hello! so, i’m really sorry that i disappeared again!! i have had a lot going on in my personal life (mostly good things, don’t worry!!) and just haven’t been able to find time for this account. also, as much as i still love the celebrities and fandoms i write for, i just haven’t felt inspired to write rpf or reader inserts, which is what i mainly do here.
i really am not sure what i want to do now with this blog. i thought about deleting it, but i have a lot of posts that are still getting notes and i don’t want to make my fics unreadable on tumblr for those that prefer to read here. i also have fics that are really short, and headcanons, that i would feel silly re-uploading to ao3 because they’re like 500 words.
so, i am making an ao3 where i plan to upload some of my longer fics that i’m actually proud of, and i will post about that when it’s up. but i thiiink because this account is a sideblog, i might switch the ownership of the sideblog to a different tumblr account that i don’t use so that the notifications aren’t showing up in my notifs and causing me feelings of like guilt or anything.
i’m so sorry to anyone that i promised fics to, or anyone who was looking forward to seeing my future writings. there is a small chance that if i get inspired to write some rpf or reader fics, i’ll upload them on that ao3 account in the future, but i likely will not be posting it on tumblr as well.
thank you to everyone who supported and enjoyed my fics, especially since i write for some more non-conventional stuff, it was really amazing to feel so welcomed by the communities and to grow as a writer here.
summary: the reader thinks that bo likes feet, but he keeps denying it. then, he finally admits it, and indulges in it. (warnings for drunk sexual content!)
a/n: prompted by an anon who i definitely don’t know and love and cherish yeah no just an anonymous stranger for sure...anyway, don’t like don’t read, i know this fetish is not a lot of people’s cup of tea but any kinkshamers will be blocked.
words: 2,160
With how often he joked about it in his routines, you had a sneaking suspicion that Bo maybe, possibly, could theoretically, have a certain fetish that involved people’s lower extremities. But again, it was just a suspicion, and your sex life with him was already healthy and fucking fantastic. Why fix what isn’t broken? If he approached you with a fantasy, you would totally be down, but you weren’t going to try and push him to admit something that you might be totally wrong about anyway!
Other than the jokes, there were a few other instances that made you suspect that Bo had a thing for feet. The first time you caught on was during a movie night, where you’d gotten too warm in the L.A. summer to stay snuggled up to his side, and instead found yourself laying back against the couch with your legs thrown over his lap.
At some point during the film, he’d began massaging your socked feet, his thumb pressing into your arch and rubbing out the tension you’d barely realized you had been feeling.
You gave a little groan of pleasure as he pressed harder, squirming happily into the cushions and shutting your eyes, the movie completely forgotten.
When he moved from your right foot to the left, however, your ankle brushed against something, causing you to open your eyes…And realize that his cock was stiff in his sweatpants.
He met your eye, and in the blue light of the television, you could tell his face was flushed.
“Why are you turned on?” you asked, raising a brow.
Bo cleared his throat. “This movie, is just…So fucking hot,” he said.
Seeing as it was a horror film, you were glad that he was kidding, and you laughed at his attempt to deflect. “Do you like massaging my feet?”
“No, no, it’s not like that,” he replied, almost too quickly. “I just…You were making those sounds and it was so cute! If someone was eavesdropping, they’d think I was fingering you or something.”
You gave another chuckle, sitting up to scoot closer. “Well, it felt good! I didn’t know you were such a talented masseuse,” you teased, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him close. “You’ve been holding out on me.”
He grinned before pressing a kiss to your temple. “I also give a damn good back rub, but you’d need to take your shirt off for that.”
He didn’t have to ask twice.
After the mind-blowing sex that followed, you sort of forgot about the foot thing for a while.
The next hint was after you attended an awards show with him, and made the mistake of wearing a very uncomfortable pair of shoes. You practically hobbled out of the car and into the house, your pride too strong to remove the godforsaken shoes before you were inside.
Bo gave a fond shake of his head as he watched you wince your way to the front door. When you bent down to begin removing the shoes however, he grabbed you around the waist. “Think you can keep ‘em on til we get to the bedroom?” he asked, his voice low.
You purposefully pushed your ass against him. “Maybe…May I ask why?”
“Nope,” he replied simply, giving your ass a little smack. “Just keep walking.”
And so, you did as you were told. You loved when Bo got dominant like that.
Bracing yourself through the discomfort, you managed to make it into the bedroom, where Bo promptly gave you a gentle push onto the bed. However, he didn’t pounce on you like you were expecting. Instead, he got down on his knees beside the bed and began removing your shoes, undoing each buckle with care.
It was an incredibly romantic gesture, and weirdly hot, too.
“Let me take care of you,” he all but whispered, his lips brushing the skin of your knee and making you shiver.
You gave a nod that he probably didn’t even notice, and he removed each of your shoes tenderly before placing them to the side. His thumb brushed the sole of your foot, making you pull back. You felt hypersensitive from being in those shoes all night, and you were also slightly self-conscious that you were probably sweaty. He didn’t seem to care about that, though.
No, instead, he was focused on the reaction his touch had caused.
“Ticklish?” he asked, smirking.
You blushed and gave him a light shove with the foot he wasn’t holding. “You know I am, asshole.”
He was still smirking, but his eyes narrowed, turning the expression from one of playful mischief to something almost…sadistic. “You know, you really shouldn’t be so rude to someone when they can so easily do this.” He snatched your ankle in his grip and wiggled his fingers along your foot, making you gasp and fall into a fit of giggles.
Bo had tickled you plenty of times before, but never so intensely. It was usually a silly scramble for the remote, where his large hands grabbed wherever he could reach and squeezed until you surrendered. He had never been so delicate, so devious, and he’d never lingered on one spot for so long. His fingers found every spot that made you squeak, squeal, and snort until you were breathless and begging him to stop.
He did stop, releasing your ankle and rising to his feet, looking down at the disheveled puddle of giggles you had become with a satisfied smile. “Learn your lesson?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” you replied, still trying to catch your breath.
“Good,” he replied, before leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Now, you stay there and tell me what pajamas you want.”
You appreciated the way he took care of you after just tormenting you. It was almost like the soft cuddles that came after rough sex, like he was making up for his actions with love. Although you didn’t mind the roughness, nor had you really minded the tickling either, he just had to remind you that he could be gentle, too.
As you cuddled into him and began to fall asleep, you couldn’t shake the way his fingers on your feet had made you feel, or the look in his eyes as he watched your toes scrunch and spread in response to each ticklish touch. But before you could ask him what it had meant, he’d fallen asleep, and you followed shortly after.
But after a night of drinking with friends, your suspicions were finally confirmed. Back at home, a very tipsy Bo was trying to get in your pants.
“You’re too drunk,” you insisted, giggling as he fumbled with the zipper on his jeans.
After failing to unzip them for a few clumsy seconds, he started to giggle too, laying back against the bed. “But I’m horny,” he replied in a whining voice.
“We can talk about sexy things instead of doing them,” you suggested.
“But that’ll just make me more horny!” he complained.
“Or maybe it’ll sober you up enough to actually fuck me.”
At that, he perked up a little. “Alright, alright fine. What do you wanna talk about?”
“Do you have any kinks?” you asked. “Like, things we haven’t tried, I mean.”
Bo hummed. “I mean, I like rough stuff. You know I’m cool with being dominant or submissive, but I…I don’t know.”
You rolled onto your side, watching him expectantly. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but whatever it is, I’m not gonna judge.”
Bo scrunched his face up adorably, like he was thinking really hard about what to say. “It’s embarrassing though!”
“Oh, come on,” you said, nudging his shoulder. “I pinky-promise that I won’t judge you.”
He covered his face with his hands. You’d never seen him so flustered before. It was really fucking cute. He mumbled something into his hands.
“What? I can’t hear you when you cover your mouth like that, dummy,” you teased, poking at his elbow.
“I like feet,” he said, pulling his hands away as he spoke before putting them right back over his blushing face.
‘Called it,’ you thought. But you didn’t want to voice that for fear of embarrassing him further, and so you feigned ignorance.
“Oh, baby, that’s nothing to be embarrassed about!” you said, scooting closer so you could snuggle into his chest. “It’s like, the most common fetish ever.”
“But it’s weird,” he replied.
“There are weird people in every fetish community, but a few bad apples don’t make it bad,” you said. “Seriously, I don’t think it’s weird. I’d be down to try it sometime, too, if you want.”
He gave a little groan. “You don’t have to humor me.”
“I’m not. I wanna please you, and if you have a fantasy, I want to fulfill it.”
He finally removed his hands from his face, his cheeks stained pink. “Seriously?”
You nodded and kissed his cheek. “Yes, seriously.”
“I love you,” he said.
“I love you too. Still too drunk to get it up?” you asked teasingly.
He grinned. “Not at all.”
Bo did seem much more alert, and he sat up, propping himself against the headboard. “Can I…?”
You nodded, moving your position so that your feet were facing him.
His eyes went a little wide, and he licked his lips. Tentatively, he reached out and took one of your feet in his hands, running his palm over the bottom. You flinched reflexively, curling your toes.
He smirked. “You’re so sensitive here,” he said, using a single finger to drag down your sole.
You squeaked softly, feeling your own face heating up. “I can’t help it!”
“It’s fucking hot,” Bo said. “I wonder if you could get turned on from this? I mean, a lot of people find their feet to be an erogenous zone. Wanna see if you’re one of those people?”
You nodded vigorously.
He sat up a little straighter, and brought her face closer to your foot. “Is it okay if I use my mouth?” he asked, and the dominant tone had faded slightly, the shyness peaking through.
“Yes,” you assured him.
You couldn’t have predicted how it would feel when Bo’s tongue licked a line from your heel to your toes, but the sensation caused you to gasp softly. The cold air against wet skin made you hyper-aware of how sensitive you were. And the strangest part was that it did feel good. Like, better than you had expected.
When his lips wrapped around your big toe and sucked, you surprised yourself with the soft moan that left your mouth. You could feel that bastard smile, the way his lips and tongue and teeth felt on your skin, and the way his stupid stubble scraped beneath your toes in a torturously ticklish way, but not enough to make you laugh, just enough have your nerves going haywire.
He took his time with each toe before switching to your other foot and giving it the same treatment, and by the time he’d pulled away, you were aware of the burning pit of arousal in your stomach, and the tell-tale sensation of a puddle in your underwear.
“What’d you think?” he asked.
“That felt fucking good,” you replied, chuckling softly. “Would you be into it if I gave you a footjob?”
Bo gave a little moan. “Fuck, yeah, I would.”
You giggled happily and sat up to help him undo his jeans, noticing the way his cock was straining to escape the fabric, and how his precum had soaked through the denim slightly. Once his hardon was free, he fumbled in the bedside drawer for some lube, which he poured generously into his hand and began to stroke himself. You watched him intently, lust in your eyes. Once he felt he was significantly lubed up, he gestured for you to begin.
Now, footjobs looked quite easy in porn, but you quickly realized it wasn’t quite so cut and dry. It took a bit of maneuvering before you found a position that worked. Eventually, you succeeded in finding a position that was both pleasurable for Bo, and comfortable enough for your legs.
Bo didn’t last very long, but you hadn’t expected him to. After fulfilling such a big fantasy of his, who could blame him for how quickly he came? Plus, it was kind of cute, too, watching his embarrassment at his poor stamina.
“Was that good?” you asked.
“Baby, that was fucking incredible,” he replied. “I can’t believe I didn’t tell you sooner, I…God, you’re fucking perfect.”
You preened under his praise, unable to wipe the lovestruck smile from your face. “Well, now that I know, we can spend plenty of time exploring this.”
Bo grinned, leaning forward so he could push you back onto the mattress so that he could return the favor of an earth-shattering orgasm.
Well, your suspicion had been correct, and it had been even better than you’d expected.
hi i haven’t posted in forever and i kinda cleared out my inbox bc the unfilled prompts were making me anxious but if anyone wants to send requests i might give em a shot
~12,100 words of (AG/TASM) Peter Parker x reader fluff
Pairing: Peter Parker x female reader
CW: Swearing, blood/wound, alluding to (Gwen’s) death
If you went back less than two years and told your fresh-out-of-high-school self that you’d soon become the fake girlfriend of a vigilante, you’d… well, to be honest, you’d probably have found it cool.
Maybe ‘cool’ wasn’t the right word. More… unconventional.
It was the perfect arrangement. You both got exactly what you needed: an excuse, a reason, a justification for your actions.
It’s a ruthless, cutthroat job market out there and, after getting a full-ride scholarship Columbia University, which was widely regarded as the best school for science in New York, you knew these next four years were for focusing hard, studying harder, and getting the best grades possible. Bonus if those grades got you valedictorian.
Sure, maybe it had been a pipe dream to be valedictorian of your class but after topping almost all of your freshman courses, you gained more confidence in that crazy idea that you could just maybe do it. It would look stellar, unbeatable even, on job applications. Hell, maybe you wouldn’t even have to apply, and they’d all come crawling to hire you.
You’d created a list (found in the back page of your journal which you only wrote the most important things in) of non-negotiable ways to ace the college life.
1. No dating
2. No drugs/alcohol
3. No dating
4. Find like-minded friends, keep the circle small
5. NO DATING!!!
6. Don’t skip class under any circumstances. Even if you’re dead.
The list was your bible, and it had clearly served you well. However, at the beginning of your sophomore year… it started. The few close friends you’d made, Dana especially, starting probing into why you never dated. There were admittedly a number of people on campus you found attractive, some of them you even had a spark with, but you suppressed any emotion, snuffing any potential flame before it started. Whenever you tried to explain that your high-school relationship had almost cost you your SAT results due to the distraction of it, Dana and Sam would wave it off as you being a dumb teenager and point out that you‘re clearly better adjusted now, if not having gone too far in the opposite direction.
They pestered and pestered, obviously with their hearts in the right place but you were getting to the point where you were nervous that showing up to hang out with them would result in you being tricked into a blind date - that’s how persistent they were. They’d tell you whenever someone asked whether or not you were single, and you’d, without fail, say “Tell them I’m not available.” You were met with eye-rolls, admonishing stares, the occasional begging for you to give them a chance. You held firm. Half a semester into your sophomore year, they started worrying about you a little more, asking if you were nervous about dating, if you’d give it shot, did you not like anyone? It was okay if you didn’t. They just wanted you to be happy, not at all understanding the pressure you were under to keep your grades up to keep your scholarship. Almost at the breaking point, you considered going on just one date to shut them up for a while.
Then, one night, the perfect solution climbed through your window.
It was lucky your roommate’s girlfriend lived ten minutes from campus, effectively rending your room a single-person dorm. Seriously, you could count on one hand the number of nights Olivia spent in the dorm with you (and none of them were very pretty, considering she’d only sleep in her own bed when she and Remi were fighting). This particular night, all was well with their love so Liv was nowhere to be seen. It was early, around 2:00am, when someone jimmied open the latch on your fourth-story window.
You held your breath, dead silent, as your fingers closed around the Louisville Slugger aluminium bat you hadn’t used since you were nine but brought to college specifically for this reason. The blood pounded in your ears, your heart felt like it’d jumped into your throat, blocking any potential scream as the window between the two single beds slid open. A small grunt, a cough, a wheeze, then, a loud CLUNK brought a yelp through your lips as a tall, masked figured tumbled over your bedside table and onto your floor. The groan of pain told you he was injured, and the dim glow of the safety streetlights dotting the pavement outside illuminated the blue, the red, the webbed patterns, and you dropped the bat from shock. It fell in a muted clang to the floor beside the bed, ricocheting and softly whacking Spider-Man in the head.
“A-are you okay?” You gasped, instantly falling to your knees beside him. “You’re Spider-Man,” you stated the obvious, reaching up and scattering your hand around the beside table until you switched on the lamp. Once you did, another gasp left your lips when the brighter light revealed a large strip of blood pooling around his abdomen. “Can you hear me?” You took his masked head in your heads, looking at the blood stain slowly creeping, growing. He only responded with a groan. “Look, I-I know your identity is a secret so you can keep the mask, but you’ve gotta let me check out this wound.”
He groaned again, turning his head to look up at your face properly. “Oh man,” he breathed out, then tried to sit up. “Oh man, oh man,” he winced and grabbed his side, just at the bottom of the blood patch.
“I know first aid,” you let him sit up. “Look, I’m really not trying to-”
“I’ve gotta get outta here,” he coughed again, shakily planting one foot on the ground. “Wrong window, oh man.”
You winced, huffed and grabbed the first-aid kit from the bottom shelf of your bedside table, holding it up to show him. “Seriously, you can keep the mask on, but we have monthly dorm inspections and I can’t explain that much blood on my carpet without looking like a serial killer.” The frantic words tumbled through your lips in one long breath as you desperately hoped you weren’t going to have to report a dead vigilante in your room. Your chest heaved as you gestured to the drops making their way through his suit and splattering at his feet.
“Sorry- sorry!” He placed his other hand on his side as well, before looking over at your raised blinds. In a second he’d whipped up his wrist, shot a web at the cord, then yanked it down to cover your window. He looked down again at the blood, and you threw a towel to him. “Uh, thanks,” he winced again, “Ah, ah, ahhhh,” he breathed out, applying pressure to the patch. He sounded young.
“Will you let me see?”
He looked back up at you, and a small shift of his head to look at the first aid kit you’d opened told you he was considering it, then a lowering of his head and shoulders told you he’d resigned himself to it. “That would be nice,” he laughed nervously. “Man, sorry, you must’ve been so freaked out… some weird guy falling through your window. I promise I’m one of the good guys.”
Your mouth twitched into a nervous, wry smile as you beckoned for him to pull out the office chair which sat nestled in the desk at the edge of your bed. Having only gone to sleep an hour or two before after a night of trying to figure out the same damn physics question, your notes and failed attempts were strewn about the light oak desk. It was extra credit, to be fair, but the fact that it’d kicked your ass for four hours straight was enough for the sight of it to be discouraging.
“Mind the mess,” you sniffed, pulling Liv’s barely-used chair over to sit next to the vigilante. He turned his head as one hand went up to tug at a zipper on the back of his suit, just above the base of his neck.
“Looks complicated,” he said slowly, looking more intently as he worked the upper-half of his suit off his body, leaving his mask in-tact.
“Yeah, well,” you shrugged, biting your lip to distract from the heat pricking at your cheeks when he revealed his very toned chest and abdomen. “Something isn’t clicking. I’ll have another shot at it tomorrow and- ooh, ouch,” you let out a puff of breath as the five-inch gash was revealed. “Mind if I…?”
He nodded, “It doesn’t feel too deep. I can web it up.”
“Somehow that doesn’t seem sanitary,” you mumbled, shifting your glance upward to give him another wry smile, this one a bit more shy. “Does that stuff come out of you?” He laughed, which made you smile wider and blush as you picked up a cleaning pad and some rubbing alcohol from the kit. “Well, it didn’t seem like a stupid question.”
“No, you’re clearly not stupid,” he tilted his head, and something told you he was smiling behind his mask. Maybe you heard it in his voice.
“This is gonna sting,” you said, saturating the pad. “But judging by the news footage I’ve seen, you’ve got a pretty high pain tolerance.”
“They always show the videos of me getting my ass kick- AH!” He flinched with a sharp intake of breath when you pressed the pad directly onto his cut.
“Or maybe you don’t,” you teased. Which seemed impossible, right? Was this some kind of fever dream? Surely it wasn’t possible for Spider-Man to have accidentally stumbled into an Columbia dorm of all places. “Focus on my physics question,” you joked as you cleaned the wound, trying to assess how deep it was. You searched your brain for the information you’d learned at those first-aid courses, and came to the conclusion that it would probably be okay without proper medical attention. “At the risk of killing the best vigilante in the country, I think a bandage will do,” you looked up at him again, to find him focused on your question. He shifted the papers with his elbow, careful to not get blood on your notes, then you saw him lean in a little more. Taking the chance while he was distracted, you cleaned the wound completely and ripped open two large gauze pads.
“Your rounding isn’t wrong,” he suddenly spoke and you paused, moving your gaze from his gash to his mask. He looked at you for a second and then sighed, nodding back at the paper. “You wrote here, “rounding incorrect decimal?” … nah, that’s not it.”
“But my answer is so close to the one given. It’s only out by a fraction of a whole number. How could it not be a rounding issue?”
“These readings were taken in Antarctica, right?”
“Yeah, so? Centrifugal force on a sphere is-…” Then, it clicked. You let out a frustrated sigh. “Dahammit,” you whined and collapsed back into the chair. “Of course… the Earth isn’t a perfect sphere so it-”
“Centrifugal force isn’t the same around the globe, yeah. Something I’ll need to remember if I ever need to go up and take down Santa.”
“Right,” you scoffed a laugh and shook your head. As you placed the bandages, something occurred to you. He was good at science. He was on campus. He climbed in your window, clearly by accident. He sounded young.
He… could he?
It didn’t seem polite to ask. It didn’t seem like something you had the right to know-
“I gave it away, didn’t I?”
He said it solemnly but he didn’t sound upset. You took your lower lip between your teeth, not quite responding, just sticking the medical tape to his skin.
“Where’s your roommate?”
“She’s never here.”
You ripped off another piece of tape, swallowing thickly. He must go here. Maybe you knew him. Was this going to be a problem?
“Lucky. Mine will be back by now.”
You held your breath as you packed away the stuff. Your hands shook slightly, your nerves getting the best of you as you avoided looking up at his mask. Sensing your unease, he reached out a placed a gentle hand on your forearm.
“Can this stay between us?”
You paused, nodding furiously. “I’m good with secrets.”
“And with first-aid.”
“Sixteen-year-old me was considering med school.”
“What happened?”
“I’m too squeamish.”
He let out a surprised laugh and let go of your arm, and that whole thing kind of broke the tension. You half-grinned as you stood and replaced the kit underneath your bedside table.
“Thank you,” he stood and replaced the suit on himself with some effort.
“Thank you,” you stammered, turning back to him. “My uncle. He, uh, owns a small bodega in Queens. The last three Thanksgivings he tells the family how the heroic Spider-Man saved him from an armed robbery.”
He paused, only for a second, before zipping the suit back up behind him. “I’m glad I could help.” His voice was sincere, if not a bit abashed.
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone this story. It’s the least I could do to help someone who’s actually making a difference. And, um, I might have some of my older brother’s clothes I stole if you need to change before going back into your dorm.”
You both stood in silence for a few long moments after you spoke the quiet part out loud.
“I’ve got a pack stashed on the roof.”
“Good,” you nodded, crossing your arms in front of your pyjama top. “I take it you’ll be going out the window considering boys aren’t allowed on this floor after 11pm?”
He hung his head, but you heard a small chuckle, which made you need to suppress a cheeky smile.
“Thanks for the reminder.”
You stood aside as he approached, letting him pass you. He removed the webs from your blinds and switched off your lamp before letting the fabric fling up into its rolled-up position. He crawled out the window and just before he closed it again, he turned to you, that smile evident in his voice, and said:
“I’ll see you around.”
There wasn’t really a hope of easily going back to sleep after that encounter. You actually had half a mind to march yourself down to the medical unit to get checked out, wondering if you’d studied too hard and given yourself hallucinations to make life less math-y.
You managed to catch an hour or two of sleep before your alarm went off, and when you planted your feet on the floor your eye immediately caught the droplets of blood on the carpet. It had happened. Spider-Man had been in your room, you’d patched him up, he said he’d see you around. He practically admitted to being a student here. Which was crazy. Insane. How on earth- why on earth...?
There was too much going on in your brain, too much to process, so you used his helpful hint to distract yourself with scurrying through the final stages of the physics question still strewn across your desk (thankful to see it was free of any bloodstains). Using the hint he’d given you, you cracked it in just under half an hour; just enough time to frantically brush your teeth in the shower, throw on some warm casual clothes, sling your bag over your shoulder and rush out the door as you shuffled the work into a folder as best you could.
If you walked fast you’d make it slightly early, which is how you liked to be, but this time, as you made the trek to your nine a.m. lecture, you found your eyes darting between every tall, slender, male student you saw. He could be any one of them, and everyone around you was none the wiser.
When one guy made eye contact with you, your breath caught in your throat and the immediate feeling searing through your gut was that it had to be him. But when you looked away, then looked back, he‘d turned his attention elsewhere. He looked a bit too tall anyways.
Physically shaking your head and blinking hard before you entered the lecture hall, you took a deep breath in. The second you stepped inside, you released it in overwhelming thankfulness - a sleepy grin came to your cheeks when you saw Dana and Sam sitting in your usual three, Sam beckoning you over with an extra cup on her writing desk. You trudged over, while trying to make it look like you weren’t trudging, but your best friends were too perceptive.
“Holy shit, dude,” Dana laughed, somewhat nervously. “Did you sleep last night?”
“Not really,” you mumbled, sliding in next to Sam, resisting the urge to kiss her passionately in thanks for the coffee she’d brought you, making sure to not accidentally kick the guy at the seat in front of you.
Sam sipped her coffee and raised an eyebrow. “Everything alright? Liv and Remi aren’t fighting, are they?”
“No… no,” you shook your head and wrapped your fingers around the coffee. You’d promised him. “This extra credit question got the better of me and I lost track of time. I figured it out, but I barely slept.”
“I suppose it was a pipe dream to hope that you’d been up late texting someone…” Sam sang, taking a rather sassy sip of her coffee.
“Or, you know, making out with them,” Dana tossed in, opening her laptop as the professor entered the room.
You laughed through your nose as you swallowed your own life-giving sip. “When have I ever given you two even and inch?” You pulled your own laptop out. “I’m not dating in college. End of story.”
“We’ll find you someone you can’t refuse.”
“Please don’t.”
“One date?”
“Hey, sorry to bother you.” The three of you looked down to the brown-haired guy who’d taken the seat directly in front of you. He smiled sheepishly and held out his empty hands. “I kinda forgot a pen. Do you have one I can borrow?”
He was looking directly at you, which made you furrow your brow in question as to why he was only asking you, but you were barely there, so in an automatic movement you reached into the outer pocket of your bag, “Uh, yeah, of course,” you smiled back and handed him a pen. “Here you go.”
“Thanks,” he smiled, but it was more like a little grin, and it lingered for a second or two before the professor cleared his throat and began the class.
As you opened your notes document Sam nudged your elbow with her own. When you looked over, you were met with very enthusiastic wide-eyed friends who were mouthing “HE’S CUTE.” Instead of indulging them in yet another reason as to why they should respect your “No,” you rolled your eyes and turned your attention to the matter at hand: mechanical waves.
It was a gruelling three hour morning lecture slot, thankfully with a fifteen minute break in the middle of it to stretch your legs, refill water bottles, go to the bathroom, perhaps brave a mad dash to the closest coffee cart. Today, however, once the boy who’d borrowed your pen had absconded to do one of those things, Dana and Sam cornered you in your seat before you had much of a chance to stop them.
“He’s so cute,” Sam whispered loudly. “Did you see how he looked at you?!”
“Who doesn’t have a pen?” Dana scoffed excitedly.
Sam cut in, still looking at you. “Everyone has a pen.”
“He wanted an excuse to talk to you.”
“Or,” you ducked your head to the side. “He forgot his pen.” Before they could protest you help up a hand and declared you were braving that mad-dash, asking if they wanted anything. They declined, both with stern glares, so you chuckled and rushed out of the room.
The closest coffee cart was only a two minute power-walk, so the trick was beating the rest of the people who had the same idea. The line only had a few people in it by the time you got there, one of them being the boy who borrowed your pen. He was directly in front of you, but didn’t turn to see who’d taken the spot behind him. That was probably for the better, considering your head was so full of equations you doubted your ability to have any kind of social interaction. In no time, he was at the front.
“I’ll have uhhh, double espresso and,” he turned to you. “Whatever she’s having.”
“Oh!” You shook yourself out of an equation. “You don’t have t-”
“Consider it rent for the pen,” he chuckled. “Hurry up, these people need their caffeine.”
“Black,” you blurted out. “Black, no milk, no sugar. Thanks,” you smiled and rubbed your arm self-consciously as the boy paid and thanked the barista for the coffee. He held them both in his hands as he stepped several feet away from the line, forcing you to follow him to receive your drink. You held in a sigh, hoping this very nice boy wasn’t about to ask you out.
“One black coffee,” he smiled, handing it to you.
You slipped the sleeves of your sweatshirt over your palms before taking it. The cups at these places were always too thin. “Thanks, but… you really didn’t have to do that. It’s just a pen.”
When you met his eye, you saw him take a nervous breath in, release it, his face softened but like someone who had to deliver bad news. Something about his demeanour, his voice, his posture - you narrowed your eyes and tilted your head in curiosity.
“Then, uh… consider it an apology for the blood on your carpet.”
The blood in your own body immediately drained from your face, somehow still pounding in your ears, in your throat, even in your hands and feet. Your stomach surged with a sickly anxiousness as your chest heaved and you tried breathing through your nose.
“Hey, hey,” he placed a hand on your shoulder and you flinched, too rooted in your spot to take the backwards step you so desperately internally screamed at your foot to perform. You’d always had a hell of a flight instinct, but a bitch of a freeze response. “Are you okay? Sorry, that’s a lot to drop on you- I’m an idiot- sorry, sorry,” he ducked down to try catching your gaze as you calmed yourself down enough to brave looking up at him again. He had such kind eyes.
“I didn’t tell anyone,” you whispered.
“I know,” he removed his hand from your shoulder. “I heard your friends earlier. Thank you,” he nodded earnestly. “That means a lot.”
“Y-you didn’t have to show me your face.”
“I know, but…” he rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, this is gonna sound so stupid but it sounded so good in my head- I had this idea when I heard your friends talking - which, I wasn’t eavesdropping by the way, or not trying to, it kinda just happens with the whole spider thing - but I heard them giving you a hard time and I just thought-”
“I’m gonna need you to get to the point before I throw up.”
He froze, then let out the remainder of his breath. “Hear me out.” He gestured to you, “You have friends who won’t get off your back about dating,” he started.
Well, there came the blood returning to your face; the superhero knew you were an antisocial dweeb.
He then pointed to himself, “I have a roommate who keeps asking where I go so late at night.”
The second he’d spoken it aloud, it made sense. It made perfect sense. You instantly relaxed, which made him relax. Your head turned to the side in thought, a bit of a mischievous smile coming to your cheeks, despite all odds, and you admitted, “I like where this is going.”
You two shared a look, both fighting the excitement of the potential arrangement. He truly was a hero.
Other students began making their way back to the lecture theatre and so you two walked back together, whispering between yourselves, exchanging names. His name was Peter. Peter trusted you, and he knew he could give you what you needed, and you could give him what he needed. Ultimately, you both needed the same thing:
An alibi.
“I have a plan,” he grabbed your arm just before you two came into the line of sight of the people inside the hall.
“What is it?”
“You’ll see,” he nodded. You gave him a look. “Just- don’t tell them I bought your coffee.”
With that, he slipped past you and into the room. “Peter!” You called after him in a loud whisper, but he was already gone. You gave yourself a moment to laugh at the absurdity of this entire thing, ponder your existence, and make a good case as to why you really should go to the medical wing for a psych evaluation because no way in hell was this happening.
But there he was, sitting at the seat in front of you, twirling the pen expertly. You wondered if he was one of those people who’d looked up how to do the pen tricks in class, or if it was a result of the whole Being Spider-Man Thing.
Just like sleeping the night before, focusing in class was some unobtainable pipe dream. This time you didn’t try forcing it upon yourself, instead giving yourself a gentle reminder that you could always listen to the recording later and it was okay to be kind of freaking out about this.
Peter seemed calm. Far too calm for someone who just revealed their secret identity to someone he’s met literally one time before. He seemed so sure… maybe there was some kind of super-intuition to go along with his powers. God, his powers. How did he get them? How long has he had them? Did he seek them out, or was it an accident? A billion questions raced through your mind, unlike the professor’s voice which went in one ear and out the other, and you couldn’t stop wondering how it all worked and if you’d ever be able to ask him.
Time flew as you zoned out of the teaching and in no time everyone around you was making to pack up their things. Peter stood up and turned to where you were closing your laptop lid. He placed the pen on your table and slid it towards you, leaving his hand on top of it.
“I owe you one,” he smiled.
Your heart pounded as you locked eyes with him, your tongue subconsciously slipping out to wet your nervous lips. “I-it’s just a pen,” you repeated the earlier sentiment.
“Yeah, but,” he shrugged. “Who knows, if I hadn’t taken those notes I might have failed this class and flunked out and ended up in some dead-end job I hate, no hope of happiness in my career or paying off my now-useless student loans…” he let himself trail off. You laughed once through your nose and suppressed a grin as best you could as you reached over and took the end of the pen his hand wasn’t covering.
“So you’re saying I saved your life?”
“You’re a hero,” he smirked knowingly. “The least I could do is buy you a coffee.”
You nodded to the table next to you, “I have a coffee.”
“Dinner, then.”
You laughed from pure surprise, and maybe a little bit from the nearly inaudible squeak you heard leaving Sam’s mouth as she turned away and poorly pretended that she wasn’t listening. Oh, he was good. You narrowed your eyes at him for a few moments before letting your smile turn mischievous and you tugged the pen from his grasp.
“Considering I saved your life… it better be a nice dinner.”
Needless to say, Sam and Dana damn near exploded when you three left the room together. You were grinning, caught in a flurry of fanatical friends declaring how proud they were of you, how cute he was, what were you going to wear?! Did you want Sam’s help doing makeup? She’s really good at it and she wouldn’t make it look too much and-
“Guys,” you laughed, hoisting your bag higher. “It’s no big deal. It’s one dinner.”
“No big deal?!” Dana whisper-shouted. “You just said yes to a date.”
“With a really cute guy!”
“Yeah, and I’m sure it’ll be nice and fun, he seems cool,” you smiled and checked your watch. “I need to get to Bennett’s office hours but I’ll catch you guy later.”
They begrudgingly let you go, walking off together while chatting about lunch.
On your way to Professor Bennett’s office, you tried making those extra credit notes just a little bit tidier, letting your mind wander to this strange arrangement you were about to enter into. How would it work? What would you do together? What do you say to your friends, your family?
All those questions were answered later, around midnight, when there was a noise at your window for the second night in a row. You were sitting on your bed studying, the blind was drawn but there was only one person it could be. You opened your window and Peter crawled in with much more grace than than his previous entrance. He was just in jeans and a zip-up sweatshirt, so the powers must be him and not the suit.
“How’s your cut?” You asked as he drew the blind. He listed his shirt, revealing that toned core once again, and showed you a wound that looked more like a scar at this point.
“Much better,” he dropped it. “Thanks for cleaning it out, I’m not too great at that and it’s a mess when it’s not done right. Sorry you had to do that.
“No, no, it’s fine,” you sniffled a laugh and crossed your arms over your stomach, still finding yourself somewhat tongue-tied in his presence.
Desperate to fill the awkward silence, Peter clicked his tongue, “Should we figure this thing out?”
“Yeah!” You jumped.
“You sure?” He lifted an eyebrow. “You alright?”
“Yeah, good- I’m good,” you assured. “So how do you see this working?” You perched on the edge of your bed, Peter mimicked your movement on Liv’s white comforter.
“You and I say we’re dating. Boyfriend and girlfriend. That way your friends don’t pester you to find someone and, as an added bonus, if you ever want time away from them to study you can say you’re with me,” he said. You nodded in thought. “And my roommate is getting way too suspicious about why I come back so late, so I can say I was with you,” he nodded back.
“Okay, but we also have to sell it,” you cut in. “We can’t just say we’re dating and then never be seen together.”
“Good point. We should probably go on some dates.”
“One meal out in a public visible place each week, and we can do our work in the library together. That’s an easy two-for-one.”
“You’re a huge nerd, aren’t you?”
“That’s no way to talk to your girlfriend,” you playfully shot back. He chuckled, you smiled. Feeling the anxiety alleviate, and the comfort he radiated filling the space between you, your smile was genuine, and weirdly excited. This would work.
And it did work. Really well, in fact.
You went out to your first dinner together the very next evening at a casual restaurant close to campus. There, you covered the basics. Home, families, you were on a scholarship and he was too. He went to a dedicated school for science so when you asked why no MIT he explained he couldn’t bear to leave New York; he had a lot of history here and even though the city had taken much from him, he couldn’t bear to leave. He didn’t elaborate on what that meant, but you got the feeling that, whatever happened, it still hurt him.
Much to your surprise, you felt confident and comfortable enough around him to brave asking how he got his powers. Though as the night went on, and he told you stories, and you keenly listened and asked questions that made him think and laugh and tell more stories, you couldn’t quite believe your luck. Because here was someone you were about to spend a lot of time with, and you genuinely liked him as a person. Thank goodness Spider-Man wasn’t a pompous asshole. That would’ve sucked.
You also took the chance to establish some ground rules and ways for him to work around his roommate. You recounted the tales of Liv and Remi, and you two agreed that if for whatever reason he couldn’t sneak in your window one night, the blind would be closed. Be it that Liv was back or something else was going on, he wasn’t to enter unless it was open.
When it came to the whole “selling it” part of your relationship, you both felt sure enough to be flirty and cozy in public, give each other hugs, he‘d put his arm around you, the very innocent list went on. You would do those study dates in the library, and he’d have to make a bit of effort with your friends and you with his, otherwise they’d resent the other for stealing their friend away.
“Man, this is getting complicated,” you laughed nervously, pulling your coat on as you two walked out of the restaurant. “But I think it’ll work.”
The hopeful disbelief in your voice made Peter laugh, and he threw his arm around your shoulders just as the late-autumn air started nipping at your neck. Seamlessly, you put your arm around him and you two walked across campus keeping each other warm.
That very same night Peter went out on his patrol, and he snuck back in through your window just before three in the morning. He was quiet. It only woke you because it was such an unsettling sound. But those nights started happening frequently and that early hour shift of the pane soon blended into your dreams most evenings.
During your library study dates, or when you were out eating your meals together, Peter would tease you for the way you snored, or the panda pyjamas you loved to wear. Sometimes you’d swat at him, though most times you were able to come up with a remark to shoot right back. He seemed to like that.
You learned a lot about Spider-Man, and a lot about Peter Parker, over the following months.
He was resilient. Even after the occasional night he’d slip into your window and his groan of pain would give his injury away, he’d shrug it off and insist he was fine. Sometimes he let you help. Whenever he did, though, he made sure to break the tension by commenting on the chubby pandas or lamenting that you weren’t wearing them. He’d crack lame jokes until your worry turned to exasperated humour and you were fighting a grin instead of fighting the urge to worry sick over him.
He was insanely smart. The guy went out five or six times a week to keep the city safe, returning home sometimes just before dawn. News story after article after op-ed explained how Spider-Man was cleaning up the streets but privately, Peter Parker was somehow still acing all his classes on three hours sleep and way too much coffee. Or maybe it wasn’t too much - super metabolism and all. Actually… it’s a wonder coffee even worked on him.
He was kind, and a good friend. Those nights you got dinner, or those mornings you got brunch, all to keep up appearances, he’d ask more about you. He wanted to know about your life, your interests and hobbies, what you wanted to do with your intellect. He was encouraging and helpful, and so caring. One night he returned to find you still awake, hunched over your desk, crying from stress. God, you felt so stupid to have him see you like that. But he didn’t make you feel stupid. He didn’t make you feel foolish for being upset over something you couldn’t figure out because he seemed to understand the way you doubted yourself and how much it killed you to feel incapable. It was your own version of powerlessness, and he said he knew all about feeling powerless. Seeing you were embarrassed to be actively crying in front of him, he said: “Put on your pandas. I’ll be back in ten minutes.” Ten minutes later, Peter crawled back through your window with a pint of chocolate-chip cookie dough ice cream and two of the tiniest spoons you’d ever seen. The sight of the fluorescent pink plastic spoons made you laugh, and laughing made you cry a little more just from being overwhelmed, but Peter chuckled and pulled you in for a warm hug. When he pulled away, he made fun of you for the panda pyjamas.
Around the time you two celebrated four months of fake dating, some kind of guilt started tugging at your chest. It was something you’d been thinking about for a while and it had never seemed like the right time to say anything about it. Though one Saturday morning, over surprisingly good pancakes in the cafeteria, you noticed a girl from your class and her stare lingering on Peter for a few seconds too long for someone who wasn’t interested. She was beautiful. You’d met her once, in passing really, but she seemed really sweet. Smart, too. Peter didn’t seem to notice her, happily chatting away to you about an armed robbery he’d foiled the night before. Or, you thought he was, but his hand waving to you made you snap back into the moment with small puff of air.
“Sorry, Peter” you sniffed and turned to your pancakes, realising you’d barely touched them.
“I guess you’ve heard one too many stories of heroism lately,” he smiled kindly, albeit sheepishly.
“Not at all,” you smiled. “I like your stories. I‘ve… I’ve just been thinking about this whole thing and…” you sighed and didn’t quite meet his eye.
“Hey,” he reached his hand across the table, not grabbing yours, just enough to pull your focus upwards.
You sighed deeper. “I don’t want to hold you back if there’s someone you actually want to date.” Your gaze turned back to the swirling mess of melted butter and syrup. “You’re a great guy. Anyone here would be lucky to date you a-and I don’t want you to feel like you can’t.”
Peter was silent for several long moments, retracting his hand and sitting back to press himself into the leathery cushions of the booth. When you looked back up at him, he was looking out of the window into the busy courtyard. Even though the snow had just melted, students gathered around tables chatting and laughing over breakfast, blissfully unaware this seemingly-ordinary student had single-handedly stopped a shop-owner from losing a night’s takings, and potentially much more than that.
“I’m, uh-… I’m not ready. For anything like that,” he sniffed, pulling himself away from a memory of someone before looking at his own nearly-empty plate. He averted his eyes and chuckled sadly, “It’s been two yehears but I still… it feels wrong to think about another girl that way.”
You were smart. You could tell this pain was far more than just a bad breakup. This was true loss.
“I’m happy with you,” he finally looked up, eyes noticeably glassy but nothing more than that. “I can be myself around you and there’s no pressure, and it’s fun and it’s so weird that we’re doing this,” he laughed again, and he looked at you, urging his sincerity. “But this is exactly what I need right now.”
You smiled sadly, feeling a little bad for bringing this up, still grateful to know that even in some small way, you truly were helping him too.
The scheme continued to great success. Your friends were happy that you were so happy, they liked Peter - really liked him, and you got some unequivocally blissful, silent study time when you were supposedly with him but he was actually webbing crooks to brick walls and calling the cops on them with their own phones. Peter’s roommate liked you and liked that you kept Peter away from the dorm, giving him the chance to bring whoever he liked over. You giggled abashedly when he’d told you that but he was so confident in his statement that you had to respect the machismo.
There had only been a handful of nights your blind had been closed when Peter came around. One of them you‘d fallen asleep at your desk and forgotten to open it, the other you were holding and comforting a sobbing Liv as she lamented over Remi apparently texting another girl. It was all a misunderstanding, apparently, which was little solace to Peter who had to strip and change on the roof when it was covered in snow.
All in all, you were making it work.
Then, the day came when it all threatened to unravel.
“Peter, nine-one-one, get to my dorm now!” You’d hung up as soon as you‘d made the demand, then tossed your phone down on the bed and paced back and forth across the carpet. His damned bloodstains never fully came out and they were all you could focus on as you took your thumbnail between your teeth, wrapping your arms protectively around yourself. In less than a minute, a breathless Peter burst into your room. You were so used to having him come through the window that you gave a startled yelp when he near-crashed through your door.
“What’s wrong?!” He panted. With one hand ready to shoot a web, his eyes darted around your room to assess it for any threats, only finding a very upset you with your arms folded over your stomach and a worried-sick look on your face. “Hey-hey-hey, what happened?” His battle posture dropped as he took on his own worried look. He shut the door and strode over to you, placing his gentle hands on each of your upper arms.
“The worst thing possible,” you breathed out shakily.
He looked back and forth between your eyes, urging you to continue.
“We have to go on a double date tomorrow night.”
His worry immediately turned into confusion, then into disbelief, then his hands dropped from your arms and he opened his mouth but couldn’t quite find the words - kind of a first for him, in your experience. You started blurting out the chain of events before he had the chance to turn tail and run.
“Dana asked what I was doing tomorrow night and I said hanging with you, obviously, and she asked what we were doing and I stupidly said we didn’t know yet “probably watch a movie” - that’s what I said - and she was like “oh, if you don’t have plans then we should totally go on a double date” and I had no good reason to say no and I panicked and-and-and said yes, and now we have to-”
His hands met your shoulders again, his features hesitant, and it stopped you in your tracks. You panted from the nerves, from the lack of breathing in your retelling. Peter grimaced and lowered his voice to a whisper to tease, “You’re scaring me.”
Your worry turned into a scowl when you saw the amusement behind his eyes. With a small grunt of frustration you shoved his hands off of you and looked out the window.
“Hey, it’s not a big deal,” he said calmly. “It’ll be fine.”
“Fine? Fine?!”
“Oh no-”
“Peter, we know big picture things, family, friends, aspirations, but there’s no way we know enough about each other to convincingly play a couple who’s been together for nearly five months.”
“Then we’ll study,” he declared with a nod.
“Study?”
“I’ll give you a crash-course in Peter Parker, and you can do the same. You and I get along great, we’re comfortable around each other, convincing Mike and Dana we’re in love will be a piece of cake.”
“Well,” you mumbled, “Love is kind of a stretch. It’s only been five months.”
“Oh, trust me,” he grinned, taking steps back towards the door. “If I’d given you the full Peter Parker experience, you’d be head over heels right now.”
You raised an eyebrow, “Is that so?”
“Absolutely. Hey, I’ve got class but I’ll be back in two hours,” he opened the door to leave and you opened your mouth to maybe protest, maybe ask him to skip class and start studying now, but he pointed to you with one foot out the door, “The vege sub from that weird little shop you like? No pickles? I’ll bring dinner.” And with that, he was gone.
To distract yourself, and to make good use of the time while Peter learned more Spanish, you started looking up relationship quizzes, get-to-know-you questions, lists of things to ask the other person before you get married - quite literally any content you could get your hands on. Then, you stumbled across the holy grail: an app.
IceBreak was free - it had a few ads but, whatever - and it landed on your phone‘s Home Screen with an icon showing a minimalist ice cube adorned with a small crack. The reviews said it was fantastic - that there were conversation starters for friends, family, new relationships, long-term relationships, roommates, almost every way a human could be connected to another. You were sifting through some of the questions, smiling as your heart lifted, when a knock on the door commanded your attention. You called for Peter to come in, recognising the way he seemed to always knock.
“One vege sub for my beautiful girlfriend,” he charmed with a cocky smile. You fought the urge to stammer and blush, but didn’t fight it very well. Peter‘s smile turned into a grin and a laugh as he closed the door with his foot. “You can’t act like you’ve never heard that before.”
“I know, it’s just… been a while,” you blushed harder and started unwrapping the sandwich. “How was class?”
“Couldn’t tell you, I was dreaming up the new schematics for this,” he bumped his eyebrows and pulled a small device from his backpack. “New and improved web-shooter.”
“Let me see.”
He handed it to you and sat beside you on your bed, both of your backs against the wall. His feet hung well over the other side’s edge, so he didn’t bother taking off his shoes. You’d since changed into a faded long-sleeved shirt and some workout leggings, even though you hadn’t worked out in way too long. You tucked your feet underneath your legs as you sat up and inspected the device. It did look more streamlined than the previous model. You knew better than to test it, knowing there was an unexpected kick Peter was keenly attuned to, so you handed it back to him with an impressed nod. You sucked your teeth and smirked to yourself before saying, “Espero que valga la pena reprobar español.”
He chuckled and winked, “Ya soy fluido.”
You showed him the app and let him focus his eyes on tinkering with the web shooter, picking up minuscule tools from his small tool kit, as you two exchanged answers to all the basic questions people in a relationship would realistically know about each other.
Favourite colour, flower, movie, dream vacation location, would you rather go to the moon or the bottom of the ocean, did you ever want to climb Mount Everest? What did you want to be when you grew up, and did that change? Why did it change? Do you think you’d be good at the job you wanted to do when you were six?
You went back and forth for over an hour, Peter successfully getting his shooter into an acceptable beta model.
“Morning person, or night person... I think we know the answer to that,” you bumped your eyebrows and pressed the NEXT button. One you had, Peter looked up at you with a worn look in his eye.
“I think we’ve studied enough.”
“No, we haven’t.”
“You’re forgetting I’ve got much more on the line here,” he laughed. “They’re not going to quiz us on each other. They won’t know if I don’t know your favourite colour.”
“Yours is green.”
“So is yours, but that’s beside the point.”
“Just a few more,” you pleaded. “For my peace of mind.”
“Five more,” he put the web-shooter down, giving in with a turn of his head against the wall to give you a firm stare.
“Fine,” you sighed and clicked the randomise button on the app. “What was your favourite place to go as a kid?”
“Easy. The skatepark,” Peter shrugged. “You?”
“The museum.”
“Wow. You’ve always been a nerd, haven’t you?” He teased. “Did you collect rock samples too?”
“Next question,” you glared, fighting a smile, settling back beside him so you could look at the phone together. This proved to be a mistake, proven by overwhelming desire you had to press the button again, fib that you’d already had that question, and ignore the new question that’d popped up on the screen.
Where are you most ticklish?
“Oh, uh… I think on my feet? I don’t know, bad guys tend to use knives and guns, not feathers. How ’bout you?” He asked it so casually, and he didn’t even look at you when he asked it. If you had the ability to act cool, calm and collected you may have been able to rationalise that Peter was not considering acting on the knowledge he was seeking, but the lie tumbled through your lips before you had the chance to use that rational part of your brain.
“Umm- I-I’m not,” you cleared your throat, wondering if there was possibly a more obvious way to tell that lie.
“You’re not telling me?”
He turned his head. Oh no. You didn’t return the look. Instead, you shrugged, “No, I’m not ticklish,” you mumbled, swallowed thickly and pressing your thumb against the random button. Peter stayed looking at you, and you could’ve sworn he was smirking in your peripheral vision. “Okay! When did you have your first kiss?” You braved turning to look at him, hoping it looked innocent enough. He didn’t respond right away, instead narrowing his eyes. You nodded to urge him to answer, and he cracked a cheeky grin.
“The summer between eighth and ninth grade. At Camp Riverside in Maine. You’re lying to me.”
“I haven’t even told you about my first kiss.”
He raised his eyebrows, and before you could react his fingers were at your side. You gasped at the contact and shifted to move away before realising he hadn’t made any attempt at tickling you.
“You little liar!” He laughed and a whimper slipped through your lips as he made no moves to take his hand off you. “How are we supposed to convincingly play a loving couple if you won’t be honest with me?” He punctuated his teasing rhetorical question with a dig of his fingers, making you jump and squeak. “Secrets can destroy a relationship, you know,” he said as if he were serious, squeezing your side a few more times as giggles bubbled up from your chest and you shot your hand down to close around his fingers. “I mean, really?” He clicked his tongue, beginning to shift to face you. Your eyes widened and you began stammering.
“Wa-wait, wait, Pete,” you laughed, nerves bringing a blush prickling to your cheeks. “They’re not gonna ahask about thihis,” you sniffled, still trying to push away his hand which had stilled at your side.
He shrugged and sighed deeply, feigning the despair of having no other choice. “But-but what if they do? I mean, we can’t get caught,” with a solemn shake of his head. “And you clearly can’t be trusted to be forthcoming with this information, so I might need to-”
“No, Peheter!” You tried to squirm away as he opted to finish his sentence not with an explanation, but with a demonstration. His other hand found your other side, and they both creeped up for him to lightly dig his fingers into your lowest ribs. Your elbows folded inwards and tried to shove him off as you fell into desperate giggles almost immediately. “NahanonoNO!” You tried turning in on yourself as his attack made your backside slide down from where you’d been sitting up. As much as you tried to press your arms against his hands to dissuade him, to push him off course, he still seemed unbothered by your attempts at self-defence. “PARKER!”
“You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”
“And youhou- YOU- AHA-” You kicked out and tried to turn onto your front as he brought his hands inwards to claw at the sides of your stomach. Completely involuntarily, you kicked out and caught his shin with your foot. “CUT IT OHOUT!”
He laughed and grabbed above your knee with one hand, squeezing the muscle between his thumb and middle finger, making you shriek and kick out again before his grip closed around your knee and pulled you further from the wall. “If you’d just answered the question I wouldn‘t be forced to extract this information from- woah!” He cut himself off with a laugh when his fingers were vehemently blocked from trying to wedge themselves under one of your arms. He yanked you even closer, your hips nearly over his legs, and got to work on prying your bicep away from your side. “What do we have here, huh?”
“Peter, so help m— AHH NO!” You growled and sent your knee punting into his stomach. He made a small grimace, but your strength wasn’t really something that could hurt him. “Back OFF, Web-Head!” You shouted through nervous giggles, trying your best to keep your arms clamped to your sides. He scoffed and paused his wrestling, giving you a mischievous look.
“Really? You’re gonna get cute with me?” He resumed his fighting, with much more strength than before. You squeaked and shook your head as he pulled you by your wrists to be sitting up. “Right now, you’re gonna get cute with me?!”
“Noho, I- Ihi wohon’t!” You laughed and squirmed nervously, but you were no match for his strength. With another swift tug, he lurched you forwards to be sitting between his legs. With a final yank, he turned you to be caught with your back against his chest, his legs ensnaring yours as he handled your wrists in his grip. “Peteher,” you sniffed, squirming as anxious giggles bubbled through your lips. “Thihis is so unfair!”
Before you could register what was happening, Peter grabbed your left bicep and pulled it away from your side with terrifying ease. Before you had the chance to gasp, squirm, or beg, his other hand shot around your waist, up your ribs and dug wiggling fingers into the soft space of your underarm. You shrieked out in laughter and arched your back away from him, thrashing in his trapping limbs.
“Woah-ho!” He laughed, letting your arm clamp down at your side with his tickling fingers worming deeper against the thin long-sleeved shirt. “Oh man, I’m never gonna let you live this d-”
SMACK!
You didn’t mean to slap him.
It was his fault, really. You tended to get involuntarily violent when tickled, even if you did secretly find the whole ordeal pretty fun and playful. Nevertheless, the open palm that’d met his jaw now covered your own gasping mouth, his hand beneath your arm stilled from the shock of your hit.
“I’m soho sorry,” you apologies through laboured breaths. “I dihidn’t mean to. I- HEY! Peter - NO!”
He, apparently, didn’t accept your apology. Because his right hand abandoned your underarm in favour of grabbing your own right hand, the one that had dared to slap him, and he pinned it to the wall above his shoulder. With widened eyes, you saw him pick up the web-shooter he’d been tinkering with and aim it at the hand he’d stuck above you.
“N-n-no! Don‘t you dare web me!”
Fwip.
“HEY! Get it off!” You yanked on your wrist, now webbed to the wall, gritting your teeth with a frustrated growl to hide the blush creeping into your cheeks. “Peter,” you whined, “Let my hand go.”
“Mmmno. That one’s in time out.”
In an instant, his fingers were lightly skittering at the fabric under your now-exposed arm. The sensation was light, just enough to be damn near unbearable, and your reaction was instant, dramatic, and, apparently to Peter, hilarious. He erupted into laughter alongside your squealing, breathy bursts of loud, shrieking giggles.
When your free hand swiped over at his tickling fingers, he closed around your wrist and held it just enough at bay that you couldn’t interfere with his torment. A growl of frustration resounded through your laughter that was pitching up every second he continued, and he spluttered in his own laughter when he found an especially sensitive spot just above your ribs that made you attempt to fly out from under your imprisonment.
“PETEHEHER!” You squeaked, sliding further down despite yourself, trying to twist away to no avail. “P-PLEHEASE!”
“Please what?” He teased, scratching just two fingers at the centre of your underarm, laughing breathily at how you squealed and tugged against him. “Hey, you never answered the question.”
“IHI’M NOT TELLIHING YOU!”
He paused, fingers still poised to strike. “Why not?”
“Because this’ll get wohorse,” you coughed.
“Oho…” Peter’s smirking laugh made your stomach flip. “Ohoho…” He ducked his head around to look at your blushing cheeks. “I was talking about the first kiss,” panic struck your chest as he lowered his voice to just above a whisper and said, “but now you have me very intrigued.”
“W-wait. No. No Peter, I-”
“I mean, I thought this had to be it,” he scoffed and resumed tickling at your underarm with all five fingers. Cackling laughter burst through your lips, your eyes shutting tight once again as you submitted to your fate. You were stuck, there was no fighting back. That was, until he released your free wrist in favour of hunting down your most ticklish spot. “You gonna tell me?” He teased over your squeaks and cackles. “Seriously, if you don’t tell me, I’m going to have to find it myself,” he sighed sarcastically as you shook your head, indicating even if you had the ability to form sentences right now, no way in hell were giving him that sort of information. “Thankfully… you and I, we’re scientists. We’re good at experiments.”
“PARKER!” You managed to yell, pulling on your legs still trapped in his.
“So, let’s see…” With one hand stilled at your underarm, his other hand clawed into the side of your stomach. You lurched and barked out a laugh, your free hand wrapping around his attacking fingers. No sooner had you done so, he dug his wiggling fingers back in under your arm. You shrieked, burst into belly-laughter, and abandoned his stilled hand to fight off this new attack. “Hmm, interesting,” he mused. There was a shit-eating grin evident in his voice. Then, his plan sunk in: he was going to force your hand to reveal what was most unbearable. And so he did.
When you swatted at the attack under your arm, he turned the side of your ribs into his target. When you squealed and tried to crush your elbow against his hand, he shook his fingers into the same spot on the other side of your body - the one with the arm still stuck above your head. “Very interesting…” He laughed along with you as you twisted in vain, trying to hit at both hands at once. You sniffled and whined through the laughter bursting through your chest, reacting too hard to form a cohesive sentence.
“NAHAHA, I cahan’t- P-PE- NAA!” You tried to dampen your shrieks, but he was too damn good at this. After a particularly hard hit at the fingers drilling into the uppermost ribs exposed by your pinned arm, and a particularly loud shriek, you begged with just his name. “P-Pehehe… Peter!” You gasped, and he backed off.
“Answer the question,” he sang, shifting his fingers down to ready themselves at your sides should you choose to refuse. Despite the fact that he was removing all the air from your lungs, you couldn’t deny the fun of it all. It’s not like you got physical touch all that often, and certainly nothing as playful as this.
Your brief reverie was ended by Peter deciding you’d waited too long to answer, and him declaring this by digging his fingers into the sides of your stomach.
You screeched, hitting your hand at both of his while the laughter was once again forced through you. “I’m gonnaha GEHET YOHOU FOR THIHIS- EEP!” You squeaked, high-pitched giggles weakening you further as he skittered his fingers all around the sensitive patch in the very centre of your belly.
“More threats?” He gasped, taking your free wrist in one hand and pulling it away from where you were interfering with his current target. “Youhou just never learn, do you?” You giggled and squeaked as he made use of his unobstructed movement, alternating between prodding and scratching at the skin. “Now, that’s adorable,” he teased, moving his fingers closer to the centre to ghost along the exposed skin below your navel. Your giggles hitched up and you tugged on both of your trapped wrists, obviously trying to form some kind of words but failing miserably. Sensing this, Peter chuckled and halted. “How about now?”
You took the moment to catch your breath, resigning yourself to the reality that you’d have to disclose your secret to save yourself from him hunting down every ticklish place on your body. “Okay okay okahay...” You coughed. “Youhou… you win. Unweb me, and I’ll tehell you. But you ha-.”
“Shh!” His hand flew to your mouth and you both sat dead still. His head turned towards the hallway, his hyperaware senses alerting him to an impending visitor. “Dana’s coming,” he whispered, reaching up and ripping the webbing from your wrist before shoving it behind his back. “Tell me now or you’re getting it when she’s gone,” he grinned beside your ear as your limp arm toppled to your side.
“I hate you,” you mumbled and sighed, beginning to pull against his legs again. “Around my hip area. Like, if someone squeezes at the sides and stuff,” you admitted, blushing profusely. “Now, let me go before Dana thinks this is something else.”
“Well…” he started, wrapping his arms a little tighter around your waist. Your heart beat in your chest, hearing that cheeky lilt in his tone. “Isn’t that exactly what we need?”
“Peter, no-”
“Peter, yes.”
“Don’t you dare, Parker. I swear I’ll- nahAHA WAHAIT!”
He dug his fingers into your ribcage, attacking the place where your back met your sides with a pinpoint precision, just as there was a knock on the door. He ducked down to whisper, “This’ll sell it,” before he lifted his head and called “Come in!”
“Peheter nohoho, dohon’t lehet- AH!” You squeaked again and collapsed your head against his chest in defeat as he picked up the pace, slowly travelling one hand down your side with every few digs and squeezes. “Dahana hehelp!” You begged, tears of mirth forming above your flushed and grinning cheeks.
“So this is why you weren’t answering my messages,” she playfully glared.
“I-I’m sorry,” Peter sighed sarcastically. “I really am - you know, for distracting her like this, she just- woah, careful there!” He tugged you a little higher, both hands now dangerously close to your hips. “As I was saying… sometimes, when she won’t stop studying, I have to resort to drastic measures to get her to stop.”
Dana raised an amused eyebrow at your demise under Peter’s fingers and rolled her eyes with an endeared smile. “We get it - two are super cute together. Should I come back later?”
“Dohon’t leave me- PETER!” You squeaked louder and gripped at his wrists, trying to push his hands off course to no avail. “Pehete, PLEASE!”
“I’ll come back.”
“DANA!”
“Sorry, Dana,” Peter stopped his hands, allowing you to catch your breath. “It’s the sworn duty of a boyfriend to enact tickle torture in times like this.”
“That’s fair,” she shrugged. You shot her a death glare from behind disheveled hard.
“Okahay,” you panted. “I’ll stop for tonight, just- no mohore… please.” You gulped the air in, chest heaving with the exertion from bearing the brunt of Peter’s playfulness. He turned his head to grin down at you, you looked up at him with a glare that was betrayed by a smile you couldn’t hold back. You couldn’t hold back your blush either, or the way that you weren’t really trying hard to escape his arms.
“Ugh, you guys are sickeningly adorable,” Dana rolled her eyes and went to leave the room. “Seriously, the way you two look at each other… anyway - are we still on for tomorrow night?”
“Yeheah,” you coughed, then grumbled, “If I’m still alive.”
“I’ll keep her in one piece,” Peter promised as Dana grinned and shut the door.
You continued to catch your breath, taking the chance to swat at his leg with your now-freed hand. “Peter!” You scolded. “That was so embarrassing,” you coughed again, and found yourself subconsciously settling into his arms before remembering what you were doing. “Alright, we can stop studying now.” When you tried sitting up, his arm around you didn’t relent. “Peter.”
He lowered his voice to a whisper as he grimaced and said, “I have to try.”
“Huh?”
“The spot, I have to try the spot,” he whispered again and you felt him shrug apologetically.
Your eyes widened, you shook your head, whipping it around to look up at him as you giggled nervously, “No. Peheter you’ve done enough!”
“I-I’m sorry, but it’s necessary and-”
“It is not necessary, you just-”
“I mean, you can’t just tell me about it and then not-”
“You forced me to tell you! Peter!” You continued struggling as he shrugged again and started leaning sideways with you still in his arms. “Peter, plehease,” you pushed at his hands and squeaked when he turned himself to be partially pinning you face-down with his own body. “PETER?!” You held tight to his wrists as he started pulling one away, already giggling hysterically and groaning at the situation you’ve found yourself in. As he pulled his hand away slowly, but with very little effort, you realised there was no stopping him. The best you could do was to ask him to go easy on you. “Okay- OKAY, WAIT!”
He paused with his hand about to strike at your hip, his legs tangling tighter around yours as you squirmed in anticipation. “Yes?” He taunted in a sing-song voice.
“Okay,” you breathed out. “I’ll let you try, but- hey, don’t laugh at me!” You swatted at his shoulder behind you and tried to glower up at him.
“Oh, you’ll let me,” he laughed with a sarcastic edge. “That’s what this is - you calling the shots.”
“You have to let me tickle you too.”
“Sure.”
You hadn’t expected him to agree, which threw you for a loop. Just as you opened your mouth to stammer and come up with some kind of bargain for him to ease his torment, his fingers squeezed harshly around your hip and began digging into the susceptible place next to the bone.
Your face flew straight into the pillow close to your head so you could muffle the volume of your scream of ticklish ferocity. Your whole body flew into fight and flight, tensing and twitching and thrashing against the way Peter had locked you in his arms between him and your bed. After a gasp for air, you fell into silent laughter as you continued to writhe against him and his kneading fingers pressing and wiggling against your hipbone. You spluttered and gasped for air, the laughter trapped in your chest as the tears of mirth spilled over onto the pillow. When he backed off a little, only to flutter his fingers at the space on your stomach just above your hipbone, you pressed your face back into the pillow to muffle some of the boisterous laughter he was drawing from you. Your twitching and spluttering soon overcame your laughter and coherent struggling, so he stopped his tickling and laughed brightly near your ear, giving you a squeeze with his arms before slowly snaking them away from you. He laughed again when he saw how limp you’d gone, making some kind of comment about how dramatic you were, and how he’d gone easy on you.
It took you a solid half-minute to catch your breath and work up the courage to glare up at him. “You’re an ass,” you seethed, gritting your teeth in an effort to hide your smile.
“Ah, but,” he held up a finger with a cheeky smile, “We’ve certainly convinced Dana. Which means… we can stop studying.”
You rolled your eyes and pushed yourself up to sit, propped up on your hands behind you. “Well I’m not gonna argue with you,” you mumbled with a blush before casting a glance to your laptop. “I have some notes I wanna catch up on anyway so-”
He cut you off with a firm hand on the forearm you’d reached towards your computer, and a hesitant shake of his head. “When’s the last time you did something fun?”
“What d‘you mean? I have fun all the time.”
“No, I mean when‘s the last time your Friday night wasn’t spent studying?”
You sighed and looked away, knowing where this was going. “I find it very fun to keep my scholarship,” you said, and you two almost instantly traded unimpressed looks. There was no pretending it wasn’t a lame excuse.
“We’re going out,” he announced, letting go of your arm and standing up from your bed. “Let’s go.”
“Where?!”
“Anywhere but here, or the library, or the cafeteria,” he said with a somewhat worried, exasperated look. “You’re in desperate need of a break.”
You sighed with a scoff, “Peter, come on, I-”
“I’ll be right outside the door,” he stated, pulling his jacket on. “Get changed. If you’re not out there in five minutes, so help me-“ He chuckled incredulously, balling his hands into fists just below his chin before shooting them open for emphasis. “-I will hang you from the ceiling and tickle you so hard.”
Some noise between a scoff, a squeak and a whimper burst through your lips, bringing a grin to Peter’s cheeks. He slid on his beta web-shooter and wiggled his fingers at you before shutting the door to your room and waiting outside.
You silently laughed and shook your head at the ridiculousness of it all, sliding off your bed and replacing your long-sleeved shirt and leggings for some jeans and a nicer crew-neck. As you tied the laces of your shoes, you found yourself smiling, blushing, maybe more grateful for Peter than you ever realised you’d be. Sure, he was convenient, the perfect excuse for studying way too hard, but maybe he was what you needed in more ways than just a fake boyfriend.
You opened the door to your dorm as you slid your other arm into your jacket and snuggled it over your sweatshirt, giving Peter a smile that you wanted to look annoyed and fake, but you were pretty sure it just looked shy and endeared. He smiled back and when you turned around from locking your door he took your hand and laced his fingers through yours.
In a split second, you fought your gasp and your face morphed from surprise into sheepishness. “Right,” you laughed. “Gotta keep up appearances.”
“Yeah. Right,” Peter smiled, softer than before, and nodded. After a few seconds of hesitation, he pulled himself back to the moment and smiled wider. “Let’s go.”
aww thank u omg i have been so busy - new job, last semester of school, new relationship (!!), etc. plus there is a small human soon joining my family (not my baby, my sister’s) so things have been hectic!! i will try to come back and write again soon though, i haven’t written for pleasure in a while
You sat in front of the mirror in your dressing room, watching as the crew of people touched up your hair and makeup.
You were getting ready to film the final scene of the night for a movie you’d been working on over the last few months.
You’d been in the film business for several years now, earning yourself a few nominations - and some wins - here and there. You were really proud of this movie, though. It was a bit of a different pace than you’d done recently. It was an emotional romantic drama, centering around the story of two people slowly falling in love with each other.
There was a soft knock at the door to your dressing room and, once hearing your approval, your co-star, Bo, entered. Having finished your touch-ups, the rest of the crew left the room; giving the two of you privacy.
You had been a long time Bo Burnham fan and you couldn’t deny the excitement you felt when the director said they were bringing him in to star opposite of you. You played the character Anna, a spit-fire girl who had trouble opening up to people, and he played the nervous and shy character Michael.
Bo walked over to where you sat and leaned against the counter, returning your big smile with a nervous one of his own.
“Ready for tonight’s scene?” He asked shakily, running a slightly trembling hand through his hair. You’d picked up on the fact that it was an anxious tick of his.
“Yeah, I am. Are you?” You asked, though you already knew the answer. It was obvious that he was worried about something.
“Yeah, no, I am. I’m just a little unsure,” he rambled, tapping repeatedly on the counter with his fingers.
Bo had been unsure of himself through a lot of this process. You couldn’t tell why. You knew this was a drastic change from the comedic styles he’s used to, but he’d been so amazing in each and every shoot. The chemistry the two of you shared was electric. He constantly matched your intensity and your emotion. Everything flowed naturally when the two of you were in a scene. You knew Bo had a lot of anxiety, so you constantly tried to make him feel comfortable when you were working with him. The two of you were filming on location, away from your friends and family, so you had become a sort of safe haven for him.
“What are you unsure about?” You got up out of your chair and moved over to lean on the counter next to him. He let out a slow shaky breath.
“It’s just, um, a little unfamiliar,” he started. “I’ve, uh…well I’ve never had to do any kind of on screen kiss or intimate type scenes before…so…”
The scene you were supposed to film tonight was the first time your two characters kiss. In the script, it starts out innocent and sweet but quickly heats up to a full blown sex scene. You had done plenty of these scenes before, and it no longer phased you. Bo, however, had never experienced filming this kind of interaction.
“Right. It’s completely normal to feel nervous the first time filming something like this. I was terrified on the first set I had to do this on,” I told him. He quickly nodded, his fingers still nervously tapping.
“I just- I don’t know…I guess I just really admire you, and respect you, and working with you has been so amazing. I just don’t want to screw up, you know? I know this is a pivotal scene for our characters and I want to do it right, but I also feel weird about simulating something so intimate and sexualizing you without your genuine want or consent,” he ranted, the tapping only getting faster. “Then, on top of that, there will be all of these cameras everywhere and-”
“Hey,” you said, grabbing the hand that was tapping and holding it in your own, “it’s okay. The most important part of this process is trust. I trust you. I want you to be able to trust me. This kind of a thing isn’t for everyone. I’ll talk to the director. When we do the scene, if you start to feel uncomfortable and don’t want to continue, we can stop right before we are supposed to undress each other. They can do a fade out into the scene of us just laying together under the covers afterwards. We don’t have to do the full scene if you don’t want to.”
“Are you sure?” His eyes finally met yours and you gave him a reassuring smile.
“I’m sure,” you confirmed. You reached up to soothingly play with the hair at the nape of his neck, and you didn’t miss the shiver that passed through him as you did. “If it helps, I want to do the scene with you, Bo.”
You giggled at the blush that spread across his face and you pulled the hand you were holding to lead him toward the door.
You couldn’t deny that you were excited to kiss Bo. You’d always had a bit of a crush on him, and the time you two spent together filming only made it worse. You didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable, though. You wanted him to be able to control the pace and intensity of the scene.
You talked to the director, like you told Bo you would, and made your way over to the living room set where you’d be filming the beginning of the scene. You sat down next to Bo, who was already on the couch, and noticed his leg bouncing up and down as he looked anxiously at all of the different cameras being set up. You reached over and placed your hand on his leg, rubbing your thumb back and forth over his knee. He stilled, calming down a bit, and focused his attention on you.
“Don’t look at the cameras, okay? Just look at me. Pretend we are the only two people in the room. It’s just me, I’ve got you,” You reassured him.
Bo followed your instructions, his eyes never once looking away from you. As the director called for action, the room was immediately filled with a tension you hadn’t ever experienced in a scene before. Maybe it was the anticipation? The crush you had on Bo? Whatever it was, hung thickly in the air.
As directed, you faced forward toward the prop television and Bo’s gaze stayed on you. He reached up his hand, gently grabbing your chin and turning your face toward his. Your eyes locked and you felt a wave of electricity wash over you. His chest was nervously rising and falling, but the natural nerves worked in favor for his character. His eyes glanced down at your lips before looking back up at you. He slowly moved his hand to cup the side of your face, his fingers reaching all the way to your hair. You could feel your pulse in your throat as he started leaning closer to you.
Your eyes fluttered shut as he pressed his sweet lips on to yours. He pulled away briefly, innocently nudging his nose against yours before leaning back in. He parted his lips this time, beginning to hesitantly move them against yours. You responded instantly to the steady, slow pace. You brought your hand up to caress his cheek, and he placed his free hand on the low of your back. His kiss was soft and gentle and it was taking everything you had not to melt into him. There was a direction this scene had to go in, though.
As if remembering it the same time you had, he moved the hand that was cupping your face to the back of your head; tangling his fingers in your hair. He pulled you closer into him, intensifying the kiss a little. His mouth was moving against yours a bit faster and with increasing passion. You placed both hands on his chest, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt to pull him toward you - an action he instantly responded to.
Still remembering the blocking of the scene, the hand that rested on your back moved down to lightly cup your ass. You couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath as he smoothly sat back into the couch and pulled you to straddle his waist. Copying his move earlier, you tangled your fingers in his hair and gave a slight tug. He involuntarily bucked his hips and let out a soft groan, causing heat to pool at the base of your abdomen.
You nipped and sucked on his lips, letting your nails softly scratch his scalp; his body would ever-so-slightly shiver beneath you when you did. Either he was really giving a great performance, or he was starting to become bothered. His mouth attached to yours like his life depended on it. You played with the hair at the nape of his neck again and he gasped, grinding his hips up into you again. You took this opportunity to tease his lips with your tongue as you kissed him. He matched your action with fever, emitting near silent whimpers into your mouth. The little noises he was making was enough to drive you to press down into him, reeling in the way his body responded to you. His breathing started becoming more erratic and he pulled apart from you.
You both stared into each other’s eyes, his holding a hint of something you couldn’t detect. All you knew was that, in this moment, there were no cameras, no crew; there was only the two of you.
Trying not to feel disappointed, you expected him to stop here like you’d told him he could. To your surprise, and instant arousal, he brought his shaky hands up to undo the top button on your blouse. His eyes searched yours for any sign of disdain but, when all he saw was desire, he made quick work of undoing the rest of them. He pushed the open garment off of your shoulders and you felt it fall to the ground.
He sucked in a breath as your bare chest was presented to him. You’d done topless scenes before, but somehow you felt more exposed to Bo’s gaze than you did to the many cameras. His eyes drank you in, memorizing every detail. He bit his lip, breathing out a low, “fuck.”
You could tell his hands were itching to touch you, but he didn’t want to go too far. You grabbed his hands and slowly moved them up your thighs and stomach until he was met with your breasts. You let out a contented sigh as he palmed both of them and crooned into his touch. Sounds of appreciation fell from your mouth as Bo placed slow, hot kisses from your chest up to your jaw.
You reached down to grab the hem of his shirt and, after receiving a nod of approval from him, pulled it over his head and tossed it to the floor. You admired the way his body flexed against your touch and a blush spread across his skin. You let your fingernails scratch down his chest and his eyes lulled shut as he let his head fall back, releasing a sigh of content. You took the opportunity to attach your lips to his neck as your hands moved lower. You felt his neck vibrate with a hum of appreciation. Your finger slowly reached the waistband of his jeans and his eyes shot open as his body jolted against you.
You grabbed his face and crashed your lips, once again, against his. Both of your kisses were needy and frantic as Bo hooked his hands under your thighs, effortless getting up from the couch and walking you two toward the bedroom where the other cameras were set up. Your back gently hit the mattress and Bo placed sloppy, wet kisses down your stomach. You looked down at him to see him already staring at you, kissing below your navel.
His hair was disheveled and his lips were swollen and the sight was nearly erotic enough to have you finish right then and there. He smirked and pulled his face away from you, moving your pants down your legs and discarding them to the side. He stared at your nearly naked body and you felt hot under his gaze. His eyes were dark with desire and lust as he undid his belt, removing his jeans and crawling on top of you.
He pulled the bedsheet over the two of you, covering your lower halves. You saw the unsure look return to his eyes, knowing that this was when the two of you were supposed to imitate actually having sex. You reached your hand up to cup his cheek, hoping he could feel the reassurance, and gently brought his lips back down to yours.
The kiss was slower again, and you relished in the way his lips felt against yours. Christ, he was an amazing kisser. You had never felt so much from a simple kiss before; but every move of his mouth against yours sent electricity all throughout your body. You didn’t care about the cameras, you didn’t care about the scene; all you wanted to do was to relish in his touch a little longer.
You had a job to do, though. You couldn’t get lost in him, no matter how much you so desperately wanted to. Going to the next part of the scene, you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him tightly against you.
You both gasped as you felt his erection pressing hard against your core. Holy fuck, you needed him. Trying to hold it together, you gave a small nod for him to start moving. You noticed his hesitation and looked deeply into his eyes, whispering, “I want you.”
A mix of a small groan and a whine sounded from the back of his throat as you watched his pupils dilate. He moved his hips slowly against you and you both couldn’t hold back the noises spilling from your mouths. His lips founds yours again in a new heated passion as his rhythm against you picked up speed. He adjusted in a way to where his hard-on was grinding deliciously against your clit repeatedly. A sensation of pleasure began to grow with every move he made.
You hardly had to exaggerate your sounds of arousal for the camera. Everything Bo was doing was sending you closer and closer to the edge. His pace was relentless, building up the tight knot that was forming in your stomach. His lips were attacking your mouth, your face, your neck, your shoulders. His chest brushed against your already hard nipples with every thrust. You were starting to fear that you wouldn’t last through the scene.
You were supposed to both appear to orgasm, not actually finish.
You gripped his arms tightly as you desperately tried to hold on. You were writhing beneath him, pulling and tugging on his hair; small whimpers escaping your lips. He moaned into your ear, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You were quickly losing your resolve, and knew you had to wrap up the scene quickly before you came undone.
Low enough for the mics not to hear, you whispered, “please, Bo.”
His hips stuttered at the sound of his name leaving your lips, but he quickly recovered and caught on. He brought his mouth up to your ear, responding, “I’ll follow your lead.”
You let your moans increase in pitch and volume, and Bo followed suit. You held his face in your hands as you stared into his eyes, as you mimicked reaching your peak; arching up into his body with a cry of pleasure. You watched as Bo’s eyes rolled back, a string of expletives coming from his lips. Even knowing it was pretend, it was the hottest sight you’d ever seen.
Bo slowed his movements and came to a final stop, much to your relief and disappointment. He captured your lips in one last tender kiss before letting his body collapse on top of you.
He rested his forehead on to yours, trying to steady his breathing as you absentmindedly traced patterns on the skin of his back with the tips of your fingers.
“Cut!” The crew and director clapped and cheered, the director enthusiastically saying, “wow, you two! Talk about chemistry, whew.”
Bo’s face was bright red as he remembered the setting you were in. The director called for the crew to file out, giving you privacy to unwind and cover up. He gave you one last thumbs up before leaving the two of you alone.
You were painfully aware of the throbbing need between your legs pressed against his still-hardened dick. He shifted awkwardly over you, unable to prevent grinding against you in some way. He rolled off of you, placing himself on the bed beside where you laid. You got up from the bed, noticing that he was staring at the ceiling, avoiding looking at your exposed body. You giggled to yourself and put on one of the robes, throwing the other one to him.
You turned around, knowing Bo well enough to know that he wouldn’t want to get dressed with you watching.
“It’s, um, all clear,” he mumbled, still refusing to meet your eyes as you turned back around to face him. He was adorable when he was flustered. Still, you wanted to check in on him.
“Are you oka-”
“I’ll see you later tonight,” he stammered, rushing out of the room. You figured he needed time to decompress and that he would come to you when he was ready.
Boy, were you right.
———————————————————————
Later that night, after you’d showered, you’d settled into your hotel bed to watch a movie. You were trying, and failing, to distract yourself from thinking about Bo. You’d been very physically frustrated from basically being edged and denied. Even though, technically, you were the one that denied yourself. It was safe to say what was once a small crush on Bo had escalated to a pure infatuation. You couldn’t get him off your mind.
As if on cue, there was a soft knock at the door of your room. You got up from the bed and walked over to the door, looking through the peephole. You smiled to yourself and opened your door to see a timid looking Bo standing in the hallway.
“Come on in,” you gestured, stepping aside to let him in the room before shutting the door behind him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, standing awkwardly in front of the bed.
“For what? Bo, you have nothing to be sorry for,” you reassured him.
“I do, and I am,” he insisted. “I’m just sorry for the way that I rushed out without making sure you were okay after everything, and I’m sorry that I was hard like a fucking teenager who can’t fucking control himself, and I’m sorry that I messed things up. I just don’t want things to be weird between us.”
“You’re sorry for getting hard?” You couldn’t help the giggle you let out as Bo’s face turned a deep shade of crimson. “Bo, that’s a natural physical reaction to stimulation.”
“Yeah, but I should be able to control myself. It was just acting. All pretend; I just…you were just making a very convincing performance and I got carried away,” he ranted.
“You have nothing to be apologizing for, everyone gets turned on doing scenes like that,” you told him.
“You didn’t, and I just-”
“How do you know I didn’t?” You challenged. His rambling was instantly silenced.
“Did you?” His voice was timid as he pried for an answer. You took a slow step toward him and, just like that, the tension settled into the room even stronger than it had been before.
“Bo,” you started, keeping your voice low and taking another slow step toward him. “If we hadn’t ended the scene when we did, I wouldn’t have even lasted another minute.”
He drew in a sharp breath, stuttering, “y-you mean…”
“That you were about to make me come in a room full of people? Yes, Bo; that’s exactly what I mean,” you taunted him, taking one last step to press yourself against him and placing a hand on his chest. He reacted immediately to your touch, leaning into it with a small whimper. “You’ve had me left on edge all night. So, tell me - why did you really come here tonight?”
“What do you…mm, fuck,” he cursed as you moved your hand into his hair, playing with the sensitive area at the nape of his neck again. “What do you mean?”
“You heard the question. Why did you really come here?” You pressed on further, too lost in the moment to back out now.
“I w-wanted to apologize,” he defended, placing his hands on your waist as your free one scratched lightly up and down his arm.
“For getting hard?” You laughed, glancing down at the bulge that was forming in his sweatpants. “I don’t hear you apologizing now.”
“I…I-” He was lost for words as you taunted him.
“Why are you here, Bo?” You asked again. “I want to hear you say it.”
“I…want…you…” he mumbled under his breath, staring at the floor.
“Sorry, what was that?” You teased, knowing full well what he’d said.
His eyes snapped up to yours and he growled in frustration, “I said I fucking want you.”
You leaned up to him, brushing your lips against his.
“Well, since you asked so nicely.” You brought his mouth down to yours, and he immediately responded, hungrily devouring your lips. He backed you up, pressing you against the hotel door as his tongue explored your mouth. He pushed his hips into you; this time, unashamedly grinding his growing erection against you.
“Get on the bed,” you whispered against his lips. He eagerly nodded and quickly obeyed, laying himself back on the mattress. You grabbed the hem of the oversized t-shirt you were wearing and pulled it over your head, leaving you in just your panties. Bo drug his bottom lip between his teeth, taking his time to admire you.
You crawled on to the bed, climbing over him and straddling his hips. He sat up, wrapping his arms around you and nipping at your neck. He took his time working his way down, stopping to linger on certain spots. You were sure he was leaving marks makeup would have to cover tomorrow. He kissed across your chest, taking one of your nipples into his mouth while teasing the other with the pad of his finger. You squirmed against him, trying to gain some friction against the burning heat between your thighs. He switched his mouth to the other nipple, picking up the same actions. The stimulation was becoming too much and you pulled his face back, kissing his swollen lips before taking the bottom one between your teeth and releasing it back with a pop. Bo groaned at the action and you hurriedly removed his shirt, tossing it behind you.
You pushed him back down to the mattress, running your fingernails across his chest. He closed his eyes and arched up into your touch. You teasingly ran your fingers across his nipples, loving the way he twitched beneath you. You placed a kiss on his stomach, earning a small groan, and slowly started kissing your way down. Your tongue traced light patterns above the waistband of his sweatpants. He trembled in anticipation, getting more and more worked up as you continued your slow, excruciating pace. You dipped your fingers into the sides of the sweatpants, grabbing his boxers as well.
“Can I?” You asked for permission, waiting patiently before going any further.
He frantically nodded his head, breathing out a low, “fuck, yes.”
You quickly pulled both garments off of his legs, watching as his erection sprang free. Your mouth watered as you marveled at him. You rubbed your hands up and down his thighs, pushing them apart.
“Mm, such a pretty cock,” you cooed. His dick twitched at the praise and you smirked to yourself, an idea popping into your head. “I bet you’d feel so good filling me up; stretching me out like nobody else could.”
He bucked his hips up into the air, beads of pre-cum dripping down his shaft. Someone has a praise kink, you thought to yourself.
“Please touch me,” he whined, desperately.
“Already begging without me even having to tell you,” you tutted. He squeezed his eyes shut as his face flushed. “Good boy.”
You wrapped your hand around his cock, feeling it pulsing, and smeared the droplets around the head with your thumb. His eyes rolled back as you began pumping him. You squeezed tightly as your wrist flicked up and down, watching the way Bo’s face contorted in pleasure.
“Fuck, baby, you look so good all spread out for me,” you praised. His back arched as he moaned to your words. He panted as a sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead. “Are you getting close?”
“Y-yes,” he answered. You took your hand off of him, watching him thrust into nothing. He let out a cry of frustration, gripping the sheets with white knuckles.
Giving him no time to recuperate, you moved down to place a kiss to the sensitive tip. He gasped as you took him into your mouth, bobbing up and down.
“Oh, fuck Y/N, fuck, a-ah,” he cursed, already building back up to his release. You felt him hit the back of your throat and swallowed around him before pulling your mouth away.
He swiftly reached out to grab your hips, flipping you over and switching your positions so that he was on top of you. His fingers teased along the band of your underwear as he stopped to ask, “is it okay to take these off?”
Melting at his concern, you nodded and lifted your hips to help him. He slowly moved them down your legs.
“Fuck, Y/N. You’re so fucking gorgeous,” Bo complimented, his eyes roaming over your body. He kissed up the inside of your thigh, and you felt his lips ghost over the throbbing need between your legs. Holding them open he whispered, “I wanna taste you.”
He wasted no time, licking a long stripe from your entrance to your clit. You moaned loudly, your hands instantly finding a place in his hair. You tugged and pulled as he worked you with his mouth. He sucked on your clit, flicking his tongue against it. The obscene sounds he was making, like you were the best thing he’d ever tasted, had you writhing against his face; a mess of whimpers and moans.
“Oh, god. Your mouth is so good, baby. Fuck, Bo. You’re so fucking good,” you mewled, feeling the familiar knot tightening in your core. He groaned at the praise, the feeling causing you to shake beneath him. You noticed him grinding into the mattress to gain friction. You gasped as he pushed a thick finger into you, his mouth still focused solely on your clit. “Oh, Bo,” you moaned. You were so close to reaching your release as he added a second finger in, stretching out your walls.
He began curling his finger inside of you, repeatedly brushing against that perfect spot, as his tongue continued to work. The pleasure was too much, and you were quickly approaching your breaking point, pleading, “fuck, right there, Bo. Just like that. I’m so close.”
He abruptly removed his fingers and took his mouth off of you as your body shook with another denied release. You desperately whined as he crawled back over you with a cheeky smile. You could see your arousal smeared on his face, and you nearly came at the sight alone. He leaned down to capture your lips in his, letting you taste yourself. He settled in between your legs and you wrapped your legs around him, silently pleading for what you wanted.
“Are you sure?” He asked you, still wanting you to know you had a choice.
“Bo,” you whined, “please fuck me.”
His eyes clouded over and he lined himself up with your entrance. You both cried out as he slowly pushed inside of you, filling you up completely. He gave you time to adjust to his size before pulling out and thrusting back into you. He quickly increased his pace, knowing both of you wouldn’t last very long.
“Fuck, your pussy is so tight,” Bo moaned, hiking your leg up to reach a new angle. His dick grazed against the right spot as he slammed into you. He brought his hand down to rub circles on your clit, and you could feel the knot building up again.
“Bo, god, you feel so good,” you moaned as you started losing your resolve. He dropped his head down to your shoulder, his strokes getting sloppy as he closed in on his release. “I’m so close.”
“Y/N, mm, I-I’m gonna come. Fuck,” he panted. You grabbed his face, making him look at you.
“Come for me, Bo.”
His eyes stayed locked on yours as his hips stuttered, releasing inside of you; the feeling being enough to drive you over the edge as you came with a cry of his name. Pleasure washed over your entire body as you rode out your high. His hips thrusted with one last shudder as he gave out, relaxing his body into yours.
You were both attempting to catch your breath as you ran your fingers soothingly through his hair. He nuzzled his head into your neck, allowing himself to be comforted by you.
“At least there’s nobody clapping this time,” he joked. You both giggled together as Bo propped himself up to look down at you. “Was that okay?”
“Bo,” you started. You cupped his face, looking up at him with adoration. “That was genuinely the best sex I think I’ve ever had.” He smiled brightly at you, shaking his head.
“Do you think maybe we could make it more than that?” He looked at you shyly, his voice shaking slightly. “I’d…I’d really like to take you on an actual date, if that’s okay.”
You brought his lips down to yours in a tender kiss, smiling against his mouth.
“I’ve been waiting on you to ask me that for months.”
Your leg bounced up and down as you sat in front of Bo. You two were currently at dinner, sitting at a table near the back of the restaurant he had taken you to.
You and Bo had been dating for several months now, and he was absolutely wonderful. Everything between the two of you had been perfectly sweet and innocent. You had already had sex a few times, but everything was fairly vanilla.
It wasn’t until a conversation that the two of you had the other night that you found out he enjoys the rougher side of things. He’d merely said it in passing and reassured you that he’d never push you to do anything you didn’t want to do; but you couldn’t get it out of your head.
The look in his eyes as he’d talked so briefly about his fantasies was fiery. You’d caught yourself absentmindedly clenching your thighs together as he spoke.
You’d never explored the world of being dominant or submissive. It honestly hadn’t ever crossed your mind. Your whole life, you had been rather prudish when it came to those things. You never thought anything was wrong with that, and Bo promised you there wasn’t, but suddenly your mind was starting to wonder.
Your recent dreams had been filled with images of Bo with his hand around your throat, commanding you to do as he pleased. You felt dirty just thinking about it. The thoughts scared you, but you trusted Bo with every fiber of your being and you knew he would never hurt you or make you do anything you didn’t want to.
“Y/N? Are you alright?”
You gasped as you felt Bo’s hand rest upon your knee, steadying the bouncing and rubbing soft circles into your skin. He cocked his head to the side, studying your reaction. He shook his head, brushing off whatever he was thinking; but he didn’t remove his hand.
“Sorry, I was just in my head,” you apologized, feeling heat creep up your neck. You tried to blink away the thoughts as you focused back on finishing the food in front of you.
As your waiter approached your table you attempted to pull your leg back; but Bo tightened his grip, holding you still. Your fork fell from your fingers, hitting your plate with a loud crash. Your face burned a deep shade of red at the attention the noise caused and the waiter asked if there was anything you needed.
“Just the check will be fine, thank you,” Bo told him, his eyes never leaving you. Your stare remained frozen on the white tablecloth.
You didn’t know what was coming over you. You were becoming so flustered at just the thought of what Bo had talked about. It was wrong to fantasize about things like that, right? You shouldn’t want to be manhandled or talked to sternly. So why were you finding yourself aroused?
“Y/N, look at me,” Bo commanded.
You sucked in a breath, raising your eyes to meet his intense gaze. You felt vulnerable as he stared into you; like he could read all of the dirty thoughts that were running through your mind.
Your stomach twisted with nerves and anticipation. You didn’t know why you were acting like this. Of course, you’ve always felt attracted to him; but this was something different entirely.
You wanted him to control you.
You had to satisfy your curious need to understand that side of him.
You gripped the arms of the chair you were sitting in as he slowly started moving his hand up and down your thigh. The tips of his fingers reached further under your skirt with every move.
Your eyes stayed locked on one another as he tried to gauge how you were feeling. Your heart was in your throat. Everything was telling you that this was wrong. It was shameful to feel so lustful; in a public setting, nonetheless. Your body betrayed you, though. You bit down on your lip, letting out a breathless sigh as his fingers nearly grazed the heat between your thighs.
That was the green light that Bo needed.
He leaned forward in his seat, speaking lowly so nobody else could hear, and told you, “spread your legs.”
You couldn’t stop your body from obeying as your legs opened underneath the table, allowing him access to you.
He crept his hand forward, letting his fingertips lightly brush over your panties. It took everything in you not to arch into his touch. He continued tracing teasing patterns, refusing to stop even when the waiter came back and placed the check on the table. Slowly, he moved your panties to the side and pushed a long digit into you. He held it still, watching you squirm in your seat.
“Honey, care to explain why you’re fucking soaked?”
Heat erupted through your body at his filthy words, and you couldn’t bring yourself to respond. He drug his bottom lip through his teeth and pulled his finger out of you.
Your face lit up with embarrassment as he brought it up to his mouth and sucked your wetness off of it. Nobody had ever tasted you before. He got up from his chair and walked around the table, his tall figure looming behind you. He bent down until his lips grazed your ear and, in a husky voice, he whispered, “get up. We’re leaving.”
You quickly did as you were told while he tossed money down into the table. He pulled you along side him as he took large strides through the restaurant.
As you approached Bo’s vehicle, he pushed your back against the passenger door and pressed his body against yours.
“I need you to tell me what’s running through your head,” he said, his voice sounding breathless.
“I…I don’t know,” you stuttered, praying you wouldn’t have to tell him what you were really thinking.
“Yes, you do,” he scolded. “You have to tell me if you want me to do anything. If you don’t tell me, I will stop everything right now.”
“I…I was j-just thinking about…a-about what you said the other night. You know, about w-what you liked,” you explained, your voice faltering.
“Yeah? What about it?” he pushed.
“Just…um…just what it would be like,” you whispered, getting quieter as you spoke.
“What what would be like?”
You squeezed your eyes shut, knowing he wasn’t letting this go. You felt ashamed that this was in your head; even worse, that he was making you say it.
“I told you to look at me, Y/N,” Bo reminded you.
You opened your eyes back up to look into his. His stare was taunting, enjoying torturing you. He wanted to make you squirm and you were angry at the way your body was reacting to it.
“Good girl. Now, answer my question.”
Your knees nearly buckled at the title he’d called you and it took everything in you to keep holding eye contact.
“I was wondering what it would be like for you to…uh, you know…take control in…that way…” you mumbled.
“Y/N,” he started, his voice dangerously low, “are you saying that you want me to dom you?”
You couldn’t stop yourself from breathing out a, “yes.”
His jaw clenched as he visibly was trying to restrain himself.
“Are you sure?”
Again, you simply said, “yes.”
“Then say it,” he demanded. “Tell me what you want me to do.”
You gulped, taking a shaky breath before saying, “I want you to dom me.”
He immediately pulled your body forward, reaching behind you to open the door and lifting you up onto the passenger seat. Your body was sideways and your legs were hanging outside. Bo dropped to his knees in front of you and you gasped as he stuck his head under your skirt. Your body trembled as he placed soft kisses on your hip bone.
Kissing just below your navel, your body froze as he grasped the band of your panties with his teeth. He slowly tugged them down and off of your legs, standing back up with the garment hanging from his mouth. He reached up to grab them and stuffed them in his back pocket.
He grabbed your legs, turning you back forward and shutting the door before entering the driver’s side and starting the engine. You rubbed your thighs together, feeling the arousal smearing across them.
Bo took note of this action and grabbed the leg closest to him, hooking it over the center console and spreading you apart. You gasped as he bunched your skirt around your waist, completely exposing you to him. He brought his fingers down to trace around your entrance, coating them in your arousal as he did.
Your hips moved involuntarily as you reached your hands out to grab his arm. He immediately removed his touch from you and you couldn’t help but whine at the loss of contact.
“Keep your hands by your sides. If you move them, I will stop,” Bo instructed you. You complied, balling your hands into fists and keeping them pressed tightly to your sides.
He slowly picked up his actions, teasingly touching you around where he knew you were aching for him. You fought not to move your hips, trying to stay still like he’d told you to. A part of you wanted him to praise you again.
He brought his fingers up to rub small circles on your clit, and your body instantly melted into his touch. Breathy moans escaped your mouth as he worked you. You’d never felt so turned on in your entire life. Riding in his car while he played with you was the most erotic thing you’d ever done, and you had a feeling this was only the beginning.
The excitement you felt only made you more sensitive to his touch and he picked up the pace. His thumb kept working in circles as he pushed his middle finger inside of you once again. You gasped as he quickly inserted a second finger, feeling a knot begin to form in the pit of your stomach.
“Bo,” you whispered, panting as he began to curl his fingers against the right spot. His thumb circled faster on your clit as his fingers moved in and out of you.
“You’re getting close aren’t you?” he taunted.
Bo was the only person who had ever been able to get you to that point. Everything about the way he touched you was overwhelming in the best possible way.
You nodded in response, chasing your release that was quickly building up.
“Nuh-uh. Use your words,” he told you.
“Y-yes, I’m close,” you stuttered, breathlessly.
“Do you want to come?” he asked you, continuing his relentless pace.
You nodded again before receiving a warning glare from him and quickly rushing out a, “yes.”
“Beg.”
Your breath caught in your throat as your fingernails dug into your palms.
“W-what?” you stuttered.
“You want to come? Fucking beg for it,” he ordered.
The thought humiliated you. Lowering yourself to beg someone for sexual release? You never thought you would resort to groveling, but the way Bo was working you had you completely desperate and you knew that he wouldn’t let up until you caved.
“P-please…” you whispered.
“Please, what?” he pushed, wanting to get more out of you.
You were dangerously approaching your breaking point, and you didn’t want to find out what would happen if you came without his permission. You could feel your resolve dimming, so you gave in.
“Please, let me come. Bo, please, I need it. It feels so good, you make me feel so good, please,” you rambled, mortification consuming you as you did.
Bo hummed, thinking for a moment, before responding, “no.”
Your blood ran cold as his response rang out. His hand only picked up speed, rubbing perfectly against you with vigorous intent.
“N-no? What do you mean no?” you whined, your body beginning to tremble with the need to let go.
“No. You’re not allowed to come unless I say so,” he told you. “I want you to wait until you physically can’t hold back anymore.”
You writhed in the seat, fighting to stop yourself from tipping over the edge. It was becoming overwhelming. Your entire body was burning with desire and it was becoming harder and harder to keep the knot from bursting. Every flick of Bo’s thumb across your clit caused your muscles to jerk, and you couldn’t handle the sensitivity. You knew you weren’t going to be able to stop yourself from giving into the pleasure.
“Bo, I c-can’t,” you panted, feeling yourself start to tip over the edge. “I can’t hold it.”
“It’s too much? It feels too good?” he coaxed you further, condescension dripping from his words.
“Yes,” you whined, starting to shake with the beginning of your climax.
Bo quickly removed his hand from you as he pulled into his driveway. Your body shook as your walls clenched around the emptiness. He unhooked your leg from the center console and smoothed your skirt back down, exiting the car like nothing had happened. He walked over to your side, opening your door and pulling you out with him.
Your body was still sensitive and recovering as he led you inside and into his room. He stopped you in front of the bed, softening his eyes as he looked at you.
“Are you sure that this is what you want? We can stop right now, it’s entirely up to you,” Bo reassured you. His loving consideration only made you more sure of the fact that you could trust him with this.
“I want this, Bo,” you told him, cupping his face to press a gentle kiss to his lips. He sighed into the kiss, opening his mouth against yours.
He pulled you against him and you gasped as you felt his hardened erection press into you. He deepened the kiss, moving with determination. He pulled away briefly, lifting your shirt above your head and swiftly unclasping your bra. They both fell to the floor, leaving you topless in front of him.
He trailed his fingers up your sides, leaving a trail of goosebumps as he did. He slowly brought his large hands up to palm your breasts, kneading them as he captured your mouth with his again. He rubbed your hardening nipples with the pads of his thumbs, drinking in the whimpers escaping your throat. He bit down harshly on your lip, tugging before releasing it back with a pop. You moaned at the feeling, surprising yourself and satisfying Bo.
Bo trailed his lips across your jaw and down your neck, pinching and tugging at your nipples as he did. He pushed his leg between your thighs, rubbing the coarse material of his jeans against your dripping core. The friction against your clit, combined with the way his lips and fingers were exploring you, had your head spinning. He had you completely captivated by his touch and you could hardly think of anything else.
“Think of a safe word,” he whispered against your ear, the feeling of his breath sending shivers down your spine.
“A w-what?” you stuttered, too overwhelmed by Bo’s actions to think straight.
“A safe word,” he continued. “It’s a word you will use if you don’t want to keep going. Say it, and I will immediately stop everything I’m doing; no matter what, okay?”
You nodded, pondering for a moment before blurting out, “mango.”
Your face flushed as Bo chuckled at your word choice before he nodded and repeated it back to you for reassurance. He stopped touching you, much to your dismay, and held your face in his hands to look into your eyes.
“Do you trust me?” he asked, caressing your cheek with his thumb.
“Yes, with everything in me,” you responded, sincerely.
“Do you promise that you will use your safe word if you want to stop at any time?”
“I promise, Bo,” you reassured him, thankful that he was so careful with things like this.
“Good.”
As you gave him your final confirmation, his eyes darkened with lust and his body straightened with authority. You couldn’t help but be intimidated at his height as he towered over you.
He slowly approached you, and you could feel your heart beat pulsing through your body. He unbuttoned his shirt, sliding it off of his shoulders and letting it fall to the ground. You watched him with anticipation as he undid his belt, dropping his jeans and boxers in one swift motion. His erection bobbed out in front of him, red and throbbing with need.
“You’ve got me so fucking hard, baby,” he groaned. The thought that you could cause him to be so aroused was still foreign to you.
He ran his fingers through your hair, before wrapping his hand in it and pulling you to your knees in front of him.
“Are you gonna be a good girl and suck my cock?”
You trembled slightly with nerves. You had never given someone a blowjob before. You weren’t even sure you knew exactly how, but you wanted so badly to please him so you nodded your head and whispered, “yes.”
Bo’s grip on your hair was tight as he guided your mouth closer to him. Unsure of what to do, you slowly leaned forward to place a kiss to the head. His breath hitched as his dick twitched and you found yourself wanting to bring more reactions out of him. You experimentally traced teasing circles with your tongue, enjoying the way he jerked against you.
“Stop being a fucking tease,” he growled, tugging harshly on your hair. The slight sting to your scalp sent electricity straight to your core.
You opened your mouth, sucking on the tip. You swirled your tongue, lapping up the pre-cum that was leaning out of him. You moaned at the taste and his hips stuttered at the sensation.
Bo noticed you squeezing your thighs together and he quickly kicked your knees apart, spreading your legs to prevent you from gaining any friction. You ached to be touched, but a part of you loved the way he was torturing you.
You took him further into your mouth, using your hand to pump what you couldn’t fit. You quickly found a natural rhythm and Bo moaned in approval as you picked up speed.
“Such a fucking natural,” Bo praised, causing a whimper to sound in the back of your throat. “You love it, don’t you? You dirty girl. Mm, fuck. You look so sinful with your lips around my cock. You want more? You want me to fuck that pretty little mouth of yours?”
You could feel the wetness dripping down your legs. The words coming out of Bo’s mouth were filthy, but god you were loving it. What was happening to you? Bo had always told you that you were too pure for this world, but right now you felt anything but pure.
Bo used his free hand to grab your jaw, opening it further. You relaxed your mouth as he searched your eyes for any sign of apprehension. When he saw none, his breathing grew heavier as his eyes clouded with desire.
“Look at me,” Bo commanded. “I want you to look in my eyes while my cock hits the back of your throat.”
Bo’s grip held your head still as he slowly started thrusting into your mouth. He started out small, not going any further than you had been taking him. You attempted to relax your throat, allowing him to thrust himself deeper.
You kept your eyes locked on his as he increased his pace, watching as his long hair swayed in front of his face. His pupils dilated with lust as his breathing grew labored. You could feel him repeatedly hitting the back of your throat, and you struggled to catch your breath. You involuntarily gagged around him and he groaned in response, tugging on your hair to thrust deeper.
You could feel tears falling down your cheeks, but he looked so beautiful coming undone this way and you couldn’t stop the ever-present throbbing between your legs.
“Fuck, honey, your mouth is so fucking good,” he groaned, causing a whimper to sound from you. His hips stuttered at the sensation. “Mm, yeah you like that, don’t you? You like it when I tell you how good you’re being for me. Fuck, look at you; you’re dripping.”
His eyes glanced down to your glistening core and you desperately needed his touch. His thrusts became sloppy as he got closer to the edge, and he slowed his pace down before pulling out of your mouth completely.
Feeling a mix of his pre-cum and your saliva smeared across your mouth, you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion at the loss of contact.
“You’re doing so good, baby, but I’m not ready to be done just yet,” he told you, running his fingers gently through your hair.
He grabbed your arms, pulling you up to him, and pressed his lips against yours. His kiss was sweet at first, but quickly grew hungrier. Soon enough, his mouth was devouring yours. He moved against your with passion and desire and you had never felt more wanted in your life.
Bo grabbed your hips, pulling you closer to him, and you felt his slick cock rub against your aching clit. You moaned into his mouth, instantly moving your lower half to grind into him. He guided your waist, keeping you at a torturously slow pace. His eyes stayed locked on yours as he watched your face contort in desperation.
“Bo,” you whined, breathlessly, “I need you.” He cocked his eyebrow, as if waiting for you to finish, so you quickly added, “please.”
“Mm,” he hummed in approval. “Such a fast learner.”
Before you had time to react, Bo hoisted you up and threw you onto the bed. Your back hit the soft mattress with a bounce and he immediately climbed on after you, grabbing your legs and spreading them open. He crawled between them, his body hovering over yours as he attached his lips to your neck.
He kissed his way around, stopping occasionally to linger on a specific spot. You gasped as you felt him bite down just above your shoulder, moaning at the rush of pleasure it sent through you. He did this a few more times, marking his way across your neck and chest, before taking one of your nipples into his mouth. He nipped and licked at the hardened bud, only stopping when he was satisfied to move on to the next. His mouth left an array of dark bruises across your breasts to match the rest of them, and the line between pain and pleasure was quickly starting to blur. It all felt so good. You wanted him to make you; to make you his.
He took his time kissing down your stomach, making it a point to worship every inch of your body. No one had ever made you feel like this before. The things you were doing felt so dirty, but Bo made it feel so right. He made it feel like this was always how it should be. You were becoming lost in him, and you loved the way he could make your body react to his command.
You felt his lips ghost over your throbbing heat and you immediately tensed up, grabbing his face to still him. He looked up at you, softening his features and letting you see that this was still the Bo you loved and trusted.
“Are you okay? We don’t have to keep going,” he reassured you.
“No, no, it’s okay. It’s just that I’ve, uh…” you trailed off, your face heating up in a blush. “I’ve just- Well, I mean, nobody has ever really done that…before.”
His eyes widened in surprise as he clarified, “nobody has ever gone down on you?”
You shook your head, covering your face with your hands in embarrassment. Bo grabbed them, pulling them away and placing them in his hair.
“I want to try it. You deserve to be absolutely worshipped, but you have control. If you want me to stop, just use your word.”
You nodded, squeezing your eyes shut.
“Nuh-uh,” he tutted. “You know the rules. You keep your eyes open. I want you to watch every move I make, got it?”
“Yes,” you squealed, forcing your eyes open to watch him.
He grabbed both of your legs, holding them apart, and nipped lightly at the insides of your thighs. That sensation was enough to get you worked up again and soon you were desperate for his touch just as you had been before.
Bo flattened his tongue and placed a long lick from your entrance to your clit.
“Oh, holy fucking shit,” you cursed, instantly arching into him as sucked on your clit and expertly moved his tongue against it. You couldn’t repress the moans that were spilling from your mouth as you watched his work you. Your hands pulled and tugged at his hair, causing him to groan against your core. The vibrations sent a jolt of pleasure throughout your body and you couldn’t believe you’d never felt this until now.
Following his instructions, you kept your eyes on him. You studied the obscene way his mouth moved against your most sensitive area, and hell it was the sexiest thing you’d ever seen. His beard caused an added friction that created a delicious burn.
You could feel that knot slowly starting to build again, and Bo brought his hand up to add a finger into you. You whined in approval, trying to keep watching him through hooded lids. Your eyes were clouded with pleasure as he added a second finger, curling them against the perfect spot inside of you.
“Yes, oh god, Bo. Right there,” you moaned, feeling yourself getting closer and closer to your climax. “I’m so close. Please, I need to come, Bo. Please.”
The words fell from your mouth far more naturally than they had when the evening had started. He looked up to lock eyes with you, giving you silent permission as he continued his relentless work.
Your body began to shake as you tipped over the edge, feeling the knot explode into ecstasy that coursed through your veins as you came with a cry of his name.
Your breathing began to calm itself as you came down from your high, and Bo slowed his actions to a stop.
Bo looked up at you and gave you a ravenous smile. Seeing your arousal coating his mouth had you instantly wanting him again. You pulled his face up to yours, and he leaned down to kiss you. You could taste yourself on his lips as he parted them, letting his tongue tease yours. He rested his body against you, bringing your awareness back to his painfully erect cock.
“Fuck, Y/N, I wanna be inside you,” Bo groaned against your lips. “I wanna fill you up and fuck you so good that you scream my name.”
“Please fuck me, Bo,” you pleased, wiggling your hips against him.
“That pretty little mouth of yours sounds so good when it begs for my cock,” he praised, grinding into you.
He lined himself up with your entrance, slowly pushing himself into you. You both moaned as he stretched you out, filling you to the hilt.
He began slow and steady thrusts, and you fought not to close your eyes at the feeling of him inside you. He brought his hand up to toy with your sensitive nipples as he nipped at your ear, giving you perfect access to hear the noises that were coming from his mouth.
He moved his fingers up to lightly trace across your neck and you couldn’t stop yourself from gasping in anticipation. His movements stilled as he cocked his brow, not missing the way you’d reacted to his touch.
His large hand slowly tightened around your throat and you instantly felt the arousal seeping from between your legs. His eyes clouded with lust as he watched your face contorting in pleasure. He pulled out of you slightly before slamming back into you at a new harsh pace. You could hear the blood rushing in your head as you watched the veins straining against his flexed forearm.
His hold on your neck only increased the pleasure he was creating inside of you, his cock perfectly grazing against your sweet spot. He let go of you, barely giving you time to gasp for air before he pulled completely out of you and flipped you over on the mattress.
He pushed your chest into the bed and lifted your hips in the air, entering you again from behind. This new angle gave him deeper access, and your vision began to spot with the overwhelming pleasure you were feeling. The room was filled with the sound of his groans and his hips slapping against yours.
“You like it when I fuck you like this, hm? You like feeling dirty for me?” Bo’s thrust we’re beginning to grow sloppier, and you could tell you were both getting close. “Answer me,” Bo commanded.
You felt the sting of Bo’s strong hand harshly coming down against your ass with a smack and you shrieked, grinding your hips further back into him.
“Yes, Bo, only you could fuck me like this. You make me feel so good,” you moaned, the repeated thrusts pushing you closer and closer to your release.
He reached around to grab your neck and pulled you up onto your knees, your back flush against his chest as he picked up his pace. His breath was against your ear as he moaned your praises, quickly losing his resolve.
“Fuck, you’re perfect, Y/N. I need you to come with me, honey.”
He used his other hand to rub circles on your clit and the added stimulation was enough to send you over the edge.
You came around him, screaming his name as your head fell back onto his shoulder. He followed soon after, his hips stuttering inside of you as he moaned into your ear.
Your body collapsed back onto Bo in exhaustion, a satisfied haze filling the room. He held you in his arms, catching his breath and rubbing soothing patters on your shoulder. He gently kissed the top of your head and nuzzled his face into your neck.
“Are you okay? I didn’t push you did I?” His voice was full of sweet concern as he checked on you and your heart fluttered in your chest.
“I actually really liked it…” you admitted sheepishly, feeling the heat creeping up your neck.
“Oh, don’t get all shy on me now,” Bo chuckled, teasing you. “C’mon, let’s get cleaned up.”
Bo swept you up bridal style, an act you were thankful for since you didn’t know that you’d be able to walk properly, and carried you toward the bathroom. You glanced in the mirror as the two of you passed it and saw the deep purple marks that were littered across your upper body.
Hm, you thought to yourself, this look may work for me.
PAIR: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
SUMMARY: Your water is out for the weekend and Spencer lets you stay at his apartment until it's fixed. Domesticity ensues, challenging your ever-growing feelings for him.
CATEGORY: fluff
CONTENT: friends to lovers, pining, bed sharing, first smooch, eating, cooking + baking, slow burn (sort of ? i dragged it out a bit)
WORD COUNT: 3.3k
NOTES: i wrote this in a day and read it once before posting it, so i’m unsure of the quality of this, but it felt good to write again after a mini slump !! i hope you enjoy, please do let me know what you think <3
—
FRIDAY
“No no no, please, no,” you plead, as you twist the knobs on the tile wall. The showerhead above does nothing but drip, mocking your frustration. You let out a sigh and make your way to the kitchen to test the sink, which also does… nothing.
Your phone pings from where it’s charging in your bedroom and you unlock it to find a text from your neighbor, Lena:
hey! just wanted to let you know that the water is out :/ something about the pipes interfering with street construction? i called downstairs and they said it won’t be fixed until sunday afternoon, so we’re out of luck until then. i’m staying at brandon’s, just wanted to make sure you knew!
Well, great. Of course, on your first weekend off after getting back from a long case, something has to go wrong—on hair washing day, no less. You begin to wonder how you’re gonna survive the weekend without water when you realize that you still have to get ready for work.
For now, you hope that dry shampoo can save your hair, at least until you figure out a plan of action for the next few days.
—
The frustration must be evident on your face when you reach your desk that morning, because Emily, Derek, and Spencer immediately look concerned.
“What’s on your mind, pretty lady?” Derek teases you and looks pleased when the nickname causes you to smile.
“The water in my building is out for the weekend and I just had to get ready in the bathroom down the hall. I either have to book a hotel, or be smelly and take a trip to the corner store every time I have to use the bathroom.”
Emily looks at you sympathetically, “I’d let you stay with me, but I’m headed to Atlanta.”
Derek shrugs, “I’m flying to Chicago tonight, I’m sorry.”
You’re about to brush off their apologies and assure them that you’ll be okay when Spencer speaks up.
“I don’t have anything going on, you’re more than welcome to stay with me,” he smiles at you sweetly from where he’s leaning back in his chair. The idea of spending so much time with him alone is enough to make you want to jump out of your skin, but you also can’t lie to yourself and the butterflies fluttering in your stomach that want this to happen.
“You mean it? Thanks, Spence.”
“Of course! We can stop by your apartment after work so you can get some of your things,” he shrugs and stands to walk to the kitchenette with Derek in tow.
Emily looks at you suggestively. “You, Spencer, alone in his apartment for the weekend. Will you be able to handle that?” she teases, but it also sounds partly serious. She’s the only one who knows about your crush on Spencer—she noticed it the second week you started at the BAU all that time ago.
“He’s my best friend, Em, he’s just being nice. It’ll be a few days and then we’ll go back to our normal lives and pretend like it never happened. It won’t be a big deal.”
You say these things, but you can’t help but realize that she’s right. A weekend alone with Spencer means witnessing nearly every bit of him—his routine, his home, the little things he does in the comfort of his own space—and you’re not sure if you can stop yourself from falling harder afterwards.
—
After work that afternoon, both of you stop by your place, where you pack a duffel bag full of essentials, before driving to his apartment building. When he fits his key into the lock and pushes the front door open, you step in and scan the room. In the time you’ve known him, you’ve never been here and maybe it’s for the best, because Spencer’s apartment is so indisputably him that it’s a bit overwhelming.
With the bookshelves that line the walls, the earth tones that blend together, the framed art and stack of records in the corner of the room—each bit of his home represents him perfectly. It’s as if someone took every aspect of your favorite person and created a whole environment for you to get wrapped up in.
“Well, this is me,” Spencer shrugs. “Sorry it’s not… much.”
“Are you kidding? I already love it here,” you reassure him, which is nothing but the truth. “I’m gonna take a quick shower, if you don’t mind, and maybe we can get started on dinner?”
“Yeah, the bathroom is right around the corner, second door.” He points in the direction and once you disappear through the hallway, he races to the kitchen and rifles through his cabinets to find anything that would be worth cooking into a dinner. Truthfully, he primarily gets takeout between cases, so all he finds are a few snacks and a stranded box or two of dry pasta.
When you emerge from the hallway a while later with semi-wet hair, Spencer has given up and laughs slightly as you take in the state of his practically empty kitchen.
“I don’t usually cook for myself, um–” Before he can finish his sentence, you’re already making your way to the front entrance with your keys in hand.
“Grocery run?”
—
Your trip to the supermarket lasts longer than it should have, with all the semi-bickering it takes to convince Spencer to buy actual food for his pantry and not just sweets on top of sweets. Eventually, he gives in to letting you pick out foods that are both nutritious and sustainable for him, but you won’t admit to turning a blind eye when you noticed him sneak boxes of swiss rolls and rice krispies into the heap of food. The sly smile on his face when he thought he succeeded to be sneaky was adorable enough that you don’t regret it one bit. Too much time is spent discussing snack choices and browsing each aisle carefully, with Spencer hitching a ride on the side of the cart on more than one occasion.
When you get back, the two of you make dinner, music playing in the background, hips bumping, and shoulders pressed together while you tell Spencer what to do and how to chop the ingredients. In no time, you make a fairly simple pasta dish with roasted vegetables and are sitting across from each other enjoying your meal. Scrabble is set up between you two and letter tiles are scattered on the tabletop.
“Oxyphenbutazone,” Spencer declares proudly after setting each piece on the board, shoveling his last forkful of pasta into his mouth afterwards. You gawk at him.
“No way… I’m convinced you’re making up long words to throw me off my game. I’m onto you, Spencer Reid.”
“It’s not my fault I practically have a dictionary embedded in my brain!” His voice raises in his defense, which makes you laugh.
“Fine, fine… So I have 324 and you win with… 568,” you exaggerate a defeated sigh, “As agreed, I’ll do the dishes.” You collect his bowl and stack it on top of yours on your way back to the kitchen.
Before you make it to the sink, Spencer intercepts you and takes the dishes from your hands. He calls out, “You scrub, I’ll rinse.”
After you wash and dry the dishes side-by-side, you get ready for bed together in the bathroom. Spencer takes out his contacts, you wash your face, brush your teeth together—the two of you move in a synchronized manner that feels like you’ve done it every night for years.
When Spencer catches you making up his couch to sleep on, he protests. “You’re my guest, please take the bed.”
“I argue that it’s your home and as the guest, I should be taking the couch.”
“Fine, be stubborn– but don’t come complaining to me when you’re sore in the morning,” he jokes as he makes his way back to his room. Before he’s out of your vision, he turns around and smiles softly, “Goodnight.”
As you lie awake and stare at the ceiling, you can’t help but wonder if this is what life would be like with Spencer—goofing around while you shop for groceries, sneaking kisses while you make dinner, ending the night spending time together in a way that you both love. You will yourself to stop fantasizing before you start to tear up with him just in the next room. Slowly, you drift to sleep with images of the life with him that you’ll never have.
—
SATURDAY
Spencer wakes up in the morning and sees you curled up under a blanket on his couch. The pillow you were using is on the floor and your arms are tucked under your head in its place. The first thing he thinks is how the angle you’re resting at will definitely cause your neck to be sore, but then he catches sight of your expression.
You look calm, peaceful, which is in stark contrast to how he’s seen you in the past few weeks. It puts him at ease to see you finally get rest after a stressful case load. A strand of hair has fallen to rest on your nose and there’s nothing more he wants to do than brush it back, but he refrains at the thought of you waking up to catch him staring. He’s hidden his attraction to you for this long and he’s not about to risk exposing it now and possibly drive you away from him.
Instead, he opts for going into the kitchen and making two cups of coffee, brewing yours the way he knows you like it and grabbing an Advil. As he stirs your cup, he starts to think about what Morgan talked to him about the day before.
“So, pretty boy, are you finally gonna make your move this weekend? It's prime time.”
“No, I– I can’t. She doesn’t feel the same, I know it.”
“For how good of a profiler you are, man, you sure are oblivious. Trust me, go for it.”
His thoughts are interrupted by footsteps approaching him from the doorway and he turns to see you with half-lidded sleepy eyes, rubbing at the crook of your neck. You stand next to him at the counter and he hands you both your mug and the Advil, which you happily take and ignore his I-Told-You-So expression.
“Thank you.” You lean up to plant a kiss on his jaw as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, head still in a dreamlike state. Spencer is stunned and his heart pounds in his chest as he watches you walk back into the living room. The feeling of your lips on his skin lingers, even though you're long gone from his side. He runs his hand across his face a few times to remind himself that you’re still half-asleep and probably meant nothing by it.
What you did doesn’t process until you sit on the couch and take a few sips of your coffee. When it hits you, your hand smacks over your mouth and your mind is suddenly full of all the clarity in the world. In your hazy disposition, your dreams of being Spencer’s girlfriend momentarily bled into real life and you forgot that it wasn’t a reality.
“Oh, god,” you whisper to yourself. What have I done? How the hell do I recover from that?
“Sooo…” you awkwardly draw out, “What do you wanna do today?”
—
Your second day together is nothing but lazy. Spencer lets you pick from his multitude of records while you enjoy each other’s company in comfortable silence. At one point while you’re both reading on opposite sides of his couch, you can't help but peek over your book to admire the way he focuses in on the text.
You can tell he’s taking it slow today, by the way his eyes aren’t moving as rapidly as they usually do. He’s absorbing every word, reading every sentence in deep thought. His hair has gotten a bit long and you don’t think he grew it out intentionally, but you wouldn’t have him any other way. You love the way he sits cross-legged in any chair he can manage to, the way his nose twitches involuntarily, the way he licks his lips when he’s thinking.
It’s in this moment that you realize that what Emily warned you of came true. You’re in deep—so, irrevocably in love with your best friend and there’s no turning back now.
—
Two scrabble games, dinner, and a movie later, you’re remaking the couch to sleep on when Spencer snatches a pillow out of your hands.
“If you think I’m going to let you sleep on the couch again after what it did to your neck last night, you must be out of your mind,” he laughs.
“Spence, you’re a good amount taller than me,” you reason, “If anything, it’ll be worse for you.”
“I’ll deal with it, I’ll be fine.”
“No, you won’t–”
“Will you just let me–”
“You– I– We can share the bed!” Your outburst stops him mid-sentence. “It’s big enough, isn’t it? We don’t have to, but if it’s okay with you, it’s okay with me,” you reassure him.
“O– Okay, sounds good.” Spencer is surprised he was able to respond at all, considering the thoughts racing though his mind. He’s not sure if he can trust himself to lie that close without wanting to pull you into his arms. Nonetheless, he agrees.
It goes smoothly, really. You fall asleep on your respective sides of the bed and everything is fine, until you wake up in the middle of the night and Spencer has an arm slung around your waist, enclosing you in his embrace. As much as you want to relish in it and sink into him, you need to get out. You need distance from the way he’s taking over your senses and the way it’s making your chest ache with longing.
You end up tiptoeing in the kitchen and mixing the ingredients to make chocolate chip cookies—ones you picked up the day before just in case. It’s mainly a means of a temporary distraction, but a 1AM treat doesn’t sound too bad, either. You find a baking sheet and scoop the dough into equal amounts, then pop it in the preheated oven.
As you watch them slowly flatten out through the glass, you sit on the floor and hug your knees to your chest. Your mind drifts to thoughts of Spencer and how much he means to you. The comforting feeling of his warmth around you is burned into your mind and confirms that you want nothing more than to fall asleep to it every night.
You think that maybe, just maybe, it’s time to come clean. If he denies you and doesn’t feel the same way, then at least you will have spoken your truth and can hopefully move on with your life. The dilemma has your thoughts running at a million miles an hour, but they’re put to a halt when a figure appears in the doorway.
Spencer shuffles into the dim light of the kitchen, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes under his glasses.
“Did I wake you up? I’m sorry.”
“No, I woke up because I– you weren’t there, so I came to find you. Is everything okay?” He joins you on the floor and mirrors your sitting position.
“I’m alright. I just couldn’t sleep, so I made some late night cookies. You want some?” Judging by their size, they would be ready in a moment.
“We both know I love your cookies, but I think we also know that you bake when you’re stressed. I won’t push you to tell me anything, but you know that I’m always here if you need to talk.”
“Have you ever,” you lean your head on his shoulder and pause to consider your words, “Have you ever wanted something so out of your realm? Something seemingly unattainable, but you can’t help yourself from wanting it anyways and wondering what would happen if you at least tried to reach it.”
“Yeah… I have.” You lift your head and look at him to find that he’s already facing you, honeyed eyes staring deep into yours. Suddenly, you realize how close the two of you are sitting. His eyes dart down to your lips and his tongue pokes out to wet his own. You’re inching closer together; the gap is getting smaller. Your noses are about to brush, when…
The oven buzzes to signal that the cookies are done.
Neither of you move for a second, frozen in the moment that was interrupted much too prematurely for either of your liking.
“I have to…” You clear your throat and stand to take the cookies out of the oven, brushing yourself off a bit. “They still need to cool, but it should only take a few minu–”
It’s a split-second, no-brainer decision for Spencer—the way you looked at him was all the confirmation he needed that you wanted this just as much as he did. One moment, he’s still sitting on the floor; in the next, his hands are on either side of your jaw to gently press his lips to yours.
Kissing him is even better than you imagined. The tenderness of your movements are equivalent to the comfort of coming home—feeling like you finally belong somewhere after a period of isolation. Your mind is buzzing and every inch of you feels like it’s on fire, but at the same time, you’re at ease. Something inside you feels complete. It’s nearly unexplainable, but it just feels right.
Your arms instinctively wrap behind his neck as if they’d done it a million times before. Spencer circles his around your back and pulls you impossibly tighter against him.
Spencer pulls away to catch his breath, placing a kiss on the tip of your nose, then your forehead. His grip on you doesn’t falter and you take it as a chance to bury your face into his neck, inhale, and sigh deeply.
He doesn’t keep his hands off of you for the remainder of the time that you’re awake. While you move the cookies onto a plate, his hands are firmly planted on your hips and his forehead rests on your shoulder. When the two of you move onto the couch to eat the cookies, he pulls your legs into his lap and leans into your side. All throughout, the smiles on your faces are unwavering.
You talk about everything and nothing in the warm glow of the one lamp illuminating the living room, kisses stolen between sentences. Conversation flows effortlessly, as it always has with Spencer, but with a deeper sense of intimacy. With every word he says, your feelings grow stronger for the man sitting next to you—except this time, you’re letting yourself crash and fall with no regrets.
Spencer cuddles into you when you get back into bed, both content and full of sweetness. His hand absentmindedly skims the surface of your back and with the slow rise and fall of his chest under your cheek, you swear you have never been more comfortable in your life. There’s nowhere else you’d rather be.
—
SUNDAY
Your eyes flutter at the sunlight streaming in through the gap in the curtains. It takes a second for you to process your surroundings and remember where you are. The green of the walls and the warm body pressing against your back feel unfamiliar until the events from last night come flooding back into your memory. Cookies, kisses, Spencer.
“Are you awake?” Spencer whispers from behind you, voice raspy with the morning.
You hum, Mhmm.
“Will you stay with me today?” You can feel him bury his face deeper into your hair.
“I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me.”
—
dont mind the fact that i have no clue how to end a oneshot, if not with dialogue lmao
btw if you’ve sent me an ask and don’t see it answered i’m probably just hogging it in my askbox until i get a chance to start working on the prompt/when i post the fic!!
hi!! i’ve currently only seen fear street 1994, not the other two films, so at the moment i don’t!! when i get a chance to watch the others, that might change though!! thanks for asking though and sorry i can’t write this rn!!! xo
