#I'll make it up for all of these next week I swear

[obvithe-bestsoph]

Hiiii I was the one asking for the Pedri big brother fic. I somehow couldn't reply to your message, but to answer your question I don't mind if it's a second episode of a hug from home or a totally new fic. I'll leave it up to you ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Ps: Love your writing ❤️😍

a ghost in a house full of people.

masterlist requests word count: 6.6k

a/n: very similar vibes to my fic a hug from home. if you enjoyed that! genre: mostly angsty then comfort. this ended up way longer than i originally expected lol. warnings: reader has not the best mental health. mentions of periods. forgetful/slightly neglectful family. they're all kind of accidental dicks until the end. one swear word i think.

summary: caught between games and family chaos, you write your loneliness in a journal that your brother discovers, forcing everyone to face what they've been accidentally ignoring all along.

You start writing things down in May.

Not poems. Not secrets. Just facts. Dates. Moments. Things that happened. Things no one else noticed.

It starts with the skirt. That awful pale blue one you have to wear for school, the one that definitely wasn’t designed with dignity in mind. You bleed through it on the ride home. Hoodie tied around your waist. Bag held in front. You pretend it doesn’t matter. You text your best friend a meme and don’t tell her what just happened.

At home, the house is quiet. Mamá and Papá are in Valencia for Pedri’s match. Fer’s out. You put the skirt in the laundry basket under your hoodie and run the machine before anyone gets home. No one asks why. No one even realizes you did laundry.

That night, you take a cheap notebook from your schoolbag, one of those spiral-bound ones you bought for chemistry and forgot about, and write:

May 3rd – my period started. hid the skirt in my closet. mamá gone.

That’s it. You don’t even know why you do it. You’re not trying to keep a diary. You don’t write in full sentences. You just… log it.

Like it happened. Like it mattered. Like someone saw.

It becomes a habit. The house stays quiet most of the time. There’s a match in Bilbao. A press event in Madrid. A midweek flight to Sevilla. Mamá goes to all of them now. Papá too. They always send photos. Sometimes videos.

“Look, he waved!” “Look at this goal!” “So proud of our boy 💙❤️”

You double-tap. You comment sometimes. You don’t tell them about the things happening back here.

May 7th – made dinner. didn’t tell anyone it was the first time i didn’t burn it.May 22nd – failed my maths test. told them i got a C. actually got a D.June 1st – got called pretty by someone i liked. didn’t say it back.

It’s not all sad. Some of it’s funny. Some of it’s nothing. But they’re yours. The small, sharp, quiet moments.

And no one else seems to notice any of them.

You eat a lot of meals standing up in the kitchen now.

When Mamá is home, she’s in rush-mode, reheating leftovers or asking if you’ve eaten already, even when the answer’s clearly no. Papá is always planning their next trip. Next flight. Next stadium. “Maybe we’ll do San Sebastián next time, eh? Could be a weekend thing.”

You nod, even when they’re not talking to you. You stir soup. Put two slices of bread on a plate. Pretend you don’t care that it’s just you at the table.

You don’t resent Pedri for it. You can’t. He worked hard. He deserves it. But sometimes, late at night, when the house is dark and you’re brushing your teeth with the fan on to cover the silence, you wonder what it would be like to have a family that didn’t orbit around him. Just for one week. One day. One dinner.

You brush until your gums hurt. You don’t write that one down.

School ends, and the days blur.

You stay up late watching random TV shows on mute. You go through your old clothes and make a bag for donation. You walk to the store and buy a face mask and a bag of crisps with your own money.

You text Mamá to say you’re okay.

She replies five hours later with:

“Hope you’re okay!!”

You are. Technically. You write:

June 22nd – mamá texted. didn’t ask why i was quiet. i was not okay.

You don’t reread the pages. You just add to them.

Sometimes Fer comes home.

When he does, it’s chaos - loud music, video calls on speaker, people coming in and out. He ruffles your hair and calls you “pequeña” even though you’ve asked him not to. He asks how school’s going but never listens past the first answer. He calls you “bossy” when you ask him to clean up after himself.

He’s still your brother. You still love him. But it feels like you’re auditioning for his attention now, waving from across the room and hoping he looks up.

You write:

June 26th – fer called me sensitive. again.

You try to talk to someone once.

It’s your friend Marina. You’re on FaceTime, and she’s talking about some boy who got her name wrong on purpose. You’re only half-listening when you say, “I think I’m sad a lot and I don’t know why.”

She blinks. “What?”

You shake your head. “Never mind.”

She doesn’t ask again.

You hang up early. Put on music. Stare at the ceiling. Write:

June 27th – tried to say it out loud. didn’t work.

You start bringing the journal everywhere. Not because you need it, but because it feels like a tether. Something real. Something that belongs to you and only you.

You don’t have locks on your door. But you figure no one cares enough to snoop.

Your bed’s always made. Your grades are mostly fine. You don’t slam doors or break rules. You’re not dramatic.

You just… drift.

And no one seems to notice you’re floating.

You wake up late the next day. No one notices. No one texts.

There’s a note on the kitchen counter in Mamá’s handwriting. The kind she always writes in a rush, all caps with too many exclamation marks.

GONE TO BARCELONA FOR A FEW DAYS!! PEDRI’S GOT MEDIA STUFF, MAYBE STAYING FOR THE WEEKEND!!! LEFT MONEY IN THE JAR 💋

You read it twice. You don’t react.

There’s a twenty folded under the salt. You grab it, put it in your hoodie pocket, and drink juice straight from the bottle. No one’s here to tell you not to.

You keep thinking maybe you’ll cry. But you don’t. You just… move.

That afternoon, you walk to the park with a notebook in your backpack and your earbuds in, even though you’re not playing anything. You sit on the grass in the shade and people-watch.

There’s a girl your age showing her mum something on her phone, giggling. Her mum throws her head back laughing like it’s the funniest thing she’s heard all day. You look away.

You open the journal. Flip to a blank page.

Then stop.

You stare at the last entry for a while.

June 27th – tried to say it out loud. didn’t work.

You underline it. Not hard. Just once. Just to make it feel real again.

That night, you make pasta. Too much, but you plate it anyway, like maybe someone will walk in and say, “Smells good, is there any for me?”

They don’t.

You eat on the couch. You watch two episodes of a show you don’t really like. You scroll TikTok and like things without watching. You turn your phone off without replying to anyone.

You fall asleep in your clothes. Dreamless.

The next morning, the house is still empty. You sit on the edge of your bed and look at the notebook on your desk.

It’s not hidden anymore. You stopped bothering.

You almost reach for it. Almost write:

June 30th – started to forget what being full feels like. not food. just… full.

But you don’t.

You think if you write that one down, it might become too real.

So you don’t write anything.

You pull the covers back over your head. And for the first time in weeks, you let yourself feel lonely on purpose.

You wake up to Nilo’s cold nose nudging your hand. The black lab’s tail thumps against the bedframe like a drumroll. It’s Christmas break. For once, everyone is home. Mamá is in the kitchen humming, Papá’s unpacking bags by the door, Fer is scrolling on his phone, and Pedri’s half-dressed in Barça gear, trying to untangle headphones.

The house smells like cinnamon and pine needles. You like that smell. It’s sharp but soft at the same time, like everything is both fresh and familiar.

You stay under the covers longer than usual, listening to the noise. Nilo snorts and settles by your feet. You reach down and scratch behind his ears. He leans into you.

Breakfast is a chaotic blur. Mamá insists on making too many pancakes and burning some of them anyway. Papá laughs as he juggles opening presents and telling stories about his work trip to Barcelona. Fer complains that the Wi-Fi is slow and drags everyone into a heated FIFA debate. Pedri laughs too loud, teasing Fer about a missed goal, and Nilo jumps up, barking like he wants in on the game.

You sit mostly quiet at the kitchen table, nibbling on a burnt corner of a pancake, the sticky syrup sliding down your fingers. You watch everyone but don’t really join in. You text Marina a selfie with a forced smile, and she replies with a string of emojis and a “looking good!” but you don’t feel like answering back.

Later, Pedri comes over and sits beside you on the couch. He’s scrolling through his phone, showing you videos of his latest match. You watch the screen, nodding, but your mind drifts to the empty spot on your desk where the journal usually sits. You didn’t bring it out today.

Fer leans in from the other side and tosses a cushion at you, making you jump. “C’mon, you gotta get in the game,” he says with that half-smile that means he’s trying to be nice but also annoying.

You laugh softly but shake your head. “Not today.”

Mamá calls from the kitchen, “Who wants hot chocolate?” Her voice is warm and thick with tiredness. You get up, Nilo following close behind.

You pour the hot chocolate slowly, watching the steam curl upward. It’s sweet and comforting, but there’s a tightness in your chest that the sugar can’t fix.

You sit back down, cup in hands, and glance at the family again. They’re loud, messy, and alive. And you wonder if they can see you here. Not just in the room, but really see you.

You take out your phone and open the journal app, the one where you sometimes type when you don’t want anyone to see the notebook. Your fingers hover over the keys but don’t type. You close it.

Nilo nudges your hand again.

You pet him, a little smile slipping through. It’s not much, but it’s something.

The living room is chaos by afternoon.

There’s wrapping paper everywhere, bits of tinsel stuck to Nilo’s fur, and an opened box of Ferrero Rocher slowly being emptied from every side. Fer’s lounging on the floor in a hoodie that’s technically Pedri’s. Mamá’s trying to get everyone to pose for a photo. Papá’s telling Pedri to take it seriously for once.

You smile when the camera’s on you. Tilt your head, give the nice daughter grin. And then it clicks, and you’re off the hook again.

Pedri grabs Nilo around the middle and lifts him for the next picture. The dog wiggles like a toddler, tongue lolling out, and Fer yells, “Caption that: Pedri and his only real teammate.” Everyone laughs. The camera flashes.

You step away. Quietly. No one notices.

You walk to the kitchen and rinse your mug. Your fingers are sticky from the chocolate, and you scrub harder than necessary. You don’t know why it bothers you that no one asked where you went. But it does.

You lean against the counter and scroll through your camera roll. Selfies. Food. A blurry pic of the tree you took last week when the house was empty and dark, just the lights on. You scroll further back. More photos no one else saw. A birthday cupcake you bought for yourself last month. Your report card screenshot. A mirror selfie in the bathroom before school when you actually felt pretty. Just for a second.

“Hey, there you are.”

You don’t jump, but you do slip your phone back into your hoodie pocket fast.

Pedri’s barefoot, leaning on the doorway with a cup in hand. Nilo pads in beside him, tail going steady like a metronome.

“Thought we lost you.”

“I was just rinsing my cup.”

“You’ve been gone, like, twenty minutes.”

You shrug.

He walks to the fridge. Opens it. Closes it again. You watch him, unsure if he’s about to say something else or just go back to the others.

But he just refills his glass, nods at you, and disappears down the hall with Nilo trailing after him.

You stay a moment longer, blinking at the fridge like it might say something instead.

Eventually, you go upstairs. You tell Mamá you’re tired, and she kisses your forehead like that makes up for everything. Maybe it does. You don’t know anymore.

Your room feels too quiet with all the noise downstairs. Like you’re holding your breath up here while the rest of the house breathes normally.

You sit at your desk and look at the notebook. You flip it open.

You write:

December 23rd – i was in the kitchen. pedri said he thought they lost me. no one was looking. i don’t know what’s worse – that he said it like a joke or that he meant it.

You underline meant it twice.

Nilo scratches at the hallway door a few minutes later, probably out of habit. You hear Fer yell at him to chill out. You don't answer either of them.

You flip the page. Keep writing.

December 10th – got my first 90% in physics. printed it. left it on the table. papá moved it to wipe crumbs. didn’t ask what it was.December 14th – mar told me i look thinner. not in a nice way.December 17th – christmas assembly. didn’t tell anyone i was singing. they wouldn’t have come anyway.

You close the notebook.

Your throat feels tight. Not crying-tight. Just pressure, like holding something in your mouth too long and it starts to ache.

You pull your sleeves down over your hands and sit on the edge of the bed. The lights from outside your window blink red and white. You can hear laughter from downstairs - Mamá, probably. Fer and Papá arguing about who cheated at charades.

You used to love nights like this. Before it started feeling like you were fading out of them.

You curl under your blanket. Pull it over your head.

You think: maybe tomorrow someone will ask how school’s going.

You think: maybe tomorrow they’ll notice I’m not laughing.

You think: maybe tomorrow I’ll stop needing them to.

But you don’t write any of that down.

Not yet.

The house is dim when he wanders upstairs.

Fer’s crashed on the couch mid-video game, controller still in hand. Mamá and Papá fell asleep halfway through a holiday movie. Nilo’s curled up under the dining table, paws twitching every so often like he’s dreaming of chasing birds.

Pedri’s phone is dead. His charger, the long white one with the frayed edge that always works better than yours, is missing again. He sighs and heads toward your room, fully expecting to find it plugged into your desk like always.

He knocks once. No answer. The light under your door is off.

You must already be asleep.

He pushes the door open slowly, careful not to wake you.

Your desk is a mess of pens and paper and one of those candles you’re technically not supposed to have in the house. Your blanket is pulled all the way over your head like it usually is when you’re trying to disappear.

He smiles a little. He doesn’t mean to be nosy. He’s just looking for the charger. He spots it, half tucked under a notebook near the edge of the desk.

He grabs the cord.

Then pauses.

The notebook shifts slightly. Opens just enough for him to glimpse his own name written in the corner of a page.

He shouldn’t read it.

He knows that.

But the way it’s written, not in a heading, not even in a sentence, just his name in lowercase at the edge of the margin, makes something uneasy curl in his stomach.

He flips it open.

Just one page.

Then another.

And another.

His mouth goes dry.

There’s no decoration. No doodles. Just simple lines. Fragments. Dates.

may 3rd – my period started. hid the skirt in my closet. mamá gone.june 1st – got called pretty by someone i liked. didn’t say it back.june 14th – got an A+ on my english paper. left it on the counter. no one noticed.november 6th – pedri was home. didn’t ask how i was. didn’t notice i cried in the bathroom.

He keeps reading.

Not fast. Not slowly either. Like someone walking barefoot over glass, every step careful, and somehow still hurting.

Your name is never written once.

Just “i.” Lowercase. Quiet.

Like you wanted to vanish even from your own story.

He swallows hard and shuts the notebook. Gently. Like it might shatter if he uses too much force.

He unplugs the charger. Stares at the wall for a second too long.

You shift under the blanket, mumbling something in your sleep.

He turns around and leaves the room without a sound.

The notebook stays exactly where it was.

But something in him doesn’t.

It takes him ten minutes to come back.

He paces the hallway for a bit first, barefoot and quiet, like he’s afraid the floor might tell on him. Nilo watches from the stairs with his head tilted, sensing something’s off but not sure what.

Pedri’s heart’s still racing. Not fast like a match. Not adrenaline. Just heavy. Like everything he just read is pressing against his chest, page after page after page.

He waits until he hears Fer snore downstairs. Mamá coughs once in her sleep, then silence.

Your room is still dark.

He pushes the door open again, slower this time, even though it’s already wide enough. The moonlight spills through the window just enough for him to see you haven’t moved. Still curled under your blanket, back to the wall. Still small.

He doesn’t look at you long. He doesn’t want to risk waking you.

He crosses the room in two quiet steps and picks up the notebook. He holds it like it’s fragile. It feels heavier than it did ten minutes ago.

He leaves just as fast.

Door shut. Hall crossed. Bedroom door closed.

He sits on the edge of his bed and opens it again.

Not to the first page this time.

He flips through randomly, stopping every few entries.

october 1st – got ghosted. never told anyone i liked him anyway.october 3rd – dinner alone again. they were at the match in madrid. left a plate in the fridge.october 9th – fer forgot my birthday card. mamá said it’s okay, he’s busy. i said it was okay too. it wasn’t.

He closes his eyes and exhales.

He remembers that week. He’d been exhausted from training. Mamá and Papá had flown out for the game and asked if you needed anything. You’d said no. Of course you said no.

He flips another few pages.

november 23rd – told marina i think something’s wrong with me. i think she thought i was joking.december 2nd – watched my old dance video. don’t know when i stopped wanting to do that.december 5th – feel like a ghost in a full house.

He rubs a hand over his mouth.

He didn’t know. No - he didn’t ask.

And it’s not like he never cared. He does care. He just… assumed you’d come to him if something was wrong. Like you used to. When you were little. When he brought you stickers from training and you used to draw on his arms in marker. When he mattered to you in a way that felt obvious.

But he hasn’t made it easy for you to come to him lately. He’s been gone. Distracted. Caught up in everything else.

He flips to the most recent page.

december 23rd – i was in the kitchen. pedri said he thought they lost me. no one was looking. i don’t know what’s worse – that he said it like a joke or that he meant it.

His throat burns.

He sets the notebook down on his bed. Runs a hand over his face. He doesn’t cry, not yet. He just feels it. In the way his stomach tightens. In the way his fingers curl against the sheets.

He looks at the door like maybe it’ll give him a solution.

But it doesn’t.

The room stays quiet.

He stays awake long after midnight, sitting on the edge of the bed with your notebook in his lap.

He reads every single page.

Not fast. Not slowly. Just enough to finally listen.

He sneaks the notebook back into your room and goes to bed.

The morning comes slow.

Pedri doesn’t sleep much, just lays there with your notebook still on his nightstand, spine dented from being held too tightly. He gets up early, throws on a hoodie, pulls the hood low. Says something about grabbing milk.

No one really hears him.

It’s cold outside, but not freezing. That perfect winter air that’s all bite and no breath. He walks the long way to the shop, hands in his pockets, head down, trying not to think. Failing completely.

The shop’s mostly empty, just the usual corner clutter, a radio playing reggaetón too loud, and a woman with a screaming toddler by the bread.

Pedri grabs the milk. Starts to head for the counter.

And then-

“Pedri?”

He turns.

It’s Marina.

Hair braided, phone in one hand, coat dusted with glitter. She’s surprised to see him. Not starstruck, she’s been around the house since you were in primary school, but surprised. Like he doesn’t belong in this context, hoodie and all.

“Hey,” he says, awkwardly. “Didn’t expect to see you.”

“Me neither.” She laughs lightly. “Milk run?”

“Something like that.”

There’s a beat. He should just say goodbye.

But he doesn’t.

“Hey… uh-” he scratches the back of his neck. “You and my sister. You’re close, right?”

Marina blinks. “Yeah. Why?”

“Just…” He hesitates. Looks down at the milk like it might help him find the words. “Have you noticed anything off with her lately?”

She tenses. Not visibly. But Pedri’s watching now. He sees it.

“I mean,” he adds quickly, “I know she’s quiet, but… I read something. I think something’s wrong. I just don’t know what.”

Marina shifts her weight.

“She doesn’t tell me much anymore,” she admits, softer. “Not about real stuff.”

Pedri nods. “Same.”

Another pause. Then:

“She told me once she thinks she’s too much. That people don’t want to hear her problems. She always shrugs it off. But I think she really believes it.”

Pedri’s throat tightens.

“She said that?” he asks.

Marina looks at him, expression serious now. “Pedri, she thinks no one’s listening. That she’s invisible in her own house.”

He swallows hard. The milk feels heavy in his hand.

“She’s not invisible,” he says quietly.

Marina raises an eyebrow. “Then prove it.”

Pedri can’t answer.

Not yet.

He just thanks her, pays, and walks home, a conversation waiting for him, and a hundred things finally starting to make sense.

You notice it the second you wake up.

The notebook’s been moved.

You keep it tucked sideways under your bed, pushed back between a loose floorboard and the wall. But this morning it’s closer. The corner sticks out. You feel it before you even see it.

You sit up slowly. Stare.

Your stomach turns.

You pull it out, flip through it fast, fingers trembling. Every page is there. Uncreased. Unmarked. But you know. You know.

Someone read it.

No, he read it.

Because the charger you borrowed? It’s sitting on your desk. Perfectly wrapped. Like it was placed there carefully.

Your heart hammers.

You shove the notebook back. Don’t say anything. Not at breakfast. Not at lunch. Not when Fer asks if you’re feeling sick because you’re quiet. Not when Mamá calls you mi cielo and tells you you’re glowing.

You just keep moving. You don’t know what else to do.

But Pedri watches you all day. Not obvious. Not heavy. Just… different. Like he’s seeing you properly for the first time.

You know the knock is coming before it happens.

It’s been building all day, in the way Pedri watched you over breakfast, in how his laugh never really hit full volume, in how he walked past your room three separate times and didn’t say a word.

And then finally: rap-rap-rap.

You almost don’t answer.

You almost pretend to be asleep or gone or something in between.

But then you hear him shift his weight, like he’s about to walk away, and it stings in a way that shouldn’t.

“Come in.”

The door creaks open. Pedri steps inside, hands in the front pocket of his hoodie. He looks tired. Not just physically. There’s something in the way he moves, careful, uncertain, like he’s expecting you to throw him out before he even speaks.

“Can I…?” he motions toward the bed.

You don’t say yes, but you don’t say no either.

He sits. Perches, more like. Like if he breathes too hard, he’ll knock something over.

You don’t look at him.

He doesn’t speak right away.

“I read it,” he says.

You blink, eyes fixed on the smudge of nail polish on your thumb. “I know.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“You finished it, though.”

That lands hard.

He shifts. “Yeah.”

Silence.

You count your breaths. Try to keep them even. Try not to shake with the rage and embarrassment building under your skin.

“It was private.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you keep reading?”

His voice is so quiet. “Because I couldn’t stop.”

You clench your jaw.

He goes on anyway. “Because I didn’t know it was this bad. I didn’t know how invisible you felt. I thought-”

“You thought I was fine.”

“Yeah.”

You laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Of course you did.”

Pedri flinches.

“You know what’s crazy?” you ask, still not looking at him. “You read every single thing I’ve been too scared to say out loud. And even now, sitting here, you still don’t really see me.”

“I do-”

“No, you don’t. You feel bad. That’s not the same.”

He falls silent again.

You wipe your sleeve across your cheek when the burn behind your eyes gets too sharp. You’re not crying for him. You’re not.

“Do you know what it feels like to watch our whole family fly around you like planets?” you ask. “To be the one thing that doesn’t orbit anyone? To go to bed in an empty house and wake up in an empty house and still be expected to smile because at least you’re part of the picture?”

His breathing changes. Sharper. Shaky.

“Do you know what it’s like to sit in a room full of people you love and still feel like a ghost?”

Pedri doesn’t answer.

You finally look at him.

He looks gutted.

Good.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m really, really sorry.”

“I know,” you say. “But that doesn’t fix it.”

He nods. Looks down at his hands.

You let the silence stretch.

“I needed you,” you say finally. “For a long time. And you didn’t even know.”

Pedri’s voice breaks when he says, “I wish I’d seen it sooner.”

You shrug. “Doesn’t matter now.”

“Of course it matters.”

“No,” you say, more tired than angry now. “You can’t un-lose years.”

He looks at you like he wants to argue, but he doesn’t. Because he knows you’re right.

You pull your knees to your chest.

He gets up, slowly.

Stands in your doorway, like he wants to say something else, something better.

But he doesn’t.

He just nods once.

And leaves.

It’s quiet in the house again.

Papá and Fer left just after lunch, heading to visit some friend of Papá’s out in the next town over. Something about a new vineyard and free wine. You stayed in your room. Said you were tired. No one pushed you.

Pedri watched you walk down the hall and shut your door without looking back.

He didn’t eat much after that.

Mamá’s in the kitchen now, humming to herself while peeling oranges, soft flamenco guitar playing from the speaker she keeps on top of the fridge. It should feel peaceful.

But Pedri’s shaking.

He leans against the doorframe, watching her hands move. He opens his mouth once, twice, nothing comes out. Then-

“Mamá.”

She turns. “¿Sí, mi amor?”

He swallows.

And breaks.

“I messed up.”

Her hands still. The orange peel dangles in a spiral from her fingers. She gives him that look, the one that’s half concern, half calculation, like she’s trying to work out if he’s hurt, or in trouble, or both.

“What’s happened?”

Pedri doesn’t sit. He paces once, rubs his palms against his jeans, exhales hard.

“She’s not okay,” he says. “My sister. She’s not okay.”

Mamá frowns. “What do you mean? She seemed fine yesterday.”

“She’s not.”

“Pedri-”

“I read her notebook.”

Rosie’s eyebrows lift. “You what?”

“I didn’t mean to. I was looking for my charger and I saw it and- Mamá, I didn’t know. I didn’t know she felt like this.”

“Felt like what?”

He stops pacing. Looks straight at her.

“Alone.”

The word hits the tile like a dropped glass.

“She writes everything down,” Pedri goes on, voice low, like if he says it too loud it’ll echo. “All the things we’ve missed. The stuff she didn’t tell us. It’s- Mamá, she thinks we don’t care.”

Rosie’s face tightens. “That’s not true.”

“I know it’s not. We know it’s not. But she doesn’t. Not really.”

He sits down hard at the kitchen table. Runs both hands through his hair.

“She wrote about bleeding through her school uniform and doing the laundry herself so no one would find out. About getting awards and hiding them. About singing in the Christmas assembly and not inviting us because she knew we wouldn’t be there.”

Mamá’s face goes pale. She sinks into the chair across from him.

“She thinks she’s invisible. In this house. In this family. And she’s right, Mamá. We didn’t see her.”

Rosie presses her hand to her mouth.

“She thinks I only notice her when something’s wrong,” Pedri says. “And she’s right about that too.”

“I… I didn’t know she felt that way.”

“She told Marina she didn’t think anyone wanted to hear her problems. That she didn’t want to bother anyone.”

Rosie’s hand trembles.

“I read her words, Mamá. She was screaming in lowercase.”

That’s what finally cracks it.

Rosie pushes her chair back and covers her face with both hands. She doesn’t sob, not like in the movies, but her shoulders shake.

“I thought we were doing enough,” she says, voice thick. “I thought being proud of you and Fer… I thought if we were happy, she would be too.”

“I think we left her behind without meaning to.”

Rosie wipes her eyes with the heel of her hand. “Why didn’t she say anything?”

Pedri doesn’t answer.

They both know the reason.

Because she did. Just not with her mouth.

Pedri leans forward.

“I want to fix it,” he says. “But I don’t know how.”

Rosie nods, still blinking fast. “We will. We have to.”

“She doesn’t want us to fix it for her. She just wants us to see her.”

Mamá nods again. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

Pedri exhales. Sits back. Feels like his ribs might finally loosen.

But there’s still that ache behind everything.

Because seeing her now doesn’t change the fact that no one saw her then.

You only came down because you were hungry.

Not for food, really, just something. Some kind of feeling. Some kind of noise. The silence in your room was starting to feel like drowning.

But then you walk into the kitchen and stop cold.

Mamá’s got her hands pressed over her eyes. Pedri hunched forward at the table, face pale, mouth tight, like he’s holding something back and losing the battle. There’s a half-peeled orange between them. The smell is sharp. Sickly sweet.

They both look up at the same time.

You don’t say anything. You just stand there in your hoodie and socks, frozen like the child they forgot they had.

Pedri opens his mouth. Closes it.

Mamá speaks first. Her voice cracks on your name.

You swallow. “Is this about me?”

No one answers.

So you ask again, louder this time. “Is this about me?”

“Yes,” Pedri says, without hesitation. “All of it.”

You laugh, but it’s ugly. A sound made of disbelief and exhaustion. “You wait until I’m practically a stranger to figure out I’m in the room.”

Mamá steps toward you, but you take a step back.

“Don’t,” you say. “Don’t come near me and pretend this is new. I’ve been like this. For months. Years.”

Her voice shakes. “We didn’t know-”

“Because you didn’t look.”

That lands.

Hard.

Pedri covers his face with both hands. Mamá sits down again, shakily, like her legs won’t hold her weight.

“I got my first period and washed it out alone,” you say, voice trembling. “I sang in a school assembly and watched other people’s parents clap for me. I won an award and left it on the counter and no one said a thing. I grew up while you were watching Pedri play football.”

Tears slip down your cheeks, fast and hot. You don’t wipe them.

“I needed someone,” you whisper. “And you were always gone. Or tired. Or proud of someone else.”

Mamá’s crying now. Fully. Her shoulders are shaking. She reaches for you again, but you flinch, and it breaks her in half.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t know you were hurting. I didn’t know-”

“You didn’t want to.”

The words are cruel, but they’re true.

Pedri stands, eyes glossy. “Please don’t say that.”

“Why not?” you snap. “You got everything. The cheers, the trips, the dinners out, the plane tickets, the framed shirts, the texts that said ‘we’re so proud of you.’ What did I get? A cold kitchen and a plate in the fridge.”

He walks closer. Not too close. Just close enough that you feel it.

“I read what you wrote,” he says. “And I can’t unread it. I’ve never felt like a worse brother.”

You stare at him.

Good.

“Everything in there,” he continues, “was a punch to the gut. But I needed it. I needed it. Because you were screaming so quietly and I still managed not to hear you.”

He looks at you like he’s drowning.

“You don’t have to forgive me. But I need you to know: I’m listening now. I see you now.”

You blink, and the tears fall harder.

Mamá stands too, voice shaking. “You deserved better than what we gave you. You deserved parents who noticed. I don’t know how to fix that yet, but I swear to God, I’m not letting this go.”

You stand there for a moment, chest heaving, heart so loud in your ears you can barely think.

Then you whisper, “It’s too late to go back.”

Pedri nods. “I know.”

“But maybe,” you add, barely breathing the words, “it’s not too late to start again.”

He looks at you like that one sentence just gave him air for the first time in days.

Mamá sobs behind her hand.

You walk forward.

You don’t hug them.

But you sit at the table. Pick up the half-peeled orange. Break off a piece. Eat it.

And that’s enough.

For now.

The kitchen is warm from the late afternoon sun slipping through the window, casting long gold stripes across the table. The oranges Mamá peeled are gone now, their scent lingering faintly in the air.

You sit at the table, tracing the grain of the wood with your fingertips. Pedri is beside you, quiet, rubbing the back of his neck as he glances at you every few seconds. Mamá is nearby, clearing the dishes slowly, her movements deliberate but gentle. None of you speak. Not yet.

The silence feels different now - not heavy or sharp, but expectant, like the calm before the first step.

You break it, voice soft but steady.

“Can we… try to do better?”

Pedri looks up, meeting your eyes.

Mamá sets a plate down and sits beside you, wiping her hands on a towel.

“We will,” she says, voice small but certain.

The words float between you all, fragile promises without a map.

You shift in your seat. “I don’t want us to pretend it never happened. I don’t want us to act like everything’s fixed because it’s not.”

Pedri nods slowly. “I don’t want that either. I want to actually see you. Not just the quiet version or the angry one. All of you.”

You blink, surprised by the tenderness in his voice. “I want that too.”

Mamá’s eyes soften. “Maybe we start with small things. Little check-ins. Dinner together without distractions. No phones, no screens.”

You think about the last dinner you actually had like that, months ago, maybe longer.

“I’d like that,” you say.

Pedri smiles faintly, and for the first time in a long time, it feels real. Not forced or shaky, but honest.

“You know,” he says, “I was so scared that if I asked how you were, you’d just say you were fine and close off.”

You laugh, low and tired. “Yeah, I’m good at that.”

“Maybe we just have to keep asking,” he says, “even when you say you’re fine.”

You look at Mamá.

She reaches out, squeezing your hand gently.

“We’re not going to be perfect,” she admits. “But we’re going to try. For you.”

You feel something warm rise in your chest. A crack in the armor you’ve worn for so long.

“It’s not about being perfect,” you say. “It’s about being here.”

The sun slips lower, bathing the room in soft orange light. Nilo pads in, tail wagging, nudges your hand with his nose.

You reach down to pet him, feeling a little lighter than before.

Pedri leans back, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to see,” he says quietly.

You look at him.

“It’s okay,” you reply, voice breaking just a little. “But don’t wait so long next time.”

He nods.

Mamá smiles through tears.

The three of you sit there for a while, no grand gestures, no big speeches, just breathing the same air, sharing the same space.

And in that quiet, imperfect moment, you start to believe that maybe, just maybe, things can be different.

Days pass, and the house feels a little less empty.

Dinners happen more often, sometimes with laughter breaking through the silence.

Pedri starts asking about your day, small questions, no pressure, just checking in.

Mamá leaves notes in your lunchbox, little reminders that someone’s thinking of you.

Fer notices too. He’s still distant sometimes, but when he does walk by, he gives you a nod or a smile.

It’s not perfect. Some days, the old feelings crawl back in, heavy and unwelcome.

But now you know you’re not alone.

One evening, you catch Pedri practicing his shots in the backyard.

You stand at the door, watching.

He sees you.

Smiles.

“You watching or waiting for me to miss?” he teases.

You laugh, the sound light, almost free.

“Maybe a little of both.”

He kicks the ball toward you gently.

You catch it, feeling the connection, not just to the ball, but to him, to your family, to something you thought you’d lost.

And as you stand there, the sky darkening with stars, you realize healing isn’t a destination.

It’s the small steps forward.

Together.

[nialls-golf-putt]

A/N: Fluffy silly goofy boyfriend on vacation. Adorable. You're welcome. And lmk if we want more of him. (Also it's very dialog heavy, oops?)

C/W : None I think, for once? a bit of swearing.

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"That is definitely not appropriate for summer," You said, barely holding back your laughter at how ridiculous he looked.

"What d'you mean, princess. I look like an absolute dreamboat. This is how everyone should dress on vacation."

As much as you loved the stupid man, this time, he did not. He was currently wearing a bright yellow mackintosh over his grey shorts. You still had no idea when he'd snuck it into the suitcases.

"It's not going to rain today, Niall. Or like, at any point all of next week," You sighed fondly, watching him give you a small twirl. Right there at the hotel breakfast buffet.

"It can double as like, a sun cover. I won't get tanned-"

"You burn anyway, baby. And I bought plenty of sunscreen," You said, giving him a small look as you bit into your croissant. "You're taking that off when we go back to the room to get my bag. Honestly, sweetheart, you don't need to declare to everyone that we're tourists with no business being out in the sun."

"You've got no sense of whimsy, pet," Niall mock grumbled, sitting back down in the chair.

"Because nothing screams whimsy like a raincoat in an Italian summer." You rolled your eyes, chuckling under your breath. "Besides, aren't you hot in that-"

"Absolutely sweatin' my balls off. I'll take it off when we're back at the room. Only cause I'm sweaty. Not cause you said." He said, nudging your foot playfully with his.

"Keep telling yourself that," You said, shaking your head, laughing as he flicked a small piece of bacon at you, catching it and eating it instead.

"You'll thank me when we're at the beach," You said, leaning in to kiss his cheek, smiling wider when you saw the look in his eyes at the mention of the beach.

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"This isn't thankin' you, for the record," Niall said out of nowhere. He was lying on a towel spread out in the sand, fingers digging in through the fabric as he just watched you splashing about in the water for a few minutes. "But it is hot as balls here. Would've looked silly carting that piece of plastic around."

"Told you so," You stuck your tongue out at me.

"Yeah, yeah, little miss genius," He rolled his eyes, kicking a bit of sand playfully at you, laughing at the offended look on your face. HIs smile turned to a warning one as you got out of the water, hands cupped carefully, advancing towards him with a gleam in your eyes.

"Princess, have I ever told you how much I love you in a bikini-"

"Oh no," You said, grinning even wider. "That's not gonna work right now."

"Don't you dare, ba-"

You didn't even let him finish, splashing him with the warm water. "C'mon," You mumbled, tugging at his -. "It's nice and warm, stop just sitting here and drinking beer."

"It's a perfectly respectable way to spend the vacation-" He started, but grudgingly lifted his arms anyway, letting you pull it off. "I didn't pack board shorts- Or anything else, for that matter." He said, standing up as you held your hand out to him.

"Doesn't matter. It'll dry out in a bit," You said, already pulling him with you into the water.

"It'll dry all-"

"Stop talking, Ni, honestly-" You shut him up with a kiss, pulling back after a few moments. "You taste like salty beer. I don't like it." You said, scrunching your nose. "Plus you're all stubbly. Please shave when we're back."

"Anything else to add to the list of complaints, m'lady?" He rolled his eyes, splashing you with his hand.

"Comb your hair, too," You said playfully. "And I'd like a coke once we're out of here."

"Oh no, I know that look. You're gonna say something soppy enough to make a hallmark movie writer cringe," Niall teased playfully, kissing your forehead, then pushing your salt-sticky hair back, chuckling at the way you rolled your eyes at him.

He sighed dramatically, pulling you closer, his fingers dancing along your waist. You smiled up at him, arms wrapping around his neck.

"Lucky for you I love corny shit. Hit me."

"piss off,* you giggled, punching his arm playfully, rolling your eyes as he dramatically winced. "Just thinking how much I love you, drama queen and all."

"I resent that allegation but I'm not gonna fight you in it, princess,' he grinned, planting another kiss on your forehead before holding out his forearm. "M'lady,"

When you raised an eyebrow, smiling amusedly, he rolled his eyes as though it was obvious.

"We have a coca cola to get, for the lady. And the gentleman requires another beer.*

"Stop talking in the third person you silly doof." You grinned, looping your arm through his, shutting him up with your lips before he could protest again. "C'mon, let's go get that coke. And your beer."

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Feel free to send me bot/fic requests in my inbox/dms. Or hmu if you wanna be on the taglist! Much love! Comments and reblogs always appreciated

Masterlist on my profile <3

[yourch1ld]

Stupid Dare (Part 1)

additional tags: sfw, phiilip graves × male!reader, college!au, call of duty

A/N: so, hello, I'm new here and here's my stupid fanfic (?), this is mid, but I swear I'll try make next chapter better and cooler, thank you in advance for your time! <3 (and yes, English is not my first language, so sorry if there're mistakes).

Part 2

-------------‐---------------------------------------------------------

Finally, the moment came when you moved away from your toxic parents to another place — a college you barely scored enough points to get into with a scholarship. You thought things couldn’t get worse, that a new life was ahead and everything would be great.

WRONG.

It was the end of August, and you arrived at your college dorm in Texas. There are no words to describe how nervous you were, but a kind lady helped you find your room and not get lost in the chaos of students just like you.

Your former friend always said that no matter what, you’d be able to make new acquaintances and friends. But that also didn’t go the way you hoped. You became a loner, and the only looks you got were judgmental — or curious… curious about how weird you were.

The only thing you were lucky with was work. Sure, working at the local McDonald's wasn’t fancy, but you got paid well enough to not starve.

Things couldn’t possibly get worse… right?

They could.

There was someone called Phillip Graves. He was on the football team — not the most popular one there, but still got attention from girls. Though nothing more than flirting ever happened between him and them.

It was Friday evening of the first week of classes, and all the football guys were hanging out in one of the rooms, playing “Truth or Dare.”

As usual, they spun the bottle, and at some point, it pointed to Graves. A mischievous grin appeared on his face and he simply said, “Dare.”

"Then we dare you to start a relationship with that weirdo..."— one of the guys said.

"Yeah, remember that LGBT pin on his bag? So pathetic..." — another one added.

"If you want, we could even pay you a little extra to fuck him and record it, ‘cause this is too funny to just do it for a game..."— the team captain said while looking at Phillip.

The grin stayed on the boy’s face.

It was pathetic that he agreed — but that was drunk Graves…

The next morning, Phillip began his little hunt.

He tracked you down and slithered like a desert snake toward a mouse — right when you were alone in the open area behind the school, sitting in the grass.

"Hey, cutie, is it hot out here, or is it just ‘cause a thing like you’s around?"— a devilish smile crept across his face as he came closer, leaning over you.

You didn’t answer, just blushed and looked up. Clearly, no one had ever flirted with your virgin ass back in your hometown.

"Don’t be nervous, babe, it’s just me — Phillip. You can call me Phil if that helps you relax."— he suddenly sat down next to you and rested his head on your shoulder like he had known you forever.

It looked like a damn romcom (sorry), but you couldn’t do anything about it.

That kept happening for several days. He’d come sit by you, say a few words…

Honestly, it made Phillip feel relaxed, and your quietness seemed kind of cute.

One day, you finally started talking to Phillip, and oh God — you liked his temperament, his voice, the way he moved his hands…

It was probably the first time you fell for someone — not some game character, but a real guy.

But of course, in Graves’s head, there was already a plan.

One that was in motion.

And you — you were the target, the prize, the toy in his hands. Like 3-in-1 instant coffee.

[regular-lord-reckoner]

so i took my car in today because i thought it might just need some more brake fluid and although i tried to just look at it myself i couldn't for the life of me figure out which part under the hood was the brake fluid reservoir without having to lean all over my car and get all dirty, so i figured i might just have to pay a service fee and whatever for the fluid itself...

turns out i need all new brake pads !!

ahaha

haha

ha

yay

[ourceliumnetwork]

good news: the noises i keep hearing outside are NOT intermittent fireworks!

not as good news: the noises i keep hearing outside are RIGHT outside because it's the neighbors doing stuff again because it's the weekend

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Urgent Call

"I need your phone."

Tim looks up from his laptop. The boy in front of him looks like he's been dragged to Hell a week ago and just made it back: smudges of soot on his face, his not-so-white t-shirt smelling of smoke, and a nasty looking burn on his hand that he somehow doesn't even pay attention to. Tim thinks back to his mental list of 'Rogues currently on the loose', but it's only Ivy and Harley (who don't even count anymore), and Penguin, who is not known for setting things on fire.

"I can call 911 for you, if you want?" He offers, because this is still Gotham. Despite the fact that a slightly scorched guy casually walking into a coffee shop is not something out of the ordinary here, he's not giving his phone to strangers.

The guy grimaces and starts aggressively rummaging through his pockets.

"No, thanks, ACAB and all that, and they won't do shit here anyway," he says, and then pulls a handful of tangled golden jewelry — rings, chains, necklaces with various gems in them — from his pocket and places it on the table in front of Tim. "I need your phone," he repeats.

Tim stares. First, at the gold — these things look antique, and his parents were archeologists, he knows what he's talking about — then, back at the guy. He looks... ordinary, sans the dirt and smell.

But the burn on his hand looks significantly more healed than it did just a minute ago.

Thankfully, Tim has already had his cup of morning coffee. Which means he is thinking very rationally when he does get his phone out of his pocket and hands it to the guy, just to see what he does next.

"Thanks," the guy grins at him, plucking the phone out of Tim's hand and unlocking it. Tim's eyebrows shoot up — there's a password there! — but the stranger is already dialing in a number and pressing the phone to his ear.

It takes less than a second before someone evidently picks up, and the guy starts talking.

"I have less than three minutes before the phone dies, so listen very carefully. Etrigan is fine, Jason is not, Klarion is still being a bitch. Dora won't help anymore, so you're on your own until Sam makes it there with the staff. I'm in Gotham because, apparently, mazes and I don't mix well together, so if you could summon me back, that'd be cool," he says, a look of mild annoyance on his face.

Tim is back to staring at him. He recognizes some of the names, and, well, one could have been an oddity, two a coincidence, but three is a pattern.

"The fuck you mean you can't, I gave you the incantation two months ago!" The guy raises his voice, his foot tapping on the floor in frustration. "Do you think I just go around giving my summons to people for shits and giggles? Like, yeah, have a spell that unleashes a cosmic being of immeasurable power, use it as a bookmark!"

This interaction, despite Tim only hearing one side of it, gets more and more alarming with every word.

But then, the boy suddenly straightens up and stills, his eyes flashing bright, unpleasantly familiar green.

"You what?" He asks, his voice slipping from just angry to quietly enraged hiss, "Sold it to whom?!" But, before he gets an answer, Tim's phone makes a thin, tiny buzzing sound, and the guy takes it off his ear, looking at the screen.

"No, no-no-no," he mutters, shaking it like that would make it work. To no avail, though: the phone screen flashes a few times and goes black. The guy curses. At least Tim thinks it's a curse because he doesn't understand a word, but the stranger's face and intonation are telling.

"Useless fucking moron of a human, I swear I'm going to drown you in cow shit once this is over," he switches to English, dropping the phone on the table right by the small pile of gold, "I'll bargain your pathetic soul from everyone you've ever dealt with and give it to the Observants, and maybe, after a few millenia of endless Council paperwork, I'll have mercy and sell it back to Lucifer and watch him fry you on a skillet."

...Whoever the boy is, Tim absolutely refuses to ever piss him off, okay. That's an impressive threat to even make, not to mention being able to go through with it.

"Do you need help?" He asks cautiously. If he is getting his context clues right, this is something that involves JLD, and maybe John Constantine specifically since Tim doesn't know any other man who is a magic user, sold his soul numerous times, would care about Etrigan's wellbeing, and could invoke this kind of murderous intent.

The boy looks back at him, his eyes back to normal blue.

"Huh? Oh, no, I doubt this can be helped," he waves Tim off and pinches the bridge of his nose, "Sorry about the phone, but, unless you have a way to yeet me across the globe so I end up in London in the next twenty minutes..." he shrugs, smiling in that helpless 'nothing you can do here' way.

Tim picks up his phone. It's dead, wholly and completely, won't even turn on when he tries.

He really, really shouldn't do that. This is definitely none of his business, and very much out of his capabilities and area of expertise.

But he thinks about the zeta-tube in the Cave.

"Actually," he says, and the guy's eyes snap back to him, a bewildered sort of surprise on his face.

[marks-bby]

⠀⠀⠀“WHAT?! SEX BAN?!”

﹅ contains ;; gojo satoru , kento nanami , choso kamo , toji fushiguro , ryomen sukuna , geto suguru

﹅ alt title ;; how long the jjk men can withstand the sex ban

﹅ warnings ;; sorta sub!choso , whiny!choso , toji's part is more explicit than the others , this is my first time writing for some of the character so i'm sorry if i didn't describe them well

GOJO SATORU (3 days)

“are you serious?” gojo groans, slumping forwards. gojo watched in disappointment as you crossed your arms, looking away from him. "you did it so you have to pay." for weeks, you've been trying to tell gojo to separate the colors from the whites while doing laundry. him just wanting to get it over with, he dumped them all in the same load, ruining some of your favorite pieces of clothing.

"baby, please. i won't do it again," he begs, kneeling in front of you. but to no avail, you stood your ground.

it only took him 3 days to convince you to wave your white flag, surrendering to his seduction. "you look good in my shirts." gojo's hands caress your hips as he presses his chest to your back. "i would be in my clothes if you would just listen to me." you huff, "i never said i was disappointed." gojo whispered, his hard-on pressing on your ass.

“please. just drop the ‘sex ban’. i said i was sorry.” his lips make a trail of kisses on your neck. you needed him too. whenever he wasn’t around, you would use your toys, trying to not let gojo know you were sexually needy. but they didn’t work.

RYOMEN SUKUNA (not happening!)

no. just no. it’s funny that you even thought about putting that in motion. sukuna was too desperate for sex but never wanted to admit it.

“no,” he stood above, crossing his arms, making himself seem bigger than you (as if he even needed to do that). “you can’t deprive me of sex, woman.” he grunts. “but i can, kuna. that’s what you fail to realize.” you tut, standing up to walk away.

one of his four arms wraps around your waist, throwing you back on the soft surface. "you're not going through with this." he growls in your ear, crawling go top of you.

how dare you even think such a thing? you were his woman, his twin flame. you were the only person he showed the littlest respect to and you decide to do some foolery like this.

he tugs your shirt over your head, your bra coming next. his rough hands slide over your chest. "such beauty..." he whispers. "i'll make sure you never think of this again.

KENTO NANAMI (it was on accident)

his job was taking him away from you. between being a jujutsu sorcerer and a businessman, he couldn't find time to be a partner for you.

due to the lack of attention you were receiving, you became sexually pent up, having the urge to pleasure yourself at the worst times. the feeling of neglect was creeping up on you. some days, you forgot nanami even lived with you.

"love, i'm home." nanami tugs off his tie, tossing it to the side. "i don't know how long i can take of this." he rubs his temples, deeply sighing as he led himself to your shared bedroom. before his hand touched the cold metal knob, he heard your muffled moans and the squelching of your cunt.

he slowly opens the door, peeking in the room before fully entering. "it seems i've neglected you." he watches as you quickly cover yourself as if he hasn't seen you naked many times. he unbuttons the top of his shirt as he saunters to the edge of the bed, removing the covers off you.

"seems like i have some things to make up for."

CHOSO KAMO (not even a day)

"please." he whines, his head resting on your lap as he looks up at you. ever since you shared your first time with choso, he's been going at it with you like rabid dogs. if he wasn't inside you, his head was squished in between his thighs.

"choso, i need a break." you sigh, trying to remove him from off you. his grip on your legs was tight as he put his face in between your thighs, shaking his head. he was acting like he couldn't survive without your cunt somehow being involved.

"i swear, i'll leave you alone after. just please," he whined. you couldn't resist him for much longer. you hated when he got all whiny like a baby. he was spoiled because of you.

"fine." you undo the tie of your sweatpants before his hands swatted yours away, tugging your pants and panties off. "i promised you." he kisses your inner thigh before his tongue began flicking away.

TOJI FUSHIGURO (mans was balls deep in you the second you said it)

"you really think so?" he darkly chuckles, rubbing himself on you. "toji, i'm sorry. please." you whine, wiggling your ass on his cock. "i don't think you are." he teases, stepping away from you.

you whine, following him. "it was a joke." you press your hand on his chest. "did i laugh?" he tilts his head, smirking at you. you sigh, "toji, i'm sorry." you press yourself against him, your chest touching his.

"fuck." you knew he couldn't resist the feeling of your chest on him. it was like heaven to him. "turn around." he grunts, gripping your hips to turn you around, bending you over.

he easily slid inside of you due to how wet you got over time. "don't say stuff you don't mean, baby." he laughs, thrusting into your backside. it was worth it.

GETO SUGURU (you gave in after implementing it)

you wanted to test geto's limits, giving him an extra nnn moment which made you realize something. it was always you initiating sex. "geto, please. i give up." you whine, following him around the house.

he chuckles, "everyone must deal with their consequences, my love." he turns to you. he plastered a sinister smile, taunting you. he saw how much you needed him but he wasn't caving in until he heard you say it.

"i'll do anything. my hand isn't even working anymore." you simper. it was starting to become frustrating seeing how calm he was about all of this as you were suffering.

"i need you! is that what you wanted to hear?" you shout, earning a grin from him. he walks closer to you, his finger tracing your jawline, "why didn't you say that sooner, love?" he chuckles.

[madamechrissy]

Conjuring Ryomen Sukuna

pairings - Haunted Doll/Demon Sukuna x f!reader

summary - Your haunted doll Sukuna is really creeping out everyone you know, so you're tired of it! He is always watching, he scares your dates away - rude! You decide enough is enough, and after numerous times trying to destroy him, you get the help of a friend to sage/smudge the house. Big mistake!

warnings - Horror tbh lol, COMPLETE CRACK, spitting, name calling, oral (f receiving) Sukuna being psycho and just a freak, mating press, rough sex, creampie, Sukuna is basically Anabelle lmfao.

You can thank @yenayaps for spurring this on and for making the Sukuna pic lmao!! (also @indiewritesxoxo bc they rly get me on the weirdest paths)

You have tried so many times to get rid of your creepy, haunted ass doll!!! He's so torn up and raggedy, he's still covered in dirt from when you've buried him. He's sewn together in places (you never sewed him!?) his creepy ass grin and red button eyes terrifying as ever. You've thrown him in a blender, a dumpster, you've thrown him in the damn pond!

Fuck you burned him, earning some singed raggedy pink hair. But Nothing Works!!

He's always coming back, showing up on your chair, showing up in your fucking bed!? Sometimes you'd wake up and scream, and throw him out of the attic window, sometimes you'd stuff him in a trunk up there and you'd hear his creepy little footsteps as he ended up back in that rocking chair. You'd push him in your closet and he'd be sitting at the dinner table, waiting for you to serve him.

Not like you ever would!

What's the worse is when you tried to bring a date over, and the moment you thought maybe you could get off a bit - (fuck you deserve it living with this demonic doll) - the doors start slamming and the lights flicker! All of your dates run away in fear, and you're left endlessly frustrated all the time.

"I swear, I'm getting rid of you today!" You say this morning, shaking the doll and then throwing it on the floor, just for it to move it's head, making you scream. "God you're creepy, just wait!"

Your friend is a whole hippie, and thank goodness for that. You've buried Sukuna again in your garden, wiping the sweat off your brow as your friend looks at you with a concerned gaze. "I'll be right in, please go ahead!"

You may look insane burying this doll in your yard every week, surely the neighbors are concerned, but they have no clue the torture this damn thing causes. Cheap mortgage payments are not worth it!

"This is what you get for buying a haunted house you know," you're walking in, washing your hands in your kitchen as your friend shakes her head. "The energy in here is insane."

"I know, ugh. You know I couldn't afford anything else!" You dry your hands on a towel as she starts laying out crystals, evil eyes, and lighting the sage. The smoke makes you cough it's so thick, when she hands you one.

"Repeat this - you will not harm me."

"You will not cock block me!"

"Hey!" You blush then, realizing your words, clearing your throat as your friend rolls her eyes. "Why do I deal with you?"

"He really does, I haven't gotten dick since I've been here," you pout and she starts walking through the house, shivering. "Yeah, he sits in my room the most."

"We'll put extra protection in here," she's smudging more, opening all the windows, as you follow her - praying this doll was done - the next step was a whole exorcism!!

The doll doesn't return that day, you almost can't believe your luck, and that night he's still not there! You freely go on a date - he's not even that good of a kisser but you really need to get laid, it's been a whole year since this doll started. He's fingering you good enough in the car, that you decide to bring him in.

Typically, this is when your doll would start messing with you, but the house smells so clean and it's blissfully empty. Your date is kissing down your body as you lay in your bed, and for once the creepy doll isn't even here staring at you!

Yay for Sage!

"So pretty," he's murmuring, kissing up your thigh, you're moaning then, it's just been so long, you were even scared to masturbate because he's watched so much! "So wet..."

"Shh," you didn't need the dude to talk, no you really need to cum - but of course, he doesn't know what he's doing. But that's okay, you're just excited your creepy ass doll is gone, so you tug his face where it needs to be and work with it. "Mnh!"

"Hmm," that sound doesn't come from him, or you, in fact he's buried against your pussy when you look curiously to see it-

That Fucking Doll!

He's grinning at you, making you scream when your date pulls his lips off whatever part of your pussy he was going for, looking at the chair then. "Oh, I didn't see that - it's fucking creepy!"

"Just... um ignore it..." Soon the doll has slammed the damn door, your lights flicker again, and your tv is going on and off. "Dammit..."

"I'm sorry but... this is too creepy, he's like haunted!?" Your date runs out when the doll turns his creepy ass head, and you're done. You tug on your panties, picking the doll up by his hair, scowling.

"I'm getting an exorcist tomorrow, you creepy little shit!" You throw him out of your room with a huff, locking your door and grimacing, throwing a hand over your face.

You almost could have cum just grinding on the guys nose, you're that needy after this year of hell! You're grabbing your vibrator, spreading your thighs then, eyes fluttering shut. You have to just cum and you'll feel a little better, surely, hopefully the stupid doll does his usual routine and comes in after a couple hours.

The vibrations are hitting your clit, and your hips rise up, shutting your eyes and imagining how good it'll be to get rid of this stupid fucking doll, when the vibrator is snatched from your hand and thrown against the wall. You scream at that, eyes opening when a hand comes over your mouth.

Who the fuck is this!?!?

He's got glowing red eyes just like your doll, but he's huge, and he's naked, covered in tattoos as your eyes dart down his throat, his chest, and his big hand lets go. He smirks down at you, when you scooch up the bed, chest heaving, and he eyes your pussy, lapping at his plump lower lip.

"You thought that loser or that toy could make you cum, brat?" his voice is gruff as he speaks, you reach for your phone, but he throws that now too.

"Who are you!? How'd you get in?" You're covering yourself up with a pillow, only for him to throw that now too, as you look all over the room. "I have a haunted doll, he'll scare the shit out of you."

He laughs then, throwing his head back, before giving you an evil fucking grin, straddling your bed and making it creak with his heavy weight, one arm on either side of you. "Oh you're fucking dumb."

You glare and smack the shit out of him then, screaming out as your palm stings, he's chuckling again, and you see him hard, he's fucking huge. Veiny, a good nine inches, leaking precum on your damn bed, as he shoves up your top.

"Get the fuck out, who breaks in naked - you're a creep!" He's chuckling now, shaking his head, pink hair messy, his fingers gripping your breasts.

"I'm tired of watching you try to fuck all these losers," you gasp then, lips parted.

"You can't be..."

"My name isn't Anabelle by the fucking way," he says, glaring at you, and you tremble. "It's Sukuna, king of fucking curses."

"Oh whatever as if you're a king- Raggedy Andy looking- ah!" Sukuna is done with you then, he has a huge hand around your throat, as his other finds your soppy little cunt.

"I'm not raggedy andy, I'm a fucking demon," you're shaking your head again, but when he touches your clit with his rough fingers, you can't help but cry out. "Cunt is desperate, so slutty."

"You're really the doll!? I saged you! Oh fuck," he's rolling in circles now, his heavy cock looking more and more tempting - you weren't really gonna fuck your haunted doll were you!?!? "Ngh!"

"You just brought me out, hah - pathetic, looking at you with your stupid ass crystals, think they work on me?" He's shoved two thick ass fingers inside you now, you're rolling your eyes back, pulsing around them already.

"W-why don't you... just leave me alone... ah!" You're saying it as you're gushing down his fingers. "I was finally gonna cum - you haunted fucking chucky doll!"

"I'm not chucky or fucking anabelle!" He's furious then, pulling out his fingers and shoving them in your mouth, you're sucking on them without thinking, when he scowls at you. "I can't believe you lit me on fucking fire- oh and I'm claustrophobic by the way!? you mean ass little-"

"Don't you dare even! Fuck, could you just... get me off! It's your fault I never do! Maybe I wouldn't burn you or throw you in the pond if you were useful!'

"Useful, you're such a bitch.." you smack him again, just making him harder - it's been eighty years trapped in that stupid fucking vessel, and he's had to watch you naked for a year! He's far more needy thatn you.

"Don't call be that, fucking Robert the doll but even lamer!"

"You listen to too many much horror podcasts, oh and you know he wouldn't have got you off, yeah?"

"Like you can, you're a doll!"

"I'm a fucking demon, now shut up," he's yanked off your panties, shoving them in your mouth, when he leans down and brings your pussy right against his face. "I'll show you how to really cum, fucking insolent brat."

"Who the fuck says insolent- ancient ass- oh fuck," he's spreading your lips, eyeing your pretty cunt, he'd tell you it was pretty if you weren't always trying to destroy him or stuff him in boxes. But for now, he'll think it, drinking your cunt up and moaning as he ruts his cock against the matress. "Oh god! There, there, fuck!" You're tugging at his hair when he nips your clit, smacking your hands now, scowling with his bright red eyes. "Ow!"

"Don't tell me what to do, pathetic human, be thankful I'm letting you have this," he is so fucking pretentious for a doll you think to yourself, wishing you could toss him back into that trunk in the attic until he's sucking on your clit. "Mmm... should thank me."

You're gushing then, how can you not, his tongue swirling your clit, sucking it into his hot mouth, the little thing twitching as he vibrates it with his stupid demon mouth. You wonder if the doll actually killed you and you're in some weird limbo with it, maybe it dragged you to hell, but it feels so good you honestly go with it.

He's messy, sloppy and somehow precise as he drags your thighs closer, sucking up all your juices. You're writhing under him, closer and closer, while he devours your pussy so hungry, he won't tell you how good it tastes either, you're too much of a fucking brat for all that - you've given him PTSD from all the ways you've hurt him!!!

"Cum, now - whiny little brat..." You're screaming out before you can stop yourself, his tongue slipping up to collect all the juices that spill as you're yanking his hair again.

The orgasm hits far too good, you're making a mess and squirting on your - haunted doll's!?- face then, he grins, lapping it up, before leaning up and wrapping a tattooed hand around your throat. He spits right into your mouth after prying it open, you're choking as you swallow it, only for him to bend you in half, slamming his thick cock in as much as it can go.

"G-god... oh my... you're too big, fuck!" You're trying to back off, but he drags you back, smirking as he presses your thighs up, smushing them against your breasts and fucking deeper.

"Tired of listening to you every fucking day, bitchy and annoying, tired of you bringing losers - ah fuck you're tight - home. And tired of - mmm - you trying to get rid of me!"

"I'm - ah! - tired of - fuck, there!" You're done as he's fucking you so good then, you've never had dick like his, it's tearing you apart with each filthy fucking stroke. You're trying to scratch at his back when he pins your wrists down, pressing all his heavy weight on you.

"Shut you up - hah - fuck..." Your cunt is milking him, it's been a good hundred years since Sukuna has fucked anything, he would jerk off in his vessel but it wasn't the same! And he's wanted you too long, so he's trying to hold back for a moment as your gummy walls grip his veiny length.

"W-won't sage you if you... mnh, make me cum again - ah!" He's scowling now, fucking you harder, breaking you in half with his mean cock - you have to hope that he doesn't have some creepy fucking doll stds or something!?

"Haven't fucked in... a hundred years... gonna cum so much, in your slutty little fucking pussy - mine, not that fucking losers..." you feel a little relief, a hundred years he should be okay, but you're still half convinced you're dead or asleep anyway.

"Cum in me," he smirks then. "Oh stop it, just do it."

"Slut, fucking mean ass brat, fucking.... god your pussy..." he also thinks you're pretty, but you sure wouldn't hear that either!

Sukuna fucks you in that mating press, until he's got you cumming again, pulsing around him with your aftershocks, and he lets out a hundred fucking years of cum, white ropes busting in your pussy, bulging your tummy.

"So much what the- you're still cumming!?"

"Shut up, god... fuck..." He's losing it now, he almost kisses you, but instead he's spitting in your mouth again, moaning as he pulls back, watching his own cum being pushed out down his length.

"I'm like hallucinating or dead," you're whining out then, as he pulls back, cum spilling all over your bed, as he smirks, fingering it back into your hole. "I'm sore! It's been a year because of y-you!"

"Shut up, fucked ya good enough yeah?" You're just trembling now, as he pulls back, sighing and laying next to you, on one arm. "I require clothing."

"Aren't you going back to like being a creepy doll?"

"Tch, no, the sage released me, and now your sexual energy is feeding me," he's tugging you against him, frowning as he studies you. "You were so mean to me!"

"You were a haunted doll! And never let me get dick."

"Well obviously not," he's blushing now, and you can't help but giggle. "Do not laugh at me, mortal!"

"Oh sorry, I may have some old sweats or shirts from my ex, let me look." You hop up now, shaking your head when he tugs you back on his lap. "What is it?"

"I'm scared by myself, that's why I kept going to your room, and you just kept throwing me away," he's nuzzling your neck now, kind of sweet for a demonic possessed doll. "Don't do it again!"

"Okay fine, I won't. Now I feel bad!"

"You should!" He's sinking sharp teeth into your neck, fucking you again, as he has much to make up for, making sure to fuck all his frustrations out of his mistreatment!

This is silly LMAO

Perm tags 1- @alt--er--love @nanasukii28 @cuntphoric @loafteaw @n1vi @miizuzu @beachaddict48 @honeybunnnnie @re-tired-succubus @gojosukuna2268 @waterfal-ling @1brii @wise-fangirl @moncher-ire @orikixx @uhnosav @baepsays @designerpvssy @orixxxana @airandyeah @nina-from-317 @evelynxxo @naammiii @soyokosuguru @espresso1patronum @tomboy-disaster @iam-souless @lanii-i @cristy-101 @doeeyestoji @cvixmei @mutsu422 @ivyvenus333 @g00seg1rl @suki91 @satoblue @fairygardenprincesss @theonlyjuggernaut @huntyhuntycunty @lovelockdownff @ibreathesmut @s777athv @twinklywinkly @akiii143 @squeezyvalkyrie @cookielovesbook-akie @oinksa

[heartmix]

Private Screening - MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.4k+

Warning: Max being oblivious, mention of sad reader

Summary: You really wanted to go to the private screening of the F1 movie, but Max doesn't want to

A/N: messy and all over the place

F1 Masterlist / Masterlist

To say you loved movies was an understatement. At any free moment, there was bound to be a movie on. Which is why when they announced they were making a movie about F1 with the same director as Top Gun: Maverick, you were beyond excited. 

The chance to watch them film during the season and also meet the actors made you giddy. Your excitement was more than all the drivers combined, which was hardly any, considering they honestly couldn't have cared less about it. 

Max was one of those who wanted to stay away from the movie. If he had the chance to decline partaking in it, he would have dropped it in a heartbeat. Unfortunately for him, his job forced him, and even more so, you would not stop talking about it every time a promo dropped. 

"Do you think you guys will be invited to the premiere or a private screening?" You asked Max one day while watching yet another trailer drop. 

"If we do, I probably won't go," Max said, not even batting an eye. It was off-handed and you knew you shouldn't have made it a big deal, but deep inside, you were a little hurt. 

The next week, it seemed like everyone was talking about the private screening of the movie for everyone who worked in F1, even down to the engineers. Knowing Max would decline meant you wouldn't be able to go; you were sulking whenever the topic was brought up. 

"What's with the sad face?" Charles asked, seeing your face drop as he and Alexandra were talking about what they were wearing to the premiere next week. 

"You're coming right?" Alex inquired, seemingly knowing what was going on, but she wanted you to be the one to say it. 

"I wish. Max doesn't want to go, and Red Bull is giving him an out." The fact that your eyes didn't meet theirs, instead focusing on the drink in front of you, was a sign that it bothered you a lot. 

"Does he know how excited you are for it? I swear it's all you've been talking about last season." 

"He knows, but I don't think he declined the invite to hurt me. He saw an opportunity to get out of going and took it. I know I shouldn't be sad about it, but I'll get over it." 

"Come with us," Charles mentioned. 

"What?" Your eyes snapped up to his in disbelief, thinking he was playing around. Instead, you found a genuine smile. 

"Oh yes! You can hang out with me! It'll be so fun!" Alex exclaimed with a big smile plastered on her face. 

"Are you guys sure? I don't want to overstep." 

"Trust me. It'll be fine." Charles waved off your concern, not showing a hint of worry. 

Leading up to the premiere, you were super happy. No more the gloomy state you were in. Max noticed it, of course, he noticed mostly everything about you. He was curious about the sudden mood change, but didn't chalk it up to anything. Maybe it was just one of those weeks. If it were anything important, he would be the first one you told. 

He didn't ask about it until the night before the premiere. He was lounging on the bed with the cats while you were in the walk-in closet trying to find something to wear. Not like you were going to be photographed, but there might be a picture or two that would be circulated. This was a big deal to you, and you wanted to look as good as you were going to feel. 

"Schatje, are you almost done? I want to relax and I can't do that without you right here in my arms." He yelled out, borderline whining that you weren't in bed with him. 

"Yeah, just give me a few minutes." 

"The race isn't for a few more days, you don't need to look for an outfit right now. Plus, in case you didn't know, it's in the city we live in. No need to rush." He tried again, but to no avail, you didn't come to bed. 

"Not for the race bubs. It's for tomorrow." 

"Going out with the girls?" He wondered, thinking he had forgotten that you mentioned it to him. 

"Yeah, you can say that. Alex and Charles invited me to the F1 movie screening." Hearing that, he got off the bed and made his way to the closest, confused. Did he hear you right? 

"The what?" 

"Remember the private screening for the drivers and crew. Well, since you weren't going, Charles invited me." You shrugged, not making a big deal. It wasn't a big deal anymore, now that you were going. 

"Why didn't you tell me you wanted to go?" 

"Because you said you weren't going to go before I even had the chance. Even so, you know I've been excited for it, of course, I would want to go." You sighed, looking at him standing in the doorway. It was foolish to think he wouldn't find out, but you didn't know he would make something out of it. 

"I'm sorry, you get excited for practically every movie. I wasn't thinking." He frowned, pulling you into his arms. You knew he felt bad, but there was nothing to hold against him. 

"Don't stress it. I know you don't like media stuff, and you aren't that interested in the movie." 

"Let me take you tomorrow." At this, you chuckled at his sudden urge to wanting to go. He was doing this because he felt bad. You didn't want to force him to go if he really didn't want to, and you know he didn't. 

"Don't be silly. How often do they let you decline something work-related? Plus, I'm going with Charles and Alex." 

"I know you're excited for it, and that's all I need. I'm taking you." The comment came out more as a statement. It was final. He was going to take you no matter how hard you tried to convince him. 

"It's the night before, what are you going to tell the team?" 

"Im Max Verstappen, 4 time world champion. What are they going to do? Decline me?" He had that famous Max Verstappen smugness in his tone. One that would eat everyone up. 

"And your fans say you're humble." You rolled your eyes, and he couldn't help but chuckle. 

Like it was planned all along, you and Max were making your way up the steps of the theater. Cameras flashed from all around you, but you didn't care about any of that. The only thing you cared about was watching the movie. 

"Max! Looks like you made it!" You looked up to the Red Bull social media, Jessica already with a phone fired up in her hand. 

"I did." He said with a slight smile, his way of telling her it was okay to film. 

"Are you excited to see the movie?" She said, holding up the camera to get it all on record.

"My girls' excited about it, so that means I am too." At this comment, you could feel the heat rise to your face, and you tried to look anywhere but the camera. You felt Max's eyes peering down at you, and from he corner of your eyes, you saw Jessica smirking while filming you. Whether it was the bluntness of Max or the numbers it will do on social media, she loved the comment either way. 

"We are glad to have you both." She smiled before ending the video and putting her phone down, thanking you both for the content. 

"Well, well, well, look who decided to show up." Charles' voice came in right from behind you guys with Alex on his arm. 

"Did she tell you about the situation?" Max groaned, not liking Charles' smug look. 

"I knew, I just got the confession out of her." Alex shrugged like it was nothing. 

"Well, all that matters is I'm going to have the chance to see the movie a whole month early. Speaking of you guys should hurry up and do press so we can get to the actual movie." You pushed the two drivers away in the direction of where the rest of them were. 

"You practically begged me to come, now you're getting rid of me?" Max couldn't help but tease. 

With a raised eyebrow, you looked at him in disbelief, "If I remember correctly, you begged me to let you take me." 

"Same thing." 

"Will you just go? I'll meet you inside." Rolling your eyes yet again, this pulled a laugh out of him.  

"Save me a seat?" 

"Least I could do." You smiled before he pulled you in for a kiss. 

[enhani-ki]

enhypen as your "stressed" boss

warnings: very suggestive content, cursing, etc.

when your job is suppose to make your boss' life easier but he gets hard to you instead...

HEESEUNG ─── ★

"do me a favor?" heeseung asked, lifting his necktie between two fingers like it was a dead thing. "fix this again… i swear these things come alive at night."

you exhaled slowly, not even dignifying that with a response. he didn't even bother standing up. he just stayed leaned back in his chair like he was doing you a favor by being seated.

heeseung's legs were spread open just enough for you to stand between them. his shirt sleeves were rolled up, the two buttons were left undone... it's enough to draw eyes, or maybe just to suggest something.

apparently, none of his past secretaries ever lasted more than two months. some said they quit, others claimed they were transferred, and according to office gossip, he couldn't even make it through the first week without anyone crossing a lineーyou could see why.

people believed what they wanted, but you've been working for him over a year now and had never actually fucked your boss like everyone said you had.

though, sometimes… you kind of wish the rumors were true.

your fingers started moving automatically. you looped the fabric, tightened the knot, and smoothed his collar… you could probably do this in your sleep by now.

"don't look so serious," he murmured with a soft chuckle. "pretend you love doing this for me."

you glanced at the guy who was already looking up at you. "love is a strong word, boss," you muttered before resting your hands on his shoulders, "but i ca—"

the door swung open suddenly, making both of you jump in surprise. the intern's eyes went wide, stammering, "i—i—i'll just come back!" like they just walked in on a porn set, before slamming the door shut.

you stepped back instantly, running a hand down your face with a sigh. "great. that's gonna be all over the building before lunch," you said, making him chuckle again.

"heeseung," you said sternly. he actually preferred it when you used his name like that—just casual and familiar, even if you only say it when it was just the two of you. "you really need to learn how to tie your own damn tie."

he whined, "i don't want toooo."

JAY ─── ★

you're sitting on the edge of his bed, legs swinging slightly, doing everything in your power not to look anywhere inappropriate while your boss buckled his belt in front of you.

this was the third time this week that jay had been late to work. he kept oversleeping, ignoring calls, blaming traffic and accidents that never even happened.

you've seen this version of him before, back when he lost all his motivation and nearly quit. this time, you weren't letting it get that far.

you let yourself into his apartment, pushed open the heavy blackout curtains, dragged him half-asleep out of bed, and make sure he gets to office in time.

"thanks for coming to get me," he muttered. his voice was still raspy from sleep, running a hand through his messy hair. "my alarm's been… off lately."

you reached for a pillow without thinking. you hugged it tightly to your chest, burying your face in the soft fabric, trying to hide the heat creeping up your cheeks.

jay smirked, catching the way you refused to look at him before shamelessly staring at your bare legs that's still swinging awkwardly above his floor. "you always get this shy?" he laughed, tugging the tank top down over his torso with a little stretch.

"just fucking hurry!" you muttered angrily into the pillow.

he chuckled again, shaking his head at his cute assistant while grabbing his keys from the nightstand. "you can wait in the living room next time if you don't want to see me naked again."

you peeked, "and let you fall back asleep? no way."

JAKE ─── ★

jake has been side eyeing you. he cleared his throat butー "don't even say it," you muttered before he could even speak.

he crossed his arms, eyebrows raising. "say what?"

"that you need another coffee... i know i'm your assistant but honestly, you look like shit."

"oh, wow..." his mouth fell open, amused. "you always look sexy whenever you scold me, you know that?"

"yes."

he blinked, taken aback by your bluntness—then snorted, shaking his head with a grin as he leaned back in his chair. "...then be careful. i'm ten seconds away from dragging your ass over here."

you rolled your eyes, unfazed. "you say that like it's a threat."

jake spun slowly in his chair, eyeing you with a grin before biting his lip. "come here... let me touch something that doesn't make me want to scream."

SUNGHOON ─── ★

you knocked once before stepping in, sunghoon didn't even look up. he was seating behind his desk, sleeves rolled up, tie already discarded somewhere across the room. his hair is a mess from running his hands through it too many times.

he looked pissed. "about the meeting..." you started carefully, "i already sent the corrected draft."

"okay..." he replied, eyes still locked on his screen. "i think i'm going to have a fucking aneurysm."

you hesitated. "…are you?"

sunghoon looked at you like, seriously? before smirking, "depends. are you planning on doing that thing again...?"

you smiled a little. "depends. are you going to give me a few vacation leaves after?"

sunghoon leaned back in his chair, finally letting out a breath. "yes. and i'm going with you too."

you raised a brow. "oh? as my boss?"

"no... as someone even worse, baby."

SUNOO ─── ★

sunoo was laying across the couch, resting his head perfectly in your lap while wearing a soft, hydrating face mask on his face.

his hand traced circles on your knees while you ran your fingers through his soft hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp. "you're too good at this..." sunoo murmured. "you trying to make me lose my mind?"

“i thought you already lost it?"

he smiled faintly. "which one do you think's doing it? the scalp massage or your attention?"

you chuckled, "which one do you like more?"

"hmm…" he hummed again, giving your knee a playful squeeze. "both. mostly your attention." he was about to close his eye but then he suddenly raised his brow, lips quirking. "why do you always touch your boss like this when you're off the clock though??"

"are you okay? you're the one on my lap."

sunoo smiled, closing his eyes. "sorry but you can't report me at my own house," he teased, then continued, "i can say whatever i want."

your hand slid in his chest. "i might start saying things back." you said, making sunoo sat up without any warning, signature eye smile started dropping through his ridiculous face mask.

"start talking."

JUNGWON ─── ★

"what are you looking at?" jungwon said without even turning his head as he could feel your eyes on him.

he hasn't spoke much since he walked in. he just buried himself behind his screen. you blinked, looking down at your desk like you hadn't been caught staring. "no—nothing."

he sighed through his nose before loosening his tie.

truth was, he hadn't been able to focus for the past hour because of you. and the way you bit your pen while choosing from the series of his pictures, making his brain short-circuit.

he really was trying to be good today.

you stood and walked over, leaning slightly over his desk to drop off a file. jungwon's fist clenched lightly on the desk as his eyes lowered right to the edge of the table, where your hip was angled just slightly in his direction. oh, it'd be so easy if you just drop to your knees now—

you tilted your head. "boss... you okay?"

he nodded eagerly. "yeah. yeah—just stressed." he said before looking up at you again, looking so innocent even though his tongue was pressing into his cheek, legs bouncing uncontrollably under the desk.

"...it's making me think of things i probably shouldn't about my assistant."

you blinked, confused. "whaーwhat?"

jungwon cleared his throat and quickly looked away, cheeks growing faint pink in embarrassment. "ignore that. i didn't say anything."

he avoided your eyes, rubbing the back of his neck... feeling how tight his pants suddenly felt.

NI-KI ─── ★

you tapped your foot impatiently as ni-ki walked past you in nothing but a towel and toothbrush hanging from his lips.

he pointed vaguely toward the bathroom, eyes half-lidded, and mumbling something incoherent before disappearing behind the door.

you checked the time as thirty minutes passed. why the fuck he was moving like a sloth?

"ni-ki?" you called, knocking on the bathroom door but there's no answer. you frowned before pushing it open, and just as you suspected, he's not there. the shower hasn't even been turned on.

"ni-ki!" you stormed into his bedroom—only to find him curled up on his bed, hugging his pillow like a baby. ni-ki groaned, cracking one eye open. "ughh, the fuck you so loud for?"

you marched over and shook his body, "we're gonna be late!"

and instead of getting up, he just reached out and pulled you into the bed like a goddamn trap. he locked you in his arms and buried his face into your neck. "let me borrow you real quick," he mumbled, his breath felt warm against your skin.

"ni-kiー" you struggled, squirming in his hold.

"shhh," he shushed you, tightening his grip with a little smirk, "you keep calling my name like that, i'll make sure you'll moan it out the next."

a/n: random ahh fic. posted this with round with my baby - reader x ni-ki

similar: ENHYPEN AS YOUR "HOMEBOYS"

masterlist: マスターリストm.list

[mcrdvcks]

— it's brutal out here

chapter summary: Peter's class is going on a field trip to Stark Industries. The catch? No one believes he's an intern at SI and no one knows he's dating Tony Stark's daughter—other than Ned and MJ. Surely nothing will go wrong, right? word count: 14.7k+ pairing: Peter Parker (MCU) x fem!stark!reader notes: i've said it before, peter parker goes on field trip to SI is one of my favorite tropes ever. but what else is? reader being tony stark's daughter and dating peter. so i thought i'd combine both for the ultimate self-service. it's my first time writing for peter, so feedback is appreciated. enjoy! <3 warnings/tags: avengers are a happy family because i say so (includes bucky!), fluff, peter parker goes on a field trip to stark industries, tony is your biological dad, pranks, slight bullying, reader is a genius (she's a stark after all)

“Alright, before the bell rings I have something important to say!” Mr. Harrington announced, stopping most of the students from packing up.

“I swear, if it’s another—” Peter mumbled before Ned cut in.

“Dude, what if it’s a parental consent form for a movie? Or an experiment? Or—”

"—Or it's just Harrington being overdramatic. Again," MJ added in dryly, not looking away from her book.

Peter snorted softly, shaking his head. "Yeah, you're probably right."

Mr. Harrington cleared his throat dramatically again, pushing his glasses back up his nose as he lifted a stack of papers from his desk. "We will be taking a field trip next week, and it's not just any field trip."

"Oh no," MJ deadpanned, flipping another page of her book, "his voice cracked. That means it's big."

Peter chuckled quietly, looking at Ned with an amused smirk. "Ten bucks it's another 'groundbreaking' planetarium exhibit."

Ned shook his head quickly, grinning. "I'm holding out for something good this time, man."

Mr. Harrington began passing out the papers excitedly. "Next Friday, this class will be touring none other than Stark Industries!"

The room erupted in surprised chatter, excited whispers filling every corner.

Peter froze, eyes wide. "Wait—what?"

Ned's mouth fell open, equally shocked. "No freaking way!"

MJ lifted her gaze from the page for the first time, eyebrows raised as she leaned slightly toward Peter. "I take it back. This actually is big."

"Not again," Peter muttered anxiously, voice strained. "The tower? Seriously?"

"What's the problem, Pete?" Flash's voice rang out smugly from across the room. "Afraid they'll realize you're not actually an intern?"

Peter frowned, shooting Flash a glare. "I am an intern. I've been telling you guys this for literally two years."

Flash scoffed loudly. "Yeah, sure, Parker. And I'm Thor's favorite chess partner."

"Dude," Ned whispered urgently, "this means the whole class is gonna see you with—"

Peter nodded nervously, his voice hushed. "—Y/N. They're going to see me with Y/N."

MJ leaned in slightly, giving Peter a knowing look. "You're worried they'll find out you're dating Tony Stark's daughter?"

Peter's cheeks flushed pink. "I'm not worried, I just... it's gonna be weird."

"You've literally fought aliens, and you're worried about your classmates finding out you have a girlfriend?" MJ remarked flatly.

"It's not just any girlfriend!" Ned argued, waving his hands excitedly, "It's Y/N freaking Stark, MJ! The Y/N Stark!"

MJ rolled her eyes slightly, suppressing a smile as she glanced back at Peter. "So what, you two just gonna pretend you don't know each other?"

Peter hesitated, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "I... haven't exactly figured that out yet."

Across the room, Flash continued loudly boasting, "Maybe I'll even get to talk with Tony Stark himself. I've got some great ideas I wanna pitch him."

"Oh, yeah, great," Peter mumbled under his breath sarcastically, "that'll go well."

Mr. Harrington clapped his hands to regain everyone's attention. "Make sure you have these permission slips signed and returned by tomorrow. This is a rare and exciting opportunity, people!"

Peter slumped slightly in his seat, sighing heavily as Ned gave him a reassuring pat on the back.

"Relax, man," Ned said confidently. "It's gonna be fine."

MJ shrugged, eyes back on her book. "Or it'll be an entertaining disaster. Either way, I'm looking forward to it."

"Gee, thanks," Peter muttered, giving MJ a pointed look.

She simply smirked without looking up. "Anytime."

Peter stared down at the permission slip in front of him, anxiety swirling through his chest. Next Friday was going to be interesting, to say the least.

---

“—but, there was always… Y/N? Hey. Hey!” Steve snapped his fingers as you slowly looked up.

"Huh? Sorry, I fell asleep to your boring recollection of the battle of… whatever," you said, leaning back in your chair dramatically with a loud yawn.

Steve crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow as he stared at you. "Y/N, we've literally been covering World War II for months. It's the battle of Normandy."

"Oh, right." You sat up again, blinking sleepily at him. "You know, Steve, when Dad said you'd be teaching me history, I figured we'd cover a little more than just your glory days."

Bucky snorted from his spot on the couch, not even bothering to hide his grin. "See, Steve? Told you even your own niece would get tired of hearing your stories eventually."

Steve shot Bucky an annoyed look. "Not helping, Buck."

You laughed lightly, swiveling your chair toward Bucky. "Honestly, Barnes, your lessons are more interesting. At least when you teach, I get to hear the real stories, not the G-rated, Captain America-approved versions."

Bucky smirked proudly, leaning back comfortably. "That's because I tell you all the gritty details your dad specifically said you shouldn’t hear."

Steve sighed heavily, shaking his head. "You're both impossible."

"And yet," you shrugged innocently, reaching for your phone on the desk, "you still insist on teaching me."

"Because," Steve began firmly, taking a step forward and pointing toward your textbook, "you still need to actually learn this stuff."

Bucky chuckled softly. "Yeah, kiddo, just pretend to pay attention for a couple hours so Steve doesn’t cry himself to sleep tonight."

You bit back a smile, dramatically nodding at Steve. "Alright, alright. Battle of Normandy, June 1944. Got it. Continue, Uncle Steve."

Steve narrowed his eyes suspiciously at you, slowly returning to his spot by the whiteboard. "Right. So as I was saying—"

Your phone buzzed suddenly, and your attention immediately snapped down to it. Peter’s name lit up your screen, making your heart flutter as you quickly picked it up.

"Hold that thought, Steve," you said distractedly, swiping open the message.

Steve paused, arms crossed again with an exasperated sigh. "You're texting Peter again, aren’t you?"

You gave him a guilty smile, fingers flying rapidly over your screen. "Sorry, but it's important."

Bucky raised an eyebrow curiously, leaning toward you. "What's got Parker worked up this time?"

You bit your lip, chuckling softly as you finished your reply. "Apparently, his class is taking a field trip to Stark Industries next week."

Bucky laughed, leaning further forward. "Oh boy, Pete must be freaking out."

"He absolutely is," you confirmed, still texting quickly. "He's worried everyone will figure out we're dating. And, you know, that he's actually an intern there."

Steve looked thoughtful. "Peter's classmates still don't believe him?"

"Nope," you shook your head, grinning slightly. "They all think he's making it up."

Bucky chuckled again. "Poor kid."

Steve tilted his head curiously. "What’s the plan, then? Are you two just going to ignore each other?"

You sighed, setting your phone back down on the desk as you looked at Steve seriously. "Honestly? I have no idea. Peter’s a little nervous."

Bucky gave you a playful smirk. "Well, it's about time the kid stepped up. I mean, he's Spider-Man, he can handle a few high school kids."

Steve nodded in agreement. "Buck's right. Peter’s faced much worse. A field trip can't be that scary."

You smiled slightly, glancing back down at your phone as Peter's next text popped up. "You'd be surprised."

Bucky leaned back again, smirking knowingly. "You’re both being way too dramatic. I say just act normal. Who cares if people find out? You've been dating for a year."

"That's what MJ said," you replied thoughtfully. "Maybe I should just show up and embarrass him."

Steve chuckled softly, shaking his head. "That's your father's influence talking."

You flashed a grin, leaning forward eagerly. "Speaking of Dad—"

"Nope," Steve interrupted quickly, pointing at the textbook. "Lesson first, gossip later."

You groaned dramatically, slumping back again. "Fine."

Steve turned back toward the whiteboard again, writing quickly as he resumed. "Alright, moving on. Now, the invasion began in the early hours—"

"Wait!" you suddenly interrupted, lifting your hand in the air.

Steve turned back again, eyes narrowed. "What now?"

You smiled sweetly, fluttering your lashes playfully. "Can I bring Peter lunch when his class comes next Friday? Like, surprise him?"

Bucky nodded approvingly, clearly entertained by the idea. "I think that's an excellent plan."

Steve gave you both a stern look, though you could see amusement hiding behind his eyes. "That's something you should ask your mom or dad."

You pouted dramatically. "But you're my favorite uncle, Steve."

"Hey!" Bucky protested loudly, placing a hand over his heart with mock hurt. "I thought I was your favorite uncle!"

Steve chuckled, crossing his arms. "Nice try, Y/N, but I'm still not falling for it."

You grinned cheekily, shrugging your shoulders lightly. "Worth a shot."

Bucky smirked, giving you an amused nod. "I'll talk to your dad for you. I'm always up for helping embarrass the kid."

You beamed at him. "I knew you were my favorite."

Steve groaned quietly, shaking his head again. "Alright, enough distractions. Back to Normandy."

You sighed dramatically again, leaning your chin on your palm with a small smile. "Alright, Uncle Steve. Back to Normandy."

Bucky chuckled, giving Steve a playful smirk. "Better make this interesting, pal, or else she's definitely texting Parker again."

Steve rolled his eyes, finally giving up and laughing softly. "You two are going to be the death of me."

You smiled innocently, eyes sparkling with amusement. "We know. But you still love us anyway."

Steve smiled softly, his voice warm as he nodded slowly. "Yeah, I suppose I do."

---

"Uncle Bruce? Have I ever told you that you're my favorite teacher?" you asked sweetly, giving him your most convincing smile as you leaned eagerly across the lab table.

Bruce raised an eyebrow, his glasses sliding down his nose as he peered skeptically over them. "Ah, yes, Y/N. I believe you mentioned that just last week when you wanted help avoiding Steve's history lesson."

You laughed softly, shrugging innocently. "Well, this time I really, really mean it."

Bruce chuckled, shaking his head lightly as he placed down the tablet he'd been holding. "Alright, what's going on?"

You sighed dramatically, propping your chin in your palm. "Peter's class is coming here next Friday for a field trip."

Bruce looked thoughtful, nodding slowly. "Ah, that's right. Tony mentioned something about that."

You perked up immediately, sitting straighter. "Dad talked about it?"

"Well, mostly just to warn everyone," Bruce said with an amused smile, taking a seat across from you. "Something about trying not to embarrass Peter too much."

You groaned, dropping your head onto your folded arms. "Ugh, I know! He keeps saying we should just act normal, but—"

Bruce tilted his head curiously, smiling warmly. "But you're worried about embarrassing him?"

"Or maybe myself," you admitted sheepishly, peeking up at Bruce through your fingers. "I don't know. The whole class will be here, and they don't even believe Peter actually interns here. Let alone that we're dating."

Bruce chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair comfortably. "Teenagers can be brutal, huh?"

“Exactly!” You agreed. “Uh, wait, actually I don’t know. The only experience I have is Peter telling me about classes and Mean Girls. Do girls really make Burn Books?”

Bruce chuckled, shaking his head lightly. "I think that's more Hollywood drama than reality, Y/N. At least, I hope so."

You sat up a little straighter, eyes wide with genuine curiosity. "See, that's exactly why I'm worried! I'm totally clueless about how high school works outside of movie clichés and Peter's crazy stories."

Bruce gave you a reassuring smile. "You’re smart, Y/N. I'm sure you'll navigate it just fine. Plus, you've got Peter. He's probably more nervous than you are."

You sighed dramatically, sinking down slightly in your seat. "Yeah, he's pretty worried. I keep telling him it'll be fine, but deep down, I'm just as nervous."

Bruce tilted his head thoughtfully. "Why don't you just be yourself? Your relationship with Peter isn't a secret among the Avengers. You've got nothing to hide."

"But it's different," you argued, fiddling nervously with a pen on the table. "I mean, it's one thing for the team to know. But an entire class of high schoolers? That’s scary."

Bruce chuckled softly, adjusting his glasses again. "Trust me, most of them will probably be too busy being star-struck by Stark Industries to notice much else."

You gave a half-smile, eyes flicking up to meet Bruce’s. "You really think so?"

He nodded reassuringly. "Absolutely. Teenagers aren’t all that complicated—most of them are too wrapped up in their own worlds to pay close attention."

You exhaled softly, leaning back with a little more ease. "I guess you're right."

Bruce smiled warmly. "Of course I am."

You smiled sheepishly, biting your lip in thought before glancing up again. "Do you think it’d be weird if I just... showed up? You know, say hi, maybe give Peter lunch, see how he’s doing?"

Bruce grinned knowingly, leaning forward slightly with amusement in his eyes. "I think that sounds very sweet. Peter would appreciate it, even if he’s embarrassed at first."

You laughed lightly, your face brightening with relief. "Yeah, well, a little embarrassment never killed anyone, right?"

Bruce chuckled again, shaking his head. "Definitely not. And, frankly, you might actually enjoy it."

You smirked mischievously. "Maybe just a little."

He leaned back again, crossing his arms over his chest comfortably. "Just be prepared for some teasing from Tony afterward."

You groaned playfully, rolling your eyes dramatically. "Ugh, Dad's already been dropping hints. Like, ‘don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’ Which isn't comforting at all, considering it's Dad."

Bruce laughed, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I think Tony’s probably the worst person to go to for dating advice."

"Tell me about it," you muttered dryly, smiling fondly. "Mom tried to give him a crash course on subtlety the other day. It went about as well as you'd expect."

Bruce grinned warmly. "Your mom is a saint for even trying."

You chuckled, nodding enthusiastically. "I know, right?"

Bruce paused thoughtfully, giving you a gentle look. "Seriously, Y/N, don't overthink it. Peter cares about you. His classmates might be surprised at first, but they'll get used to it quickly. Trust your instincts."

Your smile softened, comforted by his sincerity. "Thanks, Uncle Bruce. I needed to hear that."

He smiled back softly. "Anytime. Now, do you still want to help me with these calculations or are you too busy plotting your field trip takeover?"

You laughed, rolling your eyes slightly. "I think I've done enough plotting for one day."

Bruce chuckled warmly, pushing the tablet toward you gently. "Alright then. Let's get back to work."

You nodded eagerly, reaching for the tablet with newfound confidence. "Right. Work first, world domination later."

Bruce grinned playfully, shaking his head. "You've definitely spent way too much time around your father."

You smirked mischievously, eyes sparkling. "Guilty as charged."

He sighed in mock despair, though his eyes shone with affection. "The world isn't ready for two Stark geniuses."

"Probably not," you replied with a dramatic sigh, then flashed a bright smile. "But that's their problem."

Bruce laughed heartily, pushing his glasses back up his nose again. "Yeah, it definitely is."

You smiled warmly, picking up your stylus and focusing back on the calculations. Bruce was right, after all—you had Peter, and you knew that was what really mattered.

---

During lunch, you sat in the common kitchen eating a sandwich. Your phone was propped up against your water bottle as you pretended to watch it while in reality, it was filming.

You had set up a prank in your head while Steve went on about whatever battle he was talking about, and while making lunch, you put your idea into action. Now, you just had to wait for Sam and Clint to get back from going over the training room schedules.

A few minutes later, you heard familiar footsteps and quickly sat up straighter, looking innocent as you pretended to watch your phone. Sam and Clint walked into the kitchen, mid-conversation.

"All I'm sayin' is, why do you get first dibs on Wednesdays?" Clint complained, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. "Maybe I like to train mid-week too."

Sam raised an eyebrow at Clint as he opened the pantry. "Because, Barton, last time I gave you Wednesday, you used your slot to watch reruns of 'Golden Girls.'"

"Hey," Clint pointed defensively, "those ladies are legends, and you know it."

You bit your lip to suppress a giggle, silently pressing record on your phone. "Sounds intense, guys," you teased, making sure you sounded nonchalant.

Clint looked over at you, shaking his head with a grin. "You have no idea, kid."

Sam smiled at you warmly as he grabbed some chips. "How was your lesson with Steve?"

You sighed dramatically, rolling your eyes. "He spent two hours telling me about the Battle of Normandy. Again."

Clint groaned sympathetically. "Oof, you okay? Need medical assistance?"

You laughed lightly, waving your sandwich at him. "I survived, thanks. Barely."

Sam chuckled softly, shaking his head as he started to walk towards the cabinet to grab a bowl. You held your breath, waiting eagerly for what would happen next.

Right on cue, the cabinet doors flew open, and a burst of confetti exploded outward, showering Sam and Clint in bright, glittery colors.

Sam jumped back with a yelp, dropping the bag of chips. "What the hell—"

Clint let out a high-pitched, startled squeak, nearly tripping over his own feet as he stumbled away from the sparkling confetti shower. "Holy—"

You burst out laughing, unable to hold it back anymore, tears forming at the corners of your eyes as you captured their shocked, glitter-covered expressions on camera. "Oh my god, your faces!"

Sam turned slowly, still blinking confetti out of his eyes. He shook his head, pointing at you accusingly. "You are evil, Y/N Stark."

Clint brushed glitter from his hair, eyes wide in disbelief. "Seriously, kid? Glitter?"

You shrugged innocently, giggling uncontrollably. "Well, technically it's biodegradable confetti, but yeah."

"I don't even wanna know how you pulled that off," Sam muttered, shaking confetti off his shoulders with an annoyed expression. "Did Tony help you with this?"

You grinned mischievously. "Nope. All me. Consider it payback for your air horn prank last week."

Sam groaned dramatically, looking up at the ceiling. "Oh, c'mon, that wasn't even my best work!"

Clint was still laughing softly, brushing sparkles from his sleeve. "She got you good, Wilson."

Sam scoffed, pointing at Clint's glitter-covered shirt. "You don't exactly look untouched yourself, Barton."

You giggled again, ending your recording as you spun around happily in your seat. "This footage is gonna look amazing at the next family movie night."

Clint narrowed his eyes playfully at you. "You're lucky we love you, kid."

"Seriously," Sam agreed, finally breaking into a smile. "I oughta put glitter in your training gear."

You gasped dramatically, placing a hand over your heart. "Sam, you wouldn't."

Clint grinned evilly, leaning over and whispering conspiratorially, "Don't give him ideas, kid."

You smirked playfully, standing up and putting your plate in the sink. "I'll be ready. Bring it on."

Sam shook his head, chuckling softly as he grabbed another bowl, cautiously opening another cabinet. "At least let me have lunch without another attack."

You held your hands up innocently, giving him your sweetest smile. "I'm out of glitter bombs. For now."

"Why do I not believe you?" Clint asked skeptically, side-eyeing you as he finally sat at the table with his water bottle.

"Because you're smart," you teased, winking at him as you started walking toward the kitchen door. "Better watch your backs!"

---

“Can’t you teach me Latin instead? Latin is cool,” you said to Natasha, leaning your elbows on the kitchen island dramatically. “You promised you would when you pretended to be Dad’s assistant. Or… whatever happened.”

Natasha sighed, rolling her eyes affectionately as she set down her mug of tea. “Y/N, for the last time—I was undercover, not just pretending. And I distinctly remember saying maybe. Besides, you're already learning Russian.”

You waved your hand dismissively. “Da, da, ya znayu. Yes, yes, I know. Russian is fine, but I think Latin would be more fun.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, folding her arms and giving you a skeptical look. “Fun? Y/N, Latin is literally a dead language.”

“Exactly!” You pointed at her excitedly. “Dead languages are cool, Natasha. Think of how impressive it’ll sound when I can insult Clint without him even knowing it.”

Clint turned his head quickly from his spot across the kitchen, eyes narrowed. “Excuse me, Stark Junior?”

You grinned sweetly, fluttering your eyelashes innocently. “Nothing, Uncle Clint. Love you!”

Clint narrowed his eyes suspiciously, slowly returning his attention to his sandwich. “Yeah, sure you do.”

Natasha chuckled softly, shaking her head as she returned her focus to you. “Look, Y/N, as entertaining as it sounds, Russian is actually useful. Latin—not so much.”

“Useful?” You scoffed playfully, leaning back slightly on your stool. “Nat, I already speak fluent Spanish and Chinese. I literally don’t need Russian. Did you know Chinese is gonna be the most spoken language by 2050? So, really, teaching me Latin would at least be interesting.”

Natasha tilted her head, looking mildly impressed despite herself. “You’ve really done your research on this, haven’t you?”

You nodded enthusiastically, smiling confidently. “See? Genius. I rest my case.”

Bruce chuckled softly from across the room, glancing up from his own notes. “She’s got you there, Natasha. You might want to reconsider.”

Natasha shot Bruce an amused glare before sighing softly, shoulders slumping slightly in resignation. “You really won’t let this go, will you?”

“Absolutely not,” you replied immediately, beaming brightly.

She shook her head again, giving you a reluctant smile. “Fine. How about this? You ace your Russian exam next week, and I’ll teach you some Latin. Deal?”

You perked up immediately, eyes sparkling. “Deal! Wait—exam? Since when do we have exams?”

Natasha smirked knowingly, sipping her tea calmly. “Since right now.”

You groaned loudly, slumping forward dramatically. “Ugh, betrayal.”

She laughed lightly, reaching over and ruffling your hair affectionately. “You’ll survive. Now, stop complaining and study. Latin’s waiting for you.”

You grumbled softly under your breath, sitting up straighter and nodding reluctantly. “Fine. But when I ace it, you better be prepared to teach me every Latin insult known to mankind.”

She rolled her eyes, lips quirking up slightly. “I’ll do my best.”

“Thank you,” you smiled brightly again, grabbing your notes dramatically off the counter. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an exam to crush.”

As you hopped off your stool, Clint gave you a teasing grin. “Hey, when you learn all those insults, teach me a few so I can use them on Stark, yeah?”

You smirked mischievously at him, giving a playful wink. “Oh, definitely.”

Bruce chuckled softly again, shaking his head fondly. “I think you two underestimate Tony’s ability to insult in any language.”

Natasha smiled knowingly, eyes glinting with amusement as she watched you head toward the elevator. “He does have an impressive vocabulary.”

Clint sighed dramatically, finishing off his sandwich. “Great. Looks like I’ll have to learn Latin too, just to keep up.”

You grinned from the elevator, waving your notes cheerfully at him. “Don’t worry, Clint! I’ll give you a discount on lessons!”

The elevator doors closed on Clint’s amused laughter and Natasha’s fond shake of her head. You leaned back against the wall, flipping through your Russian notes with renewed determination. The promise of Latin—and a wealth of creative insults—awaited.

---

You were in your lab going over your Russian notes when Peter entered, backpack slung over one shoulder. You looked up from the tablet immediately, giving him a bright smile. "Hey, you made it!"

Peter chuckled softly as he dropped his backpack by the door, coming over to lean against your lab table. "Yeah, finally. Subway was packed, and some guy spilled coffee all over my shoes. So, great afternoon."

You bit your lip sympathetically, glancing down at his slightly stained sneakers. "Aw, Pete. I'll clean them up for you later."

He smiled gratefully, looking down at your notes curiously. "Is this Russian? I thought Natasha already said you're fluent."

"I am," you sighed dramatically, leaning your head back against the chair. "But apparently Nat thinks my Russian still needs work. Something about ‘too much slang’ and ‘not enough proper grammar.’"

Peter laughed lightly, shaking his head. "Well, she's probably right."

"Not helping," you muttered playfully, poking his side with your stylus. "I'm bribing Nat with my language prowess so she'll finally teach me Latin."

"Latin?" Peter asked with surprise, lifting his brows. "Why?"

You gave him a cheeky grin, eyes sparkling mischievously. "So I can insult Clint without him understanding me, obviously."

Peter laughed again, leaning a little closer. "I thought Clint was pretty used to insults by now."

"Yeah," you agreed with a grin, nudging his shoulder gently. "But I bet he doesn't know many in Latin."

Peter smiled warmly at you, his eyes softening as he watched you continue scribbling notes. After a moment, you noticed him staring and tilted your head curiously.

"Everything okay?" you asked softly, reaching out and gently touching his hand.

Peter nodded, a faint blush tinting his cheeks. "Yeah, it's just—I guess I'm still a little nervous about the field trip next Friday."

You softened immediately, putting your notes aside and squeezing his hand reassuringly. "Pete, it's gonna be fine. I promise."

He sighed anxiously, running a hand through his messy curls. "Yeah, I know. It's just weird, you know? Flash was giving me crap again today, and everyone else just thinks I'm lying about my internship."

You frowned slightly, reaching out and tugging Peter gently towards you until he moved around to sit on the stool beside yours. "Well, Flash is an idiot. And honestly? Who cares what everyone thinks? You're amazing, Peter. Let them doubt. Next week, you'll prove them all wrong."

Peter smiled softly, relaxing slightly as he met your reassuring gaze. "Thanks, Y/N. You're the best."

"Obviously," you teased lightly, nudging his arm again with a playful smile. "But, um, speaking of next week—I sort of had an idea."

He lifted a brow, his expression wary but amused. "Should I be scared?"

You laughed, shaking your head quickly. "No, I promise! Nothing embarrassing—well, maybe slightly embarrassing—but in a cute, sweet, romantic kind of way."

Peter chuckled quietly, rolling his eyes with affection. "That doesn't exactly make me feel better."

You grinned sheepishly, leaning closer to him excitedly. "What if I brought you lunch? Like, showed up during your tour, surprised you in front of your class?"

Peter stared at you, eyes wide with mild panic. "Wait, Y/N, I—I mean—"

You bit your lip softly, suddenly nervous. "Unless that's too much. We don't have to. I just thought it'd be nice—"

"No!" Peter quickly interrupted, placing a gentle hand on your arm, voice softening immediately. "No, Y/N. I like the idea. I really do."

You raised your eyebrows skeptically, watching him closely. "Are you sure? You kind of look like you just swallowed a spider."

He made a face at the analogy, chuckling nervously. "It's just—you know, people are gonna freak out. And Flash is definitely gonna say something stupid."

You smirked, eyes sparkling mischievously. "Oh, I hope he does. Then I can watch him shrivel under the power of my infamous Stark glare."

Peter laughed softly, visibly relaxing now as he shook his head with amusement. "You really have spent too much time around Tony."

You flashed a proud grin. "Can't help it. Stark genes."

He smiled warmly at you, eyes lingering fondly as he squeezed your hand gently. "But seriously, Y/N. I'd love for you to stop by. And screw whatever Flash thinks."

You grinned happily, excitement bubbling up in your chest as you leaned forward, pressing a quick, affectionate kiss to his lips. "It's a date, then."

Peter smiled shyly, cheeks turning bright pink as he squeezed your hand tighter. "Yeah, definitely."

Just then, footsteps echoed in the hallway, and you both turned toward the door as Tony strode in, a pizza box balanced in one hand, and the other covering his eyes.

“I’m giving you 15 seconds to get situated from whatever teenage shenanigans you two were up to. I better not see any clothing articles on the floor—”

"Dad!" you groaned loudly, cheeks immediately flushing. You quickly jumped away from Peter, nearly stumbling off your stool in embarrassment as you hurriedly fixed your hair. "We were literally just talking!"

Peter awkwardly cleared his throat, face equally flushed as he stared down at the floor, nervously scratching the back of his neck. "Uh, hi, Mr. Stark."

Tony finally lowered his hand from his eyes, giving both of you a deeply amused look as he walked further into the lab. "Relax, kiddos. Just making sure. Can't be too careful, what with teenagers being teenagers and all."

"Dad, seriously," you mumbled, trying to fight the burning embarrassment still flooding your cheeks. "I'm pretty sure the last thing on our minds is doing anything weird in my lab. With you literally two rooms down."

Tony smirked slightly, placing the pizza box on the counter beside you. "Hey, I don't judge. Hormones are unpredictable."

"Oh my God," you muttered, covering your face with your hands, hoping the ground might spontaneously open and swallow you whole. "Why are you like this?"

Peter laughed nervously, shifting uncomfortably as he glanced between you and Tony. "Um, sir, we—we were really just talking about the field trip next week."

Tony raised a skeptical eyebrow, glancing sideways at Peter. "Sure, Pete. You don't have to worry about me, though. I trust you. Mostly."

You let out an exaggerated groan, slumping dramatically against the lab table. "Please, Dad. For the love of Thor, stop talking."

Tony chuckled deeply, flipping the pizza box open casually. "Speaking of the field trip," he started, pulling out a slice, "I've been thinking about how we should handle this whole thing."

You sighed softly, finally looking up at him with a wary expression. "Handle it?"

Tony nodded slowly, taking a casual bite of his pizza. "You know, introductions, awkward teenage social dynamics, maybe a strategically embarrassing slideshow detailing Peter's intern duties—"

"Mr. Stark!" Peter interrupted quickly, looking mortified. "Please don't."

You shook your head vigorously, narrowing your eyes firmly at Tony. "Absolutely not. Dad, you promised you'd behave. No embarrassing Peter, remember?"

Tony pouted dramatically, sighing deeply as he looked between the two of you. "You're no fun at all. You know how much prep I've already put into this presentation?"

Peter paled visibly, shifting anxiously on his stool. "Presentation?"

Tony smirked mischievously, leaning forward slightly as he took another bite. "It's titled 'Peter Parker: Spider Intern or Spider Imposter?' Thought it had a nice ring to it."

You groaned again, burying your face in your arms on the lab table. "Peter, I'm so sorry."

Peter chuckled nervously, shaking his head as he glanced over at you. "It's fine. I mean, how bad could it really be?"

Tony grinned widely. "Oh, kid, famous last words."

"Dad," you finally lifted your head again, giving him a pleading look, "can we please just have a normal field trip? Without your involvement? At all?"

Tony raised an eyebrow, looking dramatically offended. "No involvement? I'm hurt, Y/N. This is literally Stark Industries. Emphasis on the Stark."

"Exactly," you pointed out firmly, crossing your arms. "Industries. Not Tony Stark's Personal Embarrassment Tour."

Peter nodded quickly, clearly hopeful you’d convinced him. "Please, Mr. Stark. I promise I'll make sure my classmates behave."

Tony tilted his head thoughtfully, still chewing his pizza. "Hmm. Alright, Parker. I'll consider scaling back my incredible plans. But only because you're looking at me like a kicked puppy."

Peter relaxed visibly, sighing in relief. "Thank you."

You let out your own relieved breath, reaching over to squeeze Peter's hand gently. "You okay?"

He nodded slightly, squeezing your hand back as he gave you a small smile. "Yeah, thanks. Just, you know, mild panic attack."

You chuckled softly, giving him an affectionate look. "I promise, it'll be okay. We can handle Dad."

Tony rolled his eyes dramatically, finishing off his pizza slice. "I'm literally right here."

You grinned cheekily at him, shrugging your shoulders. "We know."

Tony chuckled lightly, shaking his head fondly at you both. "Alright, alright, I get it. I'll behave." He turned his attention back to Peter, pointing a stern finger in his direction. "But you'd better make sure those high school gremlins don't touch anything. Or breathe on anything expensive. Especially Flash."

Peter nodded quickly, looking relieved but still a bit nervous. "Yes, sir."

Tony sighed dramatically again, reaching for another slice of pizza as he shot you both a teasing smirk. "Honestly, I'm pretty sure running an Avengers-level security detail was less stressful than hosting a bunch of teenagers."

You laughed softly, shaking your head at him. "Relax, Dad. It'll be fine."

"Easy for you to say," Tony grumbled playfully, giving you an affectionate smile. "You're not the one dealing with liability paperwork."

Peter smiled slightly, visibly calmer now as he relaxed next to you. "I promise, Mr. Stark, we'll be on our best behavior."

Tony smiled knowingly, pointing at him dramatically. "Good. Because if not, I'm blaming you directly, Parker. And then—"

"Tony," Pepper's amused voice suddenly cut in from the doorway. You all turned to see her leaning against the frame with a fond expression. "Don't threaten Peter. He's nervous enough."

Tony grinned sheepishly, shrugging at his wife with a playful pout. "Hey, someone’s gotta keep the kid on his toes."

Pepper rolled her eyes warmly, walking toward you and Peter with a reassuring smile. "Don't listen to him. You'll both do great next week."

You smiled gratefully at her, relaxing further. "Thanks, Mom."

Pepper gently squeezed your shoulder, giving Peter a comforting look. "It'll be fun, Peter. And don't worry, Tony will behave himself."

Tony scoffed loudly, crossing his arms indignantly. "I'm literally standing right here. You people act like I'm the teenager."

You smirked cheekily, tilting your head. "Well, Dad—"

He quickly held up his hand, shaking his head firmly. "Don’t. Finish. That. Thought."

Pepper laughed lightly, patting Tony's shoulder affectionately. "Come on, Tony. Let's leave the kids alone."

He sighed dramatically, moving to follow her but turned at the doorway to give you both a mock-stern glare. "Door stays open, kids."

"Dad!" you groaned again, flushing furiously as Tony chuckled and finally followed Pepper out, the door staying conspicuously wide open.

You sighed deeply, slumping slightly as you turned to look at Peter. "Sorry again. He's… a lot."

Peter laughed softly, relaxing completely now as he smiled warmly at you. "I’m used to it. Besides, I think your dad's threats of embarrassment kinda prepared me for this stuff."

You grinned gently, leaning toward him again. "So, still excited for Friday?"

He gave you a nervous but sincere smile, nodding slightly. "Yeah. As long as you're there, I'll be fine."

You felt your heart flutter warmly, squeezing his hand again as you leaned in, gently pressing your lips against his again. This time, without any interruption from Tony.

Peter smiled softly against your lips, pulling back slowly and meeting your gaze warmly. "Thanks, Y/N. For everything."

You smiled gently back at him, your eyes full of affection. "Anytime, Pete."

Peter chuckled softly, shaking his head slightly. "Honestly, compared to being Spider-Man, dealing with your dad isn't so bad."

You laughed, giving his hand another gentle squeeze. "I'll remind you that you said that next Friday."

He sighed dramatically, grinning playfully. "Great. Can't wait."

You smiled warmly, knowing that despite Tony’s teasing, next week really was going to be great—because you'd be together, and that was what mattered most.

---

“Did May sign the permission slip? It’s due today!” Ned asked Peter as they walked down the hallway to Mr. Harrington’s class.

“Yeah, barely,” Peter laughed nervously, tugging his backpack higher onto his shoulder. “She got home late from her shift at the hospital, but I practically shoved the pen in her hand this morning.”

Ned chuckled, shaking his head knowingly. “Man, I still can’t believe we’re going to Stark Industries. Like, the actual Stark Industries. You think they’ll show us the Iron Man suits?”

Peter smirked, glancing over at Ned with amusement. “Probably not the real ones. Knowing Mr. Stark, he’ll probably have holographic decoys or something.”

“Oh, totally,” Ned agreed excitedly. “Wait, do you think the Avengers are gonna be there? Y/N did say the team all lives there.”

Peter bit his lip nervously, glancing around to make sure no one overheard them as they walked. “Yeah, I know. And that’s kinda what I’m worried about. Can you imagine how Flash is gonna react if Thor casually strolls by during the tour?”

Ned laughed, clapping Peter’s shoulder reassuringly. “Hey, just let Thor pick Flash up one-handed—that’ll shut him up real quick.”

Peter chuckled despite himself, shaking his head. “Yeah, tempting as that sounds, I promised Y/N we’d all behave.”

“Aw, man,” Ned teased dramatically, pretending to pout. “You guys are no fun at all.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Peter rolled his eyes affectionately, nudging Ned’s shoulder gently. “Just help me make sure MJ doesn’t instigate something. She’s been weirdly excited about this.”

Ned snorted loudly, nodding vigorously. “Dude, MJ told me she’s bringing popcorn to watch the chaos unfold. I think she’s secretly hoping Flash embarrasses himself.”

“Great,” Peter sighed, running a hand anxiously through his curls. “Just what I needed.”

“You’ll be fine, Peter,” Ned reassured gently, lowering his voice slightly. “Besides, you’re literally Spider-Man and dating Tony Stark’s daughter. Honestly, if Flash knew the truth, he’d lose his mind.”

Peter laughed quietly, shaking his head slightly. “Yeah, well, let’s hope he doesn’t find out like that. Flash losing his mind is the last thing I want.”

Ned laughed again, giving Peter another reassuring pat on the back as they approached the classroom. “Relax, dude. It’ll be fine. Besides, Y/N’s coming, right? She’ll probably have your back.”

Peter smiled softly at that, nodding slowly as he walked into Mr. Harrington’s room. “Yeah, she will.”

They found their seats, and MJ looked up from her sketchbook as they joined her. “Morning, losers. Permission slips signed, or are you both gonna have to sit this one out?”

“Very funny,” Ned said dryly, showing her his slip proudly. “Signed, sealed, and delivered.”

MJ smirked, lifting an eyebrow as she glanced at Peter. “And you, Parker?”

Peter waved his permission slip dramatically, giving her a mock-serious look. “Relax, MJ, I’ve got it covered.”

“Good,” she replied casually, returning to her sketching. “Because if you missed this, I was gonna have to record Flash embarrassing himself and send it to you.”

Peter smiled faintly. “How thoughtful.”

“Always,” MJ replied without looking up.

The bell rang, and Mr. Harrington quickly stood, adjusting his glasses and collecting the slips eagerly. “Alright, everyone! Permission slips, hand them in now, please! Stark Industries awaits!”

Peter handed his slip to Mr. Harrington, heart thudding slightly in his chest as he felt reality sinking in again. As Mr. Harrington counted the slips, Flash loudly leaned toward Peter from his seat.

“Better be careful, Parker,” Flash whispered mockingly, a smug grin plastered across his face. “You wouldn’t wanna embarrass yourself in front of Tony Stark by pretending to be his intern, would you?”

Peter sighed deeply, not even bothering to look over. “Thanks, Flash. Really appreciate the advice.”

Flash scoffed arrogantly, crossing his arms as he leaned back. “Just looking out for you, Parker.”

MJ shot Peter an amused, knowing glance, mouthing silently, “Ten bucks says he cries.”

Peter stifled a laugh, relaxing slightly. Maybe Ned was right—Friday wouldn’t be so bad. Especially since he had you.

---

Meanwhile, at the tower, you were currently scribbling equations onto the large whiteboard in your lab, muttering softly to yourself as you worked through a particularly challenging formula.

“You know, most teenagers prefer sleeping in, Y/N,” Rhodey’s voice suddenly teased lightly from the doorway.

You spun around, smiling brightly as you spotted him leaning casually against the frame. “Yeah, but most teenagers aren’t Stark geniuses.”

He chuckled softly, stepping into the lab and glancing at your equations curiously. “Impressive as always. New project?”

“Sort of,” you admitted sheepishly, tapping your marker against your chin thoughtfully. “Peter and I were talking about his web-fluid yesterday, and I think I found a way to improve its tensile strength.”

Rhodey raised an eyebrow, impressed despite himself. “Tony’s gonna be thrilled. Speaking of Peter, how’s he feeling about Friday?”

You sighed softly, leaning your back against the table. “Honestly? He’s nervous. Like, really nervous.”

Rhodey smiled knowingly, tilting his head sympathetically. “Poor kid. High school drama, huh?”

“Exactly,” you replied with a small laugh, shaking your head slightly. “It’s just… it’s frustrating. He’s incredible, you know? But he still worries what people like Flash Thompson think.”

Rhodey nodded understandingly. “Well, Flash Thompson’s an idiot.”

“That’s what I said!” you exclaimed immediately, grinning widely.

Rhodey laughed warmly, squeezing your shoulder gently. “Look, just remind Peter that he’s got nothing to prove. He knows who he is. You know who he is. That’s all that matters.”

You smiled softly at that, feeling warmth spread through your chest. “Thanks, Uncle Rhodey. I’ll make sure to remind him.”

He smiled back warmly, eyes gentle. “You two are good for each other, Y/N. You’ve always balanced each other out.”

You blushed slightly, nodding shyly. “Yeah, we do.”

“Alright,” Rhodey stepped back with an affectionate grin, “I better get to that meeting. Just wanted to check on you.”

You smiled warmly, giving him a grateful look. “Thanks, Uncle Rhodey.”

“Anytime, kiddo,” he replied gently before disappearing back into the hallway.

You turned back toward your equations, mind drifting again toward Peter and Friday. Despite all your reassurances, you knew exactly why he was nervous. Peter had always preferred blending in quietly, and dating Tony Stark’s daughter certainly wasn’t the way to keep a low profile.

But you’d made a promise to yourself—you would be there for him. No matter how awkward, how nervous, or how many snarky comments Flash made. Peter was worth it. Besides, you thought with a soft smile, you could handle a bit of embarrassment. Especially if it meant making sure everyone else knew just how amazing Peter Parker really was.

Smiling gently to yourself, you turned your attention back to your calculations. Friday couldn’t come soon enough.

---

Soon, Friday arrived and the bus to Stark Tower was overwhelmed with chatter and excitement.

"Oh my god, we're literally almost there!" Ned practically bounced in his seat, gripping the seat in front of him excitedly. "I'm actually going to see the lab where Iron Man makes his suits."

MJ rolled her eyes slightly, flipping casually through a book she'd brought along. "Please don't faint when you meet Tony again, Ned."

Ned frowned, looking mildly offended. "I didn't faint last time, MJ. I just got a little… dizzy."

Peter chuckled nervously from beside them, fingers fidgeting anxiously in his lap as his leg bounced rapidly. "Guys, please try not to draw too much attention today? Please?"

MJ lifted her gaze to Peter, arching an eyebrow skeptically. "You're dating the daughter of a billionaire superhero, Parker. I'm pretty sure attention is inevitable."

Peter groaned quietly, sinking slightly lower in his seat. "I was afraid you'd say that."

Flash loudly cleared his throat from across the aisle, leaning over with a smug smirk plastered on his face. "Parker, remind me—do interns at Stark Industries actually get to meet anyone important, or do they just spend the whole time fetching coffee?"

Peter sighed, closing his eyes briefly. "Flash, I've told you a million times—I'm an intern. I work in an actual lab."

Flash snorted dismissively. "Yeah, sure you do. We'll see about that."

"Ignore him," MJ muttered calmly, returning her attention to her book. "He's just jealous because his dad couldn't buy him an internship there."

Ned snickered softly as Flash huffed indignantly, turning away again.

Peter's phone buzzed suddenly, and he quickly glanced down, seeing your name light up his screen. He smiled slightly, quickly opening your message.

You: Hey Pete! Just checking in—are you still alive? Ned didn't faint yet, right?

Peter grinned, quickly typing a reply.

Peter: Barely hanging on. And Ned’s still conscious. For now.

You: Good. Can't wait to see you.

Peter's heart fluttered at that, fingers hesitating over the screen before he sent back his message.

Peter: Me too. Miss you.

"Aw, Peter's blushing," MJ teased flatly, smirking without looking up from her page.

Peter flushed deeper, quickly pocketing his phone and stammering awkwardly. "I—uh—I'm not—"

"It's cute, man," Ned reassured, giving him a gentle nudge. "Besides, you're gonna be fine. Y/N will make sure Flash shuts up."

Peter sighed softly, leaning back against his seat. "Yeah. Hopefully without giving him permanent emotional damage."

MJ shrugged nonchalantly. "Either way, it's a win for me."

Peter chuckled softly, shaking his head as the bus finally pulled up in front of Stark Tower. The entire class erupted in excited chatter, students pressing against windows to get a better look at the imposing glass building.

Mr. Harrington stood from the front of the bus, trying to speak loudly over the chatter. "Alright, class! Remember, this is a rare and special opportunity. So please—please—try to behave yourselves."

Flash scoffed loudly from his seat. "Relax, Mr. Harrington. I'm sure Parker here can use his imaginary connections to keep us in line."

Peter bit his lip, clenching his fists tightly to prevent himself from saying something he'd regret. Thankfully, MJ was quick to respond.

"Hey, Flash," she called dryly. "Maybe Stark Industries will have an opening in the mailroom for you after graduation. Aim high."

The class laughed quietly as Flash’s face turned red with embarrassment. Peter gave MJ a grateful look, smiling slightly.

They filed off the bus and gathered at the entrance, Mr. Harrington attempting to count heads. Peter’s nerves spiked again as he glanced up at the glass doors. He swallowed anxiously, realizing in just moments, the quiet corner of his life he’d worked so hard to keep separate was about to collide spectacularly with his classmates.

"Relax, Peter," Ned murmured reassuringly, patting his shoulder. "You got this."

Peter smiled weakly, nodding slightly. "Thanks, Ned."

MJ looked up from her book again, giving him a tiny smirk. "If all else fails, just have Tony Stark kick Flash out of the building."

Peter laughed softly, feeling some of the tension leave his shoulders. "Good idea."

Before he could reply further, the front doors opened, and Peter's heart skipped when he saw Happy Hogan step through.

"Welcome, Midtown," Happy said loudly, in his usual deadpan voice. "My name is Happy Hogan. I'm head of security here at Stark Industries. I'll be taking you to the conference room, and we'll begin the tour shortly."

Flash's eyes widened, whispering excitedly to his friends, "That's Stark's security guy! You know he's gotta know Iron Man personally."

Peter smiled slightly at Happy, trying to catch his eye. Happy's gaze finally landed on Peter, giving him a small, knowing nod.

"Keep up, people," Happy said impatiently, already turning around and leading the class toward the elevators.

Peter felt the butterflies in his stomach grow heavier with every step they took. His breathing quickened slightly, heart pounding anxiously in his chest as he glanced at Ned, whispering nervously, "This is it. Oh god."

Ned squeezed his shoulder again reassuringly, giving Peter an encouraging smile. "You're gonna be fine, Pete. Just breathe."

MJ smirked faintly as she walked beside them, glancing sideways at Peter. "You look like you're about to faint, Parker."

Peter forced himself to chuckle, nodding weakly. "Yeah, no kidding."

Finally, they reached the massive conference room, and Happy gestured inside impatiently. "Sit down and don't touch anything. We will be passing out badges that you will need during the tour. There are different levels for different roles in the company, and badges are never reprinted unless lost. Because apparently I’m the only here who takes security seriou—”

“Ah, son of Hogan!” Thor boomed, standing in the conference room door. “You wouldn’t mind going out and getting more Pop-Tarts, would you?”

Happy closed his eyes and took a deep breath, visibly counting to ten before turning slowly to face Thor. "Thor, we've discussed this. I'm working."

Thor smiled broadly, completely unfazed. "Ah, yes, Son of Hogan, but this is an emergency. You see, I ate all the strawberry ones, and now Banner refuses to share his."

Happy sighed deeply again, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Thor, please—just wait until I'm done here."

Thor's eyes drifted curiously to the classroom full of wide-eyed teenagers, offering them an enthusiastic wave. "Greetings, young scholars! Welcome to Stark's domain!"

Flash’s mouth fell open in shock, eyes wide as he grabbed his friend's shoulder. "Dude, it's literally Thor!"

Peter shrank slightly in his seat, cheeks flushing as he fought the overwhelming urge to bury his head in his arms. Ned elbowed him excitedly, whispering, "This is already the best day ever!"

MJ's smirk deepened as she leaned closer, murmuring softly, "At least Flash finally shut up."

Peter chuckled weakly, glancing nervously back at Thor, who had taken it upon himself to stride confidently into the conference room. Happy followed quickly, irritation clear on his face.

"Thor, I swear, if you break something—" Happy muttered sharply.

"Nonsense," Thor boomed cheerfully, placing his hands confidently on his hips as he smiled warmly at the stunned class. "These fine young Midgardians deserve the full Avengers experience."

Happy groaned softly, rolling his eyes upward in defeat.

Flash finally found his voice, practically vibrating in his seat. "Mr. Thor, sir—do you think we could, uh, maybe see your hammer?"

Thor chuckled heartily, shaking his head good-naturedly. "I'm afraid Mjolnir is resting securely, but perhaps another time!"

Mr. Harrington cleared his throat nervously, stepping forward to address Thor with an awkward smile. "Well, thank you for the unexpected introduction, Mr. Thor. We, uh, appreciate the warm welcome."

Thor beamed brightly, clapping a heavy hand onto Mr. Harrington’s shoulder, nearly knocking the teacher off balance. "Of course! I bid you farewell, small ones. Enjoy Stark's sanctuary!"

With a final dramatic wave, Thor exited the conference room, leaving a stunned silence behind.

Happy exhaled deeply, glancing around the room again. "So that's Thor. Please, no more interruptions. As I was saying before our surprise guest—badges. You'll each receive one based on your level of clearance."

He began passing out badges, placing them carefully onto the table as he spoke. "Blue badges grant general access for today. Do not lose these, do not trade them, do not sell them online. Trust me, we'll know."

Flash eagerly grabbed his badge, practically cradling it in awe as he turned to whisper excitedly to his friends. "Guys, this is legit Stark tech!"

MJ rolled her eyes slightly, carefully clipping her badge onto her shirt. "It's literally a laminated card, Flash."

Flash scowled at her, but Ned cut in excitedly before he could reply. "Hey, Peter, your badge is different. Yours is red!"

Peter flushed, awkwardly reaching out to take his badge from Happy, who gave him another subtle, reassuring nod. "Yeah, uh—it's an intern badge. It gives me access to the labs."

Flash's eyes widened again, looking sharply at Peter. "Wait—Parker actually has a legit badge?"

Peter sighed tiredly, clipping the badge onto his hoodie. "Yeah, Flash, that's what I've been trying to tell you."

Flash narrowed his eyes suspiciously, clearly skeptical but momentarily at a loss for words. Ned grinned proudly, nudging Peter excitedly. "Told you they'd freak."

Peter smiled weakly, glancing anxiously toward the doorway as Happy finished handing out badges and returned to the front of the room.

"Alright, people," Happy continued in his deadpan voice, "we have a lot to cover. I'll be taking you through the lower-level labs, public spaces, and exhibits. You'll be staying together and not touching anything unless explicitly instructed."

Mr. Harrington quickly nodded, his eyes wide with mild panic as he gestured toward the class. "Yes, yes—everyone, please listen carefully to Mr. Hogan."

Peter took a slow, steadying breath, trying to quell the anxiety that bubbled within his chest. MJ leaned slightly toward him, murmuring dryly, "Relax, Parker. You've survived alien invasions. You can survive a high school field trip."

Peter let out a shaky laugh, nodding weakly. "Yeah, you're right."

Happy motioned impatiently, waving everyone toward the door again. "Alright, follow me closely. We're heading down to the exhibit hall first."

Peter stood slowly, falling into step beside Ned and MJ. Flash followed closely behind, loudly whispering to anyone who would listen, "I bet we'll get to meet Tony Stark himself."

Peter's pulse quickened nervously at the mention of Tony, stomach twisting anxiously at the thought of just how close his carefully separated worlds were becoming. MJ glanced at him knowingly, giving a subtle smirk.

"You know," she murmured casually, "if Flash annoys Stark enough, maybe he'll ban him from the building."

Peter chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Yeah, let's hope so."

They reached the elevators, and Happy quickly keyed in a security code, herding the group inside. "No pushing, please."

The elevator descended smoothly, opening into the exhibit hall. The entire class gasped, excited murmurs filling the air as they took in the massive display cases of Stark tech, holographic screens detailing various inventions, and impressive Avengers suits lining the walls.

Ned’s mouth fell open, eyes wide with awe. "Peter, this is insane!"

Peter smiled faintly, glancing around nervously. "Yeah, it's pretty cool."

Happy cleared his throat impatiently again, gesturing toward the displays. "Feel free to look around. No touching the glass. You break it, you buy it, and trust me—none of you can afford it."

Flash immediately moved toward the nearest Iron Man suit, practically pressing his nose to the glass as he marveled at it.

MJ leaned toward Peter again, speaking quietly. "You know Flash is gonna touch something eventually, right?"

Peter smiled slightly, nodding in resignation. "Yeah, probably."

“Spider-Man has his own display!?” Flash exclaimed, practically rushing toward the exhibit. He pressed his hands against the glass excitedly, ignoring Happy’s warning glare.

"Dude," Ned whispered to Peter, trying and failing to hide his grin, "That's you!"

"Shh!" Peter hissed nervously, glancing around quickly to ensure no one overheard. "Not here, man."

MJ chuckled quietly from beside them, arms crossed as she casually took in the spectacle. "So, this is what a secret identity crisis looks like."

Flash’s voice rang out loudly again, clearly trying to impress his small gathering of friends. "I mean, Spider-Man’s cool and all, but he's no Iron Man."

Peter felt his face flush slightly, resisting the urge to say something back. Ned, noticing his friend’s tense expression, quickly nudged Peter gently.

"Just breathe, dude," Ned whispered reassuringly, eyes sympathetic. "He doesn’t even know who he’s talking to."

Peter sighed softly, smiling weakly at Ned. "Yeah, you're right."

Flash continued his monologue to anyone who would listen, motioning dramatically to the display. "Spider-Man's alright, sure, but he's probably just some random guy who got lucky. Stark Industries just felt bad and threw him a bone."

"Wow," MJ deadpanned softly, eyebrows raised as she looked at Peter pointedly. "Are you gonna tell him how you single-handedly stopped a flying bird guy and an army of drones, or should I?"

Peter bit back a laugh, shaking his head nervously. "No, MJ. Please, no."

Meanwhile, Happy loudly cleared his throat again, clearly irritated. "Hey! Thompson, right? Keep your hands off the glass."

Flash pulled his hands back immediately, looking sheepish but quickly regaining his confidence. "Sorry, sir. Just admiring Spider-Man’s, uh, impressive suit."

Happy raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "I'm sure he'd be thrilled."

The class snickered softly at Flash’s embarrassment, and Ned leaned closer to Peter, whispering excitedly, "Oh man, I wish Y/N were here. She'd totally roast him right now."

Peter chuckled softly, nerves easing slightly at the mention of you. "Yeah, I know. She's definitely better at handling Flash than I am."

MJ smirked faintly, eyes sparkling with amusement. "You mean scarier."

"That too," Peter admitted with a slight laugh, shoulders relaxing a bit more.

Happy guided them further into the exhibit hall, pointing out various pieces of technology as the class followed excitedly behind. Ned eagerly snapped photos with his phone, whispering excited commentary to Peter, who smiled and nodded distractedly, mind clearly elsewhere.

They stopped again in front of a sleek glass display featuring the nanotech suit Tony wore during the battle against Thanos. The entire class gasped softly, and even MJ looked up from her book, clearly impressed.

"This," Happy announced seriously, motioning toward the display, "is Mr. Stark’s most advanced suit to date—fully integrated nanotechnology. It saved his life multiple times."

Flash stepped forward again, looking star-struck. "Is this the actual suit Iron Man wore?"

Happy sighed softly, nodding reluctantly. "Yes. And before you ask, no, you can't touch it."

Flash stepped back quickly, holding his hands up innocently. "Just checking."

"Wow," Ned breathed softly, glancing at Peter excitedly. "Dude, you've literally helped Mr. Stark build stuff like this. That's insane."

Flash overheard Ned's comment, quickly scoffing dismissively. "Oh, come on, Leeds. Stop believing Parker’s ridiculous fantasies. Like Tony Stark would ever let him near something important."

Peter felt his jaw tighten slightly in irritation but forced himself to remain silent, refusing to engage. MJ, however, tilted her head calmly, offering Flash a dry, unimpressed look.

"You're really embarrassing yourself right now," she stated bluntly, returning her attention casually to her book.

Flash opened his mouth to respond, clearly flustered, but Happy quickly interrupted before he could.

"Alright, moving on!" Happy called loudly, gesturing impatiently toward the next exhibit. "We still have a lot to see."

Peter felt a tiny bit of relief as Flash was forced to follow along silently, though his anxiety only grew as they continued deeper into Stark Tower. With every passing moment, they were closer to crossing paths with the Avengers—and, of course, with you.

The group turned the corner, approaching another expansive hall. Happy motioned toward the collection of Captain America’s shields mounted on the walls.

"And here," Happy said flatly, "you'll see the various prototypes and completed designs for Captain America's shield—vibranium alloy, nearly indestructible, and incredibly dangerous when wielded by literally anyone else."

The class laughed softly, admiring the impressive display. MJ glanced casually at Peter, raising an eyebrow with mock seriousness. "Cap's still your favorite Avenger, right?"

Peter chuckled nervously, shrugging slightly. "Uh, I dunno… they're all pretty cool."

Ned rolled his eyes dramatically, nudging Peter again. "Come on, dude. We all know your favorite Avenger."

MJ smirked knowingly. "Y/N doesn't count."

Peter flushed bright red immediately, stammering awkwardly. "I—I mean—she’s not technically an Avenger, so—"

"Uh-huh," MJ replied flatly, returning her focus calmly to the displays.

Flash scoffed softly from behind, overhearing their conversation. "Please. Like Parker even knows Y/N Stark. He probably doesn't even know what she looks like."

Peter's cheeks grew even redder, fists clenching nervously at his sides. Ned quickly placed a reassuring hand on Peter’s shoulder, shaking his head slightly.

"Just ignore him," Ned murmured softly, eyes sympathetic.

MJ rolled her eyes dramatically, glancing back at Peter calmly. "Seriously, Parker, you need better taste in friends."

Peter smiled weakly, trying not to let Flash’s words get under his skin. But as the tour continued, he felt increasingly anxious, dreading the inevitable moment you’d show up and his carefully guarded secret would be spectacularly shattered.

The class moved forward again, following Happy toward another part of the exhibit hall. Ned continued chattering excitedly, pointing out different displays to Peter, who smiled and nodded distractedly, heart racing anxiously in his chest.

As Happy stopped once more in front of a display case showcasing Hawkeye's various trick arrows, Flash loudly cleared his throat again, arms crossed smugly.

"Honestly," Flash announced loudly, addressing the entire class dramatically, "I'm surprised Stark even has this many Hawkeye arrows on display. I mean, he's basically useless compared to literally anyone else."

Peter frowned slightly, jaw tightening again in annoyance. He knew Clint well enough to appreciate just how skilled and important he truly was.

MJ, however, remained unimpressed, tilting her head calmly toward Flash. "You know Hawkeye could probably take you down with a single paperclip, right?"

Flash scoffed arrogantly, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, right. The guy shoots arrows for a living. Big deal."

From just behind Flash, a familiar voice suddenly spoke, casual but amused. "Actually, paperclips are a little boring. Give me some dental floss and a rubber band—now that's interesting."

Flash turned quickly, eyes wide with shock as he realized Clint Barton himself had silently walked up behind him, a mug of coffee in hand and a relaxed, amused smile on his face.

"Oh—um," Flash stammered awkwardly, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as the entire class watched eagerly. "I—I didn’t mean—"

Clint chuckled softly, taking a casual sip of his coffee. "Relax, kid. No offense taken."

MJ smirked faintly, clearly entertained by Flash’s embarrassment. "Nice save, Flash."

Clint turned his gaze casually toward Peter, eyes sparkling knowingly. "Hey, Pete. Good to see you."

Peter flushed immediately, suddenly aware of everyone's eyes on him. He quickly waved nervously, voice slightly strained. "Uh, hey, Clint."

Flash stared wide-eyed, completely speechless now, as Clint simply nodded, clearly entertained. "Enjoy the tour, kids. Try not to break anything."

With that, Clint casually continued down the hallway, leaving stunned silence behind him.

MJ looked pointedly at Flash, raising an amused eyebrow. "Still think he's useless?"

Flash remained silent, cheeks burning with embarrassment as he quickly averted his gaze.

Peter exhaled slowly, heart still pounding anxiously in his chest. He glanced nervously toward the door, knowing that with Clint’s appearance, it was only a matter of time before the others arrived—and before you showed up and inevitably turned his entire world upside down.

And that moment came sooner than expected. As Happy led the class to the end of the exhibit hall, Vision phased through the wall, looking politely inquisitive as he hovered just slightly above the ground. "Ah, Mr. Hogan. I need to know where there’s extra sugar. Y/N asked for tea, and I'm 0.05 grams short."

Happy took another deep, exhausted breath, closing his eyes briefly in annoyance. "Vision, you're literally a supercomputer. Can’t you calculate your way to the pantry?"

Vision tilted his head thoughtfully. "I did, indeed. However, the pantry appears to have been relocated to accommodate Thor’s snack preferences. This requires manual intervention."

From the back of the group, Flash practically squeaked, whispering excitedly to the person beside him, "Holy crap, that’s Vision! Actual Vision!"

MJ glanced sideways at Flash, deadpan as always. "You sure? Might just be some other floating, vibranium-infused android phasing through walls."

Flash glared at her, crossing his arms tightly. "Shut up."

Peter swallowed nervously, feeling Ned elbowing him excitedly in the side. "Dude, this is literally the coolest day of my entire life."

"Yeah," Peter mumbled, feeling anxiety bubble up again at the mention of your name. His heart pounded quicker, wondering if this was the start of your inevitable appearance.

The elevators at the end of the hall opened as Wanda walked out. “Vis, you didn’t need to come all the way down here for sugar. I had found a new bag underneath the sink right when you left.”

“Yes,” Happy said, “thank you, Wanda. And Vision, I doubt Y/N would notice a difference if you were 0.05 grams short.”

Vision tilted his head thoughtfully, completely unfazed by the class of teenagers staring at him. "I suppose. But as she tells me, I make it perfect every time. I'd rather not disappoint her."

Wanda smiled softly, gently placing a reassuring hand on his arm. "Trust me, Vis, Y/N will survive a slightly imperfect cup of tea."

From somewhere behind Peter, Flash whispered excitedly to his friend, voice shaking with awe. "Dude—Scarlet Witch too? This is literally the best day of my entire existence."

MJ glanced sideways, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. "I'm glad witnessing you reach the peak of your existence is just as disappointing as I imagined, Flash."

Ned elbowed Peter again, practically bouncing in place. "This is insane, Pete! Wanda, Vision—who's next? Black Panther? Captain Marvel?"

Peter chuckled nervously, shifting anxiously on his feet. "Let's hope not."

Happy sighed deeply, giving Vision and Wanda a pointed look. "Alright, could you two maybe move this conversation somewhere else? I'm trying to give an educational tour here."

Vision nodded politely, still hovering just slightly above the ground. "Of course, Mr. Hogan. My apologies. We shall return upstairs."

"Thanks," Happy muttered flatly, clearly counting down the seconds until his tour guide duty ended.

Wanda turned her attention curiously to the class, smiling warmly as she noticed Peter. "Oh, Peter! Hi. How's the tour going?"

Peter flushed again immediately, awkwardly waving at her while feeling every single pair of eyes in the room shift to stare at him. "Uh, hi, Wanda. It's going good, thanks."

Flash stared wide-eyed at Peter, visibly baffled. "Wait—Parker knows Wanda Maximoff? What?"

MJ didn't look up from her book, lips quirking slightly. "If you'd listened to literally anything Peter said in the last two years, Flash, this wouldn't be surprising."

Flash opened his mouth to argue, cheeks flushed, but Wanda simply smiled gently, clearly amused by the drama she'd accidentally caused. "Well, I'll let you get back to it. Have fun, everyone."

With a polite nod, Wanda and Vision left quietly, leaving another stunned silence in their wake.

Mr. Harrington took a shaky breath, clearly overwhelmed by the day's surprises. "Well, this is certainly more exciting than I anticipated. Mr. Hogan, should we continue?"

"Please," Happy agreed impatiently, already walking ahead. "Next up is our robotics lab. Follow closely."

As the class began moving again, Flash stepped quickly beside Peter, clearly desperate for answers. "Okay, Parker, what's going on? First Clint Barton, now Wanda Maximoff knows you? How?"

Peter shrugged awkwardly, avoiding eye contact as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, I mean—I told you, I work here. I'm an intern."

Flash shook his head skeptically, narrowing his eyes. "No way. There's gotta be something else."

MJ sighed dryly, clearly losing patience with Flash's stubborn disbelief. "Yeah, Flash, it's almost like Peter has an actual life outside of school. Wild concept, I know."

Flash huffed irritably, quickly walking ahead of them with a muttered, "Whatever."

Ned snickered softly, grinning at Peter triumphantly. "Finally! Flash has no idea what's coming next."

"Yeah," Peter chuckled weakly, heart racing anxiously again as he glanced around nervously, half-expecting you to pop out at any moment. "I'm terrified."

MJ smirked knowingly, nudging him gently. "Relax, Parker. This is honestly the best entertainment I've had in weeks."

They entered the robotics lab, a spacious room filled with advanced machinery, holographic interfaces, and several scientists and engineers quietly working at various stations.

Flash immediately rushed toward a particularly impressive robotic arm on display, eyes wide with awe. "Whoa, check this out! Do you think it's remote-controlled or something?"

Happy shot Flash an annoyed glare. "No. And again, Thompson—don't touch."

Flash quickly withdrew his hands, sheepishly stepping back again.

Peter lingered nervously near the doorway, fingers twitching anxiously at his sides. He glanced around the familiar lab, memories of working alongside you and Tony flooding his mind.

"Peter!" Bruce's cheerful voice suddenly called from across the room, causing Peter to jump slightly. Bruce walked over quickly, smiling warmly as he adjusted his glasses. "Good to see you, kid."

The class immediately quieted again, eyes once more shifting curiously toward Peter.

Peter flushed again, offering Bruce a shy, awkward wave. "Hi, Dr. Banner."

Bruce chuckled lightly, gently squeezing Peter's shoulder reassuringly. "You nervous?"

Peter forced a small laugh, scratching his neck nervously. "A little."

Flash stared open-mouthed, clearly unable to process yet another Avenger casually acknowledging Peter's existence. "This is not happening."

MJ smirked faintly, casually flipping another page in her book. "Honestly, Flash, your denial at this point is almost impressive."

Bruce glanced curiously at Flash, tilting his head slightly. "Is everything alright?"

Ned eagerly jumped in before Flash could respond, grinning broadly. "Flash just can't handle the fact that Peter actually interns here. He's been convinced Peter's lying for two years."

Bruce raised his eyebrows, clearly amused as he glanced back at Peter. "Really? Two whole years, huh? That's dedication."

Peter smiled weakly, shrugging again. "Yeah, it's been… interesting."

Bruce chuckled again, patting Peter reassuringly on the shoulder. "Well, don't let them get to you. You're brilliant, Peter."

"Thanks, Dr. Banner," Peter murmured shyly, cheeks pink again.

Flash stood completely silent, glaring at the floor in embarrassed frustration. Ned and MJ exchanged amused looks, clearly enjoying the drama unfolding.

Bruce smiled warmly again before giving Happy a quick nod. "Alright, I'll let you guys get back to the tour. Enjoy yourselves."

As Bruce returned to his workstation, Mr. Harrington cleared his throat nervously, trying to regain control. "Thank you, Dr. Banner. Class, shall we keep moving?"

Flash walked ahead quietly, clearly still stewing in confusion and embarrassment. MJ smirked triumphantly, looking pointedly at Peter. "See, Parker? Told you today would be entertaining."

Peter chuckled softly, still anxious but slightly less tense now. "Yeah, you're definitely right about that."

---

Lunch finally rolled around as the group was led to the mess hall, which was filled with at least a dozen small restaurants and cafes. The students murmured excitedly, marveling at the sprawling array of choices.

"No way," Ned breathed in awe, looking around eagerly. "They literally have everything. Pizza, sushi, burgers… is that a taco stand?"

Peter chuckled softly, his nerves easing slightly as he watched his friend practically vibrate with excitement. "Yeah, Mr. Stark doesn't really do subtle."

MJ raised an amused eyebrow, smirking faintly. "Gee, I couldn't tell. It's not like we've spent all morning touring through his personal Disneyland."

Flash scowled slightly from across the table, clearly still irritated by the earlier embarrassment. He crossed his arms defensively. "Big deal. My dad's company cafeteria has pretty much all the same stuff."

MJ tilted her head calmly, unimpressed. "Yeah, but I'm guessing your dad's cafeteria isn't visited by literal superheroes."

Ned snorted quietly, quickly covering his mouth as Flash's face reddened again with annoyance.

Peter shifted anxiously in his seat, scanning the room carefully. He could feel the familiar flutter of nerves again, anticipation building in his chest. He knew you'd be coming by—he just wasn't sure when.

"Dude," Ned whispered, leaning toward Peter eagerly, eyes darting around the bustling space. "Where's Y/N? She said she was bringing you lunch, right?"

"Yeah," Peter admitted quietly, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Maybe she's running late. Or forgot."

MJ rolled her eyes, clearly unbothered as she calmly continued sketching in her notebook. "Parker, you're literally dating the human equivalent of a supercomputer. She didn't forget."

Peter flushed faintly, smiling shyly. "Yeah, you're right."

From nearby, Flash turned sharply, overhearing the tail-end of the conversation. He leaned toward them, voice thick with disbelief and mockery. "Wait, hold up. Did you just imply Parker's dating Y/N Stark?"

Peter swallowed nervously, looking away quickly. "Uh—"

MJ calmly met Flash's skeptical glare. "Do you need a dictionary to understand basic English, Thompson? I thought it was clear."

Flash scoffed loudly, folding his arms with an arrogant smirk. "That's hilarious, even for Parker. There's no way Stark's daughter would look twice at him."

Peter clenched his fists tightly beneath the table, irritation flickering in his eyes. Before he could reply, a familiar voice rang out clearly across the crowded mess hall.

"Peter!" your voice called happily from near the doors. Peter's head snapped up quickly, and he felt his heart skip anxiously as you stepped through the busy cafeteria, smiling brightly and holding two bags in your hands. "Sorry I'm late! Dad wouldn't stop talking about something I was working on, and—"

Your voice trailed off when you noticed everyone staring at you, a hush of surprised whispers quickly spreading through the crowd. You hesitated slightly, your cheeks burning as you realized the entire Midtown High class was openly gaping at you—Flash included.

Peter swallowed nervously, heart hammering in his chest as he slowly stood up, forcing a shy, awkward smile as he walked toward you. "Hey, Y/N."

Your eyes softened immediately at the sight of him, relaxing visibly as your lips curved into a gentle smile. "Hey, Pete."

Flash stared open-mouthed, frozen in shock, his voice coming out as a stunned squeak. "No freaking way."

You glanced sideways at Flash, arching an unimpressed eyebrow at his disbelief before turning your attention fully back to Peter. You held out one of the lunch bags, offering a sheepish smile. "I brought your favorite sandwich from Deluca's. And some cookies Wanda and I made last night."

Peter relaxed slightly, unable to suppress his shy grin as he gently took the bag from you. "Thanks. You're the best."

You smiled warmly, reaching out to gently squeeze his hand. "Obviously."

Behind him, Ned coughed pointedly, grinning eagerly as he waved at you. "Hi, Y/N!"

You chuckled softly, stepping around Peter and walking over to greet Ned and MJ warmly. "Hey, Ned. MJ."

MJ nodded calmly, lips quirking faintly. "Nice entrance."

You laughed softly, glancing around the cafeteria again with mild embarrassment. "Yeah, that wasn't exactly intentional."

Flash finally found his voice again, sputtering incredulously. "Hold up. You're seriously dating Parker?"

You glanced over at Flash, raising your eyebrows calmly. "You say that like it's surprising. We've been dating for a year."

Flash gaped openly, completely baffled. "But—but he's Parker! How?"

MJ tilted her head casually, voice dry and deadpan. "Generally, Flash, people date because they like each other. I know, shocking concept."

Peter flushed faintly, gently nudging your side as he leaned in closer. "I'm so sorry."

You grinned mischievously, eyes sparkling playfully as you glanced back at Peter. "Why? This is kind of fun."

Ned chuckled softly, shaking his head fondly. "You're terrifying sometimes, Y/N."

MJ smirked knowingly, still sketching calmly in her notebook. "That's why I like her."

You laughed lightly again, quickly leaning in to press a gentle kiss against Peter's cheek, making his blush deepen even further. "Anyway, enjoy your lunch. I'll see you after the tour?"

Peter nodded shyly, smiling softly at you. "Yeah, definitely."

Flash opened his mouth again, clearly still confused, but Happy suddenly appeared near your shoulder, arms crossed impatiently. "Alright, kids. As amusing as this drama is, lunch break's almost over. Finish eating, and we'll continue the tour."

You smiled sheepishly, giving Peter one final, affectionate glance. "See you soon, Pete."

Peter smiled warmly, heart fluttering softly as he watched you walk away. "See you."

As you disappeared down the hallway, Flash shook his head, muttering softly, "This is literally the weirdest day of my entire life."

MJ didn't look up from her book, casually replying, "Glad I was here to see it."

Ned grinned broadly, happily returning to his sandwich. "Me too."

Peter sighed quietly, finally relaxing fully into his seat again. He carefully opened the lunch bag you'd brought, smiling fondly when he saw his favorite sandwich and cookies neatly packed inside.

"You good, Parker?" MJ asked calmly, glancing up from her book briefly.

Peter smiled softly, feeling warmth spread through his chest as he nodded gently. "Yeah, I'm great."

From across the table, Flash silently stared at Peter for several more moments, clearly processing everything he'd witnessed before finally clearing his throat awkwardly. "So, um—do you, like, know Tony Stark, then?"

MJ rolled her eyes slightly, shaking her head with a faint sigh. "Flash, seriously."

Peter chuckled softly, finally feeling a little more confident. He glanced calmly toward Flash, shrugging lightly. "Yeah, Flash. I work with him pretty regularly."

Flash sat back heavily in his chair, looking thoroughly humbled. "Wow. That's… that's really cool."

MJ smirked faintly, muttering quietly enough for only Peter and Ned to hear. "And it only took two years to get through to him."

Peter smiled shyly, shaking his head slightly. "Better late than never, right?"

Ned chuckled warmly, raising his sandwich slightly in a mock-toast. "To Peter Parker—Stark Industries intern, Spider-Man, and boyfriend of Y/N freaking Stark. Dude, your life is insane."

Peter laughed softly, feeling a content warmth spread through him as he took a bite of his sandwich. "Yeah. It definitely is."

---

The rest of lunch passed quickly, and soon Happy returned to gather the students again. He stood at the head of the table, hands on his hips, clearly eager to finish his unofficial tour guide duties.

"Alright," Happy announced gruffly, looking around impatiently at the group. "Lunch break's over. Everyone, up. We're heading up to the R&D floors next."

Ned quickly stuffed the last of his sandwich into his mouth, scrambling to his feet eagerly. "R&D floors? Oh, man, I can't wait to see that!"

MJ calmly put away her sketchbook, casting Peter an amused look. "Try not to pass out from excitement, Leeds."

Flash lingered quietly near the back of the group, clearly still subdued by the earlier revelations. He offered Peter a small, somewhat awkward nod of acknowledgement as he passed by, clearly at a loss for how to handle the newfound information.

Peter smiled faintly, feeling slightly bad for Flash despite everything. He offered a small, friendly nod back before following the group toward the elevators.

As they gathered around the elevator, Ned practically bounced in place. "Dude, the R&D floors must be where all the top-secret stuff happens, right? Like experimental suits and nanotech?"

Peter chuckled quietly, nodding slightly. "Yeah, Mr. Stark keeps most of his really cool inventions there."

Happy ushered them inside impatiently, quickly pressing the button for one of the upper floors. "Stay close, please. And for the love of everything, do not touch anything."

The elevator doors opened, and the class stepped out into a large, open area filled with workstations, holographic projections, and advanced machinery. Several engineers moved around busily, immersed in various tasks and experiments.

Ned stared wide-eyed, quickly glancing at Peter in excitement. "This is so freaking cool!"

MJ arched an eyebrow slightly, looking mildly impressed despite herself. "I'll admit, this actually is impressive."

Flash stayed quiet, eyes carefully scanning the room, clearly wary of embarrassing himself further.

Happy cleared his throat, motioning toward one of the larger workstations. "Here at Stark Industries, our engineers develop cutting-edge technology daily. Everything from advanced energy solutions to prototype armor upgrades are created in this very room."

From the far side of the room, Tony Stark himself suddenly appeared, clearly engrossed in conversation with a technician. The class collectively froze, whispering excitedly as they recognized him.

"Dude," Ned whispered loudly, grabbing Peter's arm excitedly. "That's literally Tony Stark. He's right there!"

Peter smiled slightly, feeling his face flush again. "Yeah, Ned. I've seen him before."

Flash watched nervously, clearly intimidated. "Wow, it's really him. Like, Iron Man himself."

MJ sighed softly, rolling her eyes. "Congratulations, Flash, you have functioning eyes."

Tony glanced up briefly, eyebrows raised slightly as he noticed the group of teenagers staring at him. His lips quirked faintly in amusement as he spotted Peter, stepping closer casually.

"Peter," Tony greeted calmly, eyes sparkling knowingly. "How's the tour going? Still alive?"

Peter smiled weakly, scratching his neck shyly. "Barely, Mr. Stark."

Flash stared wide-eyed, completely silent again, visibly stunned.

Tony turned slightly, addressing the group with an amused smirk. "Hello, Midtown students. Hope you’ve been treating Peter nicely. I’d hate to revoke your guest privileges."

Peter bit his lip nervously, quickly shaking his head. "They're fine, Mr. Stark. Really."

Tony nodded casually, glancing back at Flash knowingly. "Good. Because someone around here owes my daughter an apology."

Flash flushed brightly, quickly looking away in embarrassment.

MJ smirked faintly, clearly entertained. "Nice going, Thompson."

Tony chuckled lightly, patting Peter gently on the shoulder. "Anyway, I’ll leave you all to it. Try not to break anything expensive."

"Yes, sir," Peter murmured quietly, cheeks flushed but unable to hide a small smile.

Tony gave a casual wave, already moving back toward his workstation. "Enjoy the rest of the tour."

As Tony walked away, Flash looked toward Peter sheepishly, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Hey, um—sorry for… you know, everything."

Peter smiled faintly, shrugging lightly. "It's fine, Flash."

MJ arched a calm eyebrow, offering Peter an amused glance. "You're too nice, Parker."

Peter chuckled softly, shaking his head slightly. "Yeah, probably."

Happy cleared his throat impatiently, motioning toward another workstation. "Alright, moving along. Lots to see, people."

They soon made their way to the Avengers gym. Through the soundproof glass they could see Natasha practicing her shooting, Bucky cleaning his metal arm, Steve hitting a boxing bag, and Sam and Clint preparing their own weapons.

“—well, Tony supposedly improved my exploding arrows.”

“Yeah, well he also upgraded Redwing.” Sam countered.

Clint narrowed his eyes at the mention of Redwing. "Look, Wilson, we all know Tony loves his robots, but arrows take precision and skill."

Sam scoffed, checking over his wrist controls with a confident smirk. "Oh, please. You can’t even hit a target without your fancy exploding arrows."

Clint frowned, quickly grabbing an arrow and notching it firmly. "I bet I hit my mark faster than you can get that toy of yours airborne."

Sam grinned sharply, raising his wrist confidently. "Deal, Barton. Count of three?"

"You're on," Clint shot back, aiming carefully at the target. "One... two... three!"

He fired the arrow, watching proudly as it sailed perfectly into the bullseye. But nothing happened. The arrow simply embedded itself, utterly anticlimactic.

Sam laughed loudly, shaking his head. "Well done, Barton. That’s impressive."

Clint stared incredulously at his arrow. "What the—these were fine yesterday! Stark must’ve given me defective ones."

Bucky snorted softly from nearby, polishing his metal arm casually. "Pretty sure Tony doesn't make anything defective."

Clint shot him an annoyed glare. "Yeah, well, I guess today’s his first."

"Watch and learn," Sam said confidently, activating Redwing from his wrist pad. The drone immediately sprang to life, hovering briefly in the air—before suddenly sputtering out with a pitiful beep and dropping uselessly to the ground.

Bucky raised an amused eyebrow, smirking faintly. "Problem, Sam?"

Sam stared open-mouthed at Redwing, quickly fiddling with the controls in frustration. "Aw, come on, not you too! Redwing was perfectly fine this morning!"

Clint rolled his eyes, quickly grabbing another arrow from his quiver, carefully examining it with suspicion. "Maybe the lab just had a glitch or something."

Steve paused his boxing practice, turning to watch them curiously. "You sure you two aren’t doing something wrong?"

Clint scoffed, rolling his shoulders irritably. "I've literally been doing this for decades, Steve. I think I know how to shoot an arrow."

"Alright," Sam announced, tapping at his controls again with determination. "Let's try this again."

"Second time’s the charm," Clint agreed dryly, pulling back his bowstring confidently. "Ready, Wilson?"

"Do it," Sam replied sharply, flicking his wrist pad once more.

Clint released his arrow just as Sam activated Redwing again—and chaos immediately erupted.

The arrow exploded dramatically with a loud pop, showering Clint in a thick cloud of bright, glittery red powder. At precisely the same moment, Sam’s wrist pad burst open, coating him in an identical sparkling mess.

Clint yelped loudly, stumbling backward as glitter settled over his hair, clothes, and face. "What the—oh, no, no, no! What is this stuff?"

Sam sputtered furiously, shaking his wrist uselessly and only spreading glitter further across his shirt. "Oh, you gotta be kidding me—Stark!"

Bucky started laughing immediately, clutching his sides as he watched Clint frantically try to wipe the glitter off, only succeeding in smearing it deeper into his clothes. "I stand corrected. Maybe Tony does make defective gear—on purpose."

Steve chuckled softly, shaking his head in disbelief. "You two might wanna clean that up before—"

"Too late," Natasha chimed in smoothly from across the room, carefully reloading her weapon with an amused smirk. "I warned you both about letting Thor and Loki visit Y/N."

Clint stopped his frantic glitter-rubbing, eyes narrowing suspiciously at Natasha. "Wait. You knew about this?"

She shrugged innocently, lips twitching upward. "Maybe."

Sam groaned dramatically, dropping his head back in annoyance. "Great. Loki glitter."

Natasha nodded knowingly, offering a small, sympathetic smile. "Sorry, boys. But I did warn you—multiple times."

Clint threw his hands up in exasperation, sending a fresh cloud of glitter into the air. "Why do we keep trusting Y/N when Thor and Loki are involved? Have we learned nothing?"

Bucky smirked faintly, leaning back comfortably in his seat. "Apparently not."

---

Outside the soundproof glass of the gym, Peter’s entire class stared in wide-eyed disbelief, clearly stunned by the spectacle they'd just witnessed.

Ned turned slowly toward Peter, whispering in awe. "Dude, that was the single greatest thing I've ever seen."

Peter shook his head slightly, trying not to smile as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Yeah. Definitely a Y/N special."

Flash blinked rapidly, clearly still processing everything. "Wait, hold on. Y/N did that?"

MJ raised an eyebrow calmly, clearly entertained. "If you'd ever actually met her, you'd know that's practically her signature."

Peter chuckled softly, finally relaxing slightly as he nodded. "Yeah, she’s, uh... really into glitter-based revenge."

Flash let out a small, disbelieving laugh, shaking his head again. "This day just keeps getting weirder."

MJ smirked slightly, lips quirking upward in amusement. "Best day ever."

---

Inside the gym, Clint desperately tried wiping glitter from his face again, glaring toward the window suspiciously. "I swear, if Y/N is out there filming this—"

Bucky laughed again, shaking his head fondly. "Oh, I'm sure she’s got at least three different angles recorded by now."

Sam groaned loudly again, slumping down in defeat. "This glitter’s never coming off, is it?"

Natasha shrugged lightly, clearly unbothered. "Loki’s magic glitter? Probably not for days."

Steve smiled faintly, turning back to his boxing bag with an amused shake of his head. "Maybe next time, you'll both think twice before messing with Y/N."

Clint sighed dramatically, glaring down at his glitter-coated clothes. "Lesson officially learned. Never again."

Bucky chuckled knowingly, leaning back comfortably. "We both know that's a lie, Barton."

---

Happy turned from the gym window with an exhausted sigh, rubbing his temples tiredly. "Alright, kids, show's over. Let's move along before they decide to drag us into this glitter war."

Peter smiled faintly, glancing back once more at the glitter-covered scene inside the gym before following Ned and MJ down the hallway.

Flash walked quietly beside him, clearly still processing everything he'd witnessed. After a long moment, he finally spoke, voice hesitant. "Hey, Parker? Uh, your life is really weird."

Peter laughed softly, nodding gently. "Yeah. You have no idea."

Ned grinned broadly, nudging Peter playfully. "Best day ever, man. Best. Day. Ever."

MJ sighed dramatically, casually flipping open her sketchbook again. "Let's hope glitter removal isn't contagious."

Peter smiled warmly, finally feeling fully relaxed for the first time all day. Despite the chaos and embarrassment, he had to admit—today was definitely turning out better than he'd expected.

---

Back in your lab, you sat back happily, giggling softly as you watched the live footage on your tablet—Sam and Clint still frantically rubbing at the endless glitter.

Tony walked casually into the room, raising an eyebrow knowingly when he noticed your mischievous expression. "Let me guess—glitter?"

You grinned innocently, turning your tablet around to show him proudly. "Magic glitter. Loki’s specialty."

Tony laughed warmly, shaking his head fondly. "Nice touch, kid."

You beamed proudly, giggling again as you glanced back at the glitter-filled chaos. "Best prank yet."

Tony chuckled softly, squeezing your shoulder gently. "Just promise you'll give them a break tomorrow?"

You tilted your head thoughtfully, smirking slightly. "We'll see."

Tony smiled fondly, rolling his eyes warmly. "Alright, evil genius. I’ll leave you to it."

You grinned mischievously again, settling back comfortably in your chair. "Thanks, Dad."

As Tony walked away, you returned your attention happily to the glittery chaos on your tablet, already mentally planning your next prank. Life in Stark Tower was certainly never boring—and you wouldn't have it any other way.

[disgustingtwitches]

MDNI

Working at a restaurant with 141! (pt.2)

As the weeks went on, Gaz and Soap would constantly try to pull you into the walk-in. But Simon's stare made you stop dead in your tracks every time. You've resorted to going over to their place, it's always a surprise who's gonna end up on top of who. During breaks between rounds, you'll catch up on a show you were all watching or playing video games and eating snacks. It's light, fun, young, energetic.

"The boys keeping you satisfied?"

Price asks during one of your smoke breaks, he's leaning against the railing again. Your eyes dart to the floor, embarrassed.

"I could take proper care of you."

The words drip from his mouth and run up your legs, making you squirm. He chuckles, a deep rumble from his broad chest.

"I'll pick you up 7 tonight."

Flicks the butt of his cigar onto the wet cement before walking back into the kitchen. Your hand shakes as you finish your cigarette.

The outing was nice, he took you out on a real date. You wore a tasteful dress that he was obsessed with the moment he saw you in it.

Made you order something expensive from the menu.

"Gotta keep you well fed, hm?"

You couldn't argue with him, he held an air of authority even outside of the kitchen. Conversation was pleasant, he kept it appropriate. Actually, that whole time he was an absolute gentleman. Walked you up to your flat. You gave him an anxious kiss that made him laugh softly and you quickly slipped into your studio. You pressed your back to the door, heart pounding. You squinted through the peephole and watched as he turned around, walking away. As soon as you swung your door open, he was stepping inside your place and scooping you up. He gripped your ass while holding you up, his hands positioned in a way that allowed him to rub your folds through the thin fabric of your dress.

"Already wet? Knew you'd be a good girl for me."

You melted in his arms at those words. Gently laid you right on the bed, pulling back to slip off your heels and left kisses from your ankle to inner thigh. He moaned when you giggled from his beard brushing against your soft thighs.

"Fuckin dogs, markin you up like your theirs."

His lips grazed over the hickeys Gaz and Soap left on your hips and thighs. He pulled the dress up and over your shoulders.

"Those sexy fuckin eyes of yours, Christ."

He kneeled over you, taking you in. Your moans, touch, smell, all that was left was your taste. He sunk back down between your legs and had you coming faster and harder than Soap or Gaz. He was down there for hours, only coming up to briefly cram his thick dick into your tight hole just long enough to leave you being for more when he pulled out. So much restraint he had. Only reason he finally finished was because he had to get up early tomorrow. Painted your sore walls with thick ropes of his spend,

"G'na take it all like a good girl, yeah?"

He held your face to muffle your moans with his mouth while he finished pumping into you. Wouldn't even clean you up, just gently pushed whatever leaked out of you back inside. Then he held you close and fell asleep, effectively trapping you in his arms. He ends up driving you to work the next day, taking you in early so he can prep with Ghost. Simon seems more grumpy than usual (it's because he's the one who's supposed to drive you to work, creature of habit he is).

"I'll let you pick her up next time. Don't get mad at me for being a gentleman."

Price sighs while portioning out meat. You swear you see Simon huff.

The drive home was silent as usual, but there was a tension that wasn't present before. Sure, there's been an uneasy or awkward air in the car before, but this was different. You needed it to stop being quiet.

"...sorry for not telling you about John taking me today."

You sat on your hands, staring at the veiny hand gripping the gear lever.

"S'alright, he told me."

His tone was unreadable as ever. He parked in front of your building, looking at you with those dark, intense eyes. You shifted uncomfortably, about to open your mouth to say something.

"G'night."

He interrupted, you nod and step out of his car to your door. You fumble with your keys and turn around to invite him in, he's already locking his car door and headed towards you. Oh fuck.

He doesn't even let you take your shoes off, just flops you onto the edge of the bed and haphazardly pulls down your jeans and underwear, folding you in half.

"Open."

He grunts, shoving two fingers into your mouth, getting them slick with your spit. He roughly fingers your sweet spot until you are overwhelmed with pleasure, then he undoes his pants. You gasp. Literally gasp at the sight of his length.

"That's not going in me."

You blink at him. He looks at you, stroking himself.

"Alright."

He shrugs before slapping his shaft on your wet folds, then rubbing himself against you. He goes at this for what seems like forever, occasionally his tip catches in your entrance before he slides out and continues to grind against you. It's maddening. Finally, you break and beg for him to slide himself in. He does so with no hesitation or concern for your poor walls. Bullies his way inside you until you physically can't take anymore and pounds into you ruthlessly. He covers your mouth with a rough hand while the other toys with your nub. You squeal, yelp, moan. It's all muffled; only to be heard by his ears.

"Atta girl, takin it like a champ."

You were barely keeping it together, each hit to your cervix made you see stars. It hurt. It was heaven. Your eyes rolled back.

"Don't look away from me."

He grabbed your face, making you stare right into his brown eyes. That's what pushed you over the edge, he rode out your orgasm before reaching his. Your heavy breaths filled the room. That's when he finally decides to pull off your shoes and pants. He was surprisingly good at aftercare, made you both some tea (why did he know where everything was?), wiped you down, and put on some cooking competition show. He was into it. Very into it.

"How do you fuck up beurre monté?"

He says to himself, shaking his head while the contestant on TV cried about messing up a sauce. It goes on like this for a while, shitting on chefs choices and mistakes. Your stomach rumbles, he looks at you. Offers to make something. You remember how the food at the restaurant gets sent back. A lot. Decline politely. He walks to the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge and cabinets. You'd say something, but you know you can't stop him. Twenty minutes later he hands you a plate,

"Shakshuka."

It looks...edible. He sits at the end of your bed, eating and watching his show. You take a spoonful into your mouth. Fucking delicious.

"Best I could do with what you had."

He made himself home, slept like he paid the bills, splayed out and snored louder than a Harley. Pinned you right under his arm, mouth right next to your ear. You barely get any sleep.

The next day you drag your feet back and forth from the kitchen.

"Fuckin hell Simon, you kept her up all night?"

John shook his head, burning another steak. Simon grunted, plating the meat and placing it on the window. You served the food to the customer and walked back to the kitchen.

"That's my hoodie."

Soap pointed at Ghost. It was obviously Soap's, they were both well built but Simon's arms and chest stretched the fabric.

"So?"

Simon shrugged, sweeping the floor.

"So? I gave it to her."

"S'fine, she has enough of your shit."

Soap looked at you, betrayed. You shrug, you were too tired to even notice what Simon was wearing.

"Didnae ye notice yer favorite hoodie was gone?"

He looked at you, eyes sad and blindingly blue.

"Give it a rest Johnny."

"'But it's 'er favorite. Right bonnie?"

You nod (you don't have a favorite, but obviously he needs this) and he sighs in relief, smile plastered on his face. Pesters Simon to give him back the hoodie.

"Keep it somewhere safe, aye?"

He hands it to you, holding it like it was a damn fabergé egg.

While Simon and you were walking to his car, Kyle and Johnny run after you, insisting on seeing your place,

"What, only they get to see your flat? It's not fair."

So puerile, Ghost rolled his eyes.

They oohed and aahed at your flat, fawning over your decor. You're thankful for splurging on a king sized mattress. Gaz slept like an angel, but Johnny? Even in his sleep he was restless, kicking and talking. You make a note not to have Ghost and him over at the same time.

Two days later, Johnny almost drops to his knees when he sees Simon in your 'favorite hoodie' again.

[thehorrorgirlstyles]

Make you Scream

Billy Loomis x reader

Summary: You find out your boyfriend is Ghostface, which should scare you, instead it turns you on even more.

Warnings: Blood, Violence, sexual content, 18+ themes, swearing, foreplay, knife-play, mature themes, sex, reader is in denial

________________________________________________

"It's gotta be him right, I mean in a horror movie, it's always the person closet to you that turns out to be a fucking killer, I'm telling you man" Randy says to you as you both walk down the hallway of your school.

"Randy for the last time, Billy... who is my boyfriend as you know, is not a fucking killer.. trust me I know him better than anyone else... and besides if he was Ghostface I don't think he would be able to hide it from me" You reply, holding you books closer to your chest.

It's been a week since news of Casey and Steve's murders and Randy won't stop coming up with ideas on who the mystery killer is. First he pointed fingers at you because you never liked the girl, which he claims is a perfect motive. You don't like half the people at your school, but they're all still alive, so his reasoning is invalid. Now, he's claiming it's your boyfriend, which you think is ridiculous, I mean why is he naming all the people in your friend group for starters, you guys are friends for crying out loud.

"I don't know man Billy is pretty scary looking" He says opening the door to the library.

You walk in and drop the books off, "Well I think he looks sexy"

"Gross"

"Can we stop talking about Ghostface now, you know Stu is hosting a party tonight, you going?" You ask him.

"Yeah right, the killer will probably show up there, a bunch of drunk, not to mention high teens that probably won't notice if someone gets stabbed...but yeah I'll be there".

You roll your eyes at his dramatics.

------------------------------------------------------

After you left Randy, you went to grab a book you forgot in your locker. You decided to go now since everyone was in class and the halls would be empty.

You turn the corner and run straight into a hard figure. You look up to quickly apologize, but see no other than Ghostface himself. You gasp in shock and back away quickly, your heart starting to race.

Ghostface stares at you, mocking your movements. You see him pull out a knife from behind him. He looks at it and runs his fingers along the blade, toying with you. Quickly, you run past him and reach the stairs towards the main entrance of the school, but he's quicker. He grabs your arm, halting you from going down and pulls you backwards, your back meeting his chest. You try to break free, but he slices at your arm, the knife cutting into your shoulder. You scream out and fight against him.

He brings the knife up to your throat and pushes against it, cutting just enough to draw blood. You close your eyes, thinking this is your final moments and you curse yourself for not putting up more of a fight, but it never comes. He stays still, holding the knife against your throat, but not going deeper. You open your eyes and look up at him, but he's looking off to the side. What is he distracted by? You don't stay to think as you use this as a time to escape, you push at his arms and he lets go without putting up a fight. You didn't realize how easily he would let you go, as you were close to the edge of the stairs. You trip out of his arms and your foot skips a step, making you tumble down the stairs.

When you reach the bottom of the stairs, your vision goes black and you can faintly make out two voices arguing.

--------------------------------------------------------

When you wake up, you feel your head pounding. You take in your surroundings and try to make sense of where you are. You look around the room and see your boyfriend sitting in a sit next to you, his face in his hands.

"Billy?" You rasp out.

He immediately looks up at you and rushes over to your side.

"Y/n, how are you feeling, are you okay?" He grabs your hand and goes to touch your hair.

"Yeah, I-I'm okay, are we at a hospital?" You ask leaning into his touch.

"You fell down the stairs, I found you and called the ambulance"

"Oh my God, I remember now..Billy the killer he was trying to kill me!.. He was at the school!"

He looks off to the side like he's angry at something, "I'm dealing with it, but uh- the doctor said you should be free to go tonight, your injuries where just minor, nothing serious, they think you weren't looking and tripped"

"That's goods, but the killer...wait what do you mean dealing with it?" You ask, confused by his response.

"Nothing, listen I have to go to Stu's party tonight, are you still up for it?" He ask, moving a stray hair behind your ear.

"Are you serious, I just told you I got attacked by the killer and you want to go to a party?" You look at him in disbelief.

"Trust me nothing's going to happen to you, I'll be by your side at all times... and you don't have to go, but the doctor said you'll be fine, I just really have to go Y/n"

You roll your eyes at him, "Fine, I'll go with you.. I need a drink anyways".

---------------------------------------------------------

After you got cleared from the hospital, you went home to change. Luckily you didn't break anything on the way down the stairs, getting away with the few marks left by Ghostface. Billy was adamant on going to this party, which makes no sense to you. Now that you think about it he didn't seem phased when you mentioned that a literal killer had you in his grasp ready to slice your throat. Weird.

"You look so hot Y/n... I heard what happened at school you okay?" Tatum says to you when she opens the door.

"Thanks, you too and yeah I'm okay it wasn't anything serious" You give her a hug and walk inside, your hands interlocked with Billy's.

"Hey I'm going to grab a drink, you want anything?" You shout to your boyfriend, over the loud music.

"No, I'm fine sweetheart, come straight to me after, don't want anyone slipping something into your drink".

"Ok, meet you by the front" You saying giving him a final kiss on the lips then leaving.

--------------------------------------------------

After you grabbed your drink, you walked back, frowning when you realize that Billy wasn't by the front.

Instead you see Randy by the door, drinking a beer, "Hey Randy, have you seen Billy?"

"I saw him go upstairs" He nods towards the stairs, continuing to drink his beer.

You go to walk upstairs, but he stops you, "Hey what happened at school?"

"What do you mean?...everyone heard that I fell down the stairs".

"Yeah..but like did you fall, or were you pushed?" He asks you, looking dead into your eyes.

You sigh, "It was Ghostface, he tried to kill me at the school, but something distracted him... He let go of me and I missed the step, when I woke up in the hospital Billy was there and he said it was better if I didn't tell the cops anything, that way Ghostface won't come after me anymore".

Randy scoffs, "Don't you see, it is so clearly him.. "don't tell the cops", that's complete bullshit, in what world would you not tell the cops a literal killer came after you?... and your stupid enough to agree with him, HELLO?!"

"Randy, enough with this Ghostface shit, I know you think it's Billy, but its not and if I was pushed down the stairs, it wouldn't be by him.. I do think it's a little weird he didn't seen phased by it, but I trust him.. he probably just didn't want to scare me into thinking Ghostface was going to come after me again and besides I'm pretty fine, just a few scratches".

"Whatever, you're either in serious denial or your a complete fucking idiot, I'm leaving.. call me later, if you're still alive be then" He grabs the door handle and walks out, slamming it shut.

You think that maybe Randy's right, even though he could have worded it nicer. I mean you were just in a hospital a few hours ago and now you're at a party?!

You brush off Randy's words and start to head upstairs. You pause when you get to the top, hearing hushed voices.

"I'm going to fucking kill you!..Why the hell would you go after Y/n.. when was that part of the plan?"

"You're going to kill Tatum, why can't I kill Y/n?"

"Uhh- maybe because Y/n is my girlfriend dumbass".

"Tatum is my girlfriend!"

"Yeah, but Tatum is just a means to an end, we actually want Y/n alive because I love her!"

"Whatever I'm going to go talk to Tatum before you kill her!"

Just as he stops talking, your phone starts to ring. Shit! You hurry up and try to turn it off seeing that it's Randy. This man has perfect timing.

"What the fuck was that?" Stu asks.

Before you can leave, a tall figure appears from around the corner. Billy stares at you, his facial expression unreadable. Your heart drops.

"Well What is it?" Stu asks.

He continues to stare at you for a minute before answering, "It's nothing, someone was probably at the bottom of the stairs".

You don't wait to hear Stu's reply and hurry down the stairs. WHAT THE FUCK?! Randy was right this whole time, Billy is ghostace? Stu is ghostface? THERE ARE TWO GHOSTFACE?!

"Y/n!" Someone calls your name.

You look behind you and see Billy standing by the stairs, he nods his head, wanting you to follow him upstairs. This is dumb right? You shouldn't go upstairs BY YOURSLEF with someone you know is a killer. You should call the police and turn both of them in.

You follow Billy upstairs. He leads you to one of the guest bedrooms, opening the door for you. You walk in first and he closes the door behind you, locking it.

You face him, waiting for him to speak. He smiles at you, shaking his head, "Why were you on the stairs?"

"I was looking for you".

"Hmmm, and you found me" He chuckles. "What did you hear?" he asks, walking closer to you.

You back up, your legs hitting the side of the bed, "Nothing".

"Mmmh, okay... Do I scare you?" He closes the gap between you.

"No".

He nods at your answer and he reaches behind himself, pulling a knife out of his pocket. He holds it up and quickly grabs you, applying pressure to your neck. You gasp at his quick movements.

"And what about now?" He says adding pressure, but not enough to actually hurt you.

"No".

"No? I don't make you scare sweetheart, even after you know what I have done, the people I've killed?"

"No".

You don't know why, but you're finding this to be extremly hot. Billy threatening you with a knife, but knowing that he would never hurt you. Maybe you're just sick in the head, after all your boyfriend is a murder, you shouldn't feel this way, but you do. Maybe it's because of all the dark romance books you have been reading or maybe it's because you love him too much that you can cast away his flaws. You should probably call the cops, but instead you rub your legs together, the friction does nothing to ease your aching cunt.

Billy catches the movement without his eyes, and groans when he sees what you're doing, "You're enjoying this?".. "You're more sick than I am, what a dirty whore you are" He chuckles out.

You moan, "Billy pleasee, I-I just need you".

"You want it baby?" he guides the knife over the top of your chest.

"Please, Mr. Ghostface".

His eyes darkenen in response as he halts his movement, looking at you. He grabs at you quickly and slices your top open with the knife, exposing your breast. The cold meets your chest, your nipples hardening. He looks down at your breast and moves his mouth to meet your bud. He licks and flicks at it with his tongue. He moves up to your neck and laps at it, leaving marks. You moan and wrap your arms around his neck, encouraging him to continue his bitting.

When he finishes attacking your neck, he picks you up and throws you on the bed. You gasp as your back meets the mattress. He gets on top of you and starts to undo his belt.

"Turn around and get on all fours" He tells you, slapping your cheek.

You listen to him and flip over on your stomach. After he gets his pants off, he flips your skirt over, exposing your bare cunt.

"You didn't wear anything underneath?" He asks in shock, but he quickly turns unfazed.

"Always prepared for me huh sweetheart" He pulls your legs closer to his hip and you can feel just how hard he is. He rubs his tip against your entrance, making you grow wetter by the second. Without warning he pushes his length past your folds. Making you scream out. You quickly adjust to his big size, the pain turning into pleasure.

He snaps his hips back and forth. Your whines egg him on as he continues to fuck into you ruthlessly not caring if you can take it. He doesn't let you gather your breath, each movement your face pushes more into the sheets. You cry out, but it's muffled by the sheets. He repeatedly hits your g-spot, making you cry out even more.

"Fuck, look at you making a mess on my cock, you're a fifthly little thing aren't you?" He pulls you up, your back meeting his chest, waiting for you to answer him.

"Only for you Billy~" You whine out, tears forming in your eyes from the pleasure.

He pushes you back down into the sheets, his movements continuing, "That's right baby, you're mine, my dirty slut, my pussy to fuck, my cunt to cum in".

You feel his dick twitch inside of you, knowing that he is close. You moan out his name, begging for him to fuck into you faster. He listens, his pace picking up. Your wet pussy hugs his dick, clenching around it tightly.

"Fuck, Y/n..I'm gonna cum, you feel so good... so wet for me baby"

You moan in response, as you feel yourself getting closer and closer. With one final snap of his hips you clench down on his cock, causing him to reach his climax too.

"Fuckk~" He pulls your body closer to him, making sure that his dick is fully inside you as far as it can go. You feel his cum painting your walls as he comes undone. He collapses on top of you, his dick twitching inside of you. When you both calm down from your highs, he flips you over, pulling your naked body on top of his.

After you both finish, you lay on the bed together. He holds you to his chest and strokes your hair. You look up at him and he grins at you. You reach up to meet his lips. He kisses you back immediately, humming into the kiss. After a while, you pull back and look up at him, meeting his eyes.

"Please don't kill Tatum, I like her".

He chuckles, "Whatever you want baby".

[a-b-riddle]

Part Five

Can't stop thinking about the attempt of reconciliation and reader ain't having it. Our girl is going to be wilddddd y'all. Also goodnight. See y'all tomorrow (maybe)

You call Meredith when you get home.

You. Are. Fuming. She's not sure she can ever remember a time you using so many swear words at one time.

How fucking dare them? Immature? You're the immature one? You were the one trying your best to salvage four failing relationship meanwhile none of those assholes could be bothered to try and keep one. They had one person to manage: you.

"I wanna go out this weekend." "Wear something tight and borderline risk indecent exposure."

"You know what I always say," Meredith begins. "The best way to get over someone-"

"is to get under someone else." You finish. You weren't exactly keen on the idea of bringing someone to your bed just yet, but a little attention would do you some good. "I don't want to fuck someone just yet." You admitted. "I'm more on the getting drunk and making out."

"I didn't know we resorted back secondary school heavy petting?" She teased.

"University, Dear." You corrected. "I didn't peak until after I graduated."

"No." She argued. "You didn't put your books down long enough to realize that boys actually wanted to fuck you." You were glad she couldn't see you roll your eyes. "Saturday work for you? I have a late night Friday and won't be up for it."

"That works."

"Sorry." She apologized. "I plan on getting you absolutely smashed so I need to be ready to play the nanny. I know how you love to get drunk and run off."

It was true. You had always found it hilarious when you were drunk to just run. Quite literally run away. It got to a point during university where Meredith would handcuff you to her so you didn't stray.

"I won't run." Your sober mind promised.

"Uh huh." Meredith's tone told you that she knew that was a load of shit. "I'll text Tabs. Let her know the plan."

The next day at the shop was pretty uneventful. No more unexpected visitors. You still had them all blocked. Not caring if now they decided to offer up some bullshit apology.

Months. This had been a steady decline for six months. A text or a simply sorry won't fix this. You weren't sure anything could.

But it didn't matter. You were done and they obviously were too.

You had picked up enough take out to feed a family, but you didn't plan on making your lunch before work or cooking when you got home. The rest of the week you planned on just going through the motions until you could go out Saturday and hopefully get everything out.

You weren't paying attention as you walked down the hallway to your flat. Fishing in your purse for keys. You were at almost at your door when you saw him.

Sitting next to your door was a familiar face. A face you felt you haven't seen in forever.

“What are you doing here, Kyle?" Your voice was flat as you continued to blindly try and find your keys with one hand. Fuck. You really need to clean out your purse...

“My key wouldn’t work.” He explained. "So I’m out here.”

"I'm aware why you're not in my apartment since I changed the locks," you said, trying to keep your irritation at bay. "What I am asking is why did you come here?"

"You won't return any of our messages."

"You're all blocked, so technically I didn't really get any messages." "Besides, you don't get to complain to me about not responding to texts, Kyle Garrick." Your fingers finally wraps around them. God bless. "If you're here for your things, it'll have to wait. I have to sort through everyone's shit and I don't know whose is whose."

"We need to talk." He explains as you put the key into the lock, opening the door.

"Nah," you say scrunching your nose in that way he used to adore. "I'm good. But you can swing by tomorrow and pick up your things if you'd like." You say before trying to shut the door on him. You were stupid in thinking you could be faster than him.

Dammit.

"I know things haven't been good and I've definitely could have been better,'' he admits. "But can you at least try and let us apologize? Let us try and work it out."

"No." You answered, trying to close the door. Not caring if you had to resort to kicking his shins to get him out.

"Why not?" He countered.

“Maybe because I've already tried, Kyle?” You gave up on trying to shut him out. You were strong, but he didn't have any issues in besting you. “Because I actually tried with you. With all of you. You didn’t need to come here giving me excuses about your life being hectic because I’ve made the excuses for you.” You didn't miss how he practically flinched. He had always blamed his busy life. Family. Work. You stopped caring about whatever excuse he gave you and realized it was just that. An excuse. “I’ve been telling myself for months that everything you guys didn’t do for me wasn’t because you didn’t care about me. It was because of the stress of your deployments is the reason none of you tell me when you get back from until it’s time to fuck. I tell myself it’s because of the fucked up situation of me being with all of you that makes it awkward to meet your families. Families you all have that I now know I’m not worthy of meeting.” He wanted to correct you. You were. You were worthy. He was an idiot. “It’s not that I need your excuses to make me feel like what you did was justified. No matter what it was, it was apparently to you because you did it.”

He took a step back, processing everything you had said. He had been selfish. You were the reliable constant in his life. Someone he believed he never disappointed. Someone he couldn't disappoint no matter how many times he fucked up.

You took the opportunity to slam the door. Quickly turning the lock before he had a chance to open it back up.

God...

That felt good.

You had spent that evening collecting their thing in case Kyle did show back up tomorrow. You wouldn't make their lives easier by sorting all their shit and organizing it. Everything. One box. Let them figure it out. You almost had a mind to add a shirt that you knew didn't belong to any of them just to have them argue over it. Or least make them think there was someone else...

You were almost tempted if not for the premise that you wanted them to realize this was their fault. Their fuck up. But now that you were officially all broken up, you were free game.

[rin-may-1103]

The Eyes of Death.

This story is mostly inspired by Jaybirbie's prompt | Master post | Next

"Hey, sweetheart?" Danny called, quickly jotting down the last sentence for his paper. He'd have to remember to go back and reread it and make sure he didn't trail off into another tangent. He swears he wasn't this bad at managing his ADHD back in Amity...

"Yes, Danny?" Damian asked, turning back from the door to face him as he scrolled further down the story he was reading. The familiar font of Gotham City's gazette blurred as a picture of Mr. Freeze and Penguin finally loaded. So that's what was going on. Danny should have known; the bats already dealt with the other usual rouges, and these two were next on the list.

"Can you walk with me? I just know Nancy and her boyfriend are out there, waiting. I really don't want to deal with them again... We could spend more time at my place? Tucker sent me another movie, and I'm unsure if I should watch it alone after last time." Danny pleaded, quickly shoving all of his papers into his bag. He'd deal with straightening them out later, it wasn't like his professors weren't used to his wrinkled essays at this point.

However, he should probably redo the blueprints for Workshop. Mr. Anthlow was a hardass, but nothing could compare to his anger when a student handed in wrinkled blueprints; he claimed he wasn't going to have another 'Tanner' incident on his watch, whatever the heck that meant.

He was not looking forward to whatever Nancy wanted to talk to him about, she looked excited. Which could only mean bad things for him; considering the last time she was excited, he ended up spending time with Bane of all people. And there was no way her boyfriend was just going to let Danny get away again.

Damian grimaces, finally looking up and away from his phone. "I'm sorry beloved..." he held up the device just in time to show an incoming text from his Father, "I promised Father I'd be home a while ago. And with what's happening down on-"

"It's ok, I'll just head out the back door," Danny cut in, seeing the start of guilt on his boyfriend's face. He knew how much Danny hated having to deal with those two, and the fact Damian hasn't been able to even introduce himself to them hasn't helped. With a smile, Danny scooped up his textbooks and made his way to stand in front of Damian, "They can't bother me if they don't see me!"

Unsurprisingly, Danny could feel the guilt grow and start to float around Damian as the boy glanced at his phone, the message tone sounding out again in warning.

Danny only met Damian's father once; it was just a simple shake of hands and sharing names before the man ran off, but it did leave an impression. The man felt tired and paranoid; like, to the point Danny kind of wanted to drag Jazz over and lock the two of them in a room, paranoid. (Danny wants to say he's never seen someone that paranoid, but he'd be lying. He looks in the mirror after all.)

The point is; Danny's only met the man once, but that was enough for him to know that the man would tear down the world if he thought for even a second that one of his kids was in danger. This meant, that if Damian didn't go and reassure his father that he was alive and safe within the next sixty or so seconds, then there was a possibility that there wouldn't be another date for at least another week.

And considering this "study date" was supposed to make up for the last one Damian had missed because of his Father? Yeah, Danny wasn't going to be happy if Damian got grounded or dragged into another 'surprise' family road trip because his father was convinced his children would be dead before the 'yearly' planned get-together in November.

They had a trip to the zoo planned for tomorrow, and Delilah was supposed to be allowed out with her kids. This would be Delilah's first public outing since her kids' birth. There's no way Danny was going to allow Damian to miss that. (he swears to the ancients, if there was a rouge attack he was going to kill someone, Dark Dan's future be damned.)

Lifting his heels off the ground so he could stand on his tiptoes, Danny snagged Damian's arm and pulled him down so he could kiss his cheek. "I'll get home safe, just focus on keeping your dad from going insane. We've got a date at the zoo tomorrow and we're not missing it even if your father becomes the next city rogue."

Damian wrapped his arms around Danny, trapping him in a hug as he sighed in fond frustration. "I promise I won't miss it, ok? I'll be there."

Danny rolled his eyes and pushed Damian back, dropping back to stand on the ground, "You better, 'cause hell hath no fury like a gorilla denied the chance to meet her human best friend's boyfriend."

Damian snorted, before looking away and pretending to cough. Danny moved his textbooks to rest more securely in one of his arms, so he could point at his boyfriend. "I'm not kidding, if I show up tomorrow and tell her all about my life and you're not there, she will break out and track you down. I won't stop her either, you'd deserve whatever she does to you."

"Alright, alright. I get it, and I already promised I'd be there didn't I?" Damian chuckled, raising his hands up in surrender. Which would have been cute if it wasn't for the fact that his phone went off again, this time in an insistent buzzing. His eldest brother's ringtone; which meant Damian was going to be busy for a while.

Cursing, Damian turned and answered, "I'm in the middle of something, this better be important Grayson," glancing back at Danny, he mouthed for him to wait a moment as his brother started talking.

Smiling, Danny shook his head, snatched Damian's jacket, and started making his way out the door. There was no way Damian would finish this phone call any time soon. Danny's learned not to wait after the last four times this happened. Damian turned back with betrayed eyes, but the urgent voice of his brother buzzing even louder held him back. Waving goodbye with a smile, Danny shut the door and started making his way down the hall.

He'd have to ask Damian what happened tomorrow, Grayson didn't usually call him, especially when he knew Damian was spending time with Danny. He said it had something to do with how it was sacrilege to interrupt time spent with a significant other. Danny had wanted to ask him more about it but hadn't gotten the chance when The Riddler crashed their spontaneous meeting.

Speaking of The Riddler, Danny's social science paper wasn't looking too hot right now. He'd have to block out a time for him to work on that at some point this week. He wasn't doing anything on Friday, well, besides his early morning classes. That should work...

"Hey, Danny!" someone called, pulling him out of his musing. Glancing up, Danny internally groaned when he noticed Nancy waving at him in sheer delight. Giving her a half-hearted wave, Danny sped up and continued making his way to the back of the library. If he was quick enough maybe he could-

To his dismay, Nancy's boyfriend stepped out from behind one of the shelves and latched onto his arm. Tightly.

Just great, this is exactly what he wanted to avoid. Curse his inability to pay attention when he got lost in thought. Damn ADHD. Blasted non-existent spatial awareness. This was what he got for relying on his ghost sense, he just knows it.

"She said hi, kind of rude of you to just keep walking, Kid." Wyatt huffed, roughly dragging Danny back and towards his girlfriend. Nancy smiled brightly as Wyatt let him go, allowing Nancy to weave her arm with Danny's and practically drag him toward the front of the building.

"There's this big party going on tonight, some Jr invited us. He said it was going to be a night to remember! You should totally come with us, Danny! My friend Shela said she was bringing her nerdy freshmen too! I just know you'd fit right in with them!" Nancy squealed excitedly, shaking Danny as they finally made it to the front doors.

One of the desk attendants rolled their eyes at them as Danny glanced over, hoping that Barbara might intervene. No such luck, she was nowhere in sight, probably off somewhere shelving books. So much for that plan.

"uh, thanks, but I already-" Danny tried, stopping when Nancy scoffed and yanked him out the door and into the frosty night. "Damn, it's cold!" Wyatt cursed, taking his jacket off and quickly handing it over to Nancy. She let go of Danny and pulled it on, then stared at Danny for a moment, "Put your coat on Danny, no way in hell am I letting my kid catch a cold!"

Rolling his eyes, Danny wrapped Damian's coat over his shoulders. He was too lazy to actually put it on, not when that meant handing his textbooks over. The last time he did that, Nancy got bored and started doodling all over them. (how she had managed to do that in the little time it took to put a hoodie on, Danny wasn't sure.)

"I just want to go home, Nancy. I'm not really a party person." Danny sighed, allowing Nancy to drag him down the dark streets. His apartment was in this general direction anyway. Nancy turned to her boyfriend with a huff, "Wyatt! make him come with us!"

"Let the nerd do what he wants, it's not like it affects us if he kicks the bucket all alone," Wyatt grumbled, rolling his eyes.

Ouch, but true. Please listen to your grumpy boyfriend, please listen to your grumpy boyfriend, please listen-

"But Shela said she was bringing Carly!" Nancy turned back to Danny, a pout clear on her face, "You two would be so cute together! she's nerdy just like you! And she's totally into all those murder mystery shows you watch!"

Damn it. Not this crap again.

"That's nice, Nancy, but I'm not interested. I already told you guys, I have a boyfriend," Danny sighed, trying to gently extract his arm from hers; for a human, Nancy sure had one heck of a grip.

"Yeah, right," Wyatt snorted, patting Danny's back, completely ignoring the fact that Danny was literally wearing someone else's jacket. "We'll believe you when you introduce us, until then. You're a virgin loser."

And there we go, people; the reason Danny wanted to crawl into the sewer and die whenever he saw these two. They were nice, don't get him wrong, but they were also stubborn idiots.

"Being a virgin has nothing to do with my relationship status, Wyatt. I'm ace. you've known this since the first time we talked." Danny grumbled, allowing Nancy to drag him down another street. He wasn't sure exactly where they were going now, but he was too tired to care at this point.

If these self-claimed 'Parents' of his wanted to drag him to this stupid party, then fine. Whatever. It's not like Danny had any other plans tonight anyway.

"Asexuality isn't a thing man," Wyatt huffed, speeding up so he could guide them in the right direction now that they were heading into a rougher patch of buildings. Danny could see the man was shivering, though trying to act tough in front of Nancy. Smirking, Danny sent a cold breeze his way. The man scowled up at the sky, cursing quietly.

"Yeah!" Nancy agreed, smiling brightly down at Danny without a care in the world. Like they didn't have this conversation every other week. "You just haven't met the right person yet, Danny! And I know how awkward it is to admit that you're staying celibate until marriage, but you don't have to hide it behind being ace."

Taking a deep breath, Danny closed his eyes and focused on not shouting out of frustration. The celibate comment was new, the acephobia, not so much. "Ok, first of all; Asexuality is a thing, which many people ARE. Literally, 1% of the world is ace. That's over 70 million people. Second of all, I'm not celibate, and I'm not sure if you even know what that means, considering you know I was raised Atheist."

"What does being an Atheist have to do with celibacy?" Nancy asked, tilting her head to look at him. Danny groaned, smacking his forehead against his textbooks. He was NOT going to explain this to them tonight.

"You know what, Nancy? It doesn't matter." Danny huffed, trying again to gently pry her hands off. He wanted to go home. He wanted to cuddle with his boyfriend. He wanted to go back to Amity. Maybe go to the realms and play with Cujo. He did NOT want to deal with these idiots.

Wyatt stopped walking and turned to face them, rolling his eyes as Nancy pouted at Danny. "Come on babe, let the loser go. He obviously doesn't appreciate your efforts."

"but who else is going to convince him to live a little? He's just going to go back to his apartment and sulk by himself!" Nancy cried, tightening her grip again.

"Who cares what the kid does, Nancy? let the dude die a virgin loser. Now let's go, we're already late as is."

"But I really want him to-," Nancy tried, cutting herself off, as both she and Danny spotted a cloaked person appear out of the shadows behind Wyatt.

Wyatt lifted his brow before slowly turning to see what the two of them were staring at. The cloaked figure suddenly whacked him over the head with a metal pole before he could fully turn around. Wyatt's body dropped to the ground with a heavy thump, making Nancy scream, "Wyatt!"

Shit, Danny stepped back, trying to pull Nancy with him as the cloak dude tossed the metal pole to the side with a loud clank. Which was confusing, why would he through away his weapon?

"Shut her up!" the cloak dude cried, bending down to grab Wyatt's arms. He better not be telling Danny to do that, because that would just be stupid and- Suddenly, a dozen more cloaked people flooded out of the darkness and surrounded them. That answered Danny's questions at least.

Danny tensed up as a couple of the people tried to grab onto him. Quickly pulling Nancy back, successfully this time, Danny glanced around to try and find an exit. He couldn't do anything crazy right now, not unless he wanted to give away his secret, but some self-defense should be fine.

Nancy suddenly let go of his arm and smacked one of the cloaked people in the face, "Don't you fucking dare touch me! Wyatt! Kid, get out of here!"

Danny turned to her in alarm, eyes wide in horror as she quickly disappeared into the cloaked crowd. Another cloaked person managed to latch onto Danny's shoulder, reminding him to focus on his situation. Quickly stepping back, he slammed into the man grabbing him, knocking his grip loose. Ducking under another attempt, Danny swung out his leg and tripped the dude into two others.

Twisting to try and make his way over to where he figured Nancy was, Danny dropped his textbooks and punched someone in the face. Damian's jacket was yanked off his shoulders, making him turn with a growl. Punching another person in the face, Danny lunged at the group.

"Hurry! before the bats find us!" the supposed leader cried, making even more cloaked people surround Danny. There was no way a normal civilian would be able to fight their way out of this, so Danny would have to allow himself to be caught soon. Only after biting and scratching the fuck out of them though. Just because he had to let them catch him, doesn't mean he has to make it easy.

~30 min later

Danny stared at the leader as the man droned on and on about needing the right sacrifice for the ritual to work. Nancy and Wyatt grumbled behind him, agreements from the other kidnapped victims filling Danny's ears like bees.

"The sacrifice shall be the one who treads the veil between life and death, the one who's beloved by the spirits as their own! He shall be pale as a corpse, his body kissed by death many times throughout his life. His hair as black as the sky on a moonless night, cradled by the moon since birth." Mr. totally-read-one-fake-ritual-book-when-he-was-a-teen-and-now-has-to-make-it-everyone's-problem droned on dramatically, reverently dragging his finger down the old dusty tome's page,

"so Mr. Wayne?" Nancy huffed, pressing her back into Danny's side. Wyatt chuckled, shoving his foot into Danny's knee, "No, it's totally Mr. Drake he's talking about. Have you seen that dude's eyebags? they make him look like a ghost."

One of the strangers leaned over, rolling their eyes, "No, it's got to be Mr. Dent. The dude's literally half living half not."

"No, Two-Face is half insane, half burnt chicken. Ain't nothing about him going to please ghosts. He was a fucking lawyer, for Christ shake." another guy added.

"the dude said 'he' which crossed out half of y'all," Danny added, glancing at the group around him. The women blinked and then rolled their eyes; only in Gotham would they get kidnapped and not actually be needed.

"Assholes," Nancy huffed, she glanced over her shoulder and down at him, her face set into a frown, "You good, kid? you're like freezing cold."

"I'm fine," Danny huffed, focusing back on the leader. He could just feel the old magic rolling off the book; this was something dangerous, especially in this dipshit's hands. Ancients, he was going to have to do everything he could to keep the man from actually doing the ritual or mess it up if the bats didn't get here in time.

One of the cloaked people suddenly dragged a camera out from a side room, grumbling about networks and livestreams being shit. Huh, well that would definitely help provide their location to the bats. They must be really inexperienced cultists then...

"The sacrifice shall fall into our hands by fate's design. The sacrifice is here and waiting for what his whole life was meant for. Now-"

"Elder!" one of the other cloaked figures cried, waving their phone in the air in excitement. Dread quickly filled Danny's stomach.

"All the bats and birds are busy dealing with those scoundrels they call rouges! If we hurry, we can complete the ritual before they can interfere!"

"Perfect!" Mr. 'Elder', cheered, slamming the tome closed and handing it off to one of the others. "So?" Mr. Elder started, turning to face them with a sharp grin, "Who's it going to be?"

Danny glanced at the group behind him, all of them having gone silent as the cloaked group started pulling out their ritual things, one of which was a very blood-stained knife.

Mr. Elder started circling them, humming and hawing as he studied each one of them. He stopped next to Wyatt, studying him intently.

Quickly weighing his options, Danny straightened up and glared at the man, "I'll be your sacrifice."

Immediately Nancy leaned away from him with a gasp, Wyatt's foot dropping to the floor with a thud. "Danny, no!" Nancy hissed, turning her body so she could face him. Danny didn't glance at her, just continued glaring at the cultist. The cult leader laughed, "Well then. So it shall be! You heard the sacrifice, tie him to the chair!"

With everyone watching, all Danny could do was tense as four of the followers walked over and pulled him up. "No!" Nancy shouted, leaning over and grabbing onto him. Wyatt reached out to Nancy, wanting to pull her back. The men tensed up, ready to interfere. Quickly pulling back, Danny frowned at Nancy and Wyatt, "I'll be ok, just don't do anything stupid!"

They harshly pulled him up and away again, before Nancy could reply. And because he was already pissed off, he made it as difficult for them as possible as they dragged him to the wooden chair. The camera person focused the lens on them, recording it as they shoved him down to sit and wrapped a bloody rope around his limbs.

So much for thinking they were inexperienced... They've done this before, he knows now. How many times? He wasn't sure, but if he had any say in it after tonight, they'd never do it again.

Once he was securely tied to the chair and gagged, because Danny couldn't help himself but insult them, the cultist started preparing the ritual. Why they hadn't done so beforehand, Danny wasn't sure; that is until one of them sliced a deep gash into his right arm and collected his blood into a bowl.

With a grimace, Danny watched as they mixed his blood with black paint and started drawing a circle around him. The camera dude stepped closer and practically shoved the camera into his face. leaning back, Danny glanced between the camera and the people drawing with his blood.

Suddenly, his arm tingled with ectoplasm, making him panic for a second. he can't heal the wound! not with all the people around him and being recorded! Shit, what had Vlad done last time?? Uh, right! core smothering. He could just smother his core to stop his body from healing. Man, acting like a civilian was a pain in the ass.

Glaring up at the camera now that he wasn't as panicked, Danny watched as the dude stepped back, pulled out a paper, and started reading out loud. "GOTHAM! tonight you shall join us as we summon the most powerful being in the world!"

Did he seriously need the paper just to remember that?

The leader stepped forward when the circle was complete, "Now!" His voice echoed around the silent warehouse, startling the other kidnapped victims. The cameraman turned and focused on him, stepping out of the circle altogether. Danny watched the kidnapped people out of the corner of his eye, wanting to make sure they weren't hurt during this whole fiasco.

"Let us begin!" the leader cheered, suddenly gripping Danny's shoulders tightly. "Join me as we summon our lord and savior! The great tyrant of the dead! The embodiment of war and bloodshed! The one named PARIAH DARK! THE HORRIFIC GHOST KING!!!!"

Immediately, Danny was both completely terrified and amused. He had been worried that they were going to try and summon some great evil demon, not the fucking old tyrant. He could fight Pariah any day of the week.

No, what terrified him was the fact that because Danny won the right to the crown by defeating Pariah the first time, he had no idea what this summoning was going to do. Was it going to work like they wanted and summon Pariah? cool, great even. He can deal with that, might have to reveal his ghost powers if the fight got dirty, but nothing too bad.

or was it going to summon him because he was the king, and if so? how? Would that even work considering he's the sacrifice? would he just disappear and reappear? This could lead to a lot of questions Danny was NOT ready to answer. Gaslighting everyone here into believing he could fight Pariah as a 'meta' human would be easy, convincing everyone that he's not the ghost king or a ghost AFTER getting summoned; not so easy.

The leader released Danny from his grip as he walked over and snatched the tome from one of his followers. Snapping the book open, the man started chanting without warning, pointing at random people to notify them when it was their turn to start.

It was like watching a school play; all the student's doing as they were taught as their teacher directed from the side. Cultist A slammed the bowl of leftover blood on the ground, splattering the black remnants all over Danny and the circle. Which was gross, Danny was going to have to burn this shirt, because there was no way he was going to get this stain out. Cultist B tossed salt at Danny a few minutes later, smacking him in the face with the small white crystals. Shaking his head, Danny glared at him. Cultist B threw the salt again.

The leader's smile grew as he continued chanting.

Seven other cultists joined in the chanting, waving their hands up and down as their voices echoed around them. Danny glanced nervously around the warehouse, hoping he'd spot one of the bats. This was being broadcast, they should be on their way at the very least.

After another minute of looking, Danny glanced back at the other kidnapped victims. Nancy was balling her eyes out, burying herself into her boyfriend's chest. Wyatt was staring at him with wide eyes, clearly unsure about what to do. Probably feeling guilty because they both knew the leader was going to choose him. A few others were looking away, clearly fearing for his life. The rest watched on, trying to show him through their actions that they were there with him till the end. (whether he 'died' or not)

It was weird, but Danny had to give it to them; Gothmites were badass. He doubted anyone in Amity besides his friends would have been brave enough to watch what was happening. Even if they didn't know if he would live or not.

His core crackled, making him choke a little as he finally felt the pull of the summoning. Well, that's just great. Shaking his head, Danny tried to clear his throat. The summoning was making him feel weird and he did not appreciate it.

The chanting got louder as one of the people walked up to him, holding the knife in a white-knuckled grasp. Danny eyed it wearily, glancing between it and the rafters above. Where the hell were the bats when he needed them???

The cultist kneeled before him and raised the blade, slamming it down into his chest right as the leader stopped chanting; Danny gasped, more out of surprise than pain as he stared at the knife. The dude gave him no warning that he was going to stab him. Usually, cultists slit people's throats, right? What the fuck was up with stabbing him???

His blood slowly bubbled up and around the knife, slowly staining his shirt red. Yeah, there was no way in the realms he was going to be able to save this shirt now. Man, he had liked this one too.

He could hear Nancy's sobs turn to wails as the cultist yanked out the knife and handed it to the leader, who Danny just now noticed had joined them in the circle. His blood started gushing down his chest with every beat of his heart, again he held back his core. (what does he do now??? faint? scream? how do normal people react to getting stabbed?????)

"Take this lowly sacrifice as a sign of our eternal loyalty, and grace us with your presence! Your humble servants plead that your godly ears hear our prayers! Join us in this mortal realm and bequeath us your power and name to rectify the sins of our brethren!"

Ok, first of all Danny was no where near lowly you piece of fuck-

Danny's core pulsed, sending out nauseating pain up and down his spine. Gasping, Danny leaned as far forward as he could, trying in vain to grasp at his chest without using his powers. His core crackled, striking a blinding flash through his brain. The echoes of his death crawled up his left arm, waking the old dead nerves into firing signals at his brain.

Danny couldn't help himself, he screamed as the pain grew worse and worse. His thoughts turned hazy, his body cold as his core pulsed again. His heart stuttered and then froze, his core flooding his body with freezing ecto not a moment later. Absently, he could feel the wash of ectoplasm crawl over his body, changing his body minutely. He didn't transform, but he definitely looked more ghostly than human.

All the pain disappeared a moment later, allowing Danny to slump forward, his head hanging low and blocking his face from view. His chest did not rise in ragged breaths, nor did his fingers twitch with life. His mind was still sluggish and clouded with something, making it nearly impossible to think. Squeezing his eyes shut, Danny tried to focus.

"Your Highness?" someone asked, their voice too loud as it rang in Danny's ears. His core pulsed, another flood of ectoplasm flooding his body. His eyes slid open again, allowing him to see the green glow lighting up his chest and lap as he stared down at them.

Slowly, Danny lifted his head, his bright green gaze locking with the man in front of him.

Next

[kekewrites]

tw. Dark content, noncon, dubcon, creampie, size kink, magic onahole/toy/fleshlight, coercion, mind-break, corruption, obsession, gaslighting(?), objectification(?)

part 2 of the onahole troupe

***

"Sweetie~ Are you already out? Come on, you can still keep going."

Hot... It's so hot.

Whining, your body continue to bounce on him, hole swallowing his fat cock. Sweat and cum staining your thighs, sticky and wet as it mixes with your juices.

Such a hot sight. His hands gripping your hips, helping you bounce on him and sometimes meeting your hips with his own, making you whine and sob.

You were so sensitive, having no idea how much time have passed. How many orgasm he pulled out of you.

"I'm helping you, remember?" He sat up, wrapping his arms around as he pulls you close. "Ha... You're so cute. That bastard won't touch you anymore, ok? I'm here."

Barely hanging on, you nodded as your ears started to ring. If there was still a rational part of you awake, you would've find his words suspicious, but you were just too dumb for that. Blindly trusting your friend, believing him with your being.

He promised to help you.

So why does it feel like you made the wrong choice?

That tiny rational thought of yours was pushed as you felt his lips on your own.

***

It was odd how the phantom disappeared after his help.

Your complexion improved, the shadows under your eyes fading as if the weight of their presence had been slowly draining you all along. Sleep came easier now, uninterrupted by restless nights and unwanted pleasure, able to focus studying without it whisking your attention away.

Sitting in class, you were finally able to listen without dreading for the touches.t was freeing.

You were glad you told him.

Smiling a bit, you open your cellphone as you think of hanging out with them. You really missed them, thinking about how you three rarely hang out nowadays. It used to be so easy to hang out with your closest friends, without having to plan anything elaborate. Just a quick text, and before you knew it, you were all together. But lately, it was about you two without your more or less busy friend. You know how much he took his studies seriously, often holding back to invite him whenever you discover a film you'd both like to watch.

Determined, you found yourself texting him, sending him a little message of, "Are you busy? Let's meet at the library when it's lunch time!"

You nervously shifted on your sit as you await his reply, a minute after you feel your phone vibrate.

"Sure."

You couldn't wait for the class to be over.

***

"Hey, what's up?" You heard his voice as he sat down beside you. Your usual hangout spot, comfort place, and your solace before those events happened.

Beaming, you turned to him, grateful for the simple presence of someone you're comfortable with.

"Are you done with your studies? I was hoping we could hangout soon, all three of us..." You speak, your confidence dipping down as you let out the last part.

Resting his chin on his hand, "Hmm... We have a quiz for next week in my major," He observes as your smile fades, "But I suppose, I'll make time for you," He swears it's like watching a dog wag its tail as he see you regain your smile.

It couldn't hurt to relax a little, it's been a while since you two hangout. He did notice how you were with that stupid guy in the past few days

You softly clap your hands, "That's great! Oh, we should do a movie marathon!" As you babble your plans, he couldn't help but notice how more... alive you look compared to before. He was still wondering why you were so troubled back then, but he's glad you got it solved out.

Humming, you started typing on the notes in your phone, making plans and listing movies to watch, throwing in snacks to buy as well. It was safe to say that you're really excited to be able to be with your best friends.

It would be just a fun night with the guys, right?

***

"Come on, don't be upset. Something probably important came out that he won't be able to come."

It seems that the three of you wouldn't be able to hangout, as the two of you sit on the couch.

Grumbling, you hug the couch pillow close to your chest as you glance at the text message left by your friend. It was upsetting but you couldn't be that upset since he rarely wasn't able to come in your hangout session, and since he's the one who helped you after all.

"Yeah, you're right. It can't be helped, I guess…" you sigh, trying to hide your disappointment as you sink further into his couch. The soft fabric and cozy atmosphere of his apartment help ease your mood a bit.

"I'm sure the three of us will meet up soon. Plus, the two of us haven't hangout for a while."

Come on, it's not so bad to be alone with him, you know?

"Yeah, that's true," you say, trying to shake off the disappointment. You steal a glance at him as he queues up a movie. It's been a while since the two of you just hung out alone like this, and despite the change in plans, it feels nice.

As the movie starts, you realize he accidentally picked a horror film—complete with dark shadows, creepy music, and plenty of jump scares. You’re both laughing it off at first, but the sudden shocks get you clutching the couch pillow a bit tighter, scooting unconsciously closer to him.

The atmosphere shifts when an unexpected scene appears—a moment that’s more... explicit than either of you anticipated. You feel your face heat up as you quickly avert your eyes, feeling a mix of embarrassment and tension settle between you. You catch him glancing away too, clearing his throat nervously.

What is he, five? Getting flustered with such scene, not like he hasn't done any worse than it.

"I... think I need to use the bathroom," he mumbles, standing up hastily and heading out of the room, leaving you alone on the couch.

You’re left there, pulse racing slightly as you try to shake off the awkwardness.

This is bad, you suddenly remember all of your other friend's help. Clutching your legs close, you try to avert your attention somewhere while waiting for your friend to come back.

Though, you felt your stomach drop as that familiar and unwelcome touch came up.

***

What the hell is he even thinking?

He tries to find his reason as he stares at the onahole on his hand, that idiot's gift to him. It's been a week since he had last use this thing, yeah it felt good and feels like the real deal but after one use he never touched it again.

So why the hell is he using it while thinking of you? The same girl who's sitting on his couch right now, in his apartment?

His eyes glance at the lube on the counter, putting the wet lotion on his free hand. It's your fault he got hard, you were too squirmy and... cute. That shitty horror movie wasn't even that good with the corny soft porn scenes but you... were just having an effect on him. So damn shy and innocent reactions, he needed to get out before he'd lost his composure and pounce on you.

But he's not a brute, no he isn't like those rabid animals.

Imagining does not count, no, no, he's only letting his frustration out.

So with the touch of his fingers, rubbing the entrance of the onahole he let himself go.

***

Jumping from the couch, you looked around frantically as you felt that horrifying touch on your nether region. 

That's impossible! You though he already fixed it!

Silently crying on your hands, you tried to keep your noises.

You've experienced that ghostly touch countless times however this time, it felt a bit calculative yet desperate, as if another entity was touching you. It felt weird but you can feel how different this one was touching you.

Is there another ghost who's harassing you?

Will it ever go away?

You cried as you felt something big goes inside you.

***

Shit, he forgot how realistic this onahole was. When was the last time he used it? Weeks ago? He doesn't remember but he might use it again now. Since his darling is always inviting him to hangout, this little gift might save him from pouncing on you when you're just a little too cute for his liking. Not only that but because of the hectic projects and assignments coming in, he hasn't had the time to relieve himself.

His thrust is fast and uncaring, yet a bit desperate for release. He felt himself feeling more sensitive as he imagine if this was your cunt instead, squeezing and twitching around his cock. He loves how automated this thing was, his mind just running wild as he imagines you sitting alone in his couch unsuspected of his vulgar and filthy thought of you. It's wrong but it damn this onahole just feels so right.

Slamming himself on the tight hole, he pinch the little clit and felt the walls squeeze tight making him come undone. Hissing and twitching as his cock shoots down his massive load inside the toy. What a waste, it would've been better if he could shoot it down your womb. Exhaling, he slowly pulled out of the toy, savoring the way the wall clung on his shaft before his head pops off.

Fuck. He's really a goner now. 

He's no better than a scumbag for letting his mind wander to thoughts about his best friend, his childhood friend… his first crush, his first and only love. He remembers how he was when you two first met—a boy who struggled to connect with anyone. He didn’t see the point in making friends, preferring to stay on the sidelines, reserved and detached.

Though, him, was the exception as both of their parents were business partners and have good relationship with each other. It's only natural for them to build a connection, solely for maintaining good connections with their business partners. Over time, he realized how strangely alike the two of them were, as if they shared the same quirks and preferences.

Well, he shouldn't think of that while thrusting his dick on a toy but he can't help but reflect on the way they are alike. He certainly knows, that guy shares the same affection he has on you, and he hated how he can't feel jealous because... he's fine with sharing you if it's him. But he's a little pissed at how you two were hanging out lately, he only have himself to blame by taking his studies seriously unlike that guy.

That's not important now, he has you in his room alone with no one else to ruin your moment with him. Shit, he felt the toy tighten around him.

His mind goes blank as he felt himself getting closer.

***

"Hey, sorry I took a while, but I'm... back?" he said, sitting down on the couch. His voice trailed off, quieter and confused, as he noticed you hugging yourself with your head hung low.

"What's wrong?" he asked immediately, placing a hand on your back as he tried to see your face. His eyes narrowed as he waited for your response, only to widen when he saw your tear-streaked face.

"I-It... touched me again..."

"What do you mean?"

And you broke down, crying as you told him about the phantom.

Any sane person would be skeptical, hell they would probably put you in the asylum for the things you swore happened to you. He'd get you help if it weren't for that one specific detail, an oddly timed and complete coincidence. Where that phantom touched you the same time he had gotten the toy... and the way it touch you just minutes later he went to the bathroom.

No way...

Surely, it was just a coincidence...

He supposed testing that theory wouldn't hurt.

With a lousy excuse of getting you a glass of water from the kitchen, he went straight to the bathroom to take that toy, sure it was big enough to be seen by you, but the way you were staring down on the floor as you quietly sob made it easy to sneakily place the onahole behind the couch pillow. Close for his hand to touch but unnoticeable from your teary eyes.

His hand goes behind the pillow right where the toy is.

"Ah!"

It can't be... Such an impossible story.

"J-Just now... it touched me!"

His finger went in.

"No! It went inside...!"

This is crazy.

He knows it's wrong but watching you panic and look around with frantic and terrified eyes made his cock throb. Not knowing that the source of your trouble being right in front of you made it immoral, so bad, and it made his cock harden.

"Hey, I'll... chase out that bastard for you." His wandering finger pulls out of the toy, his other hand cupping your tear stained cheek, "You don't have to worry anymore. You said that guy made that phantom disappear, right?" He sweetly cooed, a rare tone in his voice, "Just trust me on this one like he'd done with you, yeah?"

Your back gently hits the couch as he straddles you, "Be a good girl and relax, I'm just going to help you."

Doubt and wariness swirls in that doe eyes of yours. He can see the uncertainty in that stupid head of yours, but he knew you'd agree with him. You always do.

"O-Ok... Please help me."

And he's right about that.

You're just too trusting, aren't you? Stupid girl.

It's your fault he's like this to you.

All your fault.

There’s a faint metallic click as his belt buckle comes undone, and the soft rasp of fabric follows as he frees himself from his pants. His cock springs free, the swollen head brushing against your inner thigh. He can't believe he's finally doing this. The girl he ever wanted right beneath him, all bare and for him to ruin.

It's fucked up how he doesn't feel guilty for doing this, doesn't feel guilty as he rubs his tip on your wet entrance. Everything about you is soft, the only thing he's afraid to do is to bruise your pretty skin. He can feel your breathe quicken, you heart thumping in anxiety and he smiles at that.

"I'll be... gentle." For now.

The blunt head nudges against your entrance, the slick heat of your hole enveloping him inch by inch as he presses into you slowly. Fuck. It's completely different from a toy. He wished he'd done it sooner, the walls of your inside and the wall of the toy was like night and day. His cock pulses within them, the heat and tightness driving him to the edge of his patience. Hissing in pleasure as your walls clenched around him.

"So cute..."

With that, he leaned down, his lips pressing against you. His tongue invaded your mouth, claiming you, owning you, just as his cock claimed your body. He knows he should let you adjust and wait for you to be ready but hell he'd wait for more than a second. Setting a fast pace, fucking into you with abandon, his hand gripping your hip hard enough to leave bruises-- the one he was dreaded on doing. He panted, his head thrown back in ecstasy. 

If it were that easy, he should've done this sooner. Manipulated that stupid head of yours, your naivety being the one who'd get you in trouble when you were younger.

It was different back then when he was alone. Socializing was unnecessary and draining, didn't have any purpose or value to him. He supposed having one friend is enough, he didn’t have patience for others, especially kids his age who, to him, seemed immature and exhausting.

Then you came along with your bright smile, bold laugh, and endearing quirks. You weren’t stunning or wealthy, and your background was humble—a stark contrast to his world. And yet, every time you called him by that silly nickname you made up, something in his chest stirred, an ache he couldn’t ignore. A foolish girl, treating him as if he were just another friend, another kid to play with.

So why can’t he push you away? You're just like any other kid who wants his attention. So why is it so hard to say no to you?

You're the one driving him crazy. So you only have yourself to blame, this is only happening because you're letting him. You're the one doing this to your self.

He could feel the pleasure building, the pressure in his balls as he neared his release.

"Be my onahole, ok?" He demanded, his voice rough with lust. He needed to hear you say it, needed to know that you understood.

Your mind was swirling, head foggy as the pleasure was starting to mix with the confusion. As your cries grew louder, body writhing beneath him, he felt his own orgasm approaching. He could feel the heat building, the tingling in his toes as his balls drew up tight.

O-Onahole? What's that? What is he talking about?

"Everyday, you'll be my onahole." he panted, his words punctuated by the sound of flesh meeting flesh, the obscene squelch of his cock pumping in and out of your pussy. "I'll save you from that phantom, ok?"

I don't know anything....

"Ok?!" he warns, hips losing their rhythm as his climax approaches, "Shit...!"

"Ah! I-I will! I'll become your onahole!"

With a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside, his cock pulsing as he empties himself deep in your womb. He holds you tight against his chest, grinding into you to prolong the waves of pleasure.

"Fuck, you're so good for me," He praises breathlessly, peppering your sweat-dampened neck with kisses. "Taking my cock so well, milking me dry. That phantom is gone now that I'm with you."

All you could feel was the light kisses trailing on your neck to your cheek and finally on your lips.

"One more time? I mean you are my onahole now."

***

"Wow, you didn't hold one bit eh?"

His eyes narrowed as he saw him standing on the door with a smug grin.

"What are you doing here? I thought you wouldn't be able to make it?" His tone accessory as he cleans up the aftermath, gently tucking in your passed out figure on the bed.

"So defensive for what?" He chuckles, sauntering as he glance at your peaceful fresh-fucked face. Such a lovely sight. He  licks his lips at that but for now you'd need to get your beauty rest after a rough day. "So, did 'ya like your present?"

"..."

"I'd take your silence as a yes then." Giggling, he places his hand on his shoulder, "I knew you'd like it I mean, we are similar in taste after all."

His jaw tightens before sighing in defeat, "Where did you even get that toy?"

"Oh, some shady website~! I was planning to buy another one but the website mysteriously disappeared!" He exaggerate his movements which earned a grimace from him.

"Shut up, you'll wake her up."

"No, she won't. You made her pass out, how ungentlemanly of you."

"Says you."

"Whatever, I came to ask you a question," His hand drop to his side, his smug smile still on but something sinister behind it, "So, we're going to share, right?"

The answer should've been obvious but it was hard to let the word out of his mouth. Was it pride or possession?

"Yeah..."

"I knew you'd say that."

"But I want her on Mondays."

"Oh brother, why pick the worst day?" He grunts in disappointment.

"Because it's the worst day, I need her on that day."