#and my city involves a sad fucking old man

[pyreshe]

one day I will write out my lil arthuriana thing where m.erlin raises a.rthur and loves him like a son but he still loses him and is more or less doomed to an agonizingly long life where he is constantly reminded that he failed his boy and is looking for a reincarnation he can't even be sure will ever come,,

[kas-e]

The greatest canvas is the one just outside. The world is mad, frustrated, fighting, at war, but I essentially bowed out of the mainstream years ago. Since then I've been living in a little city in a strange region tucked in the valley beside a beautiful mountain range. It's been years now, and my life in America has all but faded from the rearview, all that remains is this tiny dot on the horizon that if I squint hard enough I might be able to make out what it is - but honestly, I don't care enough to strain my eyes.

The so-called friends and family gave up communications around a year ago. It's always been a flimsy connection anyway, so at least I saw that coming. At least my mother still responds sometimes. I'm not looking for pity, it's just the way it is. Reality.

When I was 19 years old I was involved in a horrible tragedy, at which time every person in my life turned their backs on me. Every last one. For a year I heard from nobody, I was hung up on, ignored, and just flat out told to fuck off. I was trying to get myself clean, and there were some months where I was institutionalized. The white walls still haunt me sometimes... but I remember trying to wrap my head around what was going on. The memory is vivid and piercing. Like it was yesterday, despite the fact that it was 25 years ago. It was the greatest lesson of my life.

It was when I realized that I was indeed alone in this life. Every man, and I would imagine plenty of women, come to this conclusion at some point in their life. Some of us are lucky enough to have family, friends, even love. But ultimately, we are alone. When tragedy strikes, this is revealed. The fair-weather friends disappear, and sometimes the family does too. But this doesn't make me sad anymore. It's just a black and white fact of life. Instead it gives me a sense of peace, because with the acceptance of this, I've grown and nurtured a love for myself that is now substantial enough to weather many heavy storms. Furthermore, now, when I do have love, or simply people in my life, I am very grateful for their presence, and it's easier to love and appreciate them back. Now, it's effortlessly reciprocal, whereas before sometimes it was one-sided.

My point of writing all of this is just to remind you, again, that the greatest canvas is just outside. The visions that nature gives us, for free, every day, are mere steps away. This is why I'm a photographer. This is why I shoot incessantly, and have for the past two decades. I'm trying to grab those fleeting moments of beauty and glory, one by one, and present them to whoever wants to see them.

I hope that you enjoy my work as much as I love creating it. Someone once told me that the sun sets and rises every single day, it's our choice if we want to be there for it. Ever since hearing that, I make it a point to be there every chance I have.

Next trip is southern Italy in a few weeks. Can't wait to get out there, and get some good sessions in before the cold grey winter of Eastern Europe sets in for the season.

Peace & Prosperity.

[intheholler]

i think one thing that does set appalachia apart from other old mountain regions are the origins of the people who settled there: the scots-irish, many of whom were once indentured servants or the children of indentured servants; the "melungeons", a unique mixture of people that became its own identity, and also had a history of indentured servitude.

it makes me sad to see how racist puritanism began ruining later generations of mountain folk, because what separates the "hillbillies" from the classically (and hypocritically) puritan "rednecks" was not only their environment but the origin of their people.

for anyone, but especially for someone of scots-irish stock or melungeon stock, the idea of prejudice should be sickening to them, not accepted.

how quickly society forgets city stores with signs reading "no dogs, no blacks, no irish", or politicians remarking on the "horrible" and "race-mixing" nature of melungeons, or scholarly depictions of celtic folk as cro-magnons and impure.

all of the old people from this area i knew as a kid were so kind. "do what you want as long as you ain't hurtin' nobody else" was the rule of law, no matter how much they loved jesus. maybe, at times, especially because of how they loved jesus.

but thanks to the modern trend of "hillbilly" culture being seen as low class, depicted only when moonshine and fake joke teeth are involved, the entire appalachian culture has been diminished in favor of the nashville-esque, "son of a plantation owner" redneck-ism. and now even people raised in the area think that's all we are and ever have been. we used to be the opposite of that.

we were self-sufficient, private. we tended to each other and those on the hills near us. self-sufficient folk had little use for plantations, no money to hire servants, and a pretty good ancestral reason not to. our legacy is not that of racist rednecks, no matter how much erasure there is. people talk about dolly parton like she's one of the "good rednecks" - nope. she's just old school appalachian. a hillbilly girl.

last bit of ramble: when my grandmother was alive, she told me a story from when she was a little girl in the 1920's. she rode into town with her father to get a block of ice at the general store. there was a black man there shopping as well. life was so secluded that she had never seen a person with dark skin before, and she was a little frightened. her father patted her on the back and assured her that he was a good man, and that people sometimes had dark skin, and that it didn't mean anything bad about them. she wasn't afraid anymore. that's appalachia to me.

presented with no comment because: fucking amen. i literally could not have articulated any of this better if i tried. thanks for sharing this important bit of history. and i especially love this passage:

but thanks to the modern trend of "hillbilly" culture being seen as low class, depicted only when moonshine and fake joke teeth are involved, the entire appalachian culture has been diminished in favor of the nashville-esque, "son of a plantation owner" redneck-ism. and now even people raised in the area think that's all we are and ever have been. we used to be the opposite of that. we were self-sufficient, private. we tended to each other and those on the hills near us. self-sufficient folk had little use for plantations, no money to hire servants, and a pretty good ancestral reason not to. our legacy is not that of racist rednecks, no matter how much erasure there is. people talk about dolly parton like she's one of the "good rednecks" - nope. she's just old school appalachian. a hillbilly girl.

[kerubimcrepin]

Episode 15 - Teeny Keke

I think it's interesting that there are ruins just outside the city. Goes to show, that even in these times, there were layers upon layers of history...

And that's not to mention how many layers there are by Dofus MMO times.

Or the way all this history is at the bottom of the ocean by Wakfu times.

He has an upside down ad.

why.

His mood swings continue to be the show's highlight.

Oh no. It's his weakness:

Women.

This is, to my knowledge, the only real item among the ones that he shows.

He's NEVER beating those Waven Bonta Cannibalism Allegations.

Are the Cannibalism Allegations canon? I hadn't played Waven, so I can't say for sure what the fuck Joris (and by proxy, Kerubim and Atcham) are doing at the helm of Bontarian government, and whether it involves cannibalism besides all the other warcrimes apparently committed.

Is it funny to mention them right after Kerubim spoke of eating sentient species? Abso-fucking-lutely.

Also, there's an emergency exit in the back, behind the two women. Luis is confirmed OSHA-compliant.

(edit: nvm it's a "this is not an emergency exit" sign. This house is gleefully OSHA non-compliant.)

He's a gross, gross old man, but god, his enthusiasm for selling things is so contagious.

This is an item in both of the MMOs. A timeless classic in the World of Twelve, I suppose.

Never let it be forgotten that this fucking map has known Joris for 600 years. And neither of them even brought it up. Very cunty.

Not a Dofus item, but a reference to Dragon Ball.

Yesss queen use your son as a guinea pig.

(Also, these wands are real items in the games, just so you know.)

I need to kill him so bad, and I don't even know why.

Anyway, another Joris salute moment.

I just want to hug Joris. So bad.

I know it could just be Simone being cool, which is a likely thing for her to be — but it always struck me as odd, the fact that she can last in combat for at least little bit, and how fast she is to grab, and use, a weapon.

I guess it might not be too strange, considering the setting. Maybe she used to be an adventurer, as a hobby, and realized she doesn't like that sort of lifestyle. Maybe something else. But it really makes one wonder where she came from, when coupled with her cryptic answers of "Oh I'm from afar."

Mind you, she doesn't seem to be a Warrior Lady. It's just that she has some skill, but not masterful skill, and that leaves a lot of theories on the table.

They are literally so special.

And their first instinct is to hug. I can't do this anymore. I can't do this anymore. 😭💕

I love how in sync they are, to the point of even saying this together.

Yeah, Keke. I also love staring at Joris when he's happy.

Seasonal depression ass. Also, not-so-seasonal depression ass, considering how he was acting just like this in the Vax's Art episode too.

It is nice to get a confirmation that Kerubim is prone to mood swings like that, and that I was right that he mostly seemed like... unwell in that episode, even before his 30-50 art related panic attacks.

However, even on our worst days, we all still have to fuckin' clean. Sad.

[sonicasura]

I just got done watching a playthrough of the 1st Legend of Zelda. And when I take Ocarina of Time and bit of Skyward Sword into account, it makes the setting much sadder with these details.

Every resident you encountered, minus the Great Fairies, live in caves or hidden passages within shrubs and dungeons. Bomb sellers practically get trapped in dungeons.

The economy crashed leaving 1 and 5 type Rupees the only cash available. 10, 50 and 100 Rupees no longer exist or can be made.

The Moblins whose homes you break into are probably rogues not with Ganon and are bribing you to keep their location quiet. There are also starving Moblins in some dungeons which means even they suffer under Ganon's rule. Especially since Enemy Bait works on normal enemy Moblins than other monsters.

Money is valued to the point that you can't get clues or even pass certain places. In the Second Quest, there's an old man who requires you to give up a Life Container or 50 Rupees. Literally says: Your life or your money.

The Lost Woods look...dead. Even if it's just graphics for that era, the trees look like they're dying alongside being sparse.

Fairies can only be found by defeated enemies except for the rare Fairy Spring. Nearly every fairy had been captured and held prisoner by monsters.

Zoras evolved to become monstrous just to survive. This trait being more recessive and altered for BotW Zoras as they now represent different species of aquatic life.

Dragons become hostile as most dungeon bosses are a draconic species. Something made sadder if you read the OOT comic or played Skyward Sword.

Even though Gorons aren't a concept at that time... The thought of Goron genocide lingers in my mind. Ganon's lair is found near Death Mountain and a shit ton of graves near said area. Twilight Princess had such occurrences with the Twili and Gerudo for Arbiter's Grounds alongside the Oocca in City in the Sky.

The Triforce of Wisdom was torn into pieces and Zelda put into a magical sleep. You don't get Courage until the second game. Mask/Time(OoT Link) had it on him...so what happened to him exactly (other than death)? I think I just made the context for Dark Link in the sequel more fucked up. 😶

But yeah. This is some sad shit with the timeline context. Now for stuff outside of angst.

Hyrule (this game's Link) acquires magic rings that boosts his durability. One can be bought and the other found in a dungeon.

Immediately can do sword beams at full health without the Master Sword.

Rupees serve as arrowheads cause when you use the arrows, your rupees drop with each shot.

Acquires a magic wand which can be enhanced to create flames via magic book. That means the wands/rods had upgrade potential which is probably something rarely seen for weapons in a Zelda game.

Gambling. Hyrule has gambled before for cash.

There are pocket watches capable of stopping time and recorders/flutes that can warp you to different dungeons or reveal hidden places.

And that's all I can list really. It does give me better context when I get to writing Hyrule's character. As for who I watched involving this playthrough, it was HCBailley here. Pretty entertaining and has a lot of info on hidden secrets or easter eggs for the game.

Until next time folks, I'll see you back in Hyrule!

[bornetoblood]

001 moon divorce 😌 they’re just so ough….

my guys......

Link to the questions!

When I started Shipping it: Probaly a couple months after I got into Bloodborne! I think it started with me going "oh yeah that'd work I think" and then the more lore digging and thinking I did the worse the brainrot got.

My Thoughts: I love them.... so much. They are Yharnam's murder powercouple of my dreams. They set up the Church together... they burn the city down together... they summon god together and it rips them apart... Laurence is the only guy Gehrman cares about being 'useful' for and Gehrman progressivly comes to represent Laurence's humanity- all the things he wishes to discard but cannot. Their love, as rotted and gorey as it is, drives every part of the game to me.

What Makes Me Happy About them: Murder couple antics. Gehrman kills people for Laurence cus he's devoted and Laurence literally likes to bathe in the blood of his enemies. They hold hands and skip through a field of corpses :) Sitcom where your husband is a theocratic dictator and you kill the people he sees as a threat.

What Makes Me Sad About them: The fact that they're seperated at the fault of their own hubris. They literally do nothing but fuck around and find out and it catches up to them. Also the fact that they're slowly forgetting each other too that also hurts. Oh and how Gehrman apologises for dying in that one cut line that... oh wow.

Things Done In Fanfic That Annoy Me: THAT THERE IS NON. Jk... I'm not into how the characters can be flattened, I suppose. I'm personally not into 'Laurence did nothing wrong' takes or Gehrman as just 'creepy old man lmao' both of those hurt. Also when ppl make them straight (I'm only half joking).

Things I Look For In Fanfic: They need to be fucked up AND evil to the world and each other. They've both gotta be little freaks in some capacity. I NEED guys who are so in love but make their lives and the lives of those around them significantly worse.

Who Else I'd Be Alright With Them Ending Up With: Lozza isn't monogomous to me anyway he's dating like 5 seperate guys. I can only really see him having genuine feelings for Gehr (and he HATES it fr) but I feel like most ships with Laurence work just cus he's so involved in every aspect of the plot.

Gehrman I can't really ship with anyone else... maybe Ludwig? He sounds pretty upset when he mentions him. Maybe Flora but I think she sees him as a sick hamster fr.

Their Happily Ever After: Ohh... I think Gehrman dreams about him and Laurence living in a secluded cottage house- no cults or werewolves. He does woodworking and Laurence is a local physician with no political power. It's nice, simple.

Lozza's ideal is him ascending and getting Gehrman out of the dream. Achieving his goal and saving that one guy he cares about :)

Big Spoon/Little Spoon: I feel like they take turns fr. Laurence is 5'7 he fits perfectly in the arms of this 8 foot somthing man. But then again, I think Gehr likes to be held and Laurence likes holding things.

Favourite Activity: I think they kill people as a cute date idea. Unironically they greatly miss tomb diving with each other: the excitement of near death experiences, the blood, the thrill of discovery. They occasionally participated in Hunts together but they were both so busy they didn't get the chance. Aside from murder I think Gehrman would love to drag Laurence along to a practical activity like pottery classes and Laurence LOVES getting Gehrman to attend theoretical debates with him.

[deathxproof-archive]

Also have a fun little life update since it’s 8 AM (the time it is everywhere in the world right now) and I haven’t slept and my partner’s work alarm is going off—

Graduated from college in 2020(sad party popper noise). Studied theatre, visual arts, art history. Emmett Timeline OUT. Andrew Rose Timeline IN.

Started testosterone and changed my name AGAIN in 2020. Got FUCKING medicated.

Worked as a manager for FuckBucks for a few years, as I feel is a valid post-theatre-degree job, many arts graduates would agree.

Started an art business that’s currently on hiatus(for moving reasons). Made a few zines. Still doing that. Had a fun pagan spiritual awakening.

Saw My Chemical Romance and The Mountain Goats within a week of each other and came out a changed man(-adjacent).

Started dating my best friend from high school and we moved to our dream city with my college roommate, my cat, and my partner’s snake the week before I turned 25.

Moved from the mountains to the ocean with a brief(lol) stint in eastern Massachusetts suburbia(read:hell).

Quit smoking cigarettes. Started smoking cigarettes again. We grow and quit again, save for when heavy drinking is involved(read: rarely).

Working at a cool artsy downtown cafe with cool artsy people!! My partner works with vampires!! Dipping my toes into theatre again(slowly)(very slowly)(literally just got this job and don’t know how to schedule that around theatre schedules)(we learn and adapt).

I picked up my Doctor Who writing fixation like an old long-untouched sketchbook full of familiar-ish art that I want to sketch over, finish unfinished pieces, and try my hand at redoing old work in a not-very-changed style. I want to write old muses like I redo character designs.

I picked up my general Doctor Who hyperfixation and slammed it against a wall like a wet teddy bear for the satisfying sound it makes.

And I am, perhaps, actually, legitimately, most importantly, the happiest I’ve been in my 25 long and short years on planet earth.

(The Brainworms for the Master & the Doctor [both separate & together entities] never went away. The Brainworms for everyone else came back with a vengeance.)

[the-au-collector]

I have no backing for this but I feel like every post about KH I’ve been making lately has been very negative??? Idk I reblogged a post today and realized it was really really negative? And like. I don’t like KH3. I stand by that. And it’s because I fucking love this series. I love it’s characters. I love how much of a madman Nomura is.

But. I can also feel the lack of love that went into KH3. That’s not to say there wasn’t any love. The world designs are phenomenal (did you know they modeled a specific city block in San Francisco for San Fransokyo’s level? I need to post that comparison soon). The gameplay, while too flashy and breaking the flow of gameplay constantly, looks really good. The game looks good. It feels good to play. I hate the game yet it’s my most replayed KH game to date.

Yet I can’t help but feel like Nomura was tired when writing it. He was tired of these characters. Tired of this arc. He wanted to move on. I don’t blame him. He’s been working on the Xehanort arc for around a decade. Damn, I would be tired too. But it’s a problem when I can feel that tiredness in the story.

And it permeates the story. The sequel-baiting. The bringing up things out of left field. Fucking Verum Rex. It’s just. KH3 feels tired. It feels tired of its own IP. It feels tired of the arc it’s supposed to be ending. It feels tired of Disney and Sora and the characters we’ve been following for years.

Idk, I mostly just feel disappointed about KH3. At this point, I’m just tired of it. I loathe the game because I love the series and I hate how lackluster of an ending KH3 got because Nomura got tired/wants to do other things with the series (*side eyes the hideous rebrand of Versus XIII as Verum Rex*). This series is near and dear to my heart and it’s just sad. When the game came out, I felt betrayed. There was too much coming out of left field. Too much focusing on what was ahead instead of closing off arcs. It was too little too late.

We waited thirteen years—and for what? For Sora to be sent left and right with no direction across 6 Disney worlds? For everything to be wrapped up in a nice little bow with little to no struggle or emotional agony that all of the previous games have consistently given us? For Sora to just be able to fix things with no consequences? For every world Sora was sent to to feel inconsequential (and I can see the effort there. I can see so, so much effort to make something. Each movie featured has themes of loss and sacrifice but it’s just not there in KH3)? For Sora to not even take a front-seat in most of the story? He’s just there, a vessel for the player to watch events that he has nothing to do with unfold? What happened to Sora, the main character? Why does no one want to involve him on anything? Now he’s just the dues ex machine all the important people get to call when they get in trouble. Where’s the setup? Where’s the payoff? Where’s the hours of Lea agonizing over Roxas and Xion? Where’s Aqua and Ven trying desperately to save Terra, knowing he might be too far gone? Where’s Sora, facing up against the biggest foe of his life, who’s supposed to be the most conniving, deceitful man ever? It all just gets shoved to the end, barely mattering outside of a single world.

The worst part is—I know Nomura can write something good. I know he can do the setup and payoff. He explained why Mickey was shirtless in KH1 for Pete’s sake! He did really good at Union X’s story and making us really care about the new characters we have never met! He made impeccable Disney Worlds in Dark Road that had plot relevance! I know he can make something good, great even! So why didn’t he with KH3?

Sorry for the long post. Figured I’d explain some of my disappointment in KH3. I really do love the series, and it’s what makes KH3 so disappointing and bad to me. I know this is a 5-year old conversation but I’d figured I’d put my 2 cents into the pot.

[perexcri]

Baby Byler!!!! They’re so innocent and full of life and have no idea of their painful future😭😭

As I’ve said in the past, you are such a wonderful writer, it’s so easy to get into the writing and see it in my mind’s eye.

I am not the least bit surprised Lonnie is worthless in this universe too. *shakes fist at the entire concept of the man* Joyce…😭😭 i know they could technically not be either but 😭

“And at night, as he’d let a quietly defiant dollop of glowing amber light bounce between his fingers while he leaned against his bedroom window frame, overlooking the citadel’s walls and down into the pine trees beyond them, he would try to imagine a future for himself.” You continue to astound me with your talent at imagery🥰

Will seems even more willfully oblivious in retrospect if he already knew Mike was (going to be) a knight. And Mike,,, were there any Other magic users around their age? Michael,,,,

Their first meeting in this universe is so sweet and in character and just fits so well in the setting. They’re so Miwi😭

“Will decided he liked this friendship thing. It was freeing, lovely, natural–so different from the rituals and strict orderliness of the ministry and the practice of the old arts.” Sobbing wailing on the floor.

I love that you’ve had an idea for this setting in your head for years. It seems so fleshed out and real and I just. Am really really enjoying learning about this world. And if you ever turn this into a novel I will read the Fuck out of it☺️☺️

I hope you are having a fantastic Friday/weekend!

VEE!! (i'm gonna call you that since it's in your bio lol) i couldn't stop smiling when i got your message last night :D

yesss we're getting some certified miwi moments in this part. it's been so fun writing them as kids, even though the Horrors are waiting right around the corner unfortunately T_T but!! for right now they are friends and everything is fine!!

even though Mike and Will are the only st characters i'm using in this au, tbh Will's dad in this one might as well be Lonnie 🙄 either way, he's useless and awful and none of us are sad to see him go

but i'm so glad you're enjoying the writing!! it makes my heart sing knowing that people actually like it T_T and i see things really vividly in my head, so it's always nice to hear that that translates into the writing. i am having a full imax movie experience in my brain, and i want others to have the same lol

ahhh and the line about the amber light!! i really liked that one, so i'm glad you did too :D i think i added "quietly defiant" in my last read-through of it before i posted it, and i'm so glad i did because i really like it T_T

they're both idiots in this story tbh. hopefully the rest of this part will address some of their respective obliviousness heheheh

finally - yes!! i've had an idea for a story that involved a walled city and someone being exiled for so long and have never been able to get my mind fully around it to write it out. i guess this au will be the first iteration of it and we'll see where it goes from there

thanks for stopping by as always!! i hope you're having a good weekend too!! :] 💜💜💜

[leseigneurdesinferieurs]

In my deep depression and recent mental health plagued I have of course been keeping myself company with poetry and literature and words. It’s notoriously known that deep existential thinking and mourning of your past is very healthy and will make you feel so much better.

With this I have written some poetry and of course must share it amongst you people in case somebody sees it and likes what they read. Note that as of writing these they are not part of my new anthology as that involves a lot more cursing, being generally offensive and anger. That being said please appreciate my poetry. I apologise to those who find it to be to dark and sad.

Off Into The Void I Go

The nights weigh heavy, cold and close the door,

Between myself and all I used to be.

I hear your laugh with someone else, no more

Are you beside me. Loss is all I see.

I watch the world through fractured, hollow glass,

Each breath a whisper, crumbling in my chest.

The days, they blur and pass, then slowly pass,

Until they’re gone. Perhaps it’s for the best.

The mirror shows a stranger, pale and thin,

A face I barely know, but still must wear.

I wash my hands of this old life I’m in,

Yet filth remains — despair is everywhere.

I cut the threads that held old friends too close,

For silence now is easier to bear.

Their voices only haunt, they don’t console;

In every word, the lie of “I still care.”

This weight, it sinks me deeper in the void,

Where nothing soothes, and nothing pulls me back.

Each hour feels like time I can’t avoid,

A train that speeds along its final track.

What comfort lies in pills, or smoke, or glass?

The hollow things we clutch when all else fades.

These fleeting moments hold no strength, no past,

Just emptiness that leaves us more afraid.

The world outside is cold, yet colder still

The thoughts that gnaw inside, they never leave.

No cure for this; no hope, no magic pill—

Just days of drifting by, too numb to grieve.

And so, into the void I quietly go,

No fanfare for the broken, just the night.

Perhaps there’s peace beyond the pull of woe,

Perhaps we fade, then fade into the light.

“Cold Hands”

The night they found her wasn’t cold,

But bright beneath that neon sky.

She lay there, broke beneath the mold,

Of love that withered—gutted, dry.

The sirens hummed like tired bees,

In swarms, they circled dead-end streets,

While no one cried and no one prayed,

Just another ghost in these cracked concrete days.

The world moves fast, they say, and strange,

We wear our masks, we shift, we change.

But in the shadows, something crawls,

Between the hearts we’ve slammed to walls.

Her name was Amy, quiet girl—

She used to dream of city lights,

Met a man who fed her pearls,

Then left her starving on lonely nights.

They played the game, like we all do,

Of texts unread and calls ignored,

Of promises made in darkened rooms,

Where love is sold and hearts are whored.

She took his lies, took every blow,

His voice as sharp as fractured bone,

Until one night, beneath the glow,

She made him feel her knife alone.

Cold hands in colder sheets,

What does love mean if it dies in the streets?

A corpse wrapped in something sweet,

Now her heart is ash and her soul’s incomplete.

They found her body, limbs all wrong,

A mannequin left out too long.

Her lover? Gone, no sign, no trace—

Just blood smudged on a broken face.

And when they asked, what did they say?

“She’s just a girl who lost her way.”

But here’s the thing, we’re all so lost,

In every hand we’ve double-crossed.

Love isn’t love, it’s just a game—

You find a face, you take a name.

And then you push and pull and fuck,

Until it snaps beneath the muck.

I saw her once, or thought I did—

She looked like someone once who smiled,

But now her eyes were hollowed lids,

Her lips drawn tight like winter’s child.

I passed her by, like we all do,

Another ghost among the few,

Who lived and loved and burned and bled—

Then disappeared like all the dead.

We dress it up, we make it neat,

But in the end, love’s dead in the street.

We say it’s tragic, then move on—

Until we’re dust, till we’re all gone.

Cold hands in colder sheets,

What does love mean if it dies in the streets?

A corpse wrapped in something sweet,

Now her heart is ash and her soul’s incomplete.

So here’s the truth no one will say:

We all just fake our love away.

We text, we post, we fuck, we lie—

And then we leave, and let them die.

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

That Dress

Fandom: The Amazing Spider-Man (Andrew Garfield TASM)

Pairing: TASM! Peter Parker x Fem identifying & AFAB! Reader

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff​​ aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long​

Rating: E - 18+ Only 

Warnings: Smut; possessive and rougher Peter, oral sex (f! receiving), love bites, an abundant use of pet names and dirty talk, bit of pain kink going on?, you wear Peter’s hand like a necklace like always, semi-public sex (its in a bathroom, no one can see but...they’re just down the hall), Dom Peter (when is Peter not a dom in my fics?), breeding kink at the end cause I have a problem, overstimulation (Peter’s out here wringing as many orgasms from you as he can tbh), massive amount of praise, there’s praise kink all over the shop in anything I write, little bit of angst at the start

Summary: You just wanted to go to a party, wear that dress that Peter loved so much, and show off your boyfriend. Spider-Man gets in the way, but Peter makes it up to you, after showing everyone that you're his. 

Notes: I never expected this fic to get this long (11k words), but you’re welcome. Hope you enjoy, let me know what you think. 

By clicking the readmore you are confirming that you are 18 years old or older and of the appropriate age to read this fic. If you are not at least 18 years old do not click the readmore and find fic appropriate to your age range, thank you. 

Parties…they’re not usually your thing or Peter’s. Neither of you were big partiers and big crowds of strangers weren’t always your favourite to be in and amongst, especially when alcohol got involved. Usually something insane would happen that you weren’t mentally equipped to deal with, that or too much vomit. But a colleague from work, Jessica, had invited you to her party, some big event she’d booked a whole bar out for, a bar with a notoriously good view of New York’s skyline, and you felt like dressing up for once and trying to be social. You rarely had an excuse to get out your pretty dresses. You just wanted to get dressed up and go to a party with your boyfriend, to see that look cross face when he saw you for the first time. Where his pupils would widen and that little smirk would tug at the corner of his mouth, a sort of half-grin that always showed his teeth and made him look absolutely feral, like he wanted to eat you up. You’d even convinced Peter that the police could handle a few robbers and petty criminals for one night and if they struggled, he’d be there the next day to mop up the mess…or so you thought. 

“Peter, we need to get rea-” You’re stumbling out of the bathroom in your robe to tell Peter to start getting ready when you spot him, already in his Spidey suit by the window, mask in his hands. He gives you a sad look and you know before you even ask that he’s got to go…that there’s something important he has to do. It doesn’t stop your heart breaking just a little bit. You really thought you could have one good night…one really good night. Fucking New York City strikes again. You want to be angry, but you know he wouldn’t do this if he didn’t need to. Peter had been very good throughout your relationship at only missing plans if he knew the police couldn’t handle it, if some sort of disaster or crime needed Spider-Man and his particular set of skills. He’d been trying so hard to maintain some sort of balance between the two sides of his life and his relationship with you.

“Peter…” He hates it, hates the way your face drops at the sight of him, how your voice dips down in disappointment, the way your hands clench in the fabric of your robe. He crosses the room quickly, hands cupping your cheeks and his thumbs rubbing against the skin there. Your eyes are already filling up with tears and he feels like the biggest asshole on the planet. His beautiful girlfriend just wants to spend actual time with him and he’s going to leave her alone to go deal with a bunch of weirdos in costumes. It hurts because he knows you just want to go to a party and wear a pretty dress and make him wear a tie for once in his life. That you just want him there and don’t want to go on your own, but he’s about to give you no other option. He feels like he’s standing you up…what sort of boyfriend does that? Fuck.  

“I have to go, you know I have to go, baby…” He presses a kiss to the tip of your nose, to the apple of each cheek, the divot in your chin. You can tell by the shine in his big doe eyes that he hates this, hates disappointing you and it makes it even harder to be angry with him when you know he’s already beating himself up about it. As if a party is more important than saving people. You know he doesn’t have much of a choice and it’s that goodness in him, that desire, that need to help others that you love so much about Peter. To stop him from doing this would be to stop him being the man you love.  

“You said you’d be there with me…”

“And I will be, okay? I promise, I'll be quick and then I'll go straight there, just think of it like you’re surprising me with whatever cute dress you decide to wear. If I'm here it’ll ruin the surprise, pretty lady.” His half-grin is forced and he knows it's a lame excuse. That it won’t feel like you're surprising him, instead it’ll feel like you're waiting on him, hoping he’ll arrive, unsure whether he will or not. He knows people will ask where is, give you those looks, the pitying ones and he wishes, for just one moment, that New York could sleep, just rest for a couple of hours so he could take his girlfriend out to a party. Like you deserved.

“Pete…” You know he can’t actually promise to be quick, to be there. He has no way of knowing how long it’ll take him to deal with whatever situation requires his attention. Maybe it’ll be quick, maybe he’ll be there, but who knows? 

“I know, but, this time…it’s serious. It’s not just…” It’s not just some robber, or some random thug. It’s serious. Peter moves within your orbit, pressing his forehead against yours, his nose nuzzling against your own. 

“Are there kids involved?” 

“Yeah.” He watches your face fall, watches how you resign yourself, steel yourself to the facts. There are kids involved and it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t make it to the party because his other job, it’s life or death, it’s important, it’s the priority. You cup his cheek and look him dead in those big brown eyes of his, accepting the situation, no matter how badly it hurts. No matter how much you want to be selfish. 

“Okay. They need to be your priority.” Peter hates that you’re so good at this. At accepting that something, someone else has to take priority over you. He hates that he can’t make you that priority all the time, like you deserve. Hates that you don’t scream at him, don’t shout and call him an asshole, that you accept it…because it makes him love you more, makes it harder to do the right thing by you and let you go, instead he holds onto you tighter. Even when he can’t give you everything you deserve. You’re so deeply under his skin, so deeply part of him that he couldn’t ever let you go, even if it was in your best interests. 

“Baby…” He wants to say you’re his priority, and you are but…but still Spider-Man has to come first, those people have to come first. You know this and any attempt to soften the blow will only make things worse, he knows that. You don’t want false promises. You’ve only ever wanted him to be open with you, honest, something so incredibly hard when he desperately wants to protect you even from himself. 

“Pete..it’s okay, really. Go be my favourite hero…Just, please try to turn up, or Jessica will think I’ve been lying about my handsome boyfriend.” You try to play it off as a joke, but it falls flat, not funny and…too close to home. The last thing you want is to be alone at a party where you only know a couple of people, and none of them you know very well.

“I promise. I’ll be there, my suit and tie are in my backpack and all, baby. I’ll be there.” He kisses you long and hard, it’s a promise that you still matter and you melt into it like butter on toast. You watch through lidded eyes as he pulls away and hides his face behind the mask.

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Be careful?”

“Always.” You watch him go, follow him to the window and watch until he swings out of sight. Then you make your way to your shared bedroom and begin to get ready for the night, even if it’s going to be lonelier than you previously thought. 

You try to remember his words, to think of it as a surprise for him. That makes it easier as you pull on that dress, the one he loves so much; the red velvet one that hugs tight to your hips and leaves your shoulders bare. It makes it easier to swipe your lipstick across your lips and style your hair. It makes it easier to grab your bag and coat and leave the apartment on your own.

But easier still isn’t easy. 

                                         ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 “C’mon guys! I have a date to get to! Could you stop trying to kidnap little children for five minutes?” It’s frustrating and it’s ridiculous that of all the nights for a group of villains in stupid costumes to decide to kidnap children from an orphanage to use in some weird experiment to make themselves younger, they chose tonight. Peter really wasn’t feeling it tonight. Not when he had a van full of screaming and crying kids, a girlfriend to get to, and a bunch of weirdos in costumes trying to stab him. He hated knives and he hated the idea of you at a party alone.

“Awww, has the ity bity spider got a date? How sweet.” Mocks the big one in the stupid scarecrow outfit, straw poking out of his hat. He’s gesturing with his hands, twisting them over his eyes, as if Peter’s going to cry and it just serves to piss him off further. He shouldn’t be here right now, he should be dancing with you at the party or making you laugh at his stupid jokes about your coworkers.

“Wow, you’re gonna mock me? You look like a cheap attempt at a scarecrow! Where did you get your mask from? The dollar store?” Peter is quick to webb the guy's hands in quick succession to a nearby wall, dodging out of the way of a guy dressed as the Tin-Man who comes at him with a knife. 

“Hey, no knives!” He knocks the knife from the man’s hands, “I can’t be bleeding tonight, she’ll kill me!” This guy is smaller than the last, he takes one hit to the head and collapses like a sack of potatoes while Peter shakes his hand in pain. 

“Shit, ow! Was that really metal? Idiot!” The Cowardly Lion makes his way forward, Dorothy on his heels and Peter can’t help but think this is the weirdest crime he’s ever had to stop. He misses Dr Connors. At least he was an actual lizard man and not dressed up as one. 

“But, seriously, guys, what’s with the Wizard of Oz costumes? You’re not really pissed off actors are you? No? Okay, so just a bunch of weirdos then, huh.” Peter’s eyes flick to the clock tower nearby, shit, you’ve been at the party nearly an hour by now and he’s still dealing with these assholes. Other than the police being slow to turn up, he’s starting to think they could have handled it without him. That makes him feel worse.

“Says the man in a spider costume!” Dorothy is an old lady with a terrible brown plaited wig on and bright glittery shoes that she can barely walk in. She’s also wielding a walking stick as a weapon. He feels a little bad, beating on an old lady, but…she was trying to murder some kids so…fair’s, fair, right? He’s pretty sure respecting your elders is made irrelevant when said elder has murderous intent. 

“Whoa, calm down, Dorothy! I’m not the one trying to steal little kids to put in some ‘magic potion’ to make myself young again! What happened to Toto? You steal his youth too?”

“Don’t. Talk. About. Toto!” With each pause Dorothy swings her walking stick at him and he’s quick to dodge out of the way each time, ducking underneath the ‘paw’ or rather fist of the Cowardly Lion, just missing getting a black eye. He can’t get hit in the face either today. He can’t turn up looking like some bum who gets into fights all the time, even if he does get into fights all the time. 

“Oh, whoa, lady, didn’t realise Toto was such a sore spot for ya!” The next swing of the walking stick catches him behind the legs and Peter falls prone on his back with a groan, there goes his middle back again. You keep telling him to watch out for it, but he’s pretty sure the universe hates him. 

Looking at the clock face again, Peter wonders if he’ll ever make it to the party. All he knows for certain is this’ll be a hell of a story to tell you.

                                         ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 An hour in and you’re already pretty eager to leave, but part of you won’t, can’t. There’s this little seed of hope that Peter will make it tonight and another part of you doesn’t want to leave only for him to arrive and find you gone. He’s bad at checking his phone like that, and to see him turn up to a party of strangers all alone? Only to find his girlfriend gone? No, no, you can’t do that. So you stay, nursing the same drink you’ve had from the start of your night and standing by the door to the balcony, out of the way enough you hoped to go unnoticed. Like many things tonight your hopes and plans were not going the way you wanted them too. You’re starting to wonder if the universe has a vendetta against you today.  

“So, where’s the ‘boyfriend’?” Jessica siddles up to you, wine glass in hand, holding it just so to show off that massive rock on her finger from her fiance. She’d been parading him and the ring around all night, despite having been engaged for well over a year. You were pretty sure at this point she was just rubbing it in your face, to remind you that you were here alone. 

She’d never seemed to believe you when you mentioned Peter, you weren't sure why, but she seemed to be under the impression that you’d made him up. Despite showing her photos of the two of you together on multiple occasions as well as the calls he often made to you while you were at work. 

Jessica was…confusing. She could be lovely but also incredibly bitchy and you never really knew how she was going to behave…it made things…interesting to say the least. She definitely wasn’t your favourite person in the world, especially not tonight. 

“Oh, Peter’s just running a little late, he had an emergency to deal with. He’ll be here.” You couldn’t actually guarantee that though, your eyes flicking to the clock on the wall. It was an hour into your arrival and over an hour since Peter left to tackle the next big problem in New York. You were starting to think he might never arrive and it seemed like Jessica felt the same way. You weren't just eager to see him because you wanted him here for the party, either, you were worried about him. You had no way of knowing whether or not Peter was okay. He wasn’t the best texter in the world, especially not when it came to his Spider-Man business. You loved him, but God, you hated how often you were kept in the dark. 

“Sure…well, if you ever get lonely, David’s single.” She points to a guy in the corner who’s been staring at you all night. You give her an unimpressed look.

“Peter, my boyfriend, is just running a little late, Jessica. Why don’t you go find your boytoy? I thought I saw him with Leighanne by the coats.” She has the audacity to gasp as if she didn’t just suggest you cheat on your boyfriend with a guy who can’t seem to even have the maturity to look at your face and not your tits. 

You take a long drink and sigh, “Please be okay, Peter…” You whisper it underneath your breath, fingers tapping anxiously against your glass. 

                                       ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 “Finally, y’know, I'm getting too old for this. I have a girlfriend, okay? and she’s waiting for me to go to a party. You need to keep your crazy antics during work hours and week days, y’get me? Sheesh…” The group of weird goons dressed ready to perform the Wizard of Oz are all webbed up to the same lamppost, so tightly jammed together that they groan from behind the webs across their mouths. Peter is thoroughly fed up, running so incredibly late for the party and knowing that you are probably having a crappy time waiting for him. That’s if you’re still even there. 

On top of that is the deep desperation to see what you look like, what dress you chose and how well it fits your body. To run his burning gaze across your skin and take you in. There’s never a moment that Peter doesn’t truly want you, you’re the most breathtaking person in his life, but god, he loves it when you have an excuse to get dressed up and wear something fancy. You always pick something that shows off your hips, always, a little tease to him. You know how much he loves your hips, the shape of them, the curve, the dips, the divots. 

Peter’s drawn out of his thoughts of you to the sounds of sirens and the sight of police cars, they stop and he recognises Detective Morris as he steps out of his squad car. By this point Peter’s familiar with quite a few of the local police officers and they’ve long since stopped calling him a criminal, he’s now just some guy in a mask who helps them out and makes their job a million times easier than it was before. 

“Hey, thanks, Spider-Man!” 

“No problem, guys! Just make sure those kids get back safe?” Peter waves them towards the van, where a bunch of kids are sitting at the opening, waiting to be taken back to the Orphanage they came from. Kids are always a hard one, he still remembers Jack on the bridge, the fear that he might not be able to save him. It always makes him work that little bit harder, that little bit more determined to make sure they’re okay. 

“That’s our job.” Peter’s phone goes off in his backpack and he’s quick to fish it out, your text lighting up his screen. “You got somewhere you need to be?” Detective Morris asks him, pointing to Peter’s phone. 

“Yeah, yeah I do. My girl’s waiting on me. I hope she’s not too pissed with me…” Your text just reads ‘Where are you?’, no kisses at the end, no smiley faces or hearts. It’s hard to tell with such a simple message whether you’re going to be upset with him for taking almost two hours to get this done. 

“She hot?” Peter can’t help but let out the loud and sudden laugh at the question, yeah. Yeah, you’re definitely hot. It’s the thought of you at the party, all pretty and dressed up and probably fending off all the men and women around that has him shoving his phone back in his backpack without even replying to your text. 

“Detective Morris, she’s the most beautiful woman you will ever lay your eyes on. Not quite sure why she picked me, but hey! I’m not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth!” He’s already walking towards the nearest building, backpack swung over his shoulders, knowing full well that the police can handle the weirdos now they’re subdued. 

“Have fun! Hope you’re not in the dog house, Spidey!”

“Thanks, Morris!” It’s with that, that Peter swings away from the crime scene. Dropping down into an alleyway near the bar where the party is held he’s quick to change into the suit he’d packed in his backpack. Spidey Suit thrown in the bag haphazardly. 

The suit is a little rumpled and the creases aren’t going to come out anytime soon, but he’s not got any new bruises or any new cuts this time and his hair is…somewhat manageable he thinks as uses the reflection in a dark shop window as a mirror. He even ties his tie properly, neat and proper, the way it’s supposed to be, a stark contrast to his usually more relaxed appearance. He’s quick to rub away a patch of dirt from his cheek and after a second glance, he’s pretty sure he looks presentable for once. He, at least, won’t completely embarrass you in front of your work colleagues, not that you’d ever call him embarrassing anyway.

Peter stops in a shop on the corner, picking out the last bouquet of roses they have. They’re a little wilted, but a beautiful red almost the same colour as his Spidey Suit. It’s better than showing up empty handed and late. 

Now he just needs to walk to the bar, find you and sweep you off your feet. He’s not figured out if it’ll be figuratively or literally yet, maybe both. Both seems like a good idea to him. 

There’s a new found pep in his step this time, knowing he’s about to see you and he’s not breaking his promise to turn up. He’ll be there, like he said he would and with flowers in hand. God, he can’t wait to see you.

                                         ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 Two hours in and you’re still not quite sure why you’re waiting for Peter. The lack of response to your text message convinces you that he’s still in the middle of whatever mess he left you for. Yet, still you wait. You’ll probably wait until the party ends because he promised he’d make it, he promised he’d be here and Jess is still giving you that look of pity and mocking that makes you want to see her proven wrong so desperately. You can’t wait to see her face drop when she sees Peter, your boyfriend. Your boyfriend who’s hotter than her fiance, nicer than her fiance, smarter than her fiance, all around better than her fiance. Her fiance who’s spent half the night chasing other womens’ skirts and pretending he hasn’t been. It’s petty, but it’s hard not to be when she’s spent the evening stirring the pot and convincing David that you’re unhappy in your relationship and looking for a bit of fun. Something that is most definitely not the case and any man with half a brain cell might have noticed. Not David though. He had one eighth of a brain cell at best. 

David had made his way over five minutes previous and couldn’t quite seem to take a hint. It was starting to grate on your nerves, even more so as he took another step towards you, invading your already limited personal space like he belonged there. 

“Have I told you you look beautiful tonight?” He thinks he’s charming, you can see that. The smile he puts on is overconfident and cocky, but not in the way that Peter’s can be. When Peter teases you, when he’s a little arrogant, it makes your cunt throb and your mind spin. Peter would have had you whining for him by now. David wasn’t Peter, he wasn’t even comparable. Maybe had you never met Peter Parker he might have been of interest to you, but Peter had ruined every single man for you. It was simple. Peter was your end game, your ride or die. You had no intention of being with another person for the rest of your life and David needed to get the hint. 

“Yes. Multiple times. Have I told you about my boyfriend, Peter?” You stress the word through gritted teeth, pulling back from his hand reaching for your bare shoulder, his fingertips just grazing your skin. 

“Where is he?” The disbelief is starting to really wear you down. Do people think you’re sad enough to lie about your boyfriend? As if that was something people regularly did!

“There was an emergency.” Your tone is clipped, gritted teeth and a solid glare at him that should have put him off continuing to pursue you. It didn’t. You were starting to think he was either completely idiotic, oblivious or so arrogant that he couldn’t comprehend the idea that a woman wouldn’t be interested in him and his gelled back hair. Who even uses that much gel in their hair anymore? It made him look like a boy band reject from 2002.

Peter had spotted you before anyone or anything else, it was his goal after all, to find you amongst the crowd. The first thing he noticed about you wasn’t how you were dressed or how gorgeous you looked at that moment, but the look of disdain on your face and the man leering towards you like some sort of creep, his eyes staring down the top of your dress. 

The man’s words travelled easily to Peter’s ears, enhanced hearing a handy talent, his voice grated on Peter, his clear interest in you an annoyance even more so with how uncomfortable you clearly were. He wasn’t exactly happy to find another man trying to make a move on his girlfriend. Peter set his jaw, and set his sights on you. His strides were confident as he dodged around each guest at the party.  

David huffs out a laugh, “Not a very good boyfriend if he leaves a beautiful woman to attend a party alone, I’d never do that to you, sweetcheeks.” The leer has you stepping back and into a warm chest behind you.

“You’d never have a chance.” A familiar and most welcome voice causing your shoulders to relax. It’s sarcastic and unfriendly, the latter rather unusual for your boyfriend. You turn to see him behind you, glare centred on David. 

“Pete!” You’re so excited to see him that you throw your arms around his neck and pull him down to you by the back of the neck. His lips press against yours roughly, more so than normal and you melt into his kiss. Opening your mouth to the coaxing of his tongue without protest, one of his hands falling on your arse in a way you would normally be self-conscious of and tell him off for. But, given there’s an unwanted man attempting to get in your panties, you’re not going to dissuade the possessive hand across your arse or the way he seems to want to suffocate you with his kiss. Peter’s teeth bite your lip and you moan into his mouth before he pulls back with that little half grin of this, the one that’s near enough a smirk, where his brown eyes look at you half-shut and tempting. 

“Hey there, my pretty lady…” He nuzzles his nose against yours, eyes flicking briefly towards the other man with a hint of a smirk, before pulling back from you just enough to offer you the red roses, “These are for you, sweetheart, sorry I’m late, I got held up.”

“Oh, baby! You didn’t have to!” You take the flowers from him and press a kiss to his lips, it was supposed to be a chaste one, but Peter presses back against you roughly, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth before letting you go. 

“Of course I did, I’ve gotta make sure my baby feels loved, don’t I? Now, let me have a look at my baby, mmm?” You feel warm under his attention, he’s not behaving as sweetly as you expect. This is the sort of Peter you usually get in the bedroom, the sort of Peter who convinces you to try and see how many times he can make you cum in one night, the sort of Peter who wraps his hand around your throat and squeezes till the blood rushes in your ears and you can’t form words. 

Still despite the warmth in your face and the heat in your cunt you step back from him, David barely a thought as Peter’s eyes look you up and down slowly from head to toe. His eyes trail from your face and the lipstick you only ever wear because you know it drives him crazy to see it smudged, to see it mark his skin, down to your bare shoulders. He follows the line of your body, the dress…the dress, that dress, it’s his favourite one. The red one, that pops out at him whenever you wear it. The red one that shows off your shoulders and sticks tight to the curves and dips of your body. The red one that shows off your hips, the hips that you know he loves so goddamn much. Fuck, he loves your hips, how they curve, how he can dig his fingers into the meat of them, the way bruises look against your skin there, how they sway when you walk.

His eyes are anything but soft and gentle when he scans you. This is not the Peter who tells you he loves you sweetly and washes your hair and you’re not mad about it. You’re not mad about the heat behind his eyes, the way he watches you with hooded eyes and licks his lips like he might just devour you. 

It takes everything within him to acknowledge the man who had tried so desperately to flirt with you. He doesn’t want to, but still his eyes flick towards him, the fire stays but shifts from lustful to possessive, assessing the other man as if he’d ever be competition.

Peter wraps his arm around your hips and pulls you tight against his side, pressing the whole length of his body against your own as he turns to David. His smile is tight and forced, his usually friendly demeanour definitely not reserved for the man trying to flirt with his girl. You relax into Peter, just happy for him to be with you, for there to be a deterrent. You watch him more than David, taking in the way the suit fits Peter, tight across his shoulders, a few wrinkles he clearly hadn’t been able to get out by smoothing them with his hands. His jaw is tight and it only exaggerates the cut of it, he’s so beautiful and you don’t even want to stay at the party anymore. You just want him to drag you home already. 

“Who’s this?”

“Oh, one of Jessica’s friends, Daryl was it?” You know his name’s David really, but it’s a petty little attempt to remind him that you’re not interested in him and that he should find another pretty girl to try his moves on.

“David.” He corrects tersely, Peter shouldn’t find it enjoyable, the way the other man seems to deflate. He knows his uncle Ben would have told him off for it, for the way he was behaving, but for once he didn’t care. You were his, he was yours. David was an unnecessary and unwanted tag along. He also had way too much gel in his hair.

There’s an uncomfortable tense silence as Peter and David stare each other down before Peter turns with you still wrapped up in his arms. He doesn’t even say goodbye to David, just turns, openly dismissive of him as he ushers you towards a quiet corridor leading to the bathrooms. He urges you to shove the roses into his backpack as you walk, once a sweet gesture, now an inconvenience to his plans. 

His grip is tight on your hip as you walk, and it only grows more forceful as he presses you against a nearby wall, hands landing on either side of your head, caging you in. Nothing about it is aggressive or nasty, just lacking in his usual softness and control. You know you’re not getting the overly sweet and tender Peter tonight, it’s exciting to see this side of him. 

“Did you like him flirting with you, baby? Did it make you feel special?” His voice is rough and low in your ear, warm breath tickling over the shell of your ear. His thigh makes its way between your own, pressing firm against your cunt and you can’t help but roll your hips against the intrusion. Dragging yourself across his leg in an effort to find some sort of friction, some sort of relief from the beginning desire that burns in your stomach like white phosphorus.. 

“No, no, Pete. Only you, only want you, baby…” Your breath stutters at the feeling of your clit dragging across his thigh, wetness pooling in your panties as Peter trails kisses down your neck, teeth nipping and biting at the skin as he goes. He’s rough enough that you know there will be bruises across your neck, clearly placed hickeys that show you’re taken. You think that’s the point, something about David’s attention has set Peter off and you’re not complaining. 

“Mmm, I’m the only one that can make you feel like this, baby girl?” Peter kisses along your cheek, lips hovering over your own as his hand reaches for your neck. He squeezes just so, thumb pressing into the underside of your jaw, tilting your head for him and you can’t help the whine that falls from your throat as you press your hips against his thigh. The fact you’re in an open corridor is a distant worry, barely a thought as your eyes flutter closed. 

“Answer me, sweet girl.” His voice is firm, you force your eyes open to look at him, the way his brown eyes stare into yours as his lips brush against your own, nose nuzzling against yours. Even like this he has this gentleness, a tenderness that reminds you that you are in safe hands. Peter has you and nothing bad will happen, not even with your co-workers just down the corridor.

“Only you…only you make me feel like this, not him, no one else.” It’s a babbling mess that causes Peter to smirk because you’re so pretty like this, rutting against his thigh, skin warm and neck littered with small bruises that you won’t be able to hide tonight. He’s barely started and you’re desperate for him, and fuck, if he doesn’t love seeing you like this for him. Like he’s the only man in the world that can make you lose your sharp wits and ability to speak. 

“There’s my good girl, my sweet girl…” Peter’s hands slide to your thighs gripping them tight and pulling them from the floor, wrapping them around his hips for you as he presses you into the wall. Your arms wrap around his neck instinctively, this scene having played out time and time again as Peter often takes advantage of his superhuman strength. 

He moves you while you lazily press kisses across his jaw, what little skin on his neck is exposed is sucked and nipped as you occupy yourself with him. He thanks whatever deity looked kindly upon him, for this bar to have those individual unisex toilets, lockable and with such heavy doors that the sound is muffled and almost non-existant from outside. 

Peter lets one arm drop from underneath your arse as he closes and locks the heavy door behind him, you’re placed roughly on top of a cold marble sink countertop, your thighs resting just on the edge of it. It’s so cold against your heated skin that it causes you to shiver. Peter, despite the mood he’s in, rubs your legs instinctively to warm you up. 

“Pete…baby…” 

“What do you want, sweet girl? Y’gotta tell me so I can help you out, you gotta use your words for me, sweetheart.” His smirk is teasing and teethy, eyes dark, practically black as his pupils take over most of his iris. Peter knows you can barely form a coherent sentence right now, and can very rarely ever form a coherent sentence when you’re fooling around together. Peter enjoys teasing you, enjoys seeing you struggling to form words, your lips moving as if sound will come out a few times before you finally manage it. He loves that he can do this to you, completely pull you apart without really even touching you.

“Need you, baby…” It’s pleading and sweet, your eyes half lidded as you try to tug him closer to you and he resists your pulling, his own hands grazing lightly at the skin of your thighs sending shivers over your spine. You shift your hips forward, but Peter just pulls his hands back a couple of inches, nearing your knees instead of following your silent urging. 

“Where do you need me, sweetie, mmm?” His voice is so sweet compared to his actions, the voice he uses when he’ll do whatever you want, but he’s not doing what you want right now. It’s frustrating and delicious and you can’t help the shifting of your hips as if you’ll find relief from the empty air. 

“Pete…” You whine bashful and embarrassed, knowing he wants vulgar and crass words to fall from your lips in an unfamiliar display of crudeness from you. A bluntness that you’re not used to around sex, you’re never the direct one, Peter is. 

“C’mon, baby girl, where do you need me?” His voice is firmer, less soft and sweet, less pandering this time. It’s an order, a directive. If you want anything tonight you’re going to have to play by his rules. His rules are deliciously unfair, you think as your belly burns and your clit throbs unattended.

“I…” You toss your head to the side, face and ears so hot you feel feverish with delightful embarrassment, Peter is the only person you could ever feel so safe with like this, “I…want you to…want your lips on me, baby.” You know your words are too vague the moment his grin widens and he drops his lips to your shoulder, pressing an open mouthed kiss there, teeth grazing across your heated skin.

“Here?”

“Nooo…Pete!” You whine and throw your head back in frustration, hands reaching for his head as if to guide him, but he’s already moved onto the hollow at the base of your throat, pressing a kiss there as you squirm.

“Here then?”

“Pete!” Your hands shove his shoulders down, trying to urge him between your thighs like you want but he just smirks up at you all teeth and sin and control. 

“Y’gotta tell me, baby, I'm Spider-Man, not a mind reader.” His lips continue to trail over your exposed skin; your collar bone, your throat, your arms and shoulders. Each time he kisses and licks and bites and you know you are going to walk out of this bathroom littered with love bites that your coworkers will see, that Jessica will see, that David will see. 

The idea of everyone knowing you’re Peter’s, and he’s yours, that he looks after you so well, takes care of you properly, that’s what spurs you to say the words you’ve been so reluctant to.

“On my…on my cunt. I want your lips on my cunt.” You close your eyes and tilt your head back. Peter can’t resist the length of your neck and one last kiss to it before he gives you a sweet reward for your obedience. 

“There, that wasn’t so difficult was it, sweet girl?” It was, you think. It was so difficult and yet his attention makes you want to squirm, making it worth the difficulty. 

Fuck, you’re so pretty like this he think as he rucks up your skirt around your hips and slides your panties down your trembling legs and into his pocket. Your lips parting as you gasp and whine for him to just touch you while you tremble and shake for him. Your perfectly done hair is already a mess from being pressed against a wall, and your skin is littered with love bites from his mouth. A monet painting across your skin of various shades of purple and red. He can’t wait for David to see you like this, on his arm, can’t wait for everyone to know you’re his. 

He takes a step back for a moment just to admire you and the distance has your head snapping up to look at him with a frowny little pout on your face. He’s scanning you again, head to toe, a slow trail of his gaze burning across your skin as Peter licks his lips and grins at your frustration. 

You contain your desire to tell him you hate him, knowing he’s in the mood to stop and draw this out. That saying it will only result in him torturing you for longer and you’re much too riled up already for that. There’s a distant thought that you can’t believe Peter’s about to eat you out in a bar bathroom with your co-workers a few meters away. Another part knows he’s the only person who could ever convince you to do this. 

“Pete, baby, touch me, please”

“Well, since you asked so nicely, honey.”

He drops to his knees so roughly that you wince at the sound of the impact as his knees meet the tiled floor of the bathroom. His hands slide up your ankles, a delicate little touch that has your skin twitching as he reaches the backs of your knees and drags you forward on the countertop until your arse is on the edge. His hands slide up to your hips to hold you securely in place, flexing fingers digging into the flesh there tightly enough to leave bruises, a reminder that he has you and a reminder of what sort of night you’re in for. 

He presses close between your legs, throwing them over his shoulders as he holds you close and for all his teasing there is no preamble here. You whine as Peter licks from your slit to your clit in one fell swoop. Your hands slide into the dark brown strands of his hair and tug harshly, getting a groan from him at the pain. Shit, he loves pleasing you, could probably do this all night if you wanted. He pulls back just enough to look at you.

“You taste so good, baby, my sweet baby, is this all for me?” Peter’s hands tighten on your hips as you squirm, wetness pooling between your thighs and coating the inside of them with slick. You’re so wet that he has half a mind to ask if you’ve been thinking about him all night, if you were thinking of him when David tried his moves on you.

“All for you…all for you, baby.” Your legs twitch over his shoulders, a pathetic little attempt at urging him forward again, never able to win a battle of physical strength with Peter, no matter how hard you try. He’s steady as a rock, only moving when he wants and how he wants. 

“Who does this cunt belong to, sweetheart, mmm?” His voice is so goddamn low and gravelly at this point that it goes straight between your legs.

You’re pretty sure your brain short circuits, Peter’s words combined with his mouth dipping back between your legs and  his lips wrapping around your clit and sucking has you throwing your head back so hard that Peter’s quick to reach a hand up and place it between the back of your skull and the bathroom mirror. He saves you from cracking your head as casually as he licks at your cunt and shit, Peter still having that much awareness and control causes more slick to gather underneath his tongue. He’s so goddamn competent and you love it. 

“I asked you a question, baby.” His lips turn to the inside of your thigh, licking up your tangy wetness that has dripped there, biting into the meat of your thigh and laving it with his tongue while he waits for an answer. He’s being cruel and he knows it, normally he’d give you everything you want without question or much teasing, but tonight is different. It doesn’t matter that he’s rock hard in his dress pants, all that matters is reminding you that you belong to him and showing you no one else could love you this good. As if that was ever in doubt. 

“Yours, baby, it’s your cunt, yours.” 

He rewards you by diving back into you, tasting you on his tongue as he presses into you and surrounds himself with you, nose nudging at your clit as he licks into you and allows your hips to buck against his face. He can tell you’re close from the way you thrash, how your legs tense over his shoulders, but he knows you well enough to know you need more than just his lips on you.

Peter wraps his lips back around your clit and sucks at the same time as he presses a thick, long finger into you. You moan and twist, but it’s not enough, you feel so decidedly empty. Peter watches you from between your thighs, eyes looking up at you, at the puff of your cheeks as you hunt for a breath of air. Your hands tug at his hair with each suck and lick of his mouth.

Peter’s quick to press a second finger into you, curling the two of them just so against that spongy little spot inside you that has you crying out his name and gasping for air. His hand is still the only thing saving you from giving yourself a concussion. He’s downright relentless as he thrusts his fingers into you, curling against that spot each time, lips sucking and licking around your clit like a lollipop. 

It’s a third finger stretching you open, eased by the sheer amount of wetness that you drip with, and the subtlest graze of his teeth against your clit that has you cumming. Your legs wrapping so tight around Peter’s head he worries he might suffocate, at the same time as thinking that would be the best way for him to go out. Dying between your thighs seems like a pretty good way to go.

You whine his name so loud that he’s not even sure the heavy door can muffle it. Your body tensing and relaxing with the waves of your orgasm as Peter works you through it, lips pulling away from you, but fingers still pressing into you, more gently this time. “There you go, baby, look at you…so pretty for me. Prettiest woman I’ve ever seen…look at you…” 

He lets you push his hand away when it’s too much and pulls himself to his full height, slipping his fingers into his mouth and sucking you from his skin. You lean into him, pressing your cheek into his shoulder as Peter rubs circles into the back of your neck. Still soft, still tender as he waits for you to catch your breath and come back down from it all. 

“You okay, baby?”

“Mmm, more than okay, Pete…fuck, you trying to ruin me?” You lean back and finally look at him. Your lipstick is smudged, eyeliner running, hair an absolute mess. You look wrecked in the best sort of way and he knows it���ll be obvious what you’ve just done when you walk out into the bar on the way back to your apartment, but that’s what he wants. Wants them to look at you and him and know. 

“You just look so good like that, baby.” Peter’s hand wraps around your throat and your eyes roll back, already finding yourself getting worked back up again. He’s still so pristine looking, tie still in place, the only things rumpled are his hair and the lipstick marks across his lips and jaw. Compared to you he looks barely touched. 

Peter’s lips press against your jaw, kissing up to your ear, “think it’s time we went home now, don’t you, baby girl?”

You nod rapidly, unable to find the words as Peter helps you slip off the counter and pull your dress down. He never returns your panties and you know he’s not in the mood to give them back. Asking would be pointless. You look wrecked but don’t even care as Peter slips his arm around your waist and walks you back out to the party. 

You have to walk through the other guests to reach the exit, before Peter can swing you home and fuck you into the mattress. You smirk at Jessica as you pass by, her annoying face the picture of shock at the love bites and mussed hair you sport, at the specimen of a man wrapped around you in a black tie. 

Peter does much the same to David, a challenging lift of his brow, a reminder he never had a chance with a woman like you. It’s petty on both your ends, possessive and silly, especially considering you should be embarrassed about being eaten out in a bar bathroom, but it fills you with a sort of confidence that sways your hips more. 

He doesn’t really waste time; Once you’re out of the building and into an alleyway Peter’s tugging his mask in place and lifting you into his arms, eager to get you back to your shared apartment and out of your dress. He loves that dress on you, but right now, it’d look better on the floor. 

There’s no faffing about as you land on the fire escape and Peter urges you inside, backpack and mask thrown on couch as he presses into you, lips smothering your own in a heated kiss. You move backwards with him, trusting him to guide you through the apartment and not lead you into a wall. His kisses twist from your lips to your jaw as you make it into the bedroom, nipping down your neck and over your sternum. 

There’s very little talking as Peter turns you around and unzips your dress, pulling the red fabric from your body and letting it pool to the floor at your feet. Your strapless bra is next, unclipped and thrown to the side until all you are wearing are your shoes. You stand as patiently as you can, squirming on the spot as you wait for Peter’s next move.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so hot and all mine, right?” His fingertips skim over your shoulders, down your bare arms to twist with your own as he presses his front to your back. His excitement, hard and solid against you, as he presses kisses over your spine. 

“All yours, Pete.” You sigh it out, head dropping back against his chest behind you as he nips across your skin. 

“Promise?”

“Promise, only ever yours, I don’t want anyone else.” You’re pretty sure Peter Parker has ruined you for other people at this point. You’re pretty sure you’d only spend your life comparing them to him, if you can’t have Peter you might as well not have anyone. 

“Mmm, me neither, baby…you’re my baby, I don’t need anyone else” It thrills you to hear it from him, that it’s just you. That other women, other men, other people don’t interest him. Peter’s all yours and it’s all you want and all you need. 

He twists you in front of him, lips pressing down your chest and capturing a nipple between his teeth. The harsh tug causes a shaky breath to leave your throat as his fingers reach for your other breast. 

You’re urged backwards towards the bed, stepping out of your dress and heels as he licks, bites and sucks at your chest, leaving an innumerable number of love bites over your body, to the point you’re sure someone might start worrying about you. You love it though, the purpling evidence across your body of his devotion to you, evidence of his hunger for your skin. 

You gasp as he pushes you back to land on the bed with a bounce, before Peter covers you with his own body. He is warm and broad over you, all encompassing as he lifts one of your legs up to his hip. Still fully clothed you whine against him as he rocks into you, far too many layers separating the two of you.

“Pete, too many clothes!”

He tuts at you, “Oh no, you’re going to cum on my fingers before I get out of this suit, baby, think you can do that for me?” He wants to push you tonight, see how many orgasms he can wring from you before you’re tapped out and exhausted, till your cock drunk and unable to speak. Needs to make it up to you for that two hour wait, needs to make up for the fact he dragged you from the party after barely being there twenty minutes and the embarrassment you’re likely to feel later when you realise everyone at work saw you post-orgasm. 

You shake your head no, but your lips form the word ‘yes’ over and over. Peter urges your hips up as he slides a pillow underneath them to prop them up. His fingers trail down your stomach, before his hand cups your cunt and two fingers press into you without hesitation. You’re still so wet and warm from before that he has no problem sliding them inside you as you grind against his palm. Heat wells in your belly and twists itself in delicious knots. Your skin feels hot again, like you’ve caught the worst sort of fever and there’s a corny joke somewhere in the back of your mind that just about avoids your lips. 

“Baby…”

“I’ve got you, you know I've got you, sweet girl. Always got you.” He croons to you, lips hovering over your own, watching the way your eyes flutter shut as he presses into you and seeks out that spot again, thumb coming to circle your clit. Your hands grip his shoulders tight, without the layers of clothing your nails would be digging into his skin and he wishes he could feel it, the lash of pain across his back as you dig crescent moons into him, mark him as your own. 

You twist in his arms when he finds it, that spongy spot that makes you keen and throw your head back into the mattress. Peter sits up on his knees to find his balance, fingers still pushing in and out of your cunt, thumb still pressing circles across your clit, just up and to the left where you’re most sensitive. His free hand wraps around your neck, finding its home there like so many times before. It’s careful, but firm as he presses onto the sides of your throat and feels you moan under his palm, the light pressure causing blood to rush to your ears, intensifying the feeling building in your belly and the slick against Peter’s fingers. 

“There we go, baby. Look at you…so pretty, my pretty pretty baby.” He’s always like this, even when he’s teasing and rougher, Peter always croons praise at you like a song, a mantra. His words are sweet even as he pulls you apart from the inside out, a reminder that there is love and trust between you, that he loves you.

“Pete…” You’re not sure what you want to say, eyes opening halfway to watch him as he grins down at you, dimples pushing against his cheeks. He looks so hot like this, hand around your neck, still dressed to the nines, your lipstick smudged across his mouth like some sort of abstract painting. 

“C’mon, baby girl, I know you can do it, cum for me, c’mon…I got’chu.” Peter increases the pace of his fingers, rougher, harder, faster, as he tightens his hand around your throat and watches as your eyes roll back into your head, body shaking as you cum for him. Your toes always curl when you cum, and your legs kick out, one knocking into his side roughly. 

You shove his hands away from you for a moment, too sensitive for him to continue right away and watch as Peter brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks you from his fingers like his favourite dessert. 

“Mmm, you always taste so good, baby, don’t you agree?” His mouth presses to yours soon after the question is posed, your mouth prised open by his tongue as you taste yourself on his lips. You moan into his mouth and chase his lips when he pulls back.

It doesn’t matter that you’ve cum twice tonight, you’re not satisfied, eyes trailing over his fully clothed form to stop on the bulge in his pants. Fuck, you want him inside you so bad, he’s drawn it out tonight, a tease.

“You want something, sweetheart?”

You nod your head vigorously, leaning up onto your elbows as he steps back from the bed, smirking at you. “You. Want you, Pete…”

“Want me where?” You watch as he grabs his tie in one hand, loosening it from his neck. You’re not sure when removing a tie became so attractive, but Peter makes it so. Even more so as buttons begin to be opened and his freckled skin begins to be revealed with each of them. 

“In me. Want you in me, Pete.” Whatever embarrassment and bashfulness you had earlier has wilted and died along the way, two orgasms in and all you really want right now is his cock in your cunt as he leans over you with a hand around your throat. 

“Mmm, think you got one more in you, baby?” 

“Yes, yes…”

“Good girl, just be patient for me, mmm?” You nod your head and watch, squirming in place but patient as you watch Peter shrug his jacket from his shoulders and toss it unceremoniously across the room.

He’s slow as he unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt sleeves and finishes opening the buttons of his shirt. The white cotton slides from his shoulders like silk as it flutters to the ground. Your eyes follow the breadth of his shoulders, the lines of his torso, catching on familiar scars and freckles that you’ve kissed time and time again. 

“You’re so handsome, baby.” You watch the warmth reach his face, red shadows across his cheeks and ears, always unused to a compliment, but that’s why you always took the time to make them. “You’re so hot, Peter…fuck…” Your voice breathy and in awe of this man, this man who loves you and fucks you and needs you, wants you. 

“You that needy for me, sweet baby?” He’s tugging at his belt buckle, sliding the leather through the loops even with his dark eyes focused on you and he knows what you’re doing. You’re pushing back just a little bit. He’s teased you this entire time and now you’re trying to push back with your own, to get him to move quicker, it’s cute that you think you have any control here. 

“Mmm, always needy for you, Pete.” You wriggle a little in place, the movement of your hips catching his eye and stopping his hands in their tracks as they reach for the fly of his pants. He takes a moment, letting you stew in the realisation that he's only slowed down and not sped up. 

Your comments stop then, breath held as you return to patient silence, stilling your body even as your toes curl in anticipation. He begins again once you’re settled, trouser button popped and fly pulled down. Shoes kicked off before Peter steps out of his dress pants and boxers, bare before you. 

He lets you get a good look in, your eyes trailing over his tall form, the slimness of his waist, his cock weeping against his stomach, hard and wanting. He’s been hard since the bathroom at the bar, Peter’s patience and self-restraint always astounding to you. You don’t have it in you, you’re always needy and impatient when it comes to him and your desires. 

“You sure you’re up for one more, baby?” He asks as he makes his way to settle over you, arms on either side of your head, muscles bulging deliciously. He’s giving you an out, not that he’d ever continue anything without your permission. You know that about Peter intimately, he could be a second away from cumming and still he would pull out of you if you no longer wanted to keep going. It was that ability to trust in him that made it all so easy. 

“Mmm, yeah, Pete, need you,”

“You got me, you got me, sweet girl.” Peter urges your legs up and around his hips, cock dragging through the slickness of your cunt, once again glad you're on the pill and the lack of barrier between the two of you. You’re so warm and wet that it takes him a moment to compose himself, the head of his cock teasing your clit as your fingers dig into his back. Your body burns in the best sort of way, the slide of him against you sending tingles up your spine, so sensitive at this point that even just the touch of him to your clit has you contorting. 

Then he slides home, an easy slow thrust that has your hips lifting and nails carving crescent moons into his skin. Peter hisses at the tight clutch you have around his cock and the slight pain in his back, delicious and brilliant. He knows this is the last one, his restraint at the end of its tether. 

“Fuckkk…you’re so wet, baby…” His forehead drops to your shoulder, hips beginning to rock into your own, the slow drag of his cock against your walls drawing a long moan from your throat. “This all for me?”

“Mmmhmmm, all for you…” You’re not sure your brain works anymore, if you’re being honest. You feel like you’re swimming in sensation, your brain a little hazy, senses only focused on Peter. The drag of him through your walls, the touch of his lips to your neck, the smell of his shampoo in your nose. 

“You okay?” He chuckles at the way you look up at him a little dumb smile on your face, eyes half-lidded and hazy. He’d be worried if I hadn’t seen that look on your face before. This is definitely the last orgasm he’ll wring out of you tonight, anymore and it’d be pushing you past your breaking point. He can tell already.

“Mmm?”

“Just a little cockdumb, huh, baby? You like me filling you up?” You know he’s laughing at you, but you can’t really complain as he thrusts harder and surer with each rocking of his hips, can’t really complain when his hand is at your throat again, thumb pressing underneath your jaw and tilting your head to look at him. His eyes are so goddamn soft and warm, and fuck, he’s so handsome above you.

“Mmm, so good, Pete…not…”

“Not what, baby? Mmm, use your words for me.” You rock back into him, legs hiking further up his hips, dragging him deeper into you. The head of his cock hitting that spot in you as his hand slides down your body to your clit. 

“Not gonna last, so close, baby.” You jerk in his arms, feeling overwhelmed, so sensitive and so, so warm as you clench around him at his fingertips circling your clit. 

“You gonna cum for me? Where do you want me, sweet girl? Mmm? Where do you want me?” He’s close too, can feel the tightness in his stomach, but needs to know where you want him. Sometimes you don’t want the sticky feeling between your legs and sometimes you want him deep inside you. He has thoughts on it tonight too. Wants to cum in you and claim you, the only one to ever get to do it again. Not stupid men like David, they’ll never get the privilege, because it is a privilege to have you like this, to have your trust and submission to him. 

Your gasping for air, body burning so bright that you can barely keep your eyes open and on his own. “Cum in me, please, please Pete, fill me up…baby…” 

Thank fuck, Peter thinks, thank fuck you’re on the same page. His hand tightens around your throat, the other pressing roughly into your clit and rocking as deep as he can, barely pulling out of you, not wanting to miss this, miss cumming in you like you want, like he wants. “Mmm, want me to fill you up? Want me to fuck a baby into you? Our baby, huh?” Fuck, it’s a way off, he knows that. Knows you can’t get pregnant, knows that you need to get married first, get a bigger place, but shit if the idea doesn’t appeal to him. Taking you, filling you up with him, making a baby with you, your stomach round, tits growing. Fuck…He should be ashamed, but you’ve never let him feel bad about any impulse of his. 

“Yes, fuck, yes, Pete..” It doesn’t matter that you’re on the pill, that you’re not going to get pregnant, it’s the thought that counts, the idea of him claiming you, being yours totally and wholly. Having a piece of him with you. Of a family with him, a baby with his eyes and that impossible ability to get in trouble. 

“Gonna fill you up, baby, mark you up, make you mine, mmm? Wanna be mine?” 

“Yours, only yours, Pete…” You kiss over his neck, sucking a mark, deep and purple into his skin. A little sad knowing it’ll disappear within a few hours, healing before you can truly enjoy the sight of it on his skin.

“Then cum for me, sweet girl” He lowers his mouth to your ear, whispers it low and sweet so close that it feels like you’re the only two people in the world, his hand around your throat tightens and you’re falling, tumbling, diving over your third end of the night. Cumming around him, you grip him so tight that it doesn’t take long for him to follow, stilling as he cums in you, filling you up like you both wanted. 

The two of you gasp for breath, heaving chests as Peter lowers himself down onto you for a moment. The weight of him is a comfort as he softens inside you. Your hands trail over his back in soothing circles, the two of you just taking a moment to come down from it all. 

“Need to get you cleaned up, baby…” Peter speaks first, pulling out of you, the discomfort of his spend slipping from your body made obvious by your grimace. He gets off of you and tucks his arms underneath you, lifting your body from the bed and making his way to the bathroom. 

You’re both quiet as you stand under the warmth of the shower, taking turns to wash the other, soothing hands over bruise marks and broken skin. Hands washing the spend from your thighs and pressing soothing kisses to the marks on your hips, even as he smirks up at you, proud of himself, too proud. 

You’re warm and lax when you finally curl up in bed with Peter, the covers cool against your skin, and Peter’s heartbeat solid beneath your ear. 

“Sorry I was late…you did look beautiful tonight though.” You cuddle deeper into him. Not the least bit concerned about his lateness. You knew he’d be late, but he’d made it and in the end the look on Jessica’s face was worth the two hours waiting…so were the three orgasms. 

“Think you more than made up for it, Pete…” You laugh at him, pressing a kiss to his chest and closing your eyes. 

“Yeah?”“Mmm, I think I might not be able to walk tomorrow…”

“Good thing it’s a Sunday.” Good thing it’s Sunday indeed. 

You find the roses he brought you two days later in Peter’s backpack, wilted and crumpled, neglected in favour of his lips on your cunt and hand around your throat like an obscene necklace.

[spider-biter]

Table 25 (Steven Grant/reader)

Warnings: none

Words: a lot

Cross posted to Ao3! Reader is a host btw. This author doesn’t know how to add the read more area on mobile so 🫡

“Hey, I think we’re all good to go, just make sure the door is locked and you can leave,” I said to Becca, double checking the sections for tomorrow. Hostessing was just so fun.

“What? You getting overtime or something?” She raised her eyebrow. “Or do you have a super secret hot date right after this?” I rolled my eyes before grabbing the keys out of the drawer and passing them to her

“Shut up and lock the door or else I’ll make you stay and help the servers roll silverware,” I threatened.

“Fine by me then girl, just don’t get killed.” She quickly locked the door & double-checked it, before eyeing up table 25.

Table 25. The one that had held “mystery man” as we dubbed him. He clearly got stood up on a date, and I couldn’t help but stare at him all night. Rebecca had had an absolute field day with that.

“As if,” I scoffed, taking the keys away from her.

“You don’t know! The whole sad guy who got stood up could all be an act.” She whispered as she dug her own out of her purse.

“To do what exactly?”

“To… I don’t know!! Steal your kidneys!”

I smiled and rolled my eyes. “Fine, if I wake up tomorrow in a bath of ice minus one kidney I’ll call you. But for now go home!”

She flipped me off and then made half a heart with her pointer and middle finger before walking out the door.

I smiled and turned my attention back to the seating chart.

Check, check, and check.

Everything was all prepped for the openers, the sections were all cleared, it was just a few stragglers and….him.

Mystery man was around 5 9”, clearly British (which would’ve been -1 point but I am in London so), and had this aura about him. I would find myself glancing his way, staring at him throughout my shift. Of course my heart broke that he got stood up, I mean he looks like a 10. He was polite, even giving an old lady her quid that she dropped on the ground. And he was absolutely breathtaking.

His phone ringing snapped me out of my weird stalkerish trance.

Right. Job. Responsibilities. I signed off everything for the night and collected my things.

Punching in my number to clock out was quite possibly the slowest thing I’ve ever done. In all honesty I was dragging. What was tonight going to be except another night of the same exact thing I always do?

Sitting home alone with my cat, reading for class, taking a shower, then sleeping. I sighed. When was my life so boring? I should be out enjoying my life!!! But I’m stuck, at a shitty hosting job in a city that I’ve never even explored, with 3 friends, a cat, and no one else. Work was not the place to spiral so I quickly shoved those thoughts out of my head as I clocked out. I turned my head over to 25 to steal one last glance at mystery man.

His phone call seemed to be over, but in a very meloncholic way. His hand slowly dropped down, the phone long forgotten. He was muttering something under his breath, his brows furrowing in disbelief. It felt like slow motion, seeing his eyes get extra shiny, the aura around him completely shifting.

Something pushed me to go to him. It was one of those thoughts or impulses that shouted in your brain. It got louder

And louder

And louder.

The next thing I know, I’m 7 feet away from him and frozen.

What the actual fuck am I doing????

I don’t know him! I can’t just walk up to him and say “hi, I’ve been staring at you all night, and I have no idea who you are but should we go out on a date?” I should go home. Yep. That’s exactly what I should be doing.

Not messing with this man and his sad phone calls. Not getting involved in his life or getting lost in his eyes. Not planning out a life where we make breakfast together, study on late nights, or slow dance in our living room to Elvis Presley.

Not taking a risk that could end up being the best thing in my life.

Fuck.

The impulse was screaming in my head.

While I was having my quarter life crisis, his waiter finally came out of the back kitchen.

Time felt like it was in slow motion.

His waiter, Drew, approached him. “The kitchen is about to close sir, is there anything you would like before it does?”

I could feel my legs move towards table 25

“I- um- yeah-“ he stumbled over his words, clearly caught off guard. He cleared his throat, snapping him out of his own quarter life crisis.

Rebecca is gonna flip when she hears about this.

“We’ll have 2 house salads. No the tomatoes on mine, god I hate them.” I said. Both of them stared at me surprised as I set my bag down and sat in the plush leather chair.

“Also, please for godsakes, don’t have Allen make them. I swear to god he makes them taste like sand. Do you want tomatoes?” I asked the mystery man who was blinking at me as if I wasn’t real.

We sat in silence for all of 2 seconds before he finally caught up.

“To- oh yes! Um- sure I’ll gladly have tomatoes!”

“Strike 1.” I said smiling. “What dressing do you want?” I picked up the menu, even though I could recite all of the dressings in my sleep. Thank you training!

“Um- do you have balsamic?” He asked trying to search the menu.

Drew looked completely stunned. She had been staring at both me and the mystery man for a solid minute during the entire tomato-dressing conversation. Both I and the mystery man looked up at her when she finally snapped out of it and scribbled on her waiter pad.

“Yes! Yes we do have balsamic. You said 2 house?” She asked me.

I nodded and handed her my menu.

“One 86 tomatoes, with French vinaigrette. The other with balsamic. I’ll also take a water please. And you can just bring the check whenever, I know you wanna go home.” I smiled up at her and took mystery man’s menu out of his way, and passed it up to her. She shot me a smile of appreciation before grabbing them and hustling to the kitchen.

I turned back to MM and smiled.

Oh shit.

“Don’t forget my discount or I’ll double seat you next shift!” I quickly yelled back to her. She gave me a thumbs up out of the kitchen door.

I turned back to MM smiling. “Sorry if you didn’t want a salad” I blushed as reality finally hit me.

I’m on an impromptu date, with a random man I’ve never met, only gazed longingly at. What the actual fuck.

He seemed to be realizing the same thing too, except he also realized that I had said something.

“No! Nononono- I’m- im vegan so I was probably going to get the salad anyways- I mean I was about to go home but then you came in and now im about to eat a salad with a wonderful mystery person, who’s name I don’t even know…” he rambled.

Drew dropped a glass of water off at the table and winked at me as she went by. I flipped her off before turning back to mystery man.

“Well, to be fair I don’t know your name” I pointed out, sipping my water. He looked surprised before his eyes softened.

“Grant. Steven Grant,” he smiled

“Steven Grant. Do you normally introduce yourself like a super secret international spy or am I just special?” I raised my eyebrow.

He laughed.

And I’ve never heard anything more angelic in my life.

“Nope, ah- it’s just a you thing I guess” he smiled.

“Well Steven” I said elongating his name, “I do hope that if you are a super secret international spy, you at least bring me to one of those cool spy galas they always have.”

Just imagining this man in a full tuxedo did something that was not meant to be felt in my workplace.

He softly chuckled, “I wish- I’m just a gift shopist at the museum,”

“Do you like it?” I asked him.

“What?” He was caught off guard. He probably expected me to just nod and continue on.

“Do you like your job?” I questioned.

“I- um- yeah I guess so” he said

“Then you’re not ‘just’ a gift shopist. You’re doing something you love,” I smiled softly.

He furrowed his brow, as though he never thought of it like that. He looked up from his hands on the table and smiled at me. “Yeah- I uh- I guess so huh?”

“I promise I’m not usually this optimistic about life” I smirked.

“So it’s just a me thing huh?” He joked. My heart was going to beat right out of my chest.

“Yeah… it is just a you thing I guess” I repeated his words back to him, my chest filling with warm fuzzies.

We sat there like 2 idiots smiling before he quickly realized something.

“Well what do you do? Wait- well like obviously you host here but, besides that”

It was my turn to be embarrassed. “Um- I’m actually uh- getting my doctorate right now..” I looked away. I’ve never been this embarrassed talking about myself before. What was this man doing to me??

“Wicked!! That’s awesome, what are you studying?” He was genuinely interested. His eyes shined with excitement. I haven’t felt so validated in my life.

“Uh- The psychological theology side of ancient cultures with a focus on Egyptian and Aztec deities. Like why did they believe in these gods? Why are theirs animalistic when every other culture sees the gods as flesh and bone human?” I don’t know why I went into as much detail. Most dates I go on, they barely ask me what I do with my life, let alone the topic of my dissertation.

2 beats of silence and I wanted to bash my head through a door.

“That’s….. absolutely incredible”

What. The. Fuck.

“You think?”

“I know! That’s bloody amazing! Egyptians saw their gods as animals as a way to keep them tied to their specific nature throughout time-“ he cut himself off, as though he just realized something. “Was this entire conversation just to keep me from learning your name?” He said as a joke

“No of course not!” I said mock offended.

He leaned closer to my side of the table, smiling. “Then what is it?”

I rolled my eyes and said my name. He repeated it back.

“Ding ding ding. Although the last part might be changing soon” I smirked and stirred my drink.

“Changing? To what?” He said, very confused.

I smiled and leaned across the table. I whispered softly in his ear.

“Grant.”

[thevindicativevordan]

Why isn't Nightwing a bigger deal? He has all of Batman's skills and Superman's faith in humanity and is arguably the most beloved hero in the DCU, but most people seem to know him either as the leader of the N̶o̶t̶ ̶J̶L̶ Teen Ttians or just Robin.

Thank you for asking me about Nightwing, I've been wanting to write a piece about him for a while now. The short version is that everyone who claims Dick becoming Nightwing was him "moving out of Batman's shadow and becoming his own man" is completely wrong.

Dick Grayson is a fantastic character, someone who saved Bruce Wayne in-universe both by forcing Batman to grow up a bit, and the countless times he saved Batman's life as his partner whether as Robin or Nightwing. Dick saved Batman in the real world as well, hard to believe but Batman was actually in danger of being cancelled due to poor sales early on. Enter Robin, a young daredevil audience stand in the creators hoped would get kids interested in reading Batman. And it worked! Sales on Batman doubled once Robin showed up which is crazy to think about, but Dick Grayson has always been a popular character. Cartoons like Teen Titans, Batman: The Animated Series, and The Batman only helped grow his audience.

Character-wise, Dick Grayson really does fill a number of crucial roles in the DCU. For Batman, Dick is proof that Batman is a positive force. Meeting Batman helped change Dick for the better, helped him heal after his parents died. With Dick, Batman can take comfort in knowing that yes, he has made a difference in the world for at least one orphan boy, which is all he wanted when he lost his parents himself. To the wider DCU, Dick is a friendly face who convinces others that Batman is competent and not a complete asshole. He took this kid in, trained him to be one of the best heroes the DCU has seen, and did it all out of the kindness of his heart. That someone like Dick can confront the evils of Gotham and not break means there's still hope for that city. As Robin, Dick has led the Titans and is an icon in his own right as The Sidekick, the original, the one every other Robin is built around copying or contrasting. The one all other superhero sidekicks are drawing on as a basis. As Robin Dick Grayson is very much on Batman's level.

Just not as Nightwing. As Nightwing, Dick has been a second rate Daredevil which means he's a third rate Batman (fully prepared to get hate for this but I've read and enjoyed the Miller and Bendis DD runs so I feel entitled to my opinion). A typical Nightwing run tends to go like this: Moving to Bludhaven (which is Gotham... but WORSE!), Dick Grayson usually enrolls in a pointless job we don't care about in order to provide some meaningless soap opera drama that doesn't go anywhere. Patrolling the city as Nightwing, he fights a variety of bad guys who are usually rather lame and unthreatening, with his big bad being a Kingpin knockoff called Blockbuster. Villains are fought, long running plotlines are set up, then everything is abandoned because it's Batfamily event time, and Dick has to run back to Gotham in order to play sidekick again. Usually his involvement is completely superfluous and it would've been better if the writer had gotten to opt out. By the time we finally get back to Nightwing's solo plotlines, the audience has usually ceased to care and the run gets cut short.

That's how Nightwing has been since the New 52 at least. Anyone who thinks that's "becoming their own man" is out of their mind. Dick is so thoroughly in Batman's shadow that he got shot in the head and spent a longer time as "Ric" which everyone fucking hated and sold like shit, than he did as Agent Grayson which was extremely well-received. Reiterating: Ric went on longer than Grayson because of a fucking Batman plotpoint Tom King wanted where Bruce was sad and cut off from the Batfamily because of Dick getting shot. Not just calling out King either, how many times was Kyle Higgins Nightwing run derailed because of Scott Snyder's crossovers? Or how about that entire run getting dumped to the side because Johns wanted to out Dick during Forever Evil, a Justice League/Lex Luthor story? DC has repeatedly made their contempt for Nightwing clear, he's Batman's sidekick still in their eyes, and he serves whatever story role the Batman writer wants.

Hell his best stories tend to have been the ones where he's not Nightwing. He was Robin in a good chunk of the Wolfman/Perez New Teen Titans run. Morrison really showcased his depth as a character when they wrote him as Batman, their time with Dick under the cowl was actually one of the first Batman runs I ever read, and no Nightwing run has ever matched it in terms of quality in my humble opinion. Scott Snyder's work with DickBats also was a high point for the character, showing Dick as competent and examining his relationship with Gotham and the Gordons. King and Seeley gave him one of the best comic runs with Grayson, a series where he wasn't even a "superhero" technically! When it comes to actual pre-New 52 Nightwing runs that are highly recommended where he *is* Nightwing, there's Chuck Dixon and uhhhhhhh... Tomasi's brief run before Dick became Batman? It's not exactly an overwhelming list.

Look there has been good work done with Nightwing, I'm not claiming there hasn't been. Tim Seeley wrote a great run with Nightwing Rebirth. Seeley fleshed out Dick's Rogues Gallery with cool new ones like Raptor, he brought back old foes like Dr. Hurt (why oh why couldn't you have brought back Flamingo too?), he gave Dick's world some character it solely needed. Bludhaven under Seeley is pretty much the only time I've really felt like it lived up to being Dick's city.

The problem with fictional cities is you have to put in the work to give them the character of real cities. You have to make the cities feel like characters in their own right. Gotham is the best example of this, it's a character all it's own, one that tells you a lot about Batman and his cast. In contrast Bludhaven is usually one of the worst. Any place that wants to claim to be worse than the city that is built over the gate to hell and gets wrecked every other month by the Arkham freaks has to really put in the work to compete. Simply put, Bludhaven typically fails utterly. There's nothing about it that makes you really buy it's worse than Gotham, I mean does anyone really think Nightwing's Rogues wouldn't get their lunches eaten by Batman's? No, no one genuinely buys that. When Bludhaven claims to be worse, it just comes across as tryhard, an attribute that does end up telling you about Nightwing in unintentional ways.

So Seeley didn't do that. Instead he created a city built for a hero like Dick Grayson. Someone who is bright and flashy, but does have an element of darkness to him. Someone who loves the spotlight, but often uses it to obscure. Seeley turned Bludhaven into Las Vegas, and that was the fucking best concept for Bludhaven I have ever seen, it makes so much sense. Las Vegas is the "Entertainment Capital of the World" and isn't that the perfect city for a hero who got their start working in the circus? Isn't the aesthetics of the gleaming casinos, the glamorous sex appeal of the performers, and the spectacle of the shows, all being used to cover up the seediness of mob bosses meeting backstage perfect for Nightwing? It's so utterly unlike New York City, yet Las Vegas is still dangerous, it's got a crime culture all it's own. Seeley used it to great effect, as did Humphries during his brief run, and I will always be pissed that DC didn't continue to use it. That should have stuck around and been the definitive look for Bludhaven.

How Seeley's take on Bludhaven was treated feels like a small scale version of how Nightwing in general gets treated. Whenever creators pitched ideas for him, if editorial thought there was potential to break big, they asked for those ideas to be repurposed for Batman instead. Anything big or good gets repurposed for Batman or tossed to the side so Nightwing can go back to his default: having irrelevant adventures in a city that is supposedly worse than Gotham but can't live up to it. Just like how Nightwing is supposedly better than Batman but never gets to show it. Goddamn it's so frustrating seeing his potential get wasted like that.

The Nightwing book should be one of DC's most ambitious books in terms of storytelling. You can go from traditional superhero stories, to romantic soap opera, to spy stories, to crime noir, to horror, to cosmic adventures, and ALL of them would fit because Nightwing is someone who has a foot in both Gotham and Metropolis. He's got friends everywhere on every team, and has been a hero longer than most Leaguers have at this point. No reason DC should still be afraid to let him loose and insisting on hewing close to what Dixon established almost over 30 years ago is only holding him back. At the very least get him some better Rogues, why the hell didn't he get to keep Professor Pyg? That's Dick's villain not Bruce's! Bullshit that they didn't let Dick keep him. Hopefully Flamingo comes back, with a slight revamp I think he'd make a great reoccurring Nightwing Rogue.

Luckily it does look somewhat like Nightwing fans have reason to be optimistic. While Taylor isn't to my taste, DC clearly views him as a "big" writer, and that they put him on Nightwing says a lot. Taylor has been selling well so far, so hopefully he gets to tell his story, hilarious that even he lampshaded having to write Dick running over to Gotham for another tie-in after Taylor's big opening arc was all about Dick committing himself and his money to Bludhaven. Scott Snyder is apparently working on a Black Label Nightwing book which will explore how he's a different detective than Bruce. The Gotham Knights video game has him as one of the main stars, and while Titans is... controversial, it's one of the most popular streaming shows and Dick is the main character. There's a lot of content coming that features him in the starring role, and that will only help his star rise further.

For the first time in, well, ever it feels like DC may be serious about elevating him. Time will tell if it pays off, but I for one choose to be optimistic that the 2020s will be a turning point for Dick Grayson where Nightwing becomes hugely popular in his own right. Not just as Batman's sidekick.

[kerubimcrepin]

Liveblog 4: Oh god this liveblog will have 50+ posts I now realize.

Unlike the previous episode, here, the ever present Schrödinger's city wall is real, though it is still different from the OP.

I could make a joke about all cops being pigs, and the fact that they are literally patrolling the streets in this episode to harass homeless people... but yeah that's exactly what's going on here, no jokes needed.

In 610-ish years, during Waven era, Joris Jurgen, then-regent and ruler of Bonta, will be waging war on the pig people, one that may or may not involve cannibalism on both sides. But for now, he is eepy, 7 years old, and being woken up by them. It's kinda like poetry, you know?

Don't know why, but that's a very good image of Keke. Exhudes a good amount of smugness.

Says the man who will proceed to do it for 600 more years anyway. Get boiled, idiot.

One of the thing's that's very consistent with Jurgen-Crepins is the usage of kicking and jumping in battles. There's a theme here. If they were actually ready and not being beaten up during the OVA, they'd be all over Ush, like fleas.

The thing is that, even if we don't know why Lou left, Kerubim and Luis probably do. Their every conversation is pretty suspect, practically screaming "I know something you don't :)", as many aspects of this show do.

Even if they don't know all the details, they know much more than we ever will.

So, a few tenets of the Lou theorizing:

She left sad, and unlike many other times, without any anger for Kerubim.

She left Luis with him to watch over him.

She also left Luis because he couldn't go with her, but that could mean many things.

She left after Ecaflip City, obviously, and at that time, their relationship seemed the healthiest. (Well, as healthy as it could be.)

Unlike all the other times, Kerubim didn't go searching for her. It seems this separation was final in a way no other was, and there had to be a reason that he didn't go and try to make up. An unsolvable issue.

Both Luis and Kerubim blame Kerubim, and the first one uses this to make the second one angry.

So, what is it that made her leave, and do Luis and Kerubim fully know? I have my own theories, after watching the show around ten or twenty times. They aren't answers, obviously. I don't think we'll ever get an answer from Ankama, ever. But there's no harm in spitballing. However, it'll have to wait.

Get boiled, idiot.

The day I stop talking about how Simone is Joris's cooler aunt, is the day I die. She loves him so much just from one meeting.

Guy who is normal about Crepinlore voice: "Yeah, in the second episode? For breakfast, they're eating croissants, butter, jam, light tea for Kerubim and Simone, and milk for Joris, all of which is a traditional French breakfast. Yeah, when Joris bites it you can see that the croissants have white or yellow filling, which might be cheese, vanilla, or condensed milk—

Yeaaaah, but this isn't as crazy as that time in a future episode where Joris pours chocolate milk into a hot drink which might be tea, hot chocolate, or cocoa. He is insane, you know."

Even as a child, his twisted and evil arc of drinking things through a straw has already started....

The face journeys this man goes on in these series are far more complex than even his twisted fucking cycling path of a character arc, and that's saying something.

Even by age 7 he is utterly deep in the boufbowl brainrot. Sad!

"The woman there didn't even like beer, which is a sign of evil." I love you Kerubim, but you really shouldn't have parental rights.

And yes. He does have parental rights. It's officially on record, even 200-ish years later. I guess that despite losing his back-up lives and developing a new, infinitely more insane parent-child bond, he and Joris never updated their papers to match the legend of Joris being his dad.

Even without meeting her, Joris understands that Lou was a Girlboss. That she scared the life out of his amazing and all-capable papycha. Her sheer power is indescribable, Lou fans stay winning, etc etc,

and yeah I want to boil her into soup too. I hate them both. (I say this with love.)

Anyway how many times do you think Joris has seen Luis commit violences upon Kerubim? Normal household. As was already proven in my 2nd liveblog.

I will hunt Luis for sport.

[marilynmonroefanfics]

Ares falling in love with a mortal...

Your father, Cleomenes, was a talented man and was a trusted servant of King Anaxandridas l, King of Sparta.

Unfortunately, his proximity to the king did not pleased the nobles.

Your father was eventually murdered, the nobles denied any involvement in the murder, you were only five years old.

In an act of kindness, King Anaxandridas ended up adopting you.

He gave you a good education, and you were treated like a real prince.

Princes Cleomenes, Dorieus, Leonidas and Cleombrotus treated you like a real brother.

Everything was going well, but when you were ten, your "father" Anaxandridas started acting very strangely.

Fortunately, your brothers managed to keep Anaxandridas under control.

The strangest moment happened when you were eighteen years old, Anaxandridas declared that the gods of Olympus were petty and foolish, and that they only cared for themselves.

Anaxandridas was declared mad and unable to exercise power, he was also deposed as King of Sparta, and was replaced by his eldest son, Cleomenes.

When Zeus heard the words of Anaxandridas, he sent Ares, God of Courage and War, to make the city of Sparta pay for the crimes of the former King.

Zeus had no mercy, and ordered the city to be completely destroyed.

And that brings us to the present, the palace was on fire, the city was falling apart, despair and death filled the streets.

You ran to the throne room, maybe your brothers and father would be there.

When you arrived at the throne room, you found Anaxandridas, fighting a man.

"F-Father, what's going on?"

Anaxandridas looked at you, fear in his eyes.

"Y-Y/N? Get out of here!"

In the few seconds that your father was distracted, the mysterious man stuck his sword in Anaxandridas' chest.

Anaxandridas fell to the floor, blood coming out of his mouth.

You were panicking, your father was dead and your brothers were nowhere to be seen.

"I've been watching you, little mortal." said the unknown man, his voice was deep and strangely hot.

"W-who are you?"

He came towards you, he was quite tall and had a very muscular and hunk physique.

"I am Ares, God of War." he said taking you in his arms.

You tried to break free from Ares' arms, but you couldn't, he was just so much stronger than you..

"Where are my brothers?"

Ares laughed, a deep and joyful laugh.

"Your brothers? They abandoned you!"

It could not be true! Did your brothers really abandoned you?

"I know you are sad, little mortal, however I have an offer for you."

Perhaps, a little reluctantly, you accept going to Olympus with Ares.

But there was not much you could do, your family abandoned you and your City-State was on fire.

However you understood your place on Olympus very quickly,

You and Ares lived as a married couple, just to keep up appearances..

You shared the same bed, but you "didn't give him any" you knew he just wanted to get in your pants.

"A-Ares..."

One day, while coming home, you found Ares in YOUR BED, having sex with Aphrodite.

The shock was too much, you fell into a deep coma.

For four mouths you were in a deep sleep

For four months, Aphrodite and Ares were mistreated by the other Gods.

Athena and Hera, scolded Ares a lot, they didn't knew how Ares could do that to you.

You were so kind and helpful to the Gods, they had your back 100%.

"H-Hey...How are you feeling?"

"You have some fucking balls, showing up here after what you did to me!".

Ares had fallen in love with you the moment he saw you.

The truth is he was scared, you were so perfect, so beautiful.

Ares could imagine his hands on your body, pleasuring you, making you feel good, giving you what you wanted..

He was going to make this the right way.

"Listen Y/N, I'm not good at expressing my feelings...let me just say this." Ares continued. "I know that I have brought you great pain and for that I'm forever sorry, You may punish me however you want." Ares started slightly crying. "But please...I beg you, give a chance, teach me how to love you, for I am your servant from now on...I swear that I will protect you from this day foward, I will bring you no more pain, only pleasure."

Maybe giving Ares a chance wouldn't be so bad, let's see how that goes.

[mayans-sauce]

Golden Girl (1/2)

Found on Google

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.3K

Warnings: cursing, mention of death(?), mention of smut (barely), alcohol use, angsty, sad and insecure lil boy, kind of cheesy in the end but oh well it’s cute I think.

Request from anon I have a request for Angel! The reader is very successful in her personal life, and could be considered a "golden girl". She and Angel start dating, but when she asks to meet his family and friends, Angel pushes it off because he doesn't want to introduce her to EZ. He's afraid they'll have so much in common that she'll realize she picked the wrong Reyes brother. One day the reader takes matters into her own hands and goes to the scrap yard to meet them, and Angel comes back to find them all talking to her, and EZ is sitting next to her. The reader sees Angel and smiles at him, but he walks back out feeling insecure and over thinking. She goes after him, asks him what's wrong and he confesses his insecurities, she comforts and reassures him, and they live happily ever after! THE END!

A/N: I’m so sorry this request comes so late! I recently got inspired to write this. I was supposed to keep this short but I just kept on writing and adding on and it turned into a longer thing. It’s weird idk but I hope you enjoy<3

Part. 2

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“Angel! Come on, we’ll be late, let's go,” you walked into your shared bedroom to go and get him. You were supposed to be at your father’s party 10 minutes ago. This was the first time you would bring Angel along, and he was nervous as fuck. This wasn’t some regular party like the ones he was used to; it was a business party. A lot of your dad’s investors would be present, discussing business and looking at the new invention his company, Techno Trends, had developed, a green source of energy that was powerful enough to light up a whole city for a year. It was a big deal, and Angel had doubts that he would fit in with all the big shot guys.

He was smoothing over his black suit, his hands trembling as he tried to adjust every piece to look presentable. “Babe,” you wrapped your arms around his torso, giving him some comfort, “please don’t be nervous. It is going to be fine. My dad loves you, and he’s so excited for you to come to one of the parties finally.” He wrapped his hands around yours, his shoulders relaxing at your comforting words and touch, “It’s not your dad I’m worried about.”

He had repeatedly declined your offer to go with you when you asked him. The fear of feeling small and stupid amongst these guys turned him off on the idea of going, but he had agreed in the end. Sooner or later, he would have to go. You turned him around, so he was looking at you.

“I will be with you the entire time. I promise I won’t leave your side. You know I’m not the biggest fan of these parties myself.” Your dad was a very important man, and it was vital for him to have you by his side. You were, in a way, the senior CEO, and your input and decisions were important to him. As much as you were considered the “Golden Girl,” you were still mischievous and full of life, and outside of business, you didn’t bother to mingle with the rich and powerful. You had your own life that you lived, but for business sake, you needed to be presentable and put on your pretty smile.

He let out a deep breath and nodded his head, giving you his smile that made you smile even more prominent. “Let’s go, Reyes.”

You held his hand the entire time as you walked up the steps to the company building. After going through the security check, you searched the crowd for your dad but didn’t find him anywhere. He was the highlight of the party; how could he not be anywhere. That’s when you felt a tap on your shoulder; as you turned around, you were met with him. “Dad,” you hugged him. “Hi, sweetheart.” Angel reached out his hand for him to shake, “Sir.” “Angel, please, I’ve told you before, call me Y/F/N, now bring it in.” Angel smiled, feeling as accepted as the first time he met your father. They hugged each other, and Angel felt more relaxed. Angel felt even more comfortable with your dad around; they did kind of have the same life.

Your dad wasn’t always the CEO of one of the biggest tech companies in the world. He was more like Angel in his younger years, an outlaw, someone who did whatever they wanted and didn’t care about the consequences. He was part of a club, doing the same illegal things Angel and his crew were doing. But after the death of your mother when you were a baby, which was caused by his involvement in the club, he knew he needed to leave. He didn’t want his only daughter to grow up without a father, so he left. Leaving his old life behind and starting a new one. It wasn’t easy, being an ex-outlaw, but your dad was smart, brilliant, and his mind was the one of a genius. So after years of struggle and sacrifice, he had finally found success in the company he founded from the ground up.

Your dad loved Angel, and he never judged him. He knew the life and how much of a struggle it could be. But he thought he was a good man and he was happy you had found him.

The night had gone as expected. You had to have boring conversations with the investors, putting on your enhanced smile and charm to get them to give you their money. Angel tried his best to keep up, smiling and nodding in agreement at all the boring things these rich men said, with their expensive suits and snobby smiles.

He and you were relieved when the food and alcohol came, digging in the small dishes that were served. “This tastes like shit,” he whispered in your ear, carefully chewing the food not to be impolite, but all he wanted was to spit it out. “I know, it always does. Let go grab burgers when the party’s over, deal?” “Deal.”

Toward the end of the night, as people were mingling with everyone, you and Angel found yourself a seat in the corner, away from the big talks, and just relieved in a moment with only the two of you. His arms were around your shoulder as you people watched. “Angel, I’ve wanted to ask you something.” “Hmm?” was all he uttered, not averting his eyes from the crowd. “So now that you’ve seen all of this, more of my personal life, when can I properly meet EZ and the rest of the gang? I feel like you don’t want me to meet them. Is something going on?”

He felt a lump forming in his throat. For a long time, he’s been afraid that you would find out that he didn’t want you to meet EZ. Afraid that EZ fit more for this lifestyle of yours and that you would realize that you picked the wrong brother to be with. This environment was more for EZ. He was smart and could contribute heavily to the company. “I-I,” he cleared his throat, “EZ has just been busy lately, you know, prospecting and shit.”

You just left the topic at that, knowing that he wouldn’t budge. Something was going on. There was a reason that he didn’t want you to meet EZ, and he was insecure to tell you why. So you would take matters into your own hands and go over to the clubhouse to properly introduce yourself tomorrow.

------------

Since Angel didn’t want to introduce you to his family, you would do so yourself. When Angel was out and about doing some stuff on his own, you took the liberty to go over to the scrapyard to meet everyone.

Once you arrived, you felt a little nervous. Yes, all the guys knew who you were, but they had never really met you properly; you’ve only just seen them in passing and such, exchanging a few words here and there.

You pulled yourself together and opened the door to the clubhouse. Everyone turned to look who it was. They were expecting Angel to walk in, but instead, they found his girlfriend standing there, not sure what to do. “Y/N!” They all said in unison. That made you let out a deep breath. Good, they were excited that you were here.

They walked over to you, and each of them hugged you, expressing how happy they were that they could finally meet you. They offered you a beer and a seat at one of the tables. The talking didn’t stop from the minute you arrived. They asked you questions about yourself, your job, your family, and some gossip about Angel that they may not know.

As time went on, people started to arrive at the clubhouse for a party they were holding. As most of the guys scattered around the room, some in search of alcohol, girls, or just a game of pool, you found yourself having a conversation with EZ about the upcoming tech from Techno Trends.

The guy was smart and knew what he was talking about. It kind of made you mad at Angel for not introducing you sooner to his brother. EZ had some pretty good ideas that would be of big help to the company.

EZ had just told you a funny joke as Angel entered the room. His eyes locked on you and him having a good time. At first, he was confused; how in the hell did you get here? Was that really you, or did he see things? No, it was you. He couldn’t mistake you for anyone else.

You were laughing hard, placing your hand on EZ’s shoulder for support since the alcohol had made you a little wobbly. Angel could feel himself building up with rage. This was precisely what he didn’t want to happen, and it was now unfolding in front of his eyes. As you had calmed down from the laughing fit, you found his gaze, and you smiled big, waving at him to come over, but your face turned sad when you saw him, anger on his face but still a little trace of wetness in his eyes. He stormed out of the doors, and you were fast on your heels to catch up to him.

“Angel!” He sat down on one of the picnic tables a little further away from the building. “Angel,” you walked over, standing in front of him. He didn’t meet your gaze; his eyes focused on a bottle cap on the ground.

“What is going on, Angel? What was that inside?” You crossed your arms, waiting for an answer. “The shit I didn’t want to happen!” His voice was poisonous as he spoke. “You and EZ. The perfect match, the perfect couple. The golden girl and golden boy together as they were meant to fucking be! King and Queen of the fucking company.” “What the fuck are you talking about?” “You will leave me. You will realize that EZ is better for you and your life instead of the fuck up and worthless piece of shit that is me, and… fuck, you will leave because why would you be with someone like me…”

You let him have his little rant; he needed to let it out one way or another, and taking this to the ring wasn’t an option. As much as it hurts you to hear all these things, you let him vent, and after this, you would love, comfort, and cherish him for the rest of your life together, as he deserves.

“... I’m dumb, worthless..” he continued to say untrue things about himself, and you knew you needed to stop him. You felt tears in your eyes the more he went on saying hurtful things about him. “Angel… ANGEL!” You grabbed his face with both of your hands to get him to look at you and shut him up in the process.

“Stop.. just stop... I love you, only you! How can you not see that?” “I-I just..” “No, Angel! Nothing just.” “Please listen to me when I say these things and know they are coming straight from my heart, baby.”

“I love that when I wake up in the morning, and your beautiful and breathtaking face is the first thing I see in the morning. It starts my day with a kick, and I know that the rest of the day will be good.”

“I love when I come home from work, and I walk into the kitchen, and there you are, almost burning the house down trying to be a gentleman and cook me dinner,” that made you both chuckle, and that alone made your heart jump a thousand times, “and we just end up ordering takeout but I still appreciate you for trying.”

“I love when I’m having a bad day, and you are there to cheer me up. Telling me jokes, being your goofy self, or buying me chocolate that we eat way too much of an almost vomit.”

“The sex. God the sex. Best I’ve ever had, I love it. You really know how to work those hips, babe, and make me weak in my core.” He had his grin on his face, and you knew that he would bring this up multiple times and give it to you good and hard just how you liked it.

“I love when we go to sleep, and you keep me safe and warm from the scary outside world, telling me weird and questionable stories about you and Coco. Just you and me in our own little comfort and safety bubble.”

“EZ means nothing to me besides being a friend and a brother I never had. Yes, he’s bright and smart and could elevate the game at the company if he wanted to, but Angel, I love you, just you.”

“If I were to tell you all that I love about you, we would spend a year on this bench. I love you, Angel Ignacio Reyes, only you, until the day I fucking die.”

At this point, you were both crying happy tears. You had told Angel everything, the truth, and nothing but the truth, and you could feel it in his aura that he understood this.

“Querida I,” you spoke before he had the chance to go further, “Angel, we have all the time in the world to express each other’s feelings more, but for now, please just hug me, you big idiot.”

He stood up and wrapped his arms around you, lifting you up to wrap your legs around him. You held each other for a good while, unspoken words expressed between you both as you cling to one another. He was grateful, you could feel it, and he loved you more than anything in the universe.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, Angel.”