#agnst

couldn’t help it - bf!peter parker ⟡ ݁ .⊹ ₊

(check THIS and THIS peter smut)

the movie had been playing for a few minutes, but neither of you were paying attention. you were too busy sitting in peter’s lap. your fingers lazily wandered through his messy curls, brushing against the nape of his neck.

peter had his face buried in the warm curve of your neck. his breath was slow and warm against your skin as he pressed lazy kisses there. one behind your ear, another trailing down your jaw. his hands, which had been resting on your waist, gripped your thighs and pulled you even closer, like he didn’t want a single inch of space between you.

you tilted your head, giving him more room, and a shiver ran down your spine when his lips found that little spot right behind your ear. his hands started to explore, slowly sliding up your back, pulling you into an embrace that was pure want. when he lifted his head, his dark eyes were half-lidded, focused on your mouth. you didn’t wait. you leaned in and kissed him. slowly at first.

without thinking, your hips started to move. a slow, circular motion, a gentle grind in his lap. you felt his body tense beneath his sweats, and a muffled groan escaped peter’s throat, swallowed by your mouth.

he matched your rhythm, lifting his hips to meet yours, creating a delicious friction that made you bite down on his lip a little harder. his sweatpants did nothing to hide how hard he was, and the feeling of him pressing against you, even through the fabric, was almost unbearably good.

peter’s hands slid up your ribs slowly, then moved to the front. he cupped your breasts, his fingers finding your nipples through the thin fabric of your top. he squeezed, and a gasp escaped your lips.

the room felt hotter. both of you were breathing heavy, more ragged. you could feel your own heart racing as the pace quickened.

suddenly, he stopped.

the kiss just ended. he pulled his face back, panting, his chest rising and falling. his hands, which had been on your breasts, moved quickly to cover his own face. there was something strange in his expression, almost like he was embarrassed.

you frowned, a confused smile tugging at your lips. “what’s wrong, baby?” you whispered. he just shook his head, tipping it back like he was exhausted. or trying to hide.

you leaned in and started pressing soft little kisses to his cheek, then along his jaw, trailing down to his neck.

when you got closer to his ear, he finally spoke, his voice coming out in a rough, muffled whisper. “I think… I think I just came in my pants”

you froze for a second. your eyes went wide and a genuine laugh slipped out before you could stop it. “please don’t laugh” he begged. poor peter. but you couldn’t help it.

"What would they think of me now?"

"Well, I think you're pretty great."

Don't give up on me!

I know you won't fly!

And I know YOU know!

Fount of Knowledge x You (Manga style)

Scenario: You stood your ground at the Spire, fending off the uprising cookies with everything you had. But they came in overwhelming numbers, far too many to hold back alone. Blow after blow, your body gave way, each injury more severe than the last. By the time your lover found you, you were barely clinging to life, your breath shallow, your strength spent. And in that fragile moment, as he held you in his arms, the deceit he had long buried finally broke free and was no longer something he could deny.

Anyway, I'm going back to being dead. Bye!

Word Count: 1.3K words

toji comes home after 3 years of being in prison on your bday, you guys got into a huge argument the week beforehand and haven't spoken sense!! the only way he got through prison was your sexy alluring voice before bed since he had his own cell.

The apartment is dead quiet when the clock hits midnight.

Your birthday.

No texts from friends anymore, no music playing low in the background like you promised yourself there would be. Just rain tapping against the fire escape and the soft hum of the kitchen light you forgot to turn off.

Three years.

Three years since Toji Fushiguro got dragged away in handcuffs with blood on his knuckles and that unreadable look in his eyes. Three years of late-night phone calls from prison. Three years of pretending you weren’t waiting for them every single night.

And then the fight. A week ago. The worst one you’d ever had.

“You don’t get to come back and act like nothing happened, Toji.”

His silence on the other end had cut deeper than yelling ever could.

Then

“Maybe I shouldn’t come back at all.”

Click.

No calls after that.

Nothing. You stare at your untouched birthday cake on the counter, jaw tight. You hate that your chest still aches for him. Hate that every little sound outside makes your heart jump. Then comes a knock at the door. Not rushed. Not hesitant. Three slow taps. Your breath catches. No one knocks like that except him. You stand there frozen for a second before crossing the apartment barefoot, fingers trembling as they curl around the lock. The door opens. And there he is. Bigger somehow. Broader. Black shirt clinging tight to his frame, duffel bag hanging from one shoulder. A faint scar cuts across his mouth you don’t recognize. His hair’s longer. His face rougher.

But his eyes... Those same green eyes lock onto yours like he’s been starving. Toji looks exhausted. Not prison exhausted. You exhausted.

His gaze drags slowly over your face, your body, like he needs proof you’re real. Then he laughs once under his breath, rough and disbelieving.

“Still wearing that thing to bed?” You glance down at the oversized shirt slipping off one shoulder. The exact shirt he used to love. Heat rushes up your neck instantly. “What are you doing here?” His expression shifts. There’s something dangerous in it now. Something barely held together. “You stopped answering my calls.” “You said maybe you shouldn’t come back.” “And you believed me?” he snaps immediately.

The apartment goes silent again. Toji runs a hand over his face and exhales hard, like he’s trying not to lose his temper. “You think I survived three fucking years in that place to stay away from you?”

Your throat tightens.

He steps inside before you can stop him. The scent of rain and cigarettes follows him in. Familiar. Ruining you instantly.

“I had a cell to myself,” he says quietly. “You know what that means?”

You don’t answer.

His eyes pin you where you stand.

“It means every night was silent.” His voice lowers. “Except for you.”

Your heartbeat stutters.

“Toji—”

“Nah. You don’t get it.” He drops the duffel by the door. “You’d call half asleep, mumbling about your day, bitching about work, telling me goodnight in that voice—”

His jaw clenches.

“That voice was the only thing keeping me sane in there.”

The tension finally cracks in your chest. Because he sounds angry. But underneath it?He sounds hurt.

"Y/N you don't know how I fucking miss you."

"If I had to go back to prison for doing what I did, I would do it again just to make sure you're protected with all means."

you jump into toji's arm and give him a hug. you never knew how bad he was hurting, you were to busy being mad at him.

you never realize how much of your life belongs to someone until their absence starts making decisions for you.

-

-

era: thriller

pairings: jealous!michael x fem!reader

warnings/contents: possessive!michael, fluff and a bit of angst, reader is oblivious at first, michael sheds some tears :c (sorry lol), pre-established relationship, a little suggestive towards the end, abandonment issues (if you squint), not proofread, a bit rushed and ect

-

-

a/n: omg my second fanfic ever, i’m so proud and i want to thank you guys on all the love i’ve been receiving only in the span of a day. you guys mean soo much to me and im looking forward to writing more for you guys. THIS ALSO MAY BE A LITTLE SHORT, (might be a pt2 with smut lmk down in the comments if you want it 👀👀)

-

-

- It’s the night of the first “Thriller” music video shoot. The palpable euphoria and excitement in the air are so intense that it feels almost tangible. You and Michael are in the same car, driving to the filming location. You’re giggling and having a great time, chatting about anything and everything. It’s been a few months since you officially became a couple, and since then, you’ve practically become inseparable. No one can come between you, not even if they tried. As you arrive at the filming location, you walk in hand in hand, you guys look like the ultimate power couple of the century.

- Michael shakes hands with his directors and meets his co-stars. You didn’t want to get involved in his affairs, so you make your way somewhere else. You notice they have a huge snack table, and it looks delicious. You trot over there and get started. After some time, you feel a presence behind you. Slowly turning around, you see it’s one of Michael’s backup dancers. He’s towering over you and kind of intimidating. Nevertheless, you keep your composure. “Hey, you must be y/n, right? It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He reaches out for your hand and kisses it gently. He’s well aware that you’re Michael’s girlfriend, but he doesn’t care. “Why thank you? How are you enjoying the process of this whole thing?” you ask curiously. “Well, it seems rather unreal, I mean look at this place,” you guys share a laugh. You talk for minutes but it feels like hours about the set, Michael, and shooting the video, having a good time. After Michael is done getting debriefed by his directors, he tries to find you immediately. Then he spots you, over there with that guy. He sees you laughing and seeing the way you put your hand on his arm after he tells a joke. Almost like how you do with him. This makes his blood boil. Who is he to make you laugh like that? That was his thing… right? His jaw clenches, and his fist tightens. He decides to finally go over there and see what’s going on.

- “Hey y/n, what are you doing?” Michael wraps his arm around you, kissing your forehead. “Hi baby, I was just passing the time with your co-star right here. He’s incredibly funny,” you say, which makes him even more angry. Michael sees right through him, glaring at him menacingly. “Hello Mr. Jackson, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person,” the guy says almost condescendingly. “Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for your upcoming scene? I wouldn’t want you to miss it,” Michael says, smirking at him. “Yes, sir. I’ll see you later, y/n,” he winks at you, but you don’t notice. Michael is ready to knock his head off. How dare he challenge THE Michael Jackson like that? It’s almost like a death wish. “Hey baby, are you okay? You seem a little tense,” you tilt your head to the side, completely unaware of the standoff they just had. “Yeah, I’m fine. I have to go get ready for this shot. I’ll catch you later, baby. I love you,” he says while kissing your lips, almost possessively, but you don’t mind at all. He rushes over to the cameraman, ready to shoot the scene, still a bit agitated.

- While he gives his all in his scenes, he can’t help but notice every time the backup dancer is absent. He walks over to you near the booth, making him furious. He dances his heart out to distract himself. Then, he notices you two hugging. It wasn’t a typical hug; it was an embrace. “CUT!” Michael exclaims, causing the entire crew to stop in confusion. “Michael, if it’s about the choreography, we can change it.” “No, it’s not that. I just need a minute.” He stomps off the street into his own green room. You witness the entire scene and excuse yourself to check on him. You knock on the door. “Michael, baby? Are you okay?” There’s no answer. “Michael, I’m coming in, okay?” You open the door, and the sight you see breaks your heart. There he is, the unstoppable Michael Jackson, crying in his chair. “Oh my god! Michael, what’s wrong?” You lock the door behind you and rush over, crouching beside him. “Please talk to me, Michael. I need to know what’s wrong.” “You’re supposed to be my girl. My girl.” “What are you talking about, Michael? Of course, I’m yours.” “The way he was trying to get you for himself, I couldn’t bear to see that anymore. You’re supposed to be mine, and I’m yours. He should already know you’re off-limits.” He wipes away his tears, afraid to show any sign of weakness around you. Then, it finally clicks. He’s talking about the guy. “Oh, Michael, don’t worry about him. He’s nothing compared to you.” You climb into his lap and kiss his face uncontrollably. “I’m so sorry I made you feel this way, Michael. And the only reason why I hugged him was because he was talking to me about his personal problems and looked like he just needed a hug. I’m so, so sorry, Michael.” He wraps his arms around you tightly, pulling you in closer.

- “Promise me this, y/n, please promise.” “Promise you what, baby?” “Promise me you won’t ever leave me. Ever.” His grip tightened, almost hurting, but it didn’t bother you in the moment; you were just worried about Michael. “Of course, baby, I would leave you.” “Say you promise.” “I promise, Michael.” You lift his head up, eyes a bit puffy and red. Seeing him like this made your heart cry. Who knew he could ever get like this? You lean in to kiss him. He accepts it right away. It starts out slow at first, then almost immediately speeds up, like you guys were racing against time. Your fingers start to make their way to his hair, tugging it tightly. He groans, deepening the kiss and pulling you closer. “Mr. Jackson, it’s been over 10 minutes; we need you out here.” You guys hear from outside the door. You climb off of him. His hands automatically try and chase you. “Michael, you have to go.” You chuckle. “But-.” “No buts, Michael, get out there.” You lean over and whisper in his ear. “Plus, we can finish the rest of this tonight if you do good for me.” You say flirtatiously. His eyes light up like a kid who was offered a trip to Candy Land. He kisses you goodbye and heads out of the green room. You shake your head; what are you ever going to do with him?

Simon asked you, you, happily leaning against his arm, nodded softly.

"yes darling, I do" you smiled smitten, looking at your matching wedding ring with his.

"You said that when if you ever give me a bouquet of flowers and they die, your love for me will be gone, that's why you always give me fake roses or paper handmade tulips" your heart fluttered happily, looking at him and kissing his cheek softly, your mind drifting to the lots and lots of plastic flowers you kept around the house as decoration.

Vs

Simon who looked at you, heart shattering into a million pieces when you looked up at him with those lovestruck eyes.

And handed you a bouquet of real, stunning purple roses, hating the sudden sting on his eyes water the moment your expression crumbled.

Oh if only you knew, that the last time he saw Makarov he told Simon your exact scent and location, maybe you wouldn't be in this situation.