fae-of-prey

[fae-of-prey]

nooo i hate it when my boyfriends are fighting they’re each others boyfriends too😖 still love this though the way he won’t even look at anyone else ugh that’s my boyfriend right there<3

omg hii! can i be 🕯️ anon?

okay but.. ethan having digital camera just to record him and reading fucking.. but he accidentally misplaced the flash drive and chad finds it so yk..

a/n: omg! Yes of course you can (this is so exciting, it’s like my fanbase is growing), hope you like it!

proofread but I’m not that sure

﹒ ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆. ꙳ * ࣭ ࣭ Chad find your little tape…

Ethan was not the type of guy to do something like this but getting with you changed him. He can’t touch any other girl, he can’t look at any other girl so when he’s in… need of something, he’ll ask it from you, the problem is when you’re not there.

That’s how the proposition of filming you two came up and with a bit of reluctance… you accepted.

There were certain videos he liked the most, specially the one’s where you were visually struggling, wether you were tied up with your hands behind your back or you were just too tired of riding him — he’d be lying if he said he didn’t use those instead of his actual memory when he was alone, so he kept them hidden well, somewhere no one would find the camera.

Problem was that… this time Ethan was too busy cleaning off the blood of a victim to hide that camera before Chad came over — and at the time, he thought it was fine, Chad wouldn’t touch his personal stuff, right?

Wrong, because it’s been five minutes of Chad stepping inside Ethan’s room and he’s already peeping into Ethan’s stuff, opening a drawer next to his bed and pulling a small camera from it. Chad has a little fun with it, takes some stupid pictures before investigating what content it could have, he thought maybe some stupid plants or views that Ethan liked — and they were views alright, just not the type Chad expected.

There’s at least fifteen videos of you, and Chad doesn’t watch them, he’s not that much of a creep but he’ll for sure tease Ethan about it.

Ethan walks in the room, Chad bluntly flashes the camera at him, immediately, the curly haired boy is blushing.

“Dudee, didn’t know you had a camera, this could be useful for Tara’s project, you know, she’s been needing one.” Chad smirks, some bullshit lie to see his reaction.

“Well, uhm… she should probably find another one, that one’s really sensitive and… it’s family heirloom.” Another bullshit lie, this one not that well conceived.

Chad moves closer to him, inspecting the thing in his hands. “Really? Couldn’t tell, looks brand new.”

“Yeah.. I… take really good care of it.” Ethan mutters, takes another step closer and reaches for it. “Could you just… give it back?”

“Oh yeah, for sure, for sure…” Chad hands it to Ethan, or at least, he fakes it before taking it back. “But I don’t know what makes it so special, got something hidden in here, you’re sure Tara can’t use it?”

“Just give it back man, Tara can use one from someone else or something.” This time, when Ethan reaches for it, he grabs it tight, almost looks offended. “And uh.. I know we said we should do the project today but I think you should leave.”

“What?”

“I’m serious, just leave, we’ll do it sometime else.” Ethan swallows.

“Listen — just because I found your little camera and you have some videos of your girl there doesn’t mean we can’t work on it tod—“

“You watched them?!” It’s a yell, Ethan’s pissed, he’s protective. “You fucking watched them, how much of a creep can you be?”

“No I didn’t watch them but I mean I could tell what they were and—“

“Just get out.” Ethan points to the door. “Get out.”

Chad sighs, he shouldn’t have mentioned the content in the camera because now he’s pretty sure he did not only loose his project partner but also his best friend.

So reluctantly, he decides do what’s best — leave without saying any other word.

[fae-of-prey]

🙏Please donate a small amount that may save my father's life, he needs daily medication worth 55€ and will undergo surgery worth 250€💔, please do not ignore my message and do not hesitate to help me🫂❤️‍🩹

I am having difficulty communicating, please donate or share😭

Please support me I am facing this alone🙏

🛑Account No. 10 due to repeated deletion

✅My campaign is verified by: @gaza-evacuation-funds

🙏

i’m so sorry you’re going through this, unfortunately i don’t have any money to donate but i’ll boost this the best i can, i hope your family can find safety soon, you’re in my thoughts and my heart

[fae-of-prey]

We're getting THERE! (Reached 62% of our Goal!!!)

Hello. I hope all is well. This is Mahmoud Khalaf from Gaza, now studying in Ireland. I am campaigning to evacuate my family from Gaza and reunite with them in Ireland.

My campaign was vetted by el shab Hussein and nabulsi #151 on the Vetted Gaza Fundraisers List as you can see in my recent post. My recent post is titled "From the Comfort of Ireland, Watching the Suffering and Starvation of My Family in Gaza"

Could you please do me and my family a huge favor and reblog my post and help in boosting our campaign? https://www.tumblr.com/supportgaza/765503063942463488/from-the-comfort-of-ireland-watching-the?source=share

i’m so sorry you’re going through this, unfortunately i don’t have any money to donate but i’ll boost this the best i can, i hope your family can find safety soon, you’re in my thoughts and my heart

[fae-of-prey]

Hello my friends, I am Hamdi from Gaza, Tal al-Hawa. I sought refuge with you because of the devastating war that caused me to lose my home, cause us to move from one place to another, and be forced to leave Gaza to Egypt. I lost the future of my children. I hope you will stand by our side, whether by donating if possible or participating on a large scale. Please help me. 🙏🏼 🇵🇸 🍉

i’m so sorry you’re going through this, unfortunately i don’t have any money to donate but i’ll boost this the best i can, i hope your family can find safety soon, you’re in my thoughts and my heart

[fae-of-prey]

I believe that humanity and compassion still exist, and that there are those who will respond to my sad voice. Any donation, no matter how small, will make a huge impact on my life. Your contributions will help cover all travel costs for me, my parents and my sisters to live in a safe and stable place, free from hunger, fear and destruction, allowing us to start a new life full of hope. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for supporting me and my family during these difficult times. I believe that goodness still exists and that there are those who share our hope for a better life. Thank you for thinking of supporting me and my family. I appreciate any help you can offer. Show me that you stand by me 🙏🙏🙏 Whether by donating or by sharing my post 🥹🙏🙏🍉🙏🍉🙏🍉🙏🍉🙏🍉

https://gofund.me/ffd50356

i’m so sorry you’re going through this, unfortunately i don’t have any money to donate but i’ll boost this the best i can, i hope your family can find safety soon, you’re in my thoughts and my heart

[fae-of-prey]

Want him to low-key pound me so hard that he molds me to a better person

[fae-of-prey]

Just Hold Me

pairing: Peter Parker x fem!reader warnings/tags: angst from reader, like girl is not doing good atm, peter dealing with his own spider-man troubles, mentions of bruises/blood (briefly but still) summary: they're just a bunch of tired people trying to catch a break a/n: I suppose this is what some would call hurt/comfort... anyway, I wanted to write something, but kinda felt pretty shitty today, so here you go wc: 373

You're sitting at home on your bed, zoned out as you're staring at the wall. The day had started like any other: wake up, morning routine, go to your classes, go home, do homework, eat dinner, relax.

Or at least, you were supposed to relax, but that admittedly gets quite difficult when your mind is running around like crazy.

On some days, you'd ask yourself which was worse: having an endless train of thoughts running through your mind or the fact you'd somewhat gotten used to it.

Keyword: somewhat. There were days where every thought got too loud, where all you wanted to do was scream and bury your head in your pillow, in the hopes of draining out all the random voices and that annoying tune that just wouldn't get out of your head.

But you had no such luck today. Unfortunately, there were also days where all you could do was stare off into space, feeling yourself drown in your mind as you froze in time, unable to do anything except get overwhelmed.

That's how Peter found you when he crawled through your window. Normally, you'd look up and greet him with a smile, whether it was a real or fake one. So, when you didn't, he knew.

He always knew, knowing too much from own experience to know what thought-induced paralysis looked like.

"Too loud today?" He asked, to which you simply nodded, "Alright, come here."

For someone who wasn't the biggest fan of physical touch, you strangely found a sense of comfort as he wrapped his arms around you. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, closing your eyes for a moment.

"Bad fight today?" You asked after a few moments in silence, making Peter raise his eyebrows.

"How did you know?"

"Your muscles are still tensed up," You say softly, "And I can practically smell the blood on your face."

Despite the depravity of it all, Peter couldn't help but let out a dry chuckle. "Guess we both had a bad day today."

"Yours is worse, you got beaten up," You argue, "I just had a busy mind."

"It's not a competiotion, love," He whispers as he holds you close. "Need something?"

"Just hold me."

© This work belongs to @oneawkwardwriter, please do not copy this work to any other site or claim it as your own. Reblogs are allowed and appreciated!

Taglist: @unofficialxmarvelfreak

(to join the taglist, simply leave a comment or message me!)

[fae-of-prey]

Agatha Harkness

Headers

[fae-of-prey]

Precious

pairing: 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚣𝚢!𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊 ༝༝ 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

summary: your bunny slips through the crack of your front door and you run after her in hopes of catching the pet again. You get lost but your time still ticks, nightfall inching closer and closer as you inevitably sink further into the woods. Luckily, your eyes spot a cabin, and you become acquaintances with the unusual redhead that resides there.

warnings: dubcon, filthy smutty smut smut, HEAVYYYY dacryphilia, groping, dry humping, praise kink, thigh riding (r receiving), mid writing, wanda is lowkey a sadist, slightly unhinged crazy yet loveable and sexy cabin wanda, age gap > r is 20 w is 32

A/N: first fic!!! hi… im very new to writing fics so please be nice ૮꒰ྀི >⸝⸝⸝<꒱ྀིა (i wrote this listening to a true crime documentary idk)

kind of a messy plot but I still hope my little freaks enjoy…… and I’m also sorry this took longer than expected I just kept contemplating if it was good or absolute shit </3

+

this is a dark fic. 18+. wlw. men & minors dni!

⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘

It’s getting pretty late…

You think to yourself, hugging your shoulders as you look up at the overcast sky.

How did I end up here in the first place?

✦

You move a leaf to the side and pick the fresh strawberry that was stashed there, rinsing it in your small bucket of water and taking a mouthful of the delicious treat.

You hear a shuffle beside you. Turning your head, you see a white bunny hiding behind one of your sunflower pots. You smile and place another strawberry onto the ground before slowly walking away. Your eyes relish how cute the little animal is as they chomp away at your colourful fruit.

You stand in the corner of your garden and decide from then on, you’d feed the hungry bunnies that would stroll into your neighbourhood.

A few days pass and you quickly became friends with two specific bunnies who you named Clover and Daisy. You eventually took them in as your own, rottenly spoiling both of the creatures. You loved having them around because living alone in a small town that was an hour away from the city can definitely become lonely.

“This tastes like candy to you doesn’t it Daisy?” You say as you hold out your hand and watch her nibble it up. The fur around her mouth is stained purple, you laugh at the sight.

“Okay that’s enough blueberries for tonight! You’ll get sick if you keep eating those.” You click the plastic container shut, standing up and walking into your kitchen. You place the container in the side compartment of your fridge for tomorrow and stroll back into your living room.

Your brows furrow. Daisy is gone. Daisy and Clover are such good bunnies, they never leave your sight for more than a minute. You assume she ran to her sister Clover, but your eyes widen in horror when you see your front door slightly more cracked open than it was before you left.

You anxiously open your phone and dial your best friend Frankie. You ramble to her about how stupid you felt for leaving the door open, like you are an irresponsible parent who’s no smarter than a bag of rocks. She calmly tells you to go look for Daisy and that she’ll come over as soon as she can to watch Clover.

“Thank you so so much, Frankie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You sigh in relief, a hand pressed over your chest. You feel your heart jump underneath your palm and your lips trembling with every breath.

“It’s no problem, Y/N/N. Now go look for that bunny, I’ll be over in 5.”

“Bye, thank you again..” You hang up the phone and dart out the door. You frantically look through your shrubs and call her name, but a bright white spot in your peripheral steals your attention.

There she is, bouncing her way into the open forest across the road from you. As soon as she hops out of your view you race towards her, carelessly running past two moving cars. You ignore the frustrated yelling and the beeping horns, continuing to boost into daisies direction.

“DAISY! WAIT!!”

You yell, but your shouting only seems to spur her on. You run after her and neither of you lose pace. You turn corners, run through mud and almost slip doing so at least two times. The animal suddenly picks up it’s speed, turning abruptly and disappearing into a thick bush. You get on your knees and practically rip this bush to shreds, but she was already long gone. Daisy is no more.

You feel tears sting your eyes, ears and cheeks becoming hot from your stress. You sniffle and wipe your tears with the sleeve of your jacket. You knew it was impossible to look for her now. That bunny became your life in just a couple of days, she felt like a childhood pet. The thought of never seeing her again made your heartstrings tie themselves into knots.

You lose the path you were on but you couldn’t care less. You lost your beloved bunny baby; life is no longer worth living. You wonder if Clover’s okay, and how exactly you’d break the news to her.

So lost and full of woe, mind not even switched on, you didn’t notice the thick tree root in front of you until you stub your foot against it and fall forward. You wince and slowly stand up again. Dusting the crunchy leaves off of your clothes, you use the back of your hand to wipe the dripping bead of blood from your cheekbone.

Great, a cut. I’ll have to clean that up when I get home..

You wonder aimlessly with your head hung low. A brisk breeze that brushes past you is what makes you finally look up.

You hug your shoulders as you stare at the gloomy airspace. The sun isn’t beaming, only a variation of different grey clouds flood the sky.

A person? This far out on in the woods?

Wanda thinks. She watches you with a deranged, curious look as you weave yourself through the webs and bushes, seemingly extra careful about tree roots.

You look up from the ground, scanning the area around you and pause when you see the warm glow of her cabin.

My god, she’s gorgeous.

She takes a swift step back so she’s not in the frame of the window anymore, her brows furrowing. She stares at the wall, she hasn’t seen an actual person in so long.

What is a girl like you doing traipsing in the woods?

She peeks again and now you’re making your way over, big wary eyes cautiously examining your surroundings. A shiver rocks through you as you cough into your elbow, then using that arm to place three firm knocks on the door.

You sigh while you wait for someone to answer the door. You switch from tippy toes to the heel of your feet in a nervous manner. The cabin looks great, almost pristine, there’s no way it’s abandoned.

You feel stupid for going into a cabin in the woods. It’s like some dumb movie; you’re just hoping you don’t end up dead. You expect to see an old, wrinkled man the size of a third grader, but your eyes widen when a tall red headed woman swings the door open. You stutter, stunned that a woman like her would live in a place so isolated.

Holy shit, she’s fine.

“Hi, um.. I know it’s a lot to ask but can I stay here for a little bit? I… got lost.” You fiddle with your fingers. She chuckles as she crosses her arms, biting her lip and letting her eyes run up and down your fidgety figure.

“No it’s not asking anything at all. It’s not like I get visitors very often.” She moves to the side and welcomes you in. You look up at her and mumble a small thank you, slowly stepping inside her warm homestead.

The smell of firewood burning and sweet lavender conquer your senses. The comforting atmosphere relaxes you despite how unfamiliar it is. You kick off your boots and grab them so you can neatly place them next to the door. She shuts the door and clicks it locked, quietly making her way over to what looks like her kitchen.

You drink in the sight around you. A tall, cobblestone fireplace lined up against the wall with wood already burning inside of it. A soft lounge suite with a fluffy mat sitting right underneath it. There’s a short hallway and two doors, one you assume leading into her bedroom and the other probably being her bathroom.

One thing you notice in particular is a painting, one with two women sitting on a red velvet couch. One is dressed in white, the other is dressed in black and they both have lace blindfolds wrapped around their heads.

Their Victorian dresses were detailed and long, their lips so close but afraid to touch and give in.

You look away and clench your fists. Your face is now hot, when you entered a remote cabin in the woods, a gay victorian painting was the last thing you expected.

“Take a seat, make yourself comfortable.” The woman’s hoarse voice echoes through the room. Your ears perk up when they catch a touch of an accent.

Is she some type of Russian? That’s hot.

Your anxious form shifts over to her couch to sit down. You sigh in relief, your aching bones melting into the man made cloud that was this woman’s sofa.

“So what’s your name, milaya?” The woman hands you a cup. Your cold fingers feel fuzzy against the hot mug, shuffling back further into her couch so you can sit up comfortably.

“Y/N. You?”

“Wanda.”

A small smile sits on her face that is on some level, disturbing. It’s such a beautiful smile but you can feel something is not right with her. Your intuition has never made itself more distinct, it was less noticeable when you were walking alone outside.

The room feels like it’s getting smaller, the claustrophobia whips the air right out of your lungs. Your eyes flicker between hers. The room starts to spin. Your ears start to ring. Before you could pass out cold, she cups your chin, the gentle gesture pulling you out of your panicked state.

“That’s a nasty cut isn’t it? Would you like me to take care of that?” She says, her tone coaxing. Your curious eyes linger on her,

Why is this stranger being so generous?

If someone entered your home and needed to stay the night, you’d tell them to get lost. She caresses your face softly while she stares at the wound.

“No it’s oka-“ She suddenly pushes a finger to the fresh cut, forcing you to wince and pull away from her. She looks at you in a way you can’t describe, your reaction seemingly piqueing her interest. Her pupils dilate but not enough for you to notice. You look at her with fearful eyes and think to yourself,

Who would do that?

“Actually, that would be nice. Thank you..”

~

Your eyes switch between the steaming drink in your hand and the obviously unhinged redhead sitting next to you. Her aura is intimidating, but you convince yourself it’s paranoia.

I’m in a remote cabin deep in the woods.

Who wouldn’t be unsettled? She’s nice and she helped you…stop being dumb Y/N!

“Thank you again for cleaning my cut, Wanda.” You try to strike up a conversation, but all you’re met with is painful silence. She watches your lips touch the ring of the porcelain teacup, then moving her eyes up to meet your own.

“You’re very observant aren’t you?” You refer to her endless stare, disguising your discomfort with a small chuckle. Her smile widens.

"Fascinuješ ma, miláčik.” “You fascinate me, darling.”

Your brows squeeze together. You wish you could understand what she said, but it felt rude asking her to repeat that in English. You result in shyly looking away and focus on your dangling feet.

Her hand occasionally runs down your back or strokes your arm. Her icy featherlight touches cause goosebumps to ride over your skin. She notices your eyes following her fingers, a mischief smirk hiking up her cheeks.

“You’re so lucky I’m here to help you, dear. What was a girl like you doing in the woods all alone?” Her hand lands on your knee, slowly climbing up closer to your heat and lightly massaging the flesh there. You squirm when she inches closer to your mound, but you’re in her home. She could do anything to you if you said something that upset her.

What if she’s just being nice? I don’t want to offend her…

“I- uh- I was hunting?” You try to paint yourself as tough but fail spectacularly; you can tell by the way she squints her eyes when she hears your answer.

“If that were true, you’d have hunting gear on you, sweetie.” She moves your hair to the other side of your neck to expose the milky skin there. She gawks at your neck like a predator creeping on her prey, ready to pounce on you at any given moment.

The thought of kissing and licking at your silky skin and the vivid image of you biting your plush pink lips made her tremble with desire.

You shrink, staring at the drink in your hands and feeling a strike of vulnerability as you quietly say the words, “I was chasing a bunny..”

“Aww aren’t you precious?” She praises. She toys with the soft threads of your hair, your cheeks glowing a rosy pink from her comment. Her hand squeezes your thigh more roughly, the unexpected act making you jump.

“Such a pretty thing.” She whispers to herself. You don’t catch her words, so you hum and tilt your head, showing your confusion in hopes she would repeat herself.

“Oh… nothing.” She quickly replaces her shock with a crooked grin. Your lips stretch into a small and nervous smile, slowly putting the cup to your mouth again.

A few more moments of silence are present. The crackling of burning wood and the crickets chirping in the distance gave you a chance to finally breathe, although you still struggle to ignore her invasive presence.

“Put the drink down.” You look at her in surprise. You stutter, taken aback by her orders but don’t dare ask any questions. You lick your lips and shuffle, leaning forward to sit the drink on her coffee table. You then move back against the couch and stare into the orange flames in front of you.

“Do you like when people are rough with you, angel?”

You freeze hearing her question. She tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear ever so gently, grinning when she sees the sheer terror written on your face. There was something eerie about the way she had asked you, a corrupted little twinkle beaming from her eyes.

“Well, no.. N-Not really why?” Your voice is shaking. You know for sure now that this woman is not in her right mind. She could be capable of doing anything and you wouldn’t expect it. She flashes you a charming smile as she continues to twirl and play with your hair, leaning closer to you before whispering,

“Can I tell you a secret?” Your breath hitches softly and your body tenses at the close proximity. You refuse to look at her. You cement your eyes to the flickering fire in front of you. Her hand smoothly travels from your thigh to the zip of your corduroy jacket, slowly pulling down at the metal teeth to reveal your white v-neck shirt and ruby necklace. The sound of your zipper in the unsettling silence makes your skin crawl. You could almost hear the ominous, suspenseful background music. You don’t know what would happen if you deny her, so you hesitantly nod your head.

“I like hurting people… Especially pretty toys like you. I haven’t done it in a long time though.” Her eyes hungrily take in your chilled expression. You gulp when she pulls the jacket off of your shoulders and throws to the side.

“I love to see girls cry, tears running down their sweet little faces…” Her hands rub your upper arms soothingly as she rubbed her nose into the nape of your neck, inhaling your scent. You found yourself unable to move or respond, giving in to her game and listening to her sick train of thought.

“Can I make you cry, please, sweet girl?” She mumbles into your neck, gently nipping at the sensitive skin there. Your breathing becomes heavier, needing her so very badly you start to tune out the blaring alarms in your head.

“Wanda listen-” She moves on top of you. She situates herself between your legs giving you no chance to close them, running her hands up and down your thighs. It all happened so fast.

“Pretty please? You’d look so good..” She becomes breathless at the thought, lunging forward and forcefully pushing her lips onto yours. Her lips feel pillowy and soft against yours, she smells of sweet vanilla and a smoky but subtle cinnamon; the mix makes your brain go dizzy with want. She tangles her hands with yours so she can pin your frantic ones onto the couch. Butterflies dance in your stomach, adrenaline rushing through your veins. Her kiss is rough but somehow so soft at the same time, the conflicted feeling makes your heart flutter.

She puts all her body weight onto you, grinding her crotch into yours as she murmurs praises into your mouth. “You’re so fucking cute,” “It’s gonna feel so so good, just let me touch you..”

She slides her tongue across your lip, silently telling you to open your mouth. She angrily tightens her grip on your hands when you groan and clench your jaw shut, forbidding her access.

“Open your mouth, or I’ll find another way to make it stay open.” You whine quietly, slowly opening your mouth and letting her slide in. You whimper and squirm when her hands land on your hips, guiding you to grind against her knee.

“There you go, so so pretty grinding on me like that..” You grab handfuls of her sweater, the fabric of your cotton panties rubbing against you creating the perfect friction. You softly moan her name, back arching while hiding your face in her neck, ashamed how riled up you are from being taken advantage of. One of her hands move from your hip to your thigh, exploring the rest of your body before snaking up your stomach to grope at your breasts.

“Fuck,” She whimpers before biting down on your lip. She twists and teases your nipples between her fingers, feasting on the sight of your pathetic writhing.

“Wanda!” Your movements against her thigh become more frantic, so blissed out you couldn’t care about how needy and dumb you must look.

Your hands advance to her biceps, clutching onto her as you try reach the high you so deeply crave. Your heart thuds in your chest, sweat glistening on your forehead and gasping for air. Your tears soak her shirt, hating yourself for giving in to her but also not willing to stop.

“Cum, make a mess for me bunny..” Her hand grabs your chin and holds it still. You foolishly kept trying to turn your head, but your actions cease when her hand moves from your chin to wrap around your throat.

“Look at me when you cum.” She forces her face impossibly closer to yours, jutting out her jaw and admiring the sparkling tears falling from your eyes. Her breathing becomes ragged listening to your whines and sobs, the throb between her legs intensifying.

“I don’t want to..”

“I don’t care if you want to or not. I won’t let you move until you do.”

Your mouth falls open and your eyes roll to the back of your head, her cruel words somehow pushing you over the edge. Everything becomes white, your thighs shake and your body tenses. Waves of pleasure crash down on you, the euphoric feeling pulsing through you from head to toe.

She eagerly watches you fall apart from your first climax, knowing that she’s not even halfway done with you. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, eyes struggling to stay open and arms spread over the couch.

She carefully pushes her knee further into your pussy, your pleas and protests only making her more excited for what she plans next.

“I’m going to have so much fun with you, angel.”

⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘

[fae-of-prey]

sleepyhead

dbf!bucky barnes x fem!reader

warning(s): smut (pwp, dub/noncon, somnophilia, blowjobs, dirty talk, cum swallowing), age gap (reader is 19-early 20s, bucky is mid/late 30s-early 40s), dark fic!

here’s some incredibly self-indulgent, horny, 3am nonsense. it was my birthday yesterday ok i deserve a treat <3

Keep reading

[fae-of-prey]

⠀ make a wish before this bunny crosses your dash .ᐟ.ᐟ

[fae-of-prey]

[fae-of-prey]

.⋆˚ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐈𝐭𝐬𝐲 𝐁𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐲 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲︱𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐲 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐛𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬︱𝐃𝐁𝐅!𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞!𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖.𝐂︱ 𝟓𝟎𝟓

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ︱𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐜𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐚

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞︱𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛 :𝐩 𝐄𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲!

You and Bucky decided on one thing before he moved in. That he kills any and all bugs. Nothing scared the man, especially something so small like an ant.

You were quite the opposite. You preferred that any critter stayed outside and as far away as possible. You took every precaution to make sure your house was a bug free zone. Much to your dismay it wasn’t entirely impossible to keep them out.

You found one right before you were going to sleep. You were sitting down at your vanity finishing up your skincare routine when you felt something on your hand leg. You brushed your leg and continued. When you felt that strange feeling again you looked down and saw a black spider crawling across your lap.

“Oh my god!” You screamed as you got up and ran out of the room. Instinctively you dashed right towards Bucky’s room, “Bucky!”

“What’s the matter?” He asked calmly, oblivious to the fact you were on the verge of panicking.

“There’s a spider–Huge one in my room-”

“And let me guess you need me to kill it?”

You flashed him a smile, “Please with a cherry on top?”

He playfully rolled his eyes as he got up from the bed, “I’ll be right back.”

Bucky entered your room and scanned for any signs of a spider. He didn’t mind the fact that you had him kill bugs. In fact he found it endearing you needed him and would clutch his chest when you saw one.

He almost gave up when he saw a tiny spider crawling up the wall. “Here I thought you were this gigantic thing,” He chuckled as he grabbed your shoe and squashed it quietly against the wall.

Bucky walked back into your room and he saw you on his bed with your legs tucked under you. You inched closer to him on all fours, stopping at the edge and lifting yourself up on your knees.

“Did you get it, Bucky?” You worriedly asked. “Because if you didn’t I’m not going back in there. Like ever.”

A devious idea popped into Bucky’s mind. “I’m sorry sweetheart but it escaped.” He internally cooed at the sight when you started to nervously bite your nails.

“You have got to be kidding me,” You cursed. “Where am I going to sleep now?”

“You could always sleep with me,” He suggested as he got closer to the bed. “It’d be nice to have you in my arms. Plus my room is spider free.”

You accepted with no hesitation. Bucky eagerly got under the covers and opened his arms, an informal invitation to spend the entire night in his arms. You snuggled closer to him, sighing in satisfaction when you were enveloped in his warmth. His hand running up and down your back soothed you, luring you to sleep.

“My poor baby, scared of the itsy bitsy spider,” He teased, tenderly kissing your forehead.

“Shut up,” You groaned. “It was huge I swear!”

“Yeah sure it was,” He chuckled, knowing fully well it wasn’t that big. “At least you’re safe here.” In my arms where I could protect from everything in sight. Even an itsy bitsy spider.

[fae-of-prey]

Dick Grayson by Dan Mora you will always be famous.

[fae-of-prey]

shy shy shy

a little insecure tasm peter parker x reader, early stages of relationship

masterlist | requests are open!

buy me a ko-fi!

nerdy peter lovers rise

They were just glasses.

On, off. On, off. A clear reflection of Peter in the bathroom mirror, a few circles of color where his head and body would be.

Peter examines himself with the lenses on, pulls out a piece of his sweater that had gotten caught inside his plaid pajama pants. His hands run up through the damp hair that falls flat against his forehead in an attempt to give it a little volume but it's no use without his usual styling products. Peter slaps his palms on his cheeks, shakes his head and sends micro-drops of water sailing. He bounces in place, attempting to shake out the jitters his body has had trouble containing all day.

Peter pushes his contact lens case aside, gives himself one last glance over. He contemplates for a few seconds, biting the inside of his cheek. Peter sighs as he pulls the lenses off again, cradling them in his hands and blowing air through his lips.

Metal frames, thick lenses.

Couldn't have that spider fixed his vision while he was at it?

Okay, Peter's vision wasn't that bad. Maybe he could survive without the frames Peter felt altered his appearance so drastically (or at least, reflected more accurately the type of person Peter was in his spare time). Peter with Contacts was cool and confident - scaled back from the confidence he had while he was in his suit, but not as pathetic as he was back in high school. Peter with Glasses? Yeah, that guy looked deserving of wedgies.

He reaches for his phone to check the time (and make sure he hasn't left you alone for too long), but can't make out what the white numbers say through his cracked screen.

Okay, maybe it is pretty bad.

Peter sighs, picks up the mess he'd made pre and post shower, hyping himself up one more time before opening the door and flipping the light switch off.

Peter pads down the hallway and peers his head around the corner into the small living room. He squints and can just barely make out the top of your head sitting on his couch.

Even though he can't see you very well, Peter's heart makes a funny feeling in his chest, even through the eye strain.

It's like you can feel Peter's eyes on you (which, you probably can - Peter is working overtime to try and make out the details of you) because you sit a little straighter and turn your head. Peter pushes his glasses on just in time to see you smile. And then grin.

"You wear glasses?"

Your voice is curious, not at all condescending, though Peter can hear the smile in your voice as you come up to meet him.

"For the aesthetics," Peter grins, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms in an attempt to make you believe the false sense of confidence he's putting up. It's stupid, really, but a tiny piece of Peter thinks someone as consistently perfect as you should be with someone who is equally on par. And, at the moment, Peter feels like he's letting you down.

You stand close to Peter, too close (his heart can't stop fluttering and his breath has caught in his throat). Peter fights the urge to pull you close to him. Too much, too soon, though he'd really like to kiss you right about now.

You try to contain your smile, a part of you still not quite believing that you've been so consistently guilty of making Peter Parker flustered.

Your fingers gently pull Peter's glasses off with a glint in your eye and Peter frowns at the sudden loss of sight - only because he doesn't want to miss looking at you from so close.

"For the aesthetics, huh?" You grin, turning the glasses to measure the thickness of Peter's lenses. Your suspicions about the strength of his prescription are confirmed by the way Peter's eyes are squeezed together as he looks at you.

"A hundred percent," Peter persists, opening his eyes normally and looking straight at the blurred lines of your face.

You take a step back and flash your phone at Peter, tiny words melted into a block of black. Peter instinctively squints and leans forward, trying to distinguish what the small screen said.

"You're like a grandma," you laugh, fully now.

"You should feel horrible for making fun of the elderly." Peter's arms drop, reaching for his glasses with an easy smile. But you move your hands away and Peter's hands catch on the crooks of your arms as you carefully place Peter's glasses back on his face, taking care to place them behind his ears as comfortably as you can. Your fingers graze against Peter's hair, still damp from his shower, gently moving a few stray pieces back into place.

"Well, you can't go to sleep like that," you murmur. "You'll get sick."

"So I guess we have time to kill?" Peter asks, hoping the two of you will sit down for a movie - or anything that'd keep him close to you, really.

"I guess we do," you grin, hands falling to Peter's shoulders, savoring the feeling of his hands on you, unable to help the craving you have for more.

"Pete?"

"Hmm?" Peter is partially entranced, melted like chocolate with the sweet sound of that little nickname coming out of your mouth. His eyes flicker and he's trying not to stare at your lips, bottom lip caught in his mouth in anticipation.

"Could I put my stuff in your room?" You ask sweetly, trying not to laugh at the way Peter falters, blinking quickly.

"Oh, yeah, sure," Peter nods frantically, hoping he's not as red as he feels.

You bite back your grin as Peter stays there, not moving until you do, sweet brown eyes slightly magnified by his glasses. Oh, but it'd be so cruel to deny him.

You press a quick kiss to the corner of Peter's mouth. It's a little shy and you turn away immediately to grab the overnight bag you'd packed. Two pairs of cheeks are red and grateful for the excuse of it, trying to shake off the little bit of nervousness the two of you still have around each other. It's a little strange, neither of you quite used to having someone around to love so freely. It's new, too, both of you still a little afraid to do something that would scare the other off, each of you knowing you'd never be the one to run off.

But this tiny fear that lives in both of your brains is what had Peter picking over his appearance earlier and is what makes him nervous now as he leads you down the hall to his room. He'd cleaned it thoroughly, considering hiding all his trinkets and trophies, ended up shoving things that had littered his shelves into his closet.

Peter takes a breath before opening his creaky door, smiling as he welcomes you in, hoping you somehow wouldn't notice - or maybe, wouldn't care to ask about - any of the posters or books or medals or figurines that made Peter, Peter. He was partially embarrassed and entirely nervous about sharing more of himself with you. After all, Peter was an expert at shutting people out and not too great at letting them in.

He doesn't know if he's relieved or even more anxious as you stare in awe, bag abandoned near his bed. It's clear you're taking in every detail of Peter's room, eyes not missing a single decoration. Peter feels as if he's being dissected, fidgeting as he waits for you to finish your analyzing. He's about to suggest that movie when you walk over to the desk he has shoved against the wall. Peter doesn't think there's anything special about books and pencils, but you're touching the tops of the things on his desk with care and a fascination he doesn't quite understand.

You quietly move onto old trophies and medals Peter has displayed, only the ones he was proudest of.

"Princeton Math Competition? Wow, Pete." You only turn your attention to him momentarily, returning your eyes to the shelf with a grin.

Peter's heart flutters when you sound... impressed? It was an accomplishment he was proud of, but not something he went around telling strangers.

"Oh, that... that- that's old," Peter laughs, coming up behind you, sure now there'd be no chance of getting you to watch that movie.

"Tell me about it."

"W...what?" Peter laughs, glancing at you curiously.

"I wanna hear about it," you say genuinely, taking a seat on the edge of Peter's bed. "Tell me about it."

Peter doesn't have to tell you he's shocked for you to realize it, a small smile tugging at your lips as you look up at him. Peter's not sure he has the courage to ask why before you beat him, sensing his hesitancy.

"I wanna know everything about you Peter. I wanna hear about your math competitions. I want you to tell me what books you're reading. I wanna know what matters most to you," you shrug, face a little warm from the confession. You don't have too much time to be embarrassed before Peter is next to you, hands digging into the bed at your sides. His face is inches away, his breath warm on your lips.

"Please let me kiss you," Peter whispers.

"Please do," you whisper back, letting Peter take your face in his hands and pull you into a kiss. The surface you've chosen is a little unstable as the both of you shift around, neither of you quite able to let the other go until you're forced to, breathless and grinning.

Peter's glasses have fogged up and he groans, pulling them off exasperatedly. "God, I hate these things."

"Really? But you look so good in them," you comment innocently, picking up the frames and attempting to look through them, muttering something about how, wow, Peter is blind.

Peter's not paying attention, though, heart hammering in his chest. He takes you by surprises when he kisses you this time, glasses still in your hands as they rest against his chest.

"You're trouble," Peter says when he finally pulls away. "You're doing awful things to my heart."

"Should I make fun of you, then?" You tease.

"Oh, I think that'd make it worse."

"I didn't know you were into that."

Peter shoves you as you laugh, though he can't help but join you.

"I didn't know you were into nerds," Peter quips, letting you slide his glasses back onto his face - the ones that suddenly don't seem that bad anymore.

"Only the really pretty ones," you murmur, and really, how could Peter not kiss you for that one?

Peter tries to take his glasses off as your kissing grows heated, knowing they'll be useless when they eventually fog up anyway. But your hand stops Peter, lips puffy from plenty of kisses and still eager for more.

"Nuh-uh," you say, pulling Peter's hand back down. "Keep them on."

[fae-of-prey]

◜ 🎒 ◞ cotton spider ↪︎ peter parker

peter parker x gn!reader. miscommunication. oneshot. lowercase intended. established relationship. || 0.5k words

summary; you’ve always loved your stuffed spiderman doll like your own son, but you’ve never shown peter because.. well, he is spiderman. nothing can get past someone with radioactive blood though.

no different from your usual friday nights, you were aimlessly flitting through the seemingly endless pages of homework you’d been set for the week. you sighed, rubbing your tired eyes, and promised yourself you’d do it tomorrow.

you groan into the pillow, and reach for the blur of scarlet you could see from the corner of your eyes. “what should i do, spiderman?” you say to it, as if it were a friend. you supposed, in some ways, it was, but it mostly functioned as something to throw at walls when your frustration got the better of you. poor spidey.. you think, and kiss his imaginary injuries better.

you get the sense that stuffed spiderman is telling you to go to the kitchen for some food, so you agree with him, and bring him down with you. “what do you spiders even eat..?” you say, thinking back to peter’s huge lunches, fuelled by his hyper-fast metabolism.

you reach for a cupcake from a four-pack you bought recently and place spiderman on the counter. “don’t look at me like that..” you say, returning his stare. “spiders don’t eat cupcakes.”

you take a bite of the pink-frosted cupcake, relishing in the sweet taste. god, you could not get enough of this. vanilla is too good.

glancing over to spiderman, you ask, “would another one hurt?” spiderman obviously agrees with you. “good choice.” you take another cupcake and bring spiderman back to your room, but before you can even think of eating your second cupcake, a tall figure stands in the door.

“y/n!!”

peter?

you blink, and suddenly realise you’re holding a stuffed animal version of your boyfriend, so you naturally scramble to shove it under your pillow.

“haha…” you laugh, trying to act natural, “hey peter!”

peter sees through you. maybe it’s his tingle? “what was that?” he asks, suspicious. stupid tingle.

you try diverting the conversation, “cupcake?” you smile saccharinely, but your skin crawled with irritation at the fact that it was your cupcake. desperate times call for desperate measures, you suppose.

“ooh!” peter exclaims, “yes please—“ he grins, taking your offer, before realising your cunning trick worked on him.

you try to seem calm, though your nervous fiddling seems to catch peter’s attention.

“y/n.” he says, matter of factly, “you’re not cheating on me, are you?”

your eyes widen with shock, “what!? no, oh my god.” you rush out, trying desperately to assure him of your innocence.

“then— what do you have to hide?” he grimaces, “y/n/n… are you looking at… you know..”

you gasp, grabbing your pillow and thwacking him across the head, scandalised. he lets out a surprised yelp, but he notices the plush that you had hidden.

“oh my god…” he mutters, before howling with laughter. you realise your mistake, and go bright red, hiding your hands in your face.

“stop laughing!!” you protest, throwing the pillow at him once again.

“ow—!” he cries, but his grin remains the same. his lips quirk even further upwards before he asks, “how long have you had him..?”

you pout, sending him an evil look. “you’re making fun of me.”

“i’m not—!” he counters, but the fact he’s doubled over with laughter tells a different story.

you grab spiderman, and pat his head. “spidey doesn’t like being made fun of.”

peter’s expression morphs into one of incredulity, and he raises an eyebrow at you. “spidey?”

[fae-of-prey]

❛ keep it. it looks better on you. ❜ tasm peter 👀👀👀

With summer right around the corner, you’ve stopped listening to news stations and weathermen and starting listening to your heart when it comes to the forecast for the day. In your mind, it will always be sunny and warm, and maybe the longer you continue to dress for that weather, the more the universe will get the hint and finally turn spring into summer after the everlasting winter you’d had.

“It’s supposed to get cold again today,” Peter warns when he sees your bare legs and arms as you meet him on the steps of your building, the crooked smile on his face enough to surpass the sun. Ever since you stopped listening to professionals, Peter’s taken it upon himself to be your own professional meteorologist, keeping you up to date on all forecasts. Most of the time, you humor him and grab a coat.

“I’ve decided it’s summer,” you say as you descend the last few concrete steps, making it clear that you don’t intend to go back up and change, even though you’re already a bit chilly with the breeze. Still, it’s too late in the year for you to keep bundling up every time you leave your house, so you’ll just grin and bear it and let Peter say ‘I told you so’ when the time comes.

That time comes much sooner than you’d like, the wind picking up and the sun hiding behind the clouds as you and Peter walk through the park near your building following lunch, too broke to pay to get in anywhere and too restless to go inside. You’ve got your arms wrapped around your middle, one on top of the other to keep you as warm as possible, and your teeth are so close to chattering you can barely focus on the story Peter’s telling you of his disastrous attempt to surprise May.

It all happens so fluidly, you don’t fully realize what’s happened until it’s over. Still in the middle of his story and tilting his head to look over at you every so often, Peter unzips his hoodie and shrugs it off before draping it over your shoulders, and your body responds before your brain can process and slides your arms into the sleeves. It’s long on you, perfect for Peter’s lanky frame, and the hem brushes against your bare thighs as you walk, but you’re so blessedly warm you can barely think of the implications.

Peter doesn’t seem bothered by the cold at all, hands stuffed in his pockets and his deceptively strong biceps on display in his t-shirt as he keeps telling his story like nothing out of the ordinary just happened. Your brain is still in a spiral, and you can’t focus on anything other than the fact that you’re wearing Peter’s hoodie, and it’s soft and warm and smells like him, and you have to stop yourself from tucking your nose in and inhaling.

The sun soon makes its return, glinting through the trees and illuminating Peter’s profile that you’re fully convinced he’s an angel, even though you’ve had your suspicions before. As the sun warms the air, you go to slip your arms back out of the hoodie and hand it back to Peter, but he’s already stopping you with gentle hands, pulling the sweatshirt back into place on your shoulders.

“Keep it, it looks better on you,” he tells you, accompanied by one of those signature Peter smiles that always makes your heart stop, and paired with what he just said you’re certain you’ll drop dead on the spot. He just tilts his head, still grinning, still framed by the sun like he’s emitting his own light, and then he just goes on walking, as if he doesn’t know the effect he has on you.

Luckily, your legs manage to work as your brain struggles to keep up, running into overdrive as it starts and sputters like an old car over what just happened. Peter keeps glancing over at you, like he expects something of you, but he continues with that innocent expression that leaves you baffled because he has to know the effect he has on you, with his gentle touches and soft smiles and beautiful voice. He slips his hands from his pockets, swinging them by his side as he walks and brushing against your knuckles, and now you're certain: Peter Parker will be the death of you.