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with-my-calamitous-love · 29 days ago

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and i know i make the same mistakes every time / least i did one thing right

k. bakugou x reader

the trials and tribulations of loving japan’s fiery, #1 pro hero. pros and cons format, headcanons light nsfw but nothing too explicit, for his birthday ·˚ ༘

·˚ ✎ i have another bk x reader in the drafts but that one is very sad and angsty and i wanted to have a less heartbreaking one for his birthday so here it is (😭🤍)

song: call it what you want

pro: he spoils you

in more ways than just money or materialism. emotionally, he's there. he's so much more attentive than people give him credit for, knowing your little anxious fidgets or little details even you forget. the entire world could be calling you a liar, and he'd see the truth in you.

and physically? he's passionately rough, skin welding into yours, lips grazing your soul, fingers finding all those right places. he has one of two ways of acting in bed: either he's looking into your eyes, lips and tongue working in a perfect melody over your skin, drawing out every gasp from your lips. or, he's practically crushing you between himself and the mattress, making you forget your own name, never daring to stop until the sun comes up.

his love language is acts of service. he'll scoff in annoyance or groan when he holds your bags for you, opens each door and lets you sit in the passenger seat while he drives. he roll his eyes at your "dumb" gifts while he religiously wears the bright pink heart bracelet you got him some time ago. he'd never let you know it, but he's wrapped around your finger. he lives to see your smile. he knows that he's made mistakes, some of them over and over again, but he thinks of you as the one thing he's done right.

"you didn't have to do this." words that fall deaf on his ears as he hands you a bouquet of flowers, surprising you at work. though the surprise part was ruined, considering you could hear the sounds of him shrugging off and yelling at reporters while heading to you. he can deal with the flame, but not when it prevents him from seeing you.

"yeah yeah, just take them. your office needs it." he feigns irritation while pressing a kiss to your head. "dinner's on me tonight."

con: he has a temper

this is obvious. even years after graduating and making a name for himself, you have moments you remember UA high school student katsuki bakugou: the guy who'd call everyone extras because he didn't bother to learn anyone's names. the guy who was muzzled after winning the sports festival because if they didn't, he'd still be kicking and swinging. they guy who is mildly angry on a good day, and dangerously fuming two minutes after.

its one thing you've learned to love about him. he's a guard dog, barking and snapping at anyone who dares to even think badly of you. if he could be summed up in one word, it'd be protector. he'd give up a limb before giving you up, and act offended by the idea that he'd do anything else in that situation.

but similarly, its something both you and him feel exhausted over at times. you may truly be the only person in the world who can deal with him, even when he's saying fuck in every other sentence and his voice goes up 3 decibels. he respects you for it, but won't deny the pinch of guilt in his chest when he sees you taking a deep breath, summoning patience for his impatience.

he isn't sure why you put up with him. but he knows better than to question something he doesn't want to lose.

4 hours after an explosive argument, katsuki comes back to your bedroom. you can tell by his hair and wrinkled clothes that he's been tossing and turning on the couch. and katsuki can most definitely afford good furniture, which means the source of his insomnia is guilt- not bad cushioning.

sometimes, he apologizes like he's practiced and rehearsed it in his heard. for once, he's filtering himself, thinking of what he's saying, because what you hear matters to him. more than anything else does. "you didn't deserve to be yelled at. i'm sorry."

are you still angry? yes. do you miss laying your head on his chest in bed? also, yes.

pro: he’s loyal

the truth is, katsuki could have anyone he wants. models, actresses, other glamorous heroes like him. he's loved and adored and idolized by every flashing camera in the world. but all of that fades to nothing when he looks at you, knowing he already has everything.

his devotion to you is endless, even himself wondering how far he'd go to protect you. he knows deep down that his loves reaches till the end of the world. because with you? he has a reason to push through rubble and flames and blood, to put his life on the line each day, and to watch orange incandescence emerge from his palms and into the sky. hero work means nothing without purpose. you give that reason a whole new meaning.

he has a necklace he never told you about, just something he let you figure out on his own. it was brought to your attention after seemingly everyone on instagram was on some kind of mission to decode the silver letters he wore in a delicate chain around his neck, wanting to decipher what they mean. and when you do find out? he says nothing, just pulls you closer kisses your temple.

"i want one now.' you smile, eyes misty from the gesture. "with your initials."

"yeah, yeah, idiot. you have my card."

con: he’s insecure

and its something that no one would ever even guess about him. how could he, the up and coming number 1 hero, the most dedicated, handsome, strong person in the world, possibly be insecure?

he's used to being a tank, taking hits and punches and fatalities, walking it off before heading back into battle. he's conditioned to ignore the purple arising to the surface of his skin and the cracks in his bones that continue to grow. but you see it in the way he stays up at night, looking up at the ceiling, wondering which day will be his last if he dares to blink and be anything less than perfect. or when he keeps the shower running cold, like trying to wash out those sticky, gloomy thoughts that penetrate his head. he's the best. he's supposed to be the best. what if one day, he suddenly wasn't?

oh, and the reason katsuki knows how to deal with panic attacks is because he's had so many of his own. even after recovering, they've gotten worse after the war. if its not doubts, its memories of the pain, of the blood he didn't realize he could lose, the life he lost for a heartbeat. he knows death. but it isn't his own death that scares him. the thought of losing anyone else to that fate is the worst possible thing that could ever happen to him.

"told you i'm fine." he utters, cocking his head to you as he gets into bed. nobody died, and his agency wrote it off as a miscalculation, but he almost broke down in the shower after he failed to prevent a fatal accident while on patrol.

"its just me and you here." your voice mellows over his hidden anxieties, like honey. the breath he lets out his shakier than he'd like it to be as he starts to open up.

pro: everything he is, is yours

sometimes he wonders what exactly he's able to offer you. a nice life, for starters. protection and security. but beyond that, katsuki looks at you and finally understands why people lost their minds and fought wars. he understands the nervousness, the anticipation, the longing.

he looks at you, and then himself. at his hypothetical or factual shortcomings and imperfections. he sees them and wants to keep growing, to keep getting better until he deserves you. he’s always lived to be the best. but now he lives to be the best, for you.

and at the end of the day, he has nothing to prove. he’s already everything. the world can call it what the want.

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asce-of-hearts · 4 months ago

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asce! , here’s an idea maybe the reader tries to escape but gets caught by the yandere but instead like a physical punishment or scolding cause they think your acting this way cause you want attention. so they start babying you and just smothering you with affections, kisses, cuddles etc and constantly trying to dumb you down and teach you a lesson .

-🦊

Smothered

contents: Yan!Naruto, Yan!Kakashi, Yan!Gaara, Yan!Jiraiya and Yan!Kiba catching gn!reader escaping and thinking they only did it to get their attention.

more content for Gaara here

more content for Naruto, Kakashi, Jiraiya and Kiba here

A/N: These are just small drabbles to get into writing again, sorry if they're shorter than usual :,)

WARNINGS: ESCAPE ATTEMPTS, YANDERE, OBSESSIVE AND POSSESSIVE BEHAVIOR, NSFW-ISH IN SOME PARTS, MANIPULATION, COHERTION.

Gaara

Gaara is sure this is his fault.

He knows he isn't... the most affectionate. Maybe that's why you did this, for him to show that he cares for you, that he would like to remain by your side forever and ever.

His touch is rough and coarse, and he rubs himself against you like an overgrown kitten. His eyes closed, your hands restrained by sand that hurts every time it rubs against your sensitive skin. His lashes flutter as he opens his eyes to look at you, offering the most gentle of smiles.

"I... I love you..." He whispers, and you shudder. He says it so mechanically, like he's not entirely human, you squirm, and his heart leaps with joy. Are you trying to get out of your restraints to touch him? Cradle his head and kiss him? Oh, how beautiful you are. But he can't let you go for now, he has a point to prove. "I will always love you. And you never have to do this again. I will provide you with all the attention and care you ask me for."

The sand wraps around your neck when you try to scream for help.

Jiraiya

"Stupid, stupid little thing. There was no need to do all this drama if you wanted attention and love." He grins, flicking you on the forehead before kissing the bruised spot. He has you effectively trapped with rope, unable to do anything but move your head and the tips of your toes. Have I mentioned he also has you gagged? "But I get it, you know? I have been traveling for my job and my investigations. I haven't destined you enough time. But enough of that! Now I will be next to you every single second of the day." He punctuates every last of those words with a kiss to your face.

He carries you over his shoulder, not even making an effort as he tosses you over himself as if you weight nothing. He delivers a tap to your ass.

"But first I have to get you home... and compensate for all the love I haven't given you."

The predatory smile that plays on his lips is enough of a warning for you to never try anything like what you did again.

Kakashi Hatake

"I thought we would be over with this... childish behavior by now," He sighs, rolling his eyes when you try to kick him, as if the trap he set hadn't you dangling upside down. "Then again, I can't blame you for... lashing out. I guess I've been neglectful."

He pushes you slightly, making you dangle from side to side. He smirks, and then stops you, unties you and only restrains you by grabbing you by the wrists. He rests his chin over your shoulder.

"I could pop your wrist bones right now and get this over with, but since I'm mostly to blame, I'll let it pass for now." His voice always holds that teasing tone, like he's making fun of you. As he makes you walk back inside your home, his touch loosens, ultimately only guiding you by the small of your back. A power move, a reminder of how he could stop you in a second if you tried to go for a run again. Your escape attempts useless. "I'm sorry, m'kay? I'll be all the more doting from now on."

He relishes on how you can't refuse.

Kiba Inuzuka

He pins you to the ground, panting, breathing heavily, almost drooling. He's too much like a dog.

"Almost-" He takes a second to catch his breath. "Almost escaped me there. What were you trying to do now? Help me with my training?" He plays oblivious to what you were doing. You're both sweaty and covered in dirt from the forest, from the running and from the rolling around in the dirty when he tackled you. "It's not that useful, because your smell is already engraved in my brain. I could find you anywhere at anytime... as long as you don't change your perfume."

He collapses on top of you, clinging to your body as he tries to scent you, to get more of you inside his brain, his nose, his mouth. You catch the grunt and the soft whimper that escapes his lip as he starts to lick at the nape of your neck.

At how you can feel the tent in his pants as he rubs himself against you.

Naruto Uzumaki

"Don't do that, I'm sorry. I know I have been busy, but I'm here now." His voice is a childish whine, almost reminding you of the age that you both met. He clings to you, his claws out at the thought of you leaving him. He can't let you leave, you're his only one, you're his. "I'll take a short vacation. I'll be with you all the time, alright? I promise, I promise!"

He sounds like he's about to cry, but he's just trembling, holding you so tight you think he might break your ribs by accident if he tightens his grip just a little more.

"Are you leaving me because you hate me?" His eyes are intense, filled with longing, with possessiveness and with sadness. A mixture of emotions that just shouldn't be together. You can't help it when you shake your head, disagreeing. He smiles, holding you tighter, making you gasp in pain. "I knew it. I knew you didn't hate me."

He peppers kisses all over your face, the claws and the tail and the burning chacra that surrounded him disappearing quickly. He curls against you on the bed, spooning you.

"I will never, ever let you leave."

hope you enjoyed this

have a great day/night

TAGGING: @mimihaitani

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saatorus · 27 days ago

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had the brightest idea…sukuna x tattoo artist reader..😪😪

wc: 1.4k

warnings: smut (unprotected sex)

authors note: anon anon anon. i need to pull your head off so i can get access to your brain like kenjaku so that i can give your smart brain a lil smooch. this was fun to write :3

The first time he walked into your studio, he had zero tattoos. Just scars from what looked like getting into fistfights and that sharp, cocky grin.

You didn’t think he was serious. Guys like him—too smooth, too smug—usually just wanted to flirt and bounce. But he picked a design off your wall, pointed to his chest, and said, “Right here. First one. Don’t fuck it up.”

You didn’t. In fact, he looked almost… reverent, watching you prep. Like he wasn’t used to being touched gently.

You assumed he’d be a one-and-done. He was not. He came back the next week, shirt already off when he walked in. “What’s up, picasso shawty. Wanna do my ribs next?”

You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt, but you let him sit. Again. And again.

He kept coming back. More tattoos. Bigger pieces. One on his back. One winding around his thigh. Some you designed just for him—your art permanently etched into his skin.

Your studio’s small. One chair. Walls covered in sketches and post-it notes. Half your tools are secondhand, but your work is crisp—clean lines, solid shading. Sukuna never comments on it directly, but he never lets anyone else touch him. Not once.

You pretend not to notice how he watches you set up. The way he stares at your hands like he’s memorizing every move.

He’s always saying dumb shit.

“If I say something filthy mid-session, will you mess up on purpose?”

“If you talk while I’m doing linework again, I’m putting a Hello Kitty on your ass.”

“Tempting.”

You keep it professional for months. Years. But it’s not cold—it’s comfortable. Inside jokes. Dumb snacks during long sessions. Him crashing on your couch once when it got too late. You drawing a fake tattoo on his thigh with sharpie “just to mess with him.”

One night, you’re doing a detailed piece low on his hip. He’s quiet, for once. Then:

“You ever think about how many hours you’ve spent touching me?”

You blink.

“You ever think about shutting the hell up?”

But your voice cracks a little.

The shift is small. He starts showing up without appointments. You don’t kick him out. You start drawing designs with him in mind. You stop correcting him when he calls you “baby” just to mess with you.

One night, it’s late. Like should’ve closed an hour ago late. The shop is quiet, just the soft hum of the fluorescent light and whatever chill R&B playlist is still looping from your phone. You’re cleaning up after a late session with Sukuna—again. He’s lounging in the chair, shirt half-on, scrolling on his phone like he lives here now.

“You know I have other clients, right?” you mutter, wiping down your machine.

He doesn’t look up. “Yeah? You tattoo them like you do me?”

You pause. “What the fuck does that mean?”

He looks up now, real slow. Smirk twitching at the edge of his mouth. “Means you get real quiet when you're working on me. Like you’re focused or… like you’re trying not to think too hard.”

You toss the rag on the tray, annoyed. “I don’t know if you know this, but that’s actually called doing my job.”

“You’re shaky sometimes,” he adds, casual. “Especially when I’m shirtless. Or when I ask for spots you gotta like, get on your knees for.”

You scoff. “You think you’re hot shit.”

He stands. Walks up, real close. “I know I am. But that’s not the point.”

Now he’s right in front of you. Not touching—but close enough that you feel him. Heat off his skin. The scent of his cologne and smoke and something distinctly him.

“You wanna do it or not?” he says, voice low, like he’s done waiting.

Your stomach flips. “Do what?”

“Come on,” he mutters, like he’s tired of the game. “You’ve been looking at me like you want to fuck me since the third tattoo. You gonna keep pretending or you gonna let me fuck you in that chair of yours?”

Your throat goes dry. You stare at him—cocky bastard, red eyes burning into yours, hands flexing at his sides like he’s holding back too.

You don’t say anything. Just grab the front of his hoodie and pull him in. Not your proudest moment professionalism-wise, but he kissed you like he’d been waiting for this.

The kiss is messy. Too fast. All teeth and tongue and breathless gasps. You don’t know who moans first—doesn’t matter. His hands are already on your ass, pulling you in like he’s starving.

You shove him back into the chair. Straddle him. His hands slide up your shirt, palms hot and rough, and he mutters, “Been jerking off thinking about this for months, fuck.”

Your fingers are already at his belt. “Shut up.”

“Not a chance,” he laughs, voice wrecked. “You’re gonna hear how bad I wanted this.”

You sink onto him right there, still half-dressed, the whole thing rushed and reckless. The studio smells like ink and sweat and skin. He’s gripping your hips like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. And you’re riding him like you’ve been needing it just as bad.

No soft words. No slow build. Just the creak of the chair. His filthy mouth in your ear. Your nails digging into his shoulders. And that broken sound he makes when you clamp around him, whispering “Fuck, don’t stop—”

Before you know it, you’re clamping down on him, hard, your orgasm washing in pleasurable waves over you. He follows suit, a final thrust of his hips, emptying his load inside of you.

The only sound is your breathing—still uneven—and the low thrum of the playlist you forgot was even on. You’re half-naked in your own damn studio, still straddling Sukuna in the chair, clothes tugged out of place, skin flushed and sticky with sweat and everything you’d been ignoring for way too long.

You shift off him with a wince. “Holy shit. That chair is not designed for fucking.”

He groans and leans back like he’s broken. “Speak for yourself. I’m thriving.”

“You’re gonna walk outta here bow-legged.”

“Shut the fuck up. I’ll limp home with dignity.”

You tug your shirt back down and start reaching for paper towels, the reality of what just happened catching up to your brain.

“Yo—chill,” Sukuna mutters, standing up behind you and gently taking the paper towels from your hand. “I got it.”

You blink, thrown off.

He gives you a flat look. “I just fucked you in your sacred little tattoo chair. Least I can do is wipe you down…and the damn chair down too.”

You snort, but your stomach flips at the way he says it—casual, like it’s no big deal, but not teasing either.

He gently parts your legs, a grin on his face when he sees himself seeping out of you, wiping the mess clean. You lightly push your foot against his chest when he continues staring and he finally relents, snickering and grabbing your disinfectant spray.

He grabs a fresh towel, sprays down the chair, even gets the floor where one of you knocked over the rinse cup. You watch him for a second—shirtless, pulling on your pants and standing up—shakily— still flushed, watching the glint of his rings on his fingers as he moves. Like this is just part of the routine now.

“Don’t get used to this,” he says, not looking at you. “I just—y’know. Respect the tools.”

You raise an eyebrow. “So what, fucking me is now a line item on your cleaning checklist?”

He grins, tossing the used towel into the bin. “Only if it’s a recurring event.”

You scoff and toss him a water bottle. He catches it midair without flinching, cracks it open like this is just… normal now.

And maybe it kind of is.

He walks back over, presses the cold bottle lightly to your cheek with a smirk. “Still blushing?”

“Still annoying.”

“Still wet?”

You swat him, laughing despite yourself, but you don’t pull away.

There’s a weird quiet after that. Not awkward—just new. Like something’s shifted and neither of you’s pretending otherwise.

You break it first, voice lower now. “So… you still want that piece over your heart?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “If it’s your name? Yeah.”

“You’re so corny. That trend died in 2015.” You roll your eyes, but the smirk tugging at your mouth gives you away.

And when he leans in and kisses you again, actually moving his lips against you with a soft precision, different to how his tongue had been plunged into your mouth just minutes before. He grins—sharp— before uncapping the water bottle.

After a sip of the water, he looks at you over the bottle. “So… you free next week?”

You narrow your eyes. “For what?”

He shrugs. “Tattoo. Fuck. Hang out. Whatever. Don’t pretend you’re not thinking about doing it again.”

You groan. “You are so lucky you’re kinda hot.”

He winks. “And marked up like your own personal sex doll. Admit it—you liked the dick.”

You’re smiling this time. It’s different now. Maybe him being a regular wasn’t so bad at all.

#ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader smut #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader smut #sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna smut #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut #jjk x you #sukuna ryomen #jjk sukuna #jjk sukuna smut #jjk sukuna x reader

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drfranklangdon · 7 months ago

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They get into the car and Buck immediately takes off his tie and tosses it to the back seat. He’s never been much of a suit guy. But it was a funeral, he had to dress up. And make Tommy dress up too. Same as him, Tommy is also not a suit guy. It’s hard to get those beefy arms into a tailored jacket.

Tommy starts the engine and turns to Buck with the most affectionate glint in his eyes. He stares at him for a few moments, just taking in his view. “What?” Buck asks, smirking. “Something on my face?”

Tommy rolls his eyes and starts driving. “You’re cute is all.”

“I am?” His cheeks flush and he ducks his head the way he always does when Tommy compliments him. “Even covered in boils?”

“Of course.” It’s their thing – ‘Of course.’ Before every shift, one texts ‘Be safe’ and the other responds ‘Of course.’ Buck wants to get it tattooed on himself. It’s way too early for permanent commitments, but he can’t shake the idea. “You’re always cute, Baby.”

“This mean you’re going to kiss me now?” He says pursing his lips, even though Tommy’s eyes are on the road.

“Don’t continue this slander, Evan.” He replies, deadpan as ever. The dry charm is so hot, damn. “I did a hell of a lot more than kiss you this morning.” True. Actually, now that Buck is thinking about it – a rim job is just one long, pleasurable kiss.

“On the face, Kinard.” Buck can deal with the itchiness and sore arm. What he can’t handle is going over twenty-four hours without feeling Tommy’s lips on his own. “Don’t you miss kissing my birthmark every other minute?”

Tommy looks over just in time to see Buck pout and shine his best ‘puppy dog’ eyes at him. He laughs and looks back at the road. “Brat.” He knows exactly how to push his boyfriend’s buttons. “I’ll make up all the missed kisses… once you’re better.”

“And not gross?” Yeah okay, so maybe he is a bit of a brat.

“Did I not call you cute five minutes ago?”

Buck crosses his arms over his chest and huffs. “Not cute enough to kiss apparently.”

***

They eventually get stuck in Traffic. Buck switches from his dress shoes to sneakers, not being able to handle another moment of uncomfortable torture. “Better?” How Tommy is driving with his on, Buck has no idea.

“Much.” There’s a bit of comfortable silence between them, just NPR playing too soft to make out in the background. “I-I want to thank you, babe.” Buck admits shyly, patting Tommy’s (thick) thigh. “For doing this. I know you think I’m dumb for believing in all this curse crap.” He bites the inside of his cheek, feeling a bit small. “I appreciate you going along with it anyway… driving me out to fucking Temecula of all places and indulging my – uh – my weirdness.”

Tommy’s lips flatten and he tsks, shaking his head. “First of all, baby. I don’t think you’re dumb. And you shouldn’t think that either.” He quickly looks over to Buck, making sure he’s taking his words in. And with the way he looks at him, how could Buck not? “This curse means something to you, so of course I was going to help.” Buck feels his chest tighten. This man. “Even spoke to Billy for you.”

“Yeah?” His eyes light up. “What did you say?”

“That’s between me and the dead man.” He places his hand on top of Buck’s on his leg. “He knows not to mess with my boy.”

His cheeks flush and he squirms a little in his seat as a burst of heat travels through him. “Yeah, Daddy – you gonna fight a ghost for me?”

“I’ll fight a thousand ghosts for you, Evan.” Something about the way he says it, in his usual stoic tone, but laced with so much admiration – makes Buck honestly believe him. Not that he’ll literally fight a ghost - although with this Billy situation, who’s to say that couldn’t happen? – but that Tommy will fight for him, for them. He will go to bat for him; time and time again showing up whether Buck needs him or not. He’s all in.

Is this what it feels like to find the one? Buck’s not sure. It didn’t feel like this with Abby or Taylor. He loved them – in different ways. But nothing close to this. Buck can’t imagine a life where Tommy isn’t beside him, indulging him in his antics and looking at him like he’s the sun, moon, and all the stars in between. It’s too early to say it, he knows it is. But, fuck, he really is in love. “Tommy –“ He says, his boyfriend quickly glancing from the road to him. “You matter so much to me.”

“You matter to me too, baby.” Tommy smiles, his eyes crinkling beautifully and so kissable. Maybe they can just pull over for a quickie? “Evan, know this. I will happily put on a suit and drive to Temecula whenever you ask. As long you keep being you.”

Sounds a hell of a lot like Tommy wants to say ‘I love you’ too. Just not now. Not while he’s covered in boils and driving. Because the second he says it, he has to know Buck will say it back and then drown him in kisses. The moment will come soon enough.

***

Buck eventually falls asleep against the window. With all the traffic, it takes them an hour longer than it should have to get back to LA. Tommy shakes him a little to wake him up, leaving a line of drool on the glass. He blinks a few times at the setting sun shining in his eyes, not recognizing the building they’re outside of. Tommy comes around the truck to open Buck’s door for him. Such a gentleman. “Where are we?”

He sighs affectionately. “A dermatologist, Evan.”

#bucktommy #bucktommy coda #bucktommy Drabble #coda #911 #911 spoilers #911 8x05 #Tevan #Tevan Drabble #Tevan coda #my writing

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wbbobsesserr · 13 days ago

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ᯓ sweet spot — chapter five

pairing: paige bueckers & azzi fudd

notes: we’re finally back on track! everyone cheers. chapter six, aka a new chapter, should be expected soon. also please lemme know what you wanna see in future chapters, i’ve run out of ideas. love you.

my masterlist

wc: 4.6k

azzi and paige split after eating a quick breakfast together. the second she made it back to her own room, she face-planted onto her bed, groaning into the blanket.

she needed to debrief.

 she needed to scream into the void.

instead, she grabbed her phone and thumbed open her text thread with nika, typing furiously:

paige: dude paige: i think i’m actually in love paige: like not in a cute haha kinda way paige: like if she looked at me and said “let’s move to a cabin in the woods and raise goats” i would pack my shit TONIGHT paige: if she said “hey will you marry me” i’d say yes so fast it would be embarrassing paige: i don’t even care if it’s a ring pop. i don’t even care if she’s kidding. i’d be at the altar in three seconds flat paige: is that insane paige: i think it’s insane paige: but like. she’s it. she’s actually it. i’m done for.

send.

paige sighed, a deep dramatic breath, and tossed her phone onto her bed like she was done thinking about it.

except.

something gnawed at her gut.

a bad feeling.

a really, really bad feeling.

she sat up, grabbed her phone again— and saw it.

azzi: uhhhhh 👀👀👀 azzi: so do i get to know who the lucky girl is or azzi: bc tbh i kinda wanna hear more about this goat farm plan lmao

paige pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. of course she accidentally sent it to azzi— god had sick jokes.

“fuck my life.”

she wanted to run into incoming traffic. throw herself off a goddamn bridge. cease to fucking exist.

instead she choked out a breathless reply:

paige: hahaha paige: just a dumb thought paige: ignore me pls

another buzz, almost instantly:

azzi: nooo i like it it’s cute lol azzi: i hope whoever she is knows how lucky she is

paige flopped back against her bed.

“you are,” she shouted to her ceiling. “you’re the lucky one. it’s you.”

but her phone stayed silent in her hand. because some things— the biggest, scariest things— she still couldn’t say.

not yet. 

maybe not ever.

paige stood at azzi’s door, her heart thumping against her ribs. she’d half-expected her to cancel at the last minute, or maybe send her a “never mind” text. but no— azzi had texted her earlier today, asking if she wanted to come over, just to hang out since noah wasn’t around. casual. chill. no big deal.

right.

so, here she was, standing in front of azzi’s door, feeling a little like a wreck. paige wasn’t good at casual when it came to azzi. she was mildly good at making everything seem chill, acting like it was nothing, but the truth was, she was about one glance away from combusting.

she knocked three times, quickly, the kind of knock that made it sound like she was overly eager, but then stepped back, trying to cross her arms and act like her heart wasn’t going a million miles per minute.

the door swung open and azzi stood there, in a simple sweater and jeans, her hair pulled back in a messy bun. as always, she looked effortlessly cool, like she wasn’t trying, like she didn’t have the power to make paige’s heart go haywire simply by existing.

“hey,” azzi greeted her, a smile already pulling at her lips. “i’m so glad you came over.”

paige swallowed, forcing a calm smile. “of course,” she said, voice just a little too high-pitched for her liking. “anytime. literally.”

azzi stepped aside to let her in, and the scent of vanilla hit paige as she walked through the door. azzi’s room had this cozy, lived-in feel— books piled on a desk, a few stray clothes draped over a chair, a couple of photos of her teammates on the wall. it was warm, inviting, and paige had to remind herself that this was just a hangout. just two people chilling. no big deal.

“want something to drink?” azzi asked, already heading over to her mini-fridge.

“um, i’m good,” paige replied, but she was already looking around the room, trying to seem like she wasn’t sweating bullets. “thanks, though.”

azzi looked over her shoulder, her eyes soft.

after that, they both just sort of hovered there for a second, like neither one of them quite knew what to do next. it was too quiet. and paige had to get out of her head before she made it worse.

“actually,” paige spoke up, her voice coming out a little faster than she intended, “i was thinking maybe we could go out for ice cream or something? just to— y'know, get outta here for a bit.”

azzi blinked, tilting her head. “ice cream?”

“yeah,” paige rushed to explain, her face flushing a little. “just, you know. i could go for some mint chip and... just hang out. only if you’re down.”

azzi laughed lightly, that soft sound that always seemed to make paige’s chest tighten. “i like that idea. let me grab my jacket.”

azzi disappeared for a second, and paige took the opportunity to steady her breathing. what is wrong with me, she thought, pacing just a little bit in her mind. this was nothing new— she and azzi had hung out plenty of times before, but today... today felt different. she couldn’t tell if it was because of her dumb text from last night (which, by the way, she was still embarrassed about), or if it was the way azzi had smiled at her today, or the fact that they were going out just the two of them.

azzi returned, looking effortlessly cute in a jacket that fit her perfectly, her sneakers clicking softly against the floor as she walked. “ready?” she asked, eyes lighting up with that excitement that paige loved so much.

they walked outside, and paige kept her pace slow, trying to match azzi’s, but she couldn’t help the way her heart picked up when azzi casually looped her arm through paige’s. it wasn’t flirtatious, wasn’t suggestive— it was just azzi being azzi: comfortable, sweet. but for paige, it felt like everything. every step was too much, and not enough at the same time.

“good thing the ice cream place is so close,” azzi said, looking at paige with that soft smile again. “i’m starving.”

“same,” paige muttered, her voice a little too tight. she cleared her throat. “i’m really— really glad you asked me to hang.”

azzi glanced over, catching paige’s gaze, and smiled. “i’m glad i asked you too,” she agreed, “really glad.”

paige could feel herself blushing, her heart thumping louder. she forced herself to look straight ahead instead of at azzi, and just tried to focus on the fact that they were walking side by side, and that, for now, was enough.

when they reached the ice cream shop, it was small and cozy, and there was a short line. paige stayed close, still feeling the weight of azzi’s arm looped through hers, even though they weren’t holding hands or anything. it felt natural, but paige couldn’t ignore how it made her feel— like she was a little closer to azzi than she had ever been before.

azzi ordered first, mentioning how she was in the mood for something with chocolate, and paige quickly followed suit, pointing to a flavor she’d been craving all day— mint chocolate chip, her all time favorite.

when it came time to pay, azzi barely had the opportunity to move before paige stopped her, placing her hand on azzi’s arm. “i’ve got it,” she said quickly, not giving azzi a chance to protest.

azzi raised an eyebrow, the smallest smirk playing at her lips. “paige, really, it’s fine.”

“azzi. i asked to come here, i’m paying,” paige insisted, digging into her wallet and pulling out her credit card.

she handed it over before azzi could argue, because, well, this was just how paige worked— stubborn, determined, and maybe a little bit nervous.

azzi smiled softly, like she wasn’t sure what to say, and paige pretended she wasn’t completely melting at the sight.

“thanks,” azzi said, her voice gentle. “you didn’t have to, but i appreciate it.”

they found a bench nearby, sitting side by side and just... being there. paige scooped the mint flavor, trying not to make it look like she was overthinking every little thing.

azzi was quiet too, enjoying her ice cream, and for a while, there was nothing but the sound of their footsteps, the evening air, and the quiet conversation that filled in the gaps.

“i’m really glad we’re doing this,” azzi said again, taking another scoop in her mouth. “it’s nice to just relax. no expectations.”

“yeah,” paige agreed, glancing sideways at azzi. she really meant it. “it’s been a weird few weeks, but today’s been good.”

azzi nodded, looking over at her for a moment before speaking again. “yeah. i always like hanging out with you. you’re really fun.”

that made paige’s stomach flip in the best (and worst) way. “i’m glad,” she repeated softly, her eyes trailing to the ground for a second before meeting azzi’s gaze. “it’s easy to talk to you.”

azzi grinned, eyes twinkling, as if she hadn’t even realized the weight of what she said. “i'm happy you feel that way, too.”

they both sat in silence for a moment, eating their ice cream, neither one of them saying what they really wanted to say. but for now, this was enough.

the next day, the team met for dinner in the dining hall after wrapping up their classes. paige showed up late, hoodie pulled up over her messy blonde hair, headphones on and music blasting. the noise of the dining hall wasn’t quite as loud as usual, but there was a buzz in the air— people talking, laughing, the usual chatter. paige made her way through the crowded tables and spotted an empty seat next to caroline, sliding in with a sigh of relief.

but azzi wasn’t there.

that was weird. azzi was always on time. always present.

paige’s eyes darted around the table, scanning for any sign of her. nothing. just caroline and nika, both eating like everything was normal.

“where’s azzi?” paige asked, tugging off her headphones and letting them rest around her neck.

caroline shrugged, not looking up from her food. “no idea. she left early after practice.”

paige’s stomach twisted, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of her stomach. the last time she’d seen azzi was... well, earlier that day, when they’d hung out. everything had seemed fine, but now she wasn’t even at dinner?

“maybe with noah?” nika suggested, glancing up from her phone.

paige’s throat tightened at the mention of noah, azzi’s long-distance boyfriend. she texted azzi quickly, not even thinking about it.

paige: u okay?

no answer.

she stared at her phone for a few seconds, then texted again.

paige: saw u weren’t at dinner. just checking in.

still nothing.

that feeling in her stomach was only getting worse.

paige glanced over at caroline and nika, both of them talking about some random thing, clearly not noticing the shift in her. she pushed her tray away from her, stood up abruptly, and grabbed her phone again.

“hey, i’ll be back,” she said, her voice just a little too sharp, making the girls look up. “i think i’ll go check on azzi.”

without waiting for a response, she left, pushing through the doors and into the cool evening air. the walk to azzi’s dorm was a blur, her thoughts a mess of confusion and nerves. was everything okay? why wasn’t azzi at dinner? why was she ignoring her texts? did she do something wrong?

when she finally reached the dorm, she was out of breath from the jog, but she didn’t stop. she didn’t even think to knock. she just tried the door handle.

locked.

paige’s heart dropped, a tight knot forming in her chest. she knocked softly at first. no answer. her hand was shaking, but she knocked again, louder this time, her heart thudding in her chest like it was trying to escape.

there was a pause. then, the door cracked open just an inch. azzi’s red-rimmed eyes met hers, and paige’s heart did a little flip.

“azzi,” paige breathed, her voice softer than she meant it to be. “what happened?”

azzi didn’t answer immediately. she just stepped back, opening the door wider, letting paige in without a word.

paige stepped inside and stopped in her tracks.

the room was dim, lit only by the small desk lamp in the corner. tissues were scattered across her desk. azzi moved to sit on the edge of her bed, crossing her legs, her hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands like she was trying to hide from the world. her eyes were puffy, red, tears still clinging to her lashes.

“noah cheated,” azzi’s voice was barely a whisper, but it felt like a punch to paige’s gut. “he said it happened once. a party. someone he barely knew. it just— he just said it like it didn’t matter.”

paige froze, not quite sure if she’d heard her right. “what?”

azzi swallowed hard, her lips trembling as she tried to hold it together. “he said it didn’t mean anything. that it was a mistake.”

paige stood there, frozen. her heart was pounding, but she didn’t know what to say. she took a step forward, slow, careful, like azzi might break if she moved too quickly. paige blinked once, stunned— and then the emotion hit her hard and fast. anger. sharp and hot in her chest.

“what a fucking bitch,” she muttered under her breath, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

azzi looked up at her, startled, a tiny breath of something that almost sounded like a laugh catching in her throat.

paige’s jaw tightened, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “seriously. who the hell does he think he is? you didn’t deserve that. you didn’t deserve any of it.”

azzi ducked her head, a few fresh tears spilling onto her cheeks, but there was a tiny, almost invisible smile too. like she wasn’t used to someone getting mad for her.

paige took a shaky breath, forcing herself to calm down. she softened again, reaching out carefully, her hand resting gently on azzi’s knee.

“i’m so sorry,” paige said, quieter this time. her voice still shook with the weight of how much she meant it.

they sat in silence a while after that. azzi was staring at the wall, her eyes unfocused. it was a heavy kind of silence, the kind that didn’t feel awkward; more painful than anything.

“all i said was ‘thanks for telling me,’“ azzi laughed, but it came out weak. “i’m so stupid,” her voice cracking slightly as she looked at the ground.

paige sat next to her, not too close but just enough to show she was there. she reached over, her hand resting gently on azzi’s knee. azzi’s gaze flickered down to her hand, and paige’s heart raced, the weight of the touch pressing into her chest.

“you’re not stupid,” paige insisted, her voice soft but firm. “he’s the one who messed up, not you.”

azzi exhaled shakily. “i thought we were solid. kinda. even with the distance.”

“you were,” paige said, her eyes meeting azzi’s. “he wasn’t.”

there was another long pause. azzi looked so small in that moment, curled up in on herself like she didn’t know how to piece things back together. paige wanted to say more, wanted to make everything better, but she didn’t know how.

she just stayed silent, letting her hand linger on azzi’s knee, offering what little comfort she could.

after what felt like an eternity, azzi let out a shaky breath and leaned into paige, just a little, like the exhaustion was finally catching up to her. paige didn’t pull away. she didn’t speak.

she just stayed.

and when azzi’s head rested against her shoulder, paige felt her heart break a little more. not from pity, not from sympathy. but because she could feel it. the weight of everything unspoken between them. the distance between their worlds.

but for now, it was just the two of them in the dim room, with nothing but silence and a shared, unspoken connection.

the silence stretched on, heavy but comforting. azzi’s head was still resting on paige’s shoulder, her breathing evening out as the quiet of the room settled around them. it wasn’t awkward, not at all, but it felt like the weight of everything between them was a little too much to say out loud.

after a while, azzi shifted, sitting up just slightly, her eyes still glossy and tired. she sniffled a little, wiping at her face with the sleeve of her hoodie.

paige, her heart still aching for her, didn’t move, just kept her gaze steady on azzi. “you okay?”

“yeah.” azzi’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper. “tired. not just from everything, but just... i don’t know. everything’s just too much right now.”

paige nodded, understanding. she felt it, too. the pressure of everything that wasn’t said, of everything that was left unsaid between them.

there was a beat of silence before azzi looked at her with those big eyes, still a little red but softer now. her lips parted as if she were gathering the courage to say something. “hey, um. would it be weird if you stayed the night?”

paige blinked, taken aback. she wasn’t sure what azzi meant by it, but she didn’t hesitate for a second.

“you want me to stay?” paige asked, her voice a little tentative, even though her heart was already thudding in her chest.

azzi gave a small, sad smile, her fingers twisting nervously in her hoodie sleeves. “yeah. i... i don’t want to be alone tonight.”

paige’s chest tightened. she didn’t want azzi to be alone either.

“of course,” paige said, her voice gentle and sincere. “i’d love that.”

there was a moment where azzi’s eyes softened with relief, her shoulders relaxing. she gave paige a small, almost shy smile. “thanks.”

“no problem.” paige shifted on the bed, adjusting so she could face azzi more comfortably.

she kicked off her sneakers, leaving them by the door, and slipped under the covers. she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to stay on the edge of the bed or... what. but azzi didn’t make it awkward. she just curled up a little tighter, and paige did the same.

the room was quiet again, save for the soft hum of the fan above them and the occasional sound of their breathing. paige wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, just existing together in the same space. it was peaceful, but the quiet was different than usual. now, it felt more intimate somehow. like a slow, careful dance of two people who were both a little afraid of stepping on each other’s toes.

the hours drifted by, and eventually, paige started to feel the weight of sleep pulling at her. her body relaxed into the bed, her muscles loosening the tension of the day. but just as her eyelids started to flutter closed, she felt something. a soft touch against her side— azzi’s hand, lightly brushing against hers.

paige’s heart jumped, and her breath caught in her throat. she wasn’t sure if azzi even meant to do it, but the brush of skin sent a wave of warmth through her chest. she didn’t move, didn’t pull away. she simply let it happen.

the quiet was different now. heavier, but not in a bad way. charged. and before she could stop herself, paige slowly moved her hand, just barely, until their fingers brushed once more.

it felt like a spark. small, but intense.

azzi didn’t pull away. in fact, she seemed to relax into the touch. the warmth of her hand against paige’s felt grounding. natural.

paige’s heart beat a little faster, but she tried to stay still, tried not to overthink it. azzi was hurting, and paige just wanted to be there. to be whatever she needed.

then, just as the night settled deeper, there was another soft shift. this time, azzi’s hand moved, her fingers curling slightly as if asking for more. paige hesitated for a moment, but then she intertwined her fingers with hers, just gently. like it was the easiest thing in the world.

but god, was she nervous.

“you’re warm,” azzi whispered, her voice tired but steady.

paige scrunched her lips, trying to act as calm and collected as possible. “yeah, um— it’s kinda hot in here. that’s all.”

it was nearly winter. in connecticut.

azzi hummed, and instead of teasing paige further, she squeezed paige’s hand just a little tighter. the touch was quiet, sweet, and in that moment, paige realized she didn’t have to say everything. not right now. not yet.

still, she let herself shift a little closer, closing the small space between them under the covers. azzi didn’t move away— if anything, she seemed to breathe a little easier.

the room was cool, the fan humming low above them. the atmosphere around them was one paige never wanted to leave. a different kind of comfort. one that made her chest ache in a way she didn’t have words for.

her free hand drifted up almost without thinking, fingertips finding the soft curls at the nape of azzi’s neck. she twisted a strand gently around her finger, slow and absent, like she was afraid to startle her.

for a long moment, paige just watched her. the soft curve of her cheek, the way her lashes rested against her eyelids, the steady, even rise and fall of her breathing.

then, in the quietest voice, paige whispered, “i just... i wish you knew how easy you are to love.”

for a second, she thought azzi was already asleep. but then she felt it— the faintest squeeze of her hand, a tiny shift closer under the blankets. not much, but enough to make paige’s heart catch in her throat.

the words hung between them, soft and fragile, but somehow safe here in the dark.

paige smiled to herself, barely, and let her thumb brush lightly over azzi’s knuckles. she stayed like that, twirling a loose curl around her finger, feeling the warmth of azzi’s hand in hers, until sleep finally pulled her under too.

practice wasn’t even over yet, but paige already knew she was doomed.

azzi was across the gym, stretching her quad on the sideline, her practice jersey clinging to her like it was designed specifically to make paige lose her mind. her head was tilted slightly to the side, her curly bun nearly coming loose, a small smile that lit up her face as she chatted with aubrey about who knows what. and god, paige couldn’t stop staring.

“you’re not even being subtle anymore,” caroline muttered beside her, arms crossed, leaning against the bleachers.

paige snapped her gaze away from azzi and tried to act normal, like she wasn’t internally combusting every time azzi moved. “i’m subtle,” she lied, but even she could hear the hesitation in her own voice.

“you’re obsessed,” caroline stated flatly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. she didn’t even look at paige when she said it, just kept her eyes trained on the court.

paige didn’t respond. because, yeah, maybe she was. especially lately. and especially after that night at azzi’s dorm. she’d been trying to play it cool, keep some distance, but the way azzi’s smile made her chest tighten, the way she looked at paige like she mattered— well, that made it impossible.

after noah left, things had shifted between them, but not in some big, dramatic way. not enough for anyone to notice, not enough for anyone to call it out. but it was there, every little moment that passed between them. it was in the way azzi laughed at her jokes, the way she casually touched her arm like it was nothing, the way she always seemed to look for paige in a room full of people. and god— paige wasn’t sure how much more of it she could take.

they were back in the locker room after practice, the buzz of conversation fading into the background. azzi was stretched out beside paige on the bench, her legs draped casually across paige’s lap like it was the most normal thing in the world. paige was trying her hardest not to hyperventilate. but how could she? azzi, being this close to her, her skin still warm from practice, the scent of her shampoo making paige’s head spin— yeah, she was definitely about to hyperventilate.

“you looked good today,” azzi said, voice soft, her focus still on her phone as her fingers tapped lazily over the screen.

paige blinked, caught off guard. “what?”

“on the court,” azzi finished, finally glancing over at paige with that small, private smile that made paige’s heart stutter. “your passing was sharp. you see the floor really well.”

paige couldn’t help it— she just stared at her. “you notice that stuff?”

azz shook her head slightly, a teasing glint in her eye. “i notice you.”

paige’s brain short-circuited. she didn’t even know how to respond to that. she just sat there, trying to stay composed but failing miserably. “you gotta stop saying shit like that,” she managed, her voice a little too high-pitched for her liking.

“why?” azzi tilted her head like it was the most casual thing in the world.

“because,” paige said, her face heating up, “i’m already obsessed with you.”

it was like the room went still, the air thickening with every word. the silence that followed was so heavy, paige could’ve sworn she could hear her own heartbeat pounding in her ears.

shit. did she really just say that out loud?

azzi’s brows lifted, eyes wide, and paige felt the world shift beneath her feet. “wait, i— i didn’t mean it like that, not like— okay, i did, but not in a creepy way, it’s just i— fuck—” paige’s brain was spinning, and the words were tripping over each other before she could even try to make sense of them.

then, azzi laughed. softly, breathily, but it was like the sweetest sound paige had ever heard, her chest tightening with the realization that it wasn’t awkward. at all. “you’re cute,” azzi said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. there was no teasing, no judgment— just that quiet, sweet smile.

paige turned so red she could feel the heat on her neck, on her ears, everywhere. she covered her face with her hands, making her best attempt to hide.

“stop,” paige mumbled into her hands, her voice muffled.

azz laughed again, this time with a little more amusement in her tone. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to make you embarrassed.”

paige snapped her head up, her eyes widening. “what— no! i’m not embarrassed.”

the quiet that followed, mixed with the closeness of azzi beside her, made her feel like her heart might actually explode. and want to die. definitely die.

azzi just smiled at her, small and knowing, like she could see straight through all the panic and nerves and was choosing to be gentle with them anyway.

paige stared at her for a second longer, her mind still scrambled, and then, without thinking, she nudged azzi’s shoulder lightly with her own.

“you’re annoying,” she muttered, mostly to cover up how much she meant all of it. azzi just giggled in return, soft and airy, and nudged her right back.

they sat there like that— shoulders brushing, smiles tugging at their mouths, the silence between them not heavy anymore, but light. easy. like maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something neither of them knew how to name yet.

paige felt herself breathe a little easier. for once, she didn’t feel like she had to run from it.

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #paige x azzi #pazzi #pazzi fics #uconn wbb

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gloomskulls · 5 months ago

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚LIMERENCE PT 2 [tasm!peter parker x reader]

pairings: tasm!peter parker x reader

part 1

⇢ ˗ˏˋ SUMMARY ୨୧ after finding the courage and the balls to ask you out, Peter couldn't help but test the waters.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ WARNING ୨୧ reader is drunk and drunk people cannot give consent), terribly written smut (i'm a virgin i'm sorry, I have no idea what goes on actually in the bed), oral (fem receiving), drinking, drunk reader, overstimulation, everyone is 18+ here lemme know if I missed any. MINORS DO NOT READ

If you don't want to see my dark stories in the future please block the tag #madi: dark content

A/n: I'm sorry this took a whole ass while, it's probs 90% story and 10% smut. Like it's probs shit, the smut's the reason why I couldn't finish this sooner because I had no idea where it was going. Also tried to write 2012 slang, idk if it even sounds right. don't steal any of the shit I've written or else I'm going to turn you into Victoria Heyes from terrifier ❤️🫶/srs

Peter shuffled in his sleep. Tossing and turning. Sleep never found him, how could it? He did something so unforgivable. Having an obsession with someone who barely acknowledges your existence is one thing, but sneaking into her house, completely crossing every single line, and then jerking off to the scent of your panties while imagining you on top of him, riding him as you creamed his cock with your cum.

The air felt heavy and there was an almost stifling silence in his small bedroom, while his mind worked in the manner of a broken machine, looping thoughts.

Every single thing about you — your laugh, the spark in your eyes when you spoke of something you loved, the way you uttered his name — his mind kept replaying like a broken record. Each one felt as fresh as if it had just taken place a moment ago, and each one pulled at something deep within his chest.

He had spent years arguing with himself about what he was doing. He told himself that viewing you from a distance was merely innocent fascination, a little crush. But that had been a lie. What he had done the night before, sneaking into your room was not a mistake; it was a deliberate decision.

Peter was filled with doubts, a regular person would call him lovesick, a creep even. Is she really worth it? Peter admits something he'd been avoiding for a while.

He wanted you.

Not as a classmate. Not as a partner for a stupid project. He wanted you in a way that was raw and desperate and consuming. Oh, he wanted you to look at him the way you look at the rest of the world with trust, with affection, with the same ease that made you laugh at his dumb jokes.

The realization hit him hard. The weight of it sank into his chest like a boulder, but there was a rush of something else too-something darker, more intoxicating.

Peter sat up abruptly, there's only one way or another, heart hammering as he snatched up his phone. Tapping out a quick message, he did so with trembling hands.

"Hey, u free 2nite? Was thinkin maybe we could finish the proj & grab dinner after. My treat. :)"

He stared at the screen, his thumb hovered over the send button. The fear crept back in, whispering in the back of his mind. What if she thought he was crazy? What if she rejected me outright? What if everything he'd built up in his head came crashing down?

Many thoughts crowded his mind, neither of them was good

As he stared at the text, his finger quivered. His stomach tightening in knots. The reply was already forming in his mind—would you say yes? Or perhaps he was weird for asking, for suggesting anything other than school?

But what if he didn't ask? What if he kept on pretending that this crush wasn't eating him up from the inside?

I've got to do this; he tried to steady his breath. This would never come again.

Deep breath and then Peter clicked "send."

Time seemed to stretch into eternity. His mind was racing, spinning out into the worst-case scenarios. You could just say no or even laugh it off and tell him it wasn't a good idea. It's a biology project, after all. That's what it was supposed to be—right?

That crumbled page of biology scraps lay on his desk as evidence of the project you both were working on. It was supposed to be a simple collaboration, probably will last for a few weeks if he was lucky, and then he'd just go back to being invisible to you.

But he didn't want to go back to being invisible.

He sat there at the edge of the bed, hunched over in an awkward position, his elbows rested on the stretched knees, and he stared his phone, convinced that at any moment it would leave his grip. He had typed the message, the own words glowing brighter as he waited.

He had redone it like at least a dozen times, but all versions felt way too casual to too formal. His current message was just right; friendly, innocent enough but still an invite.

What if you think it is strange? What if you don't even reply at all?

He shook his head to stabilize his breathing. It's alright, he told himself. His not asking for something crazy. It's only a dinner.

But it wasn't just a dinner. It was the convergence of years of quiet yearning, stolen glances, and missed opportunities. This was the first real step toward something more, if only he could find the courage to take it.

He shunned his phone flat on the bed thinking that might ease the tension in his chest, but it didn't. His heart raced as seconds ticked by on the clock, each second feeling like an eternally long wait.

What if you didn't reply?

What if you did?

His thoughts were interrupted abruptly as his phone buzzed.

He grabbed it with trembling hands.

"Sure! I'm totally in. Where r we meeting? 7?"

He read the message over and over again: You're saying yes. Relief was an actual weight that was just lifted as disbelief flooded him as he blinked at the screen, rereading the message to make sure it hadn't been imagined.

For a moment, he allowed himself to smile, but it quickly disappeared. Now that he got the answer, a different kind of panic struck.

What happens next?

"Yea 7’s cool, I’ll pick u up @ ur place"

He looked up at the clock-6:30. In thirty minutes, he needed to get ready. Thirty minutes within which he needed to figure out how not to screw this one up completely.

Peter fell out of his chair and quickly rifled through his closet for something fresh and unique that didn't look like it had just been thrown on five minutes ago. His room was strung out in a mess of hoodies and T-shirts that didn't do any good as he tried on piece after piece-each feeling wrong.

"Relax," he murmured at himself while gazing at his reflection in the mirror. Hi hair looked like he just crawled out from under the bed, his face was red, and no matter how many adjustments he attempted on the clothes, he still looked like the awkward kid he'd always been.

Peter raced around his pod-sized room in search of a shirt that didn't scream "high school loser." The bed was a battlefield littered with crumpled hoodies, a checkered flannel, even his Midtown Science Academy T-shirt.

"Peter?" Aunt May's curious sounding voice called out from the hallway.

"Yeah?" he shouted back while looking through his closet and listening.

"Why does it sound like a tornado hit your room? Are you okay in there?"

Peter groaned and threw another hoodie onto the pile he was amassing on the bed. "I'm fine!"

The creaky door slammed open a moment later, and Aunt May peeked her head in. Her sharp eyes traveled the disaster area that was his room, from the piles of clothes, and even down to the one sneaker he was wearing.

"Uh-huh. Fine." She crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. "What's all this about? A wardrobe crisis?"

He sighed at her and rubbed the back of his neck. "Nothing serious, okay? I just… I'm going out."

May raised an eyebrow as her lips twitched as if trying hard not to smile. "Going out? As in… on a date?"

"What? No!" Peter's voice shot up as he spun around, waving his hands. "It's not a date! It's just dinner. For a project. With a friend."

By now, she wasn't even trying to hide her grin. "A 'friend,' huh? Is this the same 'friend' you've been talking about nonstop since this biology project started?"

"I don't talk about her nonstop!" protested Peter, turning into a shade of tomato. "Oh, you definitely do," Uncle Ben countered from outside the hallway and into the room, sporting the knowing smirk of someone who has heard too much. "Half the time, it's, 'Oh, she's so smart,' and the other half is, 'She's so good at this lab thing.'" He said with a dreamy tone

"Okay, okay, so I get it!" he groaned while burying his face in his hands. "Can we not do this now?"

Ben laughed and slapped Peter on the shoulder. “Relax, kid. We are just teasing, and you've got this.”

May walked into the room and picked up one of the forgotten shirts from the bed. Holding it up, she said, "What is wrong with this? Nice but casual, not slobby."

Peter squinted at it. "It's too—I don't know; plain?"

"Plain is better than looking as if you are trying too hard," she said, tossing it to him.

Uncle Ben nodded sagely. "It's right." "You don't want to go full tuxedo on a first—uh, not a date," he added quickly, holding up his hands when Peter glared at him.

Peter huffed but pulled the shirt over his head anyway. "You two are the worst," he muttered, though his tone lacked any real bite.

May smiled and reached out, smoothing the collar of his shirt. "We are not the worst. We are just proud of you. It's good to see you putting yourself out there."

"I'm not—," Peter began, but Ben cut him off.

"You are," Ben said firmly. "That's a good thing. Just be yourself, Pete. If she's as great as you say she is, she'll see what we see, a smart, kind, slightly awkward but very lovable kid."

Peter's face burned. "Yea, you really know how to give a pep talk."

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?" Ben fired back with a grin.

May handed Peter his second sneaker. "Here. Don't forget this, unless you're planning to really impress her with your one-shoe look."

Peter rolled his eyes but could not quite hide the grin that crept onto his lips. "Thanks, Aunt May."

So Ben called after him as he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. "And remember, kid—Italian places usually give you breadsticks first. Don't fill up before the main course!"

Peter groaned loudly. "I'm going now! Bye!"

He was there, at your door, heart pounding heavily, as if wanting to burst out from the body. He lingered for a while, staring at the doorbell.

What if this is a mistake?

But before you could think otherwise, the button pressed his finger.

And then echoed the sound of the bell from inside, and Peter felt that the earth would open up and swallow him whole in an instance. He heard footsteps, and then the door opened.

There you were.

"Hey, Peter!" you said, smiling that effortless way that made his breath catch in his throat, stepping aside and gesturing for him to come in. "You're right on time, I just need a minute to grab my bag."

Peter managed a small smile and stepped in, wiping his sweaty palms against his jeans. "Yeah, of course. Take all the time you need."

You disappeared into another room, leaving Peter hanging awkwardly at your door, his eyes darting about. It was a very warm and inviting house, in harmony with the kind of person you were. The faint hum of a television in another room was muffled, someone talking, and he could hear that easily.

Your presence returned with your bag slung around your shoulder and you ignited the nerves again in Peter.

“So,” you said, smiling at him, “where to?”

Peter hesitated just a beat too long, his mind scrambling to come up with an answer. "Uh, I was thinking Italian? That okay with you?"

"Italian sounds great," you said easily as your smile widened.

Peter's heart raced as you stepped out the door, walking beside him toward the small restaurant a few blocks away. The night air was crisp, and for the first few minutes, he was too caught up in his own head to say much. But then you started talking, asking him about his day, about the project, and the sound of your voice eased some of his tension.

You made him feel like he belonged, even without having a word to say.

When the restaurant came in sight, Peter turned to you. Nerves still there but mixed with something else: a quiet and hopeful excitement.

Maybe just maybe, tonight will be the beginning of something real.

The walk to the restaurant was such a nerve-racking experience. Each step Peter Parker took beside you felt like a step closer to something he wasn't ready (or was actually hoping for). His hands buried deep in his jacket pockets, fingers curling and uncurling, while trying to keep steady pacing alongside you.

But you appeared to be at full ease. You talked about the cool evening, how the trees' leaves were beginning to rustle with the cold wind blowing, and even the faint smell of roasting chestnuts from a street vendor a few blocks away. Peter heard everything, nodded, and punctuated things now and then with the occasional "Yeah" or "Totally," but as for his thoughts, they were running wild within him.

This is well. This is the standard. This is alright, He didn't over hypothesize for the hundredth time.

As much as there was relief in now having something solid to focus on, Peter was panicked that it all became real at that moment.

He opened the door for you, his hand trembling slightly as he held it.

"Thanks," you said, giving him a swift smile before stepping inside.

"Uh, yeah. Of course," Peter mumbled as he hung his head and followed you in.

The hostess took you to a corner besides the glass window, a cozy little spot with a flickering candle in the middle of the table. Peter's hands trembled as he took the chair and gestured you to sit on it.

The menu in front of him could be in another language as he stared dumbly at it, words bringing into a blur while the thoughts buzzing in his head were getting harder to put to rest.

Don't be weird. Just be normal. What does "normal" even mean? Stop overthinking! You've got this!

"This place is nice," you commented as you scanned the menu. "How did you discover it?"

"Oh, um, my aunt used to like it here," Peter said, grateful he could answer such a question. "She says the lasagna is the best."

You grinned. "Aunt May has good taste. I will try that."

He nodded, yes, but could not stop the rush of nervous thoughts flooding his mind. He glanced at the menu as if studying it although he already knew what he would order. But his mind was instead filled with every possible thing he could screw up tonight.

Don't talk too much; don't laugh strangely; don't look like an idiot.

Here came the waiter, and you ordered effortlessly, laced with a polite smile as you handed him the menu. Peter stammered out his order and felt his palms sweat as he gave it. When the waiter walked away, Peter could feel your eyes on him, and it took everything he had to meet your gaze.

"So," you said, leaning in with elbows planted on the table, chin cradled in palm, "what's your thing, Peter?"

"My thing?" he said, taken aback. "Like, my thing?"

"Yeah, like… what do you do for fun? What are you really into doing when absolutely no one else is watching and judging?"

Peter blinked, trying to think of something that wouldn't sound lame. "Uh, well, I like photography," he said. "And science, I guess. Experiments, stuff like that."

You perked up. "Photography? That is cool. What kind of pictures do you take?"

"Mostly city stuff," he said, his voice gaining a bit of confidence. "You know, like weird angles, shadows, reflections. It's probably not that interesting to most people."

"I think it sounds interesting," you said. "I would love to see your pictures sometime."

Peter's heart was pounding so hard. "Really? Uh, yeah, sure. I mean, if you want."

That made the conversation flow more easily. You told him about your love-hate relationship with math, how sometimes you spent too long procrastinating by watching cooking shows instead of doing your homework, and how one time you tried to make crème brûlée and almost burned your stove.

“I had to open every window in the house,” you said, laughing. “My mom came home and thought I’d burned dinner. I didn’t tell her it was supposed to be dessert.”

Peter grinned, feeling just a little bit more at ease. “Maybe stick to cookies next time, huh?”

“Noted,” you said with a mock-serious nod.

Then it was time to eat. You both started digging into it while still keeping up your conversation. Peter quickly found himself becoming much more relaxed, finding it absolutely easy to talk to you when he didn't over-analyze every word. You burst into laughter each time his jokes finished, and whenever his eye fell into yours, everything around faded.

There was little doubt that he was doing this because he was desperate enough to strike a topic that wouldn't make him sound like an idiot; this was the reason why he asked, "You, uh, good with the whole project?"

You leaned back, fiddled with the napkin on the table, and said, "Yeah, it's actually been fun. Well, I mean, we work well together, and you're much smarter than I had thought."

Peter blinked. "Wait, you thought I wasn't smart?"

"No, I just-" You smirk, it's clear you're enjoying his reaction. "You always seem kinda… busy with stuff, you know? You're not exactly the loudest guy in the room."

"Well, I, uh…" Peter rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I'm, uh, more of a behind-the-scenes guy. You know, less talk, more… action?"

You laughed, the sound light and easy, and Peter felt himself get a little more relaxed. Maybe you weren't judging him.

'This place have wine?' you ask all of a sudden, not looking up from the menu.

Peter blinked. "Uh… I think so?"

You smirked and put your feet up on the table after throwing the menu on it. "Perfect. I could use a glass."

Peter was at a loss on how he should respond. It just didn't seem like the kind of person who would order wine to go with dinner-at least, not in his limited and admittedly romanticized view of you. But when the waiter came by, you ordered an entire bottle without hesitating, barely glancing at Peter for confirmation.

"Um, yeah, sounds good," Peter said weakly, even though the thought of drinking anything stronger than soda made him nervous.

The waiter nodded and disappeared, leaving the two of you alone in an awkward silence.

But the waiter was back again, this time with a bottle and two glasses, which he laid down with a polite smile. And before you knew it, the deep red liquid was already swirling around in your glass because you had poured it in haste from the bottle.

Want some? You asked, already halfway through your first sip.

“Uh, maybe later,” Peter said.

You shrugged and took another long drink before putting the glass down with a satisfied sigh. “Suit yourself.”

The most casual kind of conversation developed between you: you asked Peter about what he was interested in, and he managed to stumble along throwing together great lengthy descriptions about why he loved photography and science, and the words came out too fast for him to think them. It almost seemed like you were listening to him, however, because he went on to nod before even asking follow-up questions, which made him for the first time in a long time feel that he wasn't entirely invisible.

By that time, he was becoming aware, as the hours slipped away, that you were filling up your glass more and more often. The bottle was now half empty when the food came, and you were already sporting rosy cheeks when the alcohol was pouring into your system.

“This is good,” you said, hardly bothering with your plate in order to gesture with your fork at it. "I mean, really good. Good call, Parker.”

The smile that appeared on Peter's face was that of nervousness. "Thanks. I'm glad you like it."

Now you leaned back in your seat, holding your glass up to the light. "You know, I don't really do stuff like this. I've kind of never had dinner with classmates. It's just a little… weird, you know?"

Peter sank a little. "Weird, how?"

"Not bad weird," you said immediately by waving your hand. "Just… different. Like, generally, I would just be at home watching some lousy reality show and trying to forget how much homework I have to do."

Peter chuckled, even though he had no idea what to say next.

After a sip of wine, the boy looked up at Peter who immediately landed his gaze upon the bottle. You seem well into your first glass with a heightening sense of ease that you appeared to be at his home. Maybe it was because of the wine or perhaps how you were looking at him right now-not with judging spectatorship but with a strange kind of understanding that made him feel as if he were not really out of place.

It was only a count of seconds before the food arrived while you already had a second glass in hand. Peter's stomach flipped at that moment. This wasn't the way he was used to seeing you, all loosened up and speaking without that slight guard he usually saw when you were around. You appeared different tonight, and Peter couldn't quite figure it out if it was a good thing or not.

However, the conversation was still going on, only that as soon as you took a few more drinks, conversations shifted to more profound, much more personal things. Laughter spilled from your lips more freely, although Peter saw that smiles were now somewhat uncontrollable. Maybe it was the wine; maybe it was just the ambience. In any case, he could feel something shifting, like you were letting him see this version of yourself you weren't sure he was supposed to see.

"Peter", you said, looking at him with wide eyes after a long sip. "What's your big dream? Like 20 years from now, what do you see yourself doing?"

He shifted around uneasily on his chair. And that question was sudden, a little more intense than he would have reckoned it to be. He was not used to being asked about his future like this.

"Honestly?" said Peter, leaning back a little and looking down at the half-finished plate in front of him. "I don't really know. I think- I think I want to do something with science, or photography. Maybe combine. Don't know really. Just like, I want to fix things, you know? Help make the world a little less broken.''

You were quiet for a moment, and Peter wasn't sure whether it was because he'd said something wrong or whether you were just thinking. But when you finally spoke, your voice was softer, almost quieter than before.

"I think that's really admirable, Peter."

That was it. That one simple sentence hit him harder than he expected. He wasn't used to compliments like that- not from you, not from anyone. The words were a strange dream, and for a second he just looked dumbfoundedly at you trying to really understand what you mean.

Peter had never imagined the night to go this way. Not even in a million years. But here he was, walking alongside you, swaying slightly on the sidewalk with less steadiness in your step than before. Surprisingly, the wine had hit you faster than he figured, and he wasn't so sure if he should be concerned or just chalk it up to the kind of night it had turned into.

"Hey, I'm-" You hiccupped, laughing lightly at your own clumsiness. "I'm fine, Peter. Really."

But Peter wasn't so sure. His instincts were whipping him into overdrive-the same ones that always made him want to leap into action when something was amiss. "Yeah, I don't think you are," he said, trying to keep it light. "Let me just walk you home, okay? Just to make sure you're good."

But you rolled your eyes, with an almost sheepish smile you gave in, "Fine, fine. I get it. You're worried about me."

"Yeah, I am," Peter said, his voice a little quieter than he intended. "But you're my responsibility right now, okay?"

You exhale a small laugh, and Peter can't help but take note of how completely giddy it sounded, a little like you weren't quite sure where you were or what you were doing. You leaned against him, and then Peter was surprised at how easily you let him help you with that.

The way home was otherwise silent except for the occasional trip and the muttered apologies from you. But Peter didn't mind it, sensing closeness, although strange. Everything was just weird tonight. The brushing of your hand against his as you reached for your keys. That laugh of yours that wouldn't leave his ears. The vulnerability you seemed to wear in your eyes at that moment.

So, then you reached your door, and you suddenly stopped and stood there, fumbling with the keys in your hand. Peter moved closer but silently offered to help. You shook your head.

"I've got this," you said, though your words were slurring just enough for Peter to catch the uncertainty behind them.

After much effort on your part, the door finally opened. You leaned in again, and Peter nearly lost his heart as he had to rush forward to steady you.

"Whoa, take it easy," Peter said catching you as you stumbled. "Let me help you."

You smiled up at him, glassy and unfocused. "I'm fine, Peter," you slurred. "Just a little…tipsy."

Peter chuckled and guided you up the walkway to your front door. "Tipsy, huh? Well, let's get you inside and safe, then."

As you both reached the front door, you fumbled with your keys and Peter had to gently take them from your hand and unlock the door himself. You smiled up at him, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

After some time and a couple of tries, she got the door opened.

"Okay, inside," he said, his tone a little more powerful now. You did not resist him as he helped you through the door, but there was a strange sadness in your eyes that twisted Peter's stomach.

You moved slowly to the couch and finally sank down on it; the wine was exhausting. Peter stood near the door for a moment, wondering his next move. He wanted to shoot his shot, his thoughts wandered to somethings more inappropriate. Wasn't this all about getting you safe? Ensuring you did not end up passed out somewhere in a big, messy pile of sheets and regrets.

"Can you just… stay for a bit?" you asked quietly, with barely a whisper.

Peter hesitated. He didn't want to go too far, and he couldn't just leave you here, not looking so…fragile.

"Yes," he spoke softly, entering then into the living room. "I'll stay for a bit"

You nodded at him, gazing at him with tired eyes. "Thank you."

Peter perched on the edge of the couch; his hands awkwardly balanced on his knees. What a strange space there was between you two now, strange in that it was so very close, yet so far away. He wanted to be of some use and ensure you were okay, and yet the way the glance kept coming from you in that direction somehow felt… off. It was like walking on a fine line.

Peter looked at you longingly, you were so beautiful.

Too close and too perfect, he found himself sitting next to you, and Peter felt the pressure of so many things left uncommunicated fill his chest. He needed to do it. He needed to say it.

"Peter?" Your voice was a soft whisper, a little uncertain. Wine had aided this whole relaxing process, yet made almost everything feel slightly out of focus.

Peter swallowed, heart pounding in the chest. He wasn't entirely sure if it was the alcohol that has found narrate in your system, or if it was the raw honesty of the moment, but he knew very well it was now or never, the one chance to say all he had kept bottled up for months.

"Yeah?" he whispered, getting closer so that he was almost against you now.

"It's just that, I… I'm sorry if I've been too much tonight," you said, your words slightly slurring as you allowed your gaze to drift over his face. "I didn't mean to get that drunk."

Peter felt his breath hitch in his throat. "It's fine," he said, his voice softer now. He could feel his palms sweating, his heart racing faster than ever. "I just… I just want to make sure you're okay."

You smiled up at him, but it was a little foggy, and Peter could tell that the wine had dulled your clarity. Still, you were so beautiful, standing there, looking at him with those eyes—eyes that made him feel like he mattered.

Peter took a sharp breath and let a sudden breath of air come out. It was as if a magnet was pulling them together, and he was drawn to it. "So, uh– I was thinking…" He hesitated for a moment, then recovered his composure, trying to calm the trembling in his hands. "I've been thinking about you for a long time. Like, longer than I should have."

His brows knitted further in confusion as Peter quickly realized that the rest of the sentence was failing miserably in getting through your mind, as if the actual words were swimming around in it, suspended in fog. He stepped closer, unable to stop himself.

"If I—" He let out a shaky breath. "You know, I've been loving you for so long now. And tonight, I couldn't hold it anymore and just… broke the dam."

Your expression shifted slightly. Confusion clouded your gaze. You blinked, trying to piece together his words. "Wait, what?"

Peter took a step closer, completely incapable of holding himself back. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, and he felt the heat between you intensify. He reached out, his hand brushing gently against your arm. "I love you," he whispered again, barely able to breathe. "I love you so much, and I've been too scared to say it. I've watched you for so long, and I—" Peter stopped mid-sentence as he looked at you, eyes looking like a lost puppy.

"You're so beautiful, so so beautiful" He leaned in, your face was so close to him, his lips brushed against yours. He held your face as he licked your lips.

You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin with just the proximity of Peter's face to yours, and the goosebumps it sent down your spine. Those eyes were filled deeply with a longing expression and captured yours as if drowning you in its depths. There was air that quite vibrated between the two of you, and the heat that seemed to take form could even be felt emanating from his body.

"I wanted to do that for so long," Peter whispered. His voice shuddered with desire. Gentle words falling like a caress to send shivers through you: "Wanted to touch you, hold you, kiss."

His lips brushed against yours when he spoke, making your body spark with electricity. You were pretty much melting into him, as if his very desire were consuming your human body. His lips, soft and gentle, just as firm and insistent. You tasted like wine.

"You're so beautiful" he said as his hands went underneath your dress, his hands inching close to your under garments. He touched your clothed core; he used his index finger to rub your clothed cover clit

You squirmed in his touch, "P-peter" You mewled in his mouth

This just seemed to fuel Peter even more, as he set aside your panties as his smooth fingers rubbed your now exposed core. Peter looked at you, he slowly kneeled as he spread your legs.

He looked at your wet core, as if it was a painting that he couldn't understand. Without warning he then sucked your glistening pearl; his tongue probed the inside of your gummy walls as his fingers rubbed your pearl. You cried out, your body arching up to meet him, and Peter felt a surge of excitement. He was in control now, and you were at his mercy.

He knew it was wrong, you were drunk after all, but he couldn't help it, this was his only chance.

He licked and sucked at your clit, his fingers plunging in and out of your dripping wet pussy, you cried out in ecstasy, your hands tugging at Peter's hair. But he didn't care, all he cared about was your dripping we cunt.

Anticipation dwells in the coiling mouth against your body, sending shivers along your spine. Every inch of you is lulled into stimulation by his gentle probing, drawing near to a soon-to-be-hidden insistent demand. You can feel that hot air glazing across your skin, soft scraping with teeth, and relentless pressure from his lips, all of which accompanies his tongue.

Your hands are clenched while he works, fingers digging into the sheets or perhaps his hair, holding him there. Your hips jerk primitively, as though to push him deeper and encourage more pressure, while your breathing makes raspy sounds mixed with soft mewls of pleasure.

One hand is busy at your hips, molding you solidly into place, while the other slips only up over the curve of your waist before settling over your breast.

You feel yourself immersing in the sensation as your focus is honed into one. The only critical thing is the feeling of his mouth on you. The whole room begins to fade away, and you're left with only the slushing wet sounds he makes and your breathless gasps, groans, and cries.

Peter on the other hand felt like he was in cloud nine, his mouth was now fully covered in your arousal, but he didn't care. He continued lapping at your cunt, accompanied with his middle finger thrusting in and out of you.

As the intensity rises, so do your frantic movements: the hips jerk and thrust as though reaching toward some ill-defined height. His mouth is a scythe-like blur of tongue lashing and probing until the pressure builds and you're all quivering trembling muscles, precariously balanced on a knife edge of release.

Your mouth is wide open, frozen in a silent scream on your lips, and your entire body starts quivering at the moment of release.

Then silence engulfs the outside world; its only inhabitants are trapped in a silent world of raw lust. His mouth is a furnace, raging, and threatening to engulf you completely, but you lean into the flames, thirsty for the intense heat that only he can provide. Your skin is slick with sweat, your heart thundering like a runaway train as your body builds toward the inevitable climax.

Your cries intensify as tension rises, a mournful cry into this frantic air, a scream savage, echoing off the walls as your body strains towards that release. Your muscles quivering.

Before you knew it, it almost hit you like rough wave of pleasure.

His cock twitched, his balls tightening with anticipation, as he felt the warmth of her your release in his mouth. That alone could make him cum his pants. He had never been this close to a woman before, and the thought of exploring your body was almost too much to bear. And here he was doing exactly just that.

You were beautiful to Peter, but you looked ungodly when you were in a state of release. The way your chest would heave up and down, how your mascara was running down your eyes, and your lipstick smudged on the side of your face.

"You're so beautiful" he said, barely even above a whisper.

"P-peter— OH MY GOD!"

He suddenly took a long slow stripe of your pussy, as if savoring everything, but then stopped when his tongue reached your clit. He sucked on your little pearl as if it was lollipop.

You moaned loudly as your back arched and your toes curled, "P-peter" You whimpered

The way he was sucking on your clit, along with his fingers that was thrusting deep inside you. It made it nearly unbearable. The last few moments or so almost sent you spiraling into one of those severe orgasms that made you see stars on your ceiling.

Loud moans slipped from your mouth, you wondered if your parents were at home, what if they see their sweet girl falling apart underneath the so-called weird kid of your school.

Your hips bucked against his mouth, trying to ease the bittersweet pleasure he was giving you. "P-peter, oh god, stop, I c-can't take it anymore" you begged in a voice very nearly a whisper. Body trembling, your hands reached instinctively for his hair, holding him.

He continued his performance on your clit. A familiar knot kept building inside you. Suddenly, the moans turned into loud gasps, and your body began to shake uncontrollably. P-peter, I…I think I'm going to come again" you finally whisper. To that, he only sucked harder, licked harder, his fingers falling on a rhythm with his tongue swirling relentlessly on your sensitive spot, bringing you to sweet agony. Your back arched up, you gasp while screaming, "P-PETER!"

Heaving and shaking with each pulsing moan, you lay there with your body's hypersensitivity after such intense pleasure receding. Finally, Peter raised his head. That satisfied smile on his face was testimony to your ability to elicit such feelings from him. And with his eyes, he stared at you, every flicker of lust speaking volumes about what was crossing his mind. Then he kissed near the center of time in your inner thigh, his lips dragging softly, and then moving to lie with you at the side of the couch

Peter's smile slowly faded as he noticed your catch of breath, replaced with a show of real concern. He stroked your hair as he gazed into your eyes. "That was intense," Peter said. "You're shaking." His voice was tender, wrapping around you like a soft blanket. "Time to get you to bed, all right?"

He managed a slowly rise from the couch while extending his hand forward towards you. You grasped onto it and found your balance shaky; nonetheless, Peter assisted you toward leaving the living room, down the hallway, and into your bedroom.

Peter opened your door slowly, revealing the bedroom from that night. Snap out of your thoughts Parker!

The bedside lamp cast a warm glow over the room. Peter placed you carefully at the edge of the bed. He knelt down to remove your shoes and started undressing you slowly and carefully. He threw the covers over you as you laid back in bed, tucking you in like a young child.

"Rest," he whispered as he brushed his lips against your forehead. "Sleep, I'll be here when you wake." He sat beside you, stroking your hair with his hand. Your eyelids began to feel heavier, and weariness, along with all the forms of pleasure, finally overtook you. Peter was the last person you remember as you slipped into slumber, where upon you felt the warmth beside you that offered the source of a much-needed sense of safety.

@gloomskulls 2024, DON'T COPY, TRANSLATE OR USE OF MY WORKS IN ANY OTHER WEBSITE. Photos don't belong to me

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aethelwyneleigh27 · 1 year ago

Text

Baby fever Scenarios and Headcanons with Husband!Simon "Ghost" Riley (Ghostie)

Thank my baby godson for this one, if it hadn't been for him having me take care of him for the whole day then I wouldn't have anything to write because as of now I have no motivation or ideas to continue my past wips. Render credits are all to the lovely @ave661 who keeps feeding us. My little godson still sleeping on my chest, drool, snore and all as I'm writing this. I can't move, please send help. This is so short too, sorry to disappoint you guys 😭

Y'all CANNOT tell me I'm the only one who thinks of Simon "Ghost" Riley having baby fever from his own children (I would give him more, all he needs to do is ask 😭). Also these are basically moments of Simon with Ghostie, just a bit more general in terms of the baby's gender since some of y'all want boy!dad Simon but originally Ghostie is a girl.

My CoD Masterlist

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @thesnowurzikdjinn @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @cutenote @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @trepaika @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld

❥ Babyfever!Dad!Simon who loves to toss the baby up in the air, simply just for amusement and both of them needed entertainment. Safe to say Soap never did that until the little one was a lot older because when he did it, he ended up with a glob of drool on his face.

❥ Babyfever!Dad!Simon who is always so vocal with his baby, you could just tell the influence of him talking to the baby. Just the rumble of his voice sends the tiny one into a fit of giggles while they're on his chest.

❥ Babyfever!Dad!Simon who was influenced by you to do that viral thing on the internet, people throwing a slice of cheese on their crying baby to make them stop. It worked and they ate it.. now he keeps the fridge stocked with sliced cheese for that reason.

❥ Babyfever!Husband!Simon who was determined to assemble everything, baby's crib, the car seat.. though the bottle sterilizer was something he needed your help with. Both of you trying to figure where the missing piece went only to find your little one chewing on it.

❥ Babyfever!Dad!Simon who comes home late at night yet his little one follows him like a mother duck, as much as he wants to, Simon refused to have contact until he's out and squeaky clean from a shower. Always worrying about how they might catch something from outside while the little one is directly outside the bathroom door waiting for their dad and peeking from the little space underneath the door, knocking every 3 minutes for dada to come out.

❥ Babyfever!Dad!Simon who has the time of his life teaching the baby CPR, it started as a joke between the 141 and now your baby knows the word and knows what to do in response to it, the bunny stuffie is the one receiving the medical attention with the little crisp giggle after Simon praises them.

❥ Babyfever!Dad!Simon who you find laughing his ass off at Soap who was forced by the puppy eyes of your little one to wear a pink tutu that was on the verge of breaking from his size, glittered fairy wings that were made of wire and horrid quality of pink mesh fabric, a plastic tiara and a light up fairy wand. They forced him to do ballet. (Gaz definitely had that as his phone's wallpaper for a month)

❥ Babyfever!Dad!Simon who love cherishing little moments of how the world reminds him of how naive, dumb and gullible his little one could be. Having a leash kid yet for a completely different reason from misbehaving and being too hyperactive. Walking on a bridge with him over a river as a little family outing at the park when your little one pointed at the aggressive stream of water underneath, Simon jokingly asking them if they want to be tossed in and without a word they turn to you with their arms up and wiggling for uppies. When that didn't work they turned to their dad doing the same thing, making Simon chuckle so much that he almost coughed as they slowly let their arms drape back down to their sides, little pout in disappointment. You playfully glared at your husband, having to explain to a toddler why they can't swim in a strong stream of dirty water.

❥ Babyfever!Dad!Simon who is very much amused about how the baby likes his stuble, hoping he won't cause a rash to them because of how much they press their face into his. He makes sure it's extremely well kept after the very first time it happened 😭.

❥ Babyfever!Dad!Simon who loves seeing his toddler in their sleep shirt which is basically just his shirt drooping on the floor because it's too big for them but the they're chunky enough to keep it on themselves. Just thinking of Simon hearing the loud stomps of footsteps approving their bedroom, the short pause of silence before the frantic sound of the door knob jingling, he always knew who was about to enter the room. Holding their bunny stuffie while pulling on the blanket of their dad's side of the bed to ask him for help to climb up.

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bambieyedoll · 1 month ago

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⋆·˚ ༘ * LEAH CLEARWATER HEADCANONS 𐚁̸.ᐟ

𐙚 you’re seth’s best friend

the first time leah sees you again after a while, she’s already annoyed.

seth is bringing you along to the bonfire, and all she hears is, “you remember my best friend, right?” followed by some over-the-top praise about how fun you are, how easygoing, how cool.

leah rolls her eyes. she already knows what to expect: loud, talkative, too nice. seth has a type, and it’s “people who treat life like a summer camp activity.”

but then you show up, and everything changes.

you come walking down the path, hair windblown, wearing mismatched socks and laughing at something dumb seth said—and leah’s wolf just… snaps into place.

her chest seizes. her breath leaves her lungs. and suddenly, the entire world blurs except for you.

she’s never felt anything like it before. it’s not just attraction—it’s gravity. like the pull of the moon on the tides. like her soul finally stopped searching.

she blinks. forces herself to breathe. then promptly turns and walks in the opposite direction.

“no. nope. not happening,” she mutters under her breath, heart racing like a war drum.

for the next week, leah avoids you like the plague.

you don’t notice at first. you’re too busy catching up with seth, making jokes, running errands, hanging out at emily’s.

but slowly, you start picking up on it—the way leah always leaves the room a second after you enter it, or the way she only answers your questions with one-word grunts.

“did i do something to offend her?” you ask seth, half-joking, but there’s a flicker of real concern in your eyes.

seth just laughs. “that’s just how she is with new people.”

leah hears that from the other room and wants to scream: you’re not new. you’re everything.

but god, you make it hard for her to keep her distance.

because you’re funny. not in the loud, obnoxious way she expected, but sharp and observant and quietly witty.

you match her sarcasm with a smirk and call her out when she’s being a jerk—without ever being mean.

you’re kind, but not naive. you give people second chances, but you don’t let anyone walk all over you.

and worst of all? you’re good with seth. better than anyone.

you’re the only one who can keep up with him, ground him, talk him out of his impulsive ideas without dimming his spirit.

leah watches you two and feels… envious.

not because you’re taking her brother away—but because she wants to be the one you laugh with like that. wants to be the person you lean into when you’re tired. wants to be the reason you smile.

and it kills her.

watching you and seth wrestle in the yard? torture. watching you playfully elbow embry or snort at one of quil’s dumb jokes? agony.

the actual end of days is watching you talk about some guy you almost dated in school while laughing like it’s nothing.

leah’s not subtle, but she tries to be.

she’ll nudge you away from the fire at bonfires when you get too close. she’ll toss you her hoodie without a word if you’re shivering. but the second seth’s around, she snaps back into her cold shoulder routine like it’s armor.

you don’t get why she’s so hot and cold. seth definitely notices.

“she’s so weird around you. one second she’s grumpy, the next she’s practically growling when some guy flirts with you.”

you brush it off. “maybe she just doesn’t like me?”

“okay, yeah” seth scoffs. “and i’m a vampire.”

leah starts slipping, though—little by little.

like the time you showed up late to a pack dinner, hair damp from the rain, cheeks flushed, and she instinctively reached out to tuck a wet strand behind your ear.

the second her fingers brushed your skin, she froze, then yanked her hand back like she’d touched fire.

“sorry,” she mumbled, looking away. “didn’t mean to.”

“it’s okay,” you said with a soft smile. “you can touch me, leah. i don’t bite.”

she choked on her drink and glared at you while you laughed into your sleeve.

and then there was the night you fell asleep on her shoulder during a movie at emily’s house.

leah had been sitting there, arms crossed, trying not to look like she was watching you more than the screen.

you were curled up in a blanket, warm and sleepy from the firelight, and sometime during the slow part of the movie, your head tilted against her shoulder.

she stiffened. every muscle in her body screamed don’t move.

you murmured something incoherent in your sleep and snuggled closer.

and leah—leah, who hadn’t let herself feel anything soft in years—closed her eyes and let herself lean just barely into you. just for a minute.

she didn’t breathe the whole time.

her yearning comes out as annoyance.

“do you have to wear those ridiculous socks?”

“you’re going to fall off that log if you keep dancing on it like a lunatic.”

“why are you always smiling?”

but every complaint is followed by her eyes trailing after you when you leave the room. by her shoulders softening when you speak. by her lingering near, even if she won’t sit beside you.

you notice it. you just don’t understand it.

you think leah hates you—until one day, you catch her staring at you like the sun came out just for her.

“what?” you ask, blinking.

“nothing,” she says too quickly. “you just… look stupid with that much whipped cream on your hot chocolate.”

(she thinks you look beautiful. she’s memorizing the way your nose crinkles when you laugh.)

you get her to open up without even realizing you’re doing it.

you ask her about her favorite music, and she shrugs, but the next day, you bring her earbuds and your playlist.

“just in case you ever wanna escape seth’s terrible taste.”

she listens to it every night before bed.

you ask her what she was like before the pack, and she changes the subject.

so you tell her your childhood stories—embarrassing ones, sweet ones—and leave the door open.

one day, she walks through it, shyly offering a memory of a time she used to sneak into the woods to write in her notebook, before everything changed.

“i bet you were a great writer,” you say, voice soft.

leah doesn’t respond, but her cheeks are pink, and her heart is racing.

the moment seth noticed— seriously noticed. he couldn’t believe his eyes.

the three of you were sprawled out in the backyard of the clearwaters’ place—sun warming the patchy grass, a bowl of half-eaten chips between you and seth, laughter bubbling from your throat as you recounted a ridiculous story about school.

seth was too busy laughing, throwing in sarcastic commentary, nudging your shoulder like always.

but when he cracked a joke that made you throw your head back and laugh—loud, carefree, eyes squinting in the sunlight—he saw it.

leah melted.

it was barely a flicker. her eyes softened, her mouth twitched like she was fighting a smile, her whole body shifted. it wasn’t dramatic. it was subtle, the kind of thing you’d miss if you weren’t paying attention.

but seth knew his sister.

and that look? that was the look of someone falling off a cliff and not even trying to catch themselves.

he blinked, thrown. then he did a double take.

you didn’t notice anything strange. you just smiled and went back to teasing seth.

but seth? his blood ran cold.

he watched leah for the next five minutes. every time you laughed, her jaw clenched. every time you leaned close to grab a chip or bump shoulders with him, her body tensed like she wanted to shove you away from the world.

and when you offered her the bowl with that soft grin—“want some?”—and she reached out with slightly shaking fingers to take it, avoiding your gaze entirely?

that was the final straw.

seth stood abruptly, brushing crumbs from his jeans. “be right back,” he muttered, heading into the house.

leah followed a moment later, as if on cue.

he didn’t even wait for the door to close before turning on her in the kitchen.

“you imprinted on her.”

leah froze.

her back was to him, but seth didn’t need to see her face. her silence was confirmation enough.

“jesus, leah,” he whispered. “it’s y/n. she’s—she’s my best friend.”

she still didn’t turn.

he stepped closer, heart racing. “when?”

leah swallowed. “three weeks ago.”

“three—what? are you serious?”

she finally faced him, eyes hard but shining. “i didn’t tell you because i didn’t want you to freak out.”

“well, i’m freaking out now!”

“i didn’t ask for this, seth!” she snapped, her voice cracking. “do you think i wanted this to happen? after—?” she stopped herself from saying too much.

silence fell like a weight.

he pressed a hand to his face, trying to think. “does she know?”

leah shook her head. “no. and i’m not going to tell her.”

he stared. “why the hell not?”

“because she deserves someone better than this. than me.”

seth scoffed. “oh come on, don’t give me the tragic antihero speech. you’re not broken, leah.”

she didn’t respond. she just turned away again, jaw tight.

seth leaned against the counter, breathing out a shaky sigh. “you’re really in love with her.”

“yeah,” leah said quietly. “i am.”

she looked down, but seth reached out and tugged her into a one-armed hug. “you deserve to be happy, leah.” he whispered.

leah didn’t move for a long moment. then she finally leaned into the hug, hiding her face in his shoulder like she used to when they were kids and their world was simpler.

“don’t mess it up,” seth said, trying to sound stern, but his voice cracked at the end.

she huffed a shaky laugh. “i probably will.”

he smiled. “then i’ll help you fix it.” seth sent her a knowing look after breaking the hug. “lucky for you, i can be a really good matchmaker.”

leah frowned. “oh god”

suddenly seth is always around when you and leah are in the same room. not because he’s trying to keep you apart, but because he thinks leah will panic and say something to ruin it.

“don’t push her,” seth warns. “she’s really freaked out. she’s never cared about someone this much before.”

you blink. “she… cares about me?”

seth turns red. “i didn’t say that. you didn’t hear that. i’m leaving now.”

but you start noticing it.

one day, you trip on a root during a hike and scrape your knee, and leah is suddenly on the ground beside you. “it’s nothing,” you laugh, brushing it off.

“it’s not nothing,” she snaps, voice sharp. but her hands are careful, feather-light as she cleans the cut with water from her canteen, lips pressed into a thin line the entire time.

it creeps in. it’s not a moment—it’s a slow ache. you catch yourself scanning a room for her without realizing it. you hear her laugh in the other room and your chest tightens. not in a painful way. in a terrifying one.

you start noticing how much calmer you feel around her. not safe in the passive, neutral way. safe in the held way. like she’d burn the world down if it ever tried to hurt you.

you try to convince yourself it’s a crush. a phase. something temporary. but then you imagine her with someone else, and it makes your stomach twist so hard you have to sit down.

one night, you’re both sitting outside, wrapped in silence. the moon’s bright. she looks over at you and says, “you always look at the sky like it’s telling you secrets.”

you smile. “maybe it is.”

then she goes completely still. you catch her watching you in that same, unreadable way again—like you’re something she doesn’t think she’s allowed to want.

and that’s when it hits you.

she’s in love with you.

and god help you, you’re in love with her too.

but you don’t say anything. not yet. because suddenly there’s something fragile in the air between you—like if you moved too fast, it might all shatter.

and maybe you’re not ready to lose her.

not when you’ve just realized what she means to you.

the unspoken truth doesn’t last much— it all shatters one night.

you hadn’t meant to be out so late. the woods were familiar—safe, even—with seth always reassuring you that with the pack nearby, no one would ever dare mess with you.

but tonight, the shadows felt heavier. the silence felt wrong.

and then… he came out of nowhere.

a man. tall, sneering, breath thick with beer. you hadn’t seen his face before, but the threat in his voice was unmistakable.

he grabbed your wrist when you tried to run, shoving you hard into the base of a tree, your head cracking against bark and moss.

your scream died in your throat when you saw the glint of something in his hand—metal. a knife, maybe. you couldn’t breathe.

and then the trees exploded.

a blur of muscle and fur tore through the undergrowth like lightning—a wolf—all smoke-gray and rage, eyes burning gold in the moonlight.

the sound that came from her throat wasn’t just a snarl; it was a roar, primal and gut-wrenching.

the man didn’t stand a chance.

he was gone before you even registered what was happening—just screams, blood, and the thunder of paws slamming into the ground.

you collapsed to your knees, heart pounding so hard you thought it might give out, staring at the giant wolf as she stood over you, heaving, pacing in erratic circles like she didn’t know what to do with herself.

it was leah.

you knew it by the eyes—wide with panic. frantic. terrified.

and it hit you, then, that she wasn’t just angry.

she was scared.

she whined low in her throat, getting close enough to nudge your shoulder with her snout, then recoiling like she couldn’t trust herself not to break you if she got too close. she kept pacing, fur bristling, tail lashing like a storm behind her.

“leah,” you croaked, voice shaking. “i’m okay. i—i’m okay.”

she bolted into the trees.

you thought she was running away—until she came back moments later, barefoot, shirt half-torn from the shift, skin covered in scratches and mud and blood. she didn’t even stop to grab new clothes. she didn’t care.

you expected her to snap. to scold. to yell.

but instead, she dropped to her knees in front of you and cupped your face in her trembling hands like you were glass and she’d already failed to keep you from cracking.

“you don’t—” her voice broke. she clenched her jaw, then tried again, softer but raw. “you don’t get to scare me like that.”

you blinked at her, wide-eyed.

“you don’t get to get hurt,” she whispered. “not you.”

she pressed her forehead to yours like she needed to feel you breathe just to believe you were still here. her hands were shaking so badly you could feel the tremor in your bones.

“i thought i was too late,” she said, her voice cracking open like something she’d been holding together for years. “i felt it—i felt your fear and i couldn’t—i didn’t get there fast enough, and what if—what if i lost you?”

tears welled in your eyes. “leah…”

“i can’t lose you,” she snapped, pulling back just enough to look at you. her eyes were wild, red-rimmed. “do you get that? i can’t. you’re the only thing that’s made this…this damn life feel worth it again.”

you stared at her.

her breathing hitched. she tried to look away—but you grabbed her hand.

“say it,” you said, quiet but steady.

she flinched.

“i know,” you whispered. “i’ve known. but i need you to say it.”

leah’s throat worked. her jaw clenched, like she wanted to swallow it down again. but this time, she couldn’t.

“i love you,” she breathed, like it physically hurt to let it out. “i’ve been in love with you since the second i realized fate wasn’t done screwing with me. and it scared the hell out of me because you’re seth’s best friend, and you’re light, and i don’t get light, not after everything i’ve done. i don’t deserve you.”

tears streamed silently down your face.

“and yet—there you are,” she whispered, voice breaking. “always choosing to stand next to me. and i—i don’t know how to be anything but afraid of that.”

you didn’t say anything at first. just leaned forward and wrapped your arms around her, pulling her into your chest.

leah went rigid for half a second.

then she shattered.

her arms curled around you like she was afraid you might disappear again, and she buried her face in your shoulder, shaking with relief and emotion and the echo of fear that hadn’t quite let her go.

you held her like you would never let go again.

because you wouldn’t.

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angelluv16 · 3 months ago

Text

Rumor Has it

✩: Kaia Jenner, the youngest Kardashian-Jenner, is an up-and-coming actress. When F1 driver Charles Leclerc casually calls her his favorite actress, the internet goes crazy. What starts as rumors turns into a whirlwind of drama, chemistry, and public scrutiny.

Part 3

faceclaim: Cindy Kimberly, girls from Pinterest

Want to be added to my taglist?: Click here

pairing: Charles Leclerc x Jenner!reader

request: no!!

warnings: Hate, fluff, Angst, Language,

previous part | Main Masterlist | next part

-------------------------✩-------------------------

I tossed my phone onto the couch beside me, but the stupid grin on my face wouldn’t budge. Charles freaking Leclerc just slid into my DMs. Well… kind of. It was just a dumb conversation about swimming, but still.

“You’re smiling at your phone,” Kim pointed out, not even looking up from her laptop. “Which means one of two things—either you just secured a bag, or you’re texting a guy.”

I rolled my eyes. “Maybe I’m just really excited about my new pool floaties.”

Khloé snorted. “Yeah, because that’s totally what makes you smile like that.” She turned her head to look at me, raising an eyebrow. “So? Spill. Who is it?”

“It’s no one.” I grabbed a pillow and hugged it to my chest, maybe a little too defensively.

Kylie smirked from across the room. “It’s someone.”

“It’s really not,” I tried again, avoiding their stares.

Kim finally looked up, narrowing her eyes. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Khloé gasped dramatically. “Wait—wait, wait, wait—this wouldn’t have anything to do with Charles Leclerc, would it?”

My stomach dropped. “What?”

Kylie’s eyes lit up like she just hit the jackpot. “Oh my God, it is!”

I groaned, burying my face in the pillow. “It’s not!” My voice came out muffled.

Khloé grabbed my phone off the couch before I could stop her. “Then you wouldn’t mind if I—”

“Khloé, I swear to God, give that back.” I reached for it, but she held it out of my grasp, laughing.

“Relax, I’m not actually gonna go through your DMs,” she said, tossing it back to me. “But the fact that you panicked says everything I need to know.”

I slumped back against the couch, huffing. “You guys are so annoying.”

Kim sipped her tea, looking far too smug. “So, when’s the wedding?”

I groaned again. “I hate all of you.”

Kylie grinned. “Yeah, yeah. Just make sure we get front-row seats.”

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by charlesleclerc, kendalljenner, francisca.cgomes, and 65,783,789 others

kaia.jenner: A week in my life, Waiting to finally get those lessons

view 14,114 comments

charlesleclerc: I already told you I'm free whenever

kaia.jenner: Alright Pretty boy I'll see you at my house for those lessons

username10: Damn Charles was faster then me wtf

username11: THE ONE DIRECTION SHIRT

username12: Who's ur favorite member??

kaia.jenner: I've been a zayn girl Since I was little.

francisca.cgomes: Gorgeous gorgeous

kaia.jenner: All you

kendalljenner: she's been Staring at her phone I think waiting for a text from you

username13: ahah Not kendall Outing her

username14: waiting to see "Charles leclerc was seen in LA" post from f1 gossip

username15: At this point, just show up at the track and demand them 💀

kaia.jenner: Not a bad idea 🤔🤔

username16: I just know Charles is sweating after seeing this

username17: She’s so desperate for attention, it’s embarrassing.

username18:Another rich nepo baby making everything a moment 🙄

username19: I fear you’ll be waiting longer than Ferrari waits to switch tire strategies 💀

username20: Kaia, if you don’t pull up to Monaco with floaties and DEMAND your lesson I will hunt you down.

username21: Just tell him Lando offered first and watch how fast he books a pool

lando: Yeah If you want I can teach you (pls don't run me over Charles)

charlesleclerc:😡😡😡

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

-------------------------✩-------------------------

Taglist: @anamiad00msday @Ale-522 @sarx164 @gottalovesae @meadhbhcavanagh @fulla02 @fanficfanatic77 @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @golden-hoax @poolclaws @Hadidsworld @perfectmenarefictional @lottalove4evelyn @edgyficuselastica @nebarious @mbioooo0000 @fanny2811 @greantii @norstappenvibes @mary-op81

-------------------------✩-------------------------

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magnagaruzenmon · 3 months ago

Text

Valentine’s day

A quick break from our usual posting. Shout out to @smuttysabina for this idea. Love em to death though

You get home from another busy day—hours of spreadsheet drudgery, mind-numbing meetings, and traffic that tested every ounce of your patience. Your body aches for the sweet embrace of your couch, maybe some takeout, and a mindless scroll through your phone. But as you step inside, you’re immediately greeted by an unfamiliar scent—roses.

You pause, frowning. You’re not really a floral person, and you’re certain you didn’t leave anything like that here. Your eyes scan the apartment, and that’s when you notice them—delicate rose petals, scattered across the floor like breadcrumbs leading you somewhere.

Okay, weird. But you’re too tired to question it. You kneel down, picking up a few petals as you follow the unexpected trail down the hall. The path leads straight to your room.

Pushing open the door, you’re met with an even stranger sight.

Hyoon—your long-time friend, gaming rival, and occasional chaos-bringer—is sprawled across your bed, deeply engrossed in a fighting game. She’s decked out in a casual but killer Mai Shiranui cosplay, complete with the iconic red and white outfit, though she’s opted for comfortable shorts instead of the full getup. Her fingers move with practiced precision over the controller, her eyes locked onto the screen, entirely in the zone.

You stand there, utterly perplexed, still not connecting the dots.

Sensing your presence, Hyoon blinks, snapping out of her trance. She quickly turns toward you, and then—as if suddenly remembering something—shifts into what you assume is supposed to be a seductive pose. One leg bent, head tilted, lips slightly parted.

The effect is… lost on you.

“Hey, Hyoon. What are you doing here? I thought you had a super cool Valentine,” you say, leaning against the doorframe.

She stares at you, her expression unreadable for a moment, before letting out a long, exasperated sigh.

“Why are you so dumb?” she mutters under her breath before sitting up, crossing her arms. “You are my super cool Valentine!”

Silence. Your brain short-circuits for a beat.

You step back, leaving the room, closing the door behind you.

A moment passes. Then you open it again.

“I’m making dinner. You want some?”

Hyoon lets out a laugh, shaking her head before grinning at you. “Yeah, sure.”

You move to the kitchen, rolling up your sleeves as you start pulling out ingredients from the fridge. Nothing fancy—just something quick and comforting. A stir-fry, maybe. You toss some oil into the pan, letting it heat up as you begin chopping vegetables with practiced ease.

Behind you, Hyoon hops onto the counter, swinging her legs as she watches you cook. She’s still wearing that Mai outfit, but now she’s ditched the attempt at seduction and settled into her usual self—casual, teasing, and just a little chaotic.

“So,” she starts, her voice light but probing. “Why didn’t you know?”

You pause, glancing at her. “Know what?”

Hyoon gives you a deadpan stare. “That I liked you, dumbass.”

Your hands freeze mid-chop. The sound of sizzling oil suddenly feels way too loud in the silence that follows.

“…I dunno,” you admit after a beat, resuming your cutting just to have something to do with your hands. “You never said anything.”

Hyoon groans dramatically, throwing her head back. “I have said things. So many things! I even wore this stupid cosplay today because I thought you’d get the hint!” She gestures at herself, then huffs. “Do you know how many times I’ve hinted at it?”

You think back. Hyoon has always been close to you—always teasing, always finding ways to stick around. The playful nudges, the way she always made sure to sit next to you during hangouts, the way she lingered when everyone else left. The way she looked at you sometimes, like you were the only one in the room.

You swallow, flipping the vegetables in the pan. “…I thought you were just like that with everyone.”

Hyoon blinks at you, then slowly, so slowly, drags a hand down her face. “Oh my god.”

You smirk, stirring the food. “Hey, in my defense, you do flirt with, like, everyone.”

“Yeah, but I flirt with you the most,” she mutters, crossing her arms. “I don’t do all this for just anyone, you know.”

Something warm flickers in your chest, unexpected but not unwelcome. You glance at her, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “So… how long?”

Hyoon meets your eyes, and for once, there’s no teasing in her expression. Just something soft, something real. “…A while.”

The weight of that lingers between you as you plate the food. You slide a dish over to her, and she takes it with a quiet ‘thanks,’ eyes briefly flicking to you before she digs in.

You sit beside her, eating in comfortable silence. The air between you has shifted, subtle but undeniable.

Maybe you’ve been a little dumb.

After Dinner is finished Hyoon and you lay on your couch as a dumb youtube video plays.

“Okay I want desert now,” Hyoon says as she forces open your pants before taking your cock in her mouth. You moan as her lips wrap around your cock. Hyoon looks up at you with a wild and happy smile as she takes you in and out of her mouth.

“Fuck you taste so good,” she says as she wraps her tongue around your cock. You moan and Hyoon replies, “yeah moan like a little slut for me baby,” you get lost in her as she continues to suck you off.

Her cheeks hollow as sucks your cock with an intense look before she says, “I should completely ruin this orgasm for you,” you groan begging her not to, and she smiles before going back to sucking you off. As she does she tightens her throat around you at a vicious pace before you explode in her throat. Hyoon looks up and smiles at you before saying “Good Boy,”

#otv #otv smut #hyoon #hyoon fanfic #hyoon smut #cosplay smut

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jadeylovesmarvelxo · 1 year ago

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Eddie gets beaten on by Jason and his crew and Reader (who has a crush on him) sees him limping to his van and she walks over to him and helps him into the van, drives him home and then does her best to patch him up and help him, maybe ending with a sweet kiss? Request by @somethingvicked

Mentions of violence, blood. Little bits of angst sprinkled with fluff and a speechless Eddie. mdni.

Eddie x fem!reader.

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Not canon compliant because Jason is alive in this for story purposes, Vecna is gone for good though. Bye bye you grinchy ass looking bitch 💁‍♀️

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The first hit came before Eddie could even dodge it. Jason's fist hits his face with precision, then another blow to his stomach doubles Eddie over.

"We all know you killed Chrissy and the others, you freak, I don't give a shit what the chief of police said, you did it" Jason's face is red with fury, lost in a haze of violence. One of his friends holds Eddie's arms around his back, so he can't defend himself.

Which is when Eddie has the extremely dumb idea to use his head to smash into Carver's nose. It works in the fact that it sends him stumbling back...doesn't help the pain he's already feeling though, the force of the hit sends another wave of agony through him.

Fuck, did he actually break his nose on Carver's face?

He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, he did not survive almost getting eaten alive by demobats to get killed by Jason and his friends. Jason stumbles to his feet and the grip on his shoulders tightens courtesy of David and Liam.

"Tell me what you did to her, Munson! Say it, you fucking asshole" Jason screams at him, Eddie wants to tell him everything, everything that went down during Spring Break, the Demobats, The Upside Down, Vecna. All of it.

But he can't. Nda's were signed and let's be real, Jason wouldn't believe him even if Eddie did tell the truth. He was still trying to wrap his head around it himself. "I didn't hurt her man. I didn't hurt any of them I swear it" Eddie chokes out. His ribs are aching and he's sure his bandages have come loose.

There's another thump that catches him off guard, hits the sensitive spots where the bats tore into him and he's blinking back tears of pain.

He expects another blow to knock him off his feet but when he looks up Jason's fist is cocked and he's in position to hit Eddie again but the hit doesn't come. Instead, Jason's face crumples in pain and he drops his hand, within seconds Eddie is tossed unceremoniously onto the floor and Jason and his friends are gone.

What the fuck?

He doesn't know how he does it but he manages to drag his ass up into a standing position and limps all the way to his van, tries to calm his racing heart and figures a smoke might settle his nerves.

His fingers are shaking as he tries to light up, then he almost drops it when a soft voice comes out of nowhere.

"Are you okay?"

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You saw Eddie limping to his van just as you were ready to bike home. Even from where you were you could see the blood on his shirt. Jason and his friends must have caught up to him, you have no doubt about it.

Everyone knew what happened at Spring Break, at least with the murders. How Eddie was blamed then cleared, Hawkins finding the real culprit Henry Creel, a deranged serial killer.

To be honest you never believed that Eddie had anything to do with the murders in the first place, there were rumours about the state of the bodies, bones broken and twisted in ways that couldn't be natural, eyeballs sunken in and jaws broken. It was the stuff of nightmares.

Some idiots thought that Eddie was a vessel for satan and that's what Dungeons and Dragons was about, a satanic ritual. It was ridiculous. Your friend's cousin played D&D and it was just a fantasy game. Nothing satanic about it.

Without thinking you head over to Eddie. Maybe you could help? You were a whiz with first aid and he looked like he needed patched up and like he could use a friend. Quietly you approach him as he tries to light his cigarette, his hands are shaking so you reach out to steady them.

"You okay?" He peers up at you, big brown eyes wide and kinda like a deer in headlights, he really was beautiful. Normally being this close to someone you had a crush on for almost the whole school year would be mortifying but you were more worried about his injuries than your racing heart right now.

"Hi Eddie" you murmur and he's still gawking at you but accepts your help to light the cigarette, watches you curiously as he takes the first drag.

"Uh hi sweetheart" you and Eddie talked a few times, every time you did he would have a cheeky smile (all dimples) and a cute nickname for you. It did not help with your crush one bit, even though he probably called everybody some sort of nickname, it still made your heart skip a beat.

"Carver did a number on you" you wince as you take in the cuts and bruises on his arm, the blood on his face "I can drive you home, take a look at the injuries?" He nods and tosses you his keys.

You help Eddie into the van as best as you can then head inside. He gives you directions to head to his trailer and you get him there and inside with minimal fuss.

"Okay, you'll need to take your shirt off" you murmur as Eddie points you in the direction of a first aid kit. Eddie grins, "Trying to get me naked or something princess?" he teases and you do your best to hide how flustered you are.

It wasn't your fault, his eyes were so pretty and the way his voice deepened at the end of the sentence gave you butterflies. Shit. This was so not the time.

You locate the first aid kit and get out new bandages, wipes and plasters, scissors and painkillers.

When you head back into Eddie's room he's propped up on the bed. He's shirtless, tattoos on full display and from your vantage point you can see some scars where his bandages have fallen off, silvery scars that look a lot like bite marks...

Eddie looks nervous which is rare for him so you don't comment on the scars, you're curious though but don't want to push. "Do they still hurt?" you ask quietly and his smile dims just a bit.

"A little, not as bad as when it first happened though, fucking bats" he curses then his gaze widens as it meets yours. Bats?

"Bats?" you probe gently and make sure that his bandages are secure again, from the small peeks that you can see, the bite marks are healing but still red, some are healed or are silvery scars. It looks like he was mauled, the thought makes your hands shake.

He sighs, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you princess" your heart skips a beat again but you ignore that, still curious what he means.

"Yeah? Try me. Any person in this stupid town can see that it's cursed or something isn't right" Eddie bites his lips and he looks like he wants to tell you, he really does.

"I wish I could sweetheart but it's uh complicated, nda's and cover-ups and shit" Oh. Well shit. "But yeah bats, big bats, not cute ones either but ugly little shits with super sharp teeth and claws. I can let you know that much"

You're stunned but then some of the things that you've heard Dustin say to Jason and other people who don't believe that Eddie's innocent come back to you.

"He's not a murderer. He's a hero. You stupid assholes don't deserve what he did for you"

So Eddie was protecting the town? Dustin too and maybe other people were involved? You smile and begin to clean up Eddie's cuts. "Hmm, Dustin's right then" Eddie looks confused and you lean forward to clean the blood on his nose.

"Oh yeah? What did the little butthead say?" he asks with a fond expression, you giggle at his tone. Like Dustin is his little brother or something, it's sweet. It's sweet how he looks after people in Hellfire Club, and it pisses you off that people just think he's a freak and don't look past their stupid prejudices to see how good Eddie is.

"That you're a hero. I believe that Eddie Munson, then again I've always thought you were a hero" it's Eddie's turn to be speechless as he gawks at you.

"You think I'm a hero?" he looks like he can't believe that anyone would ever think that about him and it hurts your heart so much.

"Well yeah, anyone who takes lost sheep under their wing and protects them like you do? Or risks his life for a town that can't see past their own stupid prejudices to see what's really happening? Yeah, I think you're a hero Eddie" your speech is impassioned and a bit of a rant so you're breathless, eyes sparkling at the end of it.

Once again Eddie is speechless but not for the reasons you think. "You're beautiful" he murmurs awed and you're flustered once again. Damn it.

"Maybe the hero gets the girl?" he asks softly and there goes your traitor heart again. Does he mean you? Or some other girl maybe. The thought hurts your heart but you plaster a smile on your face.

"I'm not sure any girl could resist those pretty eyes Eddie" a faint blush coats his cheeks at your compliment and he fakes a swoon, smiles at you all dimples and cuteness.

"Flattery works with me princess, not only am I a hero but I also have pretty eyes" you giggle at his overdramatic gestures.

He's all patched up now so he puts his shirt back in and a funny tension hangs in the air. "So, uh would you like to hang out again? when I'm not all beat up and shit. Maybe Friday?" Oh. You beam and nod feeling shy all of a sudden.

"Like a date?" you ask hopefully and he's still blushing faintly. It's so cute and you're sure tonight you're going to be squealing over every interaction the two of you had.

"Yeah, a date princess, he moves closer and the way he's looking at you is sending your heart into overdrive. "can, can I kiss you?" He asks and you nod, wanting nothing more than to press your lips against his plush pink ones.

He strokes your cheek and then his lips meet yours, it starts off gentle and hesitant, then it deepens and you gasp pulling him closer. You both come away a little bit dazed and you giggle as he flops dramatically on the bed.

"Now that was some kiss sweetheart, he beams at the sound of your giggles, when you sober up you bite your lip and decide to tell him a secret.

"I never thought you'd notice me" you say it quietly but he still hears it and gapes like you've truly stunned him this time.

"Seeing your pretty smile dragged me out of bed most days sweetheart, even more than d&d but that's our little secret" he winks and you make a zipping motion. Before you leave Eddie pulls you into another kiss then another.

Okay, so maybe you could be a little late to return your movie at Family Video if it meant kissing Eddie some more.

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#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson angst #eddie munson hurt/comfort #eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader

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