#Tate Langdon x reader

[fear-is-truth]

⋆𐙚 ₊ no nut november .ᐟ

ft. tate langdon ‧ kit walker ‧ kyle spencer ‧ jimmy darling ‧ james march ‧ kai anderson ‧ peter maximoff

tate langdon ── 11/04

acts like he’s on board with the challenge at first, but it doesn’t take long for the strain to start showing. he’s not used to this level of restraint—especially when it’s you asking him.

managed to make it a few days but is visibly frustrated whenever he sees you, especially if you’re walking around wearing his sweater, licking a lollipop or basically just breathing and existing.

makes whiny complaints about how pointless this is. absolutely tries to cop a feel here and there.

after you caught him jerking off into your panties, he tries to convince you to just drop the whole idea so he can fuck you properly.

if all else fails, tate will try to initiate when you’re half-asleep. you’ll wake up to find him sidling closer, hands roaming, whispering in your ear about how “you can’t really mean this.”

it’s only day four, and tate’s already driving himself (and you) crazy. he trails behind you through every room in the house, whining about how “this whole challenge is fucking stupid.” and “what’d you expect me to do when you’re at school, huh? can’t even jerk off,” he complains, dragging his feet as he follows you into the kitchen. you laugh a little, shaking your head as you reach for a glass of water.

“it’s not that hard, tate. you’ll be fine,” you tell him, but you can feel his eyes trailing down, settling on your legs and the edge of your sundress.

“yeah?” before you can react, he’s wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing his chest to your back and pulling you close. he’s warm, and his hands slide down to rest on your hips, pulling you back against him. you can feel him grinding slowly, enough to make you feel the hard outline of his cock press against your ass.

“tate,” you warn, but he just huffs in indignation, burying his face in your shoulder. “you’re killing me, is that what you want?” he whines, but you reach back and give him a gentle shove, slipping out of his arms. “you’re already dead, tate.” he watches you, eyes shiny with hurt and longing before shoving his hands in his pockets and sulking off.

kit walker ── 11/15

kit genuinely tries, especially since you’re the one who proposed the challenge, but it’s hard. he’s always been affectionate and has a naturally high sex drive, so this test of willpower isn’t easy for him.

he’s restless and a little grumpy, occasionally making passing comments like, “don’t know how you expect me to do this” with a plaintive sigh that make it clear he’s barely holding it together.

kit has been sitting at the kitchen table for the past half hour, cigarette in hand, eyes locked on you the entire time as you’re working on a blueberry pie. it’s been two long weeks of restraint, and he’s been doing his best to keep his promise—but right now, watching you bustle around while wearing a apron, he feels his patience slipping.

finally, he stands, moving to the window above the sink and pulling open the blinds just enough to check the yard. outside, the kids are laughing and running, entirely preoccupied. satisfied, he lets the blinds fall back into place, turning his attention fully on you.

you look over your shoulder as he steps up behind you, that barely concealed hunger in his eye. “you hungry?” you ask, feigning innocence as you press the last bit of dough into the pie tin. he huffs a low laugh, his hands already slipping around your waist. “mhm. you can say that. not for pie, though.” he murmurs, voice vibrating against your cheek.

you raise an eyebrow, half-smiling as you remind him, “i thought you were trying to hold out.” kit lets his hands settle on your hips, pulling you back against him. “i was,” he says, dropping his head to press a kiss just below your ear, “but i don’t think i can keep it up anymore. i’ve been watchin’ you all afternoon, and all i can think about is you.”

his lips trail slowly along your neck as his fingers trace along the curves of your ass. “the kids’ll be fine outside,” he coos. “think it’s time i tapped out of this whole challenge,” and before you can protest, his mouth is on yours, firm and warm, every bit of his two-week restraint unraveling.

pre death .ᐟ kyle spencer ── completed

self control king. his frat brothers are amazed he’s lasted, even with all their attempts to sabotage him.

they constantly send him twitter porn links, show him porn mags or try to bribe you to help make him crack. but kyle doesn’t even budge.

you still have your daily cuddling routine, and he eats you out regularly because he’s a selfless boyfriend.

kyle’s fraternity decided to make a big deal out of the “no nut november trend”. they all took the challenge together, but one by one, his frat brothers dropped out, and by week four, kyle’s the last man still standing. you watch your boyfriend with a mix of admiration and slight frustration. it’s not that you want him to give in; it’s just… maybe you wouldn’t mind if he wanted to, at least a little.

you’re sitting with him in his room one night, the faint buzz of a party downstairs, but kyle’s paying it no mind. he’s stretched out on his bed, flipping through a class notebook, looking completely unbothered. you watch him for a moment, then sighs.

“kyle, i don’t know how you do it,”

he smiles, rubbing the back of his neck. “what can i say? i’ve got a will of steel.” he glances back down at his notes.

“so… when december starts, are you still planning on being all celibate and zen?”

he chuckles, his cheeks going a little pink. “not gonna lie, i’m already counting down the hours,” he admits, leaning in closer. “because the second november ends, i’m not holding back. if i survived this month, trust me—destroy dick december will be a breeze.”

you can’t help but laugh, and he leans in to give you a quick kiss, his hand finding yours. “but hey,” he says, voice softer, “it’s only easy because you make it worth waiting for.”

jimmy darling ── 11/06

initially tries to go along with the challenge because he respects you and doesn’t want to disappoint you.

but he’s also someone who thrives on touch, so it’s practically torture for him from the start.

you’ll catch him staring at you, and he gets visibly antsy, especially if you’re wearing something cute or revealing.

six days. that’s how long jimmy manages to last. he tries to keep his promise to you, he really does, but it’s no use. every time he sees you around the camp, especially when you’re dressed up in a leotard for a performance or just leaning close to help him with something, he gets that look in his eyes—hungry, smoldering, and unabashedly lustful.

it’s late, and you’re walking past jimmy’s caravan while carrying a basket of laundry when he finally snaps. he’s been watching you from afar, arms crossed and brows furrowed, looking like he’s pissed off about something. when you catch his eye, he’s already standing up and moving toward you like a missile.

“i can’t take this anymore, doll,” he whined, his breath reeking with the unmistakable smell of alcohol. “six days—feels like six damn years.” you laugh, shaking your head.

“jimmy, i told you it was just a challenge,” you tease, trying to keep a straight face. but he’s not having it. his hands settle on your waist, pulling you flush against his chest before he leans in, forehead resting against yours. “don’t care about any stupid fucking challenge. only care about you. i need you so bad,”

afterward, jimmy lets out a deep, satisfied sigh, resting his chin on your shoulder as you both try to catch your breath. slowly, he lets you slide back down to the ground, his arms loosening just enough for you to find your footing, though he doesn’t fully let go. you feel his lips press a lingering kiss to your neck, a lazy smirk spreading across his face.

“guess i lost,” his thumb rubbing small circles into your waist. he leans in closer, brushing his nose against yours. “but hell if it wasn’t worth it.”

james patrick march ── 11/24

james has self-control in spades, especially when it comes to his (ex) wife, elizabeth, who has often denied him for months at a time. so, he actually handles this challenge far better than you’d expect.

he channels his frustration elsewhere, like into his “hobbies” (aka his killing sprees around the hotel), which spike significantly during this time. murder brings him a similar orgasmic thrill, and he relies on that to keep himself satisfied.

despite the restraint, he never makes you feel pressured. james will hold your hand, kiss you chastely on the cheek, and even give you sweet little compliments, but that’s the extent of it.

you look up just as james steps into the room, wiping his hands with a bloodstained handkerchief, black eyes alight with the usual post-slaughter exhilaration. “ah, my darling,” he greets, voice smooth yet edged, like a blade still warm from a kill. your gaze falls to his hands, and he notices, lifting them for his own inspection. “a bit messier tonight, i’ll admit,” he murmurs with a sigh, dabbing at his knuckles, though the effort seems half-hearted.

“not even a night of indulgence can quiet the… urges you stir in me.”

he steps closer, fingers brushing your cheek, leaving the faintest trace of crimson on your skin. his hand lingers, flexing, as if he’s holding himself back. you smirk, leaning in to brush a kiss to his lips, there’s a metallic tang to it. james shudders, his hand bracing itself on the back of the couch, jaw clenching as if he’s struggling to restrain himself.

“is it really that difficult? i think you’re being a bit dramatic, dear.” the lilting coo of your voice, the sadistic intent behind it makes his cock twitch painfully in his trousers.

“you’re… tormenting me, truly,” he sighs in frustration. “this damnable month. all the blood in the world can’t satisfy what i truly crave.”

cult leader .ᐟ kai anderson ── completed

while some people might perceive him as a total sex fiend, kai has the self-discipline to pull this off easily, and he sees it as an experiment in control, something to elevate his focus.

claims that refraining from ejaculation is actually a tool for enhancing testosterone and will lecture the entire cult on the “benefits” of nnn. also brings up the heaven’s gate cult’s abstinence rule as a form of enlightenment and compares his self-control to “channeling energy for a higher purpose” (everyone knows that’s a load of bullshit)

you start trying to tempt him halfway through, wearing something a bit more revealing around him, but he just smirks, unaffected. the challenge you proposed to him feels almost trivial, which makes it all the more frustrating for you.

however, the second it’s december 1st, he flips. he’s at your door right at midnight, and you won’t be able to walk for a week.

kai’s taking no nut november in stride—too much stride, actually. you were the one who suggested it, but now his calm, unaffected attitude is starting to get under your skin. every time you attempt to seduce him, he gives no reaction.

when kai walks in your shared bedroom, you’re lounging in bed, legs spread wide open, wearing nothing but a tight white turtleneck sweater. he glances over, eyebrow raised. for a second, his gaze lingers on your hardened nipples straining against the fabric. then he just smirks, looks you up and down, and goes to grab his bottle of adderall without a word.

“really?” you ask, annoyed, but he just snorts. “nice try,” he says over his shoulder as he walks away. the days drag on, each one more frustrating than the last as he remains completely unmoved, almost like a silent “fuck you”.

finally, on november 30th, you’ve just about resigned yourself to defeat. you’re in bed, pulling the covers over yourself, when you hear footsteps in the hallway. you glance at the clock—it’s just turning from 23:59 to midnight, the start of december. you barely have a second to process it before your bedroom door swings open, and there he is, standing in the doorway with that same dark look in his eyes, only this time, there’s nothing holding him back.

“miss me?” he asks as he steps inside and closes the door behind him.

peter maximoff ── 11/08

he’ll try every trick in the book—whining, pouting, seduction, and even half-joking about “what if my balls burst?” “you’re actually gonna let me suffer like this?”

on day eight, peter’s pretty much losing his mind. he’s sprawled out on the couch, groaning dramatically every few minutes, tossing his head back as if he’s in physical pain.

“this is torture,” he complains, looking at you with big, desperate eyes. “what’d i ever do to deserve this? my balls are gonna burst,”

you just laugh, shaking your head as you unwrap a lollipop. “you’ve gone without it for a day over a week, peter. you act like it’s been a lifetime,” you tease, popping the candy into your mouth with a grin.

his eyes follow the movement, and his whole expression changes, growing intense in a way that’s unlike his usual playful self. for a second, he’s silent, watching you suck on the lollipop like it’s the final straw. “okay, i’m not gonna survive this,” he mutters, voice a bit rough.

in the blink of an eye, he’s disappeared, zipping down the hall. you hear the bathroom door slam shut, followed by a muffled, frustrated groan from the other side.

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[temporarywelcome]

Please? - Peter Maximoff

Word Count: 3.5k

REQUESTED!

The Ask: I humbly ask for a Peter Maximoff smut, I'm thinking y/n either a: distracts him while he is playing his arcade games, b: using whipped cream to give him a lil sweet treat while fucking, or c: literally any smut of this man, I need him. Preferably him being a little cocky/silly, but when you actually do anything he is a whimpering mess praising you. - @envy-of-greed

I give you... Option A.

WARNINGS: SMUT! oral (m recieve), handjob, mommy kink, praise, reader is a tease, reader is MEAN, sub!peter, dom!reader, Peter becomes a MESS, reader calls him "pup" and "puppy" like once, aftercare, alluding to punishment

A/N: gonna work on a Spencer Reid fluff/comedic fic next

_____

Peter was annoying as hell.

She loved him to bits, she would do absolutely anything for him, but she was allowed to admit her boyfriend was a complete terror?

Y/N was peacefully sitting in her room when her telephone had rang. Placing down her magazine, she reached for it, bringing it to her ear, “Hello?”

“Babeeee,”

What a surprise this was. Peter Maximoff, who usually would just show up unannounced with his super speed, decided to give her a phone call?

“Peter? What’s the occasion?” she asked with a smile, leaning back against her pillows, twirling the telephone’s wire in her newly manicured fingers. 

“Eh, I just remember you saying you like phone calls, the bonding or whatever. So i wanted to give you one.”

That made her heart melt. This little terror was sometimes a complete angel as well. “Yeah…” Y/N replied, “I love phone calls. Your voice sounds so nice on the phone, by the way,”

She could already picture him blushing. “I-It does? I mean, of course, yeah it does! I’m Peter freaking Maximoff, babe. Everything about me is top-tier,”

“You could work on your baking skills,” she mused, remembering literally every single time she would attempt to bake something with him. Flour everywhere. Remnants of cake or brownie batter on his face because he just had to eat some (a lot). Firealarm going off. Burnt baked goods. Every. Single. Time.

“Bitch! Every baking failure is your fault for always distracting me!” he whined in protest.

“How the hell do I distract you? I’m baking too!” 

“ ‘Cause you’re pretty,” Peter replied cheekily, and she knew he would have wiggled his eyebrows if she could see him, “How am I supposed to focus?”

“Stop making excuses for your terrible baking skills. Even if I wasn’t there, you would be a mess,”

“For different reasons,” Peter scoffed, “I can’t bake by myself, I need your guidance,”

“But you can’t bake with me either because you allegedly get distracted. Sounds like you just can’t bake,”

“Fuck off,” he grumbled, making her laugh, “Let’s get to more important business: when can I pick you up?”

“I wasn’t aware of being picked up at all,”

“Yeah well I’m picking you up. I wanna spend some time with you!” she could hear his excited tone that was so uniquely Peter. Everything about him was unique. Everything about him was different and weird and strange and she loved every part of him. 

“Well…” Y/N sighed, “I was going to start on some homework…”

“Boooo! College student booooo!”

“Shit, excuse me for wanting an education. Better than planning on living in my mom’s basement for the rest of my life,” she teased.

“Ouch. Fine. Can’t you do your homework later?”

“I’ve been procrastinating on it,” Y/N set down her magazine, getting off of the bed and walking to her desk, stretching her body as far as she could with the limits of the phone cord. Fingertips brushing against her notebook, she was able to grab it, nestling back into her bed and opening it, “Shit, it’s a lot.”

“Who cares? Finish it tomorrow!”

“It’s due in the morning.”

She could already tell he was pouting, she knew him so well. “Can’t you do it at my place?”

“You mean your mom’s place?” Y/N decided to keep teasing him. Peter was pretty much a loser, not really having any plans in life other than to lounge in his mom’s basement playing video games and eating twinkies for eternity. He thought he was a loser, Y/N’s parents thought he was a loser (which is why they don’t like him much), even Y/N thought he was a loser when they had first met. 

Yet here she was, smiling like an idiot while babbling on the telephone with said loser. Said loser who always gives her (stolen) gifts. Said loser who comes over at random points in the day just to say he loves her (superspeed is pretty handy). Said loser who named his Dungeons and Dragons character after her (however, he was such a loser, he didn’t have many people to play it with). Said loser who would scoff and pout whenever she would tease him about being her future house husband (well, what else would he be, if he just plays video games and dotes on her all day?) Her favorite loser. 

“Yes,” Peter deadpanned, “My mom’s place. Now may I come over so I can escort you to my mom’s place?”

She pretended to think about it, hearing his soft breathing on the other line as he waited for her to answer, “Fine. No distractions though!” 

“Yes, ma’am,”

Y/N opened her mouth to say something else, jumping when she heard a harsh knock on her window. Whipping her head towards the source of the noise, she rolled her eyes with a laugh. Peter, waving at her with his usual happy dorky expression. Placing the phone back down onto its receiver, Y/N rushed towards the window, opening it. “Babe!”

“Missed me?” he asked with a smirk, zipping into her room and right past her, making her roll her eyes again. He picked up her notebook, examining the pages, “Ew ew ew. What the hell are you studying again?”

“Psychology,” Y/N sat on the bed, slipping her sneakers on and tying them. 

“Boring,” he sped off in a blur to her desk, grabbing a pencil, and rushing back to her notebook. 

She didn’t even notice, focused on her sneakers, but when she raised her head and saw him drawing on her notebook, her facial expression soured, “Pietro Maximoff!” she snatched the notebook back, flicking his forehead. 

“Hey!” he gasped dramatically, “Ain’t no way you used my real name.”

“You misbehave to the point I have to like a mom,” Y/n replied dryly, going off to her closet to grab her bag. Brows furrowing, she dug around a bit, “Shit… Dunno where my bag went-”

“Ahem,”

Y/N didn’t even have to turn to know what that meant. But she did, and, not to her surprise, Peter was holding her bag with a smirk on his face. 

“Asshole,” she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. She knew him well. If she attempted to grab the bag, he would just zoom off somewhere else to tease her. 

“Aren’t you going to get it?” he asked with faux innocence, holding it out to her. 

“Fuck that, I know what you’re planning,” Y/N shook her head, raising her brow at him expectantly, “Drop the bag,”

“Um, am I a dog?” He placed a hand to his chest, jaw dropping like the drama king he was. He should have been in theatre when he was in school. 

“Do I have to treat you like one?” Y/N threatened boldly, “Come on, pup, drop the bag,”

Peter’s eyes widened and he dropped the bag, “You did not just say that,” 

“Well, it worked,” Y/N smirked, grabbing her bag and planting a kiss on his cheek, “Good boy,” She began throwing her supplies for her homework into her bag, unaware of the growing dent in his pants. 

“Bitch,” he mumbled to himself, too quiet for her to hear. 

“Alright, I’m ready to go,” she announced, slinging her bag over her shoulder. He just stood there, eyes glazed over. “Earth to Peter?” she snapped her fingers in his face twice before he blinked, coming back down to society. 

“Okayletsgetoutofhere,” he word vomited, grabbing her waist (with one hand on her neck, of course! Gotta prevent that whiplash!), and within seconds, they were in his room (the basement). 

“Shit, am I ever gonna get used to that?” Y/N laughed, flopping onto his unmade bed in dizziness. Before she could react, Peter dived in on top of her, making her let out a pained, “Oof!” and a “Peter!”

A childish giggle left him, arms going around her waist as he nuzzled into her neck, “Hm?”

“Can’t breathe,”

“Are you calling me fat?”

“I apologize, my dainty little princess,” she deadpanned, arms going around him too. Yes, he was crushing her, but she honestly didn’t care, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. She then felt something on her thigh. Felt like something was poking-

Oh.

Oh.

She smirked, but didn’t say anything about what she just realized, casually stroking his hair, “My pretty puppy,”

He gasped, immediately dashing off. Poor thing was flustered, playing one of his (stolen) arcade games, back turned to her. 

“What’s wrong?” Y/N immediately got to teasing him, “I thought we were cuddling?”

“Wanna game,” he replied simply, and his ears went red. Cutie pie. 

“You wanna game? But I thought you wanted to spend time with me?” she laughed.

“You said you wanted to do your homework,” 

“True true…” she opened up her notebook, glancing at his squirming figure, “You dancin’, love?”

“No, I’m not dancing,” was all he said. There were plenty of times he didn’t catch onto her teasing, which was always adorable. This seemed to be one of them.

“Then why are you moving like that?” 

“Like what?” Now he was playing dumb. He groaned as he died in the game, restarting it.

She slid off of the bed, walking to him and wrapping her arms around his waist from behind. Resting her chin on his shoulder, she said, “You’re acting funny, darling,” she pressed a kiss to the side of his neck, feeling him tense under her touch.

“N-No, I’m not,”

“Oh, really?” One hand reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear before planting a kiss there, “You’ve been acting funny ever since I called you a good boy,” His breath hitched, making her smirk, “I didn’t know calling you that would have such an effect on you, baby. Maybe it’s because you’re so bratty, you don’t hear that often, huh?”

“Stoooop,” he whined, losing in his game again, “You made me lose,” Peter pouted. 

“Hm,” she let her hands drop lower, fiddling with the button of his pants absentmindedly, “You must be slacking, Peter! You should be able to game under any condition, right?”

“But-”

“Nuhuh,” she pressed a finger to his plush lips, “No ‘but’s from you. We gotta practice your concentration skills, my love. They’re lacking,” she unbuttoned his jeans, making him gasp. His hands were gripping the game’s controls tightly, however they were unmoving as she palmed him through his boxers. “Hey,” she roughly squeezed his length, making him squeak cutely. “Did I say you could stop? C’mon, time to practice.” 

“S-Sorry, Y/N,” he stuttered out, hitting restart again. She squeezed his cock through his boxers again, earning a whine from him. 

“Now what do you call me when I play with you?” Y/N asked tauntingly, running a single finger over his clothed length. Up and down. Up and down. Up and-

“Mommy,” he bit his bottom lip to keep himself from moaning. 

“That’s right, darling, I’m Mommy,” She stepped away, confusing him, until she got down on the floor, crawling right between him and the game. “Mommy’s going to take care of your pretty cock now, okay?” Her hands trailed towards the belt loops of his jeans as she spoke, “You are not allowed to stop playing your game. Each in-game death is two spanks. You’re not allowed to cum till you clear three levels, understood?”

Peter’s cheeks flared up and he nodded excitedly, “Yes, Mommy,” 

“Good boy,” she purred, pulling down his pants and letting them pool at his ankles. Fingers dipping into the waistband of his boxers, she cooed, already noticing a small wet patch, “So excited, huh?” she pulled down his boxers, letting them join his pants on the floor. Y/N stuck out her index finger, letting it run along his cock like before. Up and down. Up and down. Up and-

“-Mommy,” Peter whined, “Stop teasing me, please,”

“Oh? The bratty boy is using his manners?” she cooed, wrapping her fingers around his thick length and slooooowly stroking him, “Remember the rules and everything will feel amazing, yeah?”

He nodded, sucking in a breath, “Y-Yeah,” Peter tried to focus on his game, he really did, trying his best to get his character past the villainous NPCs. But as soon as Y/N began to stroke faster, he whimpered, his character being slain. 

“Oh?” Y/N smirked, pausing her movements and making him whine more, “Already lost? That’s two spanks, darling,”

“Sorry, Mommy…” He mumbled in embarrassment, restarting the game, “I won't do it again- fuck,” She started stroking him again, the delicious feeling going straight to his pretty little head. Any sort of sexual intimacy would immediately make his brain short-circuit, causing him to be complete putty in her hands.

“I know you won’t do it again, Peter, because you’re a good boy, right?” Y/N’s lips curled into a little smile, leaning forward to press a kiss to his tip, continuing to stroke him. “You’re my good boy?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, bottom lip between his teeth as he attempted his game again, his avatar jumping through obstacles and avoiding approaching enemies, “I’m y-your good boy- ughhh,” she wrapped her pretty lips around his tip, teasingly sucking on it. He bit his bottom lip again, hard enough to draw blood. 

Peter couldn’t help it, he took a glance down at Y/N, mouth going dry seeing her sucking on his tip, stroking him in a steady rhythm with her own eyes looking dead at his. His eyes widened seeing her take him deeper into her mouth, eyes not leaving his for even a second.

Game over.

He looked up at the screen of his game, realizing his character died again. Fuck. 

Y/N pulled her mouth off of his dick with a pop, making him whimper, “Two more spanks, darling. That’s four now.”

This was going to suck. This was going to suck in the best way possible. 

“Didn’t you say you were going to be a good boy?” Y/N asked, pouting exageratively, “I remember you saying you were going to be a good boy,”

“I am your good boy!” Peter huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Y/N laughed, pressing a kiss to his thigh, “You’re so cute, baby. Now, c’mon, start the game again. You’ll never get to cum at this rate.”

Poor thing panics, starting the game up again. He began spamming the buttons desperately, wanting to clear those three levels so Y/N would allow him to cum. Overstimulation was hot as hell, but edging was terrible (which is why that was her usual punishment for him).  

Her lips were on him again, sucking hard, and poor guy was seeing fucking stars trying to focus on this damn fucking game. He was a good gamer, these levels should be easy to clear, but when Mommy is sucking his cock how is he able to focus on such a thing? He would rather abandon the game and fuck her like a bitch in heat, which is certainly what he felt like at that moment. 

It was torture. Spamming buttons desperately, not beating the level, the threat of edging and spanking in the air. He was going crazy.

“Thats ten spanks now, baby,” Y/N said after another failed level, “I thought you were good at games,”

“I-I am!” He exclaimed, “It's hard to fucking focus when you're sucking the soul out of me!” A pout formed on his pretty lips, brows furrowed as he attempted to play the level again. 

“Watch your tone, Peter,” Y/N glared at him, making him feel emotional. Whenever he was in a vulnerable place like this, it's embarrassingly easy for him to burst into tears. Especially because during any form of intimacy he was baby or darling or something cute, never Peter. Why would she call him by his name? Was he being bad?

“Sorry, Mama,” he mumbled.

Y/N couldn't help but smile softly, being reminded once again how much she adored him. Her pretty boy. Her favorite loser. Being called her titles by him always made her weak at the knees. “I know, baby,” she was a soft domme at heart, she can't be mad at him. Ever. He was her baby and he deserved the whole world. “Let's try this again, okay?”

She waited for him to nod before taking him into her mouth again. His pretty tip was red and hot in her mouth, dribbling pre-cum on her tongue as she swirled the muscle along. 

He finally beat the first level, moving on to the next excitedly. He was getting somewhere now! Soon he'll be allowed to cum and maybe Y/N will let him inside…

Yes, he really wanted to be inside her. 

Y/N began taking him deeper into her mouth, and fuck he felt his tip nudge the back of her throat so perfectly he wanted to cum. So bad. But he won't because he's a good boy and he's not going to cum until he's allowed to. 

That was the plan, at least.

But his name was Quicksilver for a reason and he could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge. His left hand was gripping the joystick painfully hard, knuckles white as he moved it around in an attempt to get his character across the map to the next level. 

He finally made it to the third level, sighing in relief. He was getting somewhere. Almost to the end. She was bobbing her head up and down, one hand gently rubbing his tender balls, bringing him closer and closer to release. 

“AhI’msoclosethatfeelssogoodthankyouthankyouI’msoclose” he babbled out, speaking practically a mile a minute. A wide grin appeared on his face once he cleared the third level, “IdiditcanIcomenowpleasecanIcumnow-”

She pulled off of his dick again, making him groan in both desperation and annoyance, “You cleared the level? Good job, sweetie. I guess I can let you cum now…” They both stared at each other, Peter panting and his chest rising with each labored breath, Y/N batting her eyelashes at him meanly, continuing to tease him. He was ready to just start fucking her face and go wild, but he told himself he was going to behave.

So he’s going to behave. 

Ugh, but why does she have to make it so hard? 

“Can you keep going?” he finally asked.

“Should I, though?”

“You… You promised!” he gasped, eyes widening in panic.

“Hmmm, I don’t remember promising anything,” she replied, trailing her finger along his shaft like she always did when she wanted to fucking tease him. Up and down up and down up and down-

“Please?” Was she really going to make him beg? She knew he hated begging, which is probably why she enjoyed making him do that so much. 

All she did was hum, continuing with that aggravating motion of her finger, fucking asshole. 

“Please, Mommy?” he grumbled, hands balling into fists at his sides to keep him from going crazy. Think with your head and not your dick, Peter.

Y/N gave him another mean smirk, “That’s my boy…” she went straight back to sucking him off, and he was back to being a fucking mess. 

“ThatfeelssogoodyoualwaysdosogoodfuckI’mgoingtocumcanIcumpleasepleaseplease-”

She nodded, not stopping her sucking motion for even a second. However, his eyes were screwed shut so he didn’t even notice, continuing to beg to cum till she released his dick from her mouth and said, “You can cum, baby,” with a little laugh before going right back to work. 

And within two seconds of being back inside her mouth, he was cumming hard, hands going to her hair for something to keep him grounded. When she pulled away from his cock once again, she swallowed without a second thought, rubbing his thigh soothingly, “You still there, baby?”

“Mhm,” Peter was a known chatterbox, everybody knew this. But every time after cumming, his desire to speak would vanish, the need to just be held and taken care of overpowering all else. 

So Y/N stood up, taking his hand, “Let’s lay down, yeah?” She knew Peter could not last long, however, he could bounce back extremely fast. Just some cuddles will do, and he’ll be back to either a) yapping her ear off, or b) being hard as a rock. Or both. Who knows? 

She laid down on his (unmade) bed, pulling him down beside her, “You need anything, baby?” He simply shrugged, arms going around her waist and resting his head on her shoulder, “Water?” He shook his head. “Snack?” Fast nod. Of course. “Alright,” she went to sit up, but he immediately tightened his grip on her. “Didn’t you want a snack?” she laughed.

He thought for a moment before hesitantly releasing her from his hold, allowing her to get up and go to his practical tower of Hostess treats, grabbing a box of Twinkies. His favorite. Sitting back down, she opened up the box, unwrapping a cakey treat while he leaned against her again. 

“Here you go,” she said softly, letting Peter pluck the dessert from her hand and eat it. It was silent as he ate, her hand going to his hair to gently stroke the silver strands. 

“Thank you,” he mumbled after he finished, looking up at her with a cute smile, “You always know just what I need,” he nuzzled his nose into her neck, inhaling her scent. “Love you,”

“Love you too, baby,” she kissed his head, sighing peacefully, “So… about that punishment…”

[kadentherabbit]

Can you do Tate Langdon jealousy sex? Like someone came over and they were being flirty??

The only friend you’ll ever need.

Divider by @/enchanthings

i am back 😈😈 but i am still rusty so be nice to me.

this fic IS proofread!!!!! This fic includes Tate thinking about murder, Tate is in fact dead in this, very small amounts of dialouge, uhhhh sex, ass slapping, no aftercare, and a very lazy ending :(.

Tate watched as that stupid guy friend of yours finally left, he had to resist the urge to just snap that guy's neck when he was leaving your room, it wouldn't matter either way because Tate would never let him in the house ever again, over his living body would you ever speak to him again. He didn't understand how you were so oblivious to the guy's flirting, his hand would slide over your thigh a little too close to your crotch, or the way he would deepen his voice just to answer a simple question. Tate saw through the whole act, that he wasn't just trying to impress you, he was trying to get into your pants.

Tate stood in your doorframe, watching as you brushed out your hair and focused on the small amount of essay you had left to write, putting down the brush and replacing its empty spot in your hands with the pencil so you could jot down the ideas that had came to your head. He stood there for a few seconds longer without you noticing before taking a few steps closer, his feet made no noise against the creaky floorboards, ones that would alert you of anyone's presence if they weren't in fact dead and weightless like Tate was.

You felt his cold and slender fingers drag along your shoulders first, not staying there for long before moving up to play with your hair, twirling the soft strands around his fingers before pulling his hand away with a sigh, his eyes meeting yours in the vanity's mirror. The same cold and lifeless look he always had, yet, it had a slight hint of anger that you could pick up on. Your eyebrows furrowed slightly, waiting a second to speak to see if you could find out what was angering him this time before saying anything.

"What...?" You asked in a confused tone, turning around in your seat to face Tate. His eyes only moving down so he could stare at you more and just look angrier for no specific reason...well, no specific reason yet. "Whats wrong with you?" your tone switched to a more teasing one, head gently tilting to the side, Tate's hands once again tugging up from his sides to squeeze your cheek with a small amount of force.

small....tiny tiny time skip because I can't think of Tate dialogue....

You couldn't think, Tate thrusting into you harder than you swear he'd ever done before, his mindless mumbling and growling filling your ears. He was pissed and his actions showed it. You were ontop of him, hands trying to grasp onto anything you could but the moment you were able to reach him or his hair, he'd just smack your hand away. All he wanted to do was prove to you that he was the only friend you'd ever need.

Tate grabbed at the flesh of your ass, holding onto it gently for a few seconds as he continued fucking into your abused and leaking hole. Even if you werent able to touch him, he on the other hand, was able to grab at and smack at you however he wanted. I supppose that was another part of his revenge plot, Tates grumbling finally turned into words, you had almost expected some types of praise to counter just how rough he was aggressive he was being with you.

"He's not better than me is he? He can't fuck you like i can, can he?"

He almost sounded insecure with the way he whimpered at the end of his words but before you could answer his questions, he was cumming inside of you for the second time in about ten minutes. Tate's teeth gently dug into the soft skin of your neck and eventually your shoulder while he pushed himself further into you so he could really fill you up. More small whimpers flooding from the ghosts mouth as he emptied himself into you and your finger nails dug into the cold skin of his back.

You clenched around him as your orgasm finally took you over, shaking slighlty as your nails left cresant shaped marks in his skin. The two of you almost stuck together due to the large amount of sweat that had started to pool over your bodies. Tate only started to pull out of you when he noticed your shaking had stopped, not wanting to overstimualte you or hurt you in any way.

He looked down at you, with the same cold eyes that glared at you with anger earlier that day, the anger now completly gone. Tilting his head as he looked over your fucked out body, he wouldve stared at you for the rest of the day if he didnt hear the sound of the main door being knocked on. The sound of that stupid friend of yours yelling about leaving his phone in your room, low and behold, his phone sat on your night stand. Prompting Tate to give you a parting kiss, and eventually leaving you alone in your bed, sweaty, fucked out and naked, oh and that guy yelling about his phone, fun.

[flow33didontsmoke]

when y/n does something so bad/embarrassing you have to facepalm and close your eyes for a minute

[poltoreveur]

I can’t fix him but I could fuck him.

[itshelia]

Taking anti-depressant pills?? Seeing a therapist??? Journaling???? No need babe, my fav writer just dropped another x reader fic.

[venusbyline]

i can fix him (no really i can)

[blac-ivy]

One thing golden era Wattpad writers had going for them was that they knew the importance of a buildup. I'm of the opinion that the sexual tension is WAY more satisfying to read than the actual sex and quite frankly there is a serious lack of non smutty writing.

Like I really miss reading fics/ x readers that start from scratch. Meeting the characters, initial reactions getting to know them, the tension the jealousy the TENSION the freaking tension.

Looking and looking away when they get spotted, touches that feel like they linger but perhaps they didn't and they're both so hot for each other that they think it's wishful thinking. And I don't mean just sweet sunshine romances, darker works can have a buildup too but it seems like so much is just about getting to the smut instead of the psychological aspect.

Bring back the build up!!!!!!!

[actually-mentally-ill]

sorry, did you say,

“toxic, dangerous, sexy af and could probably kill me at any given moment if they wanted”?

…

[the-chamber-of-hoes]

Not pleased with the lack of new fics for my fav characters (hyper fixations) lately. The withdrawals are eating me alive

[redroses07]

real

[spaghettispie]

🩶

[evanchantingpeters]

All my feminism goes out the window when I lay eyes on this man... Uff😬

[violet-harmon2011]

to my favorite serial killer, clown, cult leader, hairstylist, vampire, playwright, actor, hotel owner, lobster man, circus performer, zombie, frat boy, and mechanic <3

[poltoreveur]

“He’s a villain! You only like him because he’s hot.”

Okay and?

[itshelia]

Is it just me or everyone imagine their fav characters that they are obsessing over in real life???

Like I'll be at work and then I imagine that bitch sitting next to me, talking to me and admiring me while I FUCKING KNOW THAT I HAVENT KISSED A MALE SPECIES IN MY ENTIRE LIFE

I don't know if that's sign of a fucking mental problem or what but I swear if I'm even Slightly upset or tired of my life i WILL open tumblr and start imagining them or talking to them (aka my wall. It be sitting there like the fuck gurl im not your man)