#a part of me just does not allow myself to do so because you’re going to be exposing your own vulnerability and that’s huge for me

[asmallcafethatslove]

Looked up on my attachment style and reading about it makes me feel sooooo 😵‍💫 uneasy? Like why do I feel this way?

[vaguely-concerned]

My two cents on how much of Mind!Varric is Rook’s mind trying to fill the blank space and how much is Solas actively talking through a convenient blood magic paper doll of the mind: I think it's a mix of both, a truly collaborative psychosocial horrorshow if you would, but waaaay more towards the second. It feels too directed and tactical at times to be anything else. Rook's mind is willing to go along with the denial phase as far as it can fucking carry them to not have to face the grief and regret and does its part in papering over details that don’t make any sense, the way brains will strive to create coherent meaning even out of deeply confusing input, but to my understanding it's a collaborateur in how that plays out, not the instigator or control center. Solas is using it as a path to agency and to gather insight into Rook as a person unguarded as he can't count on in his own guise. (That stoic option that leads to him being like 'oh I see you're cautiously denying me access to your inner life. well. at least you still have Varric to talk to. y'know as an outlet :)'. You absolute BITCH Solas! That alone convinced me that he HAS to have an active hand in it on some level.)

My guess is that it takes considerable effort on Solas’ part to make Mind!Varric do anything more involved or complicated than seeming to sit up in bed and give casual commentary, and that’s why he keeps having eerie five minute shallow pep talks with you before he announces he conveniently needs a nap aaanyway good luck kid you got this haha. When he’s just spouting NPC lines from his bedrest, I’m ready to believe that could be Rook’s mind being allowed to improv lines for him more freely because it’s less about Solas trying to get something out of them or working an angle and more ‘Still here! Still totally alive and fine and the mentor figure you know and love and trust :) don’t even worry about it! Thankfully there is no war in Ba Sing Sei, as we all know’ upkeep work lol. Rook’s mind is allowed to set the tone of Varric, the outlines, but not always the content. 

AND, on a (beautifully fucked up) character psychology level, I feel like Solas is indulging in actually getting to be the good supportive mentor figure to Rook with one hand to assuage the guilt he feels about what he's done -- and what he's going to do -- to them with the other. Same internal logic as he uses in Trespasser about the Qun. ‘Almost everyone is going to die from the course of action I’m doggedly pursuing eventually. But at least I can make their last years happier and freer and kinder than they would have been otherwise. and that kind of makes up for it right. a little bit. doesn't it. doesn't that make it better at least. I need that to make it better)'. Did I really take your beloved mentor and friend from you if you don’t know yet that I did? Some philosophers would argue not really! So it’s probably almost ok actually. Isn’t it even a little noble that I’m taking all this grief and guilt on myself and shielding you for now. With undertones that I’m not sure he would realize himself (and might be mortified by if he did) that he is so incredibly lonely, and even a dishonest and indirect emotional connection is more than nothing when you’re that desperate. In this setup he gets idk. Both the control he craves so incredibly badly in relationships and over himself, and the scraps, the fading afterimages, of intimacy and warmth and companionship, even second hand. The one thing Solas and Rook agree on deep deep down is that they really wish Varric weren't gone. They're handshake memeing this in the saddest and most creepy way possible.

I think an important element too is that Solas needs Rook and their team to *succeed* —  up to a certain point. He needs someone to hold the two other elven mean girls off until he can get out of here. Ideally, in a perfect world, even do all the hard work of killing them so he can swoop in at the end and do his thing when both sides are exhausted and out of resources to stop him, and then Bob’s your uncle! Same logic as he was using with Corypheus, and after that worked out so well, too! King of choosing to never learn from a single solitary mistake he’s ever made even though i fully believe he could have the capacity to Fen’Harel <3 The underlying idea isn’t flawed, you see, it was just unforeseen circumstances getting in the way. This time for sure it’ll all work out the way I cleverly imagined it in my head beforehand. Cue By Talos this can’t be happening etc. in the form of a statue almost crushing him like a bug. 

So he's providing guidance and forging Rook into a leader from two angles: one Rook might not trust, and one they probably will. Shaping them into what he needs slowly and carefully. He’s helping you hone your team into their most effective state, as he might have done with his own agents back in the day, setting up his chess pieces even if he has to squint through two glimpsed realities to do it haha. Pincer maneuver of an insidious stealth mentor you never asked for. Also… at one point mind Varric gives you a whole little monologue about how Solas' problem is that he’s always seen his interpersonal connections as flaws and see where it’s landed him, all alone and the worst part? it hasn’t even worked. it’s all been for nothing he’s back where he began with nothing to show for it but his mistakes. Like...that has such strong 'uh okay happy to play your therapist from two rooms away here what the fuck kind of traumadump is this' energy to me, I’m not sure Rook like. Thinks that much about Solas as a private person. So much of Solas' self-loathing and futile insights into his own flaws seem to shine through in Mind!Varric's dialogue all the time — I just can't believe that there's no guiding hand behind it as it were. 

Most of all. I feel like people underestimate the degree to which Solas is incredibly funny. As in, he has a very consistent and recognizable sense of humour. It’s one of my very favourite things about him. We must remember — it is crucial that we always keep in mind — Orlesian accent and wig Solas from May The Dread Wolf Take You (my beloved, the explanation for why I love this dude even with the. All of the everything else. No one does it quite like him). He is not at all above doing things or adding little flourishes for his own obscure amusement, in fact that seems to me to be one of his most consistent traits. The Randy Dowager Quarterly comment Varric has? The ‘Maybe this is the Dread Wolf’s revenge. Forcing us to house sit for him’ thing? To Me this is 100% Solas amusing himself in his boring Fade jail surrounded by the screaming hellscape of all his regrets. Source: it came to me as divine revelation through pure vibes trust me bro 

If nothing else I find it much more narratively interesting personally if the connection between Rook and Solas really is that defenselessly intimate and entwined (and so unbalanced!), and the sense of violation and invasion and betrayal afterwards consequently all the more nauseatingly intense. Even if you kept him at arm’s length in the open, he’s been under your skin the whole time, looking around, gathering what he needs to destroy you, wearing the face of a friend. Regretfully, probably, but choosing to do it every step of the way anyway. (Sound familiar, Inquisitor? Solas doesn’t have that many tricks when you actually look at it, he keeps returning to old tried and true ones like a dog with a bone haha.) Maybe he even genuinely meant some of it as mercy, which only makes it so much worse. It makes his sin against his own core principles of autonomy and the freedom of all beings in mind, spirit and body so much more juicily grave if it’s something he pursues actively and consistently, rather than it half-falling into his lap as a happy accident mainly orchestrated by Rook’s own subconscious. Solas, too, is at his very lowest point, the closest to giving in and becoming his own antithesis fully that he’s ever been, and it makes the choice of whether you still reach out your hand to him one last time or not all the more impactful and difficult.

[sluttywonwoo]

as someone who lives with chronic back pain, this audio i stumbled across reminded me of this fantasy i have and i think san fits the script (a little too) perfectly

(heed the tags on the audio— it includes some kinks i stray away from in my writing that might be a turn off for some)

nsfw 18+ // mdni

“hi, baby.”

you dog-ear the page you’re on and set your book on the bedside table to give your boyfriend your full attention. “hi. good shower?”

“mhm,” san answers cheerfully. “i’m sorry i didn’t greet you properly when i first got home. i just needed to wash the day off of me first.”

“it’s okay, i know the feeling,” you assure him, stretching your arm out across the sheets for his hand.

he approaches the bed and takes your hand, squeezing comfortingly. “speaking of feelings, how are you feeling, my love? any better?”

you nod. “a little. still sore.”

san pouts. “i figured. i’m sorry, baby. is there anything i can do? do you want some tea? want me to get your other heating pad?”

“well….”

san perks up as you trail off. you almost never ask him for anything, even when you have these longer bouts of consistent pain, even though he’s always so eager to help.

“what is it? whatever it is, i’ll do it.”

you doubt he’ll feel that way when you tell him but-

“fuck me?”

your boyfriend’s smile falters but you swear you see his cock twitch traitorously beneath his towel. “except for that.”

“but you said-”

“you know we can’t,” san chides. “not when you’re hurting.”

“it’s not even that bad,” you insist.

“you’re lying.”

“but i want you.”

“so let me get you off like we’ve been doing,” he says, settling on the bed next to you.

he reaches between your knees to part them but you hold them together so that he can’t, even though it puts a strain on your back. san could easily overpower you if he wanted to, he often does when you’re feeling more like yourself, but when you’re like this… he’s overly gentle. it’s sweet, the way he treats you so delicately, but it gets frustrating when all you want him to do is the exact opposite.

san frowns. “baby…” you don’t budge. “you’re not going to let me?”

“i want your dick.”

“i know but it isn’t a good idea.”

“you don’t even have to go hard, you could just stick it in-”

“you’re unbelievable,” san mumbles, leaning forward to kiss your knee.

“is that a yes?”

he sighs, “we really shouldn’t…”

“you don’t want to?”

“it’s not about wanting to, baby. of course i want to. i always want to.”

“it doesn’t seem like it,” you mutter.

san pinches the bridge of his nose and groans. “that’s because i’m trying to think about what’s best for you. i… i know myself and i know that if i’m not careful i could make your pain worse.”

your expression softens and you release the tension from your legs, allowing san to spread them. he looks up at you in surprise.

“i don’t deserve you,” you say pitifully, then before san can deny it, "i just miss you. it's been so long."

he rubs your thigh soothingly. "i know, baby. i miss you too. do you know how hard it is to sit here and not give you what you want? especially when what you want is..." he gulps, "me... inside of you. god, even just saying it is making me hard."

"you were already hard," you point out.

"it's making me harder," he clarifies.

"you know what would help with that?"

san glares at you. "a cold shower?"

"no-"

"yeah, i know," he sighs, defeated.

"can we try?" you ask, bringing his hand further up your thigh.

his fingers flex against the plush of your inner thigh in restraint, lips pursed in thought.

"you just want me to put it in?"

"well, i want you to fuck me but i'll settle for that."

san scoffs. "promise you'll tell me if it hurts?"

"promise."

"want me to grab a condom?"

"no, just take the towel off."

"such a romantic," he teases as he slips it from his waist.

he helps you get your panties off, making you sit all the way up instead of simply arching your back so he can pull the fabric from underneath you.

"you're sure you don't want me to just eat you out?" he asks, swallowing thickly, gaze fixed between your legs.

"you can eat your cum out of me if you really want to."

"don't threaten me with a good time," san murmurs as he positions himself on top of you, pressing a kiss to your cheek as thanks. he takes your hand in one of his and lines himself up with the other. "remember, you promised to tell me if it hurts."

"i know, i promise."

"like, if it hurts at all. even just a little bit."

"i will!"

"and i mean it-"

"babe! don't you trust me?"

san sighs, blowing his bangs out of his eyes. "i do, of course i do. but i also know you, and i know you won't say anything if it means i get to feel good." you make a face. he had you there. "see? i know you, baby."

"ok, but i promise i'll tell you. pinky promise." you even offer him your pinky, which he loops around his own and kisses to seal. "so can you please put your cock inside of me?"

"so impatient," san mutters to himself. he pushes in the tiniest bit, though, just the head to shut you up. "shit, you're so wet- jesus fucking christ."

"keep going," you beg, "please, more."

"yeah baby, i will, i will... but we're not fucking, alright? just putting it in. f-fuck, i don't think i could last if we did fuck. i don't know if i can last just doing this, it's been so long since i felt you..."

it's also been so long that he feels bigger than you remember and you start to tear up as soon as he's more than an inch inside. you can tell it's taking all of his self control to go this slow. his hips stutter when you clench around him for the first time and he has to squeeze his eyes shut and then stare at the ceiling for a few seconds to gather himself.

but then he looks back down at you and sees you crying and immediately panics.

"oh my god, it hurts, doesn't it? i knew this was a bad idea. i'm so sorry, baby-"

"no! no, it feels good, sannie. i promise. it feels good."

he looks like he doesn't fully believe you but then you tighten around him again and he gives in, cursing as bottoms out.

you lay like that together for a few moments before you start to get impatient again. you really thought you could handle just cockwarming him but being full of him only made you needier. shocking.

"how is it, baby?" san whispers, likely to try and hide the shakiness in his voice. "this what you needed?"

you sniffle and nod. "but i want more," you admit.

san mumbles your name in warning but you're already too far gone.

"please? please fuck me, please fuck me," you're begging and it's a little pathetic but you can't bring yourself to care. "please just a little bit, just a tiny bit."

"we agreed," he reminds you.

"i know but i need more," you whine, "i know you need more too, i can feel you pulsing inside of me... please, baby, i want to cum on your cock so bad."

your boyfriend hangs his head. "i don't know if i can," he confesses.

"you won't hurt me."

"no, i mean, i'm already so close that i don't know if i'll be able to make you cum first if i start moving- fuck, why did me admitting that make you wetter?"

"because i love you?" you try.

"you love that i'm weak for you," he amends.

"two things can be true."

san tightens his jaw and shakes his head down at you as he draws his hips back a fraction of what he normally would and pushes them forward again, building an agonizingly slow but steady pace. "you're lucky i love you too."

[cutielando]

hold me? | charles leclerc

synopsis: in which he only wants you to hold him

a/n: based on this request!

my masterlist

It’s a quiet, overcast afternoon in Monaco, the kind where the skies seem to mirror the feelings of those under them. The rain has been falling steadily since morning, a soft patter against the windows filling the silence in your apartment. Normally, you’d find the sound soothing, but today it seems to add to the heaviness hanging in the air.

Charles has been uncharacteristically quiet all day. You noticed it during breakfast, where his usual playful banter was replaced with absent nods and distracted glances. He barely touched his coffee, something he never does, and the light in his eyes seemed dulled.

Now, he’s sprawled on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, scrolling aimlessly through his phone. His posture is slouched, and every now and then, he lets out a sigh that tugs at your heart.

From the kitchen, you watch him for a moment, your fingers curling around the warm mug of tea you made for him. You can tell he’s carrying something heavy, the kind of weight he’s too stubborn to share unless coaxed.

Taking a deep breath, you walk over and set the tea on the coffee table, then perch on the armrest of the couch beside him.

“Charles,” you call softly.

He glances up at you, his honey-brown eyes tired and unfocused.

“Hmm?”

You reach out to smooth the blanket over his lap, a small gesture of care.

“I brought you some tea,” you say gently, trying not to push too much too soon.

“Merci,” he murmurs, his voice quiet, almost flat.

He takes the mug but doesn’t drink, instead staring into the steam as if lost in thought.

You slip onto the couch beside him, leaning in so your knee brushes his.

“You’ve been quiet today,” you say carefully, not wanting to overwhelm him. “Do you want to talk about what’s on your mind?”

He hesitates, his lips parting before he shakes his head slightly. But the way his shoulders slump tells you he does—it’s just hard for him to find the words.

Gently, you place your hand on his arm, grounding him.

“It’s okay,” you assure him. “Take your time.”

He sighs, setting the tea back on the table before leaning back against the couch. His gaze fixes on the ceiling, and for a moment, the only sound is the rain outside.

“Racing has been... tough lately,” he finally admits, his voice heavy with frustration. “I feel like I’m not good enough. Like no matter how hard I try, it’s never enough. The mistakes, the pressure, the expectations, it’s all piling up.”

He pauses, running a hand through his hair.

“Sometimes I think... I’m letting everyone down. The team, the fans, even myself.”

Hearing the raw vulnerability in his voice makes your chest ache. You shift closer, sliding your arms around him without hesitation.

At first, he tenses, but then he melts into your embrace, his head finding its place on your shoulder.

“Charles,” you whisper, your fingers stroking through his soft curls, “you’re allowed to feel this way. You carry so much on your shoulders, and it’s okay to admit when it feels too heavy. But I need you to know that you’re not letting anyone down. Not your team, not your fans, and definitely not me.”

His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer. He holds you like he’s afraid to let go, his breath warm against your neck.

“You always know what to say,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

You pull back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. His eyes are glistening, and there’s a vulnerability there that he rarely shows. Gently, you cup his face, brushing your thumb along his cheek.

“I know what to say because I see you,” you say softly. “Not just Charles Leclerc, the racing driver, but Charles, the person I love. You don’t have to be perfect for me. You’re enough, just as you are.”

A tear escapes, and he quickly swipes it away, giving you a small, grateful smile.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he whispers.

You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, lingering for a moment.

“Lucky for you, you’ll never have to find out,” you tease lightly, earning a soft chuckle from him.

For the rest of the afternoon, you stay like that, tangled together on the couch. At one point, he shifts to rest his head in your lap, and you run your fingers through his hair, gently massaging his scalp. He lets out a content sigh, his body fully relaxed for the first time in days.

When he drifts off to sleep, you stay still, watching the way his lips curve into the faintest smile. The rain outside begins to let up, but the calm in your heart remains, knowing that, for now, he’s at peace, and that you’ll always be there to help him find his way back to it.

No matter what.

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𝖈𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖎𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖜𝖊𝖇

[3: “aww, you cheating’ on me?”]

tlou m.list | series m.list

spider!man ellie x reader

Ellie is feeling conflicted, on one hand she wants to tell you that she is Spider-Man but on the other hand, talking to you as ‘Spidey’ is just so much easier.. also, would you even like her as Ellie, could you like her without her being Spider-Man?

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The next morning, following the kiss, Ellie woke up with a headache, she couldn’t tell if it was from the lack of sleep, dehydration, or the fact that she kissed you— er, rather you kissed her but same difference.

Tommy and Maria weren’t home yet and Ellie didn’t have class until noon, so she decided to wake herself up by going for a lap around the city. She slipped on her suit, frowning under the mask while looking at herself in the mirror.

“Geez, this suit really does make me look flat” she sighed as she patted her chest, “Whatever..”

While most people enjoyed going for a jog or walk around the block, Ellie enjoyed swinging from rooftop to rooftop, she loved feeling the cold hair hit her skin through the surprisingly breathable fabric of her suit. Not to mention, she enjoyed the free perks that came with it, sometimes the owners of bakeries or cafes would wave her down and give her a hot cup of coffee (in a thermos of course) and a nice, sweet pastry or savoury breakfast sandwich to thank her for keeping the neighbourhood safe. Even if the pigs— um, I mean police didn’t like her, she was satisfied enough with gratitude from the rest of the city.

Ellie loved this part of her morning, children waving from the bus, the free coffee, and the music blaring through her airpods, well, she used to love it.. lately, something strange had been happening. No matter where she was in the city, she found herself somehow at your apartment, actually the building across from it. She didn’t really understand why she was so attracted to this place, maybe it was just force of habit? I mean, she was coming over every other night now, yeah, that had to be it.

This particular morning, she ended up right in front of it again. Her legs dangled from the rooftop as she sipped her coffee, her mask was lifted just enough to allow it.

“God, I should be dropping myself off at the station… I feel like a stalker,” she mumbled against the rim of the bottle, her eyes never leaving your balcony doors.

You were just waking up, you must have worked a late shift at that diner last night, Ellie thinks, she came to find out that not only do you work as a model, you double as a waitress.. it couldn’t stop her from wondering about where your family was in all this.

You stretched your arms and forced yourself out of your bed, the warm blankets wrapped around you as if they were pleasing you to come back to bed.

Ellie had your routine memorized by now. FIrst, you go to the restroom, brush your teeth, then came your skincare routine, you usually had something small for breakfast, then browsed on your phone for a bit or called your friend, then got ready for the day. This day was no different except for one little thing.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Ah, hey Ellie,” you smiled warmly at the girl in front of you, her hair was messy almost like she had just gotten off a rollercoaster, “You’re right on time! I literally just finished getting ready haha.”

Ellie chuckled and rubbed the back of her neck, “Y-yeah, funny.”

Today, the two of you were spicing up your tutoring routine by studying in the morning because Ellie said she couldn’t do night for awhile.

“Ready to go,” you ask her, you were hoping to eat at this nearby cafe.

She nods and with that, the two of you make your way downstairs and through the buzzing city.

The two of you got a table in the corner after you placed your orders, Ellie studied your face carefully, you didn’t look phased at all by last night, “So, you get home okay last night?”

You nod but Ellie could see a faint blush creeping up your neck, “Y-yeah..”

Ellie’s smirk was hidden by her coffee cup, she was glad that she had left an impression on you,”Hm, that’s good.”

Although, Ellie was happy that she was the one making you blush, she knew that it was actually Spider-Man who made you blush which was what frustrated her. Could she ever make you blush like that..?

The rest of the session went smoothly but Ellie seemed more quiet than usual. Then after the two of you paid and left, she gave you a quick ‘bye’ before hopping on her skateboard and weaving her way through the crowded streets.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

That evening, you went to your friend Gwen’s house, you considered telling her all about how you kissed Spider-man but you decided against it, she might think that you’re lying for attention, I mean, you would think that too. So instead, you told her all about how Ellie was being so distant today.

“She totally likes you,” Gwen said as she popped a skittle into her mouth, “Remember, that’s what Abby did at first, too?”

You grimaced at the mention of your ex. Abby and you dated on and off for the first two years of college. When you first met her, she was.. nice.. (not). The two of you hooked up on the first night or orientation and from that night on and then from there, you kinda jumped into a relationship. It was very sweet and soft at first but as time went on, Abby began acting like a complete asshole. SInce joining the lacrosse team her ego was being stroked daily, by fan girls, her coach, and her team (even going as far as giving her the nickname ‘Flash’) which made her turn into a total egomaniac. You couldn’t stand being with her anymore so you broke it off, for awhile she’d stalk you, threaten girls who dare talk to you, and try to get her father’s company to hire you as an intern so that she could get closer to you.

“Ugh, Abby…” you took a sip of your beer, “Have you heard anything about her lately?”

Gwen shakes her head, “Nah, after that green goblin attack, no one has gotten in contact with her. Although, Harry tells me that he visited her the other day and she had a pretty broken arm but for the most part was okay, but she kept going on and on about Spider-Man and the fact that her dad died, I think that she’s blaming it on Spider, but I don’t know haha.”

You solemnly nod, even though you didn’t like her that much anymore, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness. Abby was an only child and her mom died when she was really young, so she really had nobody to rely on..

You didn’t want to be a downer so you pushed her out of your mind.

Meanwhile, green eyes were lingering on you from outside.

I should really be fighting a bad guy right now but can’t get you outta my mind, Ellie thought.

A good ten minutes or so went by and you left Gwen’s house, the rain beating the ground once again. Gwen’s apartment wasn’t that far from yours so you decided to walk. The cold rain felt good against your warm skin, you wondered what Ellie was up to, you should call her.

“Hello?” A raspy, exasperated voice comes from the other side.

“H-hey, Ellie,” you slurred out, “Can I come over?”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“God, you’re so fuckin’ wet,” Ellie says as she hands you a towel to dry your hair with.

“Thanks,” the walk from Gwens place to Ellies sobered you up and now you kept thinking to yourself ‘what the fuck am I doing here??’

Ellie nods and leans against the doorframe to her bedroom, “So… what’s up Y/n?”

You blush a bit, “N-nothin.. just wanted to say hi..”

She chuckles, “You came all the way here just to say hi? Must’ve really wanted to say hi, huh?”

Her teasing causes you to blush again, “Y-yeah, fuck, sorry this was dumb, I’ll lea—.”

Just as you’re making your way to the door, Ellie grabs your hand and pulls you closer, you’re now standing between her legs. Her green eye’s gaze up at you, “Nah, don’t leave..”

Your could feel your face going red and your heart beating faster, Ellie took another step closer to you, you could feel her breath against your skin.

Ellie didn’t know what was coming over her, for some reason when she was around you her spidey senses went dull and all rational thinking went out the window. Without a second to think, she was pinning you against the wall and her tongue was exploring the inside of your mouth. She was kissing you like she wanted to devour you whole, her hands almost painfully gripping your waist and pulling you into her lap, your hair tangled in her damp hair and her knee in between your pretty legs.

You whimpered a bit, the pressure of her knee against your cunt sent shivers down your spine. Hearing your sweet whimper, she pressed her leg up a bit more into you.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” Ellie mumbles against the skin of your neck.

What does that mean? Whatever.. you can’t think straight when her mouth is hitting all the sensitive parts of your neck.

You had no idea Ellie was so masterful, you had assumed that she was nerdy virgin. You never would’ve guessed that this was the same girl who blushes over your teasing and could only ever make eye contact with you through the lens of a camera. Her kiss felt weirdly familiar and made your knees buckle, making you crave more.

“C-can we take this to your room?” You whimper out, pulling yourself away from Ellie so you can gaze into her pretty eyes.

Her eyes were full of animalistic need but her words betrayed her, “Actually.. n-no.. sorry, I should get to sleep.. It’s late and don’t you have a shift at Ma and Pop’s Diner?”

Your face dropped.. how could her eyes be so full of hunger but her voice full of conflicting, “O-oh, okay.. yeah.”

You grabbed your coat and ventured into the rainy night once more.

Again, there were no taxies and your feet hurt like hell from the stupid heels you were wearing.

“Gotta love New York,” you sarcastically muttered under your breath as you made your way down the street, passing the same alley where you had that amazing kiss, you sigh. What was up with everyone leaving you after one kiss??

Even though your feet hurt, you did not feel like almost getting murdered so you avoided the alley, only for you to forget your lesson and make your way down another alley a few blocks down. It was a little more it and was behind a church so it should be safe, you thought to yourself

The single light in the alley flickered like a candle, making you a little more anxious almost like you thought that a single gust of wind would make the electric lightbulb flicker out.

As you trudged through the alley, your mind couldn’t help but drift back to Ellie.. what was up with her? First, she pushes you away and now she, obviously, wants to fuck you but is telling you to get out? You sigh, tears welling up in your eyes, not because you were sad but mainly because you were frustrated and humiliated.

“What’s wrong?” After you left, Ellie decided to make sure that you got back to your apartment safely, I mean, it was the least she could do, right?

You whip around, your face now mere inches from that familiar masked figures.

You gasp a bit, “I-It’s you, again..”

“You say that a lot,” Spider-Man chuckles and releases himself from his web, “So.. what’s got this pretty girl down in the dumps, hm?”

You wipe a tear from your face, “I-It’s nothin’, just girl trouble..”

“Aww, you cheatin’ on me,” he teases, you know he’s only joking but a blush creeps onto your cheeks, “That’s not very nice.”

“I-I’d never do that to you,” you attempt to tease him back but the stutter in your words making you sound a little to genuine.

“So, who’s the lucky lady,” he hums out, “Come on, you can tell good ol’ Spidey.”

“Oh.. I don’t know about lucky but…. S-she’s a girl in my biology class at NYU, she’s really smart and funny, a little awkward and nerdy—,” ‘Ouch, Ellie thinks to herself, “ but I don’t know.. we were making out and then she forces me out of her apartment, well, not forced but it felt like it? I don’t know, it was really embarrassing and—.”

“I-I’m sure she had her reasons!”

You frown, “Oh, yeah? Like what?”

Crickets.

“Wanna see somethin’ cool?” He said, obviously trying to deflect.

Before you could say yes, he wraps his arm around your waist and the two of you slingshot into the air, your arms hanging tightly around his neck. The rain stopped and the wet city passed underneath your feet, it looked like a tiny glowing ant colony. The night breeze made you shutter a bit and the feeling of Spidey’s warmth made you want to snuggle further into him, he smelled of.. pine and.. you couldn’t place it but a very familiar cologne…

Spidey takes you to a church in the heart of the city, it’s architecture very gothic with a bell on the top, that’s where he takes you. There’s a stone canopy above the bell, allowing for the two of you to sit somewhere dry.

“I like to come here when I’m feeling bad about things,” he collapses onto the ground, chest heaving, he’s obviously not used to swinging around with a person on his hip for extended periods of time.

“It’s nice,” you sit next to him and gaze up into the gigantic bell.

For awhile, you forget all about Ellie, your mind focused on the hero in front of you. The two of you talk about everything and anything, about spiders, of course, the crime problem, and finally, you reach the topic of music which seems to get him going.

You pull your phone out and the two of you listen to music for a bit, he seems to really be enjoying it, it’s almost like he’s never had anyone to talk to about this, you think for a bit.

Just as you’re about to play another song, you see rays of sunshine run onto your skin.

“Shit, mornin’ already,” Spidey sits up, covering his eyes with his arm, “Guess, I should get you home.”

You frown but nod, and the two of you make your way through the city, once again.

Reaching your apartment, you had given him directions, the two of you stand awkwardly on the roof.

“Thanks for cheering me up.. you really are ‘friendly,’ huh?” you joke.

“Yeah, well, y’know, gotta live up to the name.” he chuckles.

You smile, “Well… see ya, later Spidey.”

Once you’re inside your apartment, you close your door and throw yourself onto your bed, giggling and kicking your feet.

You let out content sigh, what a night.. the events of it flash through your mind, the way his laugh sounds, how excited he got talking about music, and…. wait…

“Am I crazy or does Spider-Man have boobs?”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

part four here!

taglist: @elliecoochieeater @wavesgocrash @g3latin @elliesflowersblog

[spectersgf]

— driver's seat storm chasing 𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

pairing: tyler owens × reader 

summary: he was about to take off again, chase another storm, leave you worrying for hours upon hours. the least he could do was give you a parting gift.

warnings: SMUT! kinda angsty a little, cute yeehaw banter, cowgirlisms, hair pull, ass smack, titty suck. all the good stuff.

wordcount: 3.2k

a/n: watched twisters literally two days ago, had this thought, here we are. not proofread at all (as always, soz) but filled with passion (and horny)

(if you want to be tagged in future fics or if you have any requests, let me know! for my other fics, here's my masterlist!)

"oh, you're such a prick, tyler owens!"

you were shouting at your best friend, which was a regular occurrence due to his dangerous passion. tyler was a professional 'tornado wrangler' which was his idiotic way of saying he chased tornadoes for the sake of content creation. you knew it went much deeper than that for him; this was his passion and he was smart and knew so much about storms, but that doesn't mean he wasn't stupid and reckless.

he had just come back from a particularly dangerous storm, one that left you more worried for his safety than ever before. you cried seeing him come back to town and fretted over his injuries and bruises, begging him to stop and not go again.

according to what he just told you, your begging was pointless.

he was about to take off again, chase another storm, put himself back in harm's way. leave you worrying for hours upon hours, shaking until he'd return.

"do i mean nothing to you? does my begging and pleading mean nothing?" your voice was strained but you didn't lower your volume, desperate for him to see your anguish.

"you know that's not the case, darlin', but storm chasing is my life. you know that better than anyone." his tone was much steadier than yours, and his comments were entirely reasonable. you knew how much of his time he dedicated to his passion, but that didn't stop your frustration.

"don't play that fucking card with me, ty. it's not even been 48 hours since i thought you'd died, and now you're up and leaving again!" your anger had subsided and your tone had softened, now showing vulnerability and hurt. your shoulders sagged and you turned away from him, tears that you didn't want him to see stinging your eyes.

"y/n..." his voice trailed off, unsure if he was supposed to move to comfort you or give you space.

“you don’t understand what it does to me to see you walk out that door, ty. every single time i’m stuck asking myself if today’s the day i lose my best friend. and i know you’re careful and you know your stuff and you’re basically a pro but sometimes i can’t even bring myself to watch the streams and the videos because i’m so scared.” you rambled your confession, back still turned away from him but you’d started pacing. when you finished speaking, you turned to face him, eyes pleading. “i’m not asking you to stop. i’d never ask you to quit your passion. i just wish you’d understand from my perspective.”

"i'm sorry," he started, but you knew where his apology was headed. "but i have to do this. this is my life, and i'm helping people by doing this."

your tear-filled gaze met his as he spoke, and the look of sincerity on his face made you cave, as usual. "fine, go. it's not like i could've stopped you."

you watched him pick up his hat and place it easily on his head as he turned to walk away. he opened the door but turned before heading out. "you know i love you, y/n," he said quietly, sounding almost defeated.

his words struck you but before you could say anything, he was out the door. for a couple of minutes you stood in place, stunned at his proclamation. when you finally snapped out of your shock, you walked out the door, following behind him as he walked to his truck.

it had started to rain and the water caused his shirt to stick to him like a second skin, but you didn't allow yourself any time to ogle his physique. you reached out and grabbed his arm, feeling his cold skin against your warm touch. you pulled his arm, forcing him to turn and face you as you seethed.

"love me how?" you asked, obviously distressed. the rain was making your hair to stick to your face but you didn't care; all you cared about was the man in front of you. your best friend. "love me how, tyler?"

"y/n..." for the second time today his voice trailed off after saying your name like that and it infuriated you. your face burned from embarrassment and before you had fully processed your reaction, you slapped him.

when he turned his head back to look at you again, his eyes were swimming with hurt. you loved his eyes. you hated seeing them like this. but all you could focus on was your own hurt. after years of being his best friend but craving more, and years of casual touches and flirting and cuddling and rumours in your small town, this is what it had come to. a halfway confession.

"fuck you," you spit before turning away to walk back inside.

this time, it was tyler who reached out to grab you. his big hand encased your bicep and forced you to face him again. before you could say anything, he spun you around so that you were pinned against the door of his truck.

"what the fuck is your probl–" your words were abruptly cut off when he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. you stood still in shock for a few seconds before melting into him, one hand on the junction between his neck and shoulder, the other hand on his bicep. meanwhile, he had one hand on your waist and the other held your face, fingers splaying across your cheek and neck. you kissed him back with passion and vigour, easily letting his tongue explore your mouth for the first time.

your hands snakes upwards, pulling his hat off his head and slipping it onto yours while your free hand fisted his hair, threading your fingers through his locks. his hand trailed from your waist to your ass as he pulled away from your kiss for a second.

"you sure you wanna wear my hat, darlin'?" he panted, raising one cocky eyebrow as his eyes searched yours.

"wear the hat, ride the cowboy, right?" you asked, smirking confidently. he immediately matched your facial expression, smirking in return, but his eyes twinkled with joy and amusement.

tyler was much taller than you and evidently he was starting to see your height difference as an issue, since he brought his other hand down to your ass and lifted you, urging your legs around his waist and bringing you face to face. he kissed you again, just a quick kiss, before asking, "so, cowgirl. where are we doing this?"

"if i'm the cowgirl, are you my wild stallion?" you teased playfully, smiling as you looked at him affectionately. after seeing the fiery look in his eyes, you were unable to resist, and you pulled his mouth to yours once again, this kiss more intense than the last. you messily pulled his bottom lip into your mouth and sucked on it, followed by a gentle bite, before pulling away and desperately kissing down his neck. "i want you in your truck. driver's seat," you murmured against his skin.

before tyler was able to haul you into his truck, you detached yourself from him. once your feet were safely back on the ground, you eagerly grabbed the hem of his soaked t-shirt and peeled it off his tanned torso, shamelessly admiring his body as you did. you dragged your nails across his toned abdomen and brought your mouth to his chest, sucking and biting at his skin. you could barely register his groan, only able to focus on his body and being able to maintain skin-to-skin contact with him.

tyler pulled you away from him by gently tugging on your hair and you looked at him quizzically. "ty, what the hell?"

"enough teasing, cowgirl. time to ride the stallion," he told you, causing you both to erupt in a fit of giggles.

"never say that again, tyler," you replied, leaning up to peck him quickly.

he picked you up briefly and immediately put you down in a spot away from the driver's side door and swiftly got comfortable in his van, away from the cold rain. while he did so, you made quick work of unbuttoning your flannel shirt, leaving you in just a lacy, sheer bra and jeans. and his hat. once he was seated, tyler gave you a thorough once-over, letting out a low whistle as he did.

"somebody call for a ride?" his playful tone was supplemented by his signature cheeky smile, but you rolled your eyes at his comment.

"god, you're so fuckin' corny."

you boosted yourself into the truck, situating yourself easily on his lap. you shuffled around to get comfortable on tyler's lap and were rewarded with a strained groan. this time it was you giving him a cheeky smile followed by a quick roll of your hips over his. he placed his hands firmly on your waist, fingers dipping into your jeans and stopping your movements.

"keep that up and this'll be over before it started, sweetheart," he told you, voice strained and you could tell it was from arousal. you watched his mouth as he spoke and, unable to resist him, you leaned in and kissed him again. your almost bare chest was pressed against his and your hands roamed his skin, picking up water droplets as they went. the feel of his toned muscle under your hands caused you to moan into his mouth, turning tyler on even more.

his hands wound into your hair, all the way up to the root, and he tugged lightly. you whimpered and dragged your hips over his, and when tyler pulled away from your kiss you unconsciously followed his movement. tyler clicked his tongue in condescending disapproval but smirked at your reaction to him.

“needy for me, baby?” he asked mockingly, one hand on your hips to halt your movement again, the other still tangled in your hair.. you nodded your response, not trusting yourself to speak in your current state. “words, sweetheart. what do you need?”

you whined but when you realised he wasn’t going to do anything until you spelled it out for him, you let out an exasperated huff. “need you to fuck me.”

tyler laughed affectionately at your desperation. “there you go, sweetheart. that’s what i like to hear.” you preened from his praise, craving to receive it again. with the hand that was on your hips, he undid the button of your jeans and pulled the zipper down with a quiet hiss. instead of pulling down the restrictive fabric like you expected, he slipped his hand into your barely-existent underwear and stroked with a featherlike touch. 

“this all for me?” he asked as he dragged a finger through your arousal; you were soaked and his teasing tone was only making it worse. you dropped your head onto his shoulder and tried to slyly jerk your hips forward, though you were unable to. “patience, baby. i’ve chased this storm so long, now let me enjoy it.”

his words jolted you caused a moan to fall from your mouth. your skin was feverish despite the biting cold and you were becoming increasingly desperate. “next time, please, tyler. i need you inside me, please,” you begged, mouth against his tan skin. 

he didn’t say anything in response, only chuckled quietly to himself as he removed his hand from your underwear. he brought his hand up to your mouth and you looked him in the eye as you took one finger, the one that had been touching you, into your mouth and sucked. you bobbed your head back and forth for just a few seconds and hummed quietly around the digit in your mouth before releasing it and pulling tyler’s mouth to yours in a heated kiss, urging him to taste you from your own mouth. 

“god, if we weren’t in my truck right now i’d have my mouth on your sweet cunt,” he grumbled.

“don’t care, need your cock inside me.” without breaking your kiss, you pushed your jeans down over your hips but only to your knees. “i’m ready, you know i’m ready, what are we waiting for?” you asked frantically. you started to paw at his stupid belt but his hands covered yours, stopping you from getting to what you were craving.

“are you sure? we can’t go back after this and you know it.” his eyes were swimming with concern as he spoke, searching yours for any indication of your feelings. 

you moved one hand to his face, placing it on his cheek and stroking his cheekbone delicately with your thumb. “i want this. i have for a longass time. i’ve felt it for so long, and now i’m finally chasing it. are you chasing it with me?” your words were entirely sincere and this was obvious to tyler, especially when you looked in his eyes and deep into his soul.

“using my own words against me?” he teased, breaking the tension in a charming way that only he could pull off. “i’m with you.” his words were equally sincere, though you could sense the double meaning. you weren’t distressed by it; his way of telling you how he was feeling made your heart swell and added to your already dripping arousal.

you resumed your work on removing his belt, followed by unbuttoning his jeans and pulling the zipper. tyler could only watch cockily as you did so, both hands behind his head, muscles flexing, as he admired your naked beauty. jeans pulled down, only a sheer bra covering your breasts, and his hat on your head.

“go on, baby. take me out; it’s all yours.”

his words empowered you and you happily obliged, appreciating his quiet hiss as you made contact with his skin once again. you tunnel visioned on his thick cock in your hand, swiping your thumb over the tip and pumping it once, twice, three times. tyler watched your every moment and facial expression, and he could see you practically salivating, bringing a wide and cocky smirk to his face. “another time,” he murmured despite his better opinion of letting you take him in your mouth the way you so obviously craved. you simply nodded in agreement, seemingly in a trance as you eyed the way your smaller hand wrapped around his girth. 

the feeling of his hands on your hips gently urging you forwards and upwards snapped you out of your dreamlike state but you didn’t resist his manhandling; instead, you welcomed the way he took control of the situation. took control of you. 

before proceeding further he looked you in the eyes again, showing that same sincerity and vulnerability, silently asking ‘are you sure you’re sure?’. you smiled at the gesture, appreciative of his concern, and nodded. your eyes sparkled with excitement as you brought your bottom lip between your teeth and reached behind you to guide tyler’s hard cock into your wetness. the pair of you moaned in tandem as you sunk down on him, fitting together perfectly. 

“c’mere, cowgirl,” he murmured, voice heavy with arousal. you shifted forward with him inside you, pulling a groan from deep within his chest as he pulled you in for another kiss. the combination of his searing kiss and the way he filled you up was electrifying. your entire body moved on its own accord, as if you had come alive for the first time; your mouth worked against his and you circled your hips against his and you were consumed entirely by him. 

one of his hands pawed at your ass while the other worked on removing your bra. when he did finally get your bra unhooked, it was practically ripped off your body and thrown to the backseat. tyler’s lips reluctantly left yours but they immediately attached to your right breast, with his hand squeezing the left. he sucked a harsh mark into the flesh before his mouth circled your peaked nipple, sucking eagerly before rolling it gently between his teeth. 

“you have no idea how desperate i’ve been to get my mouth on your pretty tits, sweetheart,” he mumbled against you. his words caused your hips to stutter against his as you rode him, hitting your sweet spot and forcing a high pitched moan from you. 

“i need you to do it, ty,” you whimpered, hungry for him to take control again.

“such a good girl, telling me what you need.” his praise made you glow and you unconsciously clenched your muscles around him.

his grip on your ass tightened slightly before he slapped it, deliciously stinging your skin. you moaned and jerked forward again and your head immediately fell backwards, eyes rolling back. 

“god, y/n, you’re a walking turn on,” he moaned, hips starting to buck as he fucked into you. “you have no fuckin’ idea what you do to me. the number of times i’ve wanted to do this with you right here, audience be damned. the way i crave the taste of your sweet cunt on my tongue. having to stop myself from smacking your ass or squeezing your tits whenever you’re in those tiny bikinis or scraps of fabric that you call pyjamas. and now you’re mine and we can do all of it.”

you moaned and whimpered pathetically throughout tyler’s speech, the words that you were longing to hear from him finally being voiced while he fucked you. 

“i’m close,” you mumbled, bringing your hand to your mouth to muffle your noises. “need you to fill me up.”

his eyes squeezed shut due to your muffled words and he pulled your hand away from your mouth. “i’ll give you whatever you need, baby, but i need to hear you when i do,” he told you, linking your fingers together and resting your joined hands on his glistening chest. “cum for me, sweet girl. cum on my cock, let me feel you.”

his words tipped you over the edge and your muscles spasmed around him as you reached your climax, moaning his name as you did. tyler followed suit, filling you upon your request. 

“fuck, y/n,” he groaned, pulling your chest to his and kissing you again, sweetly this time despite your expectations.

the pair of you were a panting, sweaty mess when you both finished, but you didn’t break any of your attachments. he didn’t pull out of you, and he didn’t let you loosen your embrace.

“i guess you could say i wrangled your tornado, hm?” 

“you did not say that to me while i have your dick and cum inside me right now, tyler owens.”

“c’mon, darlin’, you obviously like my lines,” he teased, smiling sweet and sincere.

“more than just your lines. i like you,” you confessed, voice quiet and shy out of fear of rejection.

“yeah? you got a li’l crush on me?” his playful and teasing tone made you smile. dissipating any worries you had. this was the boy you were falling for. 

“just a little one. really, i’m just here for your truck.” the banter between the two of you was light and easy, something that you both always appreciated about each other. you clicked. 

“yeah, cowgirl, i know how you feel about my truck.”

you giggled at his response and kissed the bare, warm skin on his shoulder.

“you’re the most beautiful storm i’ve chased, y/n.” he looked into your eyes as he spoke, voice quiet as if speaking too loud would disrupt the moment.

“that’s funny. because you’re the sun coming up after the storm.”

WHEW! first tyler fic done bbz<333 more to come, requests are open HERE! if you want to be tagged in future fics lmk, please tell me what you think, even if you think i should never write again ok thank u bye ily bye

taglist: @ronsbadidea

[emchante]

kinktober | proving his worth - d.r.

day 1 - praise kink | kinktober masterlist

summary: after another rough race with vcarb, daniel seeks comfort in you back at the hotel. conversations arise about his uncertainty with everything about himself-- his driving and looks being a big factor. it's your job to prove the thoughts wrong.

WARNINGS: 18+ content, sub!daniel, dirty talk, praise kink, use of good boy, hair pulling.

w.c: 1.5k

a/n: happy october! i'm excited to share these blurbs with you all, and i hope you enjoy them. let me know your thoughts via reblog, comment or ask, i love hearing from you guys.

your thighs cradle daniel’s hips as you slowly move atop of him. his hands are on you as his fingers grip your soft skin tightly, with just enough desperation to reveal the weight of his emotions. his eyes, usually so filled with confidence and optimism, are clouded with something different now– doubt, frustration, the heavy weight of everything that has yet to fall from his mouth.

the tension that fills the room is almost suffocating, and a lot of it is radiating from daniel; his forehead pressed against your own, a shaky breath escaping his pouty lips. the only noises that fill the room is the sounds of yours and daniel’s skin hitting against one another, and the heavy breaths from daniel. that is, until he finally speaks up. “i just.. don’t feel like myself anymore,” daniel admits lowly, voice thick with emotion. his eyes land on his fingers that are absentmindedly tracing patterns on your soft hips. “everything feels wrong. maybe it’s me.” you run your fingers through his sweaty curls, tugging on them gently as you tilt his head back so you can see his face. you lean in and place a sweet kiss on his nose, before moving to place another on his lips. “don’t say that, danny,” you whisper, your voice gentle but firm. your hands cup his face, your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones as you look him in the eyes, wanting him to know how much you mean the words falling from your lips. “you’re still everything you’ve always been. on and off track.”

daniel swallows hard, you can see his adam’s apple bobbing as he does so. his grip on you tightens, scared to let you go. “then why do i feel like i’m falling apart?” he asks softly, as if he’s embarrassed to seek the reassurance. his wide doe eyes boring into yours, pleading for comfort. “because you’re doubting yourself, daniel. but you don’t need to, and you shouldn’t be. i’m going to show you how much you’re worth,” the words get to him, because you see the spark reignite in his eyes and briefly, you see his eyes get glossy. you don’t dwell on it though, because you know daniel wouldn’t want you to mention it.

your hips roll slowly again, and a quiet groan escapes him. there’s still that uncertainty lingering in daniel’s mind and you know it. tonight is about erasing every doubtful thought. you won’t stop until his mind is filled with nothing but praises– until your name, your words and your touch is all he can think about, leaving room for nothing else.

as your hips slowly grind against daniel, you can feel daniel begin to tense beneath you, his fingers gripping onto your hips tighter, holding onto you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. his breath stutters– from both pleasure and doubt-- and you can see him begin to spiral. but you won’t allow that. not tonight.

“look at me,” you murmur, voice soft yet commanding. daniel’s eyes open and focus in on your face, making sure to follow your instructions. “you’re incredible, danny. you’ve worked so hard to be where you are. you deserve everything.” his eyes flutter closed momentarily, as if he’s trying to take the words in and process them. you don’t leave it at that though, and you lean in to his neck as you pepper delicate kisses along the soft skin. “you’re perfect,” you mutter against the him, “every single part of you.” you trail the kisses down to his collarbones, your hands coming to rest on the hard planes of his chest. a shaky breath escapes him, the mix of your soft kisses and sweet words getting to him– in more ways than one. all he can get out is a small “yeah?”, looking up to your eyes hopeful, a sign he’s listening but needs more.

you grind down harder against him, reveling in the whine that leaves his mouth as he throws his head back. you retrace your tracks, moving back up his neck and this time, trail the kisses up to his ear, kissing just below his earlobe. moving your lips closer to his ear, a smile makes its way onto your face at the shiver that escapes daniel. “yeah, danny. you’re so good– so good to me and for me,” you whisper to him, catching his adams apple bobbing at the corner of your eye. your lips are now on his jaw, his shortened stubble graciously tickling your soft lips as you trail your kisses all around his jaw, making sure to love every part of him. “nobody makes me feel as good as you,” you tell him, your words coming out in soft, breathy praises. “you’re everything i want. everything i need.” daniel’s hips involuntarily jerk up at your words, a choked sound leaving his lips, and you know it’s starting to get to him. “you’re so strong,” you continue, moving your hands from his chest over to his arms, tracing every tattoo that was painted upon them. “you work so hard, and you’re so talented. and you’re so handsome,” you add, lips brushing daniel’s before leaving a chaste kiss upon them. “you’re so handsome, daniel.” he shudders beneath you, overwhelmed by the flood of praises, but he needs more of it. “say it again,” he whispers, almost as if he’s embarrassed. but you can hear the desperation his voice, pleading for you to continue. you smile, running your hands over his chest again, your fingers tracing the lines of his muscles. “you’re handsome. you’re perfect, inside and out,” you kiss his lips, slow and deep, before pulling back just enough to meet his gaze again. “you’re everything.” daniel lets out a broken moan, head falling against your bare chest as he continues to thrust up into you. his breaths are ragged, he’s panting with want and need, and you know your words are getting him closer. you move a hand to the back of his head, fingers delving into his curls, tugging gently as you play with them. he moves against you with more urgency, occasionally pressing soft kisses against your breasts, a silent thank you. “good boy,” you whisper, your lips hovering his ear as you give his curls another tug/ the words make daniel groan against your skin, you can feel him swallow thickly. his hips jerk against you once more, you know he likes that. “so good f’me, danny. so good.” his breath stutters, and you can feel him begin to tremble beneath you, the tension growing too much for him to contain. “you’re doing so well,” you tell him, words soft but filled with heat, each word dripping with affection and desire. “no one could ever make me feel like you. only you.” daniel’s grip impossibly tightens on you again, to the point you’re sure you’ll have bruises on your skin tomorrow. you aren’t bothered though, it only excites you. his thrusts up into you begin to get faster, driven by your praise. you place a kiss to his temple, before telling him”you’re mine, danny. every part of you is perfect. you’re so strong, so talented, so perfect. and most of all– you’re mine.” he whimpers at that, his moans growing more desperate as his head buries further into your chest. you can feel him losing control, every sound he makes coming out rough, needy. your fingers tighten in his curls as you tilt his head back, forcing him to look up at you. “look at me, baby,” you whisper, your voice a soothing command. his eyes, heavy-lidded and filled with lust, meet yours, and you smile down at him. “that’s it, danny. i want you to see how perfect you are.” a choked groan escapes him, his body trembling beneath yours, and you keep your hips moving, slow and steady, letting him feel every bit of you as you praise him. “you’re close, aren’t you?” you murmur, leaning in to kiss him again, slow and deep. “come for me, be a good boy.. show me how good you are, danny.”

his hips snap up desperately, his breath catching as he teeters on the edge, eyes locked on yours as if your praise is the only thing holding him together. “you’re so good. come for me,” you whisper, pressing your forehead against his as his body shudders beneath you, a strangled moan escaping him as his seed spilling inside you with no warning.as daniel’s body shudders beneath you, he completely lets himself go but you catch his face, pulling him into a searing kiss. “believe me now, danny?” you ask him, and he nods lazily into your hands, nuzzling into your soft palms. “i want to hear it,” you tell him, tone commanding.

his breath hitches at your words, doe eyes looking right into yours as he nods slowly. “ ‘m perfect..” he pants, swallowing before continuing, “i’m good, and i’m all yours.”

[wonkizz]

do you feel the same way i do about you?

성훈 x fmr genre: angst warns: cursing, shit talking, alcohol/drinking, unrequited love, parties, not proofread wc: 1624

Sunghoon is your best friend. Someone you’ve gone through hard times with, someone who’s always been there for you. It was easy for you to catch feelings, but it was also just as easy to hide them away.

The one thing people always say about you and Sunghoon is that you’re so different it’s almost comical. He’s loud and cheerful, albeit around people he’s comfortable with, while you’re quiet and shy with practically everyone, even him.

You’ve tried over the years to branch out and make more friends, but you always find yourself falling short and just missing the mark.

But Sunghoon, he’s never made you feel bad about your personality, if anything he’s allowed you to embrace it.

Which is why when he convinced you to go to a party with him, he was as shocked as you were.

You don’t go to parties, they’re just not for you. But Sunghoon said this one would be good and a chance for you to make more friends.

He wanted to introduce you to his other friends, the ones he’s made at your college.

You were hesitant but decided it might be worth it in the end.

Only problem is, you don’t have party worthy clothes. Your style is basic, you wear jeans and sweaters on most occasions because you prefer comfort over anything else.

When you tell Sunghoon this, he urges you not to worry about it, saying he’ll handle it.

What exactly does that mean? Buying you the skimpiest outfit he could find.

The dress is short, barely covers your ass and your chest is nearly exposed.

“Sunghoon, I don’t think this is for me,” you say, staring at yourself in the mirror.

You did your own hair and makeup, although barely any, and the outfit was the final touch.

You don’t look like you.

“Are you kidding? You look great!” He says, enthusiastic as ever.

“I just… I don't look like myself, you know? I feel weird.”

“I promise, everything will be fine. I know you’re stepping out of your comfort zone for me, and I really appreciate it. This is just part of it.”

Sunghoon, ever the sweet talker, smiles when you nod.

“Okay, let’s go.”

The drive isn’t far, it’s being hosted by Sunghoon’s friend Jay.

When you say the house is gigantic, you mean it.

Your one bedroom is more like a studio compared to it.

Your nerves start to get the better of you, and you almost don’t want to get out of the car.

Sunghoon opens the passenger door for you, holding out a hand, “Come on.”

You take it, and he leads you up the steps and straight inside, not even bothering to knock.

Then again, why would he have to? It’s a party for god's sake.

He leads you through a wave of bodies until you reach the kitchen.

6 other guys are standing there and Sunghoon greets them eagerly.

You can’t help but stand there awkwardly, twiddling your fingers and looking down at the ground.

“Guys, this is Y/N, my best friend,” Sunghoon says as he begins to point at everyone, “Y/N this is Heeseung, Jay, Jake, Sunoo, Jungwon and Riki.”

You wave at them, giving a shy smile as they all greet you.

“You didn’t tell us how pretty she is, Sunghoon,” Heeseung says, raising an eyebrow.

Sunghoon scoffs, “Yeah yeah, don’t overwhelm her, this isn’t her type of thing.”

He grabs two beers from the fridge, opening them and handing you one.

You sip it gently, souring at the taste. You’re not a big drinker either.

It’s not long before Sunghoon effectively abandons you.

He dragged you to the dance floor one minute, then the next he was gone.

You don’t know why, but something is telling you to head upstairs.

It’s there you hear your name coming from a bedroom with the door slightly ajar.

“Why didn’t you introduce us to Y/N sooner?” You barely recognize Heeseung’s voice amongst all the noise coming from downstairs.

You certainly recognize Sunghoon as the next person to speak, “Parties aren’t her thing, I told you that.”

“We’ve been in college for 4 years though. This is the first time you’ve gotten her to come to one?”

“What else can I say? She’s a stick in the mud.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say about your best friend,” Sunoo speaks up.

“I know, but it’s true. She’s kind and all but she’s so shy and closed off that she can’t make friends. The only reason we really became friends is because our parents pushed us to be close.”

Ouch.

“So you’re friends with her out of pity?” Riki asks.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Sunghoon retorts, “she’s sweet and I appreciate having her as a friend but she’s kinda boring and our personalities don’t really match at all. If it weren’t for our parents, we probably wouldn’t be friends at all.”

“That’s harsh, man,” Jake pipes up.

“I know, I just…don’t know how else to describe her.”

You’ve never felt genuine heartbreak. Not until this moment.

So this is how he feels about you? The best friend you thought accepted you for who you are, truly just…tolerates you?

Has he always felt this way? Has he only kept you as a friend out of pity?

You never thought of yourself as less than when it came to Sunghoon, but now, you’re doubting everything you thought you knew.

As tears gather in your eyes, you turn around making your way back downstairs and out the front door.

You call yourself an uber and go home, crying silently in the back seat of this stranger's car.

Once you make it inside your apartment, you take the heels Sunghoon bought off, thank god because they were killing your feet.

Heading into your bedroom, you look at yourself in the mirror again. The girl glaring back at you, isn’t you. She’s what Sunghoon wants you to be, but clearly you can’t give him that.

You almost tear the dress as you’re taking it off, and change into sweats and a t-shirt.

As you lay in bed, you think back on your years with Sunghoon.

All the time he tried to convince you to do things with him, all the times you tried. All the times you asked him to do something with you and all the times he declined because they “weren’t his style.”

Has it really always been like this? You, trying to be different for Sunghoon, but Sunghoon, never trying for you?

Suddenly you feel humiliated.

Humiliated at the fact that your friendship with Sunghoon has all been a fluke.

You’ve always accepted Sunghoon for who he is. Yet, he never truly did the same for you.

Your phone buzzes beside you, Sunghoon’s contact coming up with a text.

‘Where are you?’ It says.

You don’t bother answering, instead, putting your phone on the charger and turning it off.

You fall asleep with your eyes swollen and heart broken.

When you turn your phone on the next morning, it’s full of texts from Sunghoon.

You, again, don’t bother answering. You’re disgusted by last night's events.

You don’t have class thankfully, so you lounge around in your pajamas all morning.

It’s not until noon when there’s a knock at your door.

You mentally slap yourself for not checking the peephole, because once you open it, you regret it.

Sunghoon stands there, an evident frown on his face.

“Why haven’t you answered my texts?” He says, immediately.

You feel snappy, like the word nice is not in your vocabulary at the moment.

“Can I be honest? I didn’t want to talk to you.”

Sunghoon’s face furrows, “Why? What’d I do?”

You just begin to laugh. You don’t know if it’s the leftover pain morphing into anger or the fact that you’re tired.

“Why are you here Sunghoon? I don’t need your pity, not anymore.”

“What are you talking about?”

Then, you’re shouting, “I heard you last night! You’re friends with me out of fucking pity and I’m honestly disgusted!”

Sunghoon’s face morphs from confusion to shock.

“I…you heard me?”

“I did.” You nod, “And honestly, if you were so fucking bored of me, you should’ve just ended the ‘friendship’ instead of dragging it along like this.”

“Y/N I…I didn’t mean any of that—,”

“Yes you did! You did because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t have said it.”

There’s nothing but silence from his end, like he’s trying to process everything while you’ve already caught up.

You can feel tears pricking your eyes again and damn if it isn’t embarrassing to cry in front of him, but at this point, you don’t care.

“You know what hurts the most?” You ask as Sunghoon looks up, into your eyes.

“The fact that I did so much for you. You wanted to go out? Fine. You wanted me to put myself out there in a place I was totally out of place at? Fine. So many times I made myself uncomfortable for you. But the very few times I asked you to do something with me, for me, you always said no. It wasn’t your thing. Do you realize how fucking pathetic I feel knowing my friendship was so one-sided?”

Sunghoon doesn’t say a word, tears gathering in his own eyes. “I’m sorry.”

You nod, “I’m sorry too. Sorry that we both wasted our time. Sorry, that I ever had feelings for you. Consider this ‘friendship’ over, Sunghoon.”

With that, you close the door in his face, locking it before letting yourself break.

You settle on your couch, curling into a ball, clutching a pillow as you cry.

There’s a few stray knocks, but he eventually leaves.

WONKIZZ 2025

[4dbarbie-archive]

4dbarbie remix: Give up and Be Free

Hello! It's been a while since my last remix. I felt spontaneously inspired to make this based on my most favourite 4dbarbie asks. This one's a bit different as this time I got help from AI so they did a lot of the legwork and I made edits as I saw fit, it definitely cut down on the amount of time it takes to make a remix! I asked them to write it in a conversational tone like a friendly guru talking to me so some of the wording has been changed (which can sometimes be helpful in understanding the message in a new way) so it's not entirely 4dbarbie's words verbatim but the message remains the same (feel free to check out the source texts if you wish!). Hope you enjoy!

Edit: This is based on 4dbarbie's guide to a new identity but you can do it with I AM in mind instead (replacing paragraph 6) for self-realization

My highlight colour key: key concepts are in pink, action points in purple, really important points in red

Source texts: 1, 2, 3, 4 Recommended reading: 1, 2, 3, 4

Welcome, my friend. Let me guide you through something deeply transformative, yet so simple it might surprise you. First and foremost, you need to get to a place within where the person you’re identified with no longer bothers you. As long as you fight it and try so hard & incessantly to change it, you're only giving it further reality. It’s not about force or willpower—it’s more of a surrender, or as I prefer to call it, a giving up. Yes, giving up. Because even if you're not happy about what you see, there is no way around it besides accepting it. Even if this feels like misery at first, accept it. Just sit with it. Only when you no longer fear things staying the same, when you cease caring, does true change begin.

You see, I didn’t fake being unaffected. I simply allowed things to happen to “me”. Painful, pleasant, it didn’t matter. I didn’t try to change anything. I let go of the exhausting loop of desire and fear, like finally putting down a heavy load. The emotions still came, but I didn’t involve myself with them. They didn’t interest me anymore, I became indifferent and neutral to whatever was happening. If I got what I wanted, fine. If I didn’t, fine again. Events passed by like clouds—leaving no imprint, no reverberation. In time, it was like they never existed at all.

And here’s the beautiful part—you’ll begin to toy with this idea: “What if none of this ever really existed in the way I thought?” It’s playful and not serious because you've stopped caring. You’ve stopped chasing “realization”, stopped chasing anything. There's no more trying, no more effort. You no longer want or need anything. And in place of needing nothing, you find something you never expected: power. Not power over things, but power in yourself, in your complete detachment from the world. When you reach this point, everything else becomes secondary.

So how do you walk this path? Start by giving up. Give up the idea that you can control anything. You can do nothing about life but cease caring and let it happen. Do not try to understand anymore; simply be. Let everything be as it is. Let life happen. After all, we all die one day, and it’ll all be over anyway. Why exhaust yourself worrying, fearing, striving or desiring? It’s like fighting an ocean tide—you’re just tiring yourself out. No matter what, you can't force life to give you what you want. Allow everything its being and leave it alone. Instead, step back and let the waves wash over you, let life happen as it happens. Life will flow as it will, and you no longer push or pull at it.

Expect nothing. Not from your body, not from your mind, not from the world. Let them be as they will. If life wants to beat you, just let it beat you. It’s like facing a bully—when you stop reacting, when you stop caring, they lose interest. Sure, maybe they’ll hit harder for a while, but you’ve already surrendered. What more can they do? The same goes for life—stop caring what happens and you’ll find it starts losing its power over you.

Now that you’ve freed yourself from expectations, give yourself everything. Live completely in the moment, forget about a past, don't think about a future. Be here, fully, now. All the good things you used to think about others, think about yourself. In each moment, ask yourself “What if there’s nothing outside of me? What would I think and feel right now?”. Let go of caring what life does with it, just do it. You’re not doing it for some future result; you’re doing it because it feels true to you; to be free and be exactly what you want to be in the moment. Whether tomorrow repeats itself or brings something new, so what? You no longer depend on anything external to feel fulfilled. You keep to yourself and continue thinking what you want, continue being who you want to be. If life follows along, let it. If it doesn’t, let it not. Hold steady to what feels right within you, and allow your thoughts to shape what's real to you.

Finally, remember to forget. The past? Gone. What you see before you? Just a shadow of what was. Now, here’s the key: Want nothing. Do nothing. Don’t chase, don’t seek—just let yourself be. This doesn’t mean you stop living or acting; it simply means you stop the endless striving, the relentless push to try make life bend to your will. Instead, just watch what happens. And most importantly, don’t attach any meaning to it. Be a witness, a quiet observer of the flow of life. Whatever happens, good or bad, is just passing through—you have nothing to do with it. It’s not permanent, nothing is. So why believe in it as though it were immovable? Cease caring and be free!

Let the world dance as it may, but you—remain still within. Watch as the transient nature of everything becomes clearer. You’ll see that the world outside is nothing more than a reflection of the thoughts you no longer hold, and that what you once took to be reality soon ceases to be when you take away your identification.

[harrywavycurly]

YES TO A PART 2 PLEASE!!!

Hiii babes!!! So happy y’all wanted a part 2! So here it is and I hope y’all enjoy💖

A/N: if y’all want more updates on these two let me know because I lowkey love them so much✨

-find all things Lonely here✨

Tag List: @blckburd @fangirl509east @ell0ra-br3kk3r

Summary: You’re ready to talk to Harry but are you ready to hear what he has to say? Aka you tell Harry how you feel and he asks you to marry him…again✨

Harry cant help the smile that takes over his face as he sees you walk into his living room. His eyes glance down to your left hand and he’s pleased to see you still have on the gold band he slid onto your ring finger in your backyard a little over twenty four hours ago. He makes a move to get up from his spot on the couch but you quickly put a hand up making him raise an eyebrow as he pauses his movements. He watches as you let out a deep breath before finally making eye contact with him and his feels his smile morph into a slight frown when he sees the sadness that’s written all over your face. Your eyes are red and the tip of your nose is pink and if he was standing closer to you he knows he’d hear you sniffling letting him know you were crying not too long ago.

“You can’t marry me Harry.” He hates how your voice sounds shaky as your eyes go from looking at him to down to your shoes. “You deserve to be with someone you’re already in love with and not someone you just hope one day you’ll wake up and magically be in love with.” He stands up and ignores your warning glare when he sees your hand start to grab at the ring on your left hand trying to slip it off.

“I love you.” His words make you want to let out a sob as he takes your hands in his and ducks his head down so you have no choice but to look at him. “I know it’s not the same as being in love okay? But I also know that I’ve never allowed myself to think about you in any other way than as a friend because I knew from that very first night when we met all those years ago that I needed you in my life and I know that feelings and friendships don’t usually mix well.” You feel his warm hands give yours a gentle squeeze as he brings them up to his lips.

“I just couldn’t risk losing you so I never let myself see you as anything other than my bestfriend.” His lips are soft against the skin of your knuckles, he hears you let out a small sigh as your shoulders relax a bit. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t. I already know the moment I let myself actually see you as someone that’s not just my bestfriend but as someone I’m allowed to be in love with my life is going to change forever but I can’t take that leap unless you’re taking it with me.” He can’t help but feel his heart begin to beat faster as he watches his words fully register with you. He feels his heart drop to his stomach when you just shake your head and close your eyes as an attempt to avoid his intense stare.

“I already took the leap Harry.” He raises an eyebrow as you turn your head and open your eyes, you know if you look at him he will make you crumble and you can’t, not yet at least not until you tell him the truth. “I’ve been in love with you for so long that I can’t remember a time where I just loved you as my bestfriend.” Harry hasn’t ever wished he could change how he feels about someone more than he does in this moment, he wishes so badly he could tell you he’s in love with you too but he just can’t and you know it. “So I can’t do this, I’m sorry.” Your words come out like a whisper as you slide your hands out of his.

You try to turn and make your way to his front door but Harry knows you so he anticipates your escape attempt so he is quick to grab your hand before you can even try. You make a small squeaking sound of surprise when you feel him tug at your hand bringing you closer to him and when you look up at him and see a playful glare in his eyes as he just lets out a frustrated sigh and shakes his head you know he’s not upset but more so just annoyed and you don’t understand why until he starts to speak.

“You always have to beat me at everything don’t you?” You can’t help but shrug as a small chuckle escapes his lips causing the energy in the room to shift from sad and borderline heartbreaking to more optimistic and comfortable. “Can’t even let me try to fall in love with you first you have to go and admit that you’ve loved me for a while now and then in the same breath you want to tell me you can’t do this?” He gives your hand another tug bringing you even closer to him making you have to brace yourself with your free hand so you don’t crash into his chest as he looks down at you with a pout you know isn’t genuine because the way the corners of his mouth twitch in an attempt to hold back his smile. “I don’t think so sweetheart.”

“Harry I-”

“Just let me catch up to you love.” He closes his eyes as he leans down and rests his forehead against yours. You can feel how desperately he wants you to give him a chance. “I just need some time to catch up to you that’s all, you have a bit of a head start so just give me a little time please?” You interlock your fingers with his in the hand that he’s holding, this little sign of affection makes him smile as he opens his eyes and stands up a bit straighter.

“What if you never feel the same? Will you tell me?” He just nods as he brings your hand to rest on his chest right where his heart is. “Good so then I’ll be able to divorce you and take half of everything and move to Italy.” He rolls his eyes the moment you mention Italy.

“You’d never move to Italy without me.”

“I totally would if I was divorcing you because you realized you can’t ever love me the way I love you.”

“So you’d take half of everything and you’d take Italy from me?” You just nod as Harry lets out a scoff as he gives your hand a squeeze. “That’s just cruel love.” He brings your hand up to his lips and gives your knuckles a little kiss before he lets it go allowing him to use both hands to cup the sides of your face. “You won’t have to divorce me though.” His voice is soothing as his thumbs gently run across your cheekbones and you know you look a mess with your red eyes and puffy face from crying but Harry doesn’t care.

“How can you be so sure?” You need him to explain it to you, to make you understand why he’s so confident in his decision that you should be his wife. Your question just makes him grin as he leans down and places a quick kiss to your forehead making your knees want to give out.

“Because how could I not fall in love with you? For starters I feel like it is my duty to remind you how beautiful you are because I could literally stand here all day and explain to you exactly why I find you so stunning but I also know you hate that sort of thing so we will just move on.” Harry shoots you a playful wink but you know him enough to know he means it, if you wanted him to he’d stand there and give you a detailed explanation on why he finds you so beautiful because he’s done it once before when the two of you were drunk and you called yourself ugly and he wasn’t having it.

“You’re funny and you even find me funny at times which is a huge boost to my ego every time you laugh at one of my horrible dad jokes. You’re so smart and I love the way your mind works because you see things in a way that I don’t which is why we make such a great team. You challenge me constantly. You tell me when I’m being an idiot which is often and you allow me to make my own mistakes but you always let me know you’re going to be there when it falls apart.” You lean into his touch as he talks and you feel your cheeks get warm as he looks at you with such intensity you want to look away but you don’t, you know he’s saying these things to you because he desperately needs you to believe him when he says he can love you the way you love him.

“I think the love has been there this whole time I just refused to see it because I didn’t want to lose you.” He breaks the eye contact and drops his hands from your face as he tilts his head upward and looks towards his ceiling as he lets out a deep breath before you watch him look back down at you while taking a few steps backwards. “Now I’m going to do this one more time and honestly if you tell me no I’m never doing it again so no pressure but the future of the Styles name is sort of resting on your lovely shoulders.” You want to roll your eyes and make a joke but you can’t, all you can do is stare at him as he quickly reaches into his back pocket for something before he drops down to one knee for the second time right in front of you.

“I know how to make you happy and I know how to make you laugh. I also know exactly which buttons to press to make you want to smother me in my sleep while I’m taking a nap on the couch, I know this seems crazy but if you think about it we’ve kinda been dating for the last ten years and we have everything two people need in order to have a very happy and healthy marriage.” You smile and give him a small but encouraging nod as he reaches for your left hand.

“We have the foundation of over a decade long friendship and we have respect and for the most part we don’t judge each other even though I know you sometimes send photos of my outfits to Niall and you two talk shit but that’s okay because I sometimes talk to Mitch about the things you would tell me about all your tinder hook ups.” He watches in amusement as your eyes go slightly wide at his confession and before you can say anything your attention is brought back to your ring finger as Harry starts to slowly slide off the gold band. “But most importantly we trust each other and we’d never do anything to hurt one another and also it doesn’t hurt I quite like how you look nak-”

“I will say no right now if you bring up how I look naked in the middle of your second marriage proposal.” Your voice is teasing but Harry doesn’t want to risk it so he just nods as the gold band is now off your ring finger and you don’t even know how he does it because it’s so quick but he manages to switch it with a ring that you know you’ve seen before but you just can’t quite remember where.

“It was my Nan’s but you’ve probably seen my sister wearing it but after an intense evening of negotiating I managed to get her to agree to give it to me.” You feel your eyes get that familiar sting to them as he slips the ring on your finger. “I hope you don’t mind Gemma as a name for our first born child because that was one of the conditions as well as letting her be my best woman at the wedding but the main condition she had for giving me this ring was,” Harry smiles at how well the ring fits you and how good it looks on your finger before he looks up at you, and that’s when you feel the first few tears roll down your cheeks because he’s looking at you almost as if it’s the first time and you watch as his smile grows and his eyes light up. “You had to be the one wearing it.” You look from Harry’s eyes down to the ring and then back to him as you feel your heart begin to race as you prepare for him to ask you the question this has all be leading up to.

“Will you please marry me and allow me to prove to you just how easy it’ll be for me to love you for the rest of my life?” Harry watches with a hopeful smile as a few more tears roll down your cheeks and when you just nod your head he feels as if the weight of the world has been lifted off his shoulders as he lets out a deep sigh of relief but to your surprise he doesn’t move he just stares at you for a moment. “I really need to hear you say it. Please.” You’ve never been one to deny him especially when he asks so nicely.

“Yes Harry I’ll marry you.” His smile turns into a grin that makes his dimples pop out and the corners of his eyes crinkle as he finally stands up and wraps his arms around your shoulders pulling you into his chest.

“Thank god.” You let out a giggle as he mumbles into the top of your head while your arms wrap around his middle so you can press your cheek against the soft material of his shirt. The two of you stay like that for a moment, just enjoying the feeling of being wrapped up in each other’s arms.

Harry is the one to break away from the embrace but just enough so he can look down at you with a quirked brow. “Would it be weird if we kissed? I know we’ve kissed a handful of times before and it wasn’t weird but is it different now? Or-” His words get cut off by you pressing your lips to his in a very rushed kiss but one that still makes him smile when you pull away.

“It is different now but it’s not a weird different.” You explain and Harry just licks his lips as he nods his head and before you can say anything else his lips are on yours but this time the kiss isn’t rushed and it feels like how kissing someone you just got engaged to is supposed to be, soft and sweet leaving you both with grins on your faces when he pulls away.

“So does next week work for you to get married?” You roll your eyes at him and ignore his question as you rest your head back on his chest.

“God we have to like actually plan a wedding now.”Harry laughs as you let out a groan and he knows you’re making a mental checklist of all the things that need to get done. “Where are we going to live?” He looks down at you and offers you a casual shrug making you roll your eyes at him yet again.

“We can live here if you’re comfortable with that? Or if you want we can look at some houses and find something that feels like it’s more us so you don’t feel like you’re moving into my house? Because no offense lovey but your house isn’t an option you have two bedrooms and one of them is the size of the closet I just have for my shoes and accessories.” You ignore his rude statement about the size of your house and smile at the idea of finding a place that feels like it’s just for the two of you rather than you moving into his house that he’s had for years and has seen a few other woman move in and out of it.

“Okay I like the idea of us finding a place together.” He just nods as his hands begin running up and down your back. “Who’s going to be your first call?” You know his answer but you want to hear him say it anyway.

“My mum so she can get all her ugly crying out of the way and I’m sure I’m going to have to talk her out of booking a flight out here and try to tell her to save it for the engagement party or something but we both know she doesn’t listen to me half the time so she’s more than likely going to ring my doorbell in a few days.” You laugh as he rambles on about his mom and you know even though his tone is teasing that he adores his mother and he’ll be a big teary eyed mess the moment she wraps her arms around him when she arrives.

“Mine is Niall because-”

“Niall Horan? That’s the first person you’re telling about our engagement? Really?”

“Yes because if he finds out through someone else it’ll just wreck him, you know he’s sensitive and besides I need him to get the big brother type conversation with you out of the way as soon as possible.” Harry rolls his eyes at the idea of Niall trying to have a brotherly conversation with him but he knows Niall has always been like a protective older brother to you and he’s been there for you at times Harry couldn’t so he’ll let Niall say whatever it is he needs to say and be done with it.

“You know he’s going to be a mess right? He’s going to cry and be all dramatic-”

“You’re one to talk about being dramatic Harry when you’ve literally proposed to me twice now.”

“I wouldn’t have had to do it twice if you would’ve just said yes the first time.”

“Someone has to keep you humble.” You feel Harry’s chest vibrate as he laughs making you smile, his laugh has always been one of your favorite sounds.

“And you do such a good job at it sweetheart.” You give him a little squeeze as he rests his cheek on top of your head. You feel your body start to relax as you look down at the ring on your finger. It’s a beautiful reminder that Harry Styles, your bestfriend for over ten years really did ask you to marry him and you really said yes because you love him and you believe him when he tells you that if you give him some time he will love you in the exact same way.

[jewelleria]

I don’t usually talk about politics on here, if ever. But it’s been almost six months since the conflict in the Middle East flared up again, and I’m finally ready to start. Here are some of my thoughts.

I say ‘flared up’ because this has happened before and it’ll happen again. Because, even though what's currently going on is absolutely unprecedented, those of us who live in this part of the world are used to it. Let that sink in: we are used to this. And we shouldn’t have to be. 

But I use that term for another reason: I don't want to accidentally call it the wrong thing lest I come under fire for being a genocidal maniac or a terrorist or a propaganda machine, etc., etc.—so let’s just call it ‘the war’ or ‘the conflict.’ Because that’s what it is. Doesn’t matter which side you’re on, who you love, or who you hate. 

This post will, in all likelihood, sit in my drafts forever. If it does get posted, it certainly won’t be on my main, because I'm scared of being harassed (spoiler: she posted it on her main). I hate admitting that, but honestly? I’m fucking terrified. 

I also feel like in order for anything I say on here (i.e. the hellscape of the internet) to be taken seriously, I have to somehow prove that a) I’m “educated” enough to talk about the conflict, and b) that my opinion lines up with what has been deemed the correct one. So, tedious and unnecessary though it is, I will tell you about my experience, because I have a feeling most of the people reading this post are not nearly as close to what’s happening as I am.

How do I explain where I live without actually explaining where I live? How do I say “I live in the Red Zone of international conflicts” without saying what I actually think? How do I convey the fear that grips me when I try to decide between saying “I live in Palestine” and “I live in Israel”? I don't really know. But I do know that names are important. I also know that, due to the various clickbaity monikers ascribed to the conflict, it would probably just be easier to point to a map. 

I haven't always lived in the Middle East. I've lived in various places along America’s east coast, and traveled all over the world. But in short, I now live somewhere inside the crudely-drawn purple circle. 

If you know anything about these borders you probably blanched a bit in sympathy, or maybe condolence. But in truth, it’s a shockingly normal existence. I don't feel like I've lived through the shifting of international relations or a war or anything. I just kind of feel like I did when COVID hit, that dull sameness as I wondered if this would be the only world-altering event to shape my life, or if there would be more. 

I've been told that, in order for my brain to process all the horrific details of the past six months, there needs to be some element of cognitive dissonance—that falling into a sort of dissociative mindset is the only way to not go insane under the weight of it all. I think in some ways that’s true. I have been terrifyingly close to bus stop shootings when my commute wasn’t over; I have felt my apartment building shake with the reverberations of a missile strike; I have spent hours in underground shelters waiting for air raid sirens to stop. 

But. I have also gone grocery shopping, and skipped class, and stayed up too late watching TV, and fed the cats on the street corner, and cried over a boy, and got myself AirPods just because, and taken out the trash, and done laundry on a delicate cycle, and bought overpriced lattes one too many days a week. I have looked at pretty things and taken out my phone because, despite it all, I still think that life is too short not to freeze the small moments. 

So I'd say, all things considered, I live an incredibly privileged life—compared, of course, to those suffering in Gaza—one filled with sunsets and over-sweetened knafeh and every different color of sand. One that allows me to throw myself into a fandom-induced hyperfixation (or, alternatively, escape method) as I sit on the couch and crack open my laptop to write the next chapter of the fic I'm working on. 

But there are bits of not-normalness that wheedle their way through the cracks. I pretend these moments are avoidable, even if they’re not. 

They look like this: reading the news and seeing another idiotic, careless choice on Netanyahu’s part and groaning into my morning coffee. Watching Palestinian and Jewish children’s needless suffering posted on Instagram reels and feeling helpless. Opening my Tumblr DMs to find a message telling me to exterminate myself for reblogging a post that only seems like it’s about the war if you squint and tilt your head sideways. 

These moments look like all the tiny ways I am reminded that I'm living in a post-October seventh world, where hearing a car backfire makes me jump out of my skin and the sound of a suitcase on pavement makes me look up at the sky and search for the war planes. They look like the heavy grief that is, and also isn’t, mine. 

Here's the thing, though. I know you’re wondering when the ball will drop and my true opinion will be revealed. I know you’re waiting for me to reveal what demographic I'm a part of so that you, dear reader, can neatly slap a label on my head and sort me into some oversimplified category that lets you continue to think you understand this war. 

No one wants to sit and ruminate on the difficult questions, the ones that make you wonder if maybe you’ve been tinkered with by the propaganda machine, if you might need to go back on what you’ve said or change your mind. We all strive for our perception of complicated issues to be a comfortable one.

But I know that no matter what I do, there will always be assumptions. So, while I shudder to reveal this information online, I think that maybe my most significant contribution to this meta-discussion spanning every facet of the internet is this: 

I am a Jew. 

Or, alternatively, I am: Jewish, יהודית, يَهُودِيٌّ, etc. Point is, I come from Jews. And, like any given person, I am a product of generation after generation of love. 

I'm not going to take time to explain my heritage to you, or to prove that before all the expulsions and pogroms, there was an origin point. If you don’t believe that, perhaps it’s less of a factual problem and more of an ‘I don’t give weight to the beliefs of indigenous people’ problem. But, in case you want to spend time uselessly refuting this tiny point in a larger argument, you can inspect the photos below (it’s just a small chunk of my DNA test results). Alternatively, you can remember that interrogating someone in an attempt to make their indigeneity match your arbitrary criteria is generally not seen as good manners. 

Now, let’s go back to thathateful message (read: poorly disguised death threat) I received in my Tumblr DMs. I think it was like two or three weeks ago. I had recently gained a new follower whose blog’s primary focus was the fandom I contribute to, so I followed them back. I saw in my notes that they were going through my posts and liking them—as one does when gaining a new mutual. Yippee! 

Then they sent me this: 

I tried to explain that hate speech is not a way to go about participating in political discourse, but the person had already blocked me immediately after sending that message. Then, assured by the fact that I surely would never see them complaining about me on their blog (because, as I said, they blocked me), they posted a shouting rant accusing me of sympathizing with colonizing settlers and declaring me a “racist Zionist fuck.” Oh, the wonders of incognito tabs.

Where this person drew these conclusions after reading my (reblogged) post about antisemitism…. I'm not actually sure. But I greatly sympathize with them, and hope that they weren’t too personally offended by my desire to not die. 

For a while I contemplated this experience in my righteous anger, and tried to figure out a way to message this person. I wanted to explain that a) seeing a post about being Jewish and choosing to harass the creator about Israel is literally the definition of antisemitism and b) that sending a hateful DM and refusing to be held accountable is just childish and immature. But I gave up soon after—because, honestly, I knew it wasn’t worth my effort or energy. And I knew that I wouldn't be able to change their mind. 

But I still remember staring at that rather unfortunate meme, accompanied by an all-caps message demanding for me to Free Palestine, and thinking: the post didn’t even have any buzzwords. I remember the swoop of dread and guilt and fear. I remember wondering why this kind of antisemitism felt worse, in that moment, than the kind that leaves bodies in its wake. 

I remember thinking, I don’t have the power to free anyone.

I remember thinking, I’m so fucking tired. 

And before you tell me that this conflict isn’t about religion—let me ask you some questions. Why is it that Israel is even called Israel? (Here’s why.) Why do Jews even want it? (Here’s why.) But also, if you actually read the charters of Islamist terrorist organizations like ISIS, Hamas, and Hezbollah (among others), they equate the modern state of Israel with the Jewish people, and they use the two entities interchangeably. So of course this conflict is religious. It’s never been anything but that.

But I do wonder, when faced with those who deny this fact: how do I prove, through an endless slew of what-about-isms and victim blaming, that I too am hurting? How do I show that empathy is dialectical, that I can care deeply for Palestinians and Gazans while also grieving my own people? 

There's this thing that humans do, when we’re frustrated about politics and need to howl our opinions about it into the void until we feel better. We find like-minded souls, usually our friends and neighbors, and fret about the state of the world to each other until we’ve gone around in a satisfactory amount of circles. But these conversations never truly accomplish anything. They’re just a substitute, a stand-in catharsis, for what we really wish we could do: find someone who embodies the spirit of every Jew-hating internet troll, every ignorant justifier of terrorism, and scream ourselves hoarse at them until we change their mind.

But, of course, minds cannot be changed when they are determined to live in a state of irrational dislike. In Judaism, this way of thinking has a name: שנאת חינם (sinat hinam), or baseless hatred. It's a parasite with no definite cure, and it makes people bend over backwards to justify things like the massacre on October seventh, simply because the blame always needs to be placed on the Jews. 

So when a Jew is faced with this unsolvable problem, there is only one response to be had, only one feeling to be felt: anger. And we are angry. Carrying around rage with nowhere to put it is exhausting. It's like a weight at the base of our neck that pushes down on our spine, bending it until we will inevitably snap under the pressure. I’m still waiting to break, even now.

I wish I could explain to someone who needs to hear it that terrorism against Israelis happens every single day here, and that we are never more than one degree of separation away from the brutal slaughter of a friend, lover, parent, sibling. I wish it would be enough to say that the majority of Israelis (which includes Arab-Israeli citizens who have the exact same rights as Jewish-Israelis) wish for peace every day without ever having seen what it looks like. 

I wish I could show the world that Israel was founded as a socialist state, that it was built on communal values and born from a cluster of kibbutzim (small farming communities based on collective responsibility), and that what it is now isn’t what its people stand for. 

I wish the world could open their eyes to what we Israelis have seen since the beginning: that Hamas is the enemy, Hamas is the one starving Palestinians and denying them aid, Hamas is the one who keeps rejecting ceasefire terms and denying their citizens basic human rights. Hamas is the governing body of Gaza, not Israel. Hamas is responsible for the wellbeing of the Palestinian people. And Hamas are the ones who are more determined to murder Jews—over and over and over again, in the most animalistic ways possible—than to look inwards and see the suffering they’ve inflicted on their own people. I wish it was easier to see that.

But the wishing, the asking how can people be so blind, is never enough. I can never just say, I promise I don't want war. 

When I bear witness to this baseless hatred, I think of the victims of October seventh. I think of the women and girls who were raped and then murdered, forever unable to tell their stories. I think of the hostages, trapped underneath Gaza in dark tunnels, wondering if anyone will come for them. I think of Ori Ansbacher, of Ezra Schwartz, of Eyal, Gilad, and Naftali, of Lucy, Rina, and Maia Dee, of the Paley boys, of Ari Fuld and of Nachshon Wachsman. I think of all the innocent blood spilled because of terror-fueled hatred and the virus of antisemitism. I think of all the thousands of people who were brutally murdered in Israel, Jews and Muslims and Christians and humans, who will never see peace.

My ties to this land are knotted a thousand times over. Even when I leave, a part of me is left behind, waiting for me to claim it when I return. But when I see the grit it takes to live through this pain, when I see the suffering that paints the world the color of blood, I look to the heavens and I wonder why. 

I ask God: is it worth all this? He doesn't answer. So I am the one, in the end, to answer my own question. I say, it has to be. 

Feel free to send any genuine, respectful, and clarifying questions you may have to my inbox!

EDIT: just coming on here to say that I'm really touched & grateful for the love on this post. When I wrote it, I felt hopeless; I logged off of Tumblr for Shabbat, dreading the moment I would turn off my phone to find more hate in my inbox. Granted, I did find some, and responding to it was exhausting, but it wasn’t all hate. I read every kind reblog and comment, and the love was so much louder. Thank you, thank you, thank you. 🤍

Source Reading

The Whispered in Gaza Project by The Center for Peace Communications

Why Jews Cannot Stop Shaking Right Now by Dara Horn

Hamas Kidnapped My Father for Refusing to Be Their Puppet by Ala Mohammed Mushtaha

I Hope Someone Somewhere Is Being Kind to My Boy by Rachel Goldberg

The Struggle for Black Freedom Has Nothing to Do with Israel by Coleman Hughes

Israel Can Defend Itself and Uphold Its Values by The New York Times Editorial Board

There Is a Jewish Hope for Palestinian Liberation. It Must Survive by Peter Beinart

The Long Wait of the Hostages’ Families by Ruth Margalit

“By Any Means Necessary”: Hamas, Iran, and the Left by Armin Navabi

When People Tell You Who They Are, Believe Them by Bari Weiss

Hunger in Gaza: Blame Hamas, Not Israel by Yvette Miller

Benjamin Netanyahu Is Israel’s Worst Prime Minister Ever by Anshel Pfeffer

What Palestinians Really Think of Hamas by Amaney A. Jamal and Michael Robbins

The Decolonization Narrative Is Dangerous and False by Simon Sebag Montefiore

Understanding Hamas’s Genocidal Ideology by Bruce Hoffman

The Wisdom of Hamas by Matti Friedman

How the UN Discriminates Against Israel by Dina Rovner

This Muslim Israeli Woman Is the Future of the Middle East by The Free Press

Why Are Feminists Silent on Rape and Murder? by Bari Weiss

[dumplingsjinson]

List of random dialogue prompts (pt. 3)

“Truth be told? I miss the times — the me — before I fell in love with you.” 

“You know, I can see myself in, on top of, or under you. What do you say?” “I can see you buried six feet under my very feet if you don’t stop joking about this shit with me.” 

“Was there a point when you fell out of love with me?” “There was a point when I fell in love with you, but never out.”

“When did you fall out of love with me?” “That’s the thing: I never fell out of love with you. You’re the one who fell out of love with me.”

“Right person, wrong time… What if this is the right time? We’re just the wrong people for each other.”

“You have me wrapped around your fingers. Crazy part is, I don’t mind it.” 

“Don’t forget this: I made you. I can easily break you if I wanted to.” 

“I shared pieces of me, with so many people, and none of them kept those pieces safe, and I don’t know if I can risk that with you because it would devastate me if you turn out to be the same as them all. I would be completely destroyed.” 

“Don’t give me that look.”

“You okay?” “No. I need hugs. From you. I need you to hug me.” 

“I just wanna fucking get over you so I can be okay again.” 

“Stop trying to remind me that you’re still in my life. I’m trying to not think about you, for God’s sake.”

“I wanna kiss you so badly right now but we’re in public and I know you hate public display of affection—“ “I’ll allow you to do it this time.” “Wait… Really?” 

“I make shitty decisions and you’re a testament to that matter.”

“I have things to do, and most of them include me trying not to think about you.”

“I’ve never cried because of someone, you know? I didn’t have anyone to cry over. You’re the first, and you’ll also be the last, or so God help me through this embarrassment.” 

“Breaking up with me does not mean you had to kick me off your Spotify playlist, you know? Because damn. As much as I’m upset, your list had some bangers.” 

“You don’t get to do decide my feelings for you.” 

“I’m not bitchless, you fucking dickhead. Take that back!” 

“Every little thing reminds me of you, which sucks because you’re not in my life anymore.”

“It’s kinda weird not seeing your name on my phone when I wake up. It’s gonna take me some time to get used to this.”

“I think I knew this wasn’t going to last when I realised it’s not that I trust you. It’s that I don’t care what you do, and who you might be fucking around with.”

“One text from you has me happier than a child whose mother bought them their favourite candy. It’s not okay.” 

“I don’t share my Spotify playlist with just anyone. It’s like a secret love language of mine, reserved for those I want to let in. You’re one of them, yet you’re here thinking I don’t feel the same way about you?”

“I dunno, I just… Kinda fell for you.”

“You’re the reason why I fell in love with you. You, as a whole.” 

“There are some songs that I can’t listen to anymore, because they remind me of you; of all the times we’ve had together. And it sucks because some of them are great songs. And you fucking ruined them, you asshole.”

“I’m tired of acting like I don’t care, because I do. I fucking do, and that’s what makes this even worse.” 

“One thing you should know about me is that I suck at letting go.”

“So you’re telling me I’m supposed to sit here and give a fuck? You couldn’t pay me enough to do that. I have places to be and things to do.” 

“You need to stop being such a dramatic bitch.” “It’s the only way I can entertain myself, okay? Now piss off and leave me be.” 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have let you go.”

“You deserve someone better than me—” “You don’t get to decide that for me.”

“You ever think about how good we could have been together?” “Yeah. I think about it all the time, and then I remember how badly you fumbled. So yeah, good job.”

“You’re blushing.” “I’m not.” “…Then I guess I’ll have to give you something to blush over.”

“I lost myself while trying to find the good in you.”

“I think it’s comforting that they’re somewhere out there… Even if we never speak again, you know? They were a part of my life, even if it was only for a little while. They made me feel good, even if it was only for a short amount of time.” 

“Remember when you said you’d catch me when I fell? Well, you’re a fucking liar. Figuratively and literally. Now I’m hospitalised and also emotionally scarred. I hope you’re fucking happy about that.” 

“If we break up, I’d look for you in other people and be reminded that they are not you, and that I’d never find someone like you again. And… I don’t think I can bear the thought of that.”

“I give you permission to break my heart.” “And I give you permission to end me if I ever do break your heart.” 

“I have things to do—“ “And I’m one of them.”

“You’re only saying sorry because you want to make yourself feel better, so you can go shove that sweet apology up your ass because it doesn’t mean shit. I hope you continue to feel like shit over what you did, because I’m never forgiving you.”

“I had expectations for someone I knew couldn’t meet those expectations, so that’s my fault for expecting anything from you at all.”

“You? Breaking my heart? It’s funny how you think you even have that power over me.”

“You were like a routine that I loved and it felt… comfortable. But I guess that’s not the case anymore.” 

“You fell in love with the idea of someone that wasn’t even real. You fell in love with your own projections. How are you so foolish to think that it would have worked out?”

“I’m fine. Of course I’m fine.” “Everything about this interaction is telling me you’re not fine — not even close.”

“The idea of us was perfect. Blame me for thinking it would turn out into something good and as fantastical as what I made it out to be in my head.”

“Because no matter what I do, I can’t stop thinking about you and it’s about to drive me to the very brink of insanity, so if you’ll excuse me for not wanting to be near you, that would great.”

“I would not be who I am today if not for you.” 

(pt 1.) | (pt. 2)

[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…”

[wildeoscars]

Excerpts from 20 Questions: Eric Bogosian

Playboy, July 1991

The raging monologist who gave us “talk radio” raps about street life, horny guys and the redemptive joys of gardening.

Playboy: Your characters plead, cajole, threaten, offer skewed insights, and exhibit paranoia. Is your stage act a cry for help?

Bogosian: I need to solve my own personal problems. I know nowhere to look other than to myself, so I look at my own questionable traits. And then I personify them in a character. Early in my career, I spent a lot of time on things that had to do with sex, because I wanted to have better relationships with women. FunHouse was about pure, unadulterated fear, because at that point, I was just freaked out. My wife, Joann, and I were impoverished; we lived in this tiny apartment. Drinking in America, written when I became more successful, was about a hunger for power and success. Sex, Drugs, Rock & Roll asks, How do you live when all you know how to do is party?

Playboy: You honed your performance style in New York’s downtown art scene. Was it easier and cheaper than enrolling in drama school?

Bogosian: The downtown scene allowed me to walk out on stage every night and say and do whatever I wanted. I would go out and insult the shit out of the audience. There were nights when I took all my clothes off. I had fights with the audience. The best thing about the scene was that we were making our work and having a good time entertaining one another. I would perform in front of audiences that were guaranteed smart and hip. They didn’t care whether or not I was doing something right, like some acting teacher had taught me. They would tell me whether or not they got it. I was performing loud, nasty, insulting stuff.

Playboy: Does The Stud, your monolog about one man’s extraordinary endowment, reflect your own desire for a larger penis?

Bogosian: I was taking a pee one day and I looked down and wished I had an eight-inch dick. You’re going to quote me on that. Don’t quote me on that. It’s part of men’s fascination with themselves. I wanted to take something out of the back room of male mentality and stick it right out in front of everybody. The Stud is one of my oldest pieces. Doing things about giant dicks is not that far out at the moment. There are probably twenty comics out there doing dick things. But when I started ten years ago, it was extremely embarrassing for men in the audience; they’d sit there with their hands folded over their crotches, not laughing, and the women would be laughing their guts out and the men would be getting angry. I thought it was great stuff going on between people in the theater.

Playboy: Horny guys populate your monologs. Do you claim special knowledge of America’s testosterone level?

Bogosian: I’m very average in what I want. And my desires point me towards centerfold models as the ultimate, the ultimate, the ultimate. The ultimate accomplishment in my sexual life would be to ball a centerfold model. For a pretty girl with large breasts to be the object of delight to millions of red-blooded American men is perfectly normal. Nothing wrong with that. Guys get horny and need to focus on something. Large breasts are great. A large breast is a lovely thing at a particular moment. But as I become old and wise, I think the really important thing is being oriented towards something and understanding that you don’t necessarily have to have the thing to enjoy the thing. I happen to be in love with a woman who has medium-sized breasts.

Playboy: You are synonymous with the downtown New York scene. Do you dream crossover dreams?

Bogosian: At this time, I don’t think I’m going to show up as some kind of box office attraction. But you never know. I’d like to be a star. There’s always the challenge, especially when you’re surrounded by agents and producers, to see if you can really catch the gold ring. Can I fill Madison Square Garden? Can I go on Johnny and do a killer five minutes? I can’t imagine getting on Letterman, people would watch and say they knew what I was doing: This guy plays thugs from New Jersey and subway panhandlers. They wouldn’t see the irony; it would be like I’m just making cruel fun on these guys. I need an audience to be with me for a little while.

Playboy: You’ve bought a house in New Jersey. Will crab grass begin to crop up in your monologs?

Bogosian: It has already. I did a monolog called Normal Guy. I like gardening a lot. Gardening gets me real mellow. I grow twenty-five kinds of vegetables, and when I’m lucky, like last summer, a lot of things come up very nicely. I grow lettuce and beets and carrots and different varieties of cucumbers. I grow different varieties of corn and tomatoes and squash and pumpkins and peppers and okra and all kinds of neat stuff. And early in August, you get to a point where everything you’re eating that night at dinner was grown in your own garden. That’s nice. However, when you garden, you find out that in order to get your vegetables to look good, you have to kill everything within a hundred yards: animals, plants, and little insects. And you realize that after you do all that, you still end up with this gnarled little carrot. Then you go to the supermarket and you get this perfect carrot and you wonder, What are they killing to make these?

Playboy: One of your characters defines being civilized as sitting on a couch with a babe, watching TV, eating clam dip on a ripple potato chip, smoking joints, snorting coke–and swilling bourbon, beer and champagne. What’s your vision of the civilized life?

Bogosian: In New Jersey, we have a fireplace and we’re very, very civilized. I’m sitting on the couch and the fire is going and snow is falling outside and I’m reading a pulp novel by Stephen King. Being over thirty-five, there’s no question that there is a vibe in me that’s moving toward a Stratolounger with a bowl of potato chips and a cable TV with a channel selector. I will fight that tooth and nail. It scares me. I like middle-class life. I don’t think it’s a sin to be middle class. I don’t have to be mainstream to be comfortable. I’ve spent time with Frank Zappa, and he has a very normal, middle-class existence. He’s a daddy and has a whole family and they have pizza for lunch and they have pets and it’s a very normal life. But he’s not mainstream and never will be.

[wizlizbelle3]

You don't need to feel it real + What SATs actually is

I'm going to link a reddit success story which I think explains SATs best and it's something I needed to remind myself as well. There's so much misinformation out there and people who say "oh you need to use all your 5 senses to do SATs correctly"

NO! The whole point is to detach from the 3D and focus on that 4D space and you can't do that if you're using your senses. Also, SATs is a state where you can barely even remember what your desire even is. Everytime I did SATs correctly, I couldn't remember my scene.

The reason it didn't manifest in the 3D is because I realized I was too tired and just gave up and went to sleep. But if you'e in the same boat then this post is gonna be really helpful for you. Please read all the way through properly.

So SATs is literally a state akin to sleep. Akin means similar to. So a state where you're basically asleep but also awake. You can move your body but you don't *want* to. You're too relaxed and tired. It's not a magical position or something where you can only do sats if you don't breathe for 3 hours or something. You're literally supposed to be super tired and the main key to manifesting through SATs is that your desire should be the last thought before you let go of waking consciousness. That's why it manifests because you re-direct your focus onto your desire which your subconscious then takes into command to reflect in your 3D.

This person in the success story did not even visualize. They just accepted it before they fell asleep. They didn't even loop the affirmation. Just before they knew they were super tired and going to bed, they affirmed once that they will receive good news regarding the health of their father. That's it. In a few hours, when they woke up, they got the news that their father will be fine. But the one thing that stands out to me is that people misinterpret what Neville initially said about SATs and this person understood it unintentionally.

Here's an excerpt from Neville's Q & A that somebody posted in the comments:

Question: I would think that if you get too much into the sleepy state there would be a lack of feeling.

Answer: When I speak of feeling I do not mean emotion, but acceptance of the fact that the desire is fulfilled. Feeling grateful, fulfilled, or thankful, it is easy to say, “Thank You,” “Isn’t it wonderful!” or “It is finished.” When you get into the state of thankfulness, you can either awaken knowing it is done, or fall asleep in the feeling of the wish fulfilled.

So the key is not to force yourself to be happy or feel some emotion but to remind yourself that you have it. You have to ACCEPT that you have it. I asked Chatgpt how to accept something. Here's what bbgirl told me:

Recognize and Acknowledge

What to do: Acknowledge the reality of what you have, whether it's something physical, emotional, or situational.

For Positive Manifestations: Celebrate it and affirm, “This is mine now.”

For Challenges or Conditions: Gently affirm, “This is my current reality, and I accept it.”

Why it helps: Naming and recognizing something removes resistance and denial.

Practice Gratitude

What to do:

Be grateful for what you have. Say, “Thank you for this. I am so glad it’s part of my life.”

Focus on the benefits or lessons it brings.

Why it helps: Gratitude shifts your focus from resistance to appreciation.

Let Go of Resistance

What to do:

Notice if you’re resisting emotionally or mentally.

Practice letting go of "what ifs" or "why nots" by focusing on the present.

Why it helps: Resistance keeps you stuck. Letting go allows for smoother integration.

MY TIPS:

Thank yourself. "Omg thank you me for being so amazing".

Affirm. Robotic affirming DOES WORK and it helps majorly with any other technique you use. Some people can just understand what the void is and apply but people who are suffering a lot can have doubts so do the robotic affirming. Do everything you believe in so your mind doesn't have the option to resist. Replace your thoughts with you desires by affirming. Listen to the right subs (I updated my playlist and will update it further) and just relax. You have to remind yourself that you have it already.

Let me know if y'all have questions!

Edit: I'm sorry I didn't even attach the link lol https://www.reddit.com/r/NevilleGoddard/comments/130mrwo/i_finally_did_sats_right_and_it_felt_completely/

[moonstruckme]

I love your headcanons of Tasm!Peter x chubby reader on a fall day, and I was wondering if you’d consider doing something similar but during winter/Christmas? I understand if not, because the headcannons were part of a follower celebration! Or maybe a fic with Peter and reader at a Christmas market? Sending you air kisses! 💋

Thanks for requesting lovely! I didn't really find ways to make this explicitly chubby reader but as always you're welcome to imagine her with any body type you like. Air kisses back! <3

cw: reader has hair long enough to put up/pull back

tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 665 words

Peter finds himself obsessed with your ears. You’ve forgone a hat and your hair is up, but you seem overall less concerned with the crisp wind than Peter is. Every time you stop in a stall, his hands come up over your ears, trying to coax warmth into them. You’re more or less ignoring him. 

“We should get you some earmuffs,” Peter says while you peruse a vendor’s selection of ornaments. 

“Why, when I have you?” 

“Rude.” He pinches the top of your ear. “I’m good for more than that.” 

You step to the side, and Peter follows dutifully, not making his point very well. 

“You’re the one who wants to do this,” you argue good naturedly. “My ears are fine. Also, we’re supposed to be finding things for other people, not ourselves.” 

Peter lifts one hand away from your ear, blowing hot air into his cupped hand. You jump and squeal, ticklish, apologizing hastily to the vendor when she looks your way. 

“Stop that,” you hiss at Peter, face still warm with the echo of your smile. When you take his hands and use them to pull him closer Peter doesn’t resist, his arms draping over your shoulders and his front against your back. 

He kisses your cheek complaisantly. “If I bought them for you they wouldn’t be for myself.” 

“Peter. Focus.” You hold up a small ornament. “Do you think your aunt would like this? She really likes elephants, right?” 

“She does,” Peter allows, “but she’s got, like, ten jillion elephant ornaments already.” 

You frown. “Do you think that means she might want more?” 

He weighs this. “Maybe. Her tree’s gonna collapse, though.” 

“This one’s light. It won’t be our fault.” You hold onto the ornament. Peter grins and smushes his lips to your face again. You squeeze his hands, turning your face like you’re going to kiss him but stopping when something catches your eye. “Oh.” Your voice bends with adoration. “Look at this.” 

You reach out to pull an ornament off the wall. It’s a small wooden bird, intricate, with strings attached to its wings and belly. Its body has been painted with tiny, meticulous brushstrokes to give it feathers of various colors. You pull gently on the string, and its wings move up and down. 

“That is cool,” Peter says. 

You’re charmed, eyes soft and happy. It’s the way you look out the window when it’s snowing or at dogs walking past you on the street. “It’s so lovely.” 

Peter has the urge to kiss you silly. “It is.” 

“Do we know anyone that would want this?” 

“You, obviously.” 

You give Peter a sideways smile paired with a playful glare. “Anyone else.” 

He hugs you close, mouth pulling to one side as he thinks. “I don’t think so, sweetheart. I mean, it’s really cool, but I don’t know anyone who would like it as much as you.” 

You pull the string again, watching the wooden bird’s wings flap ruefully. Peter knows you’ll never get it for yourself. 

“Hey,” he says, “let’s go get some shitty hot chocolate. I’m freezing.” 

Your smile renews. “You are not.” 

“Fine, you got me. I want to get you a hot chocolate because I’m worried your face is gonna freeze. Please?” 

“Okay.” You return the ornament to its hook, dotting a kiss on Peter’s cheek and gathering up the ones you’ve already decided to get. “Let me just buy these and we can go.” 

You know your boyfriend well enough to be suspicious of him. You keep a close eye on Peter as you pay for your gifts, chatting with the vendor and beaming when she gives you a little pouch with a ribbon for each one. He smiles guilelessly and lets you take him by the hand to pull him with you out of the stall. 

Fortunately, Peter is quicker than you give him credit for. His cash is on the counter and your ornament safely in his pocket before you turn the corner.