#don’t mind me I’m just thinking about my favorite old man again

[cosmic-hoboandthehighlander]

You ever just….

Old man Jamie?

Look at him. Just look at him! 😭

[sweetimpurity]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ day 8!! yay! can you believe we're already a week into october?? wc: 1.4k love ya! masterlist>>

The buzzing of the electric razor fills the small apartment bathroom. The mirror is still a little foggy, a towel around his waist. Hot water still dripping down his back from his hair.  His dark eyes focused on the angle of his jaw. Running the trimmer over the edge and shaving away the growth of a few days' time. The square of his chin and down to his neck, trying to get it all even. Running his fingers over the freshly shaven skin. Hair falling into the bathroom sink. 

“Hey babe?” He calls. Your spot on the bed, phone in hand, distracted. “Yeah?”

“Can you see if this is even?” 

He waits, looking at himself in the mirror. When did those crows feet come in? And the smile lines. Those seem new. “Haa…” He sighs.

“Lemme see…” You murmur, entering the bathroom behind him. The humidity high from the steaming hot shower he just indulged in. Standing in front of him now. His huge height. Looking over the job he did. He’s so handsome. You can’t help but smile.

When did the crows feet come in? He thinks. He can’t stop thinking about it. Waiting for your answer and thinking to himself. Not nice thoughts. “Looks even to me…” You hum, smiling up at him, eyes drifting down his broad, built chest. Chest hair littered over his pecs. It’s wildly attractive. One of your favorite things about his body. “Okay…” He sighs. Not meeting your eye contact. 

He turns the razor back on. The buzz filling your ears. But you’re too distracted by his body to realize what he’s doing. Looking down towards his stomach and he’s holding the razor to his skin. 

“No, what are you doing?!” You squeal, startling him frankly so he flinches in surprise. You hand gripping his wrist, looking up at him with utter betrayal and he’s completely bewildered. “What are you doing…”

“I’m shaving, cariño…” He hums. Voice as soft and silky as ever. Even when he’s looking at you like you’re a complete crazy person. 

“Well you… you can’t shave that…” You stutter. What is he thinking? 

“I don’t like the hair, baby… it makes me look old…” He says matter of factly, gripping the razor and attempting the ultimate crime once more. “No babe! No, please don’t. I will literally cry…” 

“Babe. It’s hair, it’ll grow back. And then I’ll shave it again.”

“It’s your happy trail, Miguel. Do not shave it.” 

“Happy trail? Makes me look like an old man.” He huffs with a scowl at himself in the mirror. Turning the razor up to a higher setting, the buzzing higher and louder than before. “No no!” You whine, wrapping yourself around him, pressing yourself to his abdomen. 

“Why not…” He huffs, a little annoyed now with you latched onto him like that, preventing him from just doing it.

“It makes me happy…” You whine pathetically. And he just sighs. “Well then I’m shaving my chest or something… there’s too much hair baby. It doesn’t look good.” 

“No!” You whine, taking your voices up a few octaves to try and convince him. “It looks good, Miguel, you always look good. Why do you wanna shave it?” You look straight up at him, pleading eyes. 

“Makes me look fucking old I-I have crows feet, cariño. And smile lines. And- and gray hairs!” He exclaims, leaning forward with you still latched around him. Leaning close to the mirror and spotting a few stray grays grown in and tainting his otherwise dark curls. “You’re perfect…” You mumble, your voice muffled by his chest crushing you against the bathroom counter. 

“Ow fuck.” He hisses, pulling the grays out, or trying to, one by one. 

“Baby… Miguel… mi vida, mi amor…” You hum, using all the pet names he calls you, trying to stop his mind, his tunnel of bad thoughts. You can’t believe he would think this way about himself. “You don’t look old… you don’t look bad…”

“Don’t lie…” He sighs, frowning down at you. More like a pout. You want to kiss it off his lips. 

“I’m not lying. I’m telling the truth.” You sigh. Clearing your mind with a deep breath. Trying to see this from his point of view too. “If you… want to shave… if you want to pull the gray hairs out… then you can… you can do whatever makes you comfortable…” You explain, detangling your arms from him. He just looks down at you, listening to your words. “But you don’t look bad… I think you look perfect. You are perfect… just like this.” 

“You’re not just saying that?” He frowns, raising his brow at you.

“No… Mig. I wouldn’t change a thing about you… honestly…” 

He can’t help the smile at your words. “Do you actually like it? You like me with all this hair…” He says as if he’s trying to convince you you’re crazy. That you shouldn’t be attracted to him like this because he doesn’t think he looks good. 

“You look like… a man, Miguel.” You say, trying to make a point and he gives you a doubtful look. Like you’re just saying that to make him feel better.

“When you’re deep in me baby… I need this…” You say quietly. Laying your hands on his chest. The hair, the tan, the warmth. His brow cocks interested. Your words are getting through to him now. “I need it, I love it, please don’t shave it…” You whisper, pressing yourself to him, your arms snaking around his waist. A warmer smile breaks out on his face. His frustration melted into something softer. His arms finally wrapping around you in return. Pulling you with him, walking backwards out of the bathroom, back to the bedroom. 

…

“Oh baby! Mmm!” You sob and whine. Making so much noise, bouncing on his big dick, working in and out. His hands gripping your hips, bearing his teeth at the effort it takes to not paint your walls white immediately. But the way you want him. The way you so easily just built up his confidence when it was crumbling. Drives him crazy. 

His eyes are glued to the way your tits bounce, bringing his big hands up to cup them. Rolling the pads of his thumbs over your nipples. Pulling whines from your throat. Just laying back and letting you do all the work. Letting you put on a show for him, watching you swallow him whole over and over. His big dick buried in your sweet perfect pussy. Your hands stay glued to his chest as you ride him. His abdomen. His precious happy trail now sloppy and sticky now with your cum and slick. His hairy chest flushed and reddened just a twinge from your fingernails digging into his pecs. 

“Fuck fuck… ah…” You sigh, thighs burning from the workout and slowing down. But you just want to come so bad. You can feel the burn starting to cool. Until he juts up into you from below. Hitting your cervix and making you double over, splatting onto his chest. His thick arms, also scattered with dark hair, locking around your body laid on his. Keeping you locked down and fucking his hips up into you. You can’t help but scream and squeal. Your fingers desperately gripping into the sheets at his sides for dear life. Held down, your tits squished against his hairy pecs, his happy trail leading to the dark hair at his base, kissing your clit and creating delicious friction with every bed shaking thrust. “Mig… M-ah… Miguel!” You’re a moany mess, fucked to dust and back again. 

Soon enough the friction starts a fire, your eyes fluttering back and coming on him with groans of his name. How perfect he is. How much you love him. Every part of him. He growls deep and rough, one especially hard pound into your hole and he’s spurting deep inside. And whatever doesn’t fit dribbles back out mixed with your sloppy slick, staining the sheets. 

“More Miggy… I want… I want more…” You whine, nuzzling into his neck since he’s still holding your arms to your sides in a vice grip. He’s coming down from the high and you’re such a little needy bunny. He sighs, feeling you trying to move on him again. Trying to suck him back in for more. Clicking his tongue at your pathetic attempts. And yet he still gives in, rolling over, pressing you down into the mattress, sinking back in through your silky soft walls. 

“You’re gonna give me more gray hairs, baby…”

Taglist!! love my sweeties!

@spooky-sculder

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@palomanh @maxad99

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[cherriegyuu]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C4skP1tuO6F/?igsh=MTNtamg3ZmM1aDgxbw==

Can u plssss make a husband mingyu fic of his daughter absolutely hating his haircut go from long to extremely short causing him to sulk and hate his own hair then y/n having to comfort him😭😭 this video legit reminded me of this instantly idek how

i'm not supposed to be taking requests but this was just something that stuck to my mind ever since i read it. so here it is! i hope you like it! i'm also just in time for his birthday

when he cuts his hair

pairing: mingyu x fem!reader genre: fluff word count: 769 warnings: slightly suggestive not proofread

You did your best to contain your smile, or at least tried to hide it, as your daughter cried into your shoulder, her small tears soaking your shirt and her hands balled into tiny fists in your hair. Under normal circumstances, you’d have taken her hand away but in that moment, it seemed like the only option to have her calm down. 

Your husband sat on the couch, the blanket you kept on the back of it wrapped around his head and shoulder, as his eyes were two full moons in his face. Mingyu was a mixture of laughter and unwashed tears as he watched your daughter cry into you. 

“I didn’t know” his voice came out in a whine, his hold on the blanket tightening “I thought it would be okay”

Mingyu had left the house that morning saying “I’m going to cut hair, I’ll be right back”. He had kept his hair longer for almost a year and it was probably one of your daughter’s favorite things about him — that and also the fact that Mingyu even existed. “Not only does she look like you the most but she also loves you the most” you’d half-heartily complain sometimes. 

It became some sort of routine, if she fell asleep with Mingyu around, she’d most definitely have her hand in his hair. Logically and rationally you knew that Hanna wouldn't like the new haircut, but you also didn’t think that it would be that much of a big deal. What you also didn’t expect was for Mingyu to come back with the shortest hair you have ever seen on him. 

You had known Mingyu for roughly twelve years and he always kept his hair on the longer side. While the sight was a fantastic one, Hanna didn’t seem to share the same idea. 

She ran to the door excitedly the second she heard the sound of keys on the lock to greet her dad. She had the biggest smile on her face and then it just disappeared as she took in her dad’s new look. Her small features contorted and her eyes filled with tears and she ran back to you, hiding behind your legs.

Like he usually did, Mingyu kneeled to welcome the hug that always came but this time there was none. 

You wished you had recorded the whole thing, the way Hanna started to scream her lungs out because “not daddy” and Mingyu was a few seconds away from crying. 

“Hanna” you cooed “you don’t want to say hi to daddy? He missed while he was away”

She shook her head.

“Not daddy,” she said again, the new tears coming down her face.

It took you a good hour to get her to settle down and sleep. Her body still shook with sobs when you put her in bed. 

Mingyu was in the living room, in the same exact position as before, the blanket still wrapped around his head. His eyes were sort of lost until he finally seemed to notice you were back. Once again his eyes were filled with tears. 

“Babe, no, it’s fine,” you said, approaching him. 

When you were close enough he pulled you to him, hands around your waist and his head resting on your stomach. Slowly you pulled the blanket away from him and ran your hand over his hair. There wasn't a lot to hold onto, there was barely any hair in between your fingers, just a little more at the top for a quiff.

“She hates me now,” he complained.

There were these moments when it was hard to tell who was actually the 2 year old and who was the grown man.

“She doesn't, she just needs to get used to it. You're her favorite person” you assure him “She's just surprised. When you left there was hair in your head”

Mingyu groaned at your laugh.

“I just wanted to try something different”

You held his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. Mingyu rested his chin on your stomach, beautiful dark eyes looking back at you.

“Do you like it, at least?”

You bit your lips, trying to keep yourself from saying that maybe you didn’t like it as much, that your favorite hair was that middle ground between short and longer. 

“You look younger” your words were slow, a little careful.

He groaned, pretending to cry, his arms getting even tighter around you. 

“Both of you hate it”

You bent forward and placed a kiss on his nose and then his lips until his pout was replaced by a smile. 

“At least there’s a little bit to hold on to”

taglist: @wonwooz1, @mirtaspace, @feat-sun, @belladaises, @immabecreepin, @miriamxsworld, @aaniag, @byunparklimchoi, @k-drama-adict, @maiamorrrrrrrrrrrr, @roguesthetic, @sofix-hc7, @moonlightgrleric, @mixling-blog, @haowonbins, @valgracia, @slut4donghyuck, @muantuankim, @shuabby1994, @sukiscones, @plumings, @aaa-sia, @bouclesdefeu, @hyangg11, @sea-moon-star, @writingbarnes, @strawberryroseee, @lovely-ficsfor-me, @lixisoul99, @jjeongddol, @whoa-jo, @poiibbtt, @seokqt, @palmsugr

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[kissitbttr]

your mafia!toji fic got me thinking so hard abt him😭😭 he’s deffo the type to just buy you sm stuff as an apology but when you don’t forgive him and sleep in a different bedroom mf will come into the room on his knees and beg for you to come to sleep 😩😩 imagine still saying no and him just flipping you onto his shoulders and carrying you to bed 🤭

oh you are absolutely correct!

|

“darling” toji softly calls you, letting out a tired sigh. “i said i was sorry. what am i supposed to do?”

“die” she replies nonchalantly, shoulders shrugging before grabbing a pillow and your favorite blanket off the bed,

he snickers, looking over at her with a raised eyebrow. “now, now that would be over dramatic don’t you think? won’t you miss me?”

he almost pisses his pants when she throws him a glare,

“okay. no jokes. got it” he put his hands up in surrender, feeling absolutely terrified at his baby being mad and speaking less than two words to him,

if anyone ever finds out that the most feared and notorious man in the city being tamed by his woman, he would never hear the end of it,

but she is scary. can you blame him?

toji looks over at the designer shoes and bags he just purchased a few hours ago, tucked neatly in the corner. untouched by her.

guess the apology gifts aren’t working,

“i didn’t know that she was coming, i haven’t even talked to her in years! never planned to anyway, you know i only got my eyes for my girl, right?”

she tries so hard not to roll her eyes,

toji had a meeting with one of the cartels at the club earlier that night. and of course, she always goes. it’s where he can always keep an eye on her and refuses to leave her at home all alone because he can’t risk that. also, because she’s his good luck charm. whenever she’s around, deals always goes well,

tonight was an exception though,

all was well until a certain person decided to crash. his old fling. one before he met his precious girlfriend. the red haired thought that it would be fun to press her fake ass tits against toji,

y/n was shocked to say at least. she didn’t say anything but her face spoke thousand words. toji could see that. throwing daggers at the bitch, corner of her lips quirk into a form of disgust.

and the worst part was? toji didn’t do anything about it! can you believe that asshole?!

something about being absolutely unprofessional if he was ever to push her off and it ticked y/n to the fucking bone so she decided to ignore him the rest of the night,

toji feels defeated when she chooses not to respond, simply just taking her stuff. he crouches lightly to look at her pretty face clearly. “baby… can you please look at me? I can’t stand seeing you mad. i’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you”

if it was any circumstances, sure she would melt and jump in his arms. but tonight is different. how could he?

she looks up at him and whisper “fuck. you” before turning around angrily and walk out of the door to go sleep on the guest room,

toji groans, the heel of his palms pressing against his eyes. she has always been so stubborn. too fucking stubborn. exactly why he had to get rejected seven times before she accepted his date.

what? he needed to get humbled, so she gave him that.

he contemplate for a while whether or not he should let her be or not. then he chooses the latter. it would probably be best if he let her cool off some steam for a while, he doesn’t want to do any more damage or make her feel more annoyed by his presence,

bet. not even ten minutes later, he feels like losing his mind without her here.

“fuck this shit” he mutters, getting up from the bed. rubbing his face furiously before stomping towards the other side of the room,

he walks in without knocking, ready to say what he needs to say again. yet he stops. heart clenching at the sight of his girl curled up in bed, back facing him.

“love?” he slowly walks over to her laying figure,

“go away” she speaks. now in a softer tone

“please” he begs, walking around the bed and catching a glimpse of her playing with her pink manicured hands. “sweetheart. I’m sorry” he repeats, going down to her eye level before letting his hand moves to rest on her bare thigh. he’s internally relieved when she doesn’t push him off,

he sighs when she’s not looking at him, seemingly only focused on the nails that she had gotten done a week ago.

“i should’ve pushed her off. shouldn’t let her touch me like that. hell, i shouldn’t even let her breathe near me. i know that” he realizes his mistake. “i didn’t even think about what my girl needed. i was being a horrible boyfriend”

no answer,

he sighs again, refusing to look away from her pretty eyes,

“baby—“

“i heard you the first time. leave. and close the door”

toji is taken aback. fuck. she really is mad at him.

“you don’t mean that”

“uhm, yes i do” she retorts in an obvious tone, sassily raising her eyebrow before scooting a bit further from him. she doesn’t realize this but it makes his heart break,

“princess, i swear-“

“go call that girl back to keep you company. let that fucking bitch sleep by your side” she mutters, looking at the tv instead of him,

he can’t take this anymore,

“you know what? that’s it” toji had enough, he will not be sleeping alone and neither will she. standing up on his feet, his hands reach out to circle around her ankles before tugging her body towards him causing her to yelp,

“toji! what the fuck are you doing-oh!” her voice gets cut off the moment he pulls her body up like she weighs nothing. throwing her over his shoulder. “put me down!” her fists start to hitting his back—as if they’re actually hurting him— legs swinging back and forth

“nope” he answers, keeping a firm grip around her waist before swatting her ass, locking the guest room behind him and walking back to their shared one. “you’re driving me crazy, woman—not saying that i hate it, but i’m pretty fucking beat tonight and we are going to sleep together. so stop fighting me”

she huffs, admitting defeat and letting him carry to the bed. “fuck you, toji”

he smirks at that. “oh i will, baby”

[fallstaticexit]

Prev / Next / Beginning / Pillowfort

AN: TW this post contains a homophobic slur.

Transcript under the cut

Professor Munch: Everyone, this is Nancy. She’s one of my favorite students. I am so glad she can join us this evening to observe our weekly GSA meeting.

Nancy: And what is a GSA?

Morgan: It stands for Gay–Straight Alliance. It’s just a safe space for queer kids to hang out and talk about real world issues.

Knox: Yeah, we go out and do stuff off campus. It’s pretty tight.

Nancy: Queer? So...this is a club for homosexuals?

Darling: [sucks teeth]

Knox: [chuckles nervously] I mean, sure I guess? Me and Morgan are bisexual. That means we dig the fellas and the ladies, heh.

Professor Munch: What’s important is that this space is for everyone, from all walks of life. We support each other here, no matter who you love. We keep each other safe. That’s why I invited you to sit in on our session. I figured you could use a friend or two-

Nancy: Ugh! Oh my God? You think I’m- I’m not like that, ok!?

Nancy: I am not a homosexual! What the hell made you think I’d want to be apart of something like this?

Professor Munch: No, dear- I’m not implying you’re like anything! This club welcomes all people. I thought you could use the support. Why, your brother started the very first GSA at this school-

Nancy: Oh, don’t you fucking dare! My brother wasn’t some depraved pervert and I’m not a d****!

Darling: [jumps up, chair scrapes hardwood floor] What the fuck did you just say? You can’t come up in calling people that shit!

Nancy: I-I didn’t! All I’m saying is that I’m not like that! I’m not like you-

Darling: Not like who? Not like a d?****?

Darling: What the fuck is your problem? Munch, who is this bitch?

Professor Munch: Easy, Dee. Calm down-

Darling: Don’t fucking tell me to calm down! You let some straight white girl walk in here and say something we heard screamed at us our whole fucking life! Say it again! I dare you!

Professor Munch: That’s enough! Please! Let me handle this.

Nancy: [between sobs] M’sorry...m’so sorry...

Professor Munch: [sighs] Just, take some time to think about this, Nancy. Look inward.

Nancy Narrates: [Look inward] x3

Nancy: If it’s ok...I’d like to apologize.

Professor Munch: Everyone? Is it alright if Nancy speaks?

Morgan: I don’t mind.

Darling: [sighs] Whatever man.

Nancy: [exhales] When I first heard that word, I was 11 years old. My mother found letters I wrote to my pen pal. She mailed a photo of herself from her birthday party, she wore this really pretty yellow dress with little blue flowers on them.

Nancy: Yellow is my favorite color, so I said she was as pretty as a sunflower. My mother tore up the letter and made me rewrite it. She looked me right in the eyes and said, ‘do you want someone to read this and think you’re a-’

Nancy: She said it again when was 14, a girl from my ballet troupe was only brushing my hair. She pulled me from the class. She said it again two years ago, when she found out that I fell in love with-

Nancy: I know that word hurts because it’s been said to hurt me even though I’m not... It doesn’t matter if I’m not, I shouldn’t have said it. It was a horrible thing to do. I am so incredibly sorry.

Professor Munch: Thank you for sharing your story. This is what GSA is about. Coming together, creating a community, and creating safe spaces. Dee, is there anything you want to say to Nancy? Anything you’d like to speak on or about how you feel?

Darling: Nah...

Nancy Narrates: [I knew that an apology alone wouldn't suffice to mend the situation. When it came to friendships, I didn’t know how to genuinely make amends, but as a Landgraab, I knew that I could leverage my wealth and status to create a meaningful impact]

Morgan: You got us the biggest hall on campus?! Nancy, this is sick as fuck!

Professor Munch: [laughs] I’ll have to agree with Morgan for lack of a better word. This is sick as heck! I don’t know where to begin to thank you for this gift.

Nancy: It’s the least I could do. Now you can stop meeting in that tiny corner in the commons.

Darling: Charity work for your little sorority, huh? What’s with you, yo?

Nancy: What do you mean?

Darling: You’re so rich, you just buy your way through shit?

Nancy: It’s how I was raised.

Darling: I can’t figure you out.

Nancy: I promise, I’m not a bad person.

Darling: We’re not like everyone else on campus. We’ll show you something real. You gotta be real with us too.

Nancy Narrates: [I found myself wanting to do exactly that—to show them the real me, whoever she was]

Siobhan: I’m planning a party for the Thetas Friday night. Perfect opportunity for you to bond with your sisters.

Nancy: I’m a little busy Friday night...maybe next time?

Siobhan: Being apart of a sorority is more than just the cute merch and bragging rights. We’re involved with the community and with this campus. As a pledge, I do expect you to commit to these things.

Nancy: I know and I will. I just need to take care of something.

Siobhan: [sighs] Don’t let me down, sister.

[the group murmurs excitedly]

Professor Munch: You did all this, Nancy?

Nancy: I hope it’s ok I’m here. I figured you could break in your new room with a movie night. Everything is already taken care of, and I bought a ton of movies ranging from comedy to horror and everything in between. They’re all yours to keep! Same with the popcorn machine. I know I’m using money again to impress you but... I guess I’m still trying to figure out what it means to be real. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it all.

Morgan: Yeah, not so fast. Stick around, watch a movie with us!

Nancy: Are you sure?

Knox: Of course we’re sure, squirt.

[planetallure]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ fic recs

CW: these works contain explicit content intended for those 18+. make sure to read the rules of the writers before interacting.

@peterthepark : coming back to this blog made me realize when exactly i started back reading fanfic fr. the moment that was eddie mf munson, touched something in me. reign was one of my first intros that really stuck with me. it kinda blew my mind and scared me at the same time because i was like…how do i move on…what’s better than this??? brilliance. creative genius. like what more do you want from me? reign, i miss you. <3

i rec literally anything she’s written about eddie or tasm!peter parker.

@ohcaptains : i really don’t know what to tell you man. leah. is. HER. she simply does not miss. funny story: when i first started my old blog, it was ageless so i ended up getting blocked. so i pm’d her basically begging to come back home because i knew what i had lost. i’m not ashamed.

"dealers choice" - if you happened to miss the moment that was eddie munson or you miss his character or you were never really into him, this lil universe is for you. <3

"learning in public" - carmy x fem!reader. he needs it. he wants it. he has to have it. a man on his knees. enjoy.

"don't you dare fall in love" - heads up this one was discontinued and will not be continued (so don’t go harassing her about it) but the last part has an open ending so don’t let that stop you. college student/dealer!ellie x fem!reader. it’s beautiful and perfect. enjoy.

also ALL of her frank castle, abby anderson, tasm!peter parker fics. thank youuu

@inknopewetrust : this woman is a W R I T E R. the beautiful angsty things that come from her brain need to be cherished. thank you for your service.

“hoping i’ll find [a glimpse of us]” - when i tell you this shit was so fricking good!!!!!?! another piece of LITERATURE that i couldn’t believe i got to read for free on tumblr. i am such a sucker for a angsty slow burn and this still lives in me head rent free to this day. the tension had me giggling and laughing and biting my nail and crying. i need to spin back. i need to feel something!!

“secret” : now this one was a sexy forbidden romance. eddie’s our man who isn’t our man but is and oh m gee the angst in this one got me too, though it wasn’t as much. preppy!reader x eddie munson iykyk.

@etherealising : the absolute sweetest person i’ve met on here. every interaction i have with her just makes me smile. on TOP of that she’s a beautiful writer and storyteller. vee you have my heart.

“all i ever knew only you” - the best carmy x oc fic i’ve ever had the pleasure of reading on here. i’m so emotionally attached to this series, its characters and i think it has such re-readablity . the characterization is also so well done carmy x baby 4life. it’s currently discontinued but she is currently doing a rewrite and it’s going really well! in the meantime, please don’t let that stop you from reading the original while it’s still up. you won’t regret it.

“a buried and a burning flame” - vee single-handedly has me looking a richie different now. like…wait a minute :)) the bickering and banter is so fun. tension? check. spice?? check.

“flew like a moth to you” - a continuation of the one above. babyyyy!!! yes, yes, uh huh 🙂‍↕️ these two? LOVE EM. he’s officially in my heart.

@totheblood : star is so kind and super creative. she has created some of my favorite ellie williams smau’s on here.

"the hard way" - rockstar!ellie williams x ex-gf!reader smau. you guys are brought together again to solve the mystery that is the anonymous account blackmailing the two of you. mmm, nothing like the takedown of a shady mf to bring the girls together again :)

@cherriesxinthespring : another sweetheart with a beautiful mind. ik people get the characterization/true nature of ellie so wrong, but not rosie. she gets it.

“wasteland, baby!” - the wlw true enemies to lovers slow burn i’ve been dreaming of. tap in. right now.

@elliesbelle

“nobody compares to you” : a deliciously angsty slow burn second chance romance (ex!ellie x f!reader)

all the text convos for abby and ellie.

@newasskid : this blog makes me so nostalgic. THE first fic series that i read and rebloged when i started my first ff blog, came from this writer. i honestly feel it was my first time reading fanfic that wasn’t a silly little wattpad story or imagine and i was honestly gagged. i was like, “this…this is literature.” what can i say? i love good ass characterization! and this one was no exception.

“hard knock life” - like i said i was gagged with how good it was. i read the first two chapters back in 2022 and i still remember the feeling i felt reading them. this new blog i’m making is a fresh start for me and a chance for me to get back into old fandoms. will be revisiting this one soon.

@lovelettersfromluna

"one of your girls" - biker!ellie/roommate!ellie/camgirl!ellie x f!reader ALL rolled into to this ridiculously sexy little universe!! i love these two so much :’(

"compass" - vampire!ellie !!!! my new favorite thing. the way luna writes her feeding on reader ALONE is the most erotic and intimate thing. my god this was hot.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

sending all of this beautiful writers my love and respect y’all are amazing and so important. <3

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Final Piece of the Puzzle

Pairing: College!Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: mostly fluff

Summary: Peter has been trying to find his way after Dr. Strange erased him from everyone on the planet. He goes to college, does his work, and tries to get by without the people from his old life. That is, until he meets you. No matter what kind of spell was done, you can’t forget Peter Parker.

Squares Filled: lost for @spider-man-bingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

All you need for this weekend is a lot of caffeine and a ton of silence. You have this term paper that is due next week and you haven’t started on it. This weekend will be free of distractions, friends, and everything else in your life. In order to get in the zone, you need coffee and lots of it. There is a coffee shop right next to your dorm that has your favorite iced coffee that only they seemingly know how to make. If you go anywhere else, someone manages to fuck it up. Not them. They know how to do it right. 

You walk into the coffee shop that’s not busy and put your order in for two iced coffees, one of which you’ll keep in the fridge. Today is Friday which means you just have to get through two classes and you can start on your paper afterward. After acquiring your coffee, you head for the front door with your head down. You’re not watching where you’re going and almost run into someone, causing your coffee to almost spill all over him.

“I am so sorry,” the man says.

You look up and see chocolate brown eyes and curly outgrown hair. The man has a sort of baby face that makes him look a lot younger than he is, but based on his university sweatshirt, he attends this college like you do. There’s something familiar about this man but you can’t quite place it. Maybe you don’t know him and he has one of those faces.

“No, it’s my fault. I wasn’t watching where I was going. Nothing spilled so you’re okay.”

“Okay,” he nods.

You nod once before stepping aside and walking out of the coffee shop. He turns and watches you walk off with a longing look on his face. Your first class goes by without a hitch, and you’re inside your second class before you know it. Your first class got out later than usual so the only open seats were located in the back. You look to the person to your right and pause when you see it’s the same man as the one you ran into.

“Hi again.” You sit down and look at his surprised look on his face. “What?”

“You remember me?”

“Yeah, I ran into you and almost spilled my coffee.”

“Oh, right,” he chuckles in embarrassment. “My name is Peter. Peter Parker.” You stare at him in a way that makes him start to sweat. “What?”

“Have we met before?”

“No, I don’t think so,” he mumbles.

“Are you sure? You look familiar.” He shrugs shyly and you decide not to make the man more uncomfortable. “I’m Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you,” he smiles.

You try to focus on the class but you keep feeling his eyes on you. You don’t entertain him by confronting him but you know he’s watching you. After class, you quickly leave and meet up with your friends while Peter follows closely behind you. Whatever weird behavior he exhibited during class is out of your mind by the time you meet with your friends. Peter pretends to be busy on his phone, but he’s watching you laugh with your friends.

You look like nothing bad has ever happened to you. You look so happy. How can he ever think to bring you back into his life now that he knows what you look like without him in it? You feel eyes on you and look over at Peter. He quickly turns and walks away from you.

Remember that no distraction rule? Yeah, that went right out the window. You tried to focus on your paper all weekend and got it done, but you kept thinking about Peter. Why is he refusing to leave your mind? You’ve met a lot of people and dated your share of men but none of them has ever stuck to you like Peter has. Have you met him before? If so, where? You’re a freshman in college so high school wasn’t that long ago. You’d remember Peter if he went to your high school.

To celebrate the completion of your paper, you decide to go to the local flower store and splurge on some flowers to liven up your apartment while your roommate is gone. She apprecioates splashes of color in the white apartment, and you both love the smell of the flowers on campus. The only one on campus sells the most beautiful flowers and they’re the only ones who carry your favorite kind of flower, the Franklin Tree Flower. It’s said to only grow on a specific set of trees that are nearly extinct, but this shop has direct access to those flowers.

“Hi, welcome in,” the store owner smiles when you walk in.

“Hi. Do you have the Franklin Tree Flower in stock?”

“Whatever we have out there is what we have. I’m not sure if it’s there or not.”

“Okay, thanks.” You walk around the small store and at every single flower they have but you can’t see the one you want. You’ll take any of these but that happens to be one of your favorites around. Not only is it rare, but it has a super sweet scent to them that you love. You turn the corner and see Peter with some flowers in hand. “Hi, Peter.”

“Oh, hi, Y/N. Pretty flowers, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“What are you looking for in here?”

“It’s a really rare flower; one of my favorites. Not many people have heard of it, but--”

“Franklin Tree Flower?”

You’re stunned into silence. You’ve never met anyone who has loved that flower much less know about it.

“Yeah, actually. How did you know?”

“It’s my favorite, too. I found the last bunch.”

You look down at the flowers in his hands to see four Franklin Tree Flowers.

“Lucky you.”

“I want you to have them,” he says and holds them out for you.

“Oh, I couldn’t. Those are yours.”

“They’re meant for someone special.”

“Why don’t we split them? You take two and I take two?”

“Deal,” he smiles.

He hands over two of the flowers and you inhale their sweet scent.

“Thank you,” you grin.

If you couldn’t get Peter out of your head before, you certainly can’t now. There is no way you don’t know who he is. You feel a sense of safety when you’re near him. There’s something about him that tugs at your heartstrings as if you two have known each other for a long time. No matter how hard you think or how close you are to figuring it out, you can’t seem to get over that hill.

Maybe if you talk to him about this, you might be able to figure out how to cross that hill in your mind. Peter doesn’t live on campus but you two just had a class together so you know he’s around here somewhere. You walk from your last class past the cafeteria and over to where the parking lot is. Peter doesn’t drive but the bike rack is there, and your shoulders sag in relief when you find him there trying to untangle his bike from the others.

He has extra things to carry so he’s trying to tie everything to the back of his bike but as soon as he fits everything together, something falls out and he has to start over.

“You piece of hubble bubble. Come on,” Peter complains.

You halt right there on the sidewalk when you hear his choice of words. You’ve heard that before. There was only one person who would use that instead of cussing. He didn’t like to cuss even though everyone around him did. He liked having friends but only his small circle because he felt safe with them. He trusted them above anyone else. He made new friends in the search to defeat Thanos. After coming back from the snap, he leaned on his friends for support at the loss of Tony Stark and his Aunt May. He tore a hole right into the multiverse and had Dr. Strange erase him from everyone’s mind.

How the hell are you remembering him now? You stumble back from shock and Peter looks up when he hears your outcry.

“Y/N!”

“Peter…”

“Yeah?”

“No, you’re Peter Parker. You helped save the world from Thanos. You brought those other Peter’s to our world. You made everyone forget who you are.” Peter drops everything in his hands and rushes over to you immediately. You fall into his arms and look into his eyes with tears streaming down your cheeks. “You were my boyfriend.”

“How do you remember that? Dr. Strange made it so everyone forgot me.”

“How could I forget you? You’re the love of my life.”

“I can’t believe you remember me. I can’t believe this is happening.”

Peter, with all excitement in his body, pulls you close and kisses you passionately. You keep him close with your arms around his neck and kiss him back with just as much passion.

“I told you I’d come find you,” he whispers.

“I missed you so much,” you giggle through the tears. You pull away from him completely  and wipe your tears. “I knew something was missing from my life.”

Peter pulls you in again and kisses you, and everything seems right with the world. It doesn’t matter if everyone else forgets him, you remember and that’s all that matters.

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[onelittlespiral]

Tf where someone's huge musky cock keeps turning others into massive muscle bros on accident?

FML: Cursed

Up front, I’ll say this one’s a bit different. Let me know if you all like it. -❤️

Everything was too bright. My head was pounding. Memories were fading in and out from last night. Fuck, how much did I have to drink last night? I stumbled out of bed, trying to forced myself towards the bathroom to take a piss. I had made a New Year’s resolution to quit the bottle. Yeah, so much for that. I managed a quick piss and splashed some cold water on my face. That helped a bit. At this point all I wanted to do was bury my head back in my pillow. Slowly, I shuffled back towards my bed:

“Yeah? You coming back for more of this?”

A man. A man was in my bed. A hunk of a man was flexing in my bed. My mouth hung open for a moment as my brain chugged to life. I couldn’t quite believe it.

“…God damn it! Uggh, what did I let happen?”

“What, not in the mood? I can be quite,” he started a little pec dance, “persuasive.”

I was not in a mood to be amused by his flirting. “No, no it’s not you-or at least it is you now but-” I stammered, “Look. It’s complicated. Get up, please, I need you out of here. If you take some time to… cool off… it should pass.” I paused a moment, “I’m sorry.”

Quickly, I started pulling together what clothes I could find that would fit his new stature and tossed them at him. Even facing away from him I could tell he was a little taken aback. I’m sure in his current brain he couldn’t quite believe he was being rejected. But I knew it was better for everyone that he leave now. I scooped up his old clothing and threw it all into a tote. It wasn’t his fault he was here in this situation, getting kicked out of a stranger’s house early in the morning. Maybe that’s why I scribbled down my contact info and slipped it into the bag. He would have questions later, he deserved some answers. By now he had managed to put on the cut off tank and the shorts I had thrown him. The shorts were a size too small and left nothing to the imagination, but it would have to work. I doubted his canvas shoes would fit over those behemoths. He would have to go barefoot. After a few awkward pleasantries where he asked me if we should lift together some time and I politely declined, he finally got the message and slipped out the door. I locked it behind him and slumped to the floor. I still had a headache.

It was going to be a long day. At this point I was awake, so I just decided to hit the shower. The steam helped clear my mind so I could try to piece the night together. It had been two years now and it was still happening. I wish I knew how to stop it. But looking back, I’m not sure what else I could have done. Every time it happened though, every time I saw his face, I just replayed that day again in my mind:

We were sitting at our favorite cafe when I broke the news.

“What do you mean? You’re breaking up with me?” my ex boyfriend was stunned. Truly, I don’t think this had ever happened to him before.

“Please don’t act surprised. We both knew this was coming. We aren’t good for each other.”

“Baby, we aren’t good for each other,” he cooed, leaning over and cupping my jaw, “We’re great together. You can’t pretend to deny it. I can feel that cock twitch, hear every moan when you’re inside me. Come on, let’s go home and I’ll bring you to your knees.”

“No. This isn’t about us in bed. This is everything outside of it. I don’t like how you talk to me, how you treat me, how you touch me,” I said, slapping his hand from my face, “and how you treat everyone in the world as your plaything. I just can’t put up with it anymore.”

That finally set him off, “Oh, you have no idea what I can do.” He snapped his fingers.

I watched as a man in a suit next to us dropped his book. He began to convulse, and I watched in horror. He reverted from his fifties to his late twenties in a moment, smoothing his wrinkles as his hair turned from silver to brown. His skin tightened around his swelling body, as his muscles easily ripped through his shirt and pants. A deep moan escaped his mouth as his clothes reformed themselves into a tank top and gym shorts. As a snap-back hat formed and tightened around his head, I grimaced, knowing that his mind was being assaulted with a new identity. I knew the look on his face well as drool flowed from his open mouth. Then, all at once it stopped. He just picked up his book and kept reading. No one else even seemed to notice what had taken place.

It was a thinly veiled threat and we both knew it. “See? This is the shit I’m talking about. What happens to him now? He had nothing to do with this, you just can’t contain yourself.”

“Oh relax, he’s fine. I didn’t dumb him like I do to you. No one will ever remember anything different. Though I imagine whatever new hires at his firm will be confused why the new boss is a jacked gym bro while everyone else in the office is pushing 40 and wearing suits.” He chuckled at his own joke.

“I can’t! I can’t do this anymore. I don’t ever want to see you again.” I gathered my things to make my exit.

He came round the table, in a far less joking mood, “You’ll regret that,” he grabbed at my groin and cupped my package, “from now on, whenever that gets going, I have a feeling you will be seeing a lot of me” I felt a stirring in my sack. Something had… shifted?

“What did you do?” my shouting had finally drawn the attention of onlookers.

“Good luck, baby. You ever want that resolved, you’ll have to find me.” With that, he turned heel and left.

Now, two years later, he was right. I had seen far too much of him. The water had gone cold. I turned the faucets off and stepped out to dry myself off.

The first time had been a shock. I had given myself time to heal from the relationship, but about two months in I decided to head to a bar. Immediately something was off when I entered. I saw a few old flings, and a friend or two who were surprised to see me there. But it was like when I entered the whole place shifted towards me. Men were buying me drinks and fawning for my attention. The bartender even slipped a few comments in. They all looked smitten with me, trying to get just a little closer. By the end of the night I had some twink sitting in my lap. I decided it was time to blow off some steam. I took him to my place, where he immediately began tearing off my clothes inside the door. I managed to get him back to my bedroom before he had my boxers off. Immediately he buried his nose into my bush. Admittedly I hadn’t been keeping shaved since the breakup, and I guess that was doing it for him. He went to town on my cock. I wasn’t prepared for him to take it in one thrust, but he wasn’t waiting. All I could do was grab his hair and hold on as he worked my cock like a pro. I felt his hair curl beneath my fingers as I held on for the ride, moaning as he pushed all my buttons. He knew just when to pull back to keep me edging, his thick fingers holding on as he devoured my cock. Finally I knew I needed to fuck him. I pulled him off of my cock, but as he stood up and his dazed expression met mine I screamed.

“Fuck baby, where have you been all of my life?” he said.

He was the spitting image of my ex. The hair, the muscle, even that stupid nickname. In shock I pushed him away as he gave me a look of confusion.

“What are you doing here? I told you I never wanted to see you again.”

He looked back at me confused, “What are you talking about? We just met like a few hours ago. You invited me over. Sorry.”

Something about the statement rang true. I only realized later it was because he apologized. My ex would never. “Did he put you up to this? What’s your name?”

“Hey, I’m not sure who you’re talking about, okay? I’m Justin. I was just looking for a good time.”

“Have you seen yourself? You don’t look like the twink I met at the bar.” I retorted

He looked in the mirror, and his face seemed to puzzle for a sec. I knew that look. He was trying to reconcile memories he had. Fake memories. Then he smirked, “Yeah, pretty hot right? I’ve been working out, getting that more twunk look going.”

So he was clueless then. It was weird seeing someone look so much like him, and have a mix of his mannerisms and others. He had certainly made sure his cockiness was implemented. The asshole.

“Look, I’m not sure tonight is going to work out. I need you out of here. Now.” That was a little mean, it wasn’t his fault. But he had to go. I gave him some of my ex’s clothes he had left lying around and pushed him out the door without saying goodnight. It was only next week when I went to the bar that I saw him again. He had seemingly gone back to normal, besides a very distinctive mustache and stubble he was growing now. It didn’t fit his thin, hairless body and it made me chuckle…

*BZZZZZT*

My phone was getting a call from an unknown number. I guess it was time to answer some questions:

-Hey, I found this number in my bag. This the guy from last night?

*Sigh*

-Yeah, it’s me. Are you, uh, feeling better? More… yourself?

-So I’m not crazy! What was that? What happened?

-I am so so so sorry. It’s a long story. Let’s just say my ex is… a looot.

-Well hey, who’s isn’t?

I chuckled

-You’re taking this surprisingly well. Most guys don’t want to look at me after all this.

-So this has happened before?

-Yes. But I promise I didn’t mean to. I must have gotten too drunk last night, and I know that’s not a good excuse. But I’m not sure what to do about it and at this point I’d starting to think I never will

-Woah, woah. Calm down. Would you want someone to come over? To talk to?

I paused.

-No, I think I’ll be fine.

-Please, I want to. I want answers and it seems like you need someone.

-I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Plus, I don’t think I can see you like that.

-I promise. I don’t think I have anything the same.

-Promise?

-Here, look

He did look back to normal. And he was quite cute. I can see why drunk me decided to pick him…

-Still, I’m not sure…

-Nope, it’s decided. I know the address, I’ll be there later tonight around 6. *click*

What had just happened? I think, against all odds, I just got roped into a second date.

God damn it.

[d0youc0py]

So, I have a request for angst, but with Young Reader, and they actually do call them an ask for help or a place to stay for a bit because of a nasty fight they got into with their parents and just need to leave the situation, perhaps they could have hid an injury(Welt, slap mark, bruising) from the boys only for boys to see it when they take off their coat/jacket. Its cool if you dont feel comfortable with this ask, you dont have to do it.

“Hey, John.” You started into the phone.

“You alright, Honey?” He questioned. You nearly rolled your eyes. The man had known you since you were as tall as his knee and could always tell when something was wrong.

“Not really.” You lied. You scrunched your face and took a deep breath. “Actually yeah- my mom came home in one of her moods again, but”-

“Where are you? I’ll come and get you.”

You could hear his car keys jingle on the other line and the familiar sound of his truck door slamming shut.

“I’m at the park down the street.”

“Hold tight, honey. I’ll be right there.”

It was about a fifteen minute wait. John lived all the way out in the country, another thing you loved about him. His truck pulled up and he quickly hopped out to open the door for you.

“Thanks John.” You sighed, giving him a quick hug.

“Course, honey. Now how about we go get some dinner, hmm?” He patted your back. It was gentle but enough to make you wince.

He took you to your favorite restaurant, the same one your father use to take you to. He sat across from you, not needing to look over the menu. His soft blue eyes trained on you.

“You ready to talk about it?” John asked. Your eyes peered up from behind the menu. You don’t know why you were even looking at it in the first place. You always ordered the same thing.

“Same old thing.” You responded, sifting in your seat.

“Don’t give me that, honey.” He pressed. “You’ve never called me before. I always hear about a fight after I’ve shaken you down.” He offered you a small smile. It’s wasn’t one of pity, but understanding. He’s always been there for you, so why won’t you just tell him the truth?

“Don’t get mad.” You whispered. John instantly faltered. It was a common cycle. When he was on leave he’d take you out at least two times a week. You’d tell him about some shitty thing your mom said to you and he’d race over to your house and threaten her to knock it off. She’d be on her best behavior for about a week, then the cycle would repeat itself. “Look you’re already upset.” You gave a fake chuckle.

“Honey.” He huffed. His eyes bore into yours with such intensity it made your tiny hairs stand up.

“It started off just like our fights always do. She started yelling and I just made my way to my room to bunker down for the night.” You stopped to take a small sip of your water.

“You locked the door?” John hummed. He had built you a special lock to go on your door.

“I didn’t make it that far.” You murmured, tears forming in your eyes. John’s hand reached across the table attaching to yours, giving you an encouraging squeeze. “She threw something at me.” You whispered.

“Threw something at you.” He repeated.

“I know it so stupid.” Your hands left his to paw at your eyes. You hated crying. His hands remained on the table giving you the option to return to him.

“She hurt you honey? That’s the furthest thing from stupid.”

“It was one of those ceramic cats she collects. It hit me in the back.” You gasped. You wouldn’t doubt if there was a large bruise forming as you spoke. “Do you mind if I stay with you for a little bit? Just till things cool down?”

“Honey, you could come live with me.” He assured. This wasn’t the first time he offered, but giving the increasing hostility your mother was showing this was the first time you really considered it.

“I don’t think I can just live with you, John. Isn’t that illegal- like kidnapping or something.” You sputtered.

“That’s not for you to worry about, honey. I’ll handle everything, just take some time and think about it.”

He woke up to the sound of glass shattering so loud it sounded like it was in his room. His body made quick work of throwing the covers off and heading towards his front door. He didn’t bother to shut his door behind him or throw on a pair of shoes. His body was already hot and shaking with anger. His fist pounded against your front door giving some warning of his presence before he used his shoulder to nearly split the door open.

He quickly found you on the floor your mother grabbing at your hair.

“Shit!” Your father yelled from the kitchen. Your father had been enjoying the whole spectacle of your mother tormenting you with a smile and a beer in his hand. Your mother look up at Simon, her own eyes growing wide with fear. He grabbed her by the arm throwing her backwards off of you.

“Who the fuck do you thi”- Your father started.

“Shut up and sit down.” Simon growled. Your father quickly obeyed siting down at the counter, your mother scurrying backwards to join him.

“Come on kid, on your feet.” He was soft with you, refusing to add anymore trauma to the situation. He wrapped an arm around your middle to steady you and you hid your face in shame.

“You can’t just take them. I’ll have the police dow”- Your father spoke up again.

“I told you to shut it. And what? You gonna call the police on me tough guy? Do it.” Simon spat. Your father piped down again the realization of his threat setting in. Simon led you out of your apartment and into his own. “Sit down, tell me where you’re hurt. Might need to take you to the hospital after that one, kid.”

The only way you could respond was through sobs. You practically threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his middle. He sighed softly, not in contempt but in mercy. He wrapped a bulky arm around you, using your head as a chin rest. He related to you in all the worst ways.

“I don’t wanna go back.” You sobbed against him.

“I know you’re scared.” He said softly. “You’re gonna stay with me for a while, yeah? You have a key anyways might as well.”

He groaned as his phone went off from somewhere in his bed. He patted around, his eyes burning as the made contact with the blinding light.

Your face lighting up his phone ripped the drowsiness from his body.

“What’s wrong, kiddo?” His voice was gruff and he cleared his throat.

“Mac.” You cried from the other end.

“Fuckin hell.” He growled. “Where are you, sweetheart?”

“I’m sorry. They just started yelling at me and I got scared and now I don’t know what to do.” You sobbed.

“You did exactly what you were suppose to do. You called me. Now take a few breaths and tell me where you are. It’s late you shouldn’t be out by yourself.” He slipped his feet into his shoes and grabbed his keys from the entry table. He opened the door only to come face to face with you. His face scrunched as he took in your appearance. Your hair a mess, your face tear stained and you were shaking uncontrollably.

His heart dropped when he caught sight of a ruby colored mark on your cheek.

“That better not be what I think it is.” He gritted. You just cried harder. “Inside, now.” He snipped, making room for you brush past him.

“No, Mac please.” You sobbed. Your hands fled towards his arm and you leaned against him. You needed comfort. You needed assurance that everything was going to be okay.

“I’ll be back in twenty minutes. I can’t just let them get away with it Y/N.” He snarled. He gave you a kiss on the head. He began to pull his arm away but you just gripped him harder.

“Mac, please. I need you.” Your voice was soft. So weak and so vulnerable it made him stop dead in his tracks. “Please.” You whispered again. An apology flowed from his mouth and he quickly wrapped two strong arms around you, pulling you tight against him. You instantly relaxed.

“You’re right.” He murmured. “You’re safe now.”

“Ky, Can I stay with you please?”

You had asked him that a little over a week ago. He agreed immediately- perks of being one of his most favorite people on the planet. You didn’t really tell him why, just that you had gotten into a small ‘altercation’ with your parents.

That brings you to where you are today.

“If you don’t want me I can just leave Kyle.” You huffed, already collecting your things from the guest bedroom.

“Lovie, don’t do that!” He shouted after you. “My door is always open for you and you know that. I would just like to know exactly what happened. Considering you’re practically living with me now I think I have a right to know.” He explained. He grabbed the things out of your bag, hanging them up again.

“Kyle, stop! I’ve obviously overstayed my welcome. I’ll be out for your hair in no time.” You rubbed at your face harshly, trying to rid yourself of any tears.

“Y/N. Enough. Please stop.” His words were firm. It made you cry harder. “I didn’t mean to upset you so bad.” He assured. His hands came up and grabbed your wrists so he could get a better look at your face. He pulled you close to him. “I also need to know how upset I should be with your parents. If it’s really bad we need to get you out of there.” He explained. You sniffled, wiping at your face again.

It was then he saw it.

A deep purple bruise on your wrist. How didn’t you flinch when he grabbed it?

“That answers my question.” He sighed. You gasped and pulled your sleeves down. “Is that the only one?” He pressed. His fingers rested under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. He repeated his question.

You softly shook your head.

“I have one on my side too.” You sniffed.

“Y/N look at me please.”

You did as he requested.

“I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you don’t have to go back, okay? But I need you to be completely honest about everything, yeah?”

A small sob left you and you quickly wrapped your arms around him.

“I love you, Ky.”

[trentsgirl]

— 🗝️⋆⭒˚｡⋆

⟡ summary: as a renowned actress and the partner of footballer joão felix, you find yourself attending an interview, unaware that he is actually the one conducting it.

⟡ content: fluff, a little proofread, reader a bit of a dumbass for not realizing but it had to be this way, nardwuar reference in the end.

⟡ request: here:))

⟡ masterlist.

when you were informed that you’ll be interviewed, you expected to have a face-to-face interaction. however, you were surprised when they placed you in front of a camera and inserted an earpiece, explaining that the interviewer could see you, but you couldn’t see them.

you didn’t think much of it and decided to go along with the situation. however, in hindsight, it would have been wise to question the unusual setup, considering that your boyfriend, joão, was the one conducting the interview as a prank on you.

clearly, you had no idea.

“hello, i’m spencer, and i will be conducting the interview today,” a male voice resonated through the earpiece.

joão couldn’t help but chuckle at his attempt to put on a fake british accent. it was quite comical, yet once again, you didn’t find it peculiar and simply nodded in response.

“hello,” you greeted with a smile directed at the camera. “i’m y/n.”

you heard joão humming before he rudely questioned, “is that what you’re planning to wear for the interview, ma’am?”

upon hearing joão’s remark, your smile quickly faded, and you glanced down at your dress. you were wearing a beautiful white sundress adorned with blue flowers, a dress that joão actually adored and considered one of his favorites.

however, his comment was part of the question he was given by production.

you chuckled awkwardly in response, stealing a quick glance at your manager who was standing with the production team. your manager simply shrugged his shoulders, leaving you to address the question. “um, do you not like it?” you asked, trying to maintain a light tone.

joão hummed once again, his disapproval evident in his tone, and you barely was able to resist rolling your eyes.

“it’s lovely, ma’am. i was just wondering.” he said, although it was clear that he didn’t truly think so.

“anyways, let’s start shall we?”

“yeah, sure.”

joão proceeded with the question and had to restrain himself from bursting into laughter due to its absurdity. “alright... so, why do you think men like you? is it because of big breasts or personality?”

the unexpected question caught you off guard, causing your eyebrows to jump in astonishment. you were under the impression that the interview would focus on your new role in bridgerton, not about your breasts.

“I’d liked to say personality but we both know that’s not true.”

your answer prompted a few chuckles from the production team, but joão restrained himself from laughing, aware that you would immediately recognize his distinct laughter.

“do you genuinely believe that you have big breasts, ma’am?” joão asked solemnly.

glancing down at your chest, you took a brief moment to assess before raising your gaze and nodding. “yes, i suppose so.”

and again, there’s that stupid hum.

joão continued with the next question, “alright, moving on. who do you believe should pay for the first date? the man or the woman?”

you were still puzzled about how any of these questions were relevant to your show, but you chose to answer to avoid causing any disruptions.

“i don’t really mind,” you shrugged. “whenever my boyfriend and i go out, he usually insists on paying, but i would be more than happy to pay. he just never lets me.”

joão smirked, knowing well that what you had said was indeed the truth. he had never dared to let you pay for anything, even though you were one of the highest-paid actresses in the industry.

he held old-fashioned views and saw nothing wrong with it.

“more than happy to pay? i haven’t heard a woman say that, like ever. that’s new… are you sure you’re not just saying it?”

joão noticed that he had upset you when he saw your stern and intense expression through the camera.

it was evident to anyone watching the interview that joão was thoroughly relishing the opportunity to annoy you.

“i’m sure, spencer.”

he could recognize the annoyance in your voice. he realized that spencer had made it onto your list of least favorite people. it was amusing to joão how you actually maintained a physical list of people you weren’t fond of.

“why do you always let your boyfriend pay for everything? doesn’t it make you feel guilty? what a poor guy...” joão remarked, his voice dripping with feigned disappointment.

you managed to maintain your composure and professionalism, although it was a challenge. who did this guy think he was, pushing your limits like that?!

“I can assure you we’re very happy, next question, please.”

you were eager to talk about a different topic, nothing that involved your boyfriend or personal matters. that wasn’t the focus you had in mind for the interview.

“alright.. why do you prefer to sleep on the right side of the bed and not the left side?” joão inquired.

you appeared visibly unsettled. the only person who knew which side you slept on was joão and only him. not even your manager was aware of this detail.

“how on earth do you know that?” you wondered, a disbelieving chuckle escaping from your lips.

joão tried to maintain a serious demeanor, but your facial expressions were absolutely hilarious. they were pure gold. your level of discomfort was evident, and you made no attempt to conceal it.

“you’re y/n l/n, we have got to know.”

you cast a pleading glance at your manager, silently urging him to bring this ridiculous interview to a close.

“this is getting too strange for me. i don’t think i wanna continue with this interview,” you stated, reaching to remove the earpiece, but spencer intervened to stop you.

“wait, just one more question and we’ll be done!” he assured you.

you out a sigh, reluctantly acquiescing. mentally preparing yourself for yet another bizarre question, you were taken aback by what he actually said.

“how does it feel to be pranked?”

immediately, you recognized the portuguese accent of your boyfriend, who was clearly amused and laughing uncontrollably.

“joão? oh, i’m so going to kill you!”

[murdockparker]

Promises, Promises

Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Five years is a long time to be together, Peter knew that. Peter also knew that everything was expensive—but he had an idea. A little juvenile, sure, but it was an idea regardless.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: mentions of sex (no smut), reader is a nerd, Star Wars hot take?

A/N: I haven't written for Peter in a hot second, but I'm glad to get back into the swing of things ;) i'll see myself out now

An old pop song blasted through the small shop, possibly from the eighties or nineties, it was hard to decipher, given that the boombox playing the song was probably older than she was.

“Do you need more toilet paper?” She asked across the aisle, hoping someone would answer back—a certain someone in particular. 

“Nah,” she could see a mop of brown shake from over the packages, “I just bought some last week.”

“Peter, if you’re lying to me and you’re out of toilet paper again I swear on all that is holy—”

“Babe,” Peter said softly, peaking around the corner, “trust me. It’s not gonna be like last time.”

“Oh? You mean the time I was stranded on your toilet while you ran out to buy some more?” She nearly had laughed at the memory, but decided against it, having far more fun antagonizing her boyfriend. “That last time?”

He went positively crimson, from his neck to his ears. He always looked good in red, she thought, but she liked this red the best. “I am one thousand percent positive—I think I still have the receipt in my back pocket.”

“You said you bought some last week though? You haven’t washed those jeans yet?”

Peter shrugged. “I haven’t worn these that many times since last week…”

She laughed at that, pulling a bag of chips off of the shelf. Changing her mind, she pulled another as well—her favorite and his favorite. “Okay pretty boy, I believe you. I also believe we’ll be making a stop to the laundromat tonight, too.”

“Can we do it tomorrow?” Peter groaned, grabbing the snacks from her and holding them close. “I’m not in the mood tonight.”

“Obviously you haven’t been in the mood for a week,” she rolled her eyes. “But sure, we can go tomorrow. Tonight, we feast like twelve year olds and binge our favorite movies.”

“How did I get so lucky?” Peter sighed, leaning up against the shelf, eyes locked on her. “A pretty girl willing to watch Star Wars, eat cheese puffs and date me?”

“Don’t forget the hot, hot sex you’ll have with the pretty girl after,” she winked, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “Speaking of—”

“Restocked those too,” Peter said proudly. “Bought them with the toilet paper—could show you the receipt if you want. Bet you’re glad I held onto it, right?”

She pushed him away, her nose scrunched up in disgust. “I take the offer of sex back, I’m still not over those dirty jeans.”

“I’ll shower!”

“Just buy the snacks,” she laughed, shoving him towards the cashier. “I’ll rethink my offer in the meantime.”

“Aye aye, boss,” Peter saluted, turning hot on his heels to the front. She couldn’t help but smile, watching him laugh with the bodega owner, pulling crumpled bills out of his pockets and pressing them against the counter. There was hardly anything that Peter Parker could do that she didn’t find endearing—find something to smile about. 

“Local news tonight, late last night in Manhattan, our favorite web slinger was seen assisting with directing traffic during the power surge,” a reporter on the T.V. in the corner of the store announced, the screen showed Spider-Man waving traffic along, webbing a car to stop before it crashed into another oncoming vehicle. “Local authorities showed up minutes later to take over, sans-webs.”

“Huh,” she clicked, feeling her smile grow wider. “He's been spending time in Manhattan?”

“Spider-Man gets around town,” Peter shrugged, finally returning beside his girlfriend, their purchases in white plastic bags. “Can’t always stay in Queens, can he?”

“Helps if Spider-Man goes to school in Manhattan, no?” She teased quietly, elbowing Peter lovingly.

“He had time after class,” his voice matched her own, low and slow, opening the door and finally walking out onto the street. “What? Was he expected to let everyone crash their cars while the stoplights went out?”

“No,” she hummed, noticing quickly how Peter took the outside of their strides, closest to the street. He always did that. The notion warmed her heart, the feeling flooding to her toes. “Good thing he was there to help out. I’m sure the police were thankful.”

He snorted. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Okay,” she conceded, head falling onto his shoulder. “Yeah, that was dumb to say.”

The rest of the walk was silent, as silent as it could get in New York City, anyhow. Comfortable, the beats of the city passing by with every step towards Peter’s apartment, hands intertwined with the other. Occasionally, he’d tug her back and stop her from stepping into the street, clearly knowing she’s not paying attention to the changing pedestrian signs. She’d squeeze his hand back in thanks. 

“Have you thought more about moving in?” Peter asked, trying his best to unlock the door to his apartment, wrists heavy from the bags. “Y’know, I’m sure I can get you added to the lease if I asked.”

“Thought about it,” she hummed, gently taking the bags from him. “I just… your place is a bit small.”

“What?” He scoffed, finally pushing the door open and allowing her to enter. “You’re saying this luxurious suite is too small?”

It was comical, the timing of his statement. She could hardly turn her neck and she’d get a full view of Peter’s apartment—minus the bathroom. He could only afford a studio, and even then it was bursting at the seams, with all of his school work, his work work and his ‘unofficial’ work work, the place was a mess. He tried his best to keep it tidy, he really did. It was never filthy, just overrun by stuff. 

“Babe, you’re growing out of your own space,” she laughed, double checking she locked the door behind them—it had a habit of sticking. “How’d you think I’d fit in here?”

“Preferably on my lap, or in my bed,” he smirked. “But… yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s a little cramped.”

“It’s not that I don’t love you, or love spending time here,” (Y/N) clarified. “Hell, you’d think after all these years I’d have moved on if that was the case.”

“Has it been that long?” He asked rhetorically, opening the bags in the kitchen—if you could call it that. 

“I won’t even pretend to act insulted you’ve forgotten how long we’ve been together, Parker.”

“Time flies when you’re in love,” Peter nearly sings. “Five years is a long time, feels like just yesterday I was nervously asking you out.”

“I asked you out,” she corrected. “I know, I know, five years and a hell of a lot of brain damage from crime fighting can make you misremember—”

“No way,” he scoffed. “I distinctly remember sliding a note in your locker between classes. Super cute, very sappy, I might add.”

She hopped up on his counter, with what little space he had free, anyway. “Did you? You seem to be forgetting how I pulled you aside after science class and, very confidently, I might add, asked you out for milkshakes after school.”

“That was the day I left you the note,” Peter blinked. “I just assumed you read it and were moving the process along.”

“Wait,” she barked a laugh. “I thought you left the note after I asked you out?”

“Nope,” he popped the ‘p’. “Left it for you that morning, chemistry wasn’t until after lunch.”

“Huh,” she breathed, shoulders deflating. “I guess we both asked each other out on the same day.”

“Can’t believe it took us five years to figure that out,” Peter laughed, patting her thigh. 

“Knowing us? I’m surprised it didn’t take us ten.”

Ten years.

Ten years with her. 

The thought alone made Peter buzz with happiness. 

“We’re both pretty smart people,” Peter squeaked out, fighting his own body, hoping and praying a childish blush won’t give him away. “We would’ve figured it out before then.”

“I dunno, seems unlikely,” she opened a bag of chips, impatient to start their evening. “What are we starting with tonight? Phantom Menace?”

“We started with Phantom Menace last time, chronological order,” he scrunched his nose. “I think we should go by release order this weekend, just to shake things up.”

“Okay, nerd,” she said, her voice filled with affection. Hopping off the counter, she walked towards his couch. “I’ll go get A New Hope set up, then. You plate the snacks.”

“I’ll pull out my finest china,” Peter said. He opened the cabinets to find two bowls, one for each of the bags of chips. They were mismatched and two totally different sizes, but they were free from the old neighbors, so he made do.

“Y’know, I don’t think the debate between release order versus chronological order is all that great,” (Y/N) said, mostly to herself. “I mean, there’s a thousand other things Star Wars fans can get caught up in arms in, but the order in which to watch the movies? Oh no, someone man the Reddit boards! What a crock of shit. It doesn’t matter anyway, they’re all good movies.”

He chuckled, clearly amused by his girlfriend’s rant. “All of them? That’s a controversial opinion.”

“If I had a good time watching it, it was a good movie,” (Y/N) said simply. “Not everyone’s a critic.”

“Clearly.”

“Do you not agree?”

“I agreed the last time we had this conversation,” Peter droned, though not bored in the slightest. “Though, I will admit, I was perhaps a bit distracted, on account of your nakedness.”

“Our pillow talk gets heated,” she said, no hint of shame in her voice. “Only intellectual conversations afterwards, to ground us and all after… everything.”

“Because the sex is that good?”

“Because the sex is that good,” she agreed.

“Maybe I should plan that shower soon,” he grinned, walking over to his loving girlfriend. “Delay our marathon…”

“I didn’t walk all the way here just for sex, you know,” (Y/N) hummed, the couch shifting at Peter’s added weight. “An added bonus, for sure, but I came here to pig out and watch silly little movies set in space with my pretty boyfriend.”

“Pretty boyfriend?” 

“The prettiest,” she giggled, slipping a kiss to the tip of his nose. It’s not her fault he has such a kissable face—lips, cheeks, nose, wherever. “Big doe eyes, loads of freckles, smoochy cheeks—”

“Which ones?”

A pillow—one she had bought him months ago—met his face with a quick thump. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossibly smoochable,” Peter giggled, feeling lighter than air. “You said so yourself.”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice all thick and lovey, “I know.”

Peter looked at her like she held the world in her hands, sitting beside him on his old couch—one that they had both moved up the stairs together two years ago—he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Everything was right in the world, everything was right in his heart. 

“Are you gonna press play?”

He shook his head a bit, dumping his lovesick thoughts out of his ears. “Oh! Yeah, right. The movie.”

She pulled a blanket up on them, snuggling closer to Peter as the opening fanfare begun to play. With the text scrolling on the screen, one he hardly needed to read to know what it said given his near-memorization of the film, he felt at peace.

—

Mindlessly scrolling on his phone, it was usually how he spent his mornings, to wake himself up. He knew about the studies with blue light and stimulation of that sort of activity and wakefulness—having heard it enough from the party beside him, but he didn’t seem to care.

Apartment listings. 

She was right, his studio was too small for the both of them, and it was only fitting if they were going to start a life together—living with one another—that they had ample space. Besides, they were graduating within the year anyhow, so location wasn’t terribly important. In the city would be nice, given his… other occupation, but he could get used to living outside of Manhattan again. It was quieter, usually, and only by a small percent. Cheaper, too. Thank God for his scholarships, he wouldn’t have made it very far without them. 

She stirred next to him, pulling his comforter mostly off of him. He didn’t need it right now, anyway. Not when she was sleeping so soundly. He craved these weekends, when they both had a break from school and work—most of the time anyway. Peter Parker knew in his heart of hearts that he needed this every day. Perhaps forever. 

Forever.

That seemed so out of reach five years ago, but now? Peter simply couldn’t see a life without her in it. With their hectic schedules, his being all-encompassing, marriage was out of the question, at least for a few years. That’s why the apartment was so important to him, a piece of forever within their grasp. 

“Maybe…” Peter sighed, clicking his phone off, afraid to breathe louder than necessary. 

She didn’t seem to wake, anyhow. 

—

“Why do weekends here go by so fast?”

“At the laundromat?”

(Y/N) gave him a knowing glance. “Yes, Pete, weekends fly by here at the laundromat.”

“Come on,” Peter laughed, stacking his jeans—fresh out of the dryer. “It’s not so bad. They have those magazines you like.”

“Magazines from years ago—”

“There was that one from the eighties you found two months ago,” Peter pointed. “Stuck under one of the dryers?”

She smiled at the memory. “True. That was kinda fun. Seeing all the dated hairstyles and outfits was a treat. But you knew what I meant, use that big brain of yours.”

“It probably has something to do with the fact we like spending time with one another,” Peter began, patting the top of his laundry pile. “Y’know, makes the time go by faster.”

“Maybe,” she sighed. “I mean, logically, that’s probably the answer.”

“Logically? As opposed to illogically?”

“I could shove a sock down your throat right now, Parker,” she said seriously, holding up a balled up blue sock of his. “No one here would stop me. So cut it out with the smart ass-ness.”

Peter snorted a laugh. “Such a scary girlfriend I have, threatening me with socks.”

“Maybe instead of kryptonite like Superman, your weakness is socks? I need to capitalize on that venture before anyone else does,” she said, throwing the sock into the laundry basket. “Once I crack that code, I can sell it to all the big baddies of New York.”

“And maybe with all of the money you make, we could invest in a place for us,” Peter said.

“A house on the water,” she said dreamily. “Four bedrooms, an office—maybe one for both of us? Oh! An open kitchen sounds nice too, one with stone counters and fancy wood cabinets—real wood, not particle board. One of those farmhouse sinks?”

“If you share Spider-Man’s one weakness to all the big baddies of New York, don’t you think you’d have a hard time sharing a life with him after?” Peter asked, the sounds of the machines drowning out their conversation well enough. They practically had the whole place to themselves anyway, it seemed safe enough to talk about. “You know, considering that the spider is likely dead?”

“Hm…” she tapped her chin. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“We could start with an apartment, first,” Peter chuckled, throwing bits of his laundry basket into the washer. “I was looking at listings—”

“I thought you wanted me to move into your place?”

“We need a place of our own,” Peter said. “You were right, my studio isn’t going to cut it, and I want to spend more time together. Our weekends are the best time of the week, and any night I spend with you is a night where I actually get some semblance of sleep—for the most part, anyway.”

The entire laundromat lit up, Peter was certain her smile was the culprit. 

“You were looking at listings?” She asked shyly, digging through the basket to help Peter load the washer. 

“Most of it was out of our budget,” he admitted, “but it was a start.”

She hummed in agreement. “We’ll look together tonight, then.”

“Sounds perfect,” Peter grinned. “Oh! Could you double check my pockets? I keep forgetting change and stuff in them.”

“What about old receipts?” (Y/N) giggled, obliging to his request. She pulled a pair of khakis out of the basket, gingerly fishing her hand in the pockets. “I think I’m entitled to any change I find, Parker.”

“You can have whatever you find,” Peter agreed, his voice a little shaky. 

Turning the back pockets inside out, she found nothing in the first pair, throwing it unceremoniously into the washer. With a bit more haste, she rifled through the second pair—the pair she had bought him a while back. Her fingers came across something round and cool. Change, it had to be. 

“I think I just became twenty five cents richer,” she laughed, pulling the item out of the pocket, expecting a quarter. Instead, it was a smooth ring, delicate and without any stones, but still elegant. “What…?”

“It’s not a house on the water,” Peter started, looking down at the ring in her hands. “It’s also not a new apartment, but it’s a start, right?”

“Peter Parker, if you’re proposing to me in a laundromat—”

“It’s also not a proposal,” he corrected, “I’m gonna get you a better ring for that, I promise. Besides, it’s not very romantic here, is it?”

She looked up at him, his eyes staring into her own. Big and beautiful, that’s what she always thought of his eyes. Like they held the answer to every question in the universe, and in a way, they did. “It’s a promise ring?”

He shrugged, his ears growing a bit pink. “When you say it like that it sounds a little… middle school, but in a way, yeah, it is a promise ring.”

“Girls my age are expecting engagement rings,” she said, looking back down at the ring in her hand. It was her size, she didn’t even need to try it on to know it. How did he figure out her ring size? 

“I promise baby,” Peter stepped towards her, grabbing her hand, closing her fingers around the ring. “I’m gonna get you that ring. I just thought it’d be nice to have something to wear on your finger in the meantime—before we do real adult things like move in together. A-and this way, you can help me pick out your real engagement ring! I have a really good idea of what you like, but I don’t ever want you to look down at your hand and thing ‘man, I wish Peter chose this instead of this’, you know?”

“Honey,” (Y/N) said, looking back up at him. “You’re rambling.”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I’m nervous.”

She chuckled. “How do you expect yourself to actually propose if you can hardly give me a promise ring?”

“Hadn’t thought that far,” Peter shook his head. “But it’s for you, I’m willing to do anything for you.”

He meant that. 

She knew he meant that.

“Am I supposed to put it on myself?”

Peter quickly scrambled to open her hand to grab the ring from her, nearly dropping the thing. “You want to wear it?”

“My boyfriend got me a pre-engagement ring,” she nearly rolled her eyes. “You expect me not to wear it?”

He pushed the ring onto her left hand, fourth finger. Peter gently lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it lovingly. “I promise, you’ll get a better ring from me one day. S-soon! Like, as soon as I have the money, I swear to it, honestly.”

“Pete,” she placed her now-ring-clad hand on his face. 

“Right,” his shoulders deflated, “rambling. Sorry.”

She kissed his cheek. “It’s all very sweet and very you, Peter Parker. I love it.”

A dryer alarm buzzed, startling the both of them. “You do?”

“Well, I love you, and that’s enough,” (Y/N) smiled. “Besides, I like the idea of wearing a ring you got me—and the idea of helping you pick out the real thing? That basically sold the idea for me.”

“You’d say yes if I asked?”

“I agreed to your pre-engagement engagement ring, did I not? You’re not losing me that easily, Peter. I’m gonna hold out for the real thing.”

“We’ll go ring shopping as soon as we find a place,” Peter said seriously. “Move in, graduate, all that.”

“You’ve thought this through.”

“A lot,” Peter agreed. “Sometimes it helps to fill the time when I’m swinging around town. I usually am thinking about you, anyway, anytime of day.”

“That’s so crazy,” she said, voice teetering on sarcastic. “Because I’m usually thinking about you, too.”

“Pretty crazy,” he smiled, pulling her into him. With careful hands, he lifted her face towards his, a silent invitation. One she was more than happy to respond to. 

Kissing Peter Parker was one of life’s greatest pleasures, she was sure of it. Granted, she had really never kissed anyone else, high school sweethearts and all of that, but she knew it really couldn’t get better than this. The slightly chapped kisses, the way he would lick his lips when they parted, how he would nip at her bottom lip in protest if she thought about stopping the kiss too soon—it was all perfect. Of course, kissing in a slightly shady laundromat was a bit of a turn off. 

“Pete,” she said, pulling back.

“Can I not kiss my girlfriend?” He nearly begged, holding her against him a bit tighter. 

“I can’t be your girlfriend,” she said seriously. “I mean, not with this flashy new ring and all—seems a bit juvenile with that title, no?”

“What do you suggest?”

“Partners,” she shrugged, feeling him pepper kisses against her cheek, her nose. “It seems more grown up, anyway. Now, when I go into class or work and they comment on my ring I can say, ‘oh, my partner got me that’.”

“Babe, I’m your partner in anything,” he laughed, pressing his forehead against her own. “If you’d like to change our terms of endearment—I’m all aboard.”

“It’d only be for a short while, anyway,” (Y/N) said, smirking against his lips, capturing them in another kiss. “Then I can call you my fiancé…”

“Romantic.”

“Then my husband,” she teased. 

“Oh I do like the sound of that,” Peter nodded. “(Y/N) Parker has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“What about Peter (Y/L/N)?” (Y/N) asked, quirking her brow. “You could be progressive.”

“We could hyphenate?”

“Nah,” she shook her head. “Parker is a fine last name. A little basic, but perfectly suitable.”

“We’re kinda basic people, are we not?” Peter chuckled.

“Let me just go and ask your friend Spider-Man that,” she said seriously. “I’m sure he’d disagree?”

“Oh, speaking of!” Peter stepped away from her. “I need to wash… well, y’know—”

“It’s already soaking in the sink back at your place,” she said simply. “Trying to get all the dried blood off of it and all.”

Peter’s eyes nearly melted in affection. “What would I ever do without you?”

She smiled back in kind, a lovesick sort of way. “Not your laundry, that’s for sure. Come on, Parker, we’ve gotta finish this load. Sooner we’re done, the sooner we can go home.”

A rogue ray of sunlight hit her new ring just right, making the band shine brightly against her hand as she continued to throw his dirty clothing into the washing machine. “Yeah, let’s finish this up,” he said softly. “Let’s go home.”

[marypaol]

Hogwarts Express [H.P]

Harry James Potter x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader is right by Harry’s side providing comfort when the Dementor pays a visit. (Based on book)

Warnings: Dementor of course, mention of never being happy again, mention of murder and death, fainting, twitching? I think that’s it let me know if there’s any others!

Author’s Note: This is my first ever Harry story, he’s my favorite character in the series and I’m so glad I’m writing for him! Also, I know the poll results said 6th Year, but 3rd was a very close second and it’s fresh in my mind because I’m currently reading the book. Sorry!

Reader is nicknamed “Flower” sometimes so no use of Y/N

Masterlist

•

Requests closed until further notice

•

“I need to talk to you guys. Alone.” Harry muttered to his three friends, engine of the Hogwarts Express rumbling beneath them.

Ron looked eager to know, and turning to his red-headed sister, ordered “Go away Ginny.” as a way to politely ask her to leave. The sister replied with an eye roll and walked away.

“Let’s find an empty compartment.” Hermione suggested, stroking the hair ball of a cat in her arms as they soon made their way down the corridor. They didn’t seem to be having any luck with finding any one that wasn’t full except for one at the end of the train.

A man was sleeping by the window, soft snores escaping him. He was wearing torn up robes, grey streaks in his hair despite him looking youngish.

“Who do you think he is?” Ron asked.

“Professor R. J. Lupin.” The girl replied, reading his suitcase that was pealing, showing its age.

“How’d you know that?” Ron asked, searching her face with confusion written all over his. She pointed to the case, all three of them taking a look as they sat down.

“Wonder what he teaches.” Ron said, already looking down the corridor for any sign of the women walking around with snacks.

Hermonie rolled her eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“Well he looks like he’s in rough shape; one hex would take him out for sure.” Ron said, adjusting Scabbers in his robe pocket when his tail peeked out. “Anyway, what is it you wanted to tell us?” He said, turning to Harry.

The rest of them did the same, all paying attention to what the boy had to say.

Harry then explained what he overhead Mr. And Mrs. Weasley talking about, as well as what Mr. Weasley made him promise.

The girl’s eyebrows shot up, hand covering her mouth, mimicking Hermione’s reaction. Ron’s mouth was open.

“He escaped to come after you?” Hermiome said in disbelief from beside Ron. The girl seated next to Harry was still trying to register the information.

“Harry you have to be really careful.” The girl said, just about the same time as Hermione added, “Now don’t chase after trouble, Harry.”

Harry seemed slightly annoyed. “I don’t find trouble, Hermione. Trouble usually finds me.”

Ron scoffed at the two girls worries. “Plus, why would he go off and chase someone who wants to kill him?”

“True, but we have to be cautious.” Hermione advised.

“Who knows how he escaped.” Ron said, looking uncomfortable all of the sudden. “No one’s done it before, and he was under high security too.”

“But they will catch him, won’t they?” The girl said, trying to look at Ron and Hermione in assurance. “I mean, they’ve got Muggles looking for him-”

“What’s that noise?” Ron said, head swerving around as he tried to find the purpose. All of them did the same, the whistling noise getting irritating.

“Coming from your trunk, Harry.” Ron said, red head now dug in the luggage rack, hands snapping open the trunk as he brought out the reason for the noise.

“Oh! Is that a Sneakoscope?” The girl said, leaning forward so she could get a better look a the item.

“A very cheap one, mind you; went crazy when I attached it to my owl’s leg.” He said, shaking his head.

“Put it away,” Harry advises, eyes nervously glancing at the sleeping Professor. “It’ll wake him.”

Ron stuffed it in an old sock he found in Harry’s trunk which stopped the noise and snapped the trunk shut once he put it back.

“We got it in Hogsmeade.” Ron explained as he sat down. “The shop was full of all sorts of things. Fred and George told me about-”

“What’s it like there?” Hermione interrupted. “I heard it’s a place in Britain that doesn’t have any Muggles-”

“Sure it is,” Ron said hurriedly, being the one interrupting this time. “But that’s not why I want to go. I wanna go to Honeydukes!”

“What’s that?” The girl asked in wonder, curiosity shining in her eyes.

“It’s a shop that sells just sweets.” Ron gladly answered, sinking into his chair with a dreamlike expression on his face. “Like Pepper Imps that make you smoke at the mouth, or large sherbet balls that make you float a few inches off the ground when you suck on them.” Ron ended his sentence with a demonstration of the size of the sherbets, his hands making a giant circle to mimic their size.

“Oh I’m sure they’re much bigger than that.” The girl informed, holding up her own hands and trying to figure out how to make a bigger circle than Ron’s, just to get him riled up.

“No, mom told me they were like this.” He said, doing the same thing with his hands again.

“Yeah right! And I’m Volde-”

The sarcastic remark was interrupted when Hermione looked over at Harry curiously.

“Wouldn’t Hogsmeade be a fun place to walk around, Harry?” She asked.

Harry rolled his eyes, his arms were crossed and a small annoyed pout was on his lips. The girl couldn’t help but admire him despite his irritation, his green eyes twitching with annoyance.

“I’d like to know. Reckon you’d tell me all about it when you get back?”

The girl snapped out of it. “Why, can’t you come?”

Harry shook his head, untidy hair waving in the process. “No, Uncle Vernon didn’t sign my slip, and Fudge didn’t either.”

The girl slumped in her chair a little, bumped out being an understatement.

Ron looked mortified. “You can’t come? McGonagall or someone will grant you permission-”

Harry laughed disbelievingly, knowing all too well that the Professor mentioned was known to be quite strict.

“Or Fred and George will do something about it, one quick ask and they’ll sneak you right in.”

“Ron, no! Harry can’t be running around risking trouble when Black is wandering about!”

“But he’ll be with us, no one’s gonna-”

“Oh don’t speak rubbish, Ron. Black won’t hold back on attacking Harry just because we’re with him, he’s committed a murder in front of dozens of people.” The girl jumped in.

They’ve settled in a nice little stage of normal discussion while they enjoyed their snacks one the women came (apparently Ron avoided death because he claimed he was dying of starvation) and they ate contently until a certain Slytherin decided to show up to the door with his minions that too far behind him.

“Malfoy.” Harry scolded.

“Pottah.” Draco replied right back, scanning him with irritation in his eyes before turning to Ron. The girl nibbled on her lip on habit, knowing how short Ron’s temper was when Malfoy mentioned his family in any way.

“Heard your father finally got some hands on some gold, Weasley. What’d your mother do? Die of shock?”

Ron stood up abruptly, knocking over Hermione’s cat’s basket in the process.

The sleeping Professor snorted at the disturbance. Malfoy’s eyes snapped to the figure deep in slumber.

“Who’s that?” He asked, taking a cautious step back while pointing a skinny finger at the young man.

“New Professor.” Harry answered, standing up as well in case he needed to prevent Ron from lashing at the Slytherin. The girl, not knowing Harry’s purpose of standing up, misunderstood and thought he was gonna try to fight too, and her hands subconsciously went to the boy’s robes, holding tight just in case.

“You were saying, Malfoy?” Harry said, eyebrow raising in question. Malfoy scoffed, knowing he shouldn’t start something in front of a teacher, and whispered to his minions the plan to depart, and so they did.

The two boys sat down, the girl’s hands staying on Harry’s robes but not as tight; she felt safe knowing he was right there but thankfully the robes are big and Harry didn’t notice her grip.

“I’ve had enough of him making comments.” Ron snarled, face dark. “I’ve had it this year; one more comment on my family and I’ll get a hold his head and-”

Ron did something with his hands in the air, the motion not nice enough to explain.

The girl stiffed a laugh with Harry at the action. Hermione on the other hand wasn’t amused.

“Careful Ron. A Professor is right there!” She reminded, but the future Hogwarts teacher was still fast asleep.

Outside it started to rain, the droplets running down the window satisfyingly. The girl watched as the rain poured down and the sky became grey.

“It’s rough out there, I must tell you.” Ron complained, taking Scabbers at of his pocket but stuffed him right back in once Crookshanks gave a soft hiss.

The train gave a rattle, shaking slightly but hard enough to shake the girl into Harry, her cheek coming in contact with his shoulder.

She leaned back as soon as the force of the train was over, cheeks flushed.

“Sorry.” She mumbled embarrassed.

Harry gave a reassuring smile. “Quite alright.” He said, pushing his glasses up his nose since they fell down a little.

She turned back towards the window to hide her face, watching the rain hammer to the ground. (She would lean forward to get a closer look but the Professor was right there, still deep in sleep despite the practical storm occurring outside.)

All seemed well until the train started to slow, the rain becoming more visible as the thick drops landed to the ground.

“Great, we’re here. I’m starving and dying for the feast.” Ron said, getting up and stretching before looking outside.

“What? We can’t be there quite yet.” Hermione said confused, glancing at her watch.

“Then what’s happened?”

“Well don’t look at me, I don’t know.”

“Flower, let’s look outside.” Harry said, pointing to the door. She nodded, getting up on wobbly legs from sitting down for far too long and walking towards the door.

Both their heads peaked out the open door, many students copying them out of confusion.

The lights suddenly went out, leaving the whole train in darkness.

“Woah! What’s happened?” Ron’s voice said behind them, Harry and the girl still standing by the door.

“Don’t know…” Hermione mumbled.

Harry held onto the girl as they felt their way to their seats. “Do you think we broke down?”

“Don’t know.” Hermione repeated.

The previously open door burst open suddenly, someone making quite a loud entrance before they tripped on something and fell forward right on top of Harry.

“Hello, Neville.”

“Harry? That you?” The boy asked confused as the girl heard him getting up.

“Who’s there?” Ron asked the new voice, only for another one to arrive.

“Ginny? What are you doing here?”

“Looking for Ron-”

“Nevermind come sit.”

“Quiet!!” A third new voice broke out, the Professor finally waking. He lit a fire (in his hands?) and started to walk out the compartment to see what the trouble was.

But someone something arrived before Lupin could leave.

A creature of some sort stood covered in a black cloak from floor to ceiling. Whatever was hidden under the cloak sucked in a sharp breath, and that’s when it happened.

A cold chill came through the air, chilling them to the bone. The girl felt hallow, like every speck of life was sucked out and she felt a flick of sadness; like she’d never be happy again. The cold went beneath her skin and traveled to her chest. She shivered uncontrollably.

A hand appeared from under the cloak, shriveled and pale, only for it to go back under.

The girl reached for Harry subconsciously, seeking for comfort only to feel his body board stiff. She turned to him, eyes wide, watching as his once sparkling eyes behind his glasses roll back in an unpleasant way.

His body twitched as he fell to the floor and off his seat, back on the ground.

“Harry!” The girl yelled, worry brewing in her chest. She knelt down beside him, hand lightly slapping his pale cheek nervously as she brought his head to her lap. So many things were happening around her but she didn’t take the time to notice, for his didn’t care. All she really did notice was that the lights flickered back on again. But all she cared about at the moment was Harry and if he was okay.

His eyes fluttered open, looking at her then looking at all the people around him.

“W-what?” He croaked, neck leaning up and the girl helped him sit up, his back leaning against the seat he was previously sitting in.

“Are you okay, Harry?” She asked, anxiety bending her brows. Harry didn’t answer, swallowing thickly.

“What happened? What’s that- that thing?” He said, eyes scanning the room for an answer. “Someone was screaming, who was-”

“No one was screaming, Harry.” Ron said, his face startled but confused.

There was a moment of silence before they heard a snapping sound, and, swerving their heads in the direction of the noise, saw Lupin breaking chocolate into pieces.

“Eat it, it will help, I assure you.” He spoke, looking at them. “Dementors, am I right?” He said, but no one laughed. He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I’m going to talk to the driver.”

Lupin left, and the girl guided the chocolate to Harry’s lips once she helped him sit down.

“Eat Harry, he said it will make you feel better.” She said gently.

Harry took a nibble, and he visibly relaxed as warmth traveled from the tips of his hair to his toes.

Harry looked around then, rubbing his eyes. “I still don’t understand, what happened?”

The girl was half listening to what the person said as they explained what occurred, her hand going to Harry’s as she gripped his fingers. He looked over at her, lips turning into a soft grateful smile. She smiled back but halfway since she was still worried, and she reached up and fixed Harry’s glasses on his face since they were crooked. He gave her another smile, one better than the last.

@idkkkkk1111 @iambored24601 @amayaaaxx@brok3nlegs @capsicle115 @buttersuaa @ghostyluvsyou @thisismyacc11 @cvmtitss @bitchycheesecakecat @earlymorninglow @mariit @iambored24601

[espinosaurusrexex]

Forever, of course.

SteveRogers x Female!Reader

summary: Steve has a crush on you but your flirty character isn’t making things easy for him. Now he even has to marry you to please a 6-year-old superfan of his. Whether that’s a good plan or not, isn’t quite clear for Steve yet.

a/n: I think this will be the last AI-adaptive story but it was a lot of fun! Shoutout to @RandomTingsForFun on beta.character.ai for having created the character that helped me write this story (and the Bucky one).

Word count: 4k

warnings: a Stevie in love, an attempted funny reader, and a super excited 6-year-old (she carries the story tbh), this is really just super fluffy

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ

Steve shook his head at the sight of your chat history. It wasn’t too long ago when he didn’t even know how to listen to music on the device he was holding in his hands, let alone write a text message in less than 30 seconds. Now, he was bickering with you, and he had to admit it was even a little fun to wait for a response from you. Of course, Steve didn’t do anything else in the time he waited for your reply. He just stared at the screen in his hand and willed his heartbeat to slow a little. 

*ping* Why would that be important? So? Maybe I have been talking to Sam about you. Have you been talking about me with Bucky?

Steve: No I haven’t! And it is important because if he’s badmouthing me, then you’d believe him. What has he told you anyway?

You: Just the usual. Save the world this, Captain America that. I stopped listening when he started obsessing over your shield again.

You: Wait. Did you seriously think Sam would say something bad about you? That guy is obsessed with you.

Steve just laughed at your antics. Sam loved the shield for some reason, but every time Steve would give it to him to ‘throw it one time’ Bucky would intervene and ‘show him how it’s done’. 

*ping* Anyway what I actually wanted to ask is if you’d come to my niece’s house with me this weekend. She’s a huge Avenger fan and I might have promised her to meet one as her birthday present 😬

Steve: Of course, I will! I would feel bad if you made such a promise and I wasn't able to make it. And I bet she'll know who her favorite Avenger is after a visit from The Cap 😉

You: ugh please don’t call yourself that. ever. 

You: I’ll pick you up Saturday at 1:30? 

Steve: Yeah, sounds good! I'll make sure to clear my schedule. How old is your niece by the way? And what’s her name?

You: You can call her Izzy. And she’s turning 6 this Thursday. Be nice. And make sure to talk me up a bit, will ya? I mean, I’m already her favorite aunt but just making sure...

Steve: How could she not love you? But I’ll do it anyway. I’ll talk you up so much you’ll never be able to escape my praise! What’s her favorite food?

You: weirdly enough it's carrots, that child is strange. Says vegetables make her a superhero or something. 

Steve: I mean she’s not wrong. Carrots are great for your eyes! What does she think of Iron Man? I need to know my chances against the competition.

You: I just asked her and she said she doesn’t care about Tony because you are her one true love. 

You: I told her that’s not possible because you are already mine. Now we’re in a big fight so thanks for that.

Steve: why would you say that?

You: I like to see her freak. Don’t worry about it, captain. It was just a joke 

You: ...or was it 👀

Steve: I don’t believe you. You’re lying.

He got a little nervous. But it was a good nervous.

You: why? Do you want me to? 

You: Am I making you nervooouuus?

Steve could practically see you wiggle your eyebrows with a grin. A silly idea flashed past his mind, and he felt like grabbing it.

Steve: You need to stop before I accidentally propose to you.

Nothing - just a second, though. Then:

*ping* you have a ring?

Steve: I can get one in less than an hour. Meet me at the chapel on main and I’m all yours. 

You: I’m stunned. I’ve taught you well. 

Steve: 😊 I’ll see you Saturday, doll. 

Steve sat back on his sofa. That girl is really something. A smile broke loose on his face at the silly thought of marrying you. Honestly, he wouldn’t mind if it happened. Out of all the people he knew, you were the only one he’d want to spend the rest of his life with. You were fun and you made him loosen up. He was a whole new man around you and he loved it. Because being in your presence was easy, and comforting. There was nothing to worry about.

He sighed before putting his phone down and staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t wait to see you again.

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve stepped out of the door and smiled upon spotting your car. You were already waving at him, a beautiful smile adorning your face and Steve felt his heart skip. Car rides with you were nice. You always had some soft music playing. Always making sure it was nothing too funky so he felt comfortable. Still, he was a little nervous. It wasn’t every day that he go to meet someone who looked up to him - well, actually, it was every day - but this one was different. Because it was your family and Steve needed to make a good expression. 

It wasn’t long before you pulled up to your sister's house. But before you could even reach the front door, a little girl jumped out of the door and ran toward you with wild screeches. 

“Auntieeee!!!! OH MY GOD, you really did it! You invited Captain America!” The girl jumped up and down beside you and Steve couldn’t help his smile from spreading. Izzy was adorable - very loud - but adorable. Concentrating on it made his nervousness subside a little.

Then she turned around and stared up at him with wide eyes. He could have sworn there were little stars sparkling in them when he crouched down to her height and extended his hand.

“Hey there, little lady. It’s so nice to meet you, I’m Steve.”

“I know that!” The 6-year-old giggled as Steve shook her hand. But when he was about to let go, her tiny fingers grabbed onto his wrist and dragged him up the driveway. “I want to show you something! It’s soooo cool!” 

Steve was still a little cautious as she dragged him to her room. His only experience with kids came from Sam’s nephews and prior he had only gotten to hold a couple baby’s for pictures. He didn’t know how to navigate the situation, but he decided he would just rock with it.

Your niece pushed the white door with her name brightly colored on a sign hanging on her eye level open and revealed a tornado aftermath of action figures. He was able to spot most of the avengers laying scattered around a dinosaur toy but the overwhelming red, white, and blue covering her room was undeniable. There was a poster of Steve hanging by the desk and a bunch of her own drawings framing the magazine shot. Izzy appeared next to Steve again, holding a small action figure of himself in her hands. 

“My aunt gave me this one. It’s my first one.” She reached up to Steve and barely passed his hip with her little arms. The figure was well loved - he could see it from here. And when he bent down to retrieve it, your niece pulled him down further and whispered a giggly ‘you’re our favorite avenger’ into his ear.

His heart swelled at the excitement presented in front of him. It was adorable, and he could see a little of you in the little girl nervously treading beside him. 

“I’m your favorite, huh?” He said, his voice full of affection. Steve usually wasn’t the kind of person to get mushy over an adorable child, but the way her face lit up was too cute. The little Cap figure in her hands was pretty cute, too. “My, my. I must be pretty special then.” His thumb stroked over the blue helmet in her hands.

Lost in thought and seriously flattered by being the hero that inspired this impressive collection, he almost didn’t notice how Izzy threw her hands in the air. “So special! My mom says I will marry someone as special as you one day, but my aunt says there is no one like you. That is so mean!” Her little chubby cheeks puffed with a pout and Steve had to hold back his laugh. The 6-year-old had no idea what you implied with that comment, but he still felt more pride from being called special by you and your niece than from any medal of honor he had ever gotten.

“Well, a girl your age shouldn’t worry about things like that. But who knows, maybe I will be part of your family one day.”

“Really?!” Wide eyes stared back at him and Steve could practically feel the floor vibrating when he nodded with a laugh. Izzy held out her finger and then she exclaimed a rushed ‘stay here’ before zooming past him and out the door.

Steve stayed a little longer and admired Izzy’s room before he heard an excited ‘Captain America said I can marry him!’ Which made him instantly rush to the source.

He spotted her clinging to her mother’s leg, giddy and jumpy. But your sister just shared a laugh with you over the kitchen counter. “I don’t think he meant it like that, buttercup.” Steve watched your sister explain before his eyes got stuck on the little frown on your face. Was that a hint of jealousy, he was detecting? “But if he marries your aunt, he will be your uncle and just as much part of the family.” A little fire hushed past your older sister’s face. It was a look of mischief he had seen you hold all too well. Steve’s cheeks heated when you caught him leaning in the doorway, scratching his neck at the slightly awkward situation. 

“That works?”

“That’s how it works, baby.”

Izzy turned with excitement and within a second she was before Steve again. “You have to ask my aunt to marry you! Right now!!” She ordered with a stomp of her foot. “Then you can be my uncle and we can hang out every day!”

Steve’s eyes wandered from the six-year-old to you and his heart picked up its pace at the laugh you shared with your sister. There was no harm in a little play pretend, right?

So, he knelt down in front of you and when your name traveled past his lips softly, he almost imagined a grasp coming from you. “Will you,” his head tilted with a wink, “marry me?”

You hid your laugh behind your hands as they covered your mouth in feigned astonishment. But Steve caught the little glimmer in your eyes at his little show. He continued to take your hand as he threw together a little speech for Izzy to hear, and when the child began excitedly jumping up and down beside him, your face softened. 

“Oh, Steve! This is so unexpected!” You clutched your chest and your sister chuckled beside you. Steve felt a tinge of nervousness wash over him then, but he would be okay with a fake rejection - he wasn’t sure if Izzy would, though. “Of course, I’ll marry you! Come here you big, hunky, handsome superhero!”

And as if he hadn’t been prepared for you to agree so quickly, Steve felt his cheeks heat up. He couldn’t deny that the words you described him with had his stomach tingle with excitement, and before he could help himself, he leaned forward and kissed our cheek.

“That was the easiest marriage proposal ever,” he mumbled beside you to which you just slightly pulled from his embrace. 

“What? You’ve done that before? Are you already cheating on me, Rogers?” You raised your brows suspiciously, but Steve was only able to shake his head with a smile before Izzy blared into his ear again. 

“A wedding! A wedding!” She swirled by him like a tornado, immediately collecting things around the house. “Mom, get all the stuffies, ready! We have to do a wedding!!!” And then she was off to prepare the quickest wedding in history. 

Steve shook his head as his arm remained around your waist. “What did I get myself into?” He mumbled to himself before turning to you. “Do I dare ask what a six-year-old’s idea of an official marriage ceremony looks like?”

“I think Paddington Bear will be your best man and if I’m lucky, my sister gets to be my maid of honor, but who knows.” You shrugged with a laugh that warmed Steve’s heart all over again. 

❁ ❁ ❁

Not even ten minutes later, Steve found himself kneeling beside a makeshift altar with a bunch of toys and stuffed animals as wedding guests. Action figure Cap had made best man and was neatly propped up behind him. Your sister had officially been crowned the ‘disco machine’ along with a lengthy speech on how important the right song was for the bride’s entrance. Steve had fought hard to keep his face steady, but when Izzy had suggested ‘Party Rock Anthem’, he’d lost it. When really, he was just proud, he knew the song because you had shown it to him the other week - it was Izzy’s favorite. 

You had been instructed to wait behind the couch until the music started to play, and Steve felt himself get a little nervous. It was silly, but somehow his desire to have this wedding according to your niece’s wishes was a lot more important to him than he had initially thought. 

“Now what do we do?” He asked as he leaned over to Izzy, but that was when the girl gave her mother the ‘sign’ - which was the chicken dance, of course - and his eyes immediately swerved to you. He could see the amusement in your gaze as you bit back a laugh.

Izzy wasn’t wasting any time, as soon as you had reached the altar, she put your’s and Steve’s hands together and immediately began talking. Steve had had barely any time to wipe the sweat from his clammy fingers before they connected with yours, but you didn’t seem to care. He smiled as he watched you listen to your niece’s little speech.

“We are gathered here today, to make Captain America my uncle,” she started, and both you and he struggled to keep it together. It was cute though, and something about becoming this little girl’s uncle excited Steve like nothing had in a long time. “Mr, Captain America, will you take my aunt as your wife?”

Izzy’s eyes were serious as she waited for Steve’s answer. And when he didn’t do so fast enough, she leaned over and whispered the answer to him.

“I will,” Steve chuckled and gave your hands a small squeeze.

Then Izzy’s eyes wandered to you. “Do I even have to ask?” She said with her adorably high voice and everyone started laughing. 

“Yes, I will take Steve as my husband,” you answered with the same squeeze of your hand as Izzy imitated the audience cheering.

“You are now husband and wife. Now, kiss, kiss, kiss!!!” It was a little awkward, but Steve leaned in, anyway, to press a gentle kiss to your cheek. He looked at you again and the spark in your eyes was a little brighter as that smile lit up your face again. You looked beautiful, Steve thought, and his heart jumped in his chest at the realization.

“Wohooooooo!” Your sister cheered loudly and ripped Steve out of his trance.

“This is so awesome! You have to come to every family dinner and we can be best friends forever!!” Izzy must have eaten a bag of gummy worms with the way she was vibrating to the song coming out of the little pink CD player. Steve was sure he’d never seen such a hyper six-year-old before. 

“Every family dinner?” He asked her as Izzy swayed his hands to the music. When his eyes caught yours, you just shrugged. "Forever?"

"Of course!" Izzy exclaimed as Steve spun her around. His eyes stayed locked on you, however. Forever didn't sound so bad...

“Looks like you’re stuck with me.” You laughed, but Steve didn’t mind that in the slightest.

❁ ❁ ❁

The evening had come sooner than anyone had anticipated. Steve had been so occupied with Izzy all day, he had forgotten all about the time. It didn’t bother him too much, though. He had fun, but exhausting as well. And now that he was finally sitting in your car again, his head leaning against the headrest and enjoying the silence for a moment, he felt how much energy it had really cost him. He would do it again, though - especially if it meant marrying you over and over for eternity. 

His eyes opened when you sighed beside him. You hadn’t so much as bothered to start the car just yet, and Steve was kind of happy about that. 

You smiled at him when his head turned to you, still leaning back with a dreamy smile himself. “Who would have thought that we would get married today?” You chuckled with a shake of your head. “And you didn’t even give me a ring. I should reconsider my standards.”

“A ring, you say? Well, you are married to the greatest superhero in the world - according to your niece - so I think we’re going to need something pretty special...” Steve joked as he turned in his seat to look through the car, and when he spotted the right thing, the smile returned got his face. “Should I do the honors?”

And then he took the lid off his water bottle and popped the plastic ring off to place it on your finger. 

“It’s perfect, blue like your eyes,” you laughed watching the big plastic ring hang from your finger. “I’m gonna have to get that resized, though. You must think I’m fat.” You shook your head. “Wow, not even a day in, and I already have things to tell my therapist about.” But the mischievous glimmer in your eyes told Steve that you were only joking. 

“Do I really need to say it, doll?” He took your hand in his before spinning the plastic piece. “You’re the most beautiful woman in the world,” He whispered, secretly meaning every word.

You laughed it off but Steve didn’t miss the stutter in your smile at his words. It made the butterflies in his stomach go wild. 

“So what should our first act as a fake married couple be? Celebratory drinks at the Stark Tower rooftop bar?”

"Stark Tower... that sounds good to me.”

The engine roared to life and soon, the faint music was playing in your car again, the streetlights passed him by and the full moon shone above the New York City skyline. But Steve didn't care, he had more beautiful things to look at. 

❁ ❁ ❁

“You’re what now? Married?! And I wasn’t invited?!” Sam’s shocked face yelled across the bar, making few agents turn their heads with intrigue. 

You chuckled before leaning your head against Steve’s shoulder. The second Martini seemed to already work its wonders on you, but Steve loved how close you were. 

“Married by a six-year-old. Count that as you will, but I have a ring on my finger and I’m not telling you how much it cost.” You stretched your hand over the counter to show off the blue piece of plastic and Natasha just laughed at the cute story.

“So, how is the newlywed life?” She leaned on her hands to play along while Sam still tried to get over his non-invitation to a fake wedding. “You guys talking about kids yet?”

That startled Steve a little but he tried his best to keep a straight face - he failed. The thought of having a family with you did things to him he couldn’t explain if he wanted to. The warmth in his stomach spread to his heart and his arm almost instinctively came up to press you further into his side. 

“Who knows, I wouldn’t mind a couple mini me’s.” He shrugged with a low smile. He loved this little game more and more. It just got harder and harder to remind himself that it was just that - a game.

“Hold your horses, now. You’re not the one squeezing them out of your body, Mr. Rogers.” You patted his chest and sighed theatrically. “I can already see that I will be home alone with a bunch of kids and you’re working late every night. Our life will fall apart!” Your hand brushed over your forehead as your head fell back like that of a damsel in distress. 

The group laughed at the little performance, but Steve was a little quieter now. Somehow, he couldn’t rid himself of the feeling that he needed to tell you how much he really cared. He’d never let your life fall apart - not when he was able to prevent it. And while he sat there with his friends, laughing about something as ridiculous as Captain America settling down, he contemplated in silence, if all this life had really been worth it when he would end up alone in the end - giving up the dream of an easy life he’s had for a century. 

❁ ❁ ❁

It was about 12am when Steve and you stopped before your door in the hallway. His eyes were glued to you, his mind racing with scenarios this could go. He had decided to tell you about his feelings about two hours ago, and ever since, he had tried to come up with the best thing to say. But even though talking to you was the easiest thing he’d ever done, and even though you were already married - fake married - he didn’t have a single idea. Not one word that seemed fitting enough to describe the exciting fireworks in his chest whenever he saw you, to somehow tell you how bad living without you would be. 

He must have been staring for a while because you began to shift from one foot to the other before finally clearing your throat to kill the silence. 

“So... uh... that was an eventful day...” You started, fists nervously opening and closing beside your body. “Thank you for playing pretend. You made a little girl very happy.” You smiled and Steve’s heart skipped another beat. 

He caught the small shimmer in your eyes just in time to give him confidence. Your body kept moving forward as if you willed it back again and again, and Steve gathered all his bravery to open his mouth.

“You know what,” Your name tumbled over his lips like a song he’d sung a thousand times. But the effect it had on you still excited him every time anew. “Today... it’s not going to be pretend.”

And before you could even react to his weirdly vague statement, Steve leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. Full of love and affection, his hands moved on their own - one to your hip and the other onto the wall behind you. There was a moment of panic settling in Steve’s brain, but then your arms came up to sling around his torso and he leaned further into your touch. You pulled him even closer, your lips melting with his, tongues gently stroking soft skin until air got scarce. His whole body felt electric with you so close to him - finally. And when he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, eyes still closed and thoughts swimming in the moment you had just granted him. 

“I... I love you.” He whispered against your skin, and he felt his warm breath bouncing back. Your chest was still rising and falling beneath him, a subtle reminder of how breathtaking all this was - Steve couldn’t get enough of it, of you.

Your hand came up to stroke over his cheek, making him open his eyes to find you already looking at him. 

“I love you, too, Steve.” You bit your lips, and it made Steve just press his mouth to yours once more.

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a/n: I have to say I was pretty impressed at how much it adapted to my writing and I really liked the last part, so I put it in here. I hope you enjoyed it :)

[ryanmarshallryan]

I've been having a lot more people reach out about the vore stories I write, so thought I'd throw it out there if anyone wants to donate to help me have more time to write stories, or likes my style and wants to commission something let me know over dm!

I usually write thinking from a prey perspective, but was feeling hungry after eating salads for a month and switched to pred for this story.

DIET BACKFIRED

I love my weight. I think my belly looks great on me. When I see those old statues of historical figures with dad bods I see myself and love it. But after gaining 25 pounds in a few months from stress, I decided to try out a diet for a bit, just to be cautious of my health. Man, it was hard. And this morning my hunger took control.

I was preparing a salad, heated up some chicken to mix in, sprinkled in some shredded cheese, spinach, lettuce, cucumber, tomato and such. All I could think about was how wonderful it would feel to have a full belly again. Not just feeling satisfied, but pigging out and shoving as much down my maw as possible. Feeling the gainer bug while also trying to diet was not going to work for me. I tore through my cabinet to find an old box of cookies. I opened the box, came to my senses and closed it, then decided I didn’t care and ate the remainder in one sitting. To try to slow myself down and tire out my palette, I tried to eat a bunch of lettuce, but then added a bunch of croutons and snacks without thinking. I still felt hungry, but just left the kitchen to stop myself.

Later, I hung out with my work-out buddy, Max, and vented about my hunger, “I’m still eating a lot! Just replacing chips with a lot of low fat snacks. So if the quantity of food I’m eating is the same, why am I always feeling sooooo hungry? Ugh.”

“Bro, sounds like you need a cheat day. But, hey, if you’re stressed about having too much high fat food, I can help you eat big while still holding back on the chips.”

“Well it can be helpful to sit with the feeling for a while. So if you start feeling hungry, write down exactly what you are craving and what that feels like. By the time you are done writing it out, if you’re still hungry for it… go for it. If the feeling passes, then move on,” Max continued.

“I’m sure we could try it, but I don’t see how much of a difference it’ll make.” I replied. I knew Max worked as some sort of private personal trainer or something on the side, so I felt inclined to believe him, but my stomach was doubtful.

After our workout, we visited a smoothie place and got large chocolate banana protein smoothies (after writing out what I was craving and waiting a moment before deciding to go through with it). I sucked mine down so fast I got a mild brain freeze.

“So how are you feeling? Hungry for another one?” Max asked, playfully placing a hand on my gut and giving it a quick rub.

“Ugh, I would totally go for a burger and fries right now… no, onion rings… actually both,” I replied, as Max handed me a notepad and pen. I wrote down the menu in my mind and thought about how it can be nice to feel so full without another care in the world.

“It’s been a few minutes… still hungry?” Max said with a sly smile.

“What do you think?” I asked him, lifting my gym shirt up to reveal my hairy belly, which gave a perfectly timed gurgle.

Max drove to my favorite burger joint and ordered a few meals and insisted on paying “This is my idea, don’t worry about it… for science!”

After downing two large burgers, a full bag of onion rings and a couple sides of fries, plus an apple that came with Max’s meal that he was too full to finish, I sat with my gut extended out in front of me.

Max leaned over to me, pulled my shirt up over my belly and patted it with his closed fist as if knocking at a door, “So how are you doing, hungry guy?” He put his ear to my side and listened intently to the stomach gurgles, occasionally making sounds of “Mmm,” “Yes, I see,” “Interesting.” I couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the absurdity of Max speaking to my belly.

“What’s so funny about listening to your gut? Intuitive eating is no joke,” Max said with a joking smile, “What is your stomach telling you?”

I thought for a moment, grabbed the notepad and wrote down ‘Though I should be full and done eating… Ice cream would hit the spot right now… Surely that would fill me up, and fill the void the low fat snacks have opened.’ I handed Max the written note.

Max looked from my belly to my eyes with a poker face, “I know just the place.”

In a few minutes we rolled up to Max’s apartment. Inside he pulled out some pints of cookies and cream ice cream and some mint chocolate chip. He handed me a spoon and opened the containers and sat across from me.

“Do you want me to get a bowl?” I asked.

“Nah. Try to intuitively eat. Just eat until your body feels done.”

“So… eat until there’s a nationwide ice cream shortage?”

Max threw his head back laughing, “If we get to that point, maybe we’ll pivot to a new tactic, but for now, feel free to eat as much as you want.” He looked endearingly into my eyes, and I felt my gut rumble, whether by digestion or hunger, or both, I couldn’t discern.

As I scooped down ice cream, we chatted about hunger, about scarcity mindset when it comes to food, and he told me some interesting facts about digestion and how to make room in one's stomach faster than normal by laying on the left side.

“Is this the stuff people need to know for your personal training work and such?” I asked.

“Personal training stuff?” Max gave a look of puzzlement then laughed, “I think I said that sarcastically a while back. A few guys pay me to help them gain weight and eat big. So sort of a personal trainer, but kind of the opposite effect that most would expect.”

“Ohhh, this tactic makes a bit more sense now,” I replied, continuing to eat the ice cream.

“Well, I thought if I encouraged you to experience the ability to eat as much as you want without restriction, you’ll realize that you don’t have to eat everything. It sounds like you are always hungry, because you are always denying that you want food.”

“Hmm, I suppose that’s true,” I went to scoop up more ice cream then realized I’d eaten all of it.

“How are you feeling?” Max asked, rubbing the top of my belly.

I felt a grumble deep in my stomach.”I can definitely feel my belly full of food, but I also could definitely do the whole thing all over again.”

Max considered me for a moment, then started listing off some random digestion facts again. He put his head on my stomach again, lifted my shirt off my body, listened again, took his hands and gently opened my mouth wide and peered down my throat, until I started laughing and he couldn't hold my mouth open.

“What are you doing? You think my stomach is gonna speak back to you in English?” I joked.

“No… but I wonder if I could better understand your hunger if I could better see inside your gut. Hmmm, maybe even just peering down your esophagus…”

“Don’t you need a fancy scope for that or something?”

“Not if you’re willing to relax your throat for a moment…” Max said. I shrugged, and he straddled my lap and shoved his head into my mouth. I could feel his energetic breathing against my tongue and wondered how on earth he could see anything down my throat with his head blocking light from the outside.

I heard a muffled “I’d like to see a bit further…” and felt him push his whole body forward into me. His shoulders shoved their way into my maw and stretched my jaw wide like an opera singer. I choked a little bit feeling his scratchy hair make contact with my uvula and the bottom of my tongue. I reflexively closed my lips over his skin and swallowed as the hair and breath tickled my maw. I realized that my peristalsis must have taken a bit of control, because I was surprised to see that I was looking down at his lower back with his arms pinned to his sides. I felt his nipples and pectoral muscles sliding against my tongue and felt his head squeezed tightly through my lower esophagus. What was going on? Though the sensation was filling me with dopamine and adrenaline, I realized that somehow my body was getting ready to eat a whole human, so I mentally prepared myself to try and regurgitate him. But instead I felt him force himself deeper into my throat, as his feet pushed off against the floor, and his upper torso wriggled and squirmed to slide deeper into me. I felt a sloshing in my gut, and heard a muffled intake of air and the continuation of more digestion facts being spewed out of Max’s ever curious mind obsessed with digestion.

Since Max seemed so intent on getting inside my stomach, and I knew I would need to breathe soon, I decided to help him out. I lifted his legs up over my head and felt gravity pulling him down my throat. I pulled his gym shorts and such off him and felt the interesting texture of his little belly over his abs, mixed with gym sweat and belly hair, felt past his hard on and groin, and his thick thighs as they all passed over my tongue and against my soft palate. My stomach finally began to feel full, as it sloshed with its soupy contents of dinner encasing Max’s squirming upper body. I knew Max’s hands had been freed from the tight grip of my esophagus as my inner stomach felt a peculiar tickling sensation with Max rubbing it from the inside. I felt him poke around and heard his muffled casual observations about my stomach.

I felt Max’s muscles seize up as he put his legs together tightly and let them slide easily down my throat. I felt his cold feet tickle my tongue, uvula and esophagus until they finally plopped into my stomach and I felt my throat open enough for me to exhale and breathe in more oxygen finally.

I took a few moments to gather my thoughts and catch my breath, feeling Max move around and curl up into a ball inside my tight stomach. I looked down to see the bulge his head made toward the top of my belly, with other odd bumps sticking out that I assumed were his knees and feet pressing up against my stomach walls. I felt his clammy hands push up against my stomach as he surveyed his new situation.

“Max, I forgot to write this craving down first.” I said, jokingly.

“Don’t worry I already did!” I heard him shout back, hearing it almost come up through my own throat. I stared in confusion at the opened notepad next to me and flipped to the last written note that read ‘Ice cream and everything else isn’t satisfying enough. Maybe eating me will do the trick. - Max’

My belly gurgled in surprise, “You planned for me to eat you?”

“I did shove myself down your throat, didn’t I?”

“But why would you -”

“Hey you didn’t try and stop me, bud,” he replied. I felt a pat against my belly, and shivered a little bit.

“Yeah, but I thought you just wanted to glance inside, but you wriggled in deeper!”

“Are you mad that I did?” Max asked. I felt him shifting his weight inside my gut and resting into me.

I considered the events of the night. I had really craved a day to just eat all I wanted, and Max gave all that to me and more. Even though I definitely didn’t expect him to force his way onto the menu, my belly felt much more satiated than it had been. “... I’m not mad at you… just want to make sure you know what you’re getting into… but I do have a confession.”

“What is it?” Max asked, shifting around and pressing his head up against the place where my hand was resting on my belly.

“I could go for some orange sherbert right now… I think your diet tactic failed.” My stomach added a large grumble and groan in agreement.

“Failed for you, maybe. But I’m cozy!” Max tried to stretch out a bit and I watched my stomach bulges shift in a funny manner, and felt my belly tighten and knead Max in response. “Plus, I think I figured out why you’ve been so hungry lately.”

“And what have you discovered?”

“That you should have eaten me ages ago! Once I’m digested into belly fat you’ll have more energy stored in your cells for longer, so you won’t be as hungry all the time! It’s simple science,” Max replied matter of factly.

“I’m not sure that science is sound, but as long as you’re happy, I’m fat and happy.”

“If you don’t think the science is sound, maybe you ought to repeat the experiment. Have a cheat day every once in a while,” Max replied, as he curled into a tight ball again and let my stomach relax and get to work over him. “I know I’ve been seeing that cute guy at the gym drooling over your gut, you know, the one who always wears that green hat? I’m sure he’d love to be a part of your next cheat day once you’ve had enough of your salads and diet again.”

I enjoyed the peace of feeling Max getting comfortable deep in my gut. I took deep breaths and felt my diaphragm move Max around slightly as my chest expanded and contracted. “Maybe I’ll ask him. But I’ll leave it up to him whether he wants to take it as far as you did tonight.” I rubbed my belly and stared, mesmerized at the lumpy spots on my belly indicating Max’s body relaxing against my stomach walls. I felt his heartbeat in polyrhythm against mine, with his breathing patterns tickling my stomach walls. I tasted the lasting flavors of his skin on my tongue, mixed with ice cream and other sustenance I had downed throughout the evening. Good thing we worked out first, to balance out this sharp intake in calories. So I suppose even if I had a cheat day from my diet, eating a whole human balances out to be healthy, right?

[ofallthingsnasty]

capture kill

Pairing: M!Werewolf x F!Reader x M!Werewolf Tags:  teratophilia, yandere, dead dove: do not eat, noncon, abduction, (attempted) forced impregnation, creampies, chubby reader Word count: 3.8k Summary:  Two men are secretly fighting over you.

Unfortunately, you’re about to find out.

Note: This started out as some dialogue that popped into my head and it was a lot of fun to write out the dynamic between these two OCs! Please read the tags properly and enjoy. Requests are open!

You smell before you feel.

The air is ripe with motor oil and wood, just like your family's little shack during summer evenings. An almost musky note lies underneath, mixed with something metallic, rusty - old equipment, maybe? It’s quiet, the only thing you can hear is your own breathing, deep and constant. There is the occasional creak from the boards, expanding and moving against each other in the heat. The wall you're propped up against is hard but warm from the sun - it’s not a comfortable position and the moment you realize it, a familiar ache settles itself in your lower back, clearly a sign that you’ve spent a long time sitting like this.

Did you fall asleep hiding behind one of the shelves with a book in hand, enjoying a lazy summer evening? 

It wouldn’t be the first time: The shack is the only place where you can truly be all by yourself - without any disruptions from your family, without anyone asking for you, without any chatter and the constant clatter of dishes or the static of the tv. You’ve always liked to hole up right here, seated on a cushion and with some snacks in hand. You’ve spent many quaint evenings like this, forgetting the world around you.

There is only one problem: You don't live anywhere near your parents' house anymore. 

And you’re pretty sure that you were just enjoying your favorite iced drink at the cozy little café around the corner. The thought shocks you from the very last bits of sleep.

It’s dim around you. You can barely make out the rest of your body while an unnatural drowsiness still clings to your eyes - it seems to sit right on top of your lids, weighing down on them like a ton of bricks. You feel so incredibly groggy, as though you’d die if you didn’t fall back asleep this second. A small part of you fights against the feeling - it’s too easy, you think, to just simply give up. Something is off, something terrible churns your stomach around nothing but air.

Rolling up your head, you blink at the ceiling. 

Green eyes peer back at you, big and apologetic. They're lined by silvery-white fur, between them a muzzle. Too high above you to be a dog, too broad. The thing is bipedal - more bear in body than canine, with disgustingly big paws that look like they could rip you limb from limb. It eyes you with something akin to curiosity, intelligence clear as day in its gaze.

You blink again, brain trying to catch up with your eyes.

And then it speaks. Awful, garbled words. “I’m so sorry, darling.”

You can’t help but scream.

Or at least you try to, because your mouth won’t open. Your lips are held together by something hard and sticky - duct tape, your mind numbly supplies as if it’s of dire importance.

The thing looks stunned - panicked, even, as far as you can tell from its eyes widening at your muffled protests and your head wildly swinging around.

“Yeah, yeah you’re sorry”, another voice cuts in, only making you thrash around harder. “We get it, you’re trying to save the romantic atmosphere or some shit.”

It comes from the corner of the shack, where a shadowy mass stands, postured leisurely against the wall. It is dark - but there is no doubt that it looks just like the wolf-man in front of you. You feel like you’re hallucinating. As if being abducted wasn’t something out of your worst nightmares already - these animals are so bizarre, your poor brain doesn’t know what to do with all of this information.

“Well, how do you expect me to go about it?”, the one in front of you hisses back, eyes not leaving you for a second.

“It definitely helped the whole fighting thing, dumbass”, the other thing snickers and the wolf-man growls at the mocking tone. “I told you we should have just done the deed when she was out cold.”

The sentence confirms all of your worst fears. You whimper against your makeshift gag, trying to suppress tears. The thing gives you what you think is supposed to be a sympathetic look but it only looks ghoulish on its canine face.

“That’s barbaric”, it says, voice thick with disgust. “Yeah, and this right here is the height of chivalry and romance”, the dark one chortles. “As always, you’re a fucking hoot.”

“Shut up.”

“Well- I’m sure, the missus would like an explanation. So quit yapping and do your little monologue, will you?” “Fuck you.”

It gives the other an irrated look and then takes a step forward. You flinch away from it, only to meet the wall behind you. An attempt at raising your hands in defense is foiled thick rope binding them together - you can only cower behind your forearms, fingers swiping, gripping wildly through the air with what you hope is enough to keep it at bay. The wolf-man looks almost sad at your motion but doesn’t back off - those giant paws wrap themselves around your shoulder with surprising gentleness as it crouches down, completely disregard your attempts at scratching it. The thing holds your gaze with big, sad eyes and takes a stuttering breath. It seems to want to say something but isn’t able to - and the fingers on your shoulder tighten themselves into the fabric of your shirt.

Then it says your name- and chokes up. “I can’t-”, it grits out. “I can’t say it-” “You’ve been preparing your shitty talk all the way up here, grow some fucking balls.”

It whines in response, the sound high and miserable. “She’s going to hate me for this.”

“Oh my god, shut up, Evan!”, the dark one snarls again. “She’s gonna hate you either way, believe me.” Evan. The name rings a faint bell even in your panic-ridden brain. Evan. The baker from your favorite little shop a few minutes down - who has the same green eyes to match this thing. A couple years younger than you and so very sweet like the pastries he bakes - you can hardly believe he is this monster. But clear as day, in front of your own two eyes, the wolf responds to his name and has his eyes - even his blond hair sort of matches its coat, if you squint. You thrash in Evan’s grasp, thoughts rushing through your head. You feel like you’re dreaming and dying at the same time - that thing can’t possibly be a human - and this situation can’t be real, either. It’s all too much, too fast. You’re starting to feel faint.

“I-”

“Fine. I’ll do it myself, cuck.” The other steps forward and you get a better look at him, even through the black and green spots that are sprinkled all over your vision - his dark fur is peppered with silvery streaks, his muzzle turning white from age. One of his canines is chipped and makes him look roughed up, makes him look scarier than he already is.

"You see, sweetheart - me and Evan over here are quite… interested in you. Tried to settle this issue for weeks. But then our alpha stepped in and came up with", he waves his paw around as if to show you something, "this."

"And now we're gonna fuck you and see which one knocks you up first, hm?"

You lose it. Whimpering against the duct tape, you throw your legs around, desperate to fight them off. Some animalistic part of your brain supplies you with the thought that just trying to scream no, no, no against your gag might make them spare you, might make them go away. But Evan doesn’t let up, he keeps his hands on you, heavy and warm.

"You scared her, fucking asshole!", he snarls, teeth bared and fur raised.

“She wasn't gonna like this either way, boy. Some woo-woo words and a little sap won't make her fall for you immediately.”

You thrash around helplessly, efforts futile against the monster holding you down.

"You had the chance to ask her out every damn day when she took her pretty little face to your shop. And didn’t you follow her home sometimes?”, the other one snickers, clearly delighted in picking on his mate.

It makes you stop dead in your tracks and you look at Evan with wide eyes, scared. 

The darker one laughs. “Would you look at that. Did I tattle?”

By now Evan’s claws are buried in your shoulder. It hurts, even through the cotton of your t-shirt. Not even your whimpered protest seems to reach him. He looks positively murderous. “See, loverboy over here isn’t as innocent as he’d like you to think. Nasty little creeper, that one.”

“Shut up, Bill-”, Evan grits out.

Bill. Such a mundane name for a monster like him. Unlike Evan, it doesn’t ring a bell - but you’re sure he is a local just like the young bakery worker.

“That's enough”, Bill says, voice suddenly full of authority. “You’re only making this worse for her, boy.” The paw on your shoulder trembles. “At least let me go first.” His voice is nothing more than a whimper now, more reminiscent of a sad child than a fully grown man grotesquely stretched into the body of a wolf. He sounds absolutely pathetic like this and you’d pity him in any other situation.

Bill laughs, deep and ugly. It’s an almost dry chuckle that gets gradually louder. The atmosphere shifts to something more dangerous, more serious - gone is the playful teasing, now it sounds like he’s ready to rip Evan’s throat out with his bared fangs.

“I am your elder. I get to go first.”

Evan doesn’t respond. He just stares at your lap with an indecipherable expression.

“You hear me, boy? Hugh said this was the way to settle things. Trying to question your alpha?” The threat in his voice is clear. Evan finally opens his mouth. “No.”

“Good. Very good.”

He finally lets go of your shoulder and steps aside. Bill doesn’t waste any more time - you’re grabbed by your ankled and roughly pulled onto floor, helplessly flailing your bound hands through the air. He’s on you almost immediately, caging your head in with two thick arms. You can only stare up at him with pleading eyes, trying to beg him to stop with your expression alone.

“Sh, princess”, he says, almost gentle. He bows his head down and nudges the crown of your head. “I can play nice with you, you know? I just don’t like that little cuck over there”

His words do little to calm you. 

Whimpering against the tape, you let tears spill freely. You just want to be home, in your bed - just anywhere but not here. “It’s okay”, he murmurs and licks them away with his rough tongue. “You’ll be fine. You’re a little fighter, I know you are.”

A growl sounds from the corner but Bill isn’t fazed. He caresses your face with one clawed finger and crinkles his eyes at you. It’s another attempt at a soothing gesture, another one that doesn’t work.

“Poor thing, hm? Let’s get this over with.”

You can barely cry in protest before he rips your shirt open with sheer force, digs his claws into the cotton like it’s butter. Your skin prickles with fear as he eyes you, soft form and all, like the finest cut of meat he’s ever seen. Gone is that almost-warm expression, that deceptively gentle touch. He’s back to his snickering, old self. “Cute bra, baby. Too bad it has to go.” And with that, Bill slashes the straps and rips the band away. Your torso is completely bare in a matter of seconds, leaving you to shiver on the rough wood, the scraps of your shirt barely shielding your back from the ground.

Evan groans from his place and the sound curdles your stomach. 

“Just ignore him, baby”, Bill says and bares his teeth into a ghoulish smile above you. “He’ll have his turn but I’m gonna knock you up and keep you.” With another rip of elastic and cotton, he frees you from your pants. The floor is cold against your skin and you already can feel the splinters that are about to bury themselves into you - but it’s nothing compared to the terror awaiting you. “A little uncomfortable?”, he hums above you. “Sorry about that, babe. Gonna have to do for now.” He stuffs his whole snout into your bush and groans. The feeling is alien, his muzzle warm and wet and you shudder with it. “You smell divine.”

When he pulls back, his dick is unsheathed, hard already. He palms himself while he stares down at you, dark eyes enraptured by your form. 

“You’re just-”, he grunts. “About the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen-”

He pinches the fat of your belly with a surprising gentleness, the sting tender. 

“Look at you, all soft and round. So perfect for me.”

He leans over and kisses and bites your neck, your shoulder, even your jaw - gently, which only freaks you out more. He really won’t stop, will fuck you in a matter of minutes and you can’t do anything about it. You know you aren’t ready to take him and he is definitely bigger than average in this form. The dread that blooms in your stomach feels like a punch to your gut. 

“Deep breaths, princess”, he rasps above you, able to read every single thought that flits through your head in your terror-filled eyes. “Nothing much you can do now.”

As sick as it is, it rings true somewhere deep in your panic-riddled brain. Bill shuffles around a little bit, without ever breaking eye contact. There is a warmth that touches your leg and you know exactly what it is - his cock rests heavy and hot on your skin. Slightly wet with pre-cum, it twitches between your thighs. You barely dare to peek down, not wanting to see what is about to happen.

“I’m gonna enjoy this.” Bill groans, buries his muzzle in your shoulder and pushes himself into you. He is incredibly thick and it burns. The feeling is unlike anything you’ve experienced before - raw fear for your life leaves you dry and clenched uncomfortably around his dick, making him snarl and hiss above you. You can feel your own tightness around him and fold your bound hands into nothing, fingernails digging themselves into your palms.

If only you had something to grasp, to make this more bearable. The only thing you can do now is grit your teeth and take it.

“Oh shit, princess”, he sighs, completely blissed out and without any regard for your pain. To your surprise, he bottoms out slowly and waits for you to adjust - or at least what he thinks adjusting is. You're still not ready when he finally starts fucking you in earnest, slow and deep. 

"Fuck-", Bill grits out directly into your ear, his voice muffled. "You got the perfect cunt, baby. So fucking- tight."

You pay little mind to his words, too focused on the steady push and pull, on the dry stab of his cock.

“Knew it when I first saw you that you'd be perfect for me. And I'm gonna-”, he moans obscenely loud as your cunt flutters around him. “I’m gonna fuck you full of my pups- just wait-” The thought of being pregnant with this monster’s child almost makes you weep. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”, he groans, his pace picking up. “My cute little wife. That’s what you’ll be, princess.” The sentence earns him another threatening growl from Evan. He only laughs in response, deep and unspeakably ugly. “Yeah, you’ll be perfect-”, his hips crash into yours as he fucks you even faster, the sound vulgar and loud in the otherwise silent shack. “I’m gonna make sure that this little cuck will cry himself to sleep for the rest of his life. Gonna give you a bunch of brats-” It’s clear that he’s just rambling now, too entrenched in his own pleasure. But the thought still makes you still freeze in fear, the very possible future of being with his child terrifying. He’ll give you at least one, to claim you. Ruin you forever.

You clench around him in fear and he loses it - snarling, drooling and almost hollering above you, he fucks you so hard your head gets pushed into the wall again, every thrust bending your neck into an awkward angle.

You know he has to be close now and you’re grateful for it. One, two heartbeats pass as keeps pounding you so hard you know you’ll feel his dick in you for days to come.

“Oh- fuck”, he grits out as he buries himself into fully, the stretch making you bite your cheeks to bear the pain. “I’m gonna knock you up-” And then he’s spilling himself into you, the hot, wet feeling of his cum deep within you. Bill yelps and shouts as he empties himself into you, various curses and praise peppered in between the moans. It takes him a good minute to calm down again, to collect himself.

Still a little out of breath, he smiles down at you with almost sadistic glee as he licks the side of your sweaty face. “Come on, cuck. Time to get your sloppy seconds.” He’s on his legs in a heartbeat, still marveling at the mess he made just seconds ago. “You better do it quickly because my swimmers are already working their way up there”, Bill laughs and all but shoves Evan out of the way as he goes back to his place in the corner. “Have fun, boy.”

The younger man is by your side in an instant.

“It's okay, honey, it's okay”, he whispers, those big green eyes filled with tears. He tries to soothe you and strokes the top of your head but the gesture only freaks you out more. “This is all my fault, and I'm sorry, so sorry.”

The apology would have been a little more sincere if his dick wasn’t already poking your thigh.

“Oh, darling”, he sighs tearfully. “I’m so sorry it had to be like this- I just- ”, he starts but interrupts himself with a hiccup. “I swear, if I had talked to you sooner-” Not even the snicker from Bill’s corner can snap him out of it. “But I’m gonna make it right. You’ll see, I’m gonna make it up to you, darling”, he babbles on, his words only unsettling you more and more. “You’ll have to forgive me, yeah? You have to.”

He’s a goddamn lunatic. 

You can’t help but look back at the older man, almost wanting him to intervene. Before you can make any eye contact, you’re pushed into a hairy chest by a tight hug. “I promise. But first, we’re gonna get through this”, Evan rumbles out above you, making the dread flare up again.

He wastes no time after that. You’re freed from his arms and placed on the ground - gently, but with unsteady hands. He looks as though he’s drooling above you, parting your legs and sniffing your belly with anticipation. His cock seems to be a little smaller than Bill’s, but considerably thicker - it bobs up and down as he licks your stomach, your tits and your neck, his tongue almost shy.

At least Bill’s cum serves as a lubricant, you think, as sick as it is. “My pretty girl”, he hums. “And soon all mine.”

And indeed, the stretch is almost bearable as he enters you. You’re glad he doesn’t reach as deep as Bill does because the speed at which he fucks you is sloppy and fast from the start - he pushes into you with so much need and desperation it knocks the air out of your lungs with every thrust.

“I love you”, he moans. “And we’re gonna- we’re gonna spend our lives together, yeah? I’m gonna take such good care of you-”

He’s talking himself into a frenzy, his words nothing but the lovesick rambles of a freak - they just make you feel more hollow. “Really love you, angel- oh-”

His muzzle opens and he kisses you over the duct tape, tongue pressed against the plastic and spit sliding down to the sides of your face. He doesn't seem to mind, not with the way he moves his jaw against your taped mouth, frantic and uncoordinated. It’s disgusting.

Unable to move away, you can only press your eyes together and let it run down your skin.

“You’ll love me too, I know it. Just know it-”, he pushes your hands onto your chest as a leverage to go even faster. “We were made for each other.” “We’ll forget about this and live happily ever after.” Now he sounds completely delusional.

His twisted little fantasy of domestic life with you only spurs him on, his moans getting more choppy and broken with every slap of his hips against yours. He seems to be a quicker shot than the older man, too hung up on his bizarre dreams and hopes. You thank whatever godly entity out there for it.

“Fuck- darling, I think I’m about to-”, he whines but doesn’t get any further before his orgasm rips through him.

You’re a proper mess now. The second load of cum feels obscene within you, all warm and sticky as it spills out around his dick and onto your quivering thighs. He fucks into you for another few, sloppy thrusts before he stops to catch his breath. Evan looks so calm suddenly - gone are the tears, the shakiness. He gently kisses the top of your head, the gesture tender. 

“You lovebirds okay?”, Bill says, his voice suddenly quiet, higher.

Evan’s head snaps again, a weak growl telling the other to stop his teasing. You use the shift to peek up from underneath  him, curious as to what changed. A naked man stands in that same corner in Bill’s stead, smoking a cigarette without a care in the world. Salt and pepper hair is fluffed up on his head, slightly greasy - your tired eyes have seen him once, you’re sure of it. 

“Like what you’re seeing, babe?”, he grins and whistles out some smoke. 

“Leave her be, Bill. She deserves some peace now.” He barks out a laugh, then takes another drag from his cigarette. “Yeah, yeah. I hear you.” Finally, Evan pulls out, forcing out an obscene amount of cum and fluids out of your abused cunt as he withdraws. It lands on the floor beneath you unceremoniously, the noise sickening. He caresses your stomach before he gets up, already contemplating how you’ll look like swollen with his child. “We’ll have to wait a little but she’ll stink like one of us soon”, Bill snickers at the sight, one chipped tooth just as pronounced as it is in his wolf form. He pats Evan on the shoulder in an almost brotherly fashion, both too worn out to fight anymore. Bill stomps out the cigarette with another sigh and stretches as though he is simply a little tired from a long day. He grins before holding the door open, the world outside already dark.

“Don’t worry, princess. We’ll be back tomorrow morning to make it stick.”

End note: And? Who would you pick? Maybe even both? Do tell me 👀💕

[berzahoes]

you and me | izzy stradlin

summary: no matter what axl told him, izzy could never stop loving you.

an: it’s about time i wrote something for my man izzy <3 not an exact timeline of how things actually went but hey, that’s fanfiction for ya!

warnings: axl rose that should always be a warning

the moment izzy saw you, he swore he was in love. at the time, you were both in high school. he had long hair and beat up shoes that were years old. on the other hand, you were the nicest clothes and shoes while your hair was perfectly cut and brushed. he noticed that you always wore a locket, maybe a family member had given it to you as a present.

you were known as the nicest girl in school. nobody had anything bad to say about you until a certain lead singer saw how in love his friend was with you.

“she’s a prude. why waste your time on her?”

izzy would immediately defend you. “you don’t know her. stop saying shit if you don’t know her.”

it was after your high school graduation that you and izzy began to talk. your family had thrown you a party. as you were helping your mom bring in decorations from her car, izzy just so happened to walk by since your houses were close to each other. you noticed him and waved for him to come over. he couldn’t believe that the most popular girl from high school was about to talk to him.

“hi, jeffrey.” you said in your sweet voice that izzy loved.

“you know my name?” he asked.

“well, yeah. we went to the same elementary school. remember mrs. smith? she wore those big glasses?” you said.

“i remember now and i remember you doing a project about the ocean and you said your favorite animal was a betta fish and some kid made fun of you for liking a fish.” he realized how much information he remembered. was it normal to remember all that? he probably looked like a creep—

“it still is. it’s a pretty fish.”

izzy only nodded.

“do you want to come over later? i’m having a graduation party and i would love for you to come.”

“yeah, thanks. maybe i’ll drop by. i’ve been busy with my band.”

“you’re in a band? that’s cool! what kind of music do you play?”

izzy wished he didn’t even the band, but at the same time, he wanted to share what he loved with you. “it’s just a . . band. you know, rock, we play that.”

“cool, maybe i can come see you guys perform?” you questioned.

“if you don’t mind sitting on a old couch in a garage.” he joked.

“every band starts somewhere, jeff.”

“izzy, i go by izzy.” he was nervous about what you thought about his name. did you like it? did you hate it so much that it made you not want to talk to him ever again?

“well, izzy, i still mean what i said.”

during the party, you introduced izzy to your parents. izzy thought it was a bad idea since most parents took one look at him and instantly thought he looked like trouble. but your parents weren’t that type.

“mom, dad, this is izzy. we went to the same elementary school. he graduated too.” you said as izzy shook hands with your parents.

“nice to meet you, izzy. congratulations on your graduation. any plans for your future?” your mom immediately asked.

“honey, the boy just got out of school. the last thing he wants to do is think about college,” your dad said. “our daughter says she wants to travel for a bit before she goes to college. we told her that as long as she has the money and she’s with someone we trust, she can travel as much as she can.”

then you whisper something into izzy’s ear that had both of your parents wondering. when you finished, izzy chuckled and nodded.

“he let me say this, izzy is actually in a band.” you blurted out.

“a band? that’s great. you know, i was almost in a band once. . .” your dad spoke.

and that was your cue to take izzy someplace else so you ended up in your old treehouse that your dad built. the party was still going on as you and izzy layed on the wooden floor.

“do you want to go to college?” izzy asked.

you sighed. both your parents went to college so they expected you to go as well. but all of you wanted to do was travel. you were born and raised in lafayette, the only time you went out of state was for your cousin’s wedding in georgia that you didn’t remember because you were five years old.

“I don’t know. you know how our teachers always say you have to go to college to get a good job and good money? i don’t think that. i want to go anywhere, everywhere. i don’t need a math degree or read shakespeare,” you explained. “i want to go to los angeles, i want to experience it so bad.”

“then let’s go.” izzy said casually.

“what?” you turned to him.

“let’s go to los angeles, you and me.” he repeated.

“but what about your band?” you asked.

“we were never going to make it out of the garage anyways. maybe los angeles has something for me.”

so after a few weeks, it was decided. you and izzy were going to the city of angels. when you told your parents, they were hesitant, but you reminded them of your dad’s words. they helped you pack and even gave you extra money so you wouldn’t worry.

back at izzy’s house, axl was trying to talk him out of leaving, especially with ‘the prude’ as he nicknamed you. but izzy wasn’t listening to him. he continued packing as axl listed all the reasons why it was a bad idea.

“she’s not going to survive the streets of los angeles, izzy. look at her! she’s going to break and then she’ll come back crying to mommy and daddy.” axl stated.

“she won’t because she’ll have me.” izzy replied.

“then you’re both dead.”

soon, you and izzy were on your way to los angeles. your parents had payed for your plane tickets. when the plane touched down in lax, you smiled at the feeling of being out of indiana.

“you ready?” izzy asked, grabbing your hand.

you nodded. “ready.”

1982

you and izzy now called los angeles your home. it took months of working and saving up money, but you and izzy found a nice small house in a good neighborhood. your parents often called to make sure you were okay. you would sometimes find izzy on the phone with your dad.

when you and izzy arrived to the city of angels, you immediately started looking for a job. a record store owner hired you since the store had just opened and the way only had two employees. it was definitely a dream job for you.

it was a spring break when izzy’s friend, axl, decided to join you and permanently move to los angeles.

“you’re still here?” axl asked you when he saw you walk through the door of your house. he was sitting on the couch, feet up on the coffee table. he definitely took the phrase ‘make yourself at home’ too literally.

“yes, axl, i’m still here. this is my home.” you clarified as you walked towards your and izzy’s shared room. you dropped your purse on the floor then threw yourself on the bed. you were exhausted from work and all you wanted to do was sleep, but of course when axl rose is in your house, sleep is not an option.

“hey, you hungry?” you heard izzy ask from the doorway.

you could smell mac and cheese. “not right now, izzy. my feet hurt, i have a headache and i have the opening shift tomorrow.” you groaned.

“you have to eat something.” izzy encouraged.

“she doesn’t want to eat, let her starve i guess.” axl took the pot of mac and cheese from izzy’s hands so he could eat it.

“what is he still doing here?” you had enough and got up from your bed.

“don’t even start with me, bitch!” you heard axl yell as izzy closed the door to your bedroom.

“i’ll make him leave. he’s only here because we were rehearsing. we got a few gigs coming up. i promise he’ll be gone soon.” izzy assured you.

“he just gets in my nerves.” you sighed.

“i know. but he’ll be gone soon and you and i can continue where we left off this morning.” he started kissing you. then axl happened.

“you guys fucking in there?” he pounded his fists on the door.

“i’m going to fucking kill him.”