#he's one of my closest pals
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maggotwithanf · 2 years ago
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red fucking alert guys someone's flirting with my longtime crush by sending him editions of gay wwi poetry. i can't compete
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good-beanswrites · 10 months ago
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I’m thinking about the angst of the restraints headcanon again. There’s the two with the least physically violent crimes, and they rank relatively low in strength. There’s the child who was violent but had to be really crafty about it; she’s the weakest of all of them. And the most dangerous of the guilty prisoners cannot be restrained.
This makes me so emotional!!! All three are the smallest of their circles. Two of them are extremely ordinary people who have never experienced/expressed physical violence before. One hadn't even fathomed the idea of someone dying until they actually did. And yet, they're subjected to the type of restraints you'd expect to see on someone who is uncontrollably violent. The fact that prisoners who committed very gruesome murders can walk free (including Mikoto) just adds insult to injury. I still couldn't everything into words, but here's a Mahiru-centric drabble featuring the same thoughts. It takes place after T1 closes but before the attacks.
“Where are our rights?”
Fuuta’s shout caused Mahiru to wince. She perched on her bedding, watching the two prisoners she’d invited to her cell. It hadn’t been the fun kind of invitation, though. Back in school, she always wanted to have parties and dates back at her place. Moving to the city, she imagined what it would be like to make university friends and take them back home with her to talk, eat, and have fun. 
Sitting in her dim gray cell with Fuuta and Amane, all of them held fast by complex sets of restraints, was not what she’d had in mind.
Amane knelt in the corner. Her arms were crossed, as if pouting, though the opposite was true. A moment ago her eyes had lowered in prayer, but it was difficult to find any peace of mind now. Fuuta snapped and shouted as he paced the length of the cell bars. They were unlocked, but like the others, he didn’t feel like being out in front of everyone. He’d give his uniform a violent jerk every now and then, but it didn’t do any good. Between his strides and growls, he made Mahiru think of those poor wild animals they keep at the circus.
“Take it easy, Fuuta.” She mustered up a smile. “Come rest with us.”
“I can’t believe you two. You’re just gonna sit here and take it? I didn’t do a fucking thing! They’re acting like I’m some big danger to society,” he yanked his arms again, to no avail. “All I did was type some things onto a screen. I’m not gonna go around stabbing anyone or anything. And you, you didn’t hurt anyone either!”
He nodded his head to Mahiru. If her arms weren’t already folded over her chest, she would have hugged herself anyway. 
“Well
 I did hurt him in the end
 I broke his heart badly enough that
 I mean, he
”
Fuuta made a disgusted sound. “That’s all stupid romance stuff. I’m saying, you never stabbed him. Never strangled him. Never poisoned his food, or –”
“Oh god, no! How horrible
”
“Exactly! From what we’ve heard, it sounds like Haruka killed someone with his bare hands. I think Muu had a knife or something. Shidou had a whole arsenal of grisly doctor tools. Kotoko has openly talked about how she beat that guy to death. Why are they allowed to walk free while we’re tied down like wild animals?”
Mahiru was glad she hadn’t mentioned the circus.
“And Amane! It’s not like she did anything violent, and here she is!”
“That is not true.”
Both paused as Amane spoke up for the first time. 
“Eh?”
“While I disagree with my verdict, the restraints make sense.” The others still stared blankly. As matter-of-fact as always, she continued. “I killed with my own hands. I used the amount of force I was instructed to. Just as the sinner fears the wrath of heaven, I can understand how the godless warden would fear my justice.”
Fuuta’s passion wavered, but Mahiru could feel her heart ache for the girl. “Oh Amane
 I had no idea. To be pushed to the point of violence at your age
”
“I am not to be pitied. As I said, I am dangerous, and proud to be. I am doing god’s work. All heroes must be dangerous.”
Fuuta grunted, but said nothing. Mahiru gave her a gentle smile. “It’s not pity. Even if you were dangerous, it’s horrible to restrain someone like you. You’ve already had to brave so much, as the smallest of the bunch.”
She looked between the two. A sad laugh escaped her. “Now that I think of it, I guess we’re all the smallest here, hm? Aside from maybe Muu, we don’t have much height or strength on the others
”
“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Fuuta cried. “The fuck do they think we’re going to do?” Mahiru was just glad he’d focused on that rather than the fact she’d just called him weak. 
Voices raised in conversation down the hallway. Mikoto’s laugh echoed faintly into the cell.  
It warmed Mahiru to hear. Things had been so hard on him here. Though it had been frightening to hear him shouting at the restraints til his voice was raw – well, it wasn’t him shouting – it had been a relief when he appeared free and relaxed the following day. He seemed sheepish that he wasn’t able to help the others, having no memory of his escape. Mahiru just kept telling him how happy she was for him.
Fuuta didn’t share in the sentiment. “Meanwhile, Mikoto gets to stroll around free, and he beat the shit out of Es! He could snap and kill any one of us here, and they don’t even give a damn. But ooohhh, god forbid the guy who’s never been violent a day in his life is allowed to use his own two hands!”
The harshness of his voice wasn’t doing his argument many favors. Still, his words were beginning to get through to Mahiru. 
She’d worked so hard to be a model citizen. She was supposed to have a perfect life. She could cook, clean, sew, and take care of children. She did herself up every day; she was never a slob or a slut. She was generous to everyone she met. She showered the world around her in love. Wasn’t it unfair that her hands were tied like some common criminal? What was all that effort for – being patient when people upset her, being kind even when she disagreed with someone, all of that – if she was going to end up in the same place as someone who had stabbed another out of sheer malice?
Amane didn’t seem to be whirling with the same doubts. She closed her eyes once more. “It is simply a trial from heaven. We may be small, but all of us have an internal strength that will carry us through the ordeal.”
“I don’t think it’s any sort of religious thing, but you’re right,” Fuuta puffed his chest out. “Trials like this only make people stronger!” 
“Do you think so?” Mahiru wasn’t sure if she was asking either of them or just musing to herself. It was a nice thought. This was all part of destiny, something meant to be that would make her stronger in the end. 
But she wasn’t so sure she believed in destiny anymore. It hadn’t quite worked out the first time. 
“Hell yeah!” Fuuta must have assumed she was in fact asking him. He gave a wide, toothy grin. “It’s not like we can get any weaker, right? The warden better watch out next trial – they’ve got a big storm coming!”
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mlp-natural · 7 months ago
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fuck of desitel ponies for tday
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reveluving · 1 year ago
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Ok, so Soap and shy wife. We all know he's the definition of sunshine/happy puppy and has the energy of an entire class of kindengarden. Imagine when they first meet the couple and he's all loud and jolly, and wife quietly shakes their hand and says "Nice to meet you" and he INSTANTLY quiets, because he's proud of his Darling to meet his friends/family, also because they're all wondering how she puts up with himđŸ€Łâ€
LOSING MY MIND AT "they're all wondering how she puts up with him" BECAUSE THAT IS BASICALLY THEIR DYNAMIC đŸ€§đŸ’—đŸ’—
Includes: tooth-rotting fluff!
COD x shy!wife thots closed! Thank you, everyone, for your time & amazing minds! I sincerely hope I can do this again with y'all soon! 💌
Come & check out my COD m.list!
You just know this man does not shut up about you every time he meets up with his team for work. 
And then, one day, he surprises them with a “she’d love y’all to come over one day.”
“Didn’t you say she’s a lil’ shy?” Kyle voiced out everyone’s thoughts, so to be offered not by the man himself but the meek lady in question was a little surprising, to say the least.
“She is, yeah, but she’s open t’meeting a few pals o’mine.” Johnny meant it to sound casual, but with his mates knowing him for a long time, it wasn’t hard to catch the hint of care in his voice.
And, well, it would be rude to decline a lady’s generous offer, now, would it?
Johnny’s hyped, no doubt, his friends—no, brothers, and his other half finally meeting in person. They didn’t even have to ask, just by the way he was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel or the way he hummed to the radio, likely a playlist the two of you shared.
And with the boys holding some sort of gift for you, just as a thank you for the invite, you greet them by the door as soon as your husband announces his and his friends’ arrival. 
With Simon physically being the closest to you, you wiped your hands on your apron before holding your hand out. Simon nearly struggled with his strength, not expecting your lack of hesitation to greet him, out of all of them.
You introduced yourself, “It’s nice to finally meet you guys.”
Ah, such a sweet voice. So sweet that had Johnny not gone on and on about your shyness, they would’ve thought you were scared of them. But, you weren’t and the proud smile on Johnny’s face says it all. 
Why wouldn’t he? With your warm smile and even willingness to shake Kyle and John’s hands as well. Albeit, you had a habit of looking down every once in a while, especially if they tried to show their respect, i.e. complimenting your cooking, the decor or you in general, it was hard not to find you endearing.
But God knows how you, of all people, manage to put up with his nonsense. 
In the words of Johnny; “Opposites attract, after all.”
And seeing it now, to say Johnny was whipped
. Was putting it lightly.
It’s funny to see Johnny trying his best when it comes to lowering his gruff voice for you, even if you loved it just the way it is.
Though he has a lot of things to tell you, so much love to give you, you have his full attention the moment your lips part.
Each time you open your mouth, he closes his. As if fearing that one word from him would mean talking over you entirely, and he couldn’t bear the thought of that. The hearts in his eyes were tough to miss. He’s expressive, too, hanging on your every word like you were giving him a task when it was just you talking about how you learnt to make the lasagna you served for dinner.
‘SHUT UP, MY BABY HAS SOMETHING TO SAY’ type of beat, but it’s the man who’s saying it that has the loudest voice (and the gentlest heart).
But they’d be lying if they said they didn’t enjoy listening to the stories of how you met and how emo Johnny gets when the dates or outings don’t go his way, even though it all went well in the end.
Why wouldn’t they enjoy seeing his soul leave his body when you mentioned his baby pictures that his mother not only showed you but gave some to you as well?
“Johnny, c’mon, now, she’s a part of the family! She’ll need some photos o’you for when you move in together soon.” Says his mother, gifting you probably a stack of them, as if unfazed by the sight of you and Johnny covering your faces, the temperature of your body heat rising that even you feared you might pass out right then and there. He couldn’t even find the energy to stop his sisters from teasing him.
But besides allowing you to embarrass him a little, even if it wasn’t your intention, your home is another.
A small unit, located on the second floor. The candlelight colour, the cute indoor plants in each room, and the seats. 
Oh, the seats.
John nearly passed out just moments after he sat on it. 
Just by the way you maximized the apartment space, it’s no wonder Johnny always looked forward to returning home. Not necessarily the apartment, but to you. 
Dare they say, the visit felt like a ‘cultural reset’ (is that what the kids are saying these days?). Largely because one; they were able to finally confirm that Mrs MacTavish is a real person and two; one cannot simply ignore the dynamic you and Johnny have. It may be eye-roll-worthy to some, but Johnny learns it isn’t something worth fighting about. So long he has you, those people can yap and nag about it all they want. 
Bonus: John’s definitely the type of person to tell Laswell about it like it was some kind of a mission—like it was almost unbelievable to see you, well, you!
“M’tellin’ ya, Laswell. As soon as his wife had something t’say, he shuts up faster than when I tell him to.” He chuckled before taking a sip of his drink.
“Sounds like a keeper to me.”
˚ · . f i n . · ˚
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lilliputiantestinggravity · 2 years ago
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i feel like i’ve said this already but someone please tell me i’m not the only one who uses specific colored heart emojis for specific groups of people
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ew-selfish-art · 1 year ago
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Dp x Dc AU: Damian and Ellie become friends, and for all his research into her ‘Guardian’ older siblings, he can’t seem to understand why they’re asking after his own homelife. 
Ellie was an annoyance to him from the moment they met, and this unfortunately meant that her and Jon got along like a house on fire. She’d transferred to Gotham Academy in the middle of the year and clearly had no idea what a private school was like politically- She walked right up to him and declared them friends. He’d retorted something about preferring to be enemies, she immediately had a shark like grin and after school they had their first spat- which Jon immediately flew into town for upon hearing Damian’s typically fight related biometrics (which, yes, he always listened for). 
Immediately upon Jon pulling them apart, Ellie asked again if they could be friends and Damian accepted. Jon is bewildered but hey! New Pal! And she can throw down! How Neat! (plus she didn’t ask how Jon appeared so quickly-he wasn’t caught flying because of their fight- success! Identity kept secret!) 
Ellie eventually invites them over to her place since she lives closest to the school, and the apartment is meager if not incredibly well kept. Jazz is the one home at this time, makes them all some apple slices and ensures that they did their homework. Jon declares that Lois would love her. Jazz asks if Damian is safe at home, and she has a weird green color to her eyes for just a second when she asks, but Damian assures her that the Wayne family is merely a rambunctious one with too many children. 
The next time they come by her older brother Danny is the one who is home, and he looks absolutely exhausted as he mixes instant coffee granules into his energy drink. Damian learns that he’s an engineer at WE and working night shifts- apparently Danny was home the last time they visited but was asleep. Danny also kind of looks at Damian funny for a second, and asks if he’s safe at home, Ellie protests that they can’t keep asking him and Damian defends his family once more. 
Damian goes home after one of their visits and at the family dinner table if there is anything about him that reads as ‘abused child’ since he keeps getting this treatment by the Nightengale siblings. Tim doesn’t add anything towards Damian’s predicament but does explain that Danny Nightengale is off limits from the rest of the family- He’s not to be adopted and he’s not to be researched, this dude is his main engineer on a Bat project and Tim’s personal project to crack. 
Jason, who happened to attend because it was Alfred’s Eggplant Parmesan night, voices that his new therapist is also a Nightengale. She’s great (the whole family has noticed) but he’s also contemplating dropping her as a therapist for... reasons. (The whole family understands that he’s in love with her and theres a betting pool around it.) 
Bringing the conversation back to the start, Bruce suggests that Damian invite them over for dinner so that they can see he has a stable homelife. Tim and Jason protest but it gets ignored. Damian asks Ellie at school and she happily accepts with “Great! I can’t wait to haunt your house!” 
The Nightengales arrive, and fit right in. The evening goes off without out any major issues or bumps in the road- although the entire family + Danny are all keen on Jason pursuing Jazz (who keeps refusing to comment despite blushing every other word he says to her). Ellie is adored by the whole family, though Damian does his best to threaten them away. Danny is incredibly loose lipped about the project he’s working on to Tim’s horror but Danny just kind of winks and says “this feels like a room of people that can keep a secret.” (Danny doesn’t know they’re bats, he just assumes this cause they’re all family and so nice.)
Eventually at the end of the night Bruce asks why they keep asking after Damian’s homelife and safety- what makes them so concerned? Danny just spills the beans: 
“I’ve met a lot of undead in my day, but Damian was brought back to life in a way I’m still trying to understand. Like Jason? Easy peasy, got dipped in the green stuff. Damian? So Strange. Plus like the kid is like 15, it took me until 14 to die the first time but I had a portal to another dimension under my house and he lives in a mansion.” 
Chaos. 
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cevansbrat0007 · 9 months ago
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New In Town
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Summary: Introducing Chapter One of my Sweet Renegades Series. Sparks fly when you accidentally find yourself sitting next to Bounty Hunter, Ari Levinson.
Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Mentions of Death and Grief, Mentions of Book Boyfriends, Allusions to Disordered Eating, Cursing, Minors DNI
A/N: Major thanks to @curls-and-eyeliner for helping me plot out this chapter. This story is part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. Thanks for reading!
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It was happening again. You could feel him doing it. You knew without turning your head that the bastard had gone back to staring.
At you.
Gritting your teeth, you make a point of adjusting the skirt of your dress before returning your focus to Reverend Turner at the pulpit. Trying your best to ignore the hum of electricity in your veins, you find yourself wishing that you’d opted to stay home today. After all, you hadn’t been to church in ages. 
So what on earth possessed you to return today?
It’s not like you were concerned for your immortal soul or anything. On the contrary, you and God were good. You were even on speaking terms again – now that you’d finally forgiven him for calling your Uncle Leon home before you were ready to let him go.
That had been nearly three years ago.
These days, your grief has taken a backseat in favor of running the town’s only bookshop, Baubles & Quills. Once owned by your Uncle, the store had become your sanctuary as you’d struggled to cope with the loss of the only family you’d ever had. 
And now that you’d deemed life worth living again you’d apparently decided that attending Calvary Baptist Church’s Sunday morning service was a good idea. But the one thing you hadn’t counted on when you’d politely – and strategically – taken a seat in the pew closest to the door was that you’d end up sharing it with the likes of him.    
That bounty hunter fella that you’d been hearing about for the last week. His arrival had practically sent your little town into a regular feeding frenzy. Word on the street was that he was investigating something that had to do with your old high school pal, Martin Westbrook.
At least that’s what Charline Marshall had said when she’d stopped by your shop to return a book she’d purchased because she didn’t care for the ending. While you weren’t usually one for gossip, you’d been intrigued by her, ah, description of the handsome stranger that had taken up residence just a few blocks south of where you lived.
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Two Days Ago

“His name is Ari Levinson. Kinda strange, right?” She’d whispered conspiratorially, running a hand through her copper colored tresses . “But he’s a tall drink of water with the prettiest blue eyes I‘ve ever seen.”
“Oh really?” You’d mumbled, frowning at the crease that adorned the spine of the paperback book in your hands. Another one for the discount rack.
“Mhm. He’s handsome all over.” Charline had continued, picking up one of your more elaborate looking bookmarks and pretending to study it before using it to fan herself. “And not only that, but
” She’d leaned in then, allowing her freshly manicured nails lightly graze your arm. “I think he likes me.”
“Oh? Has he come out and said that?” Your eyes had gone wide with feigned interest. Because of course the man would be into Charline Anne Marshall. Who wouldn’t be? The woman was beautiful and, what’s more, she knew it.  
“Well, I mean
not yet.” The woman had let out a disappointed little sigh. “But I’m almost certain he will. I’m just giving him time to get settled in, you know?” She’d said, her perfectly painted lips curving into a smile as she held out a hand for her change. 
“How kind of you.” Good Lord how you wished you could hurry things along so you could go back to enjoying your peace and quiet. 
“Ari has already interviewed me twice. He even gave me his number, just in case I happen to remember anything else.” She’d tucked the cash from her return into her purse. “I think I might call him up and tell him that my memory works best after a couple of drinks. Think that’ll work?”
“I guess you’ll never know if you don’t try.” Even though you were annoyed, you’d pasted on a fake smile and closed the register, hoping that might be enough to convince her to end the conversation and move on already.
“Why, I think you just might be right.” Your unwanted guest held up the bookmark that was still in her grasp, her unspoken question left hanging in the air. “And this?”
“It’s on the house, Charline.” You’d patiently replied, bracing your elbows on the counter. “Best of luck landing your bounty hunter beau.”
“Well, aren’t you just a gem?” She’d all but squealed, sounding positively giddy as she took a step back. “You know, I bet if you spent a little more time out in the real world instead of holed-up in here with all these books, you’d probably be able to land a man too. You’d be awful pretty if you’d just put in a little bit of effort into it. I mean –” 
“No thanks.” You’d simply shrugged, unable to summon up enough energy to be outraged by the dig. 
It wasn’t worth the breath you would've wasted trying to explain why you were better off keeping the company of your book boyfriends. A real man required too much care and feeding for your tastes. 
“If you say so, sugar. But–” She’d responded as she strode towards the door. “Oh! You should come to my next party. We’ll let Mary Kay sponsor your makeover.”   
'No offense, Charline, but I’d rather put a campfire out with my face than attend your next Mary Kay get-together featuring you and ten of your mother’s closest friends.' You'd thought to yourself.
“Uh, maybe. We’ll see.” You’d hedged before turning on your heel and heading in the direction of the stockroom. “Enjoy the bookmark!” God, you’d never been so happy to hear someone exit your shop than you were at that moment.
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Which brought you back to the present. You’re startled out of your reverie when the congregation erupts into thunderous applause, signaling the end of Reverend Turner’s sermon.  You knew you were going to have to move quickly if you wanted to avoid any unwanted attention from other members of the flock. 
Or worse yet: be forced into making small talk with Ari Levinson. Assuming that beast of a man actually possessed enough brain cells to actually string together a sentence or two. Which was a shame because he really was easy on the eyes. 
Unfortunately for you, you don’t realize that now you’re the one who’s staring until you notice the corner of his mouth tilt up in a smirk. Shit. The cocky lawman nods his head in your direction before having the audacity to mouth the word: “howdy”. It almost makes you wonder what his voice would sound like. 
Would his southern drawl be thick and rough, or smooth and easygoing? Assuming he was southern, that is.
Feeling your cheeks heat, you make fast work of grabbing your things before scooting out of the pew, doing your best to sneak out of the service before everyone is formally dismissed. The absolute last thing you needed was to have this man thinking you were like every other woman in this town who was willing to practically trip over herself just to get a good look at him. 
On your way out you brush past Sister Mary Jo Winans, who is all too eager to follow you out the door and halfway down the front stairs.
So much for making a clean getaway.
“You’re not staying for the potluck?” She wheezes, gripping the railing as she struggles to catch her breath. 
“Afraid not, Sister Winans.” You tell her while digging through your purse for your keys. “I’ve gotta go home and change so I can head over to the shop.”
“But it’s Sunday, honey.” The matronly woman huffs, adjusting the angle of her wide-brim church hat. “This is the day that the Lord has made. We are to rejoice and be glad in it. It’s all right there in the good Book.”
“Be that as it may, Sister, I’m afraid I can’t stay. Plus I wouldn’t feel right about eating when I didn’t bring a dish to contribute, so
” You offer up a one-armed shrug. “Next time.” 
You also weren’t a fan of eating in front of people. You were always self-conscious about whatever you put on your plate, convinced that you were being judged for your choices. Your stomach growls at the mention of food, reminding you that you’d left some cottage cheese and fruit behind at the shop. That would just have to do until you found the wherewithal to make it to the grocery store.   
“But–”
“Next time. I promise.” You kindly interrupt, hoping that she would just let the issue drop. “By the way, I set aside a copy of Joyce Meyer’s latest book for you.”
“You did?”
“Yep.” You confirm as you begin walking backwards towards the nearby parking lot. “Stop by anytime. We’ll consider it an early birthday present, alright?” Smiling when she nods, you toss her a little wave before speed walking the rest of the way to your car. 
Unlocking it, you climb in the driver’s seat and slam the door before gunning the engine. Finally free, you peel out of the lot and turn onto the empty street. Needing to focus on something other than your thoughts about a certain bounty hunter, you decide to turn up the radio, praying for your traitorous brain to cooperate. 
Yeah, no such luck. 
“Fuck you, Levinson.” You spit, wishing that he was close enough to hear you right then. Because the way you saw it, the sooner he packed his shit and moved on, the better off you and everyone else in this godforsaken town would be. And if he knew what was good for him, he’d stay far away from you.
He’d have more luck getting information out of a drunk Charline than he would trying to get you to spill your guts. And the moment he threatened you, you were planning to call Bell’s Creek PD to let them deal with it. Until then, you had some empty shelves to stock. But first

You were gonna need to find someone to cut you out of these damned spanx.
END 
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dilf-docs · 14 days ago
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Sabor A Chocolate
eddie brock x younger fem!reader
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summary: your boyfriend eddie and his symbiote pal just make sure you know how loved you are.
warnings: sfw (there's always a first), tooth rotting fluff, my attempt at comedy (less funnier than friends), age gap (blog's brand ofc), chubby!reader, she's very insecure but actually deserves the world💔, angst, hurt/comfort, discussions of body image (neg), venom/eddie giving her the love she deserves!!!! kinda took some inspo on elefante's song by the same name of the title, set before venom 2 (not important actually)
word count: 2,580 words
side note: so i watched again venom 3 now that it's available on stream and i'm full of grief for my black little people eater alien💔 anywayyyy this is a based on this request; i hope u enjoy it my lil' frien :) ALSO tysm for leaving ur message!!!!!!!!!
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It was Mrs. Chen's fault, really.
It all started with a late trip to the convinience store, which happened to be owned by one of your mother's closest friends.
Final's week was approaching, and with all the academic pressure, you tend to study until late hours, which means snack time can also end up happening in the middle of the night. Which is the reason why you're scouring through the store at 10pm, your hand occupied with some chocolates and chips to endure the rest of the study session you've got ahead.
The door makes its silly sound, announcing a new customer.
"Hey Eddie!" you hear Mrs. Chen's voice. You hide behind one of the shelves, ashamed of your aspect: one thing is a close elderly friend seeing you like this, another is a total stranger watching your final's week look: consisting of a long over-sized shirt with a washed up Welcome To San Francisco! on the front, some pajama shorts that ride up your thighs, a ponytail-bun hybrid and bare face.
"Hello, Mrs. Chen" the gravely voice returns. Oh, it's a guy: a guy with a very nice tone. You wonder if the face matches the voice, "looking good"
If possible, you get more embarrased than before. You don't usually have that much game, but if you were to get a chance, it definetely won't happen with you looking like this. You desperately want to get out, but leaving the food behind is a huge no. Also, getting out through the door without the man noticing is quite literally imposible.
She snickers, "I always look good!"
You decide to stay put until he leaves, hiding next to the chocolate shelf.
"What are you getting tonight, Eddie?" the elder woman makes a pause, "let me guess..."
You hear foot-steps against the floor, the sound growing stronger and closer. You pray to anyone out there who can hear you to stop what you think's going to happen.
"You already know what it is, Mrs. Chen" a beat, "chocolates!"
He screams first. You then scream, and then Mrs. Chen shuts you two idiots up.
"Stop shouting in my store! You'll scare possible customers"
"I'm sorry" Eddie says, then turns to you again and repeats his apology, "I'm sorry"
"I'm sorry too" you laugh, ashamed. "I didn't mean to scare you"
Now, Eddie takes in your figure better. Yes, your aspect is very poor, but it doesn't erase your beauty. He can understand: thanks to Venom, he's been sweaty and bad-looking before.
"Is everything okay?" you ask, growing a bit self conscious with the staring. It's definitely happened before, and not for good reasons.
"Yes!" he answers hastily, then coughs, rosy cheeks on display. "I'm Eddie, by the way"
"Glad we cleared that up" you chirp, almost breathing with relief on the spot, "I'm y/n!"
"Pretty name" he whistles, "pleased to see the name matches the face"
"Oh" you blush furiously. Is he being for real? This absolutely gorgeous strong older man? It's like a dream come true; maybe it is. No way a man, a good looking one on top of that, notices you, especially now that you're looking the worst possible ever.
"Are you buying or what?" Mrs. Chen pops up from behind you both. "Flirt later, after you buy. Outside"
"Geez, Mrs. Chen. I thought you were my friend" he feigs sadness, a hand over his chest. "You sure know how to kill a guy's game"
You giggle, and Mrs. Chen looks at you, then at Eddie and smiles. Ah, you know that look. God, this is about to turn very embarrassing.
"Not with y/n" she elbows your side, not so discreet. "My girl here is difficult to scare"
You turn red again. "Don't know what that says about me" then you lean closer to Eddie, whispering. He gets a whiff of the strawberry splash you put on yourself (you may look bad, but smell bad? never). "Mrs. Chen's friends with my mom, please don't listen to anything she says"
"Well, thank you, Mrs. Chen" he then looks at you and winks. He mouths an I'll help you, and you find yourself blushing for the 100th time. "Help me check this out, won't you?" he shows some chocolates. She leaves with Eddie, saying something like For your friend, right? but you're too busy thinking about how that could've gone in a more embarrassing way. The downside? She totally noticed the exchange; after the wink and asking your name part, you're positive it isn't one-sided.
"Hey, um. Y/n, right?" you nod too vigorous, like a fool. Just a name exchange and you're already this down bad? You need to stop. "Do you need help with that?" he points out the snacks that, at this point, you've already forgotten about.
"Oh! I can carry it myself" you dismiss.
"No, not that kind of help. I can see you're doing a pretty good job yourself" he gets closer, and your skin gets goosebumps at the closeness, even feeling his breathe on you. He's making you nervous just like that. "I'll pay for it"
Low husky voice whispering to you? Close proximity? And paying for your snacks at the very first meet? Is this some sort of trick or a straight out of a rom-com scenario?
You tend to more skeptical, but this guy is definitely working on you.
"C'mon. Don't leave me hanging in here, doll" he encourages, seeing your lack of motion. You blush (again) at the compliment. "Rough night?"
"Just finals" you answer while giving him your two snacks.
"Are you in college?" you nod. Then, you both walk to the entrance, where Mrs. Chen gives you with a look you try to ignore. She checks out your snacks and his chocolates. You wonder if he likes the same as yours, and why he's got so many of them. "Wow, what are you studying?"
"Journalism!" you answer a bit too excited, but God, don't you love your degree. "The reason I'm studying journalism is because I love to write. Through it, I would love to help others without a voice, you know?
"Wanna know something funny? I'm what you'd call a journalist as well"
"What?!" you shout a bit too loud, perhaps because of ease or perhaps of laugh at the timing of it all.
"Yeah! Are you from San Francisco?" he asks.
"No" you answer, confused as to where it leads. "Moved in for college"
"That explains it" he grabs the items he's just payed for, handing them back to you. "You know, I'm sort of famous around here. Ever heard of Cletus Cassidy?"
"Cactus what-?"
"Oh, Eddie" she laughs, mockingly. "Y/n here is as pretty and young as she looks. Of course she doesn't know who you are!" she snickers.
"Nevermind" he says ashamed. "Jesus, you sound more like a hater than a friend"
"It's all right!" you chime in, nervously. You're afraid you've fucked it up. "I can investigate you- oh, that sounded bad. Investigate your career, um. You know what I mean! It's kind of what I do, after all. Part, at least, of what I do"
"It's alright, doll" you could get used to this. A gravely rich voice calling you such. "No need to be nervous"
He looks thoughtful for a moment, and you start to fear your yapping or in general, the strange appeal or whatever magical reason he was interested in you, has vanished. As soon as he gets out of the store with you, fear creeps in. Is it all over? Was this a brief glimpse of what dating life is like? A chance you'll probably never get again. But then, he says:
"Can I have your number?"
"Sure!" you sound kind of glad about it, "do I put it in your phone?"
Eddie hands it to you, smiling when he sees what you've saved yourself as:
Y/n đŸ‘»đŸ«
"There you go" you say as you exit, and Mrs. Chen keeps looking through the glass. You hastily dismiss her, but you know she'll soon gush to your mother about it. "Thanks for everything"
"No problem" he winks. Oh, the nerve of this guys. "See you around, y/n. Good luck on those finals!"
You have to shut your demons for a while. Meet-cute-at-the-convenience-store guy seems to be truthful about it!
You'll just have to see how long it lasts.
Flash forward: it's lasted! Now Eddie is your boyfriend. Four months dating and you feel in heaven!
Yes, a bit of your demons have come out here and there, but Brock's been there to kiss away every single one of them. Venom too! Ah, yes: the alien symbiote that lives inside of your lover. Even he has taken to your liking! Being honest, meeting him did scare you at first; kind of a mind-blowing confession to make on your 1 month anniversary, but you soon learned surprises are a common thing if you're dating the so-called Lethal Protector. You both share chocolate filled afternoons when he takes over Eddie (he hates sharing yet let's his pal have some fun with you), watching a movie or two with his silly little comments on the background, sharing his alien-like knowledge with you (whatever that means).
So yeah, it's been a few months and you couldn't be happier!
Today, Eddie's supposed to pick you up from college. He has done so the last couple of weeks, and if you've seen people whispering behind your back, you've been smart to ignore it.
But today as you walk to your usual spot where Eddie picks you up, you hear the comments of two of your classmates (you recognize) from a class you take:
"They haven't broken up yet?" the other one laughs.
"She must've used some kind of dark magic, because there is no way that guy is with her"
"Yeah" the first one agrees, "y/n's weird just like that"
They aren't being discreet, and you start to believe they're choosing to do so, because next thing you know, they're talking about your body.
You begin growing self-conscious of your appearance: a sweater and a skirt, something Eddie loves seeing on you (he says it's easier to do stuff) but you can't help and start to feel insecure about the skin of your bare legs. You tense, tighlty grabbing the exposed flesh between your fingers, the tissue doughty under your hands. You hate yourself more often than you love, and it's harder to remember the positive side when you hear your thoughts loud in the mouth of other people.
The sound of a roaring engine cuts through the cloud of negative thoughts.
"Y/n!" you love it when he calls your name, enjoying every second of it. But now you just want to get out of here.
"Hey" you get closer to him, hoping on the bike. It's a big distance between you and the two classmates, but you still hear them say:
"It looks like a strong bike" pause. You feel sick, "I hope it won't break"
Eddie feels your arms cage him a little stronger than usual. "Hey, is everything okay?"
You hide your face against his back. "Please, let's go"
"You aren't going to say goodbye to your friends?" he looks back at the girls waving in your direction.
"Let's go!" you plead, rougher. He then realizes the girl are waving at him and not you, a flirty wink his way proving it.
Oh. He gets it now.
"Don't worry, doll" he caresses your hand. "I got you"
Then he speeds, not before making sure he leaves the girls who were harrasing you inside a cloud of smoke that makes them cough. Eddie looks back to see if you're laughing, but your face remains against his back, and he can feel his shirt start to damp.
Shit.
When you arrive at his apartment, your pace is fast, rushing through the stairs and entering his place first.
"Doll?" he calls out, but you don't answer. All he hears is small sobs, and his heart breaks. He finds you lying on his bed, your face hidden against his pillows. "Look at me, y/n"
"Y-you don't get it" you hiccup.
"I think I do" he purses his thick lips, "those girls were jealous of you"
"Jealous of me? Sure" you let out a dry laugh. "If anything, I'm jealous of them!"
He scoots closer, a hand resting on your back. "And why would you be jealous of two girls like that?"
"Because they're pretty" you confess, voice small. "Their bodies are perfect; doesn't matter if they're ugly on the inside. People mostly care about the outside"
"I see what's hapenning" he forces you to look at him, and your puffy red eyes make his chest pang. He needs you to know how beautiful you are, no matter how much you try to deny it. "You think you're ugly"
"Eddie!" you whisper-shout, alarmed.
"Hey! I never said that was my opinion" he says, tone defensive and arms raising up. "That is yours. A wrong one, by the way"
You scoff. "Yeah? why?"
You know Eddie loves you, but after today, you need to hear it.
"Because I don't like ugly people" you laugh in disbelief, "it's true! I love you because you're beautiful, in and out"
"Bullshit" you challenge, tears welling up again. You may start to see the light, but your demons come back to haunt you in whispered dark thoughts.
"You want me to list all the reasons I love you?"
You sniff. "Are there any? I mean, why are you with me, Eddie?"
No. He absolutely won't let you speak about yourself like that.
He grabs your face gently, wiping some tears. "I love you because you're the smartest, funniest, driven, most caring woman I've met, inside the hottest body of all times!" he squishes your side, and you laugh because of the ticklish sensations. "Haven't I shown you so? How much I worship it in bed? You've got to be kidding me! I wouldn't know what else to do or say to convince you of just how perfect you are!"
"Eddie..." you whimper his name out, lunging forward and enveloping him on a hug. He brushes you hair, softly.
"Listen, y/n. I understand your feelings, but it's unfair how bad you see and treat yourself. You are beautiful, no matter what anyone else says, and that's the point: beauty starts from within. It doesn't matter how many times I tell you so, because if you don't believe in yourself, it's all in vain"
"I'm sorry" you hug him tightly, "I wish I liked me more; to see me how you see me. Thanks for having patience"
"No need to thank me for anything" he assures, kissing your temple. "I don't get tired of telling you how much I like your eyes, a delicious invitation to taste you. Or your peachy skin, rosy and soft in all the perfect places. Or your chocolate heart: warm and sweet. You're bascially a ticket to heaven"
"Thanks" you whisper again, much more calm. "I love you, Eddie"
"Well, I love you too, doll"
"I love you too!" It's Venom, who appears next to Eddie. "You're the prettiest human girl I've ever met!"
"If it makes you feel better, I can eat those sluts" he offers softly, and you pet him while laughing, although Eddie rolls his eyes. The nerve of this guy.
"Seriously? Read the room budy!"
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thealogie · 10 months ago
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picture this. you're michael sheen, beloved queer-friendly welsh actor and recent twilight saga vampire. you want your favorite book to become a tv show, and you want to be the lead. so what do you do? you befriend the author. he wines and dines you, you become a confidant in the scriptwriting phase. and in the process of the GO script you decide you don't want to be crowley, actually, you want to be aziraphale. you put in the work for months to influence the author to the same conclusion. so when neil gaiman comes to you one day saying, "i know you joined on to be crowley... but how would you feel about playing aziraphale?" you say, what a novel idea! i was feeling the same way, i just didn't want to say anything! let's do it.
you're michael sheen, the lead in the adaptation of your favorite book. you meet david tennant as your leading man, a rising star (and vocal fan of yours) you've had a few vague interactions with in the past. on set you immediately find the closest friend you have ever and will ever find in your life, and you know this. the romance you have in your (yes, your) show is ambiguous, but you're michael sheen. you think that romance needs to be explicit. so what do you do? you become a nightmare on set. you get really hands-on; you make costume choices, you make story decisions, you tell your author friend at the very end of filming: aziraphale is in love with crowley and realizes it in 1941. now go do it again.
so the author goes and does it again. you get a season 2. you get 1941 part 2. you're michael sheen, and you are the lead of the adaptation of your favorite book, and the romance you littered into the character you built from the ground up has become unambiguous. everything goes according to plan. but, you see, you have a problem: the author you have baby trapped is acting a FIEND on twitter and tumblr. he's saying everything he can to imply aziraphale and crowley aren't sexually attracted to each other. he's getting a bit too bold with his character assumptions, is all i'm saying. so here's what you're going to do: you play it up with your pal david tennant. you made a show with him during lockdown. you're going to depict your lives as even more intertwined and homoerotically codependent as previously possible. you grow even closer. your wives become best friends, too, because how could they not? this has been the plan since the beginning, too. your lockdown show ends. it wasn't enough.
so you, michael sheen, of course you put in the work. if david tennant's there, you're damn sure you're there physically, spiritually, biblically, in whatever capacity you can be. it's not hard. david tennant is a big fan of yours, after all, so he MAKES SURE you're always in the conversation. you have him wrapped around your little finger, this lovely little boy, and so you know what you do next? you become neighbors. you make your directorial debut casting your best friend's wife watching her husband and male neighbor initiate sex with each other. you play into the swinging rumors (that you, michael sheen, had started). you create a narrative that you and david tennant are two homoerotic besties, and is there more going on in the background there? any deeper conspiracy? who really knows, but what you do know is that the world is talking about it.
and you, michael sheen, your entire acting career has led to this moment, your gay quips, your oscar wilde sex scene (and the interviews following), all of your queer roles, EVERYTHING has brought us to this conclusion. you have created the lab perfect conditions where season 3 must have an explicit gay sex scene. i'm sorry neil, my hands are tied! the people are clamoring for me and david tennant to have sex-- i mean aziraphale and crowley to have sex, the public decided this all on their own! i really don't think you have much choice. but of course, i would never deign to tell an author how to practice his veritable craft. i concede to whatever version of series 3 you create, and i will happy to bring this beloved character to his deserved ending.
and why do you say this? because you're michael sheen. you're just an actor who incidentally stumbled his way into leading the queer romance adaptation of your favorite book that wasn't a romance, and you just read the script the way that it was given to you. and if series 3 means an explicit sex scene between you and your best friend david tennant, then what a lovely coincidence that you had absolutely no part in making happen. because what power do you really have?
This is my favorite book I’ve read so far this year. A rare occasion where the author pulls off use of the second person pov. I really felt like I was a beloved welsh actor crossed with Machiavelli when I read this
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lovebugism · 2 years ago
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Play wrestling with bff Steve and getting giggly when he just straight up manhandles you 😭😭😭
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✶ ┄ SORE LOSER !
summary: steve harrington doesn't like to let you win until he realizes how good it feels to lose. pairing: best friend!steve harrington / f!reader word count: 1.6k warnings: a lil bit suggestive towards the end, but nothing crazy a/n: i got super carried away with this lol i kinda just took this request and ran with it and well... here we are :) enjoy!
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Steve never lets you win. 
He thinks it’s letting you off too easy.
The boy’s competitive to a fault. He can’t stomach a loss, even if it’s in something as meaningless as a carnival game you only wanted to play for the giant dinosaur plushie that’s half the size of you. 
He always ends up giving it to you when he inevitably wins, wearing a big smug smile on his pretty, pink lips. You take it from him with a pout. The childlike scowl is quelled only by the funnel cake he buys you after.
It doesn’t matter what it is — a game of monopoly, trivia questions on the ends of popsicle sticks, taking in the groceries — Steve finds a way to make all of it competitive. He wants to have the most fake money and little fake properties, he wants to shout the answer before anyone else can, he wants to carry more heavy plastic bags than everyone else. Just to say that he did it.
If you put this much effort into school, you’d be in college right now, Harrington, you’d tease.
Not my fault you’re a sore loser, he’d retort. I’ll let you win the next one, sunshine. Promise.
He never does.
You and Steve play-wrestle like a couple of kids. It usually comes out of nowhere. You’ll make fun of him, he’ll shove at you, and you’ll shove back harder. Then it just turns into a game of who’s stronger than who — and it’s always him. Obviously. 
You try your hardest to prove your strength, pushing at him with nimble fists and wriggling something fierce in his hold, but you come out red-faced with a participation ribbon laced within his taunts. And even though he’s got several inches on you and quite a bit more muscle, he never lets you win. Ever.
He manhandles you, perhaps a little too rough at times, but it wasn’t like he had to be kind to you. You weren’t dating or anything, you were best friends — this is what a couple of pals do, right?
They play fight on the carpet of the other’s movie room after being told their closest confidant would murder them in a game of fuck, marry, kill between Anthony Michael Hall and Robert Downey Jr. with zero hesitation.
Friends totally force the other onto the ground by grabbing at the bottoms of their thighs before kneeling over them, wrenching their wrists in their grip and pressing their hands to the ground on either their head.
It’s the definition of being best buds. Truly.
For the first time, you manage to get the better of him. You’re pressed beneath his weight, breathing heavy and rapidly tiring, and you wave the white flag of surrender.
Just when Steve's letting you up and swiping a hand through his mussed hair, you force him onto his back and straddle his waist — like he always did to you — and giggle with mirth at the idea of finally beating him.
He doesn’t find a similar enthusiasm in it, though. His tune changes almost immediately.
You beam down at him, the words of a taunt on the tip of your tongue, and you notice how his cheeks flare pink. His honey-colored eyes widen and his mouth falls softly agape. He glows red in embarrassment and you think he’s just upset that he lost, but he sounds like he’s panicking. The words rush out of his mouth — “Alright, shit, fine— you win, sunshine. Get off, alright? Off, off, off.” 
His hand swats at the side of your knee to hurry you off him.
“Alright, jeez!” you concede with the roll of your eyes, halfway annoyed that he just can’t let you win anything. “You don’t have to be such a sore loser about it, Harrington—”
You understand his haste in that moment, when you feel him brush your inner thigh. Like, all of him — as in, the boner trapped in the sweatpants he’s wearing, all rock hard and raging in its cotton confines.
Suddenly, you’re just as bashful and panicked as he is. 
Your eyes lock at the rock hard realization but neither of you can think of anything to say.
Do you apologize? Do you act like you didn’t feel anything? Do you trust your voice to make a stupid joke so you can move on and forget any of this ever happened? You’re not quite sure.
And in the five-second silence, Steve just wants to die. Internally, he’s praying for a strike of lightning to take him out on the spot because he’s never been more embarrassed in his life.
He’s certain that he’s grossed you out, or worse, made you irreversibly uncomfortable.
In the mess of thoughts running through his head, he tries to rush out some apology that might soothe the awkward air. Your laughter does all the work for him before he can.
It bubbles like sunshine from your mouth, filling the silence and allowing Steve to breathe again. He finds himself chuckling under his breath with you, though he’s still red-faced about it.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Keep laughing, sunshine,” he chides with the roll of his eyes, though a smile hints at the edges of his mouth. He rises on his elbows to look at you. “What was I supposed to do? Your tits were in my face and your ass was on my dick— sorry for being human!”
“Sorry, alright? I’m sorry,” you manage through hearty giggles. You settle finally at his side and look over at him, still grinning. “Want me to leave so you can
 take care of it or whatever?”
He knows you’re joking but he shakes his head anyway. “Nah, it’ll go away. Let’s just
 finish this stupid movie.”
“Stupid movie? You picked it!”
“Yeah, so I could see Kelly Lebrock in a bikini!” he argues back, more thankful for the familiar bickering than he ever thought he’d be. “But you made me miss it!”
“It’s not my fault you can’t keep your hands to yourself.”
“Watch it, sunshine,” he grumbles, half-heatedly. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”
“I think you’re the one who needs to worry about finishing, Harrington,” you joke and giggle when he shoves you.
You would’ve helped him, if he wanted you to. You know it’s uncomfortable and that it’s partially your fault. You also know that all of those are just excuses to cover up the fact that you’ve always wondered what his cock looks like.
He’d need only ask you, but you know that he won’t.
Even if he did like you in that way, it’d just make things all complicated. And that was totally the opposite of the effortless relationship you’ve developed with him. The kind of effortless where he can be rock hard next to you, and you’ve both decided to just move on from it.
Steve, meanwhile, spends the rest of the movie not watching a single damn minute of it. He’s too busy trying to calm himself down like a teenage boy and figuring out he can get you on top of him again without being too obvious about the whole thing.
He decides he might just start swallowing his pride and let you win sometimes.
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starimusprime · 3 months ago
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ok ok!! ya got me to start a talkin!! ok so anyways im not much of a storyteller but my hc is post movie so big fat spoilers on the way
anyway, elitas been like SUPER clingy to optimus after she gives him the lil pep talk
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peep the images. constantly being by his side. heck, even CHOOSING to run ACROSS the battlefield to be next to him
so oppys like “hmm, she DOES know what she’s doing and i do need someone who’s more experienced in leading.”
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yea THAT scene (her flustered “who me đŸ„ș??” will forever be living rent free in my mind)
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(ew wips)
optimus: Well, I’ve been thinking of another promotion; With the Quintessons still at large, there’s a chance they’ll have my head. I’m needing a bodyguard. Someone by my side 24/7 to ensure I don’t make “stupid decisions”
(im terrible at writing dialogue dont bully me đŸ˜”đŸ‘ŠđŸœ)
so elita sees this as an opportunity. Which yknow, her whole character arc was her wanting to prove herself and all.
especially now bc she feels SO SO guilty that she couldn’t save optimus, or stop Megatron in time :((
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(adding to this hc she does cling to his left arm after the events(tm)
Oh yea and oppy now lives in the tower as he is now The Leader Of Cybertron
he moves most of his pals in their too (jazz, B, WheelJack, Arcee etc.)
HOWEVER THO
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(nother wip)
he wants elita in HIS quarters bc shes his bodyguard. so of course he’s gonna need her berth closest to him
(Perhaps 2 ppl 1 bed trope teehee đŸ€­)
anyway. das my 2 cents. i hope that helped in anyway for prompts. again i aint much of a storyteller but i have concepts!!
I need to break this down into a summary of my favorite points because WHAT THIS IS SO GOOD!
Clingy Elita. Makes sense, especially her tendency to be on his left. Launchpad for tension, perhaps Optimus starting to wonder if she’s okay because she’s being overprotective even for a bodyguard.
Optimus seeking leadership advice from Elita since she was the captain of his mining team and he’s never been in an authoritative role for anyone ever. Builds trust, confidence, and mutual respect between them. Beautiful.
Mutual subconscious pining revealed through Elita’s desire to prove herself via protecting and advising Optimus and through Optimus’ desire to station her as close to him as possible at all times, maybe because he is as afraid of losing her as she’s afraid of losing him (again). Did I mention mutual pining? đŸ€Œ
Optimus not just taking over Sentinel’s tower (does anyone know its official name?) but sharing it as a sort of headquarters with his Autobot High Command. Love exploring the facets of his being that separates him from mecha like Sentinel, selflessness being one of the biggest differences.
Thank you so much Munejewels I am eating this up for dessert tonight and will use it as inspiration to produce a banquet for my fellow Optimus Prime X Bodyguard Elita fans
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silverzoomies · 11 months ago
Text
Turkish Delight
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peter maximoff x reader smut
chapter 1: sweet talkin'
link to chapter 2: here
warnings: shameless smut, porn without plot, phone sex, mutual masturbation, best friends, dirty talk
word count: 6,368
a/n: hiyaaa !! i'm back with more filth !! peter speaks russian in this one. i've seen people use russian in place of sokovian language before. and since i've been learning russian for a while, i thought i'd give it a shot !! if you're familiar with the language and anything seems off, please let know asap !! as usual, apologies if peter seems ooc, or if my writing isn't up to par !!
tag list (if i forgot you, please remind me !!): @dewberryobssesed @violetharmonscupcake @kaismanwich @jellyluvr @taintandviolent @ahoyladiesz @scene-and-dandylover @quickandsilvers @luttic @billielourdslays
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Chillaxing on the sofa in his mom’s basement, Peter drew out a sigh. His hooded eyes gaped at the TV screen. As he channel surfed, his thumb tapped lazily on the remote. Peter stopped to check each channel in abrupt intervals. Afternoon cable was boring as hell today. It failed to grasp his short lived attention span.
Seinfeld reruns? He saw just about all of ‘em. Soap Operas? Those were more his mom’s thing. Huge pass. Nature documentaries? Could be cool. Guess it depended on which one, though.
Oh. It was the one about the polar bear’s great journey across the arctic! Nifty enough. Except, Peter saw that one three or four times already now. ĐĄĐșŃƒŃ‡ĐœŃ‹Đč (boring). йаĐș сĐșŃƒŃ‡ĐœĐŸ (So boring).
‘Kay, soooo
TV was kind of a no-go. Instead, Peter popped on the PS1 and settled for a game of Metal Gear Solid. The game’s opening intro was a little too slow for his liking, but Peter forced himself to focus. It sucked he was so antsy today, so fidgety and impatient. He needed some kind of distraction. Any distraction. And he needed one fast.
Peter bounced a leg, half invested in the game’s dialogue. His fingers absentmindedly flicked the controller buttons. Not even five minutes into playing, he found himself frustrated and bored again. This time around, he figured some company might ease his ennui.
He darted across the arm of the couch to a side table. Over a stack of comic books and empty cans of soda, he snatched the receiver to a Garfield phone. Peter dialed a number in less than a second. Too fast, at first. The phone didn’t even register his request. Rolling his eyes, he dialed the number again. Slower this time.
Peter kept the vibrant hunk of orange plastic between his cheek and shoulder. Buzzy ringing echoed on the other end of the line, as he waited for the recipient to pick up. The time it took for a voice to finally respond felt like fifty billion years. Your voice. One of Peter’s closest comrades. The pal he shared most, if not all, of his free time with.
There were days when you visited, and you laid back on the sofa with him. With your legs stretched over his lap and a magazine in your hands, you relaxed. Peter would always do his usual, playing whatever game he ‘bought’ from the local K-Mart. Every time he cursed himself for making a misstep, you giggled. You knew how frustrating it was for him, if he wasn't a hundred leaps ahead of everything. And just to get back at you - but also to hear you laugh again - he’d reach over and dig his fingers into your belly.
He loved that it took such minimal effort to make you laugh. You always had an easygoing warmth about you. And maybe you were also pretty cute too. Sometimes, the crook of your smile made him blush. Oh, and you didn't mind duking it out in Mario Kart sometimes. That was also kinda cool. What more could a lonesome guy ask for? ĐŸŃ€ĐŸŃŃ‚ĐŸ ĐŽŃ€ŃƒĐ·ŃŒŃ. ĐĐžŃ‡Đ”ĐłĐŸ Đ±ĐŸĐ»ŃŒŃˆĐ” (Just friends. Nothing more). Yeah. He could be content with that. No problem.
Ten minutes into conversation with you, Peter breathed a yawn into the receiver.
“You know, I’m surprised you have the patience for talking on the phone.” You joked.
The speakers roared with a soft buzz in his ear. Peter didn’t register your words at first. Blinking lazily, he tapped the PS1 controller buttons at rapid speed. In the game, Snake fought off an onslaught of bad guys. Peter faked his offense with a scoff.
“Seriously? Man, what’s up with that? It’s like everyone thinks I can’t do stuff at normal speed without goin’ berserk.” He said, cursing under his breath as Snake got gunned down again.
A small part of him wished you were there, with your legs over his lap, cracking jokes at his expense. Over the phone, you emitted a gentle laugh.
“Because you have? Multiple times, dude!” You said.
Surely you could hear Peter’s eyes roll in his skull.
“Oh, yeah? Name five.” he pressed.
The fast paced clicking of the buttons echoed like a trill in the basement. He overheard the sound of rustling as you shifted in place. If Peter had to guess, he’d bet his left foot you were still lazing around in bed. It was a Saturday, after all. With the hour tipping on the edge of late afternoon. You always moved at the slowest of speeds on your off days.
“I’m just saying! I totally get it. Even I don’t have the patience for chats on the phone sometimes.” You said, and a squeaky yawn followed.
More rustles scuffed from your end, as if you moved to stretch. Keeping his gaze fixed on the flickering, CRT screen; Peter followed flashes of light from each grunt’s gun. His reaction time proved effortless as always. His methods, not so much.
“Nah, it’s cool.” Peter mumbled after a beat, “Doesn’t bother me much if I’m talkin’ to you.  You’re not boring, first of all. And on the off chance I do get bored, I can just say - hey, babe, I’m gonna hang up. And you won’t get-uhhh
” He lingered on his next thought, distracted with gunning down more masked baddies, “You won’t get, like, butt hurt over it."
“Why would I?” You laughed, “Did someone seriously get offended by that?”
“My aunt did once. She got mad pissed ‘cuz I told her I was ‘kinda bored’ on the phone. She made me pass it to my mom, so she could rat me out. Said I showed a ‘lack of consideration'; ‘er whatever.” Peter paused, brows furrowed. In Metal Gear, Snake perished yet again. Peter rolled his eyes once more, “She’s kinda mental, though. ŃŃ‚ĐŸ ĐČĐŸĐ·ĐŒŃƒŃ‚ĐžŃ‚Đ”Đ»ŃŒĐœĐŸ (it’s outrageous).”
Your only response was a quiet hum of acknowledgement. Peter broke the silence that followed.
“Hey, you’re not busy today, are you? Wanna do somethin’ later?” He asked, knowing full well you had jack shit to do.
“I don’t know. I’m feeling soooooo lazy today.” You playfully teased.
The soft pattern of your breathing sent electric tingles down Peter’s neck. Shuddering, he shook off those unexpected chills. Another beat, and Peter groaned, as Snake perished over a low poly landscape. You gotta take it slow and stealthy, man - Peter reminded himself.
â€œĐ„ĐŸŃ€ĐŸŃˆĐŸ (okay)? So? Come be lazy over here then.” He replied, “Tell you what. If you do, I’ll go ‘n snag some of those Turkish delights you like. The same ones my mom gotcha for your birthday. Remember? From Sokovia?”
Your voice perked up instantly, bringing a cheesy smile to his face. Homely fondness simmered in his chest, and Peter felt himself blush. He pulled his lip between his teeth, pausing his game to focus more on conversation. Leaving Snake stranded in the middle of the snow.
“Oh my gosh!! No way?? I haven’t had those in forever! Seriously, the ones from Sokovia?” You chimed.
“Hell yeah! But you gotta get outta bed first, dingus. C’monnnn.” Peter whined, “I’m so bored here, babe. Oh! I totally forgot. I finally got my hands on a Gameboy Color too. Swear on my life I paid for it this time. You could come over ‘n try it ouuuuuut.” He teased in a sing-song voice, wiggling his brows.
“Gameboys and Turkish delights? You’re spoiling me today, Peter! What’s the occasion?” You joked over the line.
He shrugged, forgetting you couldn’t see him, “Bored outta my friggin’ skull. That’s what.” After a beat, he awkwardly added, “And maybe I like hangin’ with you? Do I even need a reason?”
“Well, I gotta admit
you had me at Turkish delights.” You feigned a dreamy tone.
Peter chuckled again. Under his breath, he muttered softly, “ Đ­Ń‚ĐŸ ĐČсД, Ń‡Ń‚ĐŸ тДбД ĐœŃƒĐ¶ĐœĐŸ, ĐŽĐ° (That’s all you need, huh)?”
“Huh?” You asked, oblivious to his comment, “What’d you say? I didn’t catch that last part.”
Peter ran a hand through his silver locks, leaving his hair loose and messy. Cradling the phone in his other hand, he knitted his lips to one side.
“Nothin’. Don’t worry about it. You want me to come get you? ‘Cuz I can.” He checked his digital watch, decked out in a Star Wars theme, “I can right now, if you-”
“It’s fine. I love going out with you, but I really don’t wanna deal with motion sickness today. I just had lunch too. No offense!” Another yawn rang over the phone, hitching into a squeal at the end. Peter didn’t realize he was smiling so big until his cheeks started to hurt, “I’ll just drive over. Sound good?”
Peter rolled his eyes, sarcastically groaning. He threw his head back into the sofa cushions, playing up his fake frustrations.
“Auuuuuuugh! But that’ll take years.” He dragged a hand down his face, pulling his cheeks under his fingertips, “Is this ‘cuz you blew chunks last time?? You know that doesn’t bother me, right? Everyone does it, babe.”
You made a noise of disgust. Something like an eugh , “Please, don’t remind me. That sucked so much. Yeah, no, I’d rather not. I really need a break from it.” You sighed again. Kind of a bummer, but he could deal.
“It’s whatever you want, I guess. So, when are you gonna head out?” Peter asked, sitting up on the sofa and putting the controller aside.
He bounced a leg at rapid speed, his knee moving in a flesh tone blur of motion. Less from agitation, more due to anticipation.
“I’ll leave soon. Just give me a few minutes. Think you can wait?” You chuckled in that sweet, quirky way again. The melody gave Peter butterflies. Ignoring the fluttering in his belly, he pushed himself off the couch. Grabbing the base of the Garfield phone, Peter cradled the lil guy in an arm. He figured he may as well get dressed, and freshen up before you arrived, “It’s so cold today. I haven’t even gotten out of bed yet! I’m still bundled up in my undies. Got your jacket on too. You left a Game n Watch in the pocket, by the way. I didn’t even know they still made those!”
“Yeah. I totally called that one. Get up already, ya slacker.” Peter joked trapping the phone between his cheek and shoulder again. He scratched his bare chest. His fingertips grazed the sparse covering of white hairs there. Yawning, he nodded, “Okay. Okay. Okay. Sure, just-”
Something about your last statement finally clicked in Peter’s brain. He rapidly blinked, shaking his head fast enough to give himself whiplash. Peter did a quadruple take.
â€œĐŸĐŸĐŽĐŸĐ¶ĐŽĐž (wait)! Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, waiiiiiit 
hold on a sec.” He narrowed his eyes, “Say that again?”
“Say what again? The part about the Game n Watch?” You asked, and Peter’s brows furrowed.
“N-Nah. The
did you just
have you been lyin’ around in your underwear this whole time?”
“Uh, yeah? Why? Is this revolutionary information?” You chuckled.
“In my jacket? Like, I didn’t hear that wrong? What’d you like
sleep in it ‘er somethin’?” Peter arched a silver brow, pressing the phone handset closer to his cheek. As if doing so might somehow help him hear you more clearly.
It really wasn’t that big of a deal either way. You borrowed his jackets all the time. Peter never thought anything of it before this conversation. Aside from the fact that - when you did return them, he loved the sweet scent you left behind. The smell of your perfume, with the added bonus of your natural pheromones

Đ•Đ±Đ°Ń‚ŃŒ (Fuck)! Why was he even thinking about this? The two of you had such a casual thing goin’ on. But now, Peter thought of you in a different light. Something friskier. Not that he meant to. Maybe killer boredom + cute friend = horny speedster. Or perhaps the planets aligned in some totally off-the-wall way.
Whatever the case, Peter’s mind raced on autopilot. He pictured the way you might look right now. In your room, spread across your bed in nothing but your underwear and - Đ•Đ±Đ”ĐœĐ° ĐŒĐ°Ń‚ŃŒ (Holy shit) - his jacket. With your long legs bare, your knees bumping together as you squeezed your thighs shut. Tummy exposed. And your tits-
Woooooooah there! Slow down, casanova! Peter shouldn’t be
nah, he really shouldn’t be wondering what your breasts looked like. Ppfffbbbbt 
’kay, so, maybe in the past he thought about it once or twice. But what dude wouldn't contemplate the hidden mystery of a pal's titties sometimes, ah?
“Well, so what if I did? That doesn’t weird you out, does it?” You asked, a careful waver in your voice.
“Uhhhh
nahhh, babe. Just
” Peter shifted in place, rerouting his thoughts, “Just
got one hell of an image in my head. Might’ve pictured you like that for no particular reason at all.”
Lucky for him, you didn’t seem to think anything of his confession.
“Not much to imagine
” You replied. ĐĄĐŸĐŒĐœĐžŃ‚Đ”Đ»ŃŒĐœĐŸ (Doubtful).
“I mean
pffbbbttt
sure, yeah. Maybe not.” Peter awkwardly laughed, scratching the back of his neck. His voice dropped, a little more hushed, “Unless
you’re wearin’ some really cute panties over there.” Again, he laughed, rushing out a quick, “I’m kiddin’. I’m kiddin’. I’m kiddin’. I’m totally messin’. Just bustin’ your balls, babe.”
Except
he sorta wasn’t. Peter found himself oh-so curious. Twisting the phone's orange wire around his finger, he anticipated your reaction. Anxious you might think him weird for pushing things too far. Never had the two of you charted this kind of territory. It was a minefield, with a 95% chance neither one would make it out unscathed.
“I guess? I think they’re kind of cute.” You added, innocent as ever. Awesome. You weren’t peeved at him, at least. Peter brought the phone to his chest, exhaling an anxious breath to calm his racing heart. When he put the phone to his ear again, he figured you’d moved on. But your cadence shifted. To test the boundaries of your friendship, you teased, “They’re pretty small on me, though.”
Ah. Ah. Đ˜ĐœŃ‚Đ”Ń€Đ”ŃĐœĐŸ. ĐžŃ‡Đ”ĐœŃŒ ĐžĐœŃ‚Đ”Ń€Đ”ŃĐœĐŸ (Interesting. Very interesting). What an unexpected but totally wicked development. Peter lowered himself slowly onto the couch, setting the phone's base on the side table. He eased backwards into the cushions, and tightened his twisting of the phone wire. Swallowing hard, Peter found he had difficulty focusing. Especially with his imagination running so goddamn wild.
“Yeah? 
How small is pretty small?” He dared to ask.
Long seconds of silence ticked by at the pace of a narcoleptic sloth. If Peter weren’t so eager to hear what you had to say, he may have torn his hair out. Over the line, you laughed.
“Small enough they barely cover my ass? Why are you so curious all of a sudden?” You cooed.
Peter fluttered his inky eyes, nibbling chapped skin on his lip. Fuzzy pink swarmed the rest of his face, as his mind conjured images of you so effortlessly. Clear as day. Heat stirred to life in his groin, and Peter pictured the way your plush cheeks might hold in tight painties. His breath hitched.
“I-uh
” Peter felt the heat in his cheeks creep down his neck, flustered at lightspeed, “Just thinkin’...maybe you should do somethin’ about that?” He gritted his teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose. What a lame response, â€œĐ§Đ”Ń€Ń‚ ĐČĐŸĐ·ŃŒĐŒĐž (damn it)!” He huffed under his breath, too quiet for you to hear.
Toying with this newly discovered sexual tension, Peter humorously asked-
“Sooooooo
what color?”
You giggled into the receiver, airy and light. His body registered the noise somewhere , down south of his belly. He wondered if you were as flustered as him. And the visual of your bashful face and shy smile had his heartbeat ramping up to mach 10.
“What? A-Are you for real asking me
oh my god, dude!” Your giggles turned into goofy snorts. Which he found so endearing. Once you composed yourself, you spoke again. Though, your tone came off as more flirtatious, “If you really wanna know so bad
then fine. They’re black. Lacy. With a little bow on the front.”
Đ”Đ”Ń€ŃŒĐŒĐŸ (Shit)...
His silver brows soared high, disappearing under his bangs. Paying little attention to his instinctive actions, Peter guided his free hand between his thighs. Inwardly, he told himself he was only adjusting his uncomfortable hard-on. ‘Cuz it’d be totally weird if he did anything else
right? Best to ignore the movement of his thumb, as it absentmindedly circled his bulge.
“Huh
that’s so
” Peter blinked, clearing his throat and masking his nerves with a chuckle, “‘Kay, I’ll be up front with you, babe. That sounds cute as hell. Very nice.”
“Really? Oh, please, Peter. They’d be cute on anybody.” You scoffed.
“Uh huh
” He smirked, dropping his tone even lower, “‘Cept, now that I’m really thinkin’ about it? I’m bettin’ they look criminally cute on you.” Peter lazily smirked.
You laughed, breathless like you ran a thousand miles, “Wh-...what are we even doing right now? Seriously, why am I talking to you about my-” The uneasiness in your voice bled through the line.
Your concern was for good reason. Nevertheless, Peter interrupted you mid-sentence.
“Easy there, chuckles. We’re just chatting. Nothin’ too unusual, right? We’ve had some seriously raunchy conversations before. Remember? That time I got laid on a golf course? You told me about that time some dude shot a load in your eye. What’s the difference, anyway?” Peter grimaced, as he recalled your story from eons ago.
You giggled yet again, “Peter, you know damn well what the difference is!” You clarified with a sigh, still playful. The phone wire went slack around his finger, as Peter second guessed himself. He parted his lips, on the cusp of apologizing. Bringing one hand up to the phone, he held it loosely. Your sugary voice chimed again, “I’m kinda wondering, though
what would you think if I told you I’m topless right now?”
His grip compressed around the handset.
“Topless, huh?” Peter cast a quick glance at his hard-on, twitching painfully under his boxers. His mind jumped straight to sinful places again. Peter thought about what your tits probably look like, embraced in his jacket. Nipples hard, grazing the inner-lining. He swallowed, “What’re you tryna tell me? You gonna drive over here in nothin’ but that?” Peter quipped.
A more sultry laugh melted through the receiver. Peter trembled, as your smooth voice coaxed him like a tempting song. His free palm squeezed his bulge, putting pressure to his length over fabric. Peter’s brows turned inward, and he fluttered his eyes shut.
“I guess that wouldn’t be so bad, if it wasn’t so cold outside. It’s freezing today. I don’t know how you can run as fast as you do when the weather’s like this.” Your tone disguised itself with lighthearted innocence again, “It’s not any warmer in my room either. My nipples could cut glass. They’re, like, soooo hard.”
Peter adjusted himself on the sofa, giving the swell of his bulge another teasing squeeze.
“ бы ĐŒĐ°Đ»Đ”ĐœŃŒĐșая ŃĐŸĐ±Đ»Đ°Đ·ĐœĐžŃ‚Đ”Đ»ŃŒĐœĐžŃ†Đ° (you little temptress)...”  His hot breath fanned the phone.
“I love it when you talk like that
” You replied, “Even if I have no idea what you’re saying. It sounds really hot, to be totally honest.”
“Oh, yeah?” Peter teased his lip with his teeth, speaking in a more flirtatious voice; buttery smooth, “ ĐŻ забыл ĐČŃ‹ĐœĐ”ŃŃ‚Đž ĐŒŃƒŃĐŸŃ€ (I forgot to take out the trash)...” For added effect - just to embarrass you more - he tacked on a husky moan.
Peter made himself blush, as the sound came out far more pornagraphic than he intended. The rasp of his voice scraped through the line in a hushed, “ Oh, yeah, baby. ”
The erotic tension you felt from his teasing was palpable, even over the phone. Peter could sense the shift in the way you gasped. So faint, so shy, so cute.
“Oh
oh, wow...uhm
” You tried concealing your bashfulness with more of those candy coated giggles. But Peter could practically hear the blood racing to your cheeks, “What’s that mean? Something good, I hope.”
Peter bit his tongue, lips turning in a cheeky grin.
“It means you’re really turnin’ me on
”
Another hesitant pause fell between the two of you, before you scoffed.
“Oh my god, no it doesn’t! I can hear you laughing!” You griped, snickering along with Peter. A few more tension heavy beats pulsed over the line. You spoke again, “Hey
I’m sorry. Can I put things on pause for a sec? I just wanted to ask
are you okay with this?”
“Are you?” Peter gently asked, giving you ample time to think about it.
“I don’t know
maybe
” You whispered, “Isn’t this, like, super weird for you?”
“I mean
suuuuuuure. It’s totally weird. If you kept goin', I wouldn't be into it...at all...” He bullied you with a playful edge, hoping you could read the flirtatious undertone in his voice.
“Ohhhhh
you wouldn't be?” Judging by the saucy lilt in your voice, you most definitely caught on, “You know what would be even weirder?”
Peter adjusted on the sofa again. Getting comfortable, he laid on his back. His taut legs stretched across the cushions, and Peter propped his head on the couch’s arm.
“Whazzat? Enlighten me, babe. I’m listenin’. You got my full attention.” He teased.
“Your full attention, huh? I must be doing something right.” You snickered, “So
you know how I said I love it when you talk
like that?” Your voice wavered, “What I really meant was-uhm
when you do that on the phone
it makes me kind of horny.”
His brown hues burst open, wider than ever. Peter’s pupils dilated, expanding as far as the universe itself. He swallowed again, his mouth falling open. Your filthy confession set his arousal ablaze, making his dick twitch. As heated desire took over, Peter couldn’t restrain himself. He snuck his fingers under the waistband of his boxers, fingertips gliding over silver hairs. A small piece of him almost felt guilty for doing so.
“It does, huh? Đ„ĐŸŃ€ĐŸŃˆĐŸ Đ·ĐœĐ°Ń‚ŃŒ (Good to know).” Peter whispered, tenderly grasping his shaft.
You made a naughty squeak of a noise in response, “Y-Yeah, Peter, I’m serious. You really have to stop doing that.”
â€œĐŸĐŸŃ‡Đ”ĐŒŃƒ (Why)? Are you soakin’ yourself over it? Gettin’ a lil wet? It’s cool. You can tell me
” Peter heckled, expelling a breath as he gave his dick a single tug.
“Oh, I bet you wanna know all about that, huh? You’re so bad, Quickie...” You teased, clicking your tongue.
Peter’s ears burned, turning pink as he took in the coquettish nature of your voice. Scoffing, he feigned his indignance.
“What?! Hey, nah nah nah! You started this! Đ­Ń‚ĐŸ ĐœĐ”ŃĐżŃ€Đ°ĐČДЎлОĐČĐŸ, чДрт ĐČĐŸĐ·ŃŒĐŒĐž (it’s not fair. Dammit)!” Peter laughed, carefree with you as always, “You can’t seriously drop a bombshell like that and expect me not to-”
“Not to come running?” You hummed, sweet tempered, “I’m just messing with you, baby. But since we’re on the topic
I made such a mess of these little panties. Just from listening to your voice.”
Peter couldn’t even pretend he didn’t like the sound of ‘baby’ on your tongue.
“Oh, man
anything but the panties
” He joked, “You should-uh
you should save yourself some trouble. Y’know
take ‘em off, maybe? Might be more comfortable.” Peter hinted, playing nonchalant, “Just tryna be a good friend. Give you some advice. You should for sure take it.”
“But I’m already so cold
” You whimpered, “Your jacket’s so warm. Smells good too. Really good. But it’s not enough to keep me covered.” You spoke with flirtatious innocence, and Peter played along.
“No harm done, ĐżŃ€ĐžĐœŃ†Đ”ŃŃĐ° (princess). I’ll warm you up if you need me to.” He reassured, sweet talking you over the phone, “бы ĐŽŃƒĐŒĐ°Đ”ŃˆŃŒ, Ń‡Ń‚ĐŸ я ĐœĐ” ĐżĐŸĐ·Đ°Đ±ĐŸŃ‡ŃƒŃŃŒ ĐŸ тДбД? (Do you think I won't take care of you)?" Peter mumbled again. He listened to your sickly sweet laughs, before asking, “So
do you get like this every time we talk on the phone?”
“Mmmm
maybe.” You hummed, “What if I said yes?” You shuffled around again, and Peter’s mind jumped elsewhere. He imagined you shed yourself of damp, black lace. Leaving you wanton and needy in nothing but his jacket, “You know
we’ve been talking about me a lot this whole time. You wanna tell me what you’re wearing? I don’t really have a visual.”
“Oh
me?” Your request caught Peter off guard.
“Yeah, you. Who else, blockhead?” You playfully quipped, smoothing your voice to say, “You don’t have to be shy. I just wanna know, so I can think about taking it off of you.”
Peter didn’t know he could blush this much. Puffing a bashful laugh, he looked down at his body. Mostly nude and toned enough. He had his x-gene to thank for his pecs and hard abs. A fluffy bouquet of silver hairs peeked out from his boxers. Underneath, his dick throbbed, pressing eagerly into fabric.
“Uhm
I’m not wearin’ a lot? Nothin’ special. Just some black, boxer briefs, I guess. Wait, no-” Peter lifted a foot, his lips curling in a goofy smile, “Got my Star Wars socks on too.”
A sensual moan graced his ears, “That’s so hot.” You softly whined, “Star Wars socks? Peter, just take me now.”
Despite the fact you were totally messing with him, that playful comment made his chest tight. 
“Nothing else though?” You pressed.
“Nnnnnnnnnnope.” He drew out the word, popping the P, “Just the-uh
yeah. Boxers ‘n sexy socks. Not much to take off.”
“And you’re pretty fit, aren’t you? You always looked really jacked to me, so-” You said.
Peter cocked a brow, snickering to cover his embarrassment.
“Wooooahhh
you been checkin’ me out, babe?” He asked, darting his dark hues across his athletic bod. Peter flexed an arm, “Sure, I guess I’m in decent shape.” He found he couldn’t dismiss your compliments. Peter looked good, and he knew it. But he preferred hearing it from you, “Hey, you wanna know somethin’, like, way crazy?”
“This? What we’re doing right now is so crazy, right?” You laughed, sounding as bashful as him.
Peter snickered, “True. Truuuue. But, uh
” He shrank in his spot on the couch, pressing the vibrant handset closer into his cheek. Pre-cum seeped through his boxers, as Peter tugged his dick steady and slow. Careful not to stimulate himself too much yet. He dropped his voice to a hushed rasp, “I’m kinda in the same spot you are right now. If you-uh
if you catch my drift.”
The two of you knew each other for a long time. Several years, in fact. But never once did Peter think he’d hear his closest pal say-
“Ohhhh. Are you hard right now, baby?”
Oh. Yeah, this buddy-buddy friendship was in major trouble. Doomed to crash and burn. As soon as the words fell from your lips, spoken in your honeyed voice; Peter’s breath hitched in his throat. He sank his teeth so hard into his lip, he almost broke skin.
“Y-Yeah. Since you-uh
started talkin’ about your panties. I’m sorry, babe. Just been kinda bored and worked up all day.” He sheepishly chuckled.
“You poor baby
” You coddled him over the phone. And while he should’ve been embarrassed, Peter had no problem with you talking like that, “Can I ask how big you are?”
Peter stalled for a moment, before pulling the front of his boxers down. His hardness flopped against his belly, pulsating and ruddy from his teasing. Taking his aching length in his hand, he rubbed the underside with his thumb.
“You mean my dick? It’s-uhhhh
like six, maybe seven inches almost?” He squeezed his cock, milking beads of pre-cum, “But size doesn’t matter, yeah? It’s the motion of the ocean, babe.”
“Noooooo, baby. You’re so perfect. Wish I could see how good you look like that
” You cooed over the phone.
Your kindly words and airy tone made the veins in his dick throb with electric heat. Peter clutched his cock tight, pumping the velvet skin a touch faster. Giving himself just a simple taste of relief. His stomach clenched, hardening his abs.
â€œĐĐ” таĐș ĐžĐŽĐ”Đ°Đ»ŃŒĐœĐŸ, ĐșĐ°Đș ты ĐČŃ‹ĐłĐ»ŃĐŽĐžŃˆŃŒ (Not as perfect as you look)...” Peter muttered, drawing in a shallow breath, “Babe, I gotta tell ya, I’m really feelin’ this. I’m so into you right now. W-Want you to keep talkin’ like-uh...”
His imagination took his depravity to the next level. Now, Peter thought about joining you in your room. He wondered how soft and smooth your skin would feel. Supple and hot under his fingertips. What might you look like writhing under him, whimpering as he played with you? As he teased you? Man, you were both so screwed.
“Never thought dirty talking with me would turn you on so much
” You giggled.
Peter secured the handset between his cheek and shoulder. With both hands free, he raised his palm to his lips. He drew a long stripe with his tongue, bringing his damp hand to his cock. The slick lubrication pulled a gentle moan from his throat.
“M-Maybe a little bit. Đ•Đ±Đ°Ń‚ŃŒ (Fuck), maybe a lot.” Peter groaned, labored in his breathing, “Can you - Đ•Đ±Đ°Ń‚ŃŒ (fuck) - you wanna do somethin’ for me? Just a little favor between friends? S’all I’m askin’, baby.”
“Anything you want, Peter.” You mewled.
“Can you- mmmmohgod -” Peter choked up. He almost chickened out, but pushed himself to ask, “Can you touch yourself for me? Please? ĐŸĐŸĐ¶Đ°Đ»ŃƒĐčста, ĐŒĐŸŃ ĐŒĐ°Đ»Đ”ĐœŃŒĐșая ĐżŃ€ĐžĐœŃ†Đ”ŃŃĐ° (Please, my little princess)...” His foreign whispers weaved pretty whimpers from your lips.
“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that, if you want me to. But you have to do the same for me too. It’s only fair, right? Equal exchange?” You whispered, acting playful again.
Peter breathed a guilty chuckle, “Uhm
yeahhhhh
about that
”
You softly gasped, “Have you been-”
“Playin’ with my dick this whole time? Maybe.” Peter admitted. His thumb caught another pearl of pre, spreading the slickness over his sensitive head, “But I’m not, like, totally jerkin’ it yet
” He lied, pressing you to encourage him.
“Oh, you’re not, huh? What are you doing then?” You asked, “Are you being a bad boy, Pietro?” The abrupt drop of his given name shocked him into silence.
Peter felt his groin tighten, and an exhilarating rush electrified his nerves. For the thousandth time, you giggled. And for the thousandth time, Peter’s heart leapt. Dumbfounded, he gathered his composure and played along again.
“Y-Yeah. So bad. You gotta help me, babe. I’m just-...I’m so hard. Don’t think I can stop myself if you keep talkin’ like that.”
Through the receiver, Peter’s ears caught wind of a needy mewl. He gripped his cock hard, guiding his fist in firmer strokes. His legs quivered, and the heels of his Star Wars socks slid across the couch.
“Does it feel good when you touch your pretty cock like that, sweetheart?” You cooed.
Peter almost went straight into cardiac arrest. He jolted in place, feeling his cock stiffen in his grasp.
“СĐČŃŃ‚ĐŸĐč трах (Holy fuck)..." Peter suffocated on his own groans. For an instant, his words failed him, “Uhmmm
hah
wow-uhâ€ŠĐ•Đ±Đ°Ń‚ŃŒ (fuck). Feels good, yeah. Don’t think it’s enough. I need-...uhm
I want-uh
”
“Yeah? What do you want, baby. It’s okay.” You spoke so sugary sweet again.
“I-...ĐŻ ĐżŃ€ĐŸŃŃ‚ĐŸ Ń…ĐŸŃ‡Ńƒ уĐČĐžĐŽĐ”Ń‚ŃŒ Ń‚Đ”Đ±Ń (I just want to see you)...” Peter’s veins tingled under his touch, as he tugged his dick with more urgency, “Shit! I-...how come I never knew you could be like this-” And to Peter’s ultimate humiliation, he whimpered your name. Along with another whiny, “ Đ•Đ±Đ°Ń‚ŃŒ (Fuck). ”
“Like what?” Your coy voice teased him over the line.
“I dunno
so-uh
so damn nasty.” He joked, and even through the phone; he knew he had you flustered again.
“I guess we all have our secrets, hmm? Tell me more, Pietro. When you touch yourself like that. With those big, strong hands
how’s it feel?” You asked, driving him to keep going.
Peter snorted a laugh, “Strong hands? What??” His endearing playfulness took a backseat, as he grunted into the receiver, “God
feels like my strong hand’s not enough. ĐœĐœĐ” Ń€Đ”Đ°Đ»ŃŒĐœĐŸ тДбД ĐœŃƒĐ¶ĐœĐŸ ĐżŃ€ŃĐŒĐŸ сДĐčчас. ĐŃƒĐ¶ĐœĐ° таĐș ŃĐžĐ»ŃŒĐœĐŸ (I really need you right now. I need you so much).” His voice fell to a whisper. Pumping his slick, crimson cock through his fist, he breathlessly pleaded, “Talk to me, baby. Please. Tell me-ohhh
tell me what you’re doin’ over there.”
You squealed a sultry giggle, further igniting Peter’s pleasured frenzy. He squirmed in his spot on the sofa, forcing himself to stay put. Battling the forces of the universe, it was all Peter could do not to race to your room. Just to spread your legs and hump you like a speedy bunny.
“Mmmm
I’m just doing what you asked me to
I’m being so good for you right now.” You whimpered.
“Oh. Okay
uhm
far out. Uh
wanna gimme the steamy details?” He heckled again, fumbling his words in his nervousness, “Please, don’t hold off on me, baby.”
“I’m
” Your precious voice wavered, teeming with awkwardness as your confidence dwindled, “I’m playing with my little pussy. Just for you. And I’m so wet. I can’t stop thinking about your hands
so big
”
â€œĐ‘ĐŸĐ¶Đ” ĐŒĐŸĐč (my god).” Peter muttered. Combating impatience brought upon by his genes, he willed himself to take things slow. His strokes became steady and teasing, as he edged his aching cock, “Holy shit, babe. Yeah? Keep goin’...”
You moaned soft squeals into the receiver, “I want you so bad, Quickie. Please, baby, don’t make me beg. Can you touch this little pussy for me? Please? Your fingers are so big. I don’t think they’d fit all at once. It’s been a while, and I’m so tight.” Your naughty voice pleaded.
“God, I wanna touch you so bad. ĐŻ Ń…ĐŸŃ‡Ńƒ проĐșĐŸŃĐœŃƒŃ‚ŃŒŃŃ Đș ŃŃ‚ĐŸĐč слаЎĐșĐŸĐč ĐșОсĐșĐ” (I want to touch that sweet pussy).” Peter’s impatience got the better of him, and he quickly gave in. He grasped his cock hard, wringing himself fast enough to make his balls bounce. Creasing his brows, he groaned, “Ohhh..What’re you tryna to do to me, babe? Talkin’ about how tight you areâ€ŠĐ•Đ±Đ°Ń‚ŃŒâ€Šâ€
“But I ammmm.” You whined again, “I’m squeezing my tiny fingers so tight. It’s so soft and hot for you. Bet it’d feel really good if you stretched me. With your fingers, with your cock - fuck, Pietro. I just need you, baby.”
“Please, baby, oh, please? Wanna be inside you. Wanna feel you. I promise I won’t go too fast. ĐŻ ĐŸĐ±Đ”Ń‰Đ°ŃŽ (I promise).” Peter whimpered. But as you mewled again, another forceful wave of carnal heat crashed over Peter. In a quieter tone, he choked, â€œĐĐ”Ń‚, я ĐŒĐŸĐłŃƒ. ĐŻ ĐżĐŸĐčЎу таĐș Đ±Ń‹ŃŃ‚Ń€ĐŸ (No, I can. I’ll go so fast).”
“Pietro, you can go as fast as you want, baby. I won’t stop you.” You pleaded, your broken voice so kittenish and wanton, “F-Fuck. I’m rubbing my clit. So sensitive. Thinking about you. Thinking about your mouth on me.”
â€œĐ•Đ±Đ°Ń‚ŃŒ!!” Peter moaned through clenched teeth. His self control rapidly abandoned him. Speedily rutting his sore cock through the squeeze of his fist, his body refused to slow down, â€œĐ“ĐŸĐČĐŸŃ€Ń ĐŸ сĐșĐŸŃ€ĐŸŃŃ‚Đž (Speaking of speed)...” Peter craned his neck back, raising a hand to keep the handset to his ear, “You gotta stop makin’ all those cute noises, baby. Please
I can’t-”
As surges of horny pleasure circulated through his body, Peter thought of you again. He imagined you on your bed, caged under him between his arms. In his daydreams, he kissed you intimately, touching your pretty, naked body. Peter wanted to feel how wet you were for himself. And hell, the danger of pushing your friendship past its limits made you more tempting. Such a lewd, risky thought pushed him closer to the edge of something righteous.
“Baby, I wanna see you. Can I? Can I see you stroke that thick cock? Would you let me? Ohh, fuck, Pietro.” You whimpered. And your noises were so shamelessly lecherous, you could’ve made a pornstar blush, “Can I kiss it, please? Can I kiss your big cock?” You whimpered.
“О Đ±ĐŸĐ¶Đ” ĐŒĐŸĐč, ĐżĐŸĐ¶Đ°Đ»ŃƒĐčста (Oh my god, please)!” Peter choked, every word hitching in his throat, “Baby
babe, you can’t do this. Ya really can’t be-” He laughed lazily, his dark eyes falling half lidded. His cock throbbed, bright red and turning purple at the tip. He rutted in a speedy blur, “Stop. Stop. Stop. I’m gonna
babe, I’m gonna bust-” He slurred.
You squealed his name as loudly as your hushed voice would allow. And Peter swore he could hear the slick sound of your fingers. As they played with your pretty, little cunt.
“I’m gonna cum, baby. Please cum with me. Please? Pietro, OH~!”
“я ĐșĐŸĐœŃ‡Đ°ŃŽ, я ĐșĐŸĐœŃ‡Đ°ŃŽ (I’m cumming, I’m cumming)! ‘M Gonna-” Peter’s moans seeped through the receiver, his wet lips parting and mouth hanging open.
His swollen cock erupted in white-hot jets, coating his pecs and belly. With all his muscles tensed, Peter’s legs trembled. He rode out those lusty waves in tandem with you. The pleasure of orgasm sounded leagues more intense on your side. You took longer to cruise through it, whimpering and moaning Peter’s name. As you did, Peter basked in his momentary afterglow. Keeping the phone pressed to his ear, his head resting on the arm of the sofa; he listened to you with a smirk on his lips. At the end of your journey in ecstasy, your moans turned into flustered giggles.
Peter's thoughts reeled him in again. Imagining you, looking so sheepish and fine in his jacket. Now, he desperately wanted the real deal. To see you in all your post-nut glory. Mere seconds later, his sore cock pulsed to life again. As his hardness squirmed on his belly, Peter breathed another sigh.
On his end, you heard nothing but silence. You kept calling his name, your tired voice infused with anxiety.
“Uhm
Peter? Hey
are you there?” You asked.
And he didn't say a single word more.
862 notes · View notes
cierai · 11 months ago
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COMPARING HAND SIZES — ft. osamu miya, atsumu miya, akaashi keiji, iwaizumi hajime
warnings — reader/you is implied to be shorter because of hand size difference, also let names (baby & love)
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⹳OSAMU was confused as to why you wanted to compare hand sizes. you’ve held hands a million times so you both knew your hands were smaller. “do you just wanna hold my hand?” he asked with a skeptical look across his face. “maybe, maybe not.” you shrugged with a cheeky smile. letting out a sigh the man held up one of his hands and you pressed yours against it immediately. “would’ve never have guess your hands were bigger,” you joke before he interlocks your fingers. “yeah i bet,” osamu says sarcastically, rolling his eyes before leaning in and planting a quick kiss to your lips.
⹳ATSUMU would’ve suggested it not you. he thinks he’s so slick about it too. “baby let me see how different our hand sizes are,” he sort of asks before grabbing your hand and putting it right on his. “tsumu are you being serious right now?” you scoff when you feel him pull your hand to his. “you’ve got small hands,” he notes out loud as if you weren’t already aware. “good observation tsumu.” you roll your eyes pulling your hand away. “you’re no fun,” he pouts from beside you. without saying anything you grab his closest hand and interlock your fingers. “look we can hold hands,” you say holding up your hands. atsumu smiles at your hands and leans in to kiss your cheek.
⹳AKAASHI knew you were up to something when you asked for his hand. “why?” he asked cautiously as he held out his hand to you. “comparing hand size,” you responded while putting your palms on his. “wait, lowkey we have the same hand size.” you giggle at the sight. akaashi furrowed his eyebrows and blinked at your hands. two different sizes—completely different. “you think you’re funny.” he told you as he got a firm grip on your hand and puked you close to him. “completely different hand sizes love,” akaashi added before kissing the top of your forehead. “nice try though”
⹳IWAIZUMI always feeds into your antics and lets you do whatever. he can tolerate your nonsense because it’s second nature to him. “why are we comparing hand sizes like we’re in junior high?” he asked while holding his hand up to you. “i need an excuse to hold your hand.” you admit while placing your pal on his proudly. the brunette’s eyebrows are drawn together in confusion for a moment. “you don’t need an excuse,” he tells you and you smile. “i know i know, let me have fun for once,” you dismiss before interlocking your fingers with his. “fine,” he shakes his head lightly before kissing the top of your head.
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reblogs are appreciated
982 notes · View notes
sharkboywrites · 2 years ago
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Wait, This Is a Date!?
Riddle, Idia, and Malleus with an autistic reader who didn't realize they were on a date
Male/gn reader, autistic reader, missed signals, Idia is implied to also be autistic
A/N: I've noticed that some people aren't very obvious when asking someone out or generally establishing their feelings. I actually realized that one of my ex-friends stopped being friends with me because I wasn't picking up on their signals, what's up with people lmao
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One afternoon after you had finished all of your classes, your closest "friend" approached you looking rather nervous and asked you to accompany them later. Seeing this as just a request to hang out was friends, you accepted. When he suddenly thanks you for going on a date with him halfway through your activity your caught off guard.
"Wait, this is a date!?"
Riddle Rosehearts
Oh boy, be prepared to start apologizing because the once surprised look on his face at your sudden outburst melted to one of pure sadness. He was absolutely dejected
He took this as you rejecting him halfway through the date he put so much effort into
He even baked all the pastries for your little tea party date :(
He cleared his throat and straightened his posture. He put on a serious face despite clearly being on the verge of tears, and apologized for... making you uncomfortable? Wasting your time?
Well that wasn't what you wanted
In another quick outburst you cut him off and say that you didn't actually mean it in a negative way
You started doing the usual over-explaining hoping that he wouldn't get the wrong idea (more than he already had) and apologizing for not getting his signals
The relief he felt in that moment was something he doesn't think he can compare to anything else in his life
He actually started crying for the fact that "oh thank the sevens they're not rejecting me"
After he calmed down the two of you went back to your tea party date, although both of you aware aware that it was a date this time
bonus: Trey and Cater screaming internally after watching all of that from afar (They'd be there for Riddle's first date as emotional support you can't convince me otherwise)
Idia Shroud
Lord have mercy you're going to kill him
It took him so much to build up the courage Ortho blackmailing him to come over and play video games just for you to not know he was asking you on a date???
He played Stardew Valley with you what could be more romantic than that???
He kinda just sits there and stares at you
He's processing give him a minute
Literally the only response he gives you is just a "Uhh..yeah. Duh." (he's trying to not give away how disappointed he is)
And in you just respond with an "Oh."
Awkward level 100%
After sitting there for a few seconds rocking back and forth to make yourself a little more comfortable, you take a deep breath and lean your head on his shoulder
"Well I like this date."
He tries to hide his flustered face after that, but you can see the tips of his hair turn a soft pink in contrast to the usual blue
He really is bad at hiding his emotions
for the rest of the night the two of you keep playing video games together, and you eventually fall asleep on him, which he freaks out about but tries not to wake you up
Really just two autistics trying to figure out how to date and flirt
Malleus Draconia
So funny thing
He thought the two of you were a couple long before the two of you went on your "first date"
You know that thing on tiktok that's like "check with your autistic s/o that they know your dating because it turns out I've been dating someone for months and had no clue" Yeah that's the two of you
In his eyes it was established that the two of you had been dating. He probably confessed in his old poetic fae way of talking.
So he was just like "You are the sunrise to my day, the cool breeze on a summers day, the blood in my veins." and you were just like "Yep me and my good ol' pal Malleus. besties :)"
What do you mean friends don't give each other little trinkets they find pretty? What to you mean that's fae courting?
What do you mean friends aren't that affectionate? What do you mean friends don't hold hands, hug, and tell each other how much they appreciate them?
Honestly when you burst out with the question, he just laughs after a minute while you sit there flustered and confused
he has to sit you down and explain to you that you've both been dating for at least three months by this point. Lilia was even starting to ask him if he was going to ask you to marry him (he's impatient)
He does make sure that you're okay with this relationship and that you actually want to date him
After this you're relationship grows even stronger rather than growing weaker, he thinks it's endearing
He'll make sure to be more forward and literal with you from now on
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if I'm being honest all three of them give me "autistic just not diagnosed yet" vibes. Ty for reading and have a nice day
1K notes · View notes
nicoscheer · 6 months ago
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Milex quotes (ranging from unhinged to batshit crazy while taking a detour through wtf land)
-
- first impressions: “What is this puny spotty kid with his little brown bag ?” (Miles about Alex) “Who’s that jester who makes me laugh so hard as soon as he opens his mouth ?” (Alex about Miles). Via Les Inrocks arcticle
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- “I tell him I love him all the time,” via NME (Miles)
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- “I love you because you’ve got a very strong pain threshold.” Via NME (Miles)
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- since when are you both that close ? “You want to know if we’re going to get married ? If we have sex like real men, between the buttocks ?” Via Les Inrocks article
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- “For kids from the North, it's hard to say but we never stop telling each other that we love each other. Alex knows I'll always be there for him. (How do our girlfriends deal with that? Are they jealous? Maybe we should ask them).” (Miles) Via Les Inrocks article
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- “To me, The Last Shadow Puppets is not even a band. It’s more like a way-out of the notion itself of ‘band’. It’s a space of freedom. There is no embarrassment, no taboo, no limits between us. It's a real trade, we reroute each other's ideas. In the end, it's impossible to quantify the contribution of the two of us. Our complementarity sometimes freaks me out.” (Alex) via Les Inrocks article
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- MK: Totally, to me it’s even the best vocal take of his entire career! (He cuddles him.) AT: Thank you, my dear. (Note: here it says “mon lapin”, which can mean “my dear” but literally translates to “my bunny”) via MyRock Magazine
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- AT: Ah yeah, that’s how it is with my Miles! I start a joke and he’ll finish it! (he pounces on Miles and catches him in an armlock on the settee, before giving his crotch a light slap and shouting “Here comes the nuts!”) You wanna see how close we are as friends, Miles and I? Here, look, a spectacle exclusively for you! (At this point, we move up another notch in this madness: Alex swoops for a bowl of cashew nuts and starts to frenetically toss them at Miles, who tries to catch them with his mouth
 after a fashion. Via MyRock Magazine
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- “Alex is so dedicated to song writing, it’s inspiring to be around. He’s a beautiful soul and I’m honoured to witness him and the band grow. His left ears going to be burning when he hears this
” (Miles) via GQ magazine October 2013
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- “Alex Turner is a genius, isn’t he? He’s a genius fish.” (Miles) via Knack Focus
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Via Kultura Onet
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- “Sometimes we have Skype-sex, or we wank off on FaceTime!” (Miles) via Index
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- “We've been through a lot together. It's like, he's one of those friends, those few best friends you have in life. As you grow older, your circle tends to shrink, but he's remained one of my closest pals. It's almost like a bit of yin and yang between us.” (Miles) via NumĂ©ro
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- Alex turns to Miles and propositions him: “Your place or mine, then?” There’s no-one expect us and the road-crew there to see it, but it feels like a special moment nonetheless. Via NME
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- “I think we can bring the best out in each other, you know? He certainly does that with me.” (Miles) Via Eska Rock
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- “Why, yes, bromances are for sharing your dreams. What a wonderful sentiment.” (Miles) via Interview Magazine
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- AT: Miles is, without a doubt, Wolverine. Wolverine is a style icon to him. I see similarities. Miles always follows his instinct. And he’s capable of fixing things that are broken, whether it’s material or emotional damage, in no time. MK: Alex often reminds me of Gambit. He can change something insignificant into something explosive. He’s very aware of everything that happens around him, something that balances him out. And he can read my mind. Via OOR Magazine 2016
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- “We understand each other and keep each other going. We both have strange ideas and we need the presence of the other to make sense of them.” (Miles) Via OOR Magazine 2016
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- “Sometimes it can be a pressure being the fella in the band who writes the songs. Getting together with Miles I've got someone to bounce ideas off and that is something new for me. Also, it gives me somewhere to hide because he's up there singing with me. In the Arctic Monkeys, there's nowhere for me to hide.” (Alex) via Culture
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- “My best mate. I love him, man. I like the way he pushes himself and keeps that thing of, whatever's going on around you, you're just a lad who loves playing music and writing tunes. He's a prime example of someone who's big but doesn't take anything for granted.” (Miles)
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- “I decipher his thoughts and organise them. When Miles bursts, the idea comes flying. Someone who knows him well enough might be able to filter out the good ideas. But usually, he only has good ideas and it’s up to me to catch everything. That’s my job within this duo. That process releases all kinds of stuff within me, causing me to go into certain directions I would never take my own.” (Alex)
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- “I thought it were going to be like them finding a tape where you’d had an affair,” he grins. “Like your bird had found an affair tape and was watching you having sex with another bird
 but it weren’t like
 an affair tape
 erm, not that I’ve ever made an affair tape.” Alex Turner about the Monkeys’ reaction to The Last Shadow Puppets’ album via NME
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- “And also working with Miles, it comes very much from my heart. You know, with such a close friendship we have. Wanting to work together, it brings something else. I haven’t done too much with other people
 he’s kind of the only one.” (Alex) via Hot Press
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- MK: And he can read my mind. AT: But you can read mine, too. MK: I knew you were gonna say that. AT: And I knew you were gonna say that. via OOR Magazine 2016
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- “Even if we aren't writing half a word is enough. We can finish each other's sentences sometimes and if we focus on it, we can take it to a much deeper level. That's pretty unique. My thinking process is pretty abstract and a lot of people don't know what to do with that. Alex understands me like no other.” (Miles) via OOR Magazine 2016
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- you’re living in Los Angeles too now, miles? “
because Alex lives there
” (Miles) via Humo
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- “He has written a lot of songs – a lyrical wonder, this boy!” (Miles) via Humo
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- The pair live, Turner says, “seven minutes away from each other”. Ask them what a typical night out entails, and they look at each other, then proceed to not be very forthcoming, though Turner will eventually concede that “some of what happens in those situations is disclosed, through the veil of song, on the record. There’s references.” Via Shortlist
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- “Starin’ out the balcony at the moon, wonderin’ where is he, what is he doin’ now, who’s he kissin’” (Alex) via Sidewalk Hustle
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- “
 but this thing we had together
 I know that I was the new kid and he was a sort of superstar, but even from day one, it was amazing. To an outsider, it wouldn’t look equal, but it was always so equal. He made me feel like that, just because it was.” (Miles)
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- “We take it in turns playing the straight man.” (Alex) via Shortlist
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- “Quite cute ! Quite and quite camp, you mean ?” (Miles about their relationship) via NME
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- On what it’s like to work with Kane again, Turner said: “It’s like John Lennon meets
 Paul [McCartney].” Via NME
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- Miles says their relationship was established “on laughter and general stupidness” via the Telegraph
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- Interviewer: Alex, what does Miles bring out in you that
. Alex: A woman can’t bring out in me?
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- Miles and Alex and their endearments and nicknames for each other :
“We always talk about it, me and the boy, y'know?” (one of the cutest things Miles has called Alex is 'the boy' it's so beautiful bc someone asked him on Twitter what he was up to and he just said he was 'going out with the boy'. which boy? it didn't need saying. everyone knows who The Boy in Miles' life is.)
"He's got the face for it...the little diamond."Miles to Alex
"The Little Prince" Miles to Alex x
“Shavambacu” Miles to Alex at 4:01
“You naughty turtle” Alex to Miles- Tlsp @ Paradiso, Amsterdam 2016 during the element of surprise
“Baby” Miles to Alex multiple times
“You scampi fry” Miles to Alex via the guardian
“The Wirral squirrel/wirral riddler” Alex to Miles via absolute radio 2011 at around 10:50
“All aboard the Kane train” Alex to Miles at Lowlands 2016 at around 21:56
“My Miles” Alex to Miles, MyRock interview
“The next song is called ”My Fantasy”
 I’d like to dedicate it to my Alex Turner!” Miles to Alex, live performance
“If I can speak for both Darling” Alex to Miles via El País
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- “He (Alex) turned up one day in red jeans. That surprised me. I like it when he wears red jeans. When they’re tight.”
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- “There's nothing innocent about Miles Kane,”Turner warns, in case anyone was planning to accuse him of luring his fresh-faced co-conspirator into a decadent world of rock star self-indulgence. “He is the antithesis of innocence.” “Ooh,” Kane retorts, archly, “you scampi fry.” Via the Guardian
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- “We went for a bike ride. Tops off. Fred Perry shorts on.” (Alex about their time recording the age of the understatement in rural France Blackbox studio) via Q Magazine 2008
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- You look like you're about to snog each other. AT: “It’s rare that we don’t look like that.” Tlsp at the Mercury music Prize 2008
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- “As far as I’m concerned there are only two superstars: BeyoncĂ© and Miles Kane. You can quote me on that.” (Alex)
197 notes · View notes
cloversnstrawberries · 19 days ago
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platonic!yandere!alastor & 1950s!teen!gn!reader ! ! [prologue]
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series masterlist ! !
description; You and your pals were taking a ride in your friend, Matty's, nice convertible, enjoying the last moments of summer break before school started up again for your senior year. A rich kid without a driver's license and his daddy's BMW changed that all.
additional notes; the start of a series! this doesn't feature Alastor, considering this is just how Reader died/got to hell in the first place, and a little bit of backstory involving them. I tried to make reader as non-descript as possible so you could insert yourself in their shoes! enjoy :] this chapter is pretty heavy though, so be careful!
also, i thought i should mentioned that reader in here is a wolverine! i've always associated them with anger. be ready for a lot of symbolism in this series, that's my jam.
warnings; graphic violence, graphic description of corpses, car crashes, murder (for the sake of revenge), death of close friends, stabbing, head trauma, lots of mentions of blood, brief mention of vomit/vomiting, + let me know if i missed any !
w/c; 2.1k
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While alive, you hadn't put much thought in where you'd go afterwards. After all, you were in the prime of your life! Your senior year was about to begin, and you and your friends were squeezing the last bits of joy from your summer break before it ended.
You were sure you still had at least 50 years in you, and you were carefree. Sitting in the passenger seat of one of your closest friend's car, three of your others pals right behind you-- chatting, enjoying the warm summer rays and fresh air blowing past you as your friends rode around town in Matty's bright red Chevy convertable.
Nothing could go wrong, you thought-- you hadn't even considered the notion, not even as you heard tires screeching down the street Matty was just driving by-- not even as you heard the police sirens blaring,
"It's probably a speeder," You heard Lorraine say behind you, and you turned to respond, assuming she was talking to you. She was, in fact, addressing Marnie and not you-- but ever the nosy nancy, you asked "What're you talking about?"
Lorraine looked at you, and shrugged. She gestured to Marnie, who'd taken off her cateye-framed glasses and cleaned them on her nice silk blouse. It'd been a nervous habit of hers ever since you met her, way back in the 5th grade on the first day of school.
"Marnie here's being a worry wart 'bout that screeching." You looked at Lorraine again, then to Marnie, who eyed the side streets wearily. "I'm just saying, it sounds awfully close and awfully unpredictable-- it sounds like they're looping through all the streets. Who knows when they'll merge onto main--"
Rudy playfully shoved Marnie, pushing her into Lorraine on accident. He gave an apologetic smile before saying in a softer tone, one you didn't hear very often from the class clown-- "Oh c'mon Marns! Don't be such a party pooper! it's probably Dick takin' a joyride in his dads new BMW. He said he was gonna take it for a spin soon."
This time, worry began to settle in your chest. "I thought Dick didn't have a drivers license?" and Lorraine's brows furrowed and she replied "He doesn't."
Rudy tugged at the color of his polo shirt, looking to the side nervously as he leaned back "Hey! It might not be him, who knows! Just a guess, no need to take it as gospel."
For a few seconds, the conversation dropped. The only thing you bunch could hear was the wind whistling by, Matty's radio playing Everyday by Buddy Holly, birds chirping, the police sirens wailing and the shrieking of someones tired.
"What's everyone talking about?" Matty asked, and Lorraine said "Just talking about all that noise." And Matty gave his signature smile, his bright laugh following shortly behind. You could see why girls threw themselves at him like nobody's business-- he does have a certain charm, you found yourself thinking.
The perfect golden boy-- your group often called him "boy scout supreme" on account of how painfully good natured he was. "clark kent" was a close second for the most used nickname regarding his behavior.
He was not superman, though, as you'd come to learn. He wasn't invincible, because as he opened his mouth to reply-- try to soothe everyone's gringles, especially Marnie...
"It sounds really close," You said, pushing yourself up using the armrests and leaning forward to peek past Matty and--
Sure enough, it was a fancy blue and white BMW that you saw. Dick at the drivers wheel, seeming to have shaken the cop that was trailing after him. He was heading right for you bunch, and just as you opened your mouth to scream-- to tell at Matty to swerve, about ready to reach forward yourself and grab the steering wheel--
The two vehicles collided, sending the both of them through the safety railings and tumbling down. The five of you had nothing to protect you from the brunt of it all-- you were lucky enough to be in the passanger seat, and quick thinking led you to hiding under the footwell. You were lucky enough to cram yourself in before the car really started rolling.
You aren't sure how long it took the car to stop rolling. The forest off the side of main's hill were pretty damn steep, the steepest point of them was where you'd been passing by before Dick came speeding your guys' way.
When it stopped, you stayed inside the footwell for a while longer. Your head was pounding like hell, and you grimaced as the sticky blood gushed from a wound somewhere on her forehead-- you're pretty sure there was another gash on the back of your head, contributing to the awful headache.
When you heard a door open, you felt hope. Hope that your friends had survived, despite having no real protection.
You lot were lucky enough to land the right-side up, not trapped underneath like those Soap Opera's your gran liked to watch all the time. You were careful to be slow, to be methodical with your movements as you set to wrangling yourself from your hidey-hole in the footwell.
Footsteps, footsteps on the underbrush-- they sounded pretty steady for someone who's been in a crash like you'd been in, so that lending you the idea that it was Matty. Always calm and collected-- Rudy would probably be screaming his head off by now, Marnie crying as Lorraine comforted the girl.
You hope to whatever God is willing to listen that they're just unconscious.
The footsteps were walking away-- you wanted to cry out, stop! stop, i'm still here! but you knew Matty couldn't of been leaving you. His first instinct, for better or for worse, to go seek help no matter what. You were only halfway-through pushing yourself from the footwell, it was bent in and damaged from the rolling. It was harder to get out of than it was to get in, for more then one reason.
When you'd finally managed to pull yourself free, and stand, you stumbled, woozy. Vision blurred, and mouth desert-dry.
"Matty?" You called out, voice barely above a hoarse whisper. You turned to your side-- you'd slammed against a big oak tree. That's fine. You'd get out from behind,
You would've screamed if you could've. As you took in Lorraine-- god, was that even Lorraine? Her face was so mangled, blood coating the slashes where her eyes, nose, and mouth would've been-- clinging to it, making it impossible to tell anything.
You reached forward. She gave no reaction. You looked to her side-- Marnie... that had to have been Marnie, was no better off. Her glasses gone, her head twisted to an unnatural angle-- a broken neck.
Rudy wasn't even there, and that gave you hope. Hope that was quickly dashed as you saw his body lying lifeless about 20 feet up the hill. He never was good on wearing his seatbelt, not like the rest of you were.
Okay. That's- you... you can just get out Matty's side! That'd be easy, since he was the one who got up--
This time, this time you were able to scream. It wasn't very loud, more of a yelp with how much your throat hurt. Matty's... Matty's head wasn't there. It was gone. It was jus--
Oh... oh no, you'd leaned over to try and look for his head, where it could've gone in the underbrush. Only to have it brush against your leg, still attached to his neck by way of a thin strand of sinew.
You fought to keep down whatever was still in your stomach. You failed miserably.
Once you were finished upchucking, you came to a realization.
You looked to the fancy BMW, it'd landed upright too. It's got a roof, no matter how damaged the thing was. The door was open, and there was no trace of Dick.
The bastard's just gonna walk away you realized, rage fueling you as you hauled yourself over the body of your friend-- you said a quick apology to Matty, though he couldn't very well hear it. You wobbled out the car, and then looked to Rudy's body.
Dick was going to get away with it, you knew he was. His dad was a wealthy oil tycoon and his mother was an heiress to a popular beauty brand her ma ran. You and your friends were nobodies compared to them, simple, regular people. Not rich, not like Dick was.
You stumbled to Rudy's body, swallowing your next bout of upchuck as you kneeled by his body. You said a quick apology, before rummaging in his pockets.
Soon enough, you found what you were looking for. A switchblade, one Rudy liked to use for tricks to impress gals and spook Marnie, who insisted he was gonna cut himself on it one of these days.
When you stood, your vision blacked out and you had to lean against a tree before regaining it. Judging by the state of you, you weren't going to last very long either. You could either try and scale the hill to go get help,
Or trail after Dick, make sure he didn't get away with this like he surely would without your say. You'd already had your mind made when you'd fished Rudy's switchblade from the pocket of his torn, bloody chinos.
You had a good idea where Dick had gone off to, low-hanging branches broken, a path through the fallen leaves and underbrush caused by dragging feet.
Despite your injuries-- the adrenaline surely running through your system definitely helping you in your mission-- you managed to catch up with the boy. He was a lot better off than any of your friends, obviously-- and yourself. All things considered, he looked like he'd gotten into a parking lot fight more than a car crash that killed all four of your friends right away (god, you hope it was right away. you hope they didn't suffer),
But you want Dick to suffer. You want his suffering to amount to what he may have caused your friends in their end.
His back was still turned as you approached him. You know you weren't being quiet, no matter how hard you try; either his hearing was damaged or he didn't deem the noise important enough to turn around.
When you grabbed his shoulder, he become very aware of you. He became even more aware of you when you jabbed the switchblade in his shoulder. There was a tussle-- he was in much better condition than you, but in the end you won out. Your rage refusing to let you stay down, to let him get away with this.
You don't remember what you said, the words tumbling out of your mouth as you climbed on top of him. You stabbed him, all non-fatal unless you left him to bleed out.
You felt yourself begin to slip, as if your life was falling through the cracks in your fingers as if it was a tangible thing. Growing lethargic, numb to the pain and tired. You couldn't go on. You wanted to draw it out more, but...
If you left him, there was still a chance someone could find him before he succumbed to blood loss or whatever brain trauma he may have endured (like you had).
You remember what you said last, even if your consciousness was slipping. You'd never forget what you said at you drove Rudy's beloved switchblade into the scums forehead, you said it as loud as you could, but it wasn't much. Hoarsely, you call out,
"I'll see you in hell."
You don't remember how long you lasted after Dick stopped moving. You pulled the switch blade from his head, and with what energy you left you headed back to the crash. You wanted to give Rudy his knife back. It was the least you could do for your friend,
But you didn't make it. At least, you don't think you made it to him. It's uncertain-- everything got so blurry at the end. You don't remember collapsing, one moment you’re shambling towards the hill; Rudy's corpse in sight, quickly cooling and sure to become a snack for some wildlife (just as you all were, probably),
and the next, you were in a field on stinging nettle, luckily having fallen in one of the various patches devoid of the plant. Your mouth felt crowded like never before, yours hands were clawed, and you took that time to just sit. To look around, and realize where exactly you were.
In hell. You were... definitely in hell, like you'd expected. You glanced around, expecting Dick to fall down-- but he died before you. probably walked away by now, if hell-time was like earth-time, you were unsure; you just knew that Dick wasn't here right now-- or maybe he'd dropped somewhere else. You aren't sure how this works.
After all, you just got here. Just an hour or so ago, you'd been thinking about what you'd wear to the first day of school. Now that was the last thing on your mind.
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