#i need to be somewhere that wants me to try i need it so so so bad

[starkeysbabygirl]

⋆˚࿔ make you feel 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

𝜗𝜚 bsfbro!rafe x virgin!reader

𝜗𝜚 you have filthy thoughts about your best friends brotherX what happens when you can’t help yourself one night and get caught?

𝜗𝜚 18+ MDNI! unprotected piv sex, virgin!reader, virginity loss, blood mentioned, possessive!rafe, praise, dirty talk, daddy kink, hint at female masturbation

𝜗𝜚 idk how i feel about this one but i finished it and might as well share it, if there are any grammar errors or anything else i’m sorry i tried my best didn’t exactly edit🫣😂

sarah was your best friend ever since you could remember. moving away a couple years ago was probably one of the worst things that could have happened but the two of you promised to always see each other no matter what, every summer, so here you were staying with the cameron’s for the next few months. the cameron’s always welcomed you with open arms. the only one who seemed to have a problem was sarah’s older brother, rafe fucking cameron.

rafe cameron made your high school years a living hell. he scared off any boy who even thought about you in any way which is why you were still a virgin still, even at the age of twenty three, you were never able to get a boyfriend. you blew it off as rafe doing what your brother cade would have done if he were still around. rafe and cade were best friends but cade left a few years ago for college, a few states away. little did you know, it had nothing to do with cade and all to do with rafe and his bottled up feelings he never got over.

although rafe had always been beyond infuriating you couldn’t deny he was very nice on the eyes. he was one of the best looking guys on this island. this time around, you couldn’t stop thinking about him and it just kept getting worse and worse the more rafe came into contact with you.

you couldn’t help yourself as thoughts of rafe began to cloud your mind with all the ways you would want him to take you and have his way with you. your hands were down your sleep shorts before you could stop yourself. you’ve done this countless times before but never with filthy thoughts of rafe.

you were already wet when you start circling your clit, a low moan escaping your lips. you were lost in the moment when all of a sudden the door slowly creaks open and you quickly slip your hand out of your shorts trying to wipe any evidence off of your hands. you look towards the door surprised to see your best friends brother.

“rafe!? what the hell?”

“whoa y/n relax! stop looking so guilty. you fucking hiding some guy in here or somethin’?” he laughs but suddenly looks concerned as if you did have a man hiding somewhere in this room.

“no, i don’t know what you’re talking about rafe. of course not. get out.”

“what were you doing then y/n? hmmm?” rafe gets closer to the bed and sniffs the air making you nervous just watching him. you start to wonder how the hell he would know what you were up to just by smelling the air, it wasn’t possible.

“nothing, and it’d be none of your business if i was seeing anyone anyways.”

rafe grabs your wrist and brings your hand to his nose and inhales. a smirk forms on his face. “tsk tsk, naughty girl. nothing, huh?” he chuckles and shakes his head.

“what are you doing?! rafe what the fuck who does that?!” you whisper yell as you yank your hand away from him. “go back to your room, what are you even doing coming in here without knocking? sarah could have seen you or wheezie!”

“if you needed help going to sleep you could have just told me princess.” his hand grazes your cheek and you immediately blush, all megative thoughts out the window. rafe crawls on top of you making you lose all brain function. he slides his hands down the covers and toys with the bottom of your shorts. the tension in the air thick as it could ever be.

“r-rafe…fuck it, oh my god. touch me.” you beg, so desperate for his touch and more. it takes rafe no time pulling your shorts and panties down your legs and throws them on the floor. he makes his way down, giving a light tap to your legs.

“spread those legs, let me see.” rafe demands and you obey, spreading your legs putting your pussy on display. “fuuuuck y/n, this pussy is perfect, so fucking pretty and made for me.” rafe groans.

the dirty words coming from rafe’s mouth make your pussy throb with need. you knew you might regret it later but you didn’t care because in this moment you knew you were about to lose your virginity to rafe cameron.

“fuck me rafe, fuck me please? please i want you.” you spread your legs even more inviting rafe to have his way with you.

“you have no idea what this means y/n. once i fuck you, you’re mine. you understand?” he says with a stern voice. his breath hot in your ear. you nod. rafe pulls off his shirt in one swift move then starts to unbuckle to his belt and slides it off.

“words baby.”

“i understand rafe. i just…i need you, so horny i need to cum right now.” you whimper. rafe slides down to the foot of the bed and gets up. he pulls you down with him, turning you around so that you are bent over, chest on the bed and feet on the ground. he wraps his belt around your wrist tying your hands together behind your back.

“you gonna be a good girl for daddy? i’ll make your first time worth it princess don’t you worry. you might cry but i’ll lick your tears away for you.” rafe pulls his pants and boxers off, his hard cock springing out and leaking precum onto the ground. you try to look behind you seeing his hard length throbbing with the need to release. you were completely in shock at his size but also intrigued.

“yes daddy, m’going to be your good girl, and only yours.” you moan. rafe bends down a little to line up his cock to your pussy and rubs his tip up and down your soaking wet slit and eases his way in carefully. “ooooh f-fuuuuuck! ahhhh rafe! oh my god.” you cry out, his big cock slowly stretching you out causing you pain at first then pleasure.

“that’s my girl. you’re doing so well f’me my pretty girl. fuck this pussy feels s’good, squeezing my cock so fucking tight.” rafe grunts as he starts to pick up his pace. he grabs your waist and rams in and out of your cunt.

“ahh! shiiiit, feels s’good daddy, you’re going to make me cum, just like that! please, harder!” you scream. rafe shoves your face into the bed with one hand and slaps your ass with the other. his thrusts start to get fast and sloppy.

“you gonna cum with me princess? m’not going to last any longer, your pussy is too fucking tight, going to blow my load inside of you.” rafe’s low groans fill the room along with your muffled screams. just as rafe could feel his balls start to tighten he lifts your head from the bed and pulls it back at a weird angle so you were looking into his eyes.

“m’gonna cum rafe, i can’t hold it anymore, i’m cumming!” you scream.

“i’m right there with your princess! oh shit, fuck i’m fucking cumming god damn!” rafe grunts and pushes you into the bed as he falls onto you as his cock pulses, shooting rope after rope of cum deep inside your pussy and filling you up to the brim. he slowly pulls out and the mix of blood, your juices and his cum make a mess on the floor. you lift your head and he swiftly unties your wrists.

“wow that was…um, well..just how i imagined it would be with you, rafe cameron.” you chuckle and rafe has a cocky smirk on his face.

“yeah? well, don’t forget what i said earlier baby, you’re mine now and this was just the beginning.” rafe reminds you.

he grabs a towel from the bathroom and cleans you then himself up before cleaning the evidence on the floor. after everything gets cleaned up rafe puts his clothes back on then watches as you dress.

“i’d be yours anyday. who would have thought?” you murmur and yawn starting to feel the exhaustion set in.

“you were always going to be mine y/n. you just didn’t know it, but i did. i always knew.” rafe steps towards you and grips you by the chin, lifting your head up so you were staring into his eyes. he leans down and kisses you. you slightly pull back.

“good night rafe.” then you kiss him back and walk towards the door about to open it for him figuring he would want to head back to his own room.

“whoa. hold it. i’m not going anywhere princess, i’m staying right here with you now lets get into bed.” he grabs your hand and walks you back to your bed.

tagging a few moots: @cameronsprincess @rafesthroatbaby @rafesheaven @cameronwillow

[liondrakes]

Absolutely. Speaking as a writer, I could tell from jump that there’s no satisfaction in using gen-AI. Even if someone took out all moral disputes regarding the technology, I’d still have no incentive to use it.

This technology doesn’t know what I know on a personal level. It doesn’t know my style. It doesn’t know the themes or angles I want to tackle. Even if I gave it this information, it’d be a derivative of what I actually want to convey.

Why would I waste my time using it for my work?

There is nothing satisfying about asking a bot to “write” what I’m thinking of and watching said bot spit back “content” that it scraped from somewhere else. If I wanted a story that was loosely stitched together, I’d sift through my old WIPs from high school or undergrad, pick out what I liked, and stitch something together myself.

It will never have the satisfaction of writing out the ideas circulating in my head, knocking out the ones I’m not too into and making outlines for the idea that wins me over.

It will never have the satisfaction of the drafting process— the moment you finally get to write, to go through the trial and error of how you want to present your work. It’s hard. It’s time-consuming. It’s humbling, but it’s rewarding all the same.

It will never have the satisfaction of sharing what you’re working on with other people. It’s certainly nerve-wracking if you’re looking to publish, but I’m talking about friends, mutuals on social media, other writers in Discord servers and forums, et cetera. It doesn’t even need to be completed. Exchange drafts with people. Organize the notes you’ve taken on your characters, and share them as OCs (because that’s basically what they are).

I get none of that from gen-AI.

You know what I get? Empty words from a generated response.

I’m impartial to that. It’s technology at the end of the day. It’s programmed to do this. Yet, it’s still one of many reasons why I’ll never touch it as a writer. Empty ideas, empty criticisms and empty feedback in general get me nowhere. It doesn’t motivate me to write, and it damn sure doesn’t help me improve what I’m writing.

Furthermore, sharing that you told a bot to “create” something holds no weight. Anybody can do that, and I find it funny when this sentiment is used to defend gen-AI. The bot scrapes together anything it can muster to give you results. It does the same for anyone else who uses it, thus you have nothing of interest to show.

Not only would using gen-AI deprive me of what makes the creative process so worthwhile, it also keeps me in a cycle of monotony. Writing stops being a creative practice. It becomes boredom.

Tech companies pitched a vacuum of button-pressing and sold it to people under the guise of efficiency. Meanwhile, their idea of efficiency guts the entire experience.

If someone told me as a teen that if I love writing, and that I should give ChatGPT a try, I likely wouldn’t care for their suggestion.

Think of it this way: if someone recommended you a video game, and also recommended you to look at a bunch of walkthroughs and shortcuts while playing it, would you?

It’d defeat the purpose of playing the game, right? You don’t get the full experience that way.

Why scrape the arts and miss everything when you alone hold the key to that experience?

As gen-AI becomes more normalized (Chappell Roan encouraging it, grifters on the rise, young artists using it), I wanna express how I will never turn to it because it fundamentally bores me to my core. There is no reason for me to want to use gen-AI because I will never want to give up my autonomy in creating art. I never want to become reliant on an inhuman object for expression, least of all if that object is created and controlled by tech companies. I draw not because I want a drawing but because I love the process of drawing. So even in a future where everyone’s accepted it, I’m never gonna sway on this.

[giddyfatherchris]

📝 skz reaction - you fall asleep on their laps

pairing. ot8!skz x gn!reader (individually)

type. fluff fluff fluffff

warnings. gender neutral reader, curse words (thats how i show my enthusiasm okay)

a/n. as someone who falls asleep anywhere and loves to sleep with people around me, i need to have a nap on each of them thank you.

a/n 2. yes the members order is reversed… thats just how inspiration struck and i couldn’t be bothered to change it SUE ME🫥

(pictures are not mine. credit to the owner!)

(divider credit!)

jeongin ⊹ ࣪ ˖ he would maybe be a lil annoyed at first thinking you're not moving because you want to annoy him. until he realizes that no no you're just extenuated and literally fell asleep on him which would suprise him sooo much. poor baby wouldn't know what to do with himself. he probably woudn't dare to move and would be tensed as all hell. although, slowly, he'd relax and grow into it. once he gets over his fear of waking you up he'd be so so smitten with you, cooing at how adorable you are, to the point where that actually woke you up

seungmin ⊹ ࣪ ˖ he would def be annoyed, going as far as trying to make you move away or scold you to go to bed. it's not that he doesn't like it, but he's uncomfortable and can’t understand why you’d want to cuddle him. once he asked why you didn't sleep somewhere else and you explained there was something about him that made you feel safe and at peace, that annoyance and awkwardness *poof* disappeared. he would let you sleep with your head comfortably laying on his lap while he practices a few songs and hums you to sleep aka best thing EVER. once you're fast asleep he would ask for someone to bring you a blanket and proceed to give a death stare to anyone who might make too much noise (euhm euhm binnie).

felix ⊹ ࣪ ˖ when you pouted and asked him to sleep on his lap he didn't even think before answering yes. being very comfortable with physical touch, our lil aussie boy would not mind at all. except he would not be prepared for how ADORABLE you look when you sleep. he would definitely take a thousand pictures of you (which he keeps in a special album in his phone). he would love to play in your hair or lightly massage your shoulders. and after that first time, whenever he sees you yawn a little too much he'd motion for you to lay on his lap. he is not ashamed to say one of his favorite thing to do is gaming while you're dozing off on his lap.

han ⊹ ࣪ ˖ first time it happened he was soooo scared to wake you up and wouldn't move at all. but that stopped very quick lmao, he would love when you fall asleep on him, even though he's not the best for it because he keeps moving and wiggling around. loves loves loves skinship, so he would constantly play with your hair, your clothes or poke your cheeks while you're trying to fall asleep. the only way to make this really work for both of you would be for him to watch his favorites animes while you're sleeping with your head on his shoulder.

hyunjin ⊹ ࣪ ˖ he says he's not a fan of physical touch, but that does not apply to the ppl he's close with. including you. when you fall alseep on his lap he's an absolute cuddle master. he would put his sweater on you when you shiver and coo whenever you make a little grumbling noise. he'd love to draw little sketches of you while you're asleep or take pictures, which most likely wake you up and make you move away and makes him whine like a baby. he's honestly kind of annoying to fall asleep on, but whenever you'd move away he would for sure bring you back on his lap with a promise to stop bothering you this time.

changbin ⊹ ࣪ ˖ despite the fact that he has the attention span of a squirrel and that he's one loud motherfucker, whenever you fall alseep on his lap he turns into a statue. this man will not move or say a thing. he'd love how innocent and relaxed you look when you're sleeping and would be ready to annihilate anyone who may interupt that. the boys would definitely try to taunt him with food to get him to move but he'd categorically refuse to bother your peaceful naps. when they inevitably bring that fact to your attention he'd become all shy and he mumble about how it's not his fault you look so precious when you sleep.

minho ⊹ ࣪ ˖ mister minho would act annoyed for half a second before he pulls you closer and play mindlessly with strands of your hair. there is legit no space between the two of you and that's how he likes it okay >:( he would give dirty looks to the boys whenever they tried taunting him about how soft he is with you. most of the time he falls alseep too, his hands resting on your hips while the boys take pictures of the pair of you. when they show them to you guys afterwards he says nothing but has a small shy smile and you can bet your ass he will have one of those pictures as his background.

bangchan ⊹ ࣪ ˖ he would fucking love when you fall asleep on his lap. it's no secret channie is one caring little fucker and he loves to care for/protect the people he loves. the first time you would settle your head on his lap to relax he'd try to play it cool as if it was no big deal, but when he'd realize you actually fell asleep his heart would be seconds away from fricking exploding. you'd look so cute and cozy and keep wiggling to be closer to him. it would definitly make his lil soft heart flutter and he would make funny faces, incapable of containing the effect you have on him (which the boys love to make fun of him for). after the first time, he'd declare himself your official nap spot and it would not be negotiable or else he’d pout and whine until you finally come to him.

[multific]

The Crown’s Weight

Lucius Verus x Reader

Summary: Your marriage was for politics. But he couldn't ignore your presence, especially your kindness.

The Emperor's chambers were filled with ornate details that spoke of duty and power. 

At first, that’s all your marriage to Lucius had been, a strategic arrangement, nothing more. 

Yet, over time, the lines of duty began to blur.

Lucius carried the Empire with unwavering strength, much like how he won in the Gladiator games, but you began to notice something else underneath his facade. 

At first, your moments together were brief, a quiet exchange during a meal or a passing glance. He barely looked at you. 

Slowly, something deeper began to form. Something, you didn't notice at first.

One evening, you found him on the balcony, the moonlight glowing on his handsome face. 

You hesitated before stepping closer.

“Can’t sleep?” you asked, your voice hesitant.

His head turned slightly, and he gave a small nod. 

“Not tonight. The weight of the Empire doesn’t lift at night.”

“It’s a heavy burden to carry alone.”

His gaze lingered on you, a flicker of something unspoken in his eyes. 

For the first time, you reached out and touched his arm, a simple gesture that seemed to break through the walls he built around him.

“Thank you,” he murmured, the words quiet but genuine.

From that moment, the nature of your relationship shifted. 

Another time, you had found him alone in the library, the strain of his duties evident in his posture. 

You placed a cup of tea beside him, and his fingers brushed yours.

"Thank you," he would say. No other words were exchanged that day.

Another time, you walked through the gardens together.

A simple walk, which he invited you on.

“Which flower do you like best?” he asked suddenly, his voice softer than usual but not unnatural.

“That one.” you pointed at the lilies. "I like their colour." 

The next day, you found a vase with the same flower on your desk. He didn’t leave a note, but he didn’t need to, you it was Lucius who sent them.

These small moments developed into something deeper, even if neither of you had said the words. 

But the Empire often found its way between you, sparking tension.

After one particularly heated argument about a decision for the provinces, you paced your chambers, your frustration palpable. 

Lucius entered, his expression was wild.

“I’m trying to protect the future of this Empire!” he snapped but didn't yell.

“And I’m trying to protect you!” you shot back. “You can’t do this alone, Lucius. You don’t have to.”

The silence that followed felt like an eternity. Then, his features softened, and he stepped closer.

“This marriage was supposed to be for the Empire,” he said, his voice quieter now. “But somewhere along the way, it became something more.”

“What do you mean?” Your heart raced as you processed his words. 

“I mean,” he said, his hands gently cupping your face, “I love you. Not just as my Empress, but as the one person who truly knows me. The real me.”

“I love you too, Lucius. It is why I worry so much." you admitted and it felt so good to say those words aloud. Because you did love him.

He pulled you closer, his hand resting on your hip as the other held your face.

The kiss he gave you was tender yet full of emotion, a promise that you weren’t just a partner in duty but in love.

When he finally pulled away, he didn't move back and looked into your eyes. 

“Whatever comes, we’ll face it together.”

“Together,” you echoed his words. "I have to ask you to share your worries with me. It is too much burden for you to carry. I understand you are... strong, but I'm your wife. I want to help."

"I will if you promise we will share sleeping chambers from now. We are no longer how we were when we met. I wish to sleep with my wife."

"I thought you would never ask." you smiled at this.

You always loved his strong he was. You used to watch him fight, his body was impressive. Little did you know that his mind was also like that.

But here he was now, an Emperor.

Gladiator II Collection

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief  

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen��@brevlada24

@mel-vaz @akamitrani @ange-olras @nicholaschavezslut69

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[mikuluvu]

TACTICAL DISTRACTION

Summary: Task Force 141 goes undercover at a nightclub for a mission. You wore a bold, eye-catching "Euphoria"-style outfit to distract a VIP guard, allowing the team to infiltrate undetected.

A/n: 2/10 COD fics posted! And yes, I did put some designs here and there lmao. Requests are open for COD/Tf141

The loud music vibrated through the crowded nightclub, neon lights flickering around the club. Task Force 141 was scattered across the room, each blending into the crowd while keeping their eyes on the mission. They all sported casual outfits to stay low-profile—Soap in a bomber jacket and jeans, Gaz in a leather jacket, Price looking like an unassuming older patron in a dark button-up, and Ghost opting for a simple black hoodie. But you? Oh, you stood out like a beacon, wrapped in an outfit that screamed Euphoria—sparkles, mesh, and barely-there fabric that had them all questioning the mission.

Soap leaned closer to Ghost, trying to be heard over the music. “She’s really leanin’ into it, yeh?” he said with a chuckle, gesturing to you as you sauntered toward the VIP area.

Ghost’s eyes, partially obscured by his hood, followed your path.“Bloody ‘ell, she’s got the lad starin’ like he’s never seen a woman before,” he muttered, lips twitching like he wanted to smirk but wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction.

Price’s voice crackled in their earpieces. “Stay focused, lads. We’ve got a job to do.”

Meanwhile, you approached the guard stationed outside the VIP room. The man barely registered you at first, but as soon as you flashed a sly smile and toyed with a strand of your hair, he stiffened.

“Hey there,” you purred, leaning closer. The guard blinked, clearly trying to keep his composure but failing miserably as his eyes darted over your outfit.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he stammered.

“Really?” you teased, brushing your fingers lightly along his arm. “I thought this was where all the fun people went.” Your tone dripped with playful mischief, and you stepped even closer, making sure his eyes were only on you.

In the comms, Soap snorted. ““She’s bloody good at this. Poor lad’s practically droolin’.”

Gaz’s voice chimed in. “She’s making it look way too easy. Remind me not to owe her a favor.”

While you kept the guard distracted with flirty banter, Price and Ghost slipped behind him unnoticed, disappearing into the VIP room. You caught the faintest glimpse of Ghost’s nod before turning your attention back to the guard.

“So,” you said, leaning on the counter beside him, “what’s a guy like you doing in a place like this? You don’t look like you’re here for the party.”

He chuckled nervously, completely oblivious to what was happening behind him. “I’m... working.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” You tilted your head, pouting slightly. “You deserve to have some fun. Maybe…with me?”

Price’s voice crackled in your earpiece. “Good work, love. We’re in.”

You smiled sweetly at the guard, then straightened up. “Actually, I just remembered—I’ve got somewhere else to be.” Before he could respond, you turned on your heel and walked away, leaving him utterly confused and flustered.

As you rejoined the team near the club's exit, Soap greeted you with a wide grin. “Ye’ve got a dangerous talent, love. That was somethin’ else,”

You smirked, tossing your hair over your shoulder. “What can I say? I’m a professional.”

Ghost’s low voice cut through the banter. “Next time, let one o’ us handle the target, aye? You’re gonna put the lot of us in an early grave.”

You laughed, shooting him a teasing look. “What? Jealous, Simon?”

He didn’t respond, but the slight tilt of his head told you everything you needed to know.

Gaz came up next, leaning casually on the wall beside you. “You know,” he said, his voice smooth, “if you ever decide this whole Task Force thing isn’t for you, you’ve got a bright future in acting. Or breaking hearts.” He gestured to the VIP entrance. “That poor guy’s probably still trying to figure out what just happened.”

You smirked, crossing your arms. “He'll be fine...”

Price chuckled from behind his cigar, his tone playful but warm. “I don’t know if I should be impressed or worried. You might’ve set the bar a little too high for the rest of us, love.”

“Oh, don’t be jealous, Captain,” you teased, tilting your head at him. “I’m sure you’d be great at flirting your way past security.”

That got a laugh from the group, even Ghost, who stood a little apart but was still listening.

“Flirting’s not exactly my specialty,” Ghost finally said, his voice low and dry. “But if I did, it wouldn’t involve wearin’… that.” His gaze flicked over your outfit, lingering just a second too long.

“Aw, you don’t like it?” you said, feigning a pout. “I thought it was pretty effective.”

Soap interjected before Ghost could reply, grinning wickedly. “Oh, don’t mind him, bonnie. He’s just a wee bit shy.” He pulled you closer, his hand lingering a little longer than necessary. “Though if you’re takin’ votes, I’d say the outfit’s a bloody masterpiece.”

Gaz raised a hand. “Seconded. Might need to keep it on standby for future missions. You know, for ‘tactical purposes.’”

You rolled your eyes, shaking off Soap’s arm but laughing as the group continued to rib you. “You’re all acting like you weren’t ogling me from the second I walked out in this.”

Price raised an eyebrow, an innocent look on his face. “Who, us? Neva'.”

Soap leaned in, resting his chin on your shoulder. "I mean, ye can’t blame us, lass. Ye’ve got a certain… presence about ye". His voice dropped to a mock-whisper. “Dangerously distractin’, really. Almost too good at yer job”

Gaz smirked, nudging Soap out of the way to stand closer to you. “Ignore him. If anyone’s got the charm to keep up with you, it’s me.”

You laughed, hands on your hips as you looked between the group. “You’re all hopeless, you know that?”

A/n: WKWKKW IM HAVING TROUBLE DOING SOAP'S ACCENT

Buy me a coffee?

[aandvarchaeology]

You can read a bit more about this amazing axe head here! It's worth noting that it was bought on the art market and thus comes without any context. But judging by the silver, it was definitely dug up from somewhere.

(Btw, the British Museum has an earlier example of a silver inlaid axe here!)

If you want to know why the silver tells me that this axe head was found in the ground and read some nerdery about iron restoration you can find it below!

This is a detail of the blade taken from the second picture. The rust spots and holes are easy to see, as is the pitting around the silverwork. There are a few explanations for that, but the two most important ones are that since silver is far softer than steel (pure silver being at 2.5-3 on the Mohs scale, while steel is at 4-4.5) it wasn't possible to mechanically restore the surface without damaging the silver.

And you may have noticed that the silver doesn't look particularly silver-y. That's because this axe head spent at least some time in the ground where the silver reacted with chloride ions to so called "horn silver" chlorargyrite! Chlorargyrite is softer than normal silver (1-2 on the Mohs scale) and corrossive to lesser metals like iron, making it even harder to preserve in restoration and at the same time contributing to the stronger pitting around the silver inlay.

In addition to the rust and pitting, we also see spots on the blade, that are light grey. These are even more egregious along the top edge, especially near the socket:

These are spots were the old surface was accidentally removed during restoration (can happen very quickly with some artefacts and it's bloody annoying) showing the bare iron/steel. I would assume that they started restoration from the top edge (where the damage is worst) and knew to be a little more careful by the time they reached the blade.

I will have to check with my colleague next week, but I think the straight lines on the blade (marked in green) combined with the extremely flat surface and the sharp edges of the rust pits (marked in red) show that the rust on the blade was removed with a micromotor grinding tool.

While this is useful, especially for particularly hard bits of corrossion, one should stop a few milimetres above the suspected original surface to avoid what happened here: After using the micromotor, the rest of the corrossion needs to be removed with a micro sandblasting unit, but since there was little to no corrossion left after grinding, the sand went too deep and removed the old surface as well in many places.

In conclusion: This axe head is a lovely case study on archaeological conservation as well as being very pretty. I will try to remember to report back next week with any additions my colleague may have and if you have any more questions about archaeological iron restoration or this piece in particular, feel free to hit me up!

~Mod A

Steel and silver axe head, Scandinavian, 11th-12th Century

From the Met Museum

[foolishangelic]

✸ you need rafes help when you can´t fall asleep.

It was late at night, and you couldn´t sleep whatsoever. You kept tossing and turning all night, trying to find a comfortable position, but it was useless. Every side of your pillow was warm, so was your whole bed.

You finally gave up, and decided to call your boyfriend, rafe. Maybe he could find some way to 'help' you fall asleep. You grabed your phone, clicked on his contact and called him. "Hello?" his silent voice called out "Hey, wanna come over?" you asked, getting straight to the point.

He chuckled "Yeah. uhh, i´ll be there soon." you let out a sigh of relief as he hung up the call.

A few minutes later you heard your window opening, you stood up and watched him walk inside, and shut it behind him with a small thud "You should really lock your windows at night," he said with a sigh "don´t want anyone to come in or anyth─" before he could finish his sentence, you had crashed your lips into his.

He kissed you back hungrily, his tongue brushing past your bottom lip, exploring your mouth. He let out a soft hum and pulled away for a brief moment "You´re needy." he chuckled breathlessly, you smiled, then he leaned in and captured your lips together again.

His lips pulled away, trailing down your neck. His breath hot against your skin, as he kissed and nipped below your pulse point. His hands roamed over your body, as if he was trying to map out every inch of you.

He began backing you towards your bed, carefully laying you down, as he moved to crawl ontop of you, hovering over you. His hand reached over and pulled down your shorts, he then moved his hands inside your panties. His finger sliding over your dripping wet folds.

You threw your head back in pleasure and let out a soft moan "You´re soaked." he smirked "All this just from me kissing you, huh?" his fingers continued working over your folds and your clit.

He slides his index finger inside of you, pumping slowly in and out of ,his pace slow and torturous. He curled his finger, causing you to whine. "Please." you mumbled, your voice almost a whimper. He smirked, seeming to enjoy your desperate reaction as he continued to move his finger slowly inside you. "Please what?" he said with a smirk, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

He took your panties off and removed his finger from inside of you. He took his shirt off, disgarding it somewhere across the room. His bare chest had you drooling, the way his biceps flexed, and how beautiful his abs are. He looked like a greek god.

Then he pulled his sweatpants, and boxers down. His hard cock jutting out of his boxers, dripping with precum.

He smirked at the way your lips parted slightly at the sight "Ready for me?" you nodded frantically, excited for him to fuck you "Nu- uh.. use your words." he said as he hovered above you. His tip poking against your clit, causing a gasp to slip past your lips.

"I´m ready." you said breathlessly. He lined his cock to your entrance, then met your gaze, holding eye contact with you as his cock buried deep inside you, streching you out. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your mouth open in an O shape, as he began setting a sweet and slow pace.

The feeling of his cock fucking you slowly is the best thing you could ever imagine, and it felt so so good. He loved being buried deep inside you, thrusting in and out, as he heard your pretty moans.

Your nails digged into the skin of his back, dragging down leaving pretty red marks on him. His speed increased, and your moans got louder and louder, as he hit the sweet spot that made you feel dizzy in pleasure.

"Fuucckk.." he grunted, as one hand roamed over your body, and the other held on to your hip to keep you in place "You´re so tight." he muttered against your neck. His thrusts getting more sloppy and messy. You feel yourself clench around him.

Your stomach starts twisting up in knots, as your organsm gets closer and closer. You hold onto to rafes neck, trying to find something to anchor yourself as the pleasure took over "Rafe.." you said between pants "I´m- i´m gonna cum."

That made his thrusts speed up, and become more urgent "Gonna have my girl cum all over my cock." he looks down to where his cock is thrusting in and out of you with ease.

"oh my godd," you moaned as your organsm swept over you, your back arching against him, as your juices covered his cock, and you clenched around him, your eyes shutting in bliss, the euphoric feeling almost unbearable. His release slowly creeping up on him aswell.

He felt himself cum inside you, both of your juices now running down his cock, as he continued riding out his release with a long groan. He laid ontop of you, his face buried in your neck as you both breathed heavily.

"You´re so good.. so so good." he muttered against your skin. Your hand moved up and down his back in a nice soothing manner, as you both laid together, skin to skin.

A few minutes later, you felt his cock twitch inside of you, he then used his arms to hold himself up again. "You know your safe word, yeah?" he said, brushing a strand a hair away from your face "We´re not done?" you asked.

He didn´t answer. Instead he started thrusting into you once again.

[y3sterdaysproblem]

⤷𝙛𝙬𝙗!𝙘𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨 𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙗𝙗𝙡𝙚

 ⤷ 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 ; 𝘵𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘤!𝘧𝘸𝘣!𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘹 𝘵𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘤!𝘧𝘸𝘣!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

{texts above are relevant to story}

cw: alcohol consumption

“chris!” you exclaim excitedly as you see the familiar blacked out bmw pulling up on the curb, pulling yourself up from the stairs you sat at outside the house you somehow ended up at. you were under the impression you and your friend would just be at her house, but when you ended up at a party with a bunch of unfamiliar faces, you knew you had to get somewhere you knew to ride out your drunken state.

he’s not even out of the car when you’re running up to the car and to the passenger door, trying to pull it open but failing miserably. “hey, chill,” chris says to you as he circles around the car, pulling the door open for you. “how much have you had to drink?” he questions as he watches you flop into the seat, the whole car wobbling from the force.

“umm,” you drawl out, turning your head up to look at him, eyes unfocused and darting around. “i’m not sure! maybe… nine drinks?”

chris’s eyes widen in shock as he looks down at you, noticing how hard it was for you to lock eyes with him. “nine drinks?” he asks, desperate to clarify.

“maybe more,” you mumble with a small shrug. “can we get like… taco bell or something?”

chris sighs and shuts the door on you, coming back around to the driver’s side and getting in. once he’s settled, he turns back to look at you again, seeing the messed up hair on the top of your head and the way your clothes seemed a little disheveled. he wonders for a split second if your state was fully to do with alcohol, or if somebody had put something in your drink without you noticing.

“yeah, we can get food,” he says, but doesn’t make any effort to move. “did someone slip something in your drink?”

“what?” you say, slinging your head around to look at him with furrowed eyebrows. “think my drinks were just really strong.” you finally say when you process his words.

“okay,” chris nods, eyes scanning over your face to see if you were alright. “are you gonna throw up or anything?”

you laugh and wave a hand at him dismissively, shaking your head. “no!” you say, reaching forward to place your hand on his chest. “you know i’m not a bitch.”

chris laughs and grabs your hand, bringing it back over to your own lap. “didn’t say you were a bitch, just asking if you need a bag or something. don’t want you puking in my car.”

you narrow your eyes at him and turn your body in your seat, crossing your arms. “you called me a raging bitch the other day,” you huff, raising your eyebrows sassily.

he’s not having any of it, not wanting to play into your confrontational switch, so he turns his body back to the steering wheel and puts the car in drive, pulling away from the curb. “because you were being a raging bitch,” he says calmly, eyes scanning over the road as he sets out on the route back to his place.

“what, because I wasn’t with you?” you ask defensively, feeling heat starting to rise up your neck, getting worked up over something that wasn’t even a big deal. “am I supposed to ask you for permission every time I want to fuck somebody else?”

chris’s knuckles tighten on the steering wheel, jaw tensing at your words. he had to remind himself that you were only saying all of this because of the alcohol, but part of him wanted to fight back, wanted to put you in your place. “definitely not,” he responds lowly, eyes locked in front of him. “you really need to stop and think about what you’re going to say next.”

you scoff out a laugh and roll your eyes, turning back to sit straight in your seat, arms still crossed as you stare out through the windshield now as well, eyes still trying to focus on the road as it disappeared under the car. “still want food,” you mumble, lips pursed in a childlike pout. “you’ll get your food, just sit there and be quiet,” chris responds, reaching forward to turn the volume up to drown out anything you might say. you wanted to protest, but the heavy weight on your eyelids started to take over, and within the next minute you were asleep.

it felt like seconds had passed when the passenger door was being opened and chris was reaching down to touch your shoulder, shaking you lightly. “hey,” he said softly, trying to rouse you awake. “dude, get up,” he says louder, shaking you harder. you let out a groan as you come back to your senses, forcing your eyes open once again. “come on, let’s go inside so you can go to bed.”

you take another couple of moments to ground yourself and remember where you are, but you eventually swing your legs to your side and use every surrounding method of support to help you out of the car, feeling drunker than you did when you first got into it. “I feel awful,” you mumble once you’re standing in the driveway, reaching your hands up to rub over your face. chris just laughs and shuts the door before he wraps an arm around your waist and guides you up towards his apartment, his grip on you tight to keep you standing straight.

after stumbling up a couple flights of stairs and leaning on the wall while he unlocked the door, you both finally make it into his place and you immediately try kicking your shoes off, groaning when they don’t slip off with ease. chris chuckles at you again and crouches down to grab your foot to stop you, unlacing your shoes for you. “you’re a fucking mess,” he comments, straightening back up once both of your shoes were off, taking in your appearance.

your hair looked tangled from running your hands through it, and the way that it fell in front of your face made him realize you weren’t even aware of how messy it looked, your purse hadn’t even made it inside, left to spend the night in his car, and your makeup was smudged all around your eyes, already looking days old.

“you’re a mess,” you shoot back, bringing a hand up to poke him in the chest. “I am just… fucking…” you look down at yourself and groan, hands coming up to claw at your top. “get me out of this fucking corset.”

chris grabs your hands and pulls them away from your shirt, turning your body to guide you into his room. “alright, we’ll get you out of these clothes and you can pass out, yeah? sound good?”

you nod, more to yourself than anything as you walk into his room, immediately pushing away from him and going towards his bed, falling onto it face first. chris shuts the door behind him and comes to stand next to his bed, reaching down to rest a hand on the bare part of your back. “do you want to take your clothes off or sleep like this?” he asks, leaning down a bit so he could hear your muffled voice against his comforter, but between your slurring and your mouth buried in the blankets, he couldn’t make out your response, so he carefully rolls you over as to not jostle your stomach too much. “what’d you say?”

“off,” you repeat in a moan, laying limp on the bed with your head tilted to the side, eyes still closed.

“okay,” chris responds, his hands reaching out towards the button on your jeans. your head immediately pops up and looks down at his hands, then his face.

“woah, woah, woah!” you exclaim, reaching down with one hand to push his away frantically. “i’m drunk, chris!”

chris looks up at you with one eyebrow raised, moving to rest both hands on your thighs, your skin touching through the large rips in the fabric. “uh huh,” he nods, sliding his hands back up your hips. “which is why i’m taking your clothes off so you can go to bed,” he tells you in a slow, calm voice, like he’s explaining something to a little kid.

“oh,” you say in understanding, flopping back down onto the bed. “am I sleeping here?” you ask him as you feel his hands starting to undo your pants again.

“yeah,” he answers, pulling your jeans down and off of your legs, leaving you in your panties and a corset he can’t even begin to understand how to remove. “gotta keep an eye on you, make sure you don’t puke on your back or something.”

“ew,” you answer, eyes staring up at the ceiling, providing no help for chris as he undressed you. he reaches down and scoops his arms underneath you to pull you into a sitting position, to which you groan in disapproval. “wanna lay down.”

“I know, but I need to get this… fuckass shirt off of you first.” chris is clueless as he stares down at it, although he doesn’t mind the view too much. he sees what look like latches at the front of the shirt, and he can’t help but wonder why somebody would wear this to go out drinking unless they expected to sleep in it that night. “i’m about to just cut this shit off of you.” he huffs.

“no!” you whine, reaching out to grab his shirt while you tilt your head up to look at him, eyes pleading. “don’t cut my clothes pleeease,” you drawl, tugging on his shirt. “i’ll show you how to take it off, c’mon, you’ve taken my clothes off like a hundred times.”

he couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking his head in disbelief at your words, but then he agrees and gestures to the corset, ready to learn. “alright, show me then.” he says, taking a step back to watch. you look down at the corset and groan a bit, hands coming up to squeeze the sides together. “just… push it… together… and undo it.” chris watches for a moment, and he thinks he understands, so he steps back up to you and starts to unclasp your shirt, eventually getting it off and leaving you on his bed in just your underwear. you gasp in a deep breath at the relief and flop back down, eyes closing instantly. “so much better,” you breathe out.

chris tosses the corset on the ground and keeps his eyes locked on you, trailing over your body. he admires you in a way he doesn’t think he ever has before, taking in your vulnerable state and recognizing the level of trust you must have in him to not only ask him for a ride, but to lay here so drunk you couldn’t even undress yourself and know that he wouldn’t do anything to harm you. it sent a shiver down his spine, and he had to pull his eyes away from you before he thought too hard about it, turning towards his dresser to grab a shirt for you to sleep in.

he walks back to his bed once he finds an old shirt that he knew fell past your hips, seeing you curled up on your side and most definitely almost asleep, if you weren’t already. he reaches down and pulls the shirt over your head, maneuvering your body through the shirt until he pulls it down on your torso, covering you up. you’re pretty malleable like this, so he grabs your body and slides you up on the bed and under the blankets, finally letting out a sigh of relief when you’re tucked in.

chris runs his hands over his face for a moment before he turns and gets himself changed as well, which just consisted of taking off the clothes he had thrown on to pick you up, leaving him in just his boxers. he debated sleeping on the couch, or the floor, or anywhere that wouldn’t be in your line of fire if your body decided to throw up, but ultimately he talked himself into just sliding into bed next to you, making sure to keep his distance on his side of the mattress.

his efforts didn’t last long, though, because not even a few minutes after he laid down, you were turning your body to face him and scooting closer until you could wrap your arm around his waist and rest your head on his chest, letting out a small sigh of contentment.

chris is taken aback at your action, his arm that’s now around you extended out in discomfort, not knowing what to do in this situation. you guys weren’t cuddlers, it wasn’t a part of your routine when you would sleep together. lay in the same bed and catch your breath, sure, but cuddling was never in the cards, so he couldn’t help the way his heart picked up at your newfound closeness. it almost felt more intimate than being inside you, like you guys had crossed a line he didn’t even know was drawn.

you let out another soft breath, nuzzling your face further into him as you settled in, not noticing his disconcertment. “chris?” you mumble suddenly, pulling him out of his thoughts. he hums, letting you know he’s listening. “if you just let yourself open up, you’d be a really good boyfriend to somebody someday.”

your words are clearer than they have been all night, and it makes chris’s ears ring and his face go pale, though it’s undetectable in the dark bedroom. he doesn’t answer, unable to find a good enough response, and he deems it unnecessary when he hears small snores coming from your parted lips, like you hadn’t just said something that was going to send him into a spiral for the remainder of the night.

he finally lets his hand come down and rest on your back, staring at the ceiling as he thinks over what you said, trying not to focus on your body weight resting on his, and the way your manicured hand sat peacefully on his stomach while you slept.

you’d be a really good boyfriend to somebody someday.

he found that hard to believe.

a/n: they’re becoming REAL

taglist

@liiixsturniolos @madelinesturn @ifwdominicfike @sophand4n4 @chris-hallelujah @sophsturns @ariana2saucyy @045696 @scorpioosworld @byhrxb @vickytaa @taelovesmattsturniolo @secret-sturniolo @theboredknightcat-blog @slvtf0rchr1s @gabri3la-sturns @delilahsturniolo @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @vanillsstuff @sturnlsstuff @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @mattsbrat @mattsfavoritestar @dominicfikeenthusiast @certified-sturniolo @mattsside @sofiaaguilaxx @idrk2292 @dylansfavwife @sturnl0ve @sturnioloangelxoxo @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @milasturniolo @mattsdillion @birkinbratsworld @aria003 @poppingmypussy4chris @seluky10 @annsx03 @ouchywow @pasteldreams @sweetshuga @pip4444chris @chriss-slut @yourebeautifulqueen @watercolorskyy @courta13 @craftycrafter26 @meg4-matt44

[magical-reid]

Only if You Hold My Hand

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gn!Reader

Word Count: 1.1K

Prompt: 7: “Go with me?” “Only if you hold my hand.”

Summary: Nervously, you ask Spencer to join you at a pop-up art exhibit, only to have him unexpectedly request that you hold his hand to help him navigate the crowds. As the evening unfolds, the simple gesture sparks the beginning of something more between the two of you.

The BAU’s bullpen was unusually quiet for a Thursday evening, the soft hum of computers and the occasional rustling of papers the only sounds breaking the stillness. A low murmur of voices drifted from the break room, but it did little to disrupt the otherwise tranquil atmosphere. You were seated at your desk, nervously twirling a pen between your fingers, your mind circling around the task you’d set for yourself. Spencer sat a few desks away, his brow furrowed in concentration as he worked through a stack of case files, his posture so focused it was almost as if the world had shrunk down to the papers in front of him.

You had been staring at him for the better part of ten minutes, your thoughts racing but never quite finding the words you needed. The sensation of nerves bubbled in your stomach, leaving you restless. Your heart thudded unevenly in your chest, a constant reminder of the request you were about to make. Your palms, damp with anxiety, clung to the cool surface of your desk. It was a simple request, really—asking Spencer to go somewhere with you. Yet the mere thought of asking him, someone who had quietly captured your heart over the last year, left you on edge.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you’d been planning for this moment all day. The art exhibit was an easy excuse—something you’d found out about earlier in the week. But it was never really about the exhibit. You just wanted to spend time with him, in a way that felt normal and unforced. Still, as you watched him read the case files, you couldn’t shake the fear of being rejected.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stand, your legs feeling a little unsteady as you walked toward him. The clack of your shoes against the hard floor seemed loud in the otherwise quiet bullpen, but you forced yourself to keep going.

“Spencer,” you said, your voice a little too high, betraying the nervousness you were trying so hard to keep in check. You swallowed, your throat tight as you tried again, this time forcing a casual tone. “I was wondering if you’d come with me to something.”

He looked up from his case files, his honey-brown eyes soft behind his glasses, taking in the sudden shift in your demeanor. He blinked, setting the file down carefully as he adjusted his position in his chair. “Oh, hey,” he said, his voice warm and inviting. “Did you need help with something?”

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I mean, yes, but not with a case.” You paused, taking a steadying breath as you clasped your hands together, trying to keep them from fidgeting. “I just… There’s this thing happening downtown tonight. A pop-up art exhibit. I thought it might be fun, but I didn’t want to go alone.”

His brows furrowed slightly, his expression shifting from curiosity to a mix of surprise and thoughtfulness. He tilted his head in that familiar way that made your heart skip a beat, and for a moment, you wondered if you’d overstepped. Spencer, after all, was rarely the first to say yes to an invitation that took him outside his comfort zone.

“Go with you?” he repeated, his voice thoughtful, but not dismissive.

You nodded quickly, biting your lip, and your words rushed out, almost a breathless confession. “Yeah. It’s no big deal, just something I thought would be fun. But, you know, I didn’t want to go alone. I thought maybe you’d want to join me?”

Spencer’s gaze flickered over your face, lingering there in a way that made your cheeks flush with heat. His lips parted slightly, as if he were about to say something, but then he hesitated, brow furrowing in that way that made you wonder if you’d misjudged the situation. A few long seconds stretched on between you, your stomach tightening with each passing moment. But then, to your surprise, he gave you a small, shy smile—one you had come to cherish over the last few months, even if he didn’t always realize how much it meant.

“I’d love to go,” he said, his voice tentative but warm. “But… I have to admit, I’m not great with crowds.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, a gesture that mirrored the anxious energy you were feeling. “I think I’d feel better if, uh… if we held hands while we were there.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the unexpected sweetness of his request throwing you off balance. It was almost too much for a moment—Spencer, the man who was brilliant and awkward in equal measure, asking for something so simple, yet so intimate.

“What?” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper, unable to fully grasp what he had just said.

He ducked his head slightly, a pink hue blooming across his cheeks as he stammered. “I mean… I just—I think I’d feel a lot better if you, you know… held my hand. Would that be okay?”

Your heart fluttered at the vulnerability in his voice. The quiet, tentative way he asked was so very Spencer, and it softened you in ways you hadn’t expected.

“I’d be happy to,” you said softly, your lips curving into a smile that felt more genuine than you’d expected.

A visible wave of relief washed over him, his shoulders relaxing as he seemed to find solid ground again. You caught him fidgeting with the edge of the file he had been holding, his fingers nervously drumming the paper as if he wasn’t sure what to do next.

“Okay,” he said, his voice lighter now. “Let me just grab my coat.”

You smiled as he stood and moved to his desk, gathering his things. The tension in the air between you had shifted, replaced by something warmer, more comfortable. The nerves that had gripped you both seemed to fade as Spencer slipped on his jacket, and the two of you stepped out of the bullpen together.

As you made your way toward the elevator, the crisp evening air welcoming you outside, your hand brushed against his. The contact, so brief yet electric, sent a jolt through you, and you hesitated for only a second. Then, with a little more confidence than you felt, you slipped your fingers between his, intertwining them in a way that felt so natural, so right, that it made your heart beat faster.

Spencer glanced down at your joined hands, a small but genuine smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He didn’t say anything, but the way his eyes softened told you everything you needed to know.

“Thanks for asking me,” he said quietly, his voice so tender that it made your chest feel full.

You squeezed his hand gently, your heart racing but in a different way now. “Thanks for saying yes.”

In that simple moment, walking side by side toward the evening ahead, you knew that tonight wouldn’t just be the start of something new—it would be the beginning of a journey neither of you had fully anticipated, but both were more than ready to embrace.

[thef1diary]

THESE DIRTBAG!DANNY FICS EAT I LOVE THESE. LIKE IM SORRY BUT I GENUINELY DON’T HAVE GOOD IDEAS AND YET I LOVE THIS SO MUCH. HMMM… LEMME THINK.. (i have never done this before sorry babe)… MAYBE SOMETHING LIKE BEING INLOVE WITH HIS TATTOOED THIGHS/ADAMS APPLE (two completely different things ik) AND A LITTLE BIT OF A TOXIC RELATIONSHIP I KNOW ITS ALOT TO ASK AND IM SORRY. LOVE YOU SO SO MUCH ❤️❤️❤️❤️

— thank youuu!! I did a lil something on his thighs so lemme bring the attention to Danny’s adam’s apple. Em knows how I went feral over it recently and I knew I had an ask about it somewhere! 18+ content below

You had no business being this obsessed. It was just an adam’s apple—a piece of cartilage, for God’s sake—but on Daniel, it was mesmerizing. The way it bobbed when he swallowed or spoke, the way it stood out when he tilted his head back, the way it seemed to mock you with how much you wanted to sink your teeth into it.

You were straddling him now, his shirt hanging loose on your body, the buttons barely holding together as his hands roamed under the hem. He was smirking, always so goddamn cocky, but your gaze stayed locked on the column of his throat. His head tilted back against the couch, exposing his neck, and you felt heat pool between your thighs.

“You’re staring again, sweetheart,” Daniel drawled, his voice deep and gravelly, the vibration of it visible in the rise and fall of his throat.

“I’m not,” you lied, your eyes betraying you as they trailed back to his throat.

“Oh, you’re definitely staring,” he teased, his hand sliding up to the back of your thigh. “You’ve got a thing for my neck, huh? You're staring at it like you’re starving.”

Your cheeks burned, but you didn’t deny it. How could you? The thoughts racing through your mind were filthy beyond reason. You wanted to kiss him, bite him, lick every inch of that thick neck until he was a panting mess beneath you. You wanted to feel his adam’s apple bob against your tongue as he swallowed your name, wanted to sink your teeth into the tendon that stretched so perfectly whenever he turned his head.

“Fuck off,” you muttered, shifting in his lap, trying to mask the wetness pooling in your panties. But Daniel wasn’t having it.

“Aw, don’t get shy on me now,” he crooned, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles on your inner thigh. “You’re not very subtle, you know. I can feel the way you clench every time I swallow.”

You clenched again, your thighs squeezing around him involuntarily, and his laugh was a low, dirty thing that made your stomach flip.

“Fuck, you’re obsessed,” he said, his hand sliding up to your waist, holding you steady as you tried to wiggle away. “You wanna bite me, don’t you? Leave a pretty little mark right here?” He dragged two fingers up the column of his neck, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed for emphasis.

Your breath hitched, and he noticed. Of course he noticed.

“Go on,” he dared, his voice dropping an octave, rough and teasing. “Get it out of your system. Or do I need to beg you to choke me first?”

Your head snapped up at his words, your stomach flipping violently. You hadn’t said a single thing about that. But now that he’d put it out there, the idea lodged itself firmly in your mind. Your fingers twitched, and your gaze darted to his throat, imagining how his skin would feel under your hands—hot and firm, his pulse pounding against your palm.

“You’re insane,” you muttered, but it came out weaker than you intended, breathier, like you were already caving.

“I’m not the one eye-fucking someone’s neck,” he shot back, smirking. “But don’t stop now, sweetheart. I love this attention.”

Your hands trembled as they found their way to his neck, your thumbs brushing over his adam’s apple. His pulse thumped against your fingers, steady but quickening. His throat flexed as he swallowed, and your breath hitched at the way it felt under your touch.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his eyes hooded as he watched you. “That all you got? Thought you wanted to leave a mark.”

His words spurred you on, and you surged forward, your lips finding the curve of his throat. You kissed him there, soft and tentative at first, but it wasn’t enough. Your teeth scraped against his skin, and when he groaned, low and guttural, you bit down just enough to feel the muscle under your teeth.

“Goddamn,” he rasped, his hands finding your hips and gripping them hard. “Knew you were filthy, but this? Shit, sweetheart.”

You kissed and licked your way up to his adam’s apple, your tongue flicking over it as it bobbed. He cursed again, the sound rough and desperate, and his hips bucked against you, sending a jolt of heat straight to your cunt.

His adam’s apple moved against your tongue, and it was intoxicating—the rough texture of his skin, the way his muscles shifted beneath your lips, the sound of his groan rumbling in your ears.

“I can feel you twitching,” you murmured against his skin, letting your teeth graze the protrusion. “Does it turn you on? Knowing I can’t stop thinking about marking you up?”

Daniel’s laugh was low and breathless, his hips jerking up against you. “You’re a fucking menace,” he said, his voice raspier now, rougher, like your attention was unraveling him.

“Maybe,” you admitted, your lips curling into a smile as you pressed another soft kiss to his adam’s apple. Then, without warning, you sucked hard, your teeth scraping lightly against it.

Daniel’s reaction was immediate. His fingers dug into your hips hard enough to leave bruises, and a deep, guttural groan ripped from his throat. “Shit, you’re gonna kill me,” he muttered, his hands sliding up to the small of your back, pulling you tighter against him.

You grinned, your tongue flicking over the reddened skin you’d just claimed. “Not until I’ve had my fill,” you teased, your lips ghosting over his throat again, taking your time to savor the taste of him—the faint tang of sweat and salt and something that was undeniably Daniel.

“You love this, don’t you?” he said, his voice rough, his breath uneven. “You love knowing I’ll let you do whatever you want. Choke me, mark me up—hell, I’ll let you ruin me, sweetheart. Just say the word.”

You laughed breathlessly, your tongue flicking over the spot you’d just bitten, your hands tightening around his neck as you rocked your hips against him.

“Don’t tempt me,” you whispered, your lips brushing his ear. “I might just take you up on that.”

And based on the way he bucked against you, hard and desperate, you knew he’d actually let you.

want more dirtbag!danny? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

[bugslaststraw]

See it's funny because in the games, and in any other assorted media before the movies came out, everyone low-key just hates Robotnik. And not even in the fun dedicated way like they all seem to think he's a bit of a failure. Which sounds weird if you don't know anything about Sonic (and certainly sounded weird to me three weeks ago when I was one of those people) but it really is just genuinely the case. I think?

Obviously his family all hate him. Movie-only fans will have an idea about this one; we've got good old Geralt Robotnik who didn't give a rats ass about him in favour of his long-dead cousin Maria, whom he wants revenge for. Geralt manipulated him and used him and said "oh Ivo you're no Maria" even though Ivo probably doesn't even know who the fuck Maria is in the movie universe and so on, et cetera. Geralt sucks just as much in the games and did approximately the same thing there.

What you may or may not know is that in one of the games, Eggman runs into a descendant of his from generations into the future. That guy's name is Eggman Nega, and he absolutely hates his ancestor. He thinks he's cramping his style? He's trying to go back in time and kill him to restore his reputation as far as I remember. Not to mention he has other family and cousins, none of whom give a flying fuck what happens to him. I distinctly remember someone who's name was Collin but who's nickname was Snively and who also worked with Eggman at some point, but hated him, and then later betrayed him. I can't remember a single family member of Eggman's that actually seemed to like or even tolerate him.

He's had a lot of henchpeople too. Most of them were robots. A lot of them, like Omega, and Gamma, and Sage to an extent (although she was more like a robot daughter he built for himself) betrayed him and joined the good guys too (Sage is another outlier, she isn't exactly switching over I mean she definitely likes him but she definitely isn't loyal either so.??) I mean, Eggman isn't even surprised by the fourth time. Smaller minions like Orbot (and Cubot? another outlier) and their predecessors weren't able to betray Eggman, but definitely would've if they could've because they all disliked him because he's allegedly a shit boss. (Who says he isn't. He's evil after all.)

He "contracts" a lot of spies and stuff too. Animal characters. They all hate him as well, but he tends to hate them in return, so at least those are entirely fair game.

Not to mention all the villains he's conveniently happened to need the same thing as at the start of the game, but become inconvenient to towards the end, so they betray him as quickly as possible to get ready for their final boss fight with Sonic towards the conclusion of the story. There's more of those than I can count or care to remember. He meets his alternative universe self once and they hate each other. There's even a moment in I think the comics where Eggman loses all his memories and temporarily becomes nice, and hangs out in a village and builds things for the furry people who live there. He makes a wooden puppet style robot that also becomes like a daughter to him. She's good at engineering, just like him. Of course when he gets his memories back and becomes evil again she leaves as quickly as possible and later helps Sonic & co. She's very resentful about it all, I've heard.

None of that is surprising, of course. Eggman is an evil villain to the heroes and a loser to the villains. It's funny! It's a joke. They need to introduce scarier villains in the games to ramp up tension but they can't exactly just drop Sonic's nemesis down a hole somewhere, being as iconic as he is... So he sticks around. But as a joke, rather than an actual threat. And it's a little sad, yeah. But he deserves it! He's trying to create some sort of totalitarian egg-state and he bullies Sonic for having friends, for Christ's sake. Why should anyone want to stay loyal to a guy like that- and why should anyone do it at all? Joining the heroes is the cool thing to do! Shadow does it, Knuckles does it, Omega kinda sorta does it, Sage is toeing the damn line from what I've heard, it's...

Okay, it's kind of a lot? I mean I understand having nobody that's a good guy like the villain, but like... Not even his damn henchpeople robots? In a lot of the animated shows and comics he keeps building robot wives for himself that are explicitly created just to like him, by him. That or he's into someone who's into one of the animals, or similar. I mean, it's that bad. And it's like... Nobody? Not even once in like thirty years did anyone come up with the idea to give Eggman?? This behemoth among famous pop culture characters? A loyal henchman?

And- well, okay, nowadays this isn't true anymore. I'm sure we all know why. And that's kind of fun; in 2020, Doctor Robotnik gained his first and only loyal henchperson. Great! But...

Jeff Fowler is a Sonic fan, isn't he. Would he know..?

Would anyone involved in making the movies know that Eggman famously... Doesn't have any friends? That nobody seems to like him? That he's apparently infinitely betrayable? Do they know? Do they know? Is that why the third movie is written like that? Is it not just a character complex pulled out of someone's- I mean, when movie Eggman says that there's only ever been one person who actually liked him and one person who actually cared about him... He's quite literally right, isn't he. As in... Since 1991... Like 34 years since conception as a handful of red pixels in the hottest new platformer game there's actually, literally only been one character..? ooh I think I need to lie down for a bit

[revelboo]

Has anyone told you today you are one of the best blogs to be found this side of the sun? Cause you sure as hell are. Also I cry every time at TFP Starscream being called a "turkey" cause omg he looks like one 😂 (thats also a nickname I got a lot as a kid xD A varient of "goober" lol) Also glad you are starting to upload some of these to Ao3 cause tumblr can be kinda hard to find things on xD especially with longer things. Also as a Optimus lad im falling over myself for you OP stuff, I eat everyting up between Op stuff and eagerly await TFA Op again (whenever you get the vibe to at least)

He’s definitely one of my favorite iterations of Optimus! Still serious, but not as jaded and so burned out, much more willing to smile still

Broken Heart Pt 3

TFA Optimus x Reader

• Always uncomfortable picking up and carrying Sari because of how fragile she is, you're no better. Can feel your heart beating against his servos, but where Sari is bold and fearless, you're less certain and almost timid in his hands. Glancing up at his face again and again as he carries you cradled to his chassis. Do you feel pressured to go with him? Is that it? He hadn't meant to make you feel like you had no choice. "Are you sure you don't need a human medic?" Reaching a servo to touch your forehead and the little cut there, he’s uncomfortably aware of the discolored spots appearing on your skin. Bruises Sari had called them and these are his fault. Unable to protect you from his own hands.

• Shaking your head, you're not sure if it's because he saved you from that other one or if it's his deep, soothing voice, but you feel safe with him. “You saved my life,” tell him, cautiously resting a palm against his chassis when he looks down at you. “I- thank you,” you finish awkwardly, hating how inadequate those words are. He could have saved himself, not risked his own life to try and protect you, a complete stranger not even his own species. He’d been hurt for you. And nothing you do can ever be enough to repay him for that.

• You’re thanking him? Don’t you realize Blitzwing only attacked because of him? If anything, you should hate him. He should be begging you to forgive him for endangering you, but the words fail him when you rest your head against his chassis. And you’re so small in his servos, warm and needing him in a way Sari rarely does with so many other protectors who are better at talking to her. Connecting and understanding her. “You never need to thank me for keeping you safe.” Aware of Bulkhead watching the interaction, he vents softly. Because no matter what he does, there’s always going to be that guilt that you were in danger because of him and he wants so bad to make it right.

• Relaxing into those big hands, exhaustion is all that’s left after the fear and adrenaline slip from you. Just want to curl up and rest. Maybe have a good cry somewhere safe. And even though you have no idea where he’s taking you, you’re strangely sure it is a safe place. That there’s nowhere safer than in his hands. When he approaches the old building, it doesn’t look that impressive as the green one slides open the big hangar style door so they both can duck inside. And then your heart is racing again. There’s more of them, see their optics widen when they spot you before a red and white one hurries over. From somewhere further inside the building, you can smell chili cooking and your stomach growls. “What happened?” The red and white one snarls as the big, green alien heads deeper into the building and you hear him talking to someone, saying, “You came back.”

• “The Decepticons happened,” he says, attention sliding from Ratchet to you as you try to hide your face against him as if uneasy with the other’s curiosity. “It’s alright. They’re friends,” he adds, trying to reassure you as you glance up at him. Looking to him for protection and it spreads warm through his spark. Wants to be worthy of your trust, to be your protector to make up for endangering you to begin with. Shifting you against him, he introduces himself and his fellow Autobots, smiling when you softly offer your own name.

Previous

[penbuddies64]

Contining on this post i really like the idea that sqh's parents also come to the moutain bi-yearly for the hoildays (sqh comes to their house for the other years) and almost every an ding disciple knows them either it it bc sqh's mom makes and gives out the best desserts (they're free also!) Or sqh's dad (if you literally just bump into him) just teaching you random stuff from how to make maple syrup or how to safely fall from enormous hights (sqh's dad learned how to make maple syrup for sqh's mom bc she wanted to try a new recipe but she didnt have the maple syrup to make it) and when after you meet them they leave you with just so much good healthy parental vibes that they could heal your mommy or daddy issues for a day

Then sqq meets them and is like 'how did you end up like this then?? To sqh and sqh is like 'i said they were good parents, not that i was a good person' and luo binghes in the backround worndering if his adoptive mother had a younger sister bc sqh's mom oddly similar to her and they have somewhat similar personalities (honestly i just like making sqh related to lbg in some way), or theres this time when new years comes every other two years where sqh cannot be disturbed and even if you try to follow him you'll just end up knocked out on the floor (sqh keeps his location of his parents very secure so that they arnt used against him (it happened once when a demon in mbj court tried to make him leave or they'll hurt his family (that demon has been kicked out and killed and that was one of the only times that mbj has his human so filled with rage (it was also really hot)))) anyways sqh also put a fuck ton of protecting and warding talismans to the point where his parents were like

'are you sure we need this much a-hua?'

And he was like 'ma you could never be so sure'

and they were like 'hm okay...'

and then there was this one time when sqq tried to find sqh on the third year since they met to celebrate for new years and he spent like days trying to find him himself and on the 4th day he asked the disciple he saw the most with sqh where tf he is and the disciple was like

Disciple: 'oh you cant find shizun at this time'

Sqq: 'oh really? Why?'

Disciple: 'he just goes somewhere at this time for the new years, no one knows where its just that you literally cant find him and every time somebody tried to they just ended up knocked out at the nearest inn'

Sqq: '... huh'

(Sqq thinks hes going to mbj place)

And only then would he find out in post cannon that the 2 random ppl that he only saw on new years talking with sqh was sqh's parents by him seeing the middle aged man ruffle sqh's hair in a playful manner and the middle aged woman pinch his cheeks and chastising him for not eating enough and asking a nearby disciple who were they for them to be doing that and the disciple answering

Disciple: 'oh those are shizuns parents, they're really nice'

Sqq: '???'

And then later sqq pulled sqh by the robes and said

'YOU DIDNT TELL ME YOU HAD PARENTS???'

And sqh says

'Well i didnt really have the chance to???'

You could the insults from another peak

Tbh ive thought of somthing that i thought would be very funny, what if sqh had like a good relationship with his (transmigrated) parents, like they sent him letters regularly and he replies and he visits them yearly for the holidays or smth cause like ive realized that other than sqq no one in the main cast like has any friendly relationships and im pretty sure that no one in the main cast has any non toxic familal relationships (tlj doesn't count he like the dead beatest of all dead beats) anyway as i was saying i think it would be good for fun factor if sqh had just like a normal family like bc i could just imagine him like transmigrating as a baby and like being kinda bewildered that like his parents were like really good compared to his last ones and even if he was like a 25-30 year old in a toddlers body he still has a toddler brain and the inner desire to be loved by his parents and also being shocked that he didnt have the classic sad backstory like most of the other villians he wrote, so like for the first few years that he regained his memories he always thought that his parents would switch up or smth but after like a few months he began to trust them, and like i could like imagine sqq an offhanded comment saying somthing to sqh ab having no parents or loving parents and sqh being like

"Um actually i do have parents and they love me alot!"

And sqq saying

"Wait what?"

And then sqh showing him like a letter that his parents sended him and then sqq being like

"Wait so you actually have nice and loving parents?"

And sqh being like

"Yep"

Or like sqh having mbj meeting the parents and mbj actually being very nervous for it like hes getting stressed ab what to wear or smth and sqh trying to calm him down

Like i just really like this idea

[antinousletmehit]

Heeyyy beautiful human 🫶

Was wondering if you could do another tiresias x fem!reader?? He sees everything in the future...except her 😮(Bella and Edward who?) and she's super blunt and straight up tell him he's pretty

Idk if this made any sense 😭

Luv u <333

୨୧┇Pairing: Tiresias x Fem!reader

୨୧┇enjoy!

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

Tiresias sat on a weathered stone, his mind was elsewhere, piecing together fragments of futures yet to unfold. You approached cautiously, the crunch of your footsteps breaking the silence. You weren’t intimidated by the prophet, but there was a way in how you carried yourself, as though stepping too loudly might unravel the fabric of his visions.

“Another visitor,” Tiresias said before you could speak. His voice was deep and calm, with a weight that seemed to come from knowing too much. “Odysseus sent you?” You shook your head, realizing that he couldn’t see you. “No. I came on my own.”

His head tilted slightly, and though his empty eyes couldn’t meet yours, you felt the sharpness of his attention. “Curious,” he murmured. “Most people come to me seeking answers, yet I can’t seem to see you.” You blinked, surprised. “You can’t see me?”

“I see all futures, all fates,” he said, gesturing with his hand. “I see past and future running free. But you…You’re an strange. I can’t see yours.” You tilted your head, considering his words. “Does that bother you?”

“Bother?” Tiresias chuckled dryly. “It intrigues me. I’ve seen the rise and fall of kings, the betrayals of lovers, the deaths of humans. And yet, you remain a mystery.” There was a pause, long enough that you started to feel the weight of his gaze—or lack of—again. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, biting your lip before deciding to speak.

“You’re pretty,” you said, completely straight-faced.

Tiresias blinked, his usually composed demeanor faltering for a moment. “What?”

“I said, you’re pretty,” you repeated, folding your arms as if daring him to argue. His lips parted slightly, as though he was searching for a response but couldn’t quite find one. Of all the futures, all the fates he’d witnessed, this was clearly not something he’d predict.

“No one’s ever said that to me before,” he finally admitted, his voice softer than before.

“Well, they should,” you said with a shrug. “You’ve got that whole mysterious, wise thing going for you. It works.” Tiresias let out a breath that was somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “You’re a strange one.”

“Thanks,” you replied, grinning.

For a moment, the silence between you wasn’t heavy or ominous, it was warm, almost comfortable. Tiresias tilted his head again, as though trying to see you in a way his visions couldn’t.

“Why are you really here?” he asked after a beat. You met his blind gaze with unwavering honesty. “Maybe I just wanted to see the great Tiresias for myself. Turns out, you’re not so scary.”

He chuckled again, shaking his head. “You’re either very brave or very foolish.”

“Maybe both,” you said lightly. “But if it makes you feel better, you don’t need to see my future. I’m not that interesting.”

“On the contrary,” he murmured, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You may be the most interesting person I’ve encountered in a long time.” Your grin widened, and without thinking, you reached out to place a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Tiresias didn’t flinch or pull away. Instead, he simply sat there.

[mugglebornmarvelite]

Flirting with Disaster

Paring: TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader (Brother's bestfriend)

Summary: You're about to go on the first real date you’ve had in years, and the nerves are hitting hard. So, you turn to the one person who might help: Peter Parker, your brother’s best friend.

Word Count: Roughly 1.5k 

Warnings: Fluff, anxiety around dating, mentions of insecurities, unrequited/complicated feelings, cringe-worthy moments

Note: I’m planning on making this a three-part or a four-part. Let’s see. Oh, and I've been away from my usual shenanigans, so I am going to post twice this weekend :)

Navigation

Divider by: @strangergraphics

You sat cross-legged on your bed, phone in hand, as if looking at it too long might make it spontaneously combust. The flutter in your stomach definitely wasn’t from hunger. 

No, tonight was the night—a real date. A proper date with an actual guy. 

And the thought of it had you wanting to crawl under your blankets and pretend the world didn’t exist.

Your friends were all in your corner, practically sending you a virtual pep squad of texts: You got this! Go for it, girl! But deep down? You felt more like a deer in headlights. Spiraling towards your impending doom.

You weren’t ready. Mentally? Nope. Emotionally? Not even close. Physically? Definitely not.

Flirting? Kissing? Oh God. It felt like you were about to attempt something far more complicated than rocket science, like you needed a PhD in how to act normally around a guy just to get through the night. And if anything even remotely intimate was on the horizon? Yeah, that sent you straight back to high school, where you could barely look at a guy without tripping over your own feet.

Talking to your brother about this? No way. He’d send you a full PowerPoint presentation on how awkward you were, followed by an Excel spreadsheet of potential embarrassing scenarios. Your mom? She’d tell you how beautiful you were and then proceed to give you every single detail of her first date with your dad, including the color of the sweater she wore and the exact type of pasta they had.

Which left you with one option.

Peter.

Peter freakin’ Parker.

He’d been your brother’s best friend since before you could remember. Still, somewhere along the way, he’d gone from being that cocky, arrogant, too-cool-for-school guy and literal genius whose favorite pass time was annoying you to someone who made your heart do a little flip every time he looked at you. The messy hair. The cocky grin. The snarky vibe that screamed I’m cooler than you, and you were just you. Awkward. Nerdy. And definitely, the girl who’d had an intense crush on him when you were younger, an embarrassing crush at that. But, for the record, you had mostly gotten over.

Mostly.

But now, with the date creeping closer and your nerves flaring up like fireworks in your chest, you were desperate. You needed help.

So you hit dial.

“Hey, little peach.” His voice slid through the phone like melted chocolate, smooth and warm, and the kind that made your chest tighten in a way you didn’t know how to process.

“Hi, Peter,” you muttered, trying to sound casual, trying and failing miserably.

“Long time, no talk. What’s up?” His voice was laced with that familiar mischief, the one that hinted he knew something was off but was enjoying every second of the suspense. “Don’t tell me you burned down your kitchen trying to make some sad excuse for pasta and now you’re too embarrassed to call the fire department? Because, if so, I’ll happily dress up as a fireman and fulfill that fantasy for you.”

You stammered, and he laughed. Loudly.

“You’re hilarious, asshole,” you grumbled.

“I try.” He chuckled. You could practically hear his smirk. “So what’s the emergency? Need bail money? Lemme see, petty theft? Destruction of public property? Actually, scratch that, even you wouldn’t pull something like that, peach.”

Peach. That damn nickname. It hit you like a sucker punch of nostalgia. You remembered summers spent trailing behind him and your brother, trying to act like you were calm and cool while you tripped over your own feet just trying to keep up with them.

You cleared your throat, doing your best to sound like you had it together. “Uh, I need a favor.”

“What kind of favor?” Peter’s tone shifted instantly, a little more serious now. “Everything okay? You’re not in actual trouble, right?”

Panic crept up your spine. Why had you called him? This was so stupid. But here you were, spilling your guts anyway.

“Uh, yes. No. I mean…” You sighed, your voice wavering. “I have a date,” you muttered, hoping he wouldn’t hear the tremble in your voice. “It’s tonight. And I’m freaking out. Like majorly.”

There was a long pause on the other end. Then, that unmistakable chuckle, the one that made you want to punch him. “Wait. Hold on. You? Freaking out about a date? I didn’t know you had it in you little miss awkward. You?” His voice dragged out the last word like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

You grumbled, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, thanks for the support, asshole,” you muttered. “You’re just gonna mock me, aren’t you? This was a waste of time.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, regretting the entire call. You were better off canceling the date and hiding in your apartment with a Netflix binge and a pint of ice cream.

This was just as humiliating.

“I’m sorry for bothering you,” you mumbled. “Bye-”

“Hey, hey,” Peter interrupted. His tone softened, just a little. “I’m sorry for laughing, okay? But you know I can’t help it.”

You huffed, but something in his voice made you hesitate.

“But seriously, you? Nervous?” His voice was almost affectionate now, though he still sounded like he was having way too much fun with this. “Baby, you’re smart, you’re funny when you try, and last time I checked, you grew up gorgeous. What’s there to be nervous about, hm?”

Your heart did that weird skip thing, and you cursed your traitorous body. Baby.

He didn’t even know what he was doing to you when he said it. He said it like it was nothing—like it didn’t even matter. But it hit you harder than it should’ve. 

"Easy for you to say," you snapped back, but even as you tried to sound annoyed, there was a softness creeping into your voice. “It’s been forever since, you know, I’ve had to, like, flirt or kiss or whatever. I don’t want to make a fool of myself.”

There was a long pause. Then, Peter’s voice came through, low and laced with mischief. “Wait a second. Are you asking me to teach you how to flirt? I’m honored, peach.”

“What? No!” You nearly dropped the phone in your panic. “I…wait! No! That’s not what I meant!”

“Oh, but now I have to,” Peter said, sounding far too pleased with himself. “Come over. I’ll help you practice. Flirting, kissing, whatever you need.”

You gaped at the phone, heat rushing to your face. “You can’t be serious.”

“Come on, peach,” he continued a dangerous lilt in his tone. “You used to trust me with everything. Like that time you tried to ride my skateboard when you were, what, ten? You ate it so bad I thought your brother was gonna faint. But I carried you home, dried your tears, and made you laugh instead of cry. You know I’ve got you.”

You closed your eyes, cringing at the memory. You’d been ten, desperate to prove you weren’t just the annoying little sister of his best friend. You’d failed miserably, but Peter hadn’t laughed at you. Well, at least, not until after he made sure you were fine.

"Oh my god," you muttered, cringing at the thought. "I was a mess back then."

Peter’s voice softened, but that smirk was still there. "You were adorable, though. Adorable," he teased, his voice dripping with something almost affectionate. "Especially with those rainbow bandages on your knees. I swear, I could’ve sold tickets to that disaster."

“Don’t remind me,” you muttered, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

“So, come on over,” he pressed. “I’ll give you a crash course. I’m talking flirting 101, kissing for dummies, the whole shebang. You can thank me later.”

You bit your lip, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if you were blushing from memory or how his words made your stomach flip.

You hesitated for a second. This was ridiculous. 

"Peach, you still with me?" His voice broke through your thoughts. "What's your decision?"

But you sighed, giving in. “Alright,” you said before you could stop yourself. “Fine. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“Good girl,” Peter purred into the phone, and you froze. His voice sent a shock through your system that left you breathless. Suddenly, the whole flirting crash course didn’t feel like a joke anymore.

You knew he was messing with you, but it didn’t stop your skin from flushing.

You stared at your phone, wondering what you’d just gotten yourself into.

Peter Parker was going to help you with your love life. No big deal, right?

You weren’t that kid anymore. You definitely didn’t have a crush on Peter Parker.

“Don’t give me that look,” you glared at your stuffed animal as it silently judged you with its big brown eyes. “I don’t have a crush on him anymore.”

That’s what you told yourself, anyway.

Mostly.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

Tags: @ficcharsimp

If you'd like to be added to my taglist

Much love x

- Maeve

[writingwrongwjc]

First Date With the Munson Boy

Eddie Munson x Reader

Warnings: maybe slight angst for a second otherwise all fluff!!

“Should I wear this one or the red one?” You look past yourself in the mirror at Steve and Robin lying on your bed. Steve looks up hastily from the magazine but gives no response. Instead offering a lost expression

“Why are you even going on a date with this guy again?”

Robin props herself up, throwing the nearest object she can find toward Steve.

“Dude you can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not? I’m being honest he’s kinda… well he is a freak.”

“He’s... sweet.” You say, swinging around toward them; making sure your dress swishes as you do so.

“Plus I could make fun of you for so many girls… Linda!” Robin Chimes in.

“Okay, glasses Linda? That’s not fair becau-” Steve begins to ramble but you interject before his poor excuses can manifest themselves.

“You guys! You are no help.” You throw your hands in the air, flailing the dresses as you move.

“Red.”

“Red!”

They both say in unison. Given their struggles with finding love, and your growing irritation you opted for the white dress.

“Mmm it’s classy.” you quip, leaving the room to put on the dress.

How you met Eddie is a story you’d rather not share with them just yet. Although Steve and Robin are your best friends they don’t exactly know about your habitual love for Mary Jane. They know you’ve smoked before, even trying a little for themselves when drunk and adventurous. You have just been embarrassed to admit that you enjoy the little herb, and many of the outcasts that come with it on a consistent basis. One such outcast is the man who started to sell it to you in the first place, Eddie Munson. Town Outcast, drug dealer, and according to neighborhood moms; occultist! After you started buying from him more the two of you started to hang out in those woods more consistently, even when you didn’t want to buy, but knew he’d be back there.

“We can’t keep meeting this way.” He’d say one day, cocking his head with a gentle smile.

“No? Then maybe you should take me out somewhere?” You cocked your head back at him with a slight of mischief on your face.

So now, you stand in your living room all dolled up to go out with the Munson boy.

“He’ll be here any second you guys need to leave! Go!” You shout, pushing Steve and Robin out the front door; giggling as they shuffle through at the same time.

“Have fun!”

“Don’t get murdered!”

“Oh yeah. Use protection!”

Not even a minute later Eddie pulls up in his beat down old van blaring some Iron Maiden song. Rather than allowing him to retrieve you from the house you meet him at the curb so that your parents don’t berate him about where he’s taking you and what his intentions are. He stumbles over his own feet in an effort to reach the van door before you can.

“Your chariot awaits you.” He bows, hand still on the door, eyes lingering on your form for a moment. “You uh, wow.” He says, shaking his head in disbelief releasing a huff of air. “You look amazing.”

“Oh thank you,” you say blushing at his genuine comment. He shuts your door hard, galloping over to the driver’s side, jumping into the seat. The music is now at a comforting volume rather than its usual roar.

“So, where are you taking me?”

“I was thinking we could hit some takeout, then drive out to the quarry and have a bit of a soiree?” Eddie seemed unsure of his idea now that he’s presenting it to you.

“Who knew you were a romantic Eddie!”

“I just, I thought that the stars would be brighter out there, and… you wouldn’t have to actually be seen with me.”

The street lights lit up the sadness glistening in his eyes, although he hid it well under his vibrant expressions and smiles toward you as he spoke.

“If I didn’t want to be seen with you I wouldn’t go out with you, dummy.” You jabbed him in the side in order to lighten his mood.

“I yearn for adventure! There’s no adventure in a drive in. Just making out before you're ready.”

He laughs vibrantly fidgeting with the rings on his fingers as he palms the steering wheel. Quicker than you thought that you would, you arrived at the quarry with takeout cheeseburgers in hand.

Eddie parked at the edge of the water away from the main road. As romantic as it truly was, Steve's words popped back in your head for a moment: “Don’t get murdered.” Not that Eddie would hurt you, just the fact of how dark it is way out here and the colorful history of the area. It's peaceful, but in an eerie way. While you’re thinking about how eerie it is Eddie got into the back of his van to grab a blanket.

“Here it is! Only the finest silks for a lady.” He approaches you staring into the darkness. “Oh. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah! It’s just dark out here. Spooky.” You wiggled your fingers at him when you said the word spooky. You take the blanket from him and turn to find a spot while he turns on some music.

“Okay so options, killer options by the way. We have Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, Dio, Slayer. Oh I have my guilty pleasure prince tape! Or, behind door number three, surprise mix! I have no Idea what’s on this one, I think I was high when I made it or it’s like one of those things where we listen to it and a quest starts”

He holds up each cassette tape like a salesman attempting to get your buy. You couldn’t help but admire his features, complimented so well by a nice leather jacket, cleaner, sturdier than his usual jacket but it suits him so well.

“Door number three, Surprise me! Now come eat, it's getting soggy!”

“Oh one more thing!” he leans into the van once more sliding the cassette into place then reaching to grab something. The first song on the surprise cassette is certainly a surprise to you. Africa by Toto.

He holds up a small hand rolled joint with a crooked grin on his face.

“We’ll save it for dessert!” you say as he sits beside you on the blanket warming the brisk air.

“Oh I thought I was gonna have something else for dessert.” He looks you up and down, biting his lip slyly. Not sly enough, you push his face away from you.

“Eddie! Who do you think I am?”

Rather than taking your shove for what it was he threw himself to the ground with haste feigning injury. Making you burst into laughter from his theatrics. Sitting up again he looks at you with puppy’s eyes.

“I meant Ice Cream, freak. We can go get some ice cream!”

“Oh yeah sure you did, but I’ll hold you to that now.”

After stuffing your mouths and talking a bit in between, Eddie lights up the joint offering you the first hit. You can feel his eyes on your lips as you draw in the smoke. His gaze is soft and his eyes dart across the entirety of your face. As you go to hand him the lit joint you hear a crackle in the woods beside you. Reacting with instinct you gasp harshly scooting your body closer to his, dropping the joint onto the blanket.

“Oh. shit.”

“Shit. Sorry.”

The two or you scramble to pick it up and snuff out the embers, tangling into one another while doing so. Your arm is now hooked around Eddie’s bent leg and his arm under yours, hand resting on the tops of your knees. The tension between the two of you is palpable but you both laugh off what just happened, especially since the weed is now settling into your system.

“You’re honestly such a mage.” Eddies says out of nowhere.

“Huh?”

“I was just thinking if you were a class in D&D it would be mage.”

“I have no idea what that is.” You say looking at him confused but eager to learn more.

He takes the time to thoroughly explain the D&D classes and other game mechanics you didn’t fully understand but thoroughly enjoys the enthusiastic expression on his face while he explains something he loves.

“Basically, they’re very versatile in their magic, like you. Pretty, funny, smart, it's all magic!”

“So would you be a bard then, because they play instruments?” The glow leaves Eddie's eyes and his expression drops, pouting his bottom lip out slightly.

“Well, they play lutes and stuff, it's not the same.”

“I mean sure it is, your electric guitar is just a way cooler version of a lute.”

“There’s more to it than that I’m more of a rogue.” He stands up, broadening his shoulders, with an over dramatic sneaky look on his face.

“Whatever you say, oh great D&D expert!” You hop onto your knees fanning your arms up and down at him. “I dare not question thee. Forgive me my Lord.” Sarcasm thickens with each word.

“I’ll forgive you, fair Lady. Stand!” Eddie poses himself as a king making his decree. “On one condition!”

You stand to your feet with a bit of a wobble, choking back a giggle as the song that is playing ends and the song Hungry Eyes comes on.

“That is?”

Suddenly the air shifts. No longer do you feel playful, but a tickle of anxiety. Nothing surrounds the two of you now. Eddies searches for words to say but can’t think of a royal decree. He crosses his arms loosely.

“Man I suck at this.”

“Or you're distracted.” you offer up walking closer to him until your hands meet his shoulders. The leather cold under your palms. He lets his arms unfold, grabbing you by the small of your back.

“Yeah that’s-” He trails off nervously. You can feel his shaky warm breath amid the cool autumn air.

“Next time I want to go to the most popular spot in town.”

“Next time?” He smiles.

“Yes next time, dummy.”

You slide your hand onto his jawline and then to the base of his neck, burying your fingers into his mess of brown hair. He leans forward slightly, pausing just before he kisses you allowing you to direct the moment. You pull his head closer to yours, your lips crashing together sweetly. His lips full and passionate yet not hungry for more instead satisfied in the moment. You linger in the kiss allowing passion to blossom. When you pull away you linger close to one another, Eddie’s deep brown eyes locked onto your’s, his cheeks are full of color, and his lips forcing themselves upward.

The sweet silence is finally disrupted when you speak up,

“Did you know this mixtape is full of love songs?”

He says nothing, instead stifling laughter as he pulls away from you unable to hide his expression.

“You did, you sneak! Surprise, door number three my ass!”

“So how bout that ice cream, my lady?”

Authors Note: Steddie and Stucky Fics are coming soon! I know I write a lot of x reader but I am workin on others as well!!