#or if it was just outright dumb? idk | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gloomskulls · 19 days ago

Text

LIMERENCE PT 2 [tasm!peter parker x reader]

pairings: tasm!peter parker x reader

part 1

warning(s): dub/non consensual (reader is drunk and drunk people cannot give consent), terribly written smut (i'm a virgin i'm sorry, I have no idea what goes on actually in the bed), oral (fem receiving), drinking, drunk reader, overstimulation, everyone is 18+ here lemme know if I missed any. MINORS DO NOT READ

If you don't want to see my dark stories in the future please block the tag #madi: dark content

A/n: I'm sorry this took a whole ass while, it's probs 90% story and 10% smut. Like it's probs shit, the smut's the reason why I couldn't finish this sooner because I had no idea where it was going. Also tried to write 2012 slang, idk if it even sounds right. don't steal any of the shit I've written or else I'm going to turn you into Victoria Heyes from terrifier ❤️🫶/srs

summary: For Peter Parker, the deepest secret is not being Spider-Man. It's that he likes you, no he loves you, wants you in any imaginable way possible. After years of quietly admiring you from a distance, everything changes after a biology project that partners you two together. Peter sees a glimpse of chance to get nearer to you, but the line of affection and obsession begins to blur

Peter shuffled in his sleep. Tossing and turning. Sleep never found him, how could it? He did something so unforgivable. Having an obsession with someone who barely acknowledges your existence is one thing, but sneaking into her house, completely crossing every single line, and then jerking off to the scent of your panties while imagining you on top of him, riding him as you creamed his cock with your cum.

The air felt heavy and there was an almost stifling silence in his small bedroom, while his mind worked in the manner of a broken machine, looping thoughts.

Every single thing about you — your laugh, the spark in your eyes when you spoke of something you loved, the way you uttered his name — his mind kept replaying like a broken record. Each one felt as fresh as if it had just taken place a moment ago, and each one pulled at something deep within his chest.

He had spent years arguing with himself about what he was doing. He told himself that viewing you from a distance was merely innocent fascination, a little crush. But that had been a lie. What he had done the night before, sneaking into your room was not a mistake; it was a deliberate decision.

Peter was filled with doubts, a regular person would call him lovesick, a creep even. Is she really worth it? Peter admits something he'd been avoiding for a while.

He wanted you.

Not as a classmate. Not as a partner for a stupid project. He wanted you in a way that was raw and desperate and consuming. Oh, he wanted you to look at him the way you look at the rest of the world with trust, with affection, with the same ease that made you laugh at his dumb jokes.

The realization hit him hard. The weight of it sank into his chest like a boulder, but there was a rush of something else too-something darker, more intoxicating.

Peter sat up abruptly, there's only one way or another, heart hammering as he snatched up his phone. Tapping out a quick message, he did so with trembling hands.

"Hey, u free 2nite? Was thinkin maybe we could finish the proj & grab dinner after. My treat. :)"

He stared at the screen, his thumb hovered over the send button. The fear crept back in, whispering in the back of his mind. What if she thought he was crazy? What if she rejected me outright? What if everything he'd built up in his head came crashing down?

Many thoughts crowded his mind, neither of them was good

As he stared at the text, his finger quivered. His stomach tightening in knots. The reply was already forming in his mind—would you say yes? Or perhaps he was weird for asking, for suggesting anything other than school?

But what if he didn't ask? What if he kept on pretending that this crush wasn't eating him up from the inside?

I've got to do this; he tried to steady his breath. This would never come again.

Deep breath and then Peter clicked "send."

Time seemed to stretch into eternity. His mind was racing, spinning out into the worst-case scenarios. You could just say no or even laugh it off and tell him it wasn't a good idea. It's a biology project, after all. That's what it was supposed to be—right?

That crumbled page of biology scraps lay on his desk as evidence of the project you both were working on. It was supposed to be a simple collaboration, probably will last for a few weeks if he was lucky, and then he'd just go back to being invisible to you.

But he didn't want to go back to being invisible.

He sat there at the edge of the bed, hunched over in an awkward position, his elbows rested on the stretched knees, and he stared his phone, convinced that at any moment it would leave his grip. He had typed the message, the own words glowing brighter as he waited.

He had redone it like at least a dozen times, but all versions felt way too casual to too formal. His current message was just right; friendly, innocent enough but still an invite.

What if you think it is strange? What if you don't even reply at all?

He shook his head to stabilize his breathing. It's alright, he told himself. His not asking for something crazy. It's only a dinner.

But it wasn't just a dinner. It was the convergence of years of quiet yearning, stolen glances, and missed opportunities. This was the first real step toward something more, if only he could find the courage to take it.

He shunned his phone flat on the bed thinking that might ease the tension in his chest, but it didn't. His heart raced as seconds ticked by on the clock, each second feeling like an eternally long wait.

What if you didn't reply?

What if you did?

His thoughts were interrupted abruptly as his phone buzzed.

He grabbed it with trembling hands.

"Sure! I'm totally in. Where r we meeting? 7?"

He read the message over and over again: You're saying yes. Relief was an actual weight that was just lifted as disbelief flooded him as he blinked at the screen, rereading the message to make sure it hadn't been imagined.

For a moment, he allowed himself to smile, but it quickly disappeared. Now that he got the answer, a different kind of panic struck.

What happens next?

"Yea 7’s cool, I’ll pick u up @ ur place"

He looked up at the clock-6:30. In thirty minutes, he needed to get ready. Thirty minutes within which he needed to figure out how not to screw this one up completely.

Peter fell out of his chair and quickly rifled through his closet for something fresh and unique that didn't look like it had just been thrown on five minutes ago. His room was strung out in a mess of hoodies and T-shirts that didn't do any good as he tried on piece after piece-each feeling wrong.

"Relax," he murmured at himself while gazing at his reflection in the mirror. Hi hair looked like he just crawled out from under the bed, his face was red, and no matter how many adjustments he attempted on the clothes, he still looked like the awkward kid he'd always been.

Peter raced around his pod-sized room in search of a shirt that didn't scream "high school loser." The bed was a battlefield littered with crumpled hoodies, a checkered flannel, even his Midtown Science Academy T-shirt.

"Peter?" Aunt May's curious sounding voice called out from the hallway.

"Yeah?" he shouted back while looking through his closet and listening.

"Why does it sound like a tornado hit your room? Are you okay in there?"

Peter groaned and threw another hoodie onto the pile he was amassing on the bed. "I'm fine!"

The creaky door slammed open a moment later, and Aunt May peeked her head in. Her sharp eyes traveled the disaster area that was his room, from the piles of clothes, and even down to the one sneaker he was wearing.

"Uh-huh. Fine." She crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. "What's all this about? A wardrobe crisis?"

He sighed at her and rubbed the back of his neck. "Nothing serious, okay? I just… I'm going out."

May raised an eyebrow as her lips twitched as if trying hard not to smile. "Going out? As in… on a date?"

"What? No!" Peter's voice shot up as he spun around, waving his hands. "It's not a date! It's just dinner. For a project. With a friend."

By now, she wasn't even trying to hide her grin. "A 'friend,' huh? Is this the same 'friend' you've been talking about nonstop since this biology project started?"

"I don't talk about her nonstop!" protested Peter, turning into a shade of tomato. "Oh, you definitely do," Uncle Ben countered from outside the hallway and into the room, sporting the knowing smirk of someone who has heard too much. "Half the time, it's, 'Oh, she's so smart,' and the other half is, 'She's so good at this lab thing.'" He said with a dreamy tone

"Okay, okay, so I get it!" he groaned while burying his face in his hands. "Can we not do this now?"

Ben laughed and slapped Peter on the shoulder. “Relax, kid. We are just teasing, and you've got this.”

May walked into the room and picked up one of the forgotten shirts from the bed. Holding it up, she said, "What is wrong with this? Nice but casual, not slobby."

Peter squinted at it. "It's too—I don't know; plain?"

"Plain is better than looking as if you are trying too hard," she said, tossing it to him.

Uncle Ben nodded sagely. "It's right." "You don't want to go full tuxedo on a first—uh, not a date," he added quickly, holding up his hands when Peter glared at him.

Peter huffed but pulled the shirt over his head anyway. "You two are the worst," he muttered, though his tone lacked any real bite.

May smiled and reached out, smoothing the collar of his shirt. "We are not the worst. We are just proud of you. It's good to see you putting yourself out there."

"I'm not—," Peter began, but Ben cut him off.

"You are," Ben said firmly. "That's a good thing. Just be yourself, Pete. If she's as great as you say she is, she'll see what we see, a smart, kind, slightly awkward but very lovable kid."

Peter's face burned. "Yea, you really know how to give a pep talk."

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?" Ben fired back with a grin.

May handed Peter his second sneaker. "Here. Don't forget this, unless you're planning to really impress her with your one-shoe look."

Peter rolled his eyes but could not quite hide the grin that crept onto his lips. "Thanks, Aunt May."

So Ben called after him as he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. "And remember, kid—Italian places usually give you breadsticks first. Don't fill up before the main course!"

Peter groaned loudly. "I'm going now! Bye!"

He was there, at your door, heart pounding heavily, as if wanting to burst out from the body. He lingered for a while, staring at the doorbell.

What if this is a mistake?

But before you could think otherwise, the button pressed his finger.

And then echoed the sound of the bell from inside, and Peter felt that the earth would open up and swallow him whole in an instance. He heard footsteps, and then the door opened.

There you were.

"Hey, Peter!" you said, smiling that effortless way that made his breath catch in his throat, stepping aside and gesturing for him to come in. "You're right on time, I just need a minute to grab my bag."

Peter managed a small smile and stepped in, wiping his sweaty palms against his jeans. "Yeah, of course. Take all the time you need."

You disappeared into another room, leaving Peter hanging awkwardly at your door, his eyes darting about. It was a very warm and inviting house, in harmony with the kind of person you were. The faint hum of a television in another room was muffled, someone talking, and he could hear that easily.

Your presence returned with your bag slung around your shoulder and you ignited the nerves again in Peter.

“So,” you said, smiling at him, “where to?”

Peter hesitated just a beat too long, his mind scrambling to come up with an answer. "Uh, I was thinking Italian? That okay with you?"

"Italian sounds great," you said easily as your smile widened.

Peter's heart raced as you stepped out the door, walking beside him toward the small restaurant a few blocks away. The night air was crisp, and for the first few minutes, he was too caught up in his own head to say much. But then you started talking, asking him about his day, about the project, and the sound of your voice eased some of his tension.

You made him feel like he belonged, even without having a word to say.

When the restaurant came in sight, Peter turned to you. Nerves still there but mixed with something else: a quiet and hopeful excitement.

Maybe just maybe, tonight will be the beginning of something real.

The walk to the restaurant was such a nerve-racking experience. Each step Peter Parker took beside you felt like a step closer to something he wasn't ready (or was actually hoping for). His hands buried deep in his jacket pockets, fingers curling and uncurling, while trying to keep steady pacing alongside you.

But you appeared to be at full ease. You talked about the cool evening, how the trees' leaves were beginning to rustle with the cold wind blowing, and even the faint smell of roasting chestnuts from a street vendor a few blocks away. Peter heard everything, nodded, and punctuated things now and then with the occasional "Yeah" or "Totally," but as for his thoughts, they were running wild within him.

This is well. This is the standard. This is alright, He didn't over hypothesize for the hundredth time.

As much as there was relief in now having something solid to focus on, Peter was panicked that it all became real at that moment.

He opened the door for you, his hand trembling slightly as he held it.

"Thanks," you said, giving him a swift smile before stepping inside.

"Uh, yeah. Of course," Peter mumbled as he hung his head and followed you in.

The hostess took you to a corner besides the glass window, a cozy little spot with a flickering candle in the middle of the table. Peter's hands trembled as he took the chair and gestured you to sit on it.

The menu in front of him could be in another language as he stared dumbly at it, words bringing into a blur while the thoughts buzzing in his head were getting harder to put to rest.

Don't be weird. Just be normal. What does "normal" even mean? Stop overthinking! You've got this!

"This place is nice," you commented as you scanned the menu. "How did you discover it?"

"Oh, um, my aunt used to like it here," Peter said, grateful he could answer such a question. "She says the lasagna is the best."

You grinned. "Aunt May has good taste. I will try that."

He nodded, yes, but could not stop the rush of nervous thoughts flooding his mind. He glanced at the menu as if studying it although he already knew what he would order. But his mind was instead filled with every possible thing he could screw up tonight.

Don't talk too much; don't laugh strangely; don't look like an idiot.

Here came the waiter, and you ordered effortlessly, laced with a polite smile as you handed him the menu. Peter stammered out his order and felt his palms sweat as he gave it. When the waiter walked away, Peter could feel your eyes on him, and it took everything he had to meet your gaze.

"So," you said, leaning in with elbows planted on the table, chin cradled in palm, "what's your thing, Peter?"

"My thing?" he said, taken aback. "Like, my thing?"

"Yeah, like… what do you do for fun? What are you really into doing when absolutely no one else is watching and judging?"

Peter blinked, trying to think of something that wouldn't sound lame. "Uh, well, I like photography," he said. "And science, I guess. Experiments, stuff like that."

You perked up. "Photography? That is cool. What kind of pictures do you take?"

"Mostly city stuff," he said, his voice gaining a bit of confidence. "You know, like weird angles, shadows, reflections. It's probably not that interesting to most people."

"I think it sounds interesting," you said. "I would love to see your pictures sometime."

Peter's heart was pounding so hard. "Really? Uh, yeah, sure. I mean, if you want."

That made the conversation flow more easily. You told him about your love-hate relationship with math, how sometimes you spent too long procrastinating by watching cooking shows instead of doing your homework, and how one time you tried to make crème brûlée and almost burned your stove.

“I had to open every window in the house,” you said, laughing. “My mom came home and thought I’d burned dinner. I didn’t tell her it was supposed to be dessert.”

Peter grinned, feeling just a little bit more at ease. “Maybe stick to cookies next time, huh?”

“Noted,” you said with a mock-serious nod.

Then it was time to eat. You both started digging into it while still keeping up your conversation. Peter quickly found himself becoming much more relaxed, finding it absolutely easy to talk to you when he didn't over-analyze every word. You burst into laughter each time his jokes finished, and whenever his eye fell into yours, everything around faded.

There was little doubt that he was doing this because he was desperate enough to strike a topic that wouldn't make him sound like an idiot; this was the reason why he asked, "You, uh, good with the whole project?"

You leaned back, fiddled with the napkin on the table, and said, "Yeah, it's actually been fun. Well, I mean, we work well together, and you're much smarter than I had thought."

Peter blinked. "Wait, you thought I wasn't smart?"

"No, I just-" You smirk, it's clear you're enjoying his reaction. "You always seem kinda… busy with stuff, you know? You're not exactly the loudest guy in the room."

"Well, I, uh…" Peter rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I'm, uh, more of a behind-the-scenes guy. You know, less talk, more… action?"

You laughed, the sound light and easy, and Peter felt himself get a little more relaxed. Maybe you weren't judging him.

'This place have wine?' you ask all of a sudden, not looking up from the menu.

Peter blinked. "Uh… I think so?"

You smirked and put your feet up on the table after throwing the menu on it. "Perfect. I could use a glass."

Peter was at a loss on how he should respond. It just didn't seem like the kind of person who would order wine to go with dinner-at least, not in his limited and admittedly romanticized view of you. But when the waiter came by, you ordered an entire bottle without hesitating, barely glancing at Peter for confirmation.

"Um, yeah, sounds good," Peter said weakly, even though the thought of drinking anything stronger than soda made him nervous.

The waiter nodded and disappeared, leaving the two of you alone in an awkward silence.

But the waiter was back again, this time with a bottle and two glasses, which he laid down with a polite smile. And before you knew it, the deep red liquid was already swirling around in your glass because you had poured it in haste from the bottle.

Want some? You asked, already halfway through your first sip.

“Uh, maybe later,” Peter said.

You shrugged and took another long drink before putting the glass down with a satisfied sigh. “Suit yourself.”

The most casual kind of conversation developed between you: you asked Peter about what he was interested in, and he managed to stumble along throwing together great lengthy descriptions about why he loved photography and science, and the words came out too fast for him to think them. It almost seemed like you were listening to him, however, because he went on to nod before even asking follow-up questions, which made him for the first time in a long time feel that he wasn't entirely invisible.

By that time, he was becoming aware, as the hours slipped away, that you were filling up your glass more and more often. The bottle was now half empty when the food came, and you were already sporting rosy cheeks when the alcohol was pouring into your system.

“This is good,” you said, hardly bothering with your plate in order to gesture with your fork at it. "I mean, really good. Good call, Parker.”

The smile that appeared on Peter's face was that of nervousness. "Thanks. I'm glad you like it."

Now you leaned back in your seat, holding your glass up to the light. "You know, I don't really do stuff like this. I've kind of never had dinner with classmates. It's just a little… weird, you know?"

Peter sank a little. "Weird, how?"

"Not bad weird," you said immediately by waving your hand. "Just… different. Like, generally, I would just be at home watching some lousy reality show and trying to forget how much homework I have to do."

Peter chuckled, even though he had no idea what to say next.

After a sip of wine, the boy looked up at Peter who immediately landed his gaze upon the bottle. You seem well into your first glass with a heightening sense of ease that you appeared to be at his home. Maybe it was because of the wine or perhaps how you were looking at him right now-not with judging spectatorship but with a strange kind of understanding that made him feel as if he were not really out of place.

It was only a count of seconds before the food arrived while you already had a second glass in hand. Peter's stomach flipped at that moment. This wasn't the way he was used to seeing you, all loosened up and speaking without that slight guard he usually saw when you were around. You appeared different tonight, and Peter couldn't quite figure it out if it was a good thing or not.

However, the conversation was still going on, only that as soon as you took a few more drinks, conversations shifted to more profound, much more personal things. Laughter spilled from your lips more freely, although Peter saw that smiles were now somewhat uncontrollable. Maybe it was the wine; maybe it was just the ambience. In any case, he could feel something shifting, like you were letting him see this version of yourself you weren't sure he was supposed to see.

"Peter", you said, looking at him with wide eyes after a long sip. "What's your big dream? Like 20 years from now, what do you see yourself doing?"

He shifted around uneasily on his chair. And that question was sudden, a little more intense than he would have reckoned it to be. He was not used to being asked about his future like this.

"Honestly?" said Peter, leaning back a little and looking down at the half-finished plate in front of him. "I don't really know. I think- I think I want to do something with science, or photography. Maybe combine. Don't know really. Just like, I want to fix things, you know? Help make the world a little less broken.''

You were quiet for a moment, and Peter wasn't sure whether it was because he'd said something wrong or whether you were just thinking. But when you finally spoke, your voice was softer, almost quieter than before.

"I think that's really admirable, Peter."

That was it. That one simple sentence hit him harder than he expected. He wasn't used to compliments like that- not from you, not from anyone. The words were a strange dream, and for a second he just looked dumbfoundedly at you trying to really understand what you mean.

Peter had never imagined the night to go this way. Not even in a million years. But here he was, walking alongside you, swaying slightly on the sidewalk with less steadiness in your step than before. Surprisingly, the wine had hit you faster than he figured, and he wasn't so sure if he should be concerned or just chalk it up to the kind of night it had turned into.

"Hey, I'm-" You hiccupped, laughing lightly at your own clumsiness. "I'm fine, Peter. Really."

But Peter wasn't so sure. His instincts were whipping him into overdrive-the same ones that always made him want to leap into action when something was amiss. "Yeah, I don't think you are," he said, trying to keep it light. "Let me just walk you home, okay? Just to make sure you're good."

But you rolled your eyes, with an almost sheepish smile you gave in, "Fine, fine. I get it. You're worried about me."

"Yeah, I am," Peter said, his voice a little quieter than he intended. "But you're my responsibility right now, okay?"

You exhale a small laugh, and Peter can't help but take note of how completely giddy it sounded, a little like you weren't quite sure where you were or what you were doing. You leaned against him, and then Peter was surprised at how easily you let him help you with that.

The way home was otherwise silent except for the occasional trip and the muttered apologies from you. But Peter didn't mind it, sensing closeness, although strange. Everything was just weird tonight. The brushing of your hand against his as you reached for your keys. That laugh of yours that wouldn't leave his ears. The vulnerability you seemed to wear in your eyes at that moment.

So, then you reached your door, and you suddenly stopped and stood there, fumbling with the keys in your hand. Peter moved closer but silently offered to help. You shook your head.

"I've got this," you said, though your words were slurring just enough for Peter to catch the uncertainty behind them.

After much effort on your part, the door finally opened. You leaned in again, and Peter nearly lost his heart as he had to rush forward to steady you.

"Whoa, take it easy," Peter said catching you as you stumbled. "Let me help you."

You smiled up at him, glassy and unfocused. "I'm fine, Peter," you slurred. "Just a little…tipsy."

Peter chuckled and guided you up the walkway to your front door. "Tipsy, huh? Well, let's get you inside and safe, then."

As you both reached the front door, you fumbled with your keys and Peter had to gently take them from your hand and unlock the door himself. You smiled up at him, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

After some time and a couple of tries, she got the door opened.

"Okay, inside," he said, his tone a little more powerful now. You did not resist him as he helped you through the door, but there was a strange sadness in your eyes that twisted Peter's stomach.

You moved slowly to the couch and finally sank down on it; the wine was exhausting. Peter stood near the door for a moment, wondering his next move. He wanted to shoot his shot, his thoughts wandered to somethings more inappropriate. Wasn't this all about getting you safe? Ensuring you did not end up passed out somewhere in a big, messy pile of sheets and regrets.

"Can you just… stay for a bit?" you asked quietly, with barely a whisper.

Peter hesitated. He didn't want to go too far, and he couldn't just leave you here, not looking so…fragile.

"Yes," he spoke softly, entering then into the living room. "I'll stay for a bit"

You nodded at him, gazing at him with tired eyes. "Thank you."

Peter perched on the edge of the couch; his hands awkwardly balanced on his knees. What a strange space there was between you two now, strange in that it was so very close, yet so far away. He wanted to be of some use and ensure you were okay, and yet the way the glance kept coming from you in that direction somehow felt… off. It was like walking on a fine line.

Peter looked at you longingly, you were so beautiful.

Too close and too perfect, he found himself sitting next to you, and Peter felt the pressure of so many things left uncommunicated fill his chest. He needed to do it. He needed to say it.

"Peter?" Your voice was a soft whisper, a little uncertain. Wine had aided this whole relaxing process, yet made almost everything feel slightly out of focus.

Peter swallowed, heart pounding in the chest. He wasn't entirely sure if it was the alcohol that has found narrate in your system, or if it was the raw honesty of the moment, but he knew very well it was now or never, the one chance to say all he had kept bottled up for months.

"Yeah?" he whispered, getting closer so that he was almost against you now.

"It's just that, I… I'm sorry if I've been too much tonight," you said, your words slightly slurring as you allowed your gaze to drift over his face. "I didn't mean to get that drunk."

Peter felt his breath hitch in his throat. "It's fine," he said, his voice softer now. He could feel his palms sweating, his heart racing faster than ever. "I just… I just want to make sure you're okay."

You smiled up at him, but it was a little foggy, and Peter could tell that the wine had dulled your clarity. Still, you were so beautiful, standing there, looking at him with those eyes—eyes that made him feel like he mattered.

Peter took a sharp breath and let a sudden breath of air come out. It was as if a magnet was pulling them together, and he was drawn to it. "So, uh– I was thinking…" He hesitated for a moment, then recovered his composure, trying to calm the trembling in his hands. "I've been thinking about you for a long time. Like, longer than I should have."

His brows knitted further in confusion as Peter quickly realized that the rest of the sentence was failing miserably in getting through your mind, as if the actual words were swimming around in it, suspended in fog. He stepped closer, unable to stop himself.

"If I—" He let out a shaky breath. "You know, I've been loving you for so long now. And tonight, I couldn't hold it anymore and just… broke the dam."

Your expression shifted slightly. Confusion clouded your gaze. You blinked, trying to piece together his words. "Wait, what?"

Peter took a step closer, completely incapable of holding himself back. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, and he felt the heat between you intensify. He reached out, his hand brushing gently against your arm. "I love you," he whispered again, barely able to breathe. "I love you so much, and I've been too scared to say it. I've watched you for so long, and I—" Peter stopped mid-sentence as he looked at you, eyes looking like a lost puppy.

"You're so beautiful, so so beautiful" He leaned in, your face was so close to him, his lips brushed against yours. He held your face as he licked your lips.

You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin with just the proximity of Peter's face to yours, and the goosebumps it sent down your spine. Those eyes were filled deeply with a longing expression and captured yours as if drowning you in its depths. There was air that quite vibrated between the two of you, and the heat that seemed to take form could even be felt emanating from his body.

"I wanted to do that for so long," Peter whispered. His voice shuddered with desire. Gentle words falling like a caress to send shivers through you: "Wanted to touch you, hold you, kiss."

His lips brushed against yours when he spoke, making your body spark with electricity. You were pretty much melting into him, as if his very desire were consuming your human body. His lips, soft and gentle, just as firm and insistent. You tasted like wine.

"You're so beautiful" he said as his hands went underneath your dress, his hands inching close to your under garments. He touched your clothed core; he used his index finger to rub your clothed cover clit

You squirmed in his touch, "P-peter" You mewled in his mouth

This just seemed to fuel Peter even more, as he set aside your panties as his smooth fingers rubbed your now exposed core. Peter looked at you, he slowly kneeled as he spread your legs.

He looked at your wet core, as if it was a painting that he couldn't understand. Without warning he then sucked your glistening pearl; his tongue probed the inside of your gummy walls as his fingers rubbed your pearl. You cried out, your body arching up to meet him, and Peter felt a surge of excitement. He was in control now, and you were at his mercy.

He knew it was wrong, you were drunk after all, but he couldn't help it, this was his only chance.

He licked and sucked at your clit, his fingers plunging in and out of your dripping wet pussy, you cried out in ecstasy, your hands tugging at Peter's hair. But he didn't care, all he cared about was your dripping we cunt.

Anticipation dwells in the coiling mouth against your body, sending shivers along your spine. Every inch of you is lulled into stimulation by his gentle probing, drawing near to a soon-to-be-hidden insistent demand. You can feel that hot air glazing across your skin, soft scraping with teeth, and relentless pressure from his lips, all of which accompanies his tongue.

Your hands are clenched while he works, fingers digging into the sheets or perhaps his hair, holding him there. Your hips jerk primitively, as though to push him deeper and encourage more pressure, while your breathing makes raspy sounds mixed with soft mewls of pleasure.

One hand is busy at your hips, molding you solidly into place, while the other slips only up over the curve of your waist before settling over your breast.

You feel yourself immersing in the sensation as your focus is honed into one. The only critical thing is the feeling of his mouth on you. The whole room begins to fade away, and you're left with only the slushing wet sounds he makes and your breathless gasps, groans, and cries.

Peter on the other hand felt like he was in cloud nine, his mouth was now fully covered in your arousal, but he didn't care. He continued lapping at your cunt, accompanied with his middle finger thrusting in and out of you.

As the intensity rises, so do your frantic movements: the hips jerk and thrust as though reaching toward some ill-defined height. His mouth is a scythe-like blur of tongue lashing and probing until the pressure builds and you're all quivering trembling muscles, precariously balanced on a knife edge of release.

Your mouth is wide open, frozen in a silent scream on your lips, and your entire body starts quivering at the moment of release.

Then silence engulfs the outside world; its only inhabitants are trapped in a silent world of raw lust. His mouth is a furnace, raging, and threatening to engulf you completely, but you lean into the flames, thirsty for the intense heat that only he can provide. Your skin is slick with sweat, your heart thundering like a runaway train as your body builds toward the inevitable climax.

Your cries intensify as tension rises, a mournful cry into this frantic air, a scream savage, echoing off the walls as your body strains towards that release. Your muscles quivering.

Before you knew it, it almost hit you like rough wave of pleasure.

His cock twitched, his balls tightening with anticipation, as he felt the warmth of her your release in his mouth. That alone could make him cum his pants. He had never been this close to a woman before, and the thought of exploring your body was almost too much to bear. And here he was doing exactly just that.

You were beautiful to Peter, but you looked ungodly when you were in a state of release. The way your chest would heave up and down, how your mascara was running down your eyes, and your lipstick smudged on the side of your face.

"You're so beautiful" he said, barely even above a whisper.

"P-peter— OH MY GOD!"

He suddenly took a long slow stripe of your pussy, as if savoring everything, but then stopped when his tongue reached your clit. He sucked on your little pearl as if it was lollipop.

You moaned loudly as your back arched and your toes curled, "P-peter" You whimpered

The way he was sucking on your clit, along with his fingers that was thrusting deep inside you. It made it nearly unbearable. The last few moments or so almost sent you spiraling into one of those severe orgasms that made you see stars on your ceiling.

Loud moans slipped from your mouth, you wondered if your parents were at home, what if they see their sweet girl falling apart underneath the so-called weird kid of your school.

Your hips bucked against his mouth, trying to ease the bittersweet pleasure he was giving you. "P-peter, oh god, stop, I c-can't take it anymore" you begged in a voice very nearly a whisper. Body trembling, your hands reached instinctively for his hair, holding him.

He continued his performance on your clit. A familiar knot kept building inside you. Suddenly, the moans turned into loud gasps, and your body began to shake uncontrollably. P-peter, I…I think I'm going to come again" you finally whisper. To that, he only sucked harder, licked harder, his fingers falling on a rhythm with his tongue swirling relentlessly on your sensitive spot, bringing you to sweet agony. Your back arched up, you gasp while screaming, "P-PETER!"

Heaving and shaking with each pulsing moan, you lay there with your body's hypersensitivity after such intense pleasure receding. Finally, Peter raised his head. That satisfied smile on his face was testimony to your ability to elicit such feelings from him. And with his eyes, he stared at you, every flicker of lust speaking volumes about what was crossing his mind. Then he kissed near the center of time in your inner thigh, his lips dragging softly, and then moving to lie with you at the side of the couch

Peter's smile slowly faded as he noticed your catch of breath, replaced with a show of real concern. He stroked your hair as he gazed into your eyes. "That was intense," Peter said. "You're shaking." His voice was tender, wrapping around you like a soft blanket. "Time to get you to bed, all right?"

He managed a slowly rise from the couch while extending his hand forward towards you. You grasped onto it and found your balance shaky; nonetheless, Peter assisted you toward leaving the living room, down the hallway, and into your bedroom.

Peter opened your door slowly, revealing the bedroom from that night. Snap out of your thoughts Parker!

The bedside lamp cast a warm glow over the room. Peter placed you carefully at the edge of the bed. He knelt down to remove your shoes and started undressing you slowly and carefully. He threw the covers over you as you laid back in bed, tucking you in like a young child.

"Rest," he whispered as he brushed his lips against your forehead. "Sleep, I'll be here when you wake." He sat beside you, stroking your hair with his hand. Your eyelids began to feel heavier, and weariness, along with all the forms of pleasure, finally overtook you. Peter was the last person you remember as you slipped into slumber, where upon you felt the warmth beside you that offered the source of a much-needed sense of safety.

@gloomskulls 2024, DON'T COPY, TRANSLATE OR USE OF MY WORKS IN ANY OTHER WEBSITE. Photos don't belong to me

181 notes · View notes

muffinsin · 4 months ago

Note

Greetings. I know thyeth awaiteds of trial, aka, thoueths inbox, is full of requests, so, if thou doth perchance chooseth to bless thy anon, by choosing to grant myith humble pleads, take your time.

I sincerely ask of thou to consider thy dumb lil giggleshits by writing about the dimitrescu sisters (seperate, not as a polycule) reactions to their s/o (thats us!!! Thats you!!!) outright demanding to be 'bitten better' after getting a large wound/scar/scab or something, because, like, if im correct, thats just like, alot of ur bloodcells rising to reform damaged skin??? or something?? Idk. I failed science. I just think it would be funny to be like '(BELA/CASSANDRA/DANIELA), GIT OVER HERE AND BITE ME,, I HAVE PLACES TO BE AND I DO NOT NEED TO EXPLAIN TO PEOPLE HOW I TRIPPED AND FELL ONTO THE HANDLE (?? Do they have handles?) OF UR DUMB (friggen) SICKLE!!!"

I thanketh thee for thoueth time.

with utmost respect, thoueths truely,

Corvina, aka, stupid, medieval-talking dork.

-⚔️🧷

Haha I love this!! XD That’s some fancy talk right there🧐🎩! (Cassandra likes to insist on your point, biting to make her lover feel better. She’s just helping, really!)

Now, let’s get into this!🙌 :)

Masterlists

Bela

You’re bored, waiting for your girlfriend to finish up her work

Really, you doubt it will ever be finished, but at the very least Bela promised to set limits for herself as it comes to work, to avoid overworking herself, and to allow her to spend more time with you

Now, she probably would be more motivated to wrap things up immediately if she knew what you’re up to

Bored as you are, you desperately need something to do

And really, the castle- or village in general- doesn’t offer too much that doesn’t include murder

And even that isn’t your thing, at the very least not without Bela

As such you find yourself sitting at the unoccupied desk in her room, lazily playing with the sickle she left there for her nightly hunt

You’re sure she wouldn’t mind! After all, it’s not like you’re breaking it!

You’re merely playing with it!

What could go-

You flinch when it slips from you, then yelp when it’s sharp blade slices through your inner thigh, then falls from the chair and to the ground, at last laying bloodied between your shaking legs

Oh oh…

You whine a little as you look down at the cut, deep, but hardly lethal

The sight of the bloodied flesh and the feeling of the painful ache surrounding it is enough to have you run off to find Bela

Which is precisely why you find yourself the way you do now, sat down in her office chair, your face flushed and cheeks burning up as you look down at her

Her lips and tongue tending to your cut, her body below you as she kneels between your legs

Needless to say, it’s an explicit looking image, one that has your entire body tingle

Yet, the glare she shoots you over and over again has your thoughts stay in the gutter

You pat her hair apologetically, scratching softly at her scalp just the way she likes it

Soon enough, thankfully, your cut stops bleeding and no longer aches this much

Still, you know her work is not yet done

As such, you send her a shy smile, apologizing for foolishly playing with her weapon yet again

You don’t think it wise to point out that you only did so because you were bored. Her glare is deadly enough as is

Though, it’s adorable how her eyes soften when you scratch her scalp just right

And, admittedly, she looks adorable with her lips and chin stained in your blood

You gasp when she bites down beside the cut, then at the other side

Again and again, and again and again does she tend to the gentle bites

Soon, your entire thigh is throbbing, but experience tells you the sensation will pass soon and the skin will heal fast

You lean back against the chair as she rises and reaches into her drawer

You throw her a weak smile when she bandages you up, and can’t help but grin when she kisses your forehead

Your cheeks heat up again when she grabs your face, raising an eyebrow at you

Still, you can’t help but smile at her

“Don’t touch my things again”, she warns, her tone playful

You nod, happily taking the kiss you receive in return

Cassandra

You love Cassandra

You love every part of her, treasure her sadism and need to cause trouble as much as her rare, softer sides

You love her creativity, her love for the crafts

You love her weapons, and love that she builds and collects them

What you love less, however, is that she has a habit of leaving them out

And not only in the armory, out of their assigned spots

Not even only in her room, which is more like a battlefield with sickles and swords, axes and daggers scattered across the ground and the desks

No, your girlfriend instead leaves her weapons all around the castle for everyone to stumble into

Such as today

Admittedly, you were a little careless today, a little spaced out, not very conscious of your actions…admittedly, she told you not to be that at the castle

But, your little hypocrite of a girlfriend is just that, too!

Only has she never had an accident like this…

If she did, you’d regret not having it on camera

You open the closet, half humming to yourself, half zoned out

That is, until one of the weapons she stupidly forgot in there falls

She’s likely shut the closet with the weapon leaning against its door, careless as usual, or perhaps waiting for a maid to open her little death trap next

Instead, it’s you

You hiss and flinch away, yelling in all; surprise, anger, shock, fear and pain as your arm is sliced open

Blood drips from it and you immediately slap your palm across the cut, gritting your teeth at the searing pain

Not lethal, but likely to leave a scar

And still, your scream and the scent of your blood immediately attracts attention

When Cassandra swarms inside, you briefly allow yourself to think of grabbing the damn sickle and whacking it across her head, before grasping her shoulders and shaking her until your little troublemaker of a girlfriend begins to clean up her things

Countless times have you told her to be more careful!

To stop leaving her sharp tools everywhere!

By the look in your eye, the open closet and the sickle on the ground she immediately figures out what must have happened

In her eyes, you find worry, mixed with guilt and embarrassment

She knows, she’s about to get an earful and you aren’t likely to let her off the hook for that one anytime soon

She attempts to shoot you a smile, and while normally you’d return it, the pain has you only scowl at her in a mix of annoyance, love, and anger

You decide, she caused this

And she will fix it

Naturally

“Down”, you groan, clutching the bleeding cut on your arm

With surprising submission, she falls to her knees, her eyes wide and a surprised gasp falling from her lips when you press your arm to her face

It doesn’t even take a second for her to latch on

Gently, she pries your skin away to lick at the blood, her tongue slow and steady, her movements careful rather than bloodthirsty and wild

She knows, she isn’t really allowed to feed from you now

She’s meant to fix her mistake, so long as she doesn’t want to sleep on the cold side of the bed, something she detests, when her favorite spot is on top of you

Nonetheless, your girlfriend is moaning at your taste immediately, rolling her eyes subtly when you ramble on and scold her

You roll your eyes back at her playfully

You can’t truly be angry at her, not when her tongue and teeth are already working wonders at numbing the throbbing pain in your arm

You allow her to work on the wound for what feels like half an hour, sending flies onto the skin here and there

You aren’t entirely willing to think about their spit on you, but appreciate it when you feel your skin first tingle, then pull together slightly again

At the very least, your loving sadist knows how to treat wounds

Daniela

Some might call you clumsy

“Some” including your girlfriend and her sisters, and perhaps even yourself, if you swallow down your pride

And really, it doesn’t take all that much for you to get into trouble

Especially with your girlfriend, trouble is pretty much on the menu each day

What clumsiness you have, your girlfriend often adds to with her carelessness

As such, there have been countless incidents of running through the castle and slipping on some of the blood she carelessly spilled in the halls

Or the times she left her weapons out

Now that, is disaster waiting to happen

Often, more often than you’d like to admit, you end up injuring yourself with them somehow

Such as today

You’re racing past the halls again, eager to find your girlfriend

You know just where, too

The library, her favorite spot on a cool day like this

You giggle at the thought of her curled up by the fire, cuddled up among countless pillows and such

As you daydream, you begin to pay less and less attention to where you’re going

Or rather, what’s in your way

As such, you don’t see the sharp blade of her favourite sword sticking out of the vase in your way until the last second

And as such, your happiness is quickly interrupted when you catch a glimpse of it and quickly try to dodge it

Only does “dodging it” mean stumbling over your legs, failing to catch yourself on the railing of the stairs and tumbling down

The worst?

This isn’t the first time you accidentally fell down the stairs to the main hall

As you clutch your hip in pain, you can’t help but think:

You can’t let Cassandra and Bela know of this. Their teasing would never end!

Daniela though…surely she can keep her mouth shut if you confide in her

Besides, the ugly bruise on your hip should be treated

And who better to treat it than your lover?

When you find her, she’s over the moon to see you

She immediately abandons her blankets and pillows, books and snacks to wrap her arms around you

Still, worry, then humor glistens in her eyes when you wince a little once her hand connects with your hip

It seems, it only takes her a few moments to figure out what must have happened

Or at the very least that you got yourself into trouble again

You roll your eyes as she giggles, allowing her to lead you to her spot among the books

Below you is a thick, fluffy blanket, surrounding you and supporting your head are perfect pillows

You feel yourself starting to relax already, slowly lifting your shirt to expose the forming bruise at your hip

She coos a little at it

Then, a kiss is placed to it, and you can’t help but smile again

You will always take your girlfriend kissing your wounds better

Stroking her hair and relaxing against the pillows, you feel her teeth gently sink into the skin around the bruise

Never too much, nor too deep

Just right

Just enough for your skin to tingle and throb a little

You whisper a little, speaking of what happened

And she listens, only occasionally hums against your skin or presses kisses to it

Soon, you feel your hip calm again, instead she moves on top of you

“Want me to kiss it better some more?”, she asks, a sly grin forming at her lips

How could you refuse?

#cassandra dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #⚔️📎 anon

124 notes · View notes

dekusleftsock · 7 months ago

Text

I think that there’s a fundamental misunderstanding of what exactly is…happening with Izuku’s character. Specifically in regards to chapter 425.

I’m glad that a lot more people generally recognize that Izuku is not a character that can be read at a surface level, given that he’s both a repressed person with built up emotion of basically everything and also a very glaringly HUGELY unreliable narrator, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I agree with the ways I’ve seen this most recent chapter spoken about.

I see posts, comments, etc with ideas like “Izuku don’t suppress your emotions! Open up with people! It’ll be okay I promise!” When that’s fundamentally not what is happening here.

There’s always always ALWAYS been a distinct difference in character throughout horikoshi’s writing when he is showing that a character is:

A—Avoiding emotions, thoughts, ideas less than ideal for them. Not opening up when they probably should about their problems given that they’ve been handed the space to do so. Just genuinely not acknowledging, feeling, or expressing emotions that they don’t want.

B—Reflecting on the ways they feel about the world, themselves, or other people given their new perspective on a situation. Not outright reaching out to others to talk about these problems/feelings, but instead waiting until the moment they feel they have the most confidence to do so with their new outlook on their own life.

And genuinely, guys, to grab your BkDk attention rn, this is the exact reason why Ochako’s reflection on her feelings for Izuku and thereafter decision to pull away from them WAS NEVER GOING TO END IN OCHAKO EXPLODING WITH HER LOVE FOR HIM.

This was another common interpretation I saw of Ochako and Izuocha for a long time. That because she pushed these feelings away, they were somehow going to explode in this unbelievable way and she would “get the boy” because of it. That her arc would surround accepting her romantic feelings and that she can’t just push away how she feels for a career.

But yk. That didn’t happen. At all. Nowhere close even.

The same kind of goes for Katsuki, allmight, etc. They all had moments in their arc where it was spent genuinely reflecting, and the only reason we as the audience never connected it in the same ways we do ochako or Izuku was ALWAYS BECAUSE the narrative showed their inner thoughts while doing so (mostly because Allmight’s arc after losing OFA and Katsuki’s arc on what it means to be a hero were so intrinsically tied, both starting at the same time and ending at the same time during the final war. And because they were so tied this caused their own reflections, development, and thought process to be broadcasted to us frequently throughout their arcs… to each other. They also somewhat shared aspects with Izuku, but these were cherry picked more often than not, like dvk2 for example).

To us Katsuki never seemed to be.. idk, suppressing his anger in any way because we were always told what he was doing and why (side note: this is why I’ve always thought arguments against Katsuki were so weird, bc unlike characters like endeavor or Ochako he wasn’t like… hiding who he was and how he was changing. Ever. Like the audience knows at all times past basically season 3 what Katsuki is thinking and doing. Like how do you watch this happen, stare me dead in the eye, and tell me how much of a terrible and awful teenage boy he is. Like damn I didn’t think we were this dumb. This is also my theory as to why he’s most popular, his arc is very… in your face if that makes sense). Katsuki’s entire mini arc on reflecting his mistakes and his childhood and his future is spent TELLING YOU that it’s what he’s doing. (I’m referring mostly to the endeavor internship arc, the provisional license exam makeup, and basically everything in the war arc related to him leading up to bakugou Katsuki rising here)

And see, Horikoshi will stare you dead in the eye, tell you “this girl has taken into consideration that she doesn’t want to waste her time training her career focusing on a boy because he kinda caught her fancy”, and y’all will still say that this will explode in her face.

Y’all this is a series about learning how to manage emotions, maturity in relationship to one’s emotions, how to feel an emotion, but in a way that is helpful. Horikoshi isn’t telling you “go buck wild, feel everything all the time and always express it”, in fact he explores why you DONT do that! Through Toga or Shigaraki, they show how grief and anger can genuinely consume you. But he also shows why you shouldn’t just put everything in a box to never look at or acknowledge, or why you shouldn’t just let your grief destroy the world around you, or pretending that some emotions simply don’t exist.

I can’t say this enough, so let me say it now, mha is about the extremes of your psyche. That you should control something, but not too much. Everything can be harmful. Everything can be good.

Izuku is not controlling too much, he’s expressing just enough.

I LOVE shaming this dickhead at all times in all my posts. I love saying he’s an ignorant dipshit with a weird amount of distaste for a girl who just confessed to him. I’ve joked that chapter 348 is basically an entire chapter spent on Izuku calling Himiko a mean dyke. And yet I also believe he’s doing nothing WRONG here.

In fact, I’ll even say that this moment right here?

ISNT EVEN IZUKU DOING THE SOCIALLY APPROPRIATE THING ABOUT IT! But he’s still TRYING to reach out to someone he thinks MIGHT be able to understand. (And frankly, this moment is far deeper than what it’s being made out to be, to me it reads more like an unrequited friendship that Izuku both desires and has thought of them to have, while simultaneously showing the distance Ochako has successfully wedged between them for her own sake. Maybe it was always there though, maybe in weird, miscommunicated Horikoshi fashion, this is a representation of how Ochako always read all those “fun friend hangouts” as a little more than that, and without those feelings the friendship never really held any substance to her in the first place. Where Izuku saw his first real friend at UA, she saw little more than acquaintance)

Simultaneously, Izuku is genuinely reflecting on what it means for the world to change, to be a hero, to live after loss—and trying and failing to gain the connection he desires from individuals who can not and will not afford him that.

Izuku is ready for the world to change, a few select characters are also ready for the world to change (mirio, for example), but not nearly enough are. So maybe I’ll have to take this back if I’m proven wrong and I accidentally looked into this far past what everyone else did for no reason, but I genuinely believe with moments like this

And this

Aand this

That Izuku has come forward with that aspect of his character development. He’s reflecting on his new beliefs, not repressing his emotions for them.

#bkdk #I will also say that while Izuku did do a bit of a fake smile and attitude for Katsuki’s breakdown last chapter #he gets a bit of an excuse for that suppression. theres a time and place to be strong for a friend. and while izuku didn’t exactly say ALL-#the right things or think the right thoughts… he still imo fits into control your heart within that moment #you can ‘be strong’ for someone who’s sad or anxious without you being out to be an ultra suppressive self hating boy man #in that moment katsuki probably would’ve needed that if izuku had said literally anything else but ‘I’m glad I had this dream while it-#lasted!’ and ‘your probably just feeling very weird right now’… DUDE I CANNOT KEEP DEFENDING YOUR ASS #midoriya izuku #mha deku #bakudeku #bkdk brainrot #bnha deku #bakugou katsuki #mha analysis #deku midoriya #last side note lmao: I’ve done like five drafts for this and if this one isn’t good enough hopefully someone better than me can remake this #or I’ll make this at a later time when more things come out #I just knew I wanted this out before the next chapter leaks #which are probably tonight lolllll #oh and I proof read like 80% of this so y’all are getting what you fucking get

156 notes · View notes

azurem · 29 days ago

Note

I like to think the one time he asked ink what each color did ink dodged the question by laughing at him like he asked something silly. Ink has no reason not to tell him outright really (besides that it's fun watching him figure them out one at a time) but that it's funny to not tell him. Almost like he's playing dumb or hard to get except chaotically just to poke fun at him. Like "Oh you wanna know? You wanna know so bad it makes you look stupid? Hehe ohohohoho hehe. Wouldn't you like to know?" He says, akin to someone dangling feathers over their cat that wants to eat them so bad.

JJSJSJSJS NOOOO INKKKKK I can def see it though. I imagine most of the difficulty in guessing the colors' effects is because Ink either uses them as balancers (aka, he drinks all the colors in small sips to keep himself not leaning much towards one emotion), as triggers (if he really has to act mad to attack, he forces the emotion out of him by drinking bonus red he doesn't need; which is why Nightmare knows what red does) or as complementaries (aka, if he's in a very happy situation the yellow gets used more easily, so he drinks more yellow. Which is why Nightmare knows what pink and yellow does)

Even then, I think the knowledge of what each color does is lowkey. Obsolete? Useless?? Like Nm, at this point, wouldn't try to force Ink to feel one emotion (which is so funny to think about if you think about his negativity aura/the fact it can't affect Ink) but its still. Fun to guess. Cuz they're close enough Nightmare has the possibility to guess and be mostly right and. Idk. Evil stuff

#ask #utmv #undertale au #sans undertale #ink sans #undertale #nightmare sans #inkmare #nightink #sanscest #zu yapping #i think itd be funny if there were color effects ink didn't know of JSJSJS #hed be just like hm. yea sure lets drink. this one.#more colors the better heck yea #and nm is like #oh? discombobulation today?#and ink just looks at him with dead eyes #headcanon

62 notes · View notes

chasedeys · 1 month ago

Note

Okay all of these guys working together to lie and spread false narratives (to varying degrees of success) is a sight to see. And now I'm just thinking about if Joe and Ja'Marr really were in a secret relationship that somehow got leaked, and the three of them (because of course Tee's included) have to deal with media about it and all of them are trying desperately to stick to the story that Joe and Ja'Marr are just friends! And it obviously does not work at all 😂

the entire bat saga is soooo funny 😭 these dumbasses are really genuinely shamelessly (well joe and ja'marr are while tee is...doing his best) pretending that they've never once in their lives talked about joe buying a batmobile 😭 i mean they did expand on the hell yeah tee is cosplaying as batman in the club (a whole other stupid thing they've somehow managed to drag themselves into) and ja'marr said he isn't driving that car but he'll take a pic and joe said he didn't really expect the batmobile thing to be aired etc so they aren't fully pretending the car doesn't exist so there's that but still! why would they LIE upfront 😭

and it's fascinating to me how joe and ja'marr can lie so well without tripping up when first asked (ja'marr with the extra shit eating grin after every lie like he knows they know he's lying but he's probably got explicit permission from joe to lie this time so he's milking it like crazyy) and then comparing these two master perjurers to tee losing his smile immediately and floundering before looking down and quietly saying he doesn't know what they're talking about save himmmm from those two's weird hangups oml 😭 also him being the one to get called out 'wow, so you're all playing dumb'?? he's not the one you should pin this on!! let him lie terribly in peace!!!!!! 100% believe he's innocent and just getting dragged into Shenanigans. again joe probably asked them to keep their mouths shut and ja'marr was instantly on board 'alright bet.' while tee is still sending multiple lines of '??????' to their little gc.

moving on to the joemarr of it all lmao if they just got together instead of during lsu they would be so shit at hiding it. i mean sure i can see them hiding it ridiculously well too but i can also see them just. being so fucking enamored with each other past the usual lines (that they've outright danced on in the past btw) that people have to take a pause and. idk reevaluate. but also: they're absolutely shameless (see: beat for beat i don't know what you're talking about and he bought a batmobile?) and their ability to gaslight the media climbs a whole new otherworldly level.

just ja'marr! sweet little romantic in his feelings ja'marr who once cried to titanic and any other highly emotional situations and has one hundred and one billion nicknames for his in-game girlfriends (he thinks he's us rpf enjoyers smh) would not be able to keep all that love and romance in his not insignificantly sized body from pouring out of him it's impossible not to clock when things change between them and how ja'marr is loose on the tongue for whatever he calls joe graghhhhhhhh definitely several instances of calling joe 'his boy' but in a completely different way than the way he's been saying lol.

and joe.........his faceeeeeeeeee do you get me. getting asked about ja'marr and his face flips! no he won't be smiling insanely like he does at times but his barely-there smiles people have to squint to see just bloom out wider to actual unmistakable ones often enough that people will do side by side comparisons of 'joe talking about his stats' 'joe talking about ja'marr's stats' or 'joe talking about his career game' 'joe talking about ja'marr's random comment on the weather'.

tee getting asked about these two in any form be it so are they acting weird to you or a completely normal what do you think about their latest touchdown and he trips and starts speaking tongues. i don't think he actually sucks at lying but. when people ask him to hide a particular thing for them he starts sweating 😭 and this is about his bestfriends' relationship that he cares a whole lot about so after every nerve wracking interview he stomps up to them and slugs them in the arm because he deserves to damn it. in their big ages really??

and sorry if I'm making this into crack technically but:

all the things that would be the funniest shit ever that the media notes -> 'Bengals Star QB Joe Burrow Drives Teammate Ja'Marr Chase Home from Practice 9th Week In A Row' or 'Breaking News! Spotted: Joe Burrow and Ja'Marr Chase Feeding Giraffes Together at Cincinnati Zoo!' or 'Ja'Marr Chase Buys Couple Rings from Cartier?! Here's 5 Possible Ring Fingers to Match His!' or 'Bengals Blowout?! Starters Joe Burrow and Ja'Marr Chase Bro-Hugging in the Sidelines in 4th Quarter Show Down!' and the lone 'Historians Would Call Them Close Friends: Why Our Humble Gossip Rag Think These Two are Fucking'

thinking of a reporter asking joe on wearing ja'marr's game day jacket for his post game pressers 'is that ja'marr's?' 'yeah mine got shredded by tigers in the locker room so.' or asking ja'marr about their long huddle all pressed up together during practice for his post practice presser 'what were you talking about?' 'oh, joe's thinking of moving to the arctic to be a penguin farmer so we were just discussing logistics.'

asking tee for whatever reason about the two showing up with matching ice for a game and him visibly freezing before rebooting and saying yeah i think their moms are in on it for some luck idk and boom everyone is calling how their moms are invested in their friendship adorable.

also hence the historians would call them close friends/teammates article going viral. sometimes their teammates quote innocuous stuff from the article leading to everyone on any social media app typing expletives in their little post box calling them baiters. mike gesicki looking straight into the camera saying yeah they're just such close friends you know I've asked them a couple times about getting matching stuff with my wife and chase overhearing this slams into his locker to break down into tears.

if there are any players podcasts like the kelces or deebos or the st. browns or micahs fucking bleacherreport ass podcast actually talking about it that would be the funniest thing out of this entire thing. talking about it on espn.....ocho......ryan clark.......all these sports news anchors who i know nothing about...........

#ask #there are no penguins in the arctic btw. and you can't farm penguins i don't think..#also had tremendous fun thinking up headlines wkwkkwk #the bro-hugging is cuddling btw #my writing #i now no longer care what i put in that tag so bear with me :)#joe burrow #ja'marr chase #tee higgins #joemarr

45 notes · View notes

electraslight · 9 months ago

Note

What did you think of the mutation Kevin arc in season three of alien force?

I liked a lot of aspects of it. I think it was a good decision to remind people that Kevin has issues beyond being a con man, because season one and two of alien force, while I love them, very much erased kevins long history of mental illness, addiction, and violence, as well as honestly not giving him much of an arc. Plus I think the mutation was a really good way to explore how kevin actually feels about being mutated when not being corrupted. It was a great concept! I just feel like a lot of things around it were flawed. First, I don't like the decision to make a 16 year old boy wear that little clothing for a whole series. Yes, I know he's supposed to look like metamorpho man, but then you think about charmcaster grooming him and that really strange bit in trade off where they tried to imply that the energy transfer was a rape allegory- not a good time to have him almost naked. Second, gwen and ben were AWFUL to him. Gwevin fans idk how you can just gloss over how many times she outright states he's hideous when, let's be real, he's a pretty, muscular boy who's only abnormality is that he's carved out of materials. Ben sucks in general and everyone knows that but no one talks about how much gwen sucked too. I think the resolution was pretty dumb too. Why did destroying the omnitrix affect anything about Kevin's mutation? It wasn't attached to him or constantly feeding him energy, so realistically he would have dropped the transformation within a few days. Dumb shit. You can really notice the change in quality from s1 and 2 and s3. But kevins my waifu and I'll never complain about getting more of him,so I digress. Here's a dumb screenshot redraw, thanks for listening to my rant.

#ben 10 #ben 10 omniverse #ben 10 alien force #ben tennyson #ben 10 ultimate alien #ben 10 classic #kevin levin #ben ten #gwen tennyson

104 notes · View notes

deliciouskeys · 5 months ago

Text

Beware the Patient Woman (my foray into Sagelander)

This is set right after season 4. I don’t address anything beyond Sagelander. Ashley disappeared. Ryan is presumed returned to Vought Tower, maybe staying in a different room while they have to renovate Homelander’s apartment top to bottom. This is either a standalone or a chapter 1, idk. Had to get it out of my system. Rated PG cause I'm lazy/ a coward? (for now). AO3 link.

Sage may not have x-ray vision but she can tell who’s behind the door by the sound of the knock before she opens it. She didn’t have time to change out of her pajamas, but at least she was awake.

"May I come in?" he asks, peering down at her before his eyes start roving around the room.

"Of course," she says, even though she was looking forward to lying around in bed before having to put her suit on and trot out to the board meetings.

"Sorry, I know it’s early. I couldn’t really sleep last night." He walks in, almost brushing past her, arms clasped behind his back and hidden by the American flag cape billowing slightly behind him, so close that she has to lean back slightly to avoid getting an eagle beak to the face. But he didn’t mean disrespect by it, just distracted by looking all around the room.

"This was so much emptier when Maeve lived here," he remarks, stepping around various small pieces of furniture, nearly all stacked with books.

"I’m sure she needed the space to practice her combat techniques."

"Yeah or her drinking or her threesomes. I’m not sure she had the attention span to read a book in her life," he mumbles angrily, and Sage doesn’t like where this conversation is going at all. She knew there might be a downside to being given the room where Homelander’s old flame used to live.

"Did you want to discuss something?" she says, trying to keep any impatience out of her voice.

He turns around sharply to face her. "I really wanted to thank you for… everything that happened yesterday. I couldn’t even articulate how grateful I was for what you did for me."

For him, he thinks, despite her telling him point-blank that she did it to see if she could. But she was banking on his gratitude and on the high value he places on loyalty.

"You’re so very welcome. But I only did what you hired me to do," she says, cautiously, hoping this will emphasize that she may not necessarily have any interest in going beyond what she was hired to do. Maintaining boundaries with a man like this was always important.

"No, no." One of his hands emerges from behind his back to wag a finger at her. "Don’t play dumb with me. You know what I’m talking about. You did what I hired you to do, sure, but you did it even after I dismissed you. I’m not stupid, Sage. I know you could have used that brain of yours to fuck me thrice over and get revenge for how badly I treated you. I admit, I underestimated you. I did a dangerous thing, letting you go, when you were my best ally all along. So I… I know you could have made things worse for me, but you chose to side with me anyway. I was absolutely wrong about you, and it won’t happen again. I will listen to you, like I promised."

Sage hesitates. He’s saying all the right things, but these hollow promises aren’t worth much when they’ll fall to the wayside the next time he gets fed up with her. No, he’s leading up to something, and she’s wary of what might come next, so she’s not sure how she should reply to steer the conversation away.

"That’s good to hear. And no hard feelings, trust me."

Homelander nods. "Yeah, trust. I do want to ask you one thing. It’s just… I do trust you, but could I just ask you to keep me in the loop? No more lies?"

"I don’t think I ever outright lied to you," Sage answers, taking a deep breath, trying to keep her breath steady. Was this human powderkeg about to explode again? She thought she had him placated for at least a few weeks, but maybe she’s miscalculating just how paranoid he is. It's hard to feel completely calm when he's standing over her, forcing her to tilt her face upwards to meet his gaze.

"Well I’m including lying by omission," he says, but then his expression changes, softens strangely, and he steps back as if realizing that he's been looming over her. "I’m sorry, you’re misunderstanding, I didn’t come here to threaten you in any way. I just wanted to… maybe just establish best practices, going forward."

Shit, her heart rate must have spiked, finally given away that she was getting nervous. "Oh yeah, I understand. I appreciate that. Let’s discuss that."

Homelander shakes his head, wincing. "Look, I really don’t mean to dictate how you should work. I realize I’m doing it automatically. I’m catching myself telling you what to do again. I respect that you might not want to tell me everything– I do. I’ll be honest, it is a blow to the ego, and I’m not used to it, because… well you’ve seen the caliber of idiots that I've had to deal with. I’m not used to trusting someone else."

He looks … unsure of himself? Is he genuinely apologetic? Sage is so reluctant to interpret anything he says as benign and without ulterior motives, but it’s tempting to believe him right now. She’s really at a loss for words, content to let him just keep talking and explain himself.

"So… I take back everything I said," Homelander mutters, his mouth folding even thinner as soon as he says it. "I trust you so much that I allow you to lie by omission. But if I ask you something, I’d really like a straight answer. Call it my weakness. I’m not a details guy. I’m not aspiring to look over your shoulder and micromanage your plans. But I just- I just need a little something in return for the trust. I need to be able to check in once in a while and know you won’t lie to my face."

Sage can’t believe she’s getting to watch this man wrestle with himself, threatening to spiral out while trying to define what’s important to him and what’s reasonable to ask of her. He’s debating with himself with only the barest input from her. She needs to nip this in the bud. She’s never felt that comfortable seeing him cry, and she doesn’t want things to get to that point, where she’ll have to comfort him instead of just reassuring him. "Hey listen. I love working with you. You’re giving me the opportunity of a lifetime. I’ll gladly discuss plans with you if you’re really interested in the boring details." Maybe she’s overselling it a bit, but he looks like he recovers his poise at least.

"Anyway, that’s not even what I came here to ask you." he says, his tone sounding more like his usual self. "I wanted to invite you out for dinner. Just as a small token of appreciation- ah-ah! Nope!" he says, raising his hand as she tries to interrupt him. "Don’t say no before you hear the proposition. I found out you like sushi."

Sage’s blood runs a little cold at hearing him know something about her that she doesn’t think she ever revealed to anybody on staff at Vought.

"I located your mother and asked her a little about you over the phone last night," he says, as if guessing the question in her mind. Of course he did. He probably thinks that gives him leverage over her. Well, joke’s on him, because she hasn’t been in much contact with her mom, they haven’t gotten along since she was a teenager, and she’s not going to be manipulated by him threatening her mom. But her mom is right that she likes sushi.

"Oh yeah?" Sage asks, summoning a genuine looking smile to her face because she’s not sure how well he can tell when her mind starts running at triple speed when she’s feeling pressure. "I do love me some sushi. And I haven’t tried that many places since moving here, because it’s been so busy."

"Great!" he says, and now his smile looks genuine too, the fleeting reference to her family thankfully fading out of their conversation. "I’ve rented out this place called Masa night. You’re gonna love it. Three Michelin stars and all that. Best sushi in New York."

"Yeah, tonight works," Sage says, hoping it’s not too rude to imply that his setting her daily schedule for her is overstepping, his certainty that she’s going to love hanging out with him is overstepping.

"Usually I wouldn’t put you through the hassle of going out, just have the chefs come to work at the Vought kitchen and host it at my place, but you know… my place is a bit of a disaster zone right now and yours… well I don’t wanna disturb your little setup you’ve got going on here."

Yes, there’s a problem she needs to solve as soon as possible brewing here. She’s very fucking glad she’s not being invited to dinner at his place. "So is there a dress code? Do I have to wear my superhero suit?"

Homelander scoffs. "I’ve rented it out. No paps, no photos. You can come in whatever you damn well please. Wear sweatpants if you want. This is all for you!" He smiles again, and it’s really genuine, and now she’s concerned that her fears are true. In his mind, this is a date.

"Just you and me?" she verifies, and when he nods she takes a deep breath and says something risky, but better now than later. "Just so you know– I don’t really do romantic relationships. I’ve slept with a couple of members of the Seven, but you don’t strike me as the kind of person who would want to get in on that action."

Homelander blinks, clearly taken aback. "It’s just dinner with a colleague," he says, but his tone is halting. "I don’t- that’s none of my business what you do in your free time with-" he licks his lips and Sage tries to guess what bothers him most about this. "Were you sleeping with A-Train? Is that how you knew?"

"No, I don’t mix work and pleasure like that." Sage can’t help but laugh a little. "I can tell you with whom. ‘No more secrets’, right? Noir and the Deep."

Sage can practically hear the wheels in Homelander’s head turning as he tries to picture it. "Huh," he says. "Well that’s uh… your prerogative certainly." Is that hurt in his voice? Maybe disbelief that she’d fuck people he considers far beneath him?

"Exactly. I assumed that someone like you would have no problem with workplace hookups," she says, shrugging. "Being part of the Seven isn’t really a normal gig. It’s so full-time, it’s your entire life. Might as well get some fun out of it."

"Yeah, makes sense," he mutters, trailing off, still thinking.

"So tonight then? What time?" she asks.

He snaps out of his thoughts. "I rented it out for the entire evening. So anytime from five onward. Up to you."

"Seven then?" she says. He nods and walks out stiffly. Sage shuts the door and leans back against it. She has to navigate this right. This overpowered manchild doesn’t have a good track record of keeping work and pleasure separate, but she can’t rebuff him in a way that insults him. She thought she was in the clear– that someone like her would never attract that kind of attention from him. She needed to be smart about this.

#idk what this is- something that came into my brain after seeing that scene between them in the finale #sagelander #homelander #sister sage #i always tag sister sage and i never call her that lol #unbetaed written on the fly #the boys #the boys tv #mystuff #fic

59 notes · View notes