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gloomskulls · 7 months ago

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚LIMERENCE [tasm!peter parker]

pairings: tasm!peter parker x reader

part 2

⇢ ˗ˏˋ SUMMARY ୨୧ 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

⇢ ˗ˏˋ WARNING ୨୧ obessive peter, creep peter, stalking, masturbation, panty sniffing, dirty thoughts, breaking in, just peter being hopelessly in love. If any of this finds you uncomfortable, please click out do yourself (and me also) a favor. 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: my first ever fic posted on Tumblr, yippee! This is also my first ever smut so it probs be equivalent to horse poo but anyways, this also takes place in tasm 2. don't steal any of the shit I've written or else i'm gonna turn you into Vicky from Terrifier/srs

Peter didn't understand what was so special about you, you were just a crush. Or that's what he convinced himself. Every single place you were in, Peter would carefully trail behind you, like there was a magnet strapped onto you, and Peter was the metal, he would always find himself drawing next to you. Peter Parker was no stranger to keeping secrets. It was, after all, the epitome of his double life. A mask, a costume, a name that wasn't his at all. There was one secret, however, that even the Spider-Man's mask couldn't cover—his growing infatuation towards you.

It started out really simple. You decided to give back the nerdy boy's pencil in sophomore year and defended him from Flash Thompson in his junior year, it was all simple really, something a person with decency and was taught with proper manners would do. But Peter took it as more than that.

Candid photos here and there, purposefully falling of his skateboard so you would help him, cryptic notes in your locker, sometimes a random flower if Peter was lucky to find any.

Limerence, as some might say

The first people who would ever notice Peter's strange behavior where the people who raised him. Uncle Ben would notice this girl in the screen of his nephew's computer, so did Aunt May when she saw many polaroid photos of the same face underneath Peter's bed. Peter shrugged it off, saying the same exact words to the both of them.

'she's just a crush'

Peter Parker was very good at being hidden in the open. Sure, he didn't want to be invisible, but it is what it is. One of the self-working "losers" with horrible punchlines and pretty much the face screaming "nerd". Well, it didn't bother Peter much. He had many other more important things to think about. You

It's been years now. It was already the last year of senior year, graduation was already nearing, still, he hasn't mustered up the courage to do speak to you, afraid that you won't reciprocate the same feelings he has. His been watching you from a distance, stealing glances in class and making mental notes on all the little things you did, like doodling on the corners of your notebooks or, how you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were concentrating. He knew that it was weird, creepy even, but Peter couldn't stop himself.

So, when Mr. Warren announced a paired project for biology, Peter's internal monologue kicked into overdrive.

"Pair work begins today," Mr. Warren said, his smile a gruff overture that still Peter thought unnecessary. "Choose your partners wisely, just choose somebody you will along with. You can really screw up over this project if you don't!"

The room broke out into a low buzz as students shuffled their chairs and moved toward their friends. Peter didn't move. He never did. Choosing a partner was like finding a needle in a haystack type of task for him

Alright, Pete, it is not such a big deal. You are not going to end up with her or anything. Just relax, find someone cool, and—

"Peter!"

Your voice broke through his thoughts, and he looked up to see you in front of his desk, clutching a notebook to your chest

"By any chance do you have a partner? My friends kind of made their own pairs" you asked, your lips curving into an easy smile.

Peter blinked. His brain short-circuited.

"N-nope. I'm totally solo. Flying solo. A lone wolf. A…"

"Awesome! Then let's team up."

Peter turned to you, his mind racing, he blinked, trying to absorb this. You were choosing him? He nodded frantically; his heart was hammering at a top speed that he was convinced you could hear it

You smiled at him, you fucking smiled at him

For the rest of the class Mr. Warren instructed everyone to plan for the project for the rest of the class. You kept bouncing ideas back and forth, and Peter felt a strange, thrilling sensation of in his heart. You were funny, clever, and surprisingly very easy to communicate with. Every time you laughed at one of his jokes, he felt like he was soaring.

When the bell rang, you packed your things and turned to him. "We should work on this at my place. Tomorrow after school?"

Peter nearly dropped his notebook. "Uh, yeah. Totally. I mean, yes. That works. Perfect. So super normal."

You laughed again. "Cool. Here's my address."

And with that, you scribbled it on a scrap of paper and handed it to him before walking away, leaving Peter frozen in his seat.

That night, Peter was sitting in his room staring at the address. To most people, that was just a little detail, probably not even worth a second thought. But to Peter, it was an invitation, or perhaps a key, even just for a second to get into your life. To know every little thing about you

Unfortunately, though, that's not enough.

He felt his hands shaking as he opened the drawer in his desk to reveal a small trove of hidden treasures; poorly taken pictures of you from a distance, bits of paper that you had thrown away during math class, and a small stash of hair strands that he meticulously collected from your hair comb when you weren't looking

This was love, wasn't it? The desperate consuming desire to be around her, to know everything about you.

And tomorrow, he shall get his chance.

You invited him, but Peter just knew it was really more than what you would ever willingly give.

His love was a web, and you were stepping into it, one delicate thread at a time.

Peter stood outside your house with a crumpled piece of paper clutched in his rather sweaty hand. The address on it was correct, but doubt clouded him. What if she had forgotten about this meeting? What if this was simply a joke? No, she would never do that, he tried to convince himself

Peter Parker was standing at your porch. Each thump of his heart sounded like one of the drums in the music club. He raised his hand to knock, hesitating for a moment. Maybe it was a terrible idea to come here after all; he could fake being sick, sending her an apology while rescheduling. Just then, the door swung open before he even had the chance to run.

"Hey, you found my house, I actually thought you would get lost cause I wrote the wrong color of the rooftop on the note" you said while stepping aside to let him enter.

"I was actually hesitant to knock, because it didn't look like the description" He quietly said. You actually got everything right, I was just being a huge pussy so I didn't come immediately, he thought to himself.

"Come in. I have started working on the diagram."

Peter plasted a grin and forced his legs down inside. "Well, look at you. Overachieving already. I guess I'll just sit back and let you do all the hard work."

You rolled your eyes and laughed, your voice making him feel that the world wasn't so bad after all. "Nice try, Parker. Grab a marker. You're on label duty."

"Come on, we can work in the dining area," you said, leading him across the house.

The dining table was already loaded with supplies, with textbooks scattered everywhere, colored pencils, sheets of poster paper, you name it. You positioned herself and gestured to him to join you.

You fell into a rhythm, your hand sketching the parts of the circulatory system while Peter scrawled out the labels in his neatest handwriting. He cracked jokes every few minutes, drawing out your laughter like a lifeline. It would be so easy to lose himself in the moment, pretend that you both were just two friends hanging out and not a guy hopelessly infatuated with someone who didn't even know half the truth about him.

Both of you had a relatively smooth first hour of working, few questions were asked here and there on the project. Peter kept his answers short, being extra cautious with what to share, but it seemed you did not mind. You sketched diagrams, jotting down notes with an ease that made Peter's hands tremble every time he made an attempt to help.

"So Peter," you suddenly announced after the silence, "why is it that you don't talk very much? At school I mean"

The question staggered him, rendering him blank while the colored pencil just hovered above the page.

Peter jerked up his head and looked surprised. "What do you mean? Talking is what I do. I mean, there's even people begging me to stop."

You smirked but didn't let it down. "I mean really, you're funny but I know nothing about you. What's your thing, Peter Parker?"

He didn't answer immediately but fiddled with the marker. "I'm just… some guy. Pretty boring, honestly. Not much to tell."

Your expression softened, "I don't buy that. You're not boring".

Your words made Peter's chest tighter. He wanted to believe you, yet the voice at the back of his mind reminded how wrong youwere. If you only knew the real him, the guy who had spent countless nights staring at your window, memorizing your every move, you wouldn't be smiling and sitting here before him.

"Hey, don't overthink it. You're cool. Let's just finish this masterpiece, okay?" you said, flicking his arm before he could answer.

Peter smiled forcedly

And when they finished the day's work, you walk him to the door once more, your smile as warm as ever.

"Thanks for coming over," you said. "You're actually a pretty decent partner, Parker."

"Decent?!" Peter gasped, clutching his chest in mock offense. "Wow. Don't hold back; tell me how you really feel."

And you laughed, shaking your head. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Peter waved. You waved back at him, as he strolled down the street, but he did not go very far. Instead, he found himself across the street in the same place, hidden under the shadow of the oak tree.

you were in your living room again, curled around a blanket and a pillow as you watched whatever was on your screen, your face glowing softly from the light of the television. Peter leaned against the tree with both hands shoved in his jacket pockets and simply watched.

How long he'd been there, he couldn't tell, but he didn't want to leave. This was the closest he ever felt with you, even if you didn't know he was here.

He knew this was crossing the line, but he couldn't help himself. He found himself sneaking into your house. Now he really felt like a robber trying to intrude a home, expect he wasn't really going to steal anything, or so he thought.

It was late at night, you and your family were already asleep at this point

Peter knew that the right thing to do was to head home. He knew for sure that this crossed a line even he wasn't sure he could come back from. But before he could stop himself, he was moving, slipping across the street and into the shadows of your yard.

His palms were slick with sweat as he scanned the side of the house. The metal trellis leading up to your window wasn't very solid, but it would hold him if he was careful.

He carefully climbed the trellis, not putting too much weight on it. And his heart was pounding as he got to your window, his fingers brushing against the cool glass.

It wasn't locked.

At that moment, his body froze. The rational part of him screamed to stop, to climb back down and pretend this never happened. But then his hand was on the window. And that soft sound of it sliding open seemed to be deafeningly loud in the stillness of the night.

He slipped into his feet and landed silently on the carpeted floor. Your room smelled of lavender and something warm and sweet like vanilla. A little bit of moonlight filtered through the curtains and brightened the room in pale silver.

There she was

You laid curled up in your bed, the blankets pulled up to your shoulders, your face peaceful in sleep. Peter’s breath caught in his throat. You looked so serene, so utterly perfect, that it made his chest ache.

He stood there for what felt like an eternity, just watching you. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to feel—satisfaction, maybe, or relief. But all he felt was a strange mix of awe and guilt.

This was wrong.

He knew it.

But he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

He looked around your room, it was full of polaroids of either you or your friends.

He started walking around your room quietly, careful to not wake you up in your slumber, because God knows what will happen if you saw him in your room with all its glory, he couldn't even imagine the disgust on your face.

But one thing caught his eye

Your bathroom was open, and in your bathroom was a basket with what he assumed inside were dirty laundry.

He knew it was disgusting, heck, over the top creep award would probably go to him, but he found himself walking towards the bathroom. It was wrong, but he still did it, he needs to get help, he thought to himself.

One second ago he was walking towards your bathroom, next thing you knew he was rummaging through your dirty laundry, occasionally smelling some of your shirts. He cherished the way your scent overwhelmed his nose, he was in Cloud 9.

While he was rummaging, a little piece of clothing caught his eye. With shaky hands he picked up the piece of clothing, it was your pink underwear with little cherries scattered everywhere as design.

He brought it near to his nose. He suddenly sat down in the neat cold tiles of the bathroom floor, he smelt it as if it was his oxygen.

He let out a small moan. He didn't know if it was an invisible force making him do such things, but he found his hands unbuttoning his pants

Peter Parker sat in the rest room; hand clasped tight around the lacy edge of the pink panty. He took out his hardened length of his boxers. The scent of dirty panties wafted his nose.

He imagined you wrapped around his throbbing cock, he thought of the feeling of your tight little pussy riding his cock, he wanted the sweet nectar from your lips, while having a feast on your quivering hole. His cock throbbed in his palms, his hands were much faster now, stroking his hardened cock. He had to bite his tongue to keep himself from moaning

Why was he doing this? You were literally there, outside the bathroom, sleeping. And Peter was here, out in the open, jerking off to the smell of your used panties

He was drenched in sweat as his hairs stuck to his wet forehead. He fantasized about your perky tits; perfect little nipples erect in anticipation. Pumping the shaft rapidly, imagining you on all fours begging for more, the bounce of your tits while riding him moaning his name like a mantra, Peter, fuck Peter, Peter, oh my God!

Peter was breathing heavily, his release was near, he profusely pumped his manhood, his hands and cock covered in his sticky pre-cum.

He wanted to feel you inside him, want you to quiver in pleasure as he fucks you over and over again.

He felt a sudden wave of pleasure hitting him, before he knew it, he released a flooded torrent of jizz into sticky cum as it scattered all over the floor. He slumped against the wall, heaving as he tried to steady his racing heart. He looked outside the door, finding you in the same spot as you were. You were sleeping oh so peacefully

He gazed at you, his heart full of unfulfilled yearning. He desperately wanted to be part of your world, to be someone you chose to let in. Yet no matter how many jokes he made or how close you seemed; he knew deep in his heart that he was not enough.

A soft sound broke the silence.

Peter's eyes snap to the bed, and his stomach lurch at the realization that you were stirring. Your brows knitted, your breathing started shifting, just as if you were going to wake up.

He immediately threw your panties back into the basket as he stood up and fixed his underwear and pants

He felt panic surging him, he immediately sprinted near the window. It made a loud a thud, now he was fucked

He moved quickly and quietly without thinking as he quietly ran towards the window. Just as you were about to opene your eyes, he slipped stealthily past the fluttering of curtains.

He tried scrambling down the trellis and found the ground, shivering and shaking as he did so.

He was hidden in a shadow corner, looking up towards your window. You were sitting up now, rubbing your eyes and looking around your room with a sleepy confusion.

Peter's chest tightened.

What's the matter with him?

He hurried as he turned away, his footsteps quiet against the pavement

The cool night air wrapped around Peter Parker like a cold, suffocating blanket as he walked back toward his house. Each step seemed to slant further and further as if his sneakers were scuffing wet against the cracked pavement in a slow and deliberate rhythm.

It was as if the world had gone still—entirely quiet. No cars were heard, no distant chatter, no hum of the city. Just Peter, the quiet whistle of wind through leaves, and the pounding thuds of his thoughts.

With that, he shoved his hands deep into his jacket pockets, his fingers curling into tight fists. Replaying the scene, he heard the soft sound of your breathing, the warmth of your room, and the way you stirred in your bed as if you had felt him there.

What the heck are you doing, Parker? He hadn't intended to climb into your room. He hadn't intended for it to get this far. Watching from the shadows was one thing, but tonight… tonight he had crossed a line.

He stopped moving and leaned against the lamppost, his breath escaping him in short, sharp gasps. Above him, the light flickered, shining unevenly across his shadow on the ground.

"This isn't me," he whispered to himself, the voice trembling.

But wasn't it?

Hadn't he been staring at you for years, taking notes while you weren't looking, memorizing all of your movements, laughter, and smiles? He had told himself that it was just harmless admiration from a distance, but now it was clear.

What would you think if you knew?

He sighed, Peter threw back his head and gazed up at the sky. Above him the stars, though cold and distant, seemed on to him— judging him in silence.

With the words of Uncle Ben echoing in his mind, With great power comes great responsibility, Peter winced.

Peter's jaw clamped down. Not great power; not yet. But wasn't all this part of it? Taking responsibility for his actions, owning up to his mistakes before they spiraled uncontrollably out of hand?

It hit him like a gut punch.

He wouldn't ever be able to take it back. Nor would he ever be able to wipe away the fact that he'd violated your space, your privacy, in a way you might never forgive. But he could stop it from going any further. He could ensure that you never found out.

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

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ducksido · 1 month ago

Note

Can I please request the Housewardens (and Sebek because underated) with a Reader who has crystal hair (similar to Idia's fire hair) and can control crystals? They can control what type of crystal they're using (emerald, diamond, ruby, amythist, ECT) and have to eat a lot so they can use their crystal magic.

(SEBEK 💗💗💗💗)

-Riddle Rosehearts

Rules first, awe second. At first, he tries to lecture you about proper table manners when you pile food onto your plate.

But the moment he sees you summon a rose quartz lance midair and shatter it into a glittering mist with a snap, he shuts up.

“I see… your magic is more demanding than I realized. I apologize for assuming.”

He's both fascinated and a little intimidated by your hair. Crystals constantly shifting, humming with magic—he studies it like a rare potion.

Once he learns the logic behind your magic, he’ll nag you to eat before you faint.

“Here. I prepared a snack box for you—high protein and sugar. Do not skip meals again.”

-Leona Kingscholar

“Tch. So that’s why you eat like a beast.”

He teases, but he watches closely when you form a sapphire wall to block an incoming attack in a training match.

He’s very interested in your defensive capabilities—thinks it could be useful in battle.

Leona’s laidback, but if he catches you pushing yourself too far without eating, he gets snappy.

“Oi. Dumb herbivore. Eat something before you pass out and make me carry you.”

Secretly fascinated by your hair—when sunlight hits it, it scatters light like a prism, and he stares longer than he means to.

-Azul Ashengrotto

Business brain immediately turns on.

“Your unique magic could have tremendous commercial potential—enchanting jewelry? Defense applications? Custom gemstone architecture?”

He’s polite and respectful, but you can tell he’s calculating. That is, until you casually eat three full entrees in one sitting.

“...I may have underestimated your maintenance costs.”

If you let him, he’ll work with you to develop a magical nutrition plan that helps recharge your magic efficiently.

Thinks your crystal hair is elegant and rare—he stares a bit too long, then coughs and adjusts his glasses.

-Kalim Al-Asim

“WHOA! You’re like a walking treasure!”

Immediately obsessed. He thinks your hair is the coolest thing ever and constantly asks what type of crystal you’re using today.

He’s rich, so food? Never a problem. He’ll host full banquets just to make sure you’re well-fed.

“You need to eat? Say no more, friend! JAMIL!!”

You accidentally conjure a ruby chandelier once during a magic accident. He insists on keeping it.

Thinks your magic is beautiful, sparkly, and amazing—and his genuine admiration makes your heart flutter.

-Vil Schoenheit

He notices your hair before anything else. “Your look is… ethereal. Artificial beauty made natural.”

You thought he’d think your ever-shifting crystal hair was gaudy, but he loves the way it refracts light—wants to photograph you in golden hour lighting.

He’s critical of your eating habits if they're chaotic, but he understands the need to eat a lot.

“Fine. If you’re going to eat like that, at least eat right. I’ll have Rook prepare a crystal-magic-friendly diet plan.”

Surprisingly supportive of your magic—he views it as powerful and aesthetically stunning.

Secretly envious of your “natural accessories.”

-Idia Shroud

You both have weird hair. Instant bond.

He’s obsessed with your crystal magic—spends hours researching gemstone conductivity and magical resonance.

“W-wait, you can generate amethyst spikes? That’s so OP�� Like, SR-level OP.”

You two have late-night snack binges in silence while gaming. He makes sure you don’t forget to eat during long sessions.

One time, you used diamond to shield his tablet when it fell. He’s been lowkey in love with you ever since.

“You sparkle like a Final Boss with a rare drop rate…”

-Malleus Draconia

Sees your magic as something ancient and sacred—he compares you to the old crystal dragons of fae folklore.

“You wield gemstones as if they were extensions of your will. Curious.”

Watches with open admiration as you grow an emerald forest around Ramshackle just to protect a friend.

Offers you glowing fruit from Briar Valley known to restore mana, trying to help with your magical upkeep.

Loves watching your hair shift colors depending on your crystal focus—it reminds him of the aurora.

He’s not threatened by your power—in fact, he wants to see it at its peak.

-Sebek Zigvolt

SHOOKETH. Loudly.

“YOU HAVE SUCH A STRONG AND SHINING MAGIC! AS EXPECTED OF ONE WHO STANDS BESIDE THE YOUNG MASTER!!”

Thinks your huge appetite is evidence of great magical prowess and respects it. Loudly. Again.

He considers your control over crystals as noble and warrior-like. He’s honored to train beside you.

Compliments your hair awkwardly. “IT—IT SHINES AS GLORIOUSLY AS MALLEUS-SAMA’S MAGNIFICENCE!!”

He’s a bit extra, but his admiration is genuine—and he will defend you to the ends of the Devildom.

#twst #twst x reader #twst wonderland #twst yuu

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phoenixblaze1412 · 5 months ago

Note

Helloo, may I request dad dottore with a teenage daughter reader who accidently gets in contact with a gro0mer but feels way too scared to block him bc he knows already a lil bit too much abt the reader

(I'm literally dying srs😰)

Ah, I'm sorry anon please don't die😭..

The buzzing of your phone screen illuminated the dimly lit room. You stared at the name flashing across the screen—Jack.

A knot tightened in your stomach. You didn't want to answer, but ignoring him never ended well. Your fingers trembled as you hesitated, contemplating whether you should pretend to be asleep.

Another buzz. A message.

Jack: "Hey, sweetheart. Still up? Missed our chat today. Are you avoiding me? :("

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words press down on you. Jack was persistent. Too persistent. At first, it was innocent enough—just some guy you met online, friendly and charming. But as time went on, his messages became... different.

Jack: "You’re so special to me, you know that? No one understands you like I do. We should meet soon. I could take care of you."

Your heart pounded in your chest. He already knew too much—your school, the places you liked to go, your friends' names. You hadn’t told him directly, but he had his ways. The thought of blocking him terrified you. What if he got angry? What if he found you? The anxiety twisted your stomach until you felt sick.

From down the hall, you heard the faint sounds of movement—your father, Zandik whereas others know him as Dottore, working late as usual. The man you once feared as a child had become your greatest source of comfort. You hesitated before standing up, gripping your phone tightly as you padded down the hall.

“Dad?” you called out softly, pushing the door to his study open.

Zandik looked up from his work, his sharp crimson eyes softening slightly when he saw you. “What is it?” he asked, his voice void of impatience.

You shuffled inside, feeling the weight of your secret pressing against your chest. You didn’t want to burden him, but you also didn’t know what to do anymore.

“…There’s something I need to tell you.”

Zandik listened in silence as you explained, your words shaky as you recounted the past few months. His expression darkened with every word. By the time you finished, his jaw was clenched, and an eerie calm had settled over him.

“Show me the messages,” he said, voice cold, measured.

You hesitated but handed him your phone. He scrolled through the messages, his expression unreadable, but you could feel the fury radiating from him.

“This man,” he murmured, eyes flickering back up to meet yours. “He’s been manipulating you.”

“I-I didn’t mean for it to happen,” you whispered, shame creeping into your voice. “I thought he was just being nice at first—”

Zandik placed a hand on your shoulder, cutting off your self-blame immediately. “This isn’t your fault,” he stated firmly. “Predators like him prey on vulnerability. He will not hurt you.”

The weight of his words was comforting, but deep down, you knew that when Zandik said he will not hurt you, it meant something much darker.

“…What are you going to do?” you asked hesitantly.

Your father smiled, but there was no warmth in it. Only something cold. Calculated. Dangerous.

“Leave that to me.”

The next few days were unnervingly quiet. Jack’s messages continued, but Zandik had instructed you not to respond. Instead, he was doing something behind the scenes—something you weren’t privy to.

Then, one evening, your phone buzzed with a notification.

Jack: "Hey, something weird’s going on. Some guy's been asking about me. Do you know anything about this?"

Your breath hitched. You read the message again, your stomach twisting into knots.

“Dad…” you muttered, gripping your phone.

Zandik looked up from across the dinner table, his expression unreadable as he sipped his wine. “Yes?”

“…Jack just messaged me. He’s scared.”

A smirk curled at Zandik’s lips. “Good.”

You shivered. He wasn’t just doing background checks. He was hunting.

The next time Jack contacted you, it wasn’t through text—it was a desperate phone call.

You hesitated before answering, your heart pounding in your chest. “H-Hello?”

Jack’s voice was frantic. “You have to tell me if you said something to someone. This—this guy—he knows everything about me. He sent me pictures. My house, my job, my car—”

Your breath caught in your throat. “What…?”

“I don’t know who he is, but he’s dangerous. I—”

Click.

The call ended abruptly.

You stared at your phone in shock before slowly turning to your father, who was leaning back in his chair, watching you with amusement.

“…What did you do?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled, resting his chin against his hand. “I simply had a chat with him.”

“A chat?”

Zandik’s smirk widened. “Yes. He won’t be bothering you anymore.”

You wanted to press for more details, but a part of you wasn’t sure you wanted to know.

And then, a new message appeared on your screen.

Jack: “Forget I ever existed. I’m sorry. Please don’t let him find me again.”

Your blood ran cold.

Jack was gone.

Your father had made sure of it.

That night, as you curled up in bed, a knock sounded at your door before it creaked open slightly. Zandik stepped inside, his usual air of intimidation softened slightly.

“You’re safe now,” he murmured.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you whispered, “Thank you.”

His lips curled into something almost affectionate as he reached out, brushing a hand over your head. “Sleep well, my dear. No one will ever hurt you while I’m here.”

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #dottore #dottore x reader #zandik x reader #il dottore #il dottore x reader #gender neutral reader

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pinkaditty · 2 years ago

Text

Pervert (Obey Me! Shall we Date)

summary: You are suspecting that someone is stealing your underwear. It will go missing and randomly reappear like it was never gone. You pretend not to notice, but set a little trap for the culprit… And catch them red-handed.

content warning: fem!mc (listed undergarments are stolen, but Mc could be a crossdresser idk) and nsfw is all i think but please lmk if there's anything else here that i forgot to warn abt!

a/n: this is my first everrrr OM! blurb so idk i hope it does well! silent readers won't be blocked but psa that i do appreciate likes and comments <3 however ageless/minor blogs will be blocked thx!

psst! read part 2 here!

MINORS DNI. IM SO SRS. i promise waiting a few years sounds worse than it actually is. please respect my boundary <3

You had suspected someone had been doing it for a while. Your favorite pairs of bras or panties or even your matching sets would randomly disappear from your dirty clothes hamper while waiting to be washed. When you noticed they were missing, you didn't know how to bring up the issue. It wouldn't make any sense if the laundry was switched. As it kept happening, and the clothes kept randomly reappearing and disappearing, you began to feel suspicious. Could it have been possible that someone was stealing them?

When you breached this thought, the prospect nervously excited you. There are only so many reasons for stealing someone's used undergarments, and you were certain you could narrow it down. You did admittedly find it somewhat disturbing, but at the same time, you couldn't help but laugh. Why couldn't they just come to you and ask? It's not like your suitors to be shy.

Then again, maybe you were overthinking it. Perhaps it was simple curiosity? Maybe someone is fascinated by humans and the clothes they wear or the way they smell? You weren't one to judge, but still. It felt strange regardless of whether it was pure curiosity or unbridled pervertedness.

You continued to put up with it for a while until one fateful day, you caught them. You had purposely left your dirty clothes hamper unattended after dragging it to the laundry room, leaving to grab some scent beads to freshen the wash. As you'd been coming back, you heard someone rooting around in your hamper. You could hear clothes being pushed to the side and frustrated sighs as the hamper teetered back and forth with their frustrated movements. You bit your lip, heart pounding in your chest. You gently turned your head around the doorway arch to peer at the culprit. Steeling yourself, you turned away and straightened up before walking in with a feigned surprised gasp slipping from your lips. It was just in time to see the culprit pick up your favorite pairs of lacy underwear. The culprit, hearing your gasp, quickly turns, color draining from their face before it is quickly replaced by a crimson blush.

Whatever excuses they attempt to stammer out, you don't hear. You simply stare at them, mouth agape, before your feigned surprise melts into a twisted smile. You put your hand over your mouth to stifle a chuckle, and look at them, mirth in your eyes.

"You… You pervert!"

---------------------------------------------

Lucifer:

To say Lucifer is beyond embarrassed is quite the understatement. He's utterly and undeniably humiliated. His glasses are crooked, his face a blotchy red, and his nose slightly wet from having buried it in the spoils of his efforts; your panties. He clears his throat hurriedly and desperately scrambles for any kind of excuse, including straightening up and attempting to intimidate you. But how could you be intimidated by a man who you'd just seen bury his nose in your panties, drunken look all over his face? You simply laugh at him and hold out your hand, a smirk on your face as you motion for him to hand the panties over, one eyebrow raised. He turns away ashamedly and gently places them in your hand, his shoulders trembling just slightly out of embarrassment.

With his eyes screwed shut and his lips pursed, he stiffly strode towards the exit, as if he could simply leave after all that has transpired here. You reach behind you and grab his vest, tugging him back beside you. In no position to argue, he does not resist. Once he is beside you, you begin to trail your hands across his stomach before going in a straight line up his chest. "You know… " you start, stifling a smirk and biting your lip. You turn to him, but he remains frozen, staring at the exit, as though desperate to escape. You simply continue to trail your hand up his chest, unphased. "Next time, you can just come to me and ask." Your fingers reach his neck, and he flinches, but shows no other movement. You trail your fingers up to his chin before grabbing it and turning his head so his gaze was on you. "There is more where this came from." You hold up your panties, the ones he was just so brazenly burying himself in moments before.

His blush deepened across his face, and he pulled away from you, stiffly making his exit. You only laugh and wonder how long it will take for him to release his pride and ask you for a pair… or two.

Mammon:

Immediately he is blabbering out a multitude of excuses, excuses, and more excuses. "It's not what ya think, MC! I was just- ah, just um- just checking for my socks!" and "I swear ya've got it all wrong!" and "I'm yer first demon anyway! I should be 'llowed to-" and "Listen, don't ya dare tell Lucifer or Levi or anyone else!!" and more and more excuses and empty threats spilled from his lips, until he finally sank to his knees and quieted, as though asking for forgiveness. All you had to do was silently stare at him, smirking, hand still covering your mouth as you watched him slowly melt and grovel. His face is a deep red and his eyes are watery, lips wet from pressing them against your essence in the panties. He still gripped them in his hands and his fingers trembled as he held them.

Smirking wider, you walk forward to him and bend your knees to face him. "Look at me." You didn't even need to command him. He looks up, eyes still watery and his lips red from him worrying them between his teeth. His face was still a deep shade of crimson, and his heavy breathing made it clear it was a struggle for him to keep eye contact. You smile and hold out your hand, motioning for him to hand over what was rightfully yours. Defeatedly, he hands it over, and clenches his fists in his lap, still trembling. You would have thought he'd have more to say, but perhaps being caught like this was simply too humiliating.

"The Great Mammon is too embarrassed for words, huh? Poor thing." You tease him just a little bit, watching him continue to tremble. For a moment he opened his mouth to retort, but one look at you and he couldn't do it. His mouth closed and he looked down ashamedly.

You laugh at his demeanor, and reach out to gently take his chin in your hand and raise it so he could face you. "Awww, don't be shy. I understand, your first human is truly irresistible." You give him a challenging look, and he gulps nervously. "However, next time, Mammon… All you have to do is ask. I'd be happy to satisfy all your burning curiosities. Besides, there's plenty more of these in that hamper." You lift up your panties with one finger, dangling it in front of his eyes. He bites his lips and his eyes widen at your gesture. He begins to lean towards them, as though attempting to get another whiff. You smile and pull them away from him, laughing at his dejected expression.

"Come on, I have to wash these for now. How about you be good and go wait in your room? Perhaps I'll bring you the ones I'm wearing now." Your enticing offer immediately stifles whatever excuse he was about to shout about the unfairness of it all. He simply nods and scurries away, eager to receive a prize for being obedient.

Levi:

Levi shrieks like a little girl, fumbling his grip on your panties and dropping them in the heap of other discarded clothes from his prior ransacking. "I… I-I-I… U-Um… I!!!" He stammers, desperately scrambling for an excuse, a way to escape from this embarrassing predicament. He lifts his arms in front of his eyes, shielding himself from your gaze. "I-I DIDN'T MEAN TO!!" He shouts, probably alerting the entire House of Lamentation. He slowly sinks into the corner of the room, curling into a ball as though you were hovering over him. His mumbled "I'm sorry"s and "I'm just a dirty otaku pervert"s are eventually lost to his hiccups and tearless sobs. Gosh, he's so dramatic.

You just stand there, chuckling to yourself for a moment, before drawing closer, slowly taking short steps towards him. With every click of your shoes on the floor, the more he seemed to cave in on himself, even revealing his tail to curl it around him. His sobs were no longer audible, but he was still shaking, and muttering to himself about how he couldn't believe he'd let himself do that. You sank down to your knees and patted him on the back, partially soothing him and partially asking for his attention. After a few pats he looks up, the most comically distressed look on his face, and immediately hides behind his arms again to protect himself. Before you can say anything, genuine apologies spill from his lips, broken by extreme stammers. "I-I am SO sorry MC, I sh-should never have d-done that, I'll n-never look at you again-" and so on, so forth, each stammered promise more extreme than the last.

You can only roll your eyes affectionately at his actions. You shake your head and gently tug on his arm, forcing him to peer over it at you. "Well, it's not exactly okay, but next time, please ask me." A mischievous grin spreads across your face as you say this, eager to gauge his reaction.

He blinks at you confusedly, before realization flickers across his face and a crimson blush spreads all over his features. "WH-WHA?!" He exclaims in surprise, jumping as soon as it hit him.

You simply smile and back away, picking up your discarded underwear that he held only moments ago. "Just ask. If you want some." You smirk at him, standing upright and gathering your clothes together to put them all back in the hamper. You glance back at him. "I don't have any except the ones I'm wearing now, so you'll have to wait." You smirk at him and turn away, focusing on the laundry before hearing him slither out of the room, his heavy breathing muffled.

Satan:

Of all the brothers, to be honest, you least expected him. Even Lucifer wouldn't be much of a surprise, considering how he has no such outlet for being pent up. But Satan had books. And yet, despite all those books, some erotica and some educational, here he was, unsatisfied, seeking the real thing through going through your laundry. On second thought, maybe that was believable.

He immediately froze, whipping himself around to face you and promptly dropping the panties on the pile of clothes in shock. He stared at you wide-eyed for a moment, before realizing he’d dropped his long-awaited bounty. He ripped his eyes away from you and set them on the panties instead, reaching down to pick them up again, and turning his face away, holding them out to you. He was flushed red, from the height of his cheekbones to the base of his neck. He probably knew that you never would have expected him, which was why being caught was so humiliating to him. You snicker into your hand, and he trembles in embarrassment at your laughter, still holding out the panties. You graciously reach forward and accept them, plucking them from the tips of his fingers. He quickly retracted his hand, still trembling and refusing to look at you.

You would have expected him to be shouting all sorts of profanities and curses alike, anything to deflect and avoid the situation at hand, because he is simply full of wrath. But he simply stood, trembling, and turned away, his eyebrows creased downwards in an unsurprisingly angered expression. Perhaps he was more angry at himself than the situation and that was why he was turned away? Regardless, you placed the underwear back in your hamper and moved to collect the rest of the clothes, and Satan wordlessly helped you, still blushing furiously and refusing to look at you.

When the task was done and the hamper was full, he made to leave, but you commanded him to stay. Rooted to the spot and unable to move due to your pact, he stayed, but refused to turn to you. His neck was still very red. You approached him from behind and placed a hand on his back, making him jump. You simply chuckled in response and said “Please Satan, the next time those erotica books aren’t doing it for you, you just have to ask.”

His breathing picked up and his flush grew redder and deeper. You could hear the slight wet sounds of his mouth opening and closing, as though he had something to say. You waited patiently for him to speak, but he eventually growled and stalked off, posture tight as a stitch. You knew he’d cave eventually.

Asmodeus:

Well, this guy’s shameless. The color did indeed drain from his face at first, but it was quickly replaced with a humble blush and a knowing smirk. He was still holding the panties rather close to his face. “Sorry, doll…” He drawls, gazing at you with lidded, suggestive eyes. “Couldn’t help myself.” He giggles after saying that, whisking the panties away from his face and hiding his hand behind his back. He leaned forward and put a finger to his lips, smiling devilishly. “You can keep a secret, right sweetheart? I don’t want my brothers to know about this…” He mock pouts, and you roll your eyes. You’d figured it was him because most of the ones that went missing were pink, and we all know who adores that color.

You could also tell he knew you weren’t exactly uncomfortable with this, him stealing your intimates for his own personal desires. Of course you weren’t, he was your suitor. You sigh and shake your head. “Sure, Asmo. But, let’s be more polite and ask me next time, okay?”

He throws his head back and laughs, as though genuinely amused at your words. When he finishes laughing, he wipes a tear from his eyes and mutters “Politeness from a demon… Really…” He flips his hair over his shoulder and smiles at you. “If it is what you wish. However…” His voice turned sly and low, as he revealed his hand once again and dangled your panties from his hand. “I’ll be taking these for now, dear.”

You laugh at him, and he simply smiles wider in response. “Well, sure, but… wouldn’t you like a fresher pair?”

The words stop him in his tracks. His eyes widen and his mouth drops open as he realizes your offer. However, he is only shocked for mere moments before smirking again, another blush dusting his cheeks, a drunken look on his face. “Oh, dear!” He squeals, walking over to you and holding your face between his hands, bringing himself very close to you. “I would very much like a fresher pair~. You come to my room later, okay? I’ll be waiting~.” He taps your nose and begins moving away, blowing a kiss your way and winking as he drops the panties into your open palms.

You wondered what the rest of the day would be like.

Beelzebub:

Honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was doing this simply out of curiosity. You'd be willing to excuse it. Poor guy, didn't know how to approach you so instead resolved to innocently nick away your clothing for innocent, curious inspections. You were prepared to forgive him after giving him a slap on the wrist.

You are surprised, however, when he starts profusely apologizing, clutching the panties in his hand, muttering about how he just couldn’t satiate his hunger.

His face is red and his head is bowed forward, not making eye contact with you. Suffice to say this is not what you expected. You cock your head to the side, looking at him curiously. "Beel…" And he immediately looks up obediently. You don't even have to ask. "...What kind of hunger?"

You figured you knew what he meant, but couldn't resist a little teasing. He squirms under your gaze, bowing his head down again and clenching and unclenching his hands, panties still gripped in both. He purses his lips before explaining, "I'm not sure how to explain it, MC, but when I smell you, I get hungry." He is still avoiding your gaze, but you can tell he's being sincere. "And it's not hungry for food, it's more like… a strong, lustful hunger… And I've never felt that before, so I was curious." His head is still bowed shyly, and he's raised his hand to hold out the panties. "I'm sorry, MC. I won't do it again."

You smiled genuinely at his sincerity and apology, your heart swelling just slightly. "No worries, Beel." You take the panties from him and pile them into the hamper. "Will you help me put the clothes back?"

He nods and helps you pile your clothes back into the hamper, a light blush still on his cheeks. Once you're done, you turn to him, smiling mischievously. "Beel. The next time you want a pair, please don't be afraid to ask me, okay? I'll be happy to help you."

Beel bursts into a blush wordlessly, his eyes widening at your offer. Hesitantly, he nods, clenching his eyes shut before turning on his heel and walking away, probably off to the kitchen. He's a glutton, right? He'd be back.

Belphegor:

Of all demons, the Avatar of Sloth is tirelessly rummaging around in your laundry? Of all types? He looks at you, color still drained from his face, before tiredly huffing and looking down at the spoils of his efforts, probably contemplating if it was all worth it. He sighs and looks up at you again, too tired to be embarrassed, and hands you the panties before collapsing into the pile of your clothes he'd created from his rummaging. He turns over like he's getting ready to sleep, and mutters a quick "Sorry. G'night."

You're tempted to laugh at his actions, and you almost do, but you decide to poke him back awake. He protests a little bit, rolling over back and forth and wiggling out of your reach, before huffing and whining. "Comfy. Smells like you. Tired. G'night." You roll your eyes and decide to use your pact to your advantage.

"Belphegor. Get up."

Suddenly overcome by the power of the pact, he finds it fit to rise off of the pile, taking his sweet time. He stretches, curving his back and whipping his tail around in annoyance. "What? What now?"

"I need to wash these, Belphie. I can't stuff you into the washing machine." You chuckle lightly, moving to gather the pile and place it in the wash.

Belphegor whines in protest. "What about me? Your smell helps me sleep…" He looks away, a light blush on his cheeks.

Your eyebrows rise in surprise. "And this is why you've been stealing my intimates?" He rolls his eyes and quietly mutters something about getting off but waves away his comment before you can respond.

"Doesn't matter." He quiets down and leans against the wall, waiting for you to finish. When you turn to him questioningly, he simply raises an eyebrow. "What? I fully intend to drag you to my room to sleep with me. If I can't have your panties then I'll just have you." He turns away and blushes furiously despite his words being quite direct. You simply laugh.

"Don't worry. I'll be done soon."

---------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: waaaaaaaaah i hope u all enjoyed! it's a little cringe yea and i apologize if anyone was slightly ooc i did my best!! i don't have a masterlist or anything yet but if u liked this please lmk! i plan on writing one for the other dateables soon!

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robo-milky · 7 months ago

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SR! New Years Attire! Cloche

Summon:

“欢迎光临! いらっしゃいませ! Bienvenue! Willkommen! Please come in, dear customers!”

[Voicelines Below]

Groovy: [Locked]

Summon Line: I WAS apart of my old school’s student council, peer tutor program, theatre production… You think I can’t put on a fake smile here and there?

Home: Do it for the paycheque, do it for the paycheque-

Home Idle 1: If you ask me, New Years is where it’s at for big family celebrations. Hot pot, incense burning, all that ritual stuff. Annoying to clean up after, but the red pockets are worth it.

Home Idle 2: Truth be told, it’s my first time working a job. I have volunteered, but that’s all for a good university application.

Home Idle 3: Rice cakes are not all made equal. They can be sweet, savoury, and even spicy. People who can’t eat rice cakes plain have no taste. …Though daifuku is pretty good…

Home Idle Login: New Year’s resolutions are pretty pointless. Why not get started on that goal any other day? Past behaviour is a good indicator of future behaviour, after all.

Home Idle Groovy: [Locked]

Home Tap 1: Ah~ I get to see my beloved Master Rook working hard and stacking shelves! …But Master Jade’s blocking the view.

Home Tap 2: Kadomatsu, was it? I guess in my old home we did have something similar to that. It was just this tiny bunch of bamboo sprouts braided together. Not as fancy as the bamboo here, but it did bring some life into the living room.

Home Tap 3: On one hand, acting cute ‘wike thwis’ with Master Ortho rakes in a lot of tips… but it’s just so embarrassing!

Home Tap 4: This apron is so much softer than my regular one, and it has pockets. This one has a cat’s face on it! Though it’s a shame aprons are meant to get dirty.

Home Tap 5: Would you like any complimentary tea or snacks as you wait in line ♡— oh it’s just you.

Home Tap Groovy: [LOCKED]

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pfhwrittes · 10 months ago

Text

title: citations needed (on ao3 here) pairing: none. characters: kate laswell, john price, kyle "gaz" garrick, simon "ghost" riley, john "soap" mactavish, kate laswell's wife and kyle "gaz" garrick's mums. rating: T

word count: 1.1k

cw/tw: swearing, alcohol, texting fic, basically a crack-fic.

a/n: a series of various text conversations documenting kyle “gaz” garrick’s evening as his mum’s plus one at an academic fundraiser. my eternal love goes to @gemmahale, @stuffireadandenjoy, @syoddeye and @391780 for encouraging this utter nonsense.

[Gaz has created a new group chat: SOS CODE RED]

Soap Suds has been added to the chat Casper the Unfriendly Ghost has been added to the chat Cap has been added to the chat Casper the Unfriendly Ghost has left the chat Soap Suds has added Casper the Unfriendly Ghost to the chat Boss Lady has been added to the chat

Gaz: SOS. EMERGENCY EXFIL REQ. IMMEDIATELY. Cap: No - John 👍 Soap Suds: 👀 Boss Lady: It’s not that bad Kyle.

Casper the Unfriendly Ghost has left the chat Soap Suds has added Casper the Unfriendly Ghost to the chat

Gaz: CAP I WILL DO YOUR PAPERWORK BY HAND IF YOU SEND A CAR IMMEDIATELY. Cap: No - John 👍 Soap Suds: wats going on 👀 ur maw’s thing not goin well?? Boss Lady: It seems that Kyle was unaware that my wife and I would be attending tonight’s fundraiser. Cap: And you didn’t think to tell him, Kate? - John 👍 Soap Suds: tell us more laswell 👀 🍿

–

[A private conversation between Gaz and Soap Suds]

Soap Suds: is laswell’s wife fit?? Gaz: Not now mate. Soap Suds: ill pay u gd money to send me a pic 🥵 Gaz: You’re sick. Soap Suds: as a dog 👅 💦 Soap Suds: please???

–

[A private conversation between MacTavish and SR]

SR: Stop adding me to the chat you twat.

–

[A private conversation between JP and KL]

JP: Send me photos of Garrick losing his mind. KL: Contact F&A and I’ll consider it. JP: Done. KL: Nice doing business with you John.

–

[A private conversation between two unidentified numbers] +447******913: kate pls can i have a pci of ur wife?? +447******913: *pic Withheld Number: No.

+447******913 has been blocked

–

[Group chat: SOS CODE RED] Soap Suds: send us a pic of u n ur maw gaz Gaz: No. Cap: No - John 👍 Boss Lady: No.

Casper the Unfriendly Ghost has removed Soap Suds from the chat

Cap: Thank you Simon - John 👍

–

[A private conversation between Kyle and Mama]

Kyle: Why didn’t you say Kate and her wife would be here?! Mama: Shit. Don’t let your mum get into the red wine. Xx Kyle: Bit late for that! Mama: LOL. Xx Mama: Good Luck! Xx

–

[A private conversation between KL and JP] JP: How’s it going? KL: Remember Marrakech? JP: Bloody hell.

–

[A private conversation between Gaz and Soap Suds] Soap Suds: add me back to the chat 🥺 Gaz: Busy. Soap Suds: please 🥺

–

[A private conversation between MacTavish and SR] MacTavish: add me back to the chat 🥺 MacTavish: please 🥺

–

[A private conversation between JM and JP] JM: add me back to the chat 🥺 JM: please 🥺 JP: Never send me that face again - John 👍 JM: 🥺 JM: will u at least tell laswell to unblock me??

–

[Group chat: SOS CODE RED] Cap has added Soap Suds to the chat

Cap: Sorry Kate. Lesser of two evils - John 👍

Casper the Unfriendly Ghost has left the chat Soap Suds has added Casper the Unfriendly Ghost to the chat Casper the Unfriendly Ghost has left the chat Soap Suds has added Casper the Unfriendly Ghost to the chat

Boss Lady: Boys. Enough.

Casper the Unfriendly Ghost: 👍 Soap Suds: sorry kate 🥺 Boss Lady: Never send me that face again. Cap: LOL - John 👍

–

[A private conversation between JP and KL] KL: Really John?

–

[A private conversation between MacTavish and SR] SR: Pack it in you dozy cunt. MacTavish: make me 😘

–

[Group chat: SOS CODE RED] Boss Lady: [Sent a picture of Gaz standing between two women with an uncomfortable expression on his face holding two empty glasses as they glare at each other]

Soap Suds: 🥵🥵🥵 Boss Lady: 🤨 Soap Suds: i was talking about gaz!! Cap: Everyone looks very nice - John 👍

–

[A private conversation between Gaz and Soap Suds] Soap Suds: mate 🥵

Gaz has blocked Soap Suds

–

[Group chat: SOS CODE RED] Boss Lady: Gaz, location. Gaz: Seated at the table. Lost visual on Mum. Gaz: You? Boss Lady: Bar. Also lost visual. Gaz: Shit. Boss Lady: Call me. Soap Suds: 👀

–

[A private conversation between KG and KL] KG: Sorry signal is shit. Update? KL: Visual contact confirmed. They’re talking to the head of the department. KG: Together? KL: Yes. KG: … The bald guy? KL: Affirmative. KG: Are you still at the bar? KL: I’ve ordered tequila. KG: Order me a shot. KG: Please. KL: Already waiting for you. KG: You’re the best, Kate. KL: I know.

–

[Group chat: SOS CODE RED] Gaz: [Sent a voice note where two distinct voices, one American and one English, can be heard agreeing with each other at volume as another third voice attempts to interrupt them. The English voice can clearly be heard to say “Oh, do fuck off Richard!” before the voice note ends.]

Gaz: Shit. Didn’t mean to send that. Soap Suds: kate is that you??🥵 Boss Lady: No. Cap: No - John 👍 Soap Suds: mrs laswell??? Casper the Unfriendly Ghost: Professor Laswell you twat. Boss Lady: Thank you Simon. Casper the Unfriendly Ghost: 👍

–

[A private conversation between Wife ❤️ and Love Of My Life 💛] Wife ❤️: Are you having fun, Darling? Xx

Love Of My Life 💛: [Sent a slightly blurry self taken photo of four people, three women and one young man, seated around a small round table. There are numerous empty glasses on the table in front of the quartet. Kyle is smiling with his face pressed close to an older woman who shares his same dark eyes. Kate is facing the camera but her eyes are directed towards the woman resting her head on her shoulder. Kate has a tiny smile on her face.]

Wife ❤️: I can’t wait for you to come home. Xx

–

[A private conversation between Kyle and Mama]

Mama: Time to cut your Mum off LOL. Xx Kyle: [Sent a slightly blurry photo of two full shot glasses] Mama: Time to cut YOU off. Xx

–

[A private conversation between Kate and S. Garrick]

S. Garrick: [Forwarded a photo] S. Garrick: You all look lovely Kate. Xx Kate: Thank you. Brunch tomorrow? S. Garrick: Absolutely. Xx

–

[A private conversation between KL and JP]

KL: [Sent a photo of Kyle with his head in his hands] JP: The Christmas 2008 story? KL: Yep. JP: Brilliant.

–

[Group chat: SOS CODE RED]

Gaz: [Sent a self taken picture of a woman with a wide but slightly tired smile on her face. In the background Kyle can be seen resting his head on the table, possibly asleep. Over her shoulder a pair of women are slightly blurred as Kate helps her wife wrap a pashmina around her shoulders]

Gaz: Exfil requested? X

Cap: Of course - John 👍 Soap Suds: ur lookin very bonnie mrs garrick😘 Casper the Unfriendly Ghost: ETA 5 minutes. Will give you a hand with him. Cap: Good lad - John 👍 Gaz: Thank you sweetheart X

#crack fic #tw alcohol #kl #jp #kg #jm #sr #i'm gonna stick this on ao3 so i don't lose it #pfh headcannons #<- i don't have a proper masterlist so it can live under here #i actually kind of hate this whole fic but i finished it as much as i wanted to so i'm posting it #might fuck about with the formatting as well when i've posted it but we'll see

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rrcenic · 2 years ago

Text

if they had tumblr on the lotf island simulator bc silly :))

🐚 thechief Follow

God I love him so much. Every time we kiss I feel so alive.

🔥 csharpmf Follow

cringe

🐚 thechief Follow

…this is literally about us

🔥 csharpmf Follow

OOOH FUCK I DIDNT READ THE USERNAME

#SORRY BABE OMFG #PLS FORGIVE ME WE CAN HAVE A PARTY W MY HUNTERS ON THE BEAJCH

(9 notes)

🦎 helloitssimon Follow

found a ton of these beautiful leaves and made a flower crown!!

🦎helloitssimon Follow

so. piggy has informed me that the rash on my arms and head is due to the posion ivy ive been wearing for a week.

#everything itches :,(

(23 notes)

🐷 number1ralphstan Follow

Greetings and salutations! This is my first official Tumblr post. My name is Peter. I use primarily he/him pronouns but do not mind they/them.

If you’re a supporter of J*ck or The H*nters DNI!!! I am a Ralph supporter!!! You choir boys make me sick!!!

I have asthma and I am gay. If you insult me, or call me fat, YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!!!

If you are anti-Ralph, I’m not afraid to call you out as the CONCHPHOBE you are!

Lastly: DO NOT CALL ME PIGGY. IT IS NOT MY NAME

🐺 xX_RogerTheHunter_Xx Follow

lmaoooo kys piggy

🐷 number1ralphstan Follow

FUCK YOU

#I AM SO ANGRY RIGHT NOW #YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF #tw h*nters #tw conchphobia #tw j*cks tribe

(341 notes)

👬 sam-and-eric-the-twins-alt-account Follow

#we’re personally more ralph-leaning #but not picky

(15,326 notes)

🔳 mulberry-boy-deactivated

t hebeasty i know it’s there i lnow the hel p help theyre is a beastie pleas

😭 PercivalWemdeysMadison Follow

hey op are you ok

😭 PercivalWemdeysMadison Follow

OP WHAT DOES THIS MEAN PLEASE

#I AM AFRAID

(40k notes)

🤡 sillybillymaurice Follow

brooo my homies @xX_RogerTheHunter_Xx and @csharpmf were talking about their kill streaks and i said “do you play on an open server or a private world” and they just looked confused 😭😭😭 like bro did. were. were you not taking about minecraft????

🐺 xX_RogerTheHunter_Xx Follow

🙂

🤡 sillybillymaurice Follow

girlie help?????

#ur so silly like wtf

(12 notes)

🔥 csharpmf Follow

bro check out this fire art i whipped up this afternoon 💪💪💪 nothin much just a quick doodle 💪💪💪

🐷 number1ralphstan Follow

Hey OP. Maybe do some research on famous art before attempting to plagiarize the Mona fucking Lisa. You disgusting credit thief.

🐺 xX_RogerTheHunter_Xx Follow

maybe you should learn what a joke is lmao

(31k notes)

🐚 thechief Follow

This is your daily reminder to take care of yourself! Drink water and eat some pig! AND FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DONT LET THE SIGNAL FIRE GO OUT!!!

🔥 csharpmf Follow

…i forgor

🐚 thechief Follow

ISTFG

#literally so pissed /srs

(2,176 notes)

🐺 xX_RogerTheHunter_Xx Follow

i am #strong. i am #emo. i listen to #mychemicalromance. i am #dark

*lifts black hair off face, revealing black eyeshadow* i cannot feel love. i care about no one. because i am #EMO!!!! /srs

🦎 helloitssimon Follow

🐺 xX_RogerTheHunter_Xx Follow

no!!! don’t be sad- *bites black lipstick covered lip and glances away* i… i love you

🦎helloitssimon Follow

🐷 ralphsnumber1stan Follow

Oh my God. And you call ME cringe.

#no hate on Simon even though he’s a weirdo #but Roger is like a different breed of freaky #tw h*nters #tw j*cks tribe #tw conchphobia

(865 notes)

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tristantzara · 2 years ago

Text

tumblr in the 1900s simulator

🎀 basilgillgirlie

HELPPP i went to see a country girl and i SWEAR coffin looked directly at me while he was singing no. 19 😳😳😳

#im going to DIE #oh my godddd #hayden coffin tag #theatre tag

( 5 notes )

🪮 tortoiseshelllll

honestly just go ahead and block me if you're still not against the consumption of intoxicating liquors /srs

#temperance discourse

( 7 notes )

🤵‍♂️ h0ney-b0y 🔁 in-my-merry-oldsmobile Follow

💁‍♀️ soshineonharvestmoon Follow

Alright, let's settle this once and for all:

Do cylinders or discs produce the clearest sound?

‎ ‎‎ Cylinders⬜‍‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎ ‍21.2%

‎‎ ‎‎ ‎Discs🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎ ‎‎78.8%

‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎Final result from 18,796 votes

🐶 yourwildirishrose Follow

literally who is voting for cylinders. #discsweep

#poll results that would give thomas edison neurasthenia

( 3,419 notes )

👨 lawrenceseldens 🔁 the-thing-with-feathers86 Follow

☕ the-thing-with-feathers86 Follow

hey. everyone. TAG YOUR HOUSE OF MIRTH SPOILERS!!!!! not all of us are able to keep up with the installments, especially ppl employed at factories/others who work 10+ hour shifts

#!!! #the house of mirth #edith wharton #scribner's magazine

( 102 notes )

🌌 impastolover 🔁 le-modernisme Follow

🔘 ilythomascole-deactivated19061203

There’s NO WAY you people are still supporting H*nri M*tisse after he posted THIS

🌈 chezlesfauves Follow

does this scare you

🌈 chezlesfauves Follow

i guess so lmaooo

#i wonder if op knows about la femme au chapeau…

( 10,675 notes )

🌻 emancipation-waist-official 🔁 localhoyden Follow

🐈‍⬛ localhoyden Follow

friendly reminder that it’s perfectly ok for women and girls to wear corsets if they want to!! don't ever let anyone make you feel ashamed for it - it's your choice, you can do whatever makes you happy 💗

🌻 emancipation-waist-official

Go outside.

( 984 notes )

👰 kittybristolsgf

i know it's been less than a decade since uh. you know. but can anarchists please go back to assassinating public figures and bombing government buildings and such all the time already, i have had ENOUGH

#the latest tariff law that was passed.... wtf #(for legal reasons this is a joke) #(please don't have me electrocuted <3)

( 2 notes )

🦚 fancyfeathers

Just got my widest hat yet!! An entire owl can fit atop it!

( 51 notes )

🏓 whiffwhaffwagerer

at the marathon in st. louis!👍 what is happening

#so the original winner cheated i guess #and the actual winner had to be carried over the finish line and is currently being treated by *several* doctors #also apparently some of the competitors are missing #...i'll keep you all posted?

( 9 notes )

🧳 thatkeenmotorist 🔁 thatkeenmotorist

🧳 thatkeenmotorist

driving my motor-car 😁

🧳 thatkeenmotorist

broken chain ☹️

🧳 thatkeenmotorist

driving my motor-car 😁

🧳 thatkeenmotorist

broken belt ☹️

🧳 thatkeenmotorist

driving my motor-car 😁

🧳 thatkeenmotorist

broken chain again ☹️

( 99 notes )

💃 lilyelsieinthemerrywidow 🔁 thegreat-trainrobbery1903 Follow

💃 lilyelsieinthemerrywidow

hey um whats going on in the balkans right now 😨 do you think theres going to be a war in europe soon im nervous

🙎‍♂️ thegreat-trainrobbery1903 Follow

well, a major war caused by a crisis in the balkans has been speculated on for a while. but it'll probably only last about a year like the war of 1870, plus you don't even live near the balkans, i wouldn't worry too much

💃 lilyelsieinthemerrywidow

yeah youre probably right

#and if it did reach us it would most likely be beneficial anyway #<-prev

( 13 notes )

#i've been editing this all day i have had enough. releasing it into the wild now #fake posts

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jax-gun-later · 1 month ago

Text

Jax's Intro!

_ _ _

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ☆ ) Jax !

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ — he / it, he pref ~ masc terms ~ queer.

⠀ ⠀ Unkown Role + Holder 🐰 22 y/o (in-sys, body age is 17)

⠀ ⠀ — sourcetalk, sourcemates & doubles are welcome. Pls int, i wanna bully y'all affectionately <3

_ _ _

BYF !!!

& some facts

_ _

Pro all origins, INCLUDING Willos, I'm annoyed I have to make that clear

AuDHD, Social Anxiety & Dyslexic

due to Dyslexia I mess up a lot of words and/or end up not writing some, sorry not sorry about that & bring it to my attention if something doesn't make sense or if you need an explanation /srs

Tone tags are a highly recommended thing around me, i don't want you or me to take something the wrong way

expect a lot of swearing bc I swear a lot & also a lot of word repetition

this blog won't be super active bc I don't front a lot in my system

I'm a Jax TADC fictive, if it wasn't obvious

I identify with source and will not source separate. fuck off if you're here to force me to separate. Also, all Sourcemates, including doubles or AUs or even OCs and/or RP blogs and fiction kins are absolutely welcome. Just, don't be a weirdo

I will sometimes not use tone tags / forget to use tone tags, if you feel you need clarification please send an ask or reblog my post about it

tw/cw tags may be forgotten, however I will not tag swearing bc I swear a lot and that'll take up way too much time to do so

_ _

DNI !!!

_ _

No DNI, I block freely from @idioticaltxri, I also interact from there mostly, will most likely forget that this side blog exists

_ _

TAGS !!!

_ _

My tag is sound.jax on @idioticaltxri

however, my tags here will be :

jax.rbs or jax-rbs - reblogs

jax.moots or jax-moots - posts about or with moots in it, will often clash with rbs as well

jax.inbox - inbox stuff

jax.talks or jax-talks - just, anytime I talk, you'll be seeing that a lot

jax.IC or jax.ic or Jax-IC : stands for Jax in character. if something is or feels like a thing I'd say in source, it'll be tagged like this.

jax.sas or jax.SAS or jax-SAS : the sas stands for Simply a Simp, posts tagged like this will most likely be me talking about my lovely GF (ribbun is real guys /hj)

jax.RP or jax-RP : this'll be stupid rare, but I may RP as like, a uhm.. Comfort thing? You know, like, RPing as your source bc you miss your source? I hope that makes sense? All RP post will be tagged like this, if it doesn't have this tag it's not RP. This blog isn't about RP and jax-IC has nothing to do with it. If Jax-RP and Jax-IC are in the same posts, they are purely bc it feels like an in character rp thing. If Jax-RP doesn't show up in a post where Jax-IC does, that means it's not RP and just something I said that feels in character.

_ _

Side Notes !!!

_ _

jax-gun-later is a reference to jack guns later aka stealing guns later, also a reference to tadc ep 5 pre-release Jax photos, and a reference to @/jax-me-anything 's (absolutely love that blog) user. it was kinda used as an inspiration for the name

there may or may not be several gun mentions on this blog, all of them are tagged as "tw gun mention", purely stating this as a fact but guns are cool and i will not shut up about them on this blog bc my whole user is themed around guns, and stealing them

you can treat me like my source, however, don't come at me for what i did in source. I'm not fully canon-lenient. fuck off if you're here to harass me over what I did in source. we can joke about it or rp but if you're being any bit hateful or threatening me without being silly or joking or purely lighthearted you will just get bullied <3 /hj

do not send donation asks or @ me in any donation posts, i am so sick and tired of seeing them, especially on the main blog ( @idioticaltxri), i can't help you. you will not get an answer, your asks will be deleted, your @ will be ignored if you do this. i don't care if you're a scam, a bot or a real person, i can't help. i will block you.

don't dm me abt nsfw things or tag me or send asks with nsfw. i am tired of seeing random people coming in our dms like "oh i saw you liked this one Hypersexual thing on the main blog, so i will spew out fucking nsfw things to you, this fucking minor i just found on the internet and ask very personal questions about it." this is a genuine thing that happened on the main, me and my sysmates were genuinely uncomfortable by this but back then it felt like there was something holding us back from saying "hey, I'm uncomfy w this thing you just came into our dms about it." so i ask that if you do try to do this think twice about whatever the fuck freaky shit you wanna dm us and if you still end up dming us, fucking ask before.

anything remotely triggering, except for swears will be tagged with a tw or cw, even slurs. Though i must warn you, i don't use such things even if i reclaim them, unless it's super joking and/or i know that who I'm saying it to is okay to say it to

no post is directed to anyone unless specified, the specifications will be as /dir at @(user) or /dir at (sysmate name) or just tagging someone without using a tone tag. if not any of those things then nothing is directed at anyone real and anything that is talking about source and/or source people (not fic kins, the actual characters) is not tagged as anything, moots who have sourcemates, and sourcemates that we talk about from moots will be TAGGED as jax.moots

hits you with Ribbun, right in the face @ribbonroz (subtly hints at something to viewers <3 )

_ _

Thanks for reading, go follow the system account / main blog : @idioticaltxri

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gloomskulls · 7 months ago

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚LIMERENCE PT 2 [tasm!peter parker x reader]

pairings: tasm!peter parker x reader

part 1

⇢ ˗ˏˋ SUMMARY ୨୧ after finding the courage and the balls to ask you out, Peter couldn't help but test the waters.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ WARNING ୨୧ 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

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

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