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conrad4life13 · 21 days ago

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Fluffy, Awkward & Hot as Fuck.

Summary: so what happens when two pathetic virgins have the hots for each other? or— 5 times you catch Mark staring at you. and the time he finally does something about it.

Pairing: Virgin!Mark x Virgin!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, fem!reader, p in v sex, dorks doin it, both such yearners, fluff, smut, strings are very much attached, cunnilingus.

Wc: 3k

A/n: to the anon who sent the recent ask— I knowww this took forever. i hope you all enjoy—and thank you for your patience 😽

The first time you had caught Mark staring at you, you’d been exceptionally late for your 9AM physics lecture. Late enough to feel a sense of shame as you trudged in. You felt sticky from the sun, and running, and maybe you’d even been wearing two different pairs of similarly uncomfortable shoes. But he’d watched you nevertheless, with a piercing regard parallel to a geologist waiting for their favorite volcano to erupt.

Long past your entrance, he’d studied you. Like you were his subject of interest, not the complicated lecture on quantum mechanics. Finding it useless to unpack, considering how far into the lecture the professor was, you’d resorted to just sitting and staring at the seemingly nonsensical equations on the board. The kind of formulas that would have anyone else panicking, but not you.

You knew you’d get it. You always did. That was one of the things Mark liked about you best. Your determination. The furrow in your eyebrows whenever you felt challenged, like you weren’t going to back down. The pretty way your eyes glittered whenever you got a question right. The way you always had to push your glasses back up.

Mark Grayson was so engrossed in his daydream that he had completely zoned out whilst staring at you, and his clouded mind hadn’t even registered with the professor concluding the lecture. So when you’d turned around to grab your bag from behind you, you glanced back at his concentrated form and waved your hand back and forth to drag him back down to earth.

He moved like he’d been punched, and it made you snort. He’d gone a sort of tomato shade of red, and you only raised your eyebrows, confused. Nevertheless, you pushed your glasses back up on your face and made your way out of the lecture hall.

Mark was grateful for his powers for a lot of reasons, but he felt an extreme surge of gratitude when he was able to hear you mutter to yourself as you rounded the corner.

Something about him being cute?

The next time you’d notice Mark’s pretty brown eyes on you was on your commute home. It had been about 3 weeks since you last caught him zoned out in your direction, and you’d paid the event no more mind.

It had been a long day, and you’d let your hair out of its ponytail to relieve some of the tension. It was messy, and your baby hairs were sticking out all over the place. You were in grey sweats and white top, and you looked overwhelmingly like the disheveled student you were.

So why was Mark Grayson looking at you like he wanted to eat you alive? Eyes all dark as he peered up at you through his lashes. Breath bated as he watched your every move.

It felt… intimate.

You didn't even know you two had the same commute home, until now. There he was, stood across you, shoulders almost hitting the rails, and head ducked to keep him from touching the roof.

Has he always been this tall?

You’d just stared back, biting your cheek to stop the grin threatening to show. This was fun. This little game. Mark was wearing this tight shirt that showed off his biceps perfectly. You shake your head to compose yourself, the short moment between you two almost making you forget that you were in a carriage full of people.

Gosh, did he even blink?

Mark was so hyperfocused on you that he hadn’t noticed you checking him out. He hadn’t even noticed when the train passed by his stop.

His powers usually allowed him to sense his entire environment holistically, but whenever you were there, he seemed to develop tunnel vision.

He might have just found his weakness in you. And he loved it.

The third time, you’re staring at Mark first. You think you’ve mastered the art of stolen glances at a faraway crush until he turns around and stares directly at you, like he knew. Like he was waiting for it. You see a flash of something in his eyes. It looks like sin wrapped in an alluring package of lust, and you find yourself wanting to stare at him forever.

But just like that, it’s gone, and he’s looking away. He can hear your heart skip from across the room, and it’s almost solid confirmation that you like him back, but he’s still too scared to make a move. You were just so magnetic. So astounding. What would you say to a nobody like him asking you out?

Truth was, you liked Mark’s eyes on you. You liked knowing that someone was watching out for you, and you liked it even more that it was the pretty nerd from your physics class.

Sometimes, you wouldn’t even catch him staring at you, but you’d feel his eyes on you, goosebumps prickling up your arms.

Fuck, you wished Mark would just ask you out already.

Instead, you had to resort to late night fanfic binges and trashy romance shows to fulfill you.

The fourth time you catch Mark staring at you, he’d been staring at you like he made a habit of it. Just watching you around campus, as you went about your day. And it wasn’t nearly as discreet as he wished it was.

It was raining in the middle of fucking July, and you’d been trying to figure out how to catch a taxi since your phone had died, fortunately bumping into Mark.

“Hello !!” You shout awkwardly over the sound of the rain.

He grins.

“You can come over to my dorm.” He states, like he knew your predicament without you even mentioning it. Like he had your back, and you didn’t even need to ask.

“Lead the way,” you’d replied, happy to find shelter from the cold.

When you walk in, shivering and wet, you miss the way his eyes trail down your figure. He clears his throat, passing you some pj pants and a shirt, as well as a towel to dry off.

“You can just leave the wet clothes on the floor.” He mentions as you walk in.

He’d been drenched himself, but only after you got dressed in the bathroom did he move to change.

Mark pulls his top off, mind running through a million things to say when he leaves. He was gonna ask you out. This was it. The perfect time. The perfect girl. He’s just about ready to fall into another one of his daydreaming bouts when he spots a flash of pink on the floor.

There, on top of the rest of your clothes, was your pink underwear. All wet and forbidden. Mark has to take a deep breath. He is trying to convince himself that he isn’t totally perverted when his hands reach out for them. He’s just going to hold them, he tells himself. He wonders if you’d notice if he tucked them away. Would you even miss them? How many more frilly little pairs did you have?

He’s pulling them to his nose, reservations damned, when he hears your voice from behind the door. He almost trips, yelling a, ‘coming!’ as he hurriedly throws your panties back.

You’re peering up at him curiously when he walks out, towel wrapped around your hair as you sit at his desk.

“You got this formula wrong.” There’s a hint of humour and flirtation within the chide, and he finds himself grinning wide as he saunters over to you, leaning over you as you explain timidly where he went wrong.

He’s acutely aware of the fact that you’re wearing his sweatpants with no underwear, and he thinks to himself that he’ll never wash them again.

You look like you belong in his space. His clothes. Looking up at him. You look like you belong, and he never wants you to leave.

The teasing lilt in your voice remains as you correct Mark on his work. You peer back up at him, to make sure that he’s listening, and the weight of his gaze pierces you.

You’re hit with the sudden and overwhelming want for Mark. You knew you had a crush on him, but this felt like something much deeper. You wanted to be close enough to whisper in his ear. You wanted to have him in ways no one else had.

But you were scared he didn’t feel the same way.

The fifth time you caught Mark staring at you, you were locked in a closet with him, in extremely close quarters. You somehow allowed your friend to convince you to come to a small gathering held in her dorm, but found yourself unsurprised to see the rowdy crowd she had managed to collect. Feeling extra pushy, she found a way to convince you to join the ongoing game of 7 minutes in Heaven.

And just your luck, the bottle had landed on you and Mark. You’re blushing, and you’re hoping he can’t notice in the darkness of the dingy closet. But he does. He notices everything about you.

The way you fidget right before you raise your hand to ask the professor something. The way you mumble things to yourself in the library while you work things out in your head. The cute little skirts you wear when it’s nice out. The way you pull at the hem when you think they’re pulling up. The way your tight-clad thighs look when you sit across from him.

“You’re staring.” You deadpan.

He’s fumbling over his words, face heating up and eyes suddenly everywhere but on you.

“Uh… I was just, just…” he’s stuttering, mind running a hundred miles a minute trying to come up with a valid excuse for the way he was practically undressing you with his eyes.

You decide to be a bit bold. You figure Mark just needs a bit of a spark, and then he’ll finally confess to you, and you can tell him how much you want him. Right?

“It’s fine. I don’t mind it.” You say, and watch the mortification written on his face turn into something else. Something intimidating. Abruptly, you’re realising the compromising situation you’re in, what with your bodies pressed precariously against each other. You move back, almost banging your head against the wall, as he quickly pushes his hand before your head to cushion you.

Mark leans into you, and you feel his breath against your neck as he whispers.

You shiver against his touch, and you can hear his breath hitch as you melt into him. It feels natural. Real. Like you’ve touched him before, even though you never have.

It makes you want to do things you’ve never done before. You’re calculating the risk of finally kissing him when you decide to just take it.

He groans into your mouth when you finally smash your lips to his. It’s clumsy and awkward and it’s more of tongues being pulled every which way.

He pulls you into him, knee pushing in between your legs and you grunt at the friction, eyes rolling back when he starts kissing up your neck.

He pecks you twice, biting your lip as he finally lets go. “Think our seven minutes is up,” he points out.

“Right,” you say, hand fishing for the doorknob in the dark when his hand finds yours and guides you to it.

When you look up at him, he’s already staring. You swallow and twist the doorknob, eyes squinting at the sudden light from your friend’s bedroom.

William is there, smirking at the sight of the two of you.

“What’d you prudes get up to?” He’s inquiring, cackling at the sight of both of you rapidly trying to explain that nothing, absolutely nish occurred. But then why were you two acting so awkward?

And why did you have a fresh hickey blooming on your neck?

The sixth time you catch Mark staring at you, he finally decides to do something.

“Want to come over and get that final assignment done?” He’s asking.

He could give a fuck less about the assignment. He’d completed it weeks ago, and he was sure you had too. And you knew that.

You stumble into his dorm. It’s messy when you finally collide. Teeth clashing, bodies fumbling as he leads you backwards and into his bed.

He’s kissing you like you’re all he has. And at that moment, you might as well be. Mark’s holding you tight, like he’s afraid you might suddenly change your mind and disappear from his grasp.

His kisses trail up and down your neck, sucking and licking, messy, spit-filled. If this feels as good as it does, you wonder how it will feel when he’s finally inside of you. But fuck, you had never done this before, and you wanted him to know. To know you needed it slow.

“Mark…” you’re trailing off with a gasp, because he’s pulled you onto his lap, and the friction feels so good.

“Hm,” he pauses his assault on your neck to stare at your lips, like he doesn’t want to stop kissing you, not even for a second. You stare back, unabashedly for a second, because this feels like the first time you can just look into his eyes. Really look into them. He blinks up at you for a second, like he can’t believe this is real.

“This… I’m doing this for the first time, with you.” And Mark knows he’ll never forget the feeling of your flesh under his.

“Me too.” Is all he responds. He’s watching you, searching for signs of apprehension, because he’d give you his virginity and anything else you wanted, but he needed you to be sure.

“C-can I?” He’s asking fingers trailing the hem of your shirt, and you want to tell him you’d cry if he didn’t.

Then you’re sat on top of him, clad only in your bra and pants, and the immediacy of it all hits you. You realise you’ve never actually done anything like this before, and that you don’t know what Mark likes, and suddenly your thoughts are spiralling and you’re trying to figure out what to do next, and this cacophony of chaotic thoughts results in you moaning very loudly (and falsely) in his face when his hand tentatively touches your breast.

His hand pauses where it’s at.

He stares at you, and you stare back, and then you burst out laughing, falling backwards onto the mattress as he looks at you absurdly.

There are tears in your eyes from how loud you’re laughing when he crawls on top of you.

“Did you just fake moan at me touching your boob?”

And then you’re laughing harder.

“I don’t know, Mark!” You exclaim. “I was panicking!!”

He snorts, hands moving to unbutton your jeans.

“Well, I wanna hear what you sound like for real.” Like he needs you to believe him, he’s grabbing your thighs and pulling you into his face, kissing you through your panties.

You feel scandalised. And also revered. And you know you can never go back to reading erotica because the real thing felt so entirely electrifying and Mark hadn’t even really touched you yet.

“You need to tell me what feels good, okay?” He’s saying, and even though Mark looks like he knows what he’s doing on the outside, he is panicking internally. He’d never even seen a vagina up close, much less eaten a girl out.

Praying that he wouldn’t embarrass himself and die of mortification, he pulls your panties off and dives in.

“Fuck, Mark.” You’re moaning, and this spurs him on, mouth all over the place as he makes out with your cunt. He tries to add his fingers into the mix, but it feels kinda awkward and he doesn’t really know how to position them and when he finally starts to push two in you’re yelling at him in a panic.

“Slow! Please, go slow.” Mark nods his head from between your thighs, leisurely working one finger at a time. Ten minutes in and he’s starting to find a rhythm, pumping his fingers in while he sucks on your clit, finding your sweet spot.

Like always, he keeps observing you, watching for signs of discomfort, mentally logging the signs of pleasure. Mark’s enjoying it so much that he almost doesn’t realise his own rutting into the bed to relieve the tension in his pants, and he keeps going at it until you’re keening above him, hand finding his hair as you pull on it.

“M-mark. Fuck, I’m so close.” You think you pass out for a second when you come on his tongue, back arched and legs trembling. That felt better than any orgasm you’d ever given yourself.

Mark eases you through the waves, licking and sucking until you’ve come back to earth and are pulling him up, kissing him and tasting yourself on his tongue. He’s kneeling between your legs, and when you reach down to rub him through his pants he shakes his head, muttering, “need you now.”

You gulp, both excited and terrified at the thought of having sex. When Mark pulls himself out of his boxers, you gulp. Because he was large. Lengthy and girthy, with a pink mushroom tip, and a long vein tracing the underside of his cock. He looked like he was hard enough for it to hurt. There was some precum leaking from his tip, and you feel the sudden urge to lick him.

But you don’t touch him yet. You don't touch him for a while. You just sit there, hands clasped on your lap and eyes drowning in Mark.

God, there was so much Mark.

He just watches you, cock jumping every now and then whenever your fingers ghost it.

“Fuck, Mark. Think you might break me.” He makes a noise in the back of his throat, shivering at your words.

Mark knew he wasn’t small. But hearing you say that made him feel something deep at the base of his spine.

When he finally pushes in, you think you might die. He’s so big, and he’s stretching you out in ways you didn’t know were possible. You don’t even know you’re holding your breath until he’s mouthing at your earlobe and whispering, “breathe, baby.”

You become hyper aware of Mark inside you. You feel like you’ve finally molded around him, and the stretch you first felt feels like a dull ache now. You want to move, so you tilt your hips up to feel him deeper. He only gasps, hands finding purchase at your hips as he holds you tight.

“Fuck– don’t, don’t move. Please.” He’s gritting his teeth, eyes closed tightly shut as he tries to hold back his impending orgasm.

When he finally thrusts into you, pushing all the way out and then in to the hilt, you feel the air knocked out of you.

“Mark—” you whimper. He’s groaning, moving in and out of you slowly, hands tightening around your waist.

“Please,” you’re begging, and you don’t even know for what. Harder, deeper, faster, slower. You wanted him ingrained in you. And he wanted to consume your very being.

You open your eyes, staring into Mark’s eyes for what feels like the thousandth time, and each time, you find yourself sinking deeper into him.

And when you come around his cock, you know he’s ruined you for anyone else.

Taglist: lmk if you'd like to be added- for either future mark fics or any other works

@l1zard-l3ague @needylittleprince @repairheartzz @cosmiiwrites @cheeyan

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conrad4life13 · 21 days ago

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panty stealer

DATE: JANUARY 14, 2023

summary: flash forces peter to sneak into the girls sorority and steal a pair of panties as a dare. stumbling into the nearest room to save himself from being caught, he doesn’t expect you to be there, and to let him steal the panties you’re wearing.

request: yes!

words: 5.1k

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [fingering, oral], praise kink, slight dacryphilia kink, dirty talk, and protected sex), language, alcohol, mentions of weed, and a bit of fluff.

note: frat!peter x sorority!reader / peter masterlist / PART 2

—

“are you serious right now, flash?” peter groans with a pinch to his nose. his eyes screw shut in annoyance at flash’s obnoxious behavior.

“of course i am, penis parker!” flash shouts, shoving peter towards the large, white sorority house. “you have to do the dare or else.”

peter groans again, hating himself for ever agreeing to do this stupid game with flash.

the night had started calm and for once, peter was grateful. friday nights were the craziest day at the frat house, but this week, everyone was a bit too busy with schoolwork. except flash apparently.

like all of his other roomies, peter loves a good party. he doesn’t mind thrashing his house every week if that means he can have fantastic parties at his place (okay, maybe he minds a little bit. it gets tedious cleaning up garbage after a while). he knows he won’t be young forever, so what the heck, right?

people never would have guessed that peter was the leader of the frat. shocking, right? everyone would assume it’s flash for his obnoxious and party boy persona or brad for his attractiveness and charm. but what do those qualities have to do with being a leader? everyone else (besides those two) agreed that peter should be the head of the house because he is responsible and smart, unlike those boneheads.

peter often asked himself if he was attractive and if he had charm.

he did, right?

brad was good with the ladies. one glance and a wink made the girls melt into puddles at his feet. every morning when peter woke up early to go to class, a different woman would waltz down the stairs with a glowing, uncontrollable smile in nothing but a t-shirt. peter knew without a doubt that every one-night stand that stumbled down was brad’s; it was rarely flash or the others and ned had a girlfriend who was in the sorority across from us.

peter hooked-up once in a while. he found it more difficult to be like brad when he had college to concentrate on and lives to save inbetween it all. being spider-man in high school was overwhelming at first because it was impossibly hard to hide it. but now, having more freedom in college made everything a bit simpler. just a bit.

flash being spider-man’s “#1 fan!” still made him chuckle every time it came up.

speaking of flash, when peter stumbled through the door in the evening expecting a chill friday night, flash just had to crank up the energy. as per usual.

“what is this?” multiple bottles of liquor were splurged across the dining table when peter walked into the kitchen. flash crossed his arms with a huge smirk plastered onto his face, while ned looked concerned and stressed.

“i tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t listen to me,” ned shook his head in disappointment before walking away to his room.

“we’re having a party. it’s friday, penis,” flash said with an obvious tone. peter could easily have him removed from the frat, being the leader and all. yet he still keeps him here. why must he do this to himself?

“flash, i said no parties today. everyone is tired and stressed, and has a lot of work to do—”

“stressed? i think that’s the best reason for a party. you need to get laid, my brotha,” brad interrupted with an arm around peter’s shoulders and a firm pat to his buff chest. brad is way taller than peter, which some might think intimidates him. but peter is mainly intimidated by intelligence, and brad had the iq of a stick.

peter rolled his eyes at the predictable statement. flash rambles on about how parties are a tradition on friday nights and peter sharply cuts him off with a strict tone.

“ugh, fine! no party, party-pooper parker. but we will be drinking tonight. or else i’m sending an invite to 50 people.”

—

peter had no choice but to comply. flash, ned, brad, himself, and the other boys are seated on the furniture with the drinks displaced in the center. flash gave peter an ultimatum; play truth or dare or he rings the entire sports program of a party. peter growled and folded.

soon later, there is a sharpie drawing on flash’s ass, a ruler that measured brad’s dick, a flushed ned from downing too many denied truth shots, and laughter bubbling throughout the whole room. peter is the only one who hasn’t gotten asked anything yet and he honestly feels a bit left out. but he also just wants to do his homework and then go to sleep.

“what’ll be, penis parker?” flash inquires with a mischievous look on his face. “truth or dare? or should i say drink or dare?”

peter, not caring at the time, chose dare. “dare.”

“oh, you’re so in for it.”

—

so in all, peter was basically held against his own will to sneak into the girl’s sorority house. even though he denied the dare profusely and took three shots to make up for it, flash still dangled the party invites over his head like an iron weight waiting to drop.

peter snarled as flash nudged him again impatiently. he thought of an idea that might work. peter would have to do this dare, but would he have to do it alone?

“if you come with me, i’ll give you $50 bucks—” peter sells with raised eyebrows. he licks his lips as the cold breeze rustles the trees and sends slight shivers up his arms. the sky is pitch-black as the heavy clouds cover all the stars. peter felt a storm brewing and he really didn’t want to sneak into the sorority soaking wet.

“pfft, parker, please. i have enough money—”

“—in weed.” peter finishes, causing flash to halt his words. peter knows that flash can never find a good supply because he complains about it all the time. marijuana wasn’t legal on campus, let alone in the state. the trade had the cogs turning in flash’s head.

“alright, deal,” flash gives in and elbows peter as a form of agreement. then flash motivates brad and ned to join, heading straight for the zone as a group.

their goal was to grab a pair of underwear and leave without being caught. as spider-man, that should be easy, right?

—

for some odd reason, the back door was unlocked. you’d think girls would be more secure and observant than guys, but maybe they forgot. after hopping over the trimmed gardening hedges, the four boys crept through the door and into the kitchen.

unlike peter’s frat, the sorority girls had two big rules that they made known to everyone; no hook-ups allowed and no frat guys. ever. the girls didn’t throw parties like peter, they only went to them, so their place was like a holy sanctuary.

when the guys tiptoed into the kitchen, peter wasn’t surprised the place was damn-near spotless. most of the interior was pearly white; couches, love-seats, tables, counter, cabinets— it was like walking into an insane asylum with minor color accents.

it was at least midnight by now, so the girls had to be asleep. tiptoeing as silent as possible up the stairs, peter leads until they’re all standing in the middle of the large hallway with rapid, contained breaths. flash, being the scaredy-cat he is, follows last and nervously trips over the final step. he slips, tumbling down multiple levels with nosy thuds and bangs of his elbows and knees. all of the guys sprout wide eyes and strained, silent gestures to warn him to stop falling and making an absurd amount of noise.

peter gets goosebumps, hair rising on his skin as he gets a shiver down his spine. his hearing intensifies, picking up mumbled whispers and light footsteps with his spider sense. his eyes wander frantically as he scatters his brain for an idea. nothing comes to mind fast enough, as a door down the hall creaks open. brad and ned drag flash up the stairs, but freeze when they hear the door. out of instinct, peter sprints to the nearest door, slyly slipping inside. he closes the door gently, contradicting the pounding of his heart, without a noise being made. he releases a sigh as his forehead rests on the doorframe.

“what are you doing?” peter nearly shrieks when you casually question him. he stares at you, eyes impossibly wider than before. your arms are crossed as you sit on the side of your bed. peter swallows harshly, gazing at your appearance.

your legs look smooth and supple, and very much bare. he assumes you have underwear on under the t-shirt you’re sporting, and is proved correct when you shift to dangle your legs off the bed. his eyes are drawn to the small sight of your panties that tease underneath your shirt. you smirk, arms still crossed as you let him check you out.

“i-um-uh,” cheeks wildly red, he swallows and averts his eyes to the ground. how does he explain such a stupid thing without sounding like a jackass? i was dared to invade the sorority house. sorry. oh, also, can i have your panties? “it was a dare.”

“to sneak into my room?” your head tilts as you lift yourself off the bed and stalk towards him. peter’s cheeks grow redder while his heart pounds brutally in his chest.

besides the embarrassment flowing like blood through his veins, you were the simple kind of gorgeous that made his knees weak. the kind that is stunning in their own skin and that radiates beautiful energy like magical fairy dust. and peter nearly fainted when he saw your lack of clothes.

he’s seen you many times before; you share a class with him and came to some of his parties. he never talked to you in fear of rejection, but now he doesn’t really have a choice.

usually, he has more confidence with girls, but this is a very unfortunate situation where he lost every skill he’s ever known. even talking.

“no—” ear-piercing screams interrupt peter’s stuttering from the other side of the door. footsteps run all over the wooden floor as low profanities leave the guys’ mouths. “i think she found them.”

“you think?” you clip with raised eyebrows. peter inhales, losing some of his anxiousness at his thoughts of the boys being caught.

poor ned. betty’s going to kill him.

flash deserved it, though.

brad is probably getting one of their numbers.

peter shakes his head and sets his thoughts straight.

“okay, look. flash dared me to do this… stupid thing and i convinced them all to do it with me. i wanted to do nothing but relax tonight,” peter admits with a stressed exhale. you glare at him with squinted eyes, trying to decipher what has him so worked up. it’s not like he got screamed at and kicked out like the other guys. knowing some of your roomies, they might be a lot worse than just kicking them out. you get closer to him and ponder what he said.

“what was the dare, parker?” you shoot a harsh glare at him, daggers that force him to answer. your head tilts with curiosity as your heartbeats sporadically. you’ve never had a guy in your room before, and for that first guy to be peter parker has your heart bouncing around your chest like a boomerang. you’ve had your eye on peter for a few months now; not crazy obsessive, but you won’t deny the blood-rushing crush you’ve grown for the frat boy.

how did you stumble that low? a frat boy? jeez.

peter can’t be too shocked that you know his name, let alone his last name, but you saying it still causes him to forget some of the words on his tongue. many shouts are heard from outside the door, but your chests are nearly touching as you gaze up at him and then the outside world is practically silenced.

“i had to steal some… panties,” he mumbles, voice low and quiet. why does it sound so dirty?

“panties?” you repeat in a hushed voice as your surprised eyes blink a few times. you swallow, clit beginning to throb at the word out of his mouth.

“yeah,” he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “do you have any that i can…borrow?”

your mind hazes at his question. you tried to remember where your underwear was and if it was clean. but as a clear opportunity lies in front of you, you decide to run with it. you look down with a racing heart, fingers gripping the hem of your shirt.

“i…i have these ones,” you lightly ball up your t-shirt, revealing your laced panties to peter. he quietly coughs, cock starting to harden behind the zipper of his jeans. you glance up at his reddening expression through your eyelashes, devilish eyes hiding behind an innocent facade. confidence and lust ease your anxiety. “will these work?”

“um, yeah,” peter coughs again as rosy embarrassment crawls up his neck and blood rushes to his cock. you strut over to the mattress, rocking your hips teasingly, and peter instinctively follows with his heart in his throat. you lie on your back and spread your legs, arousal dripping from you at every movement. peter watches from a side angle, holding his breath as the tension rises.

“well, you’re not much of a panty-stealer if i just give them to you. come and steal them, parker,” you say with as much confidence as you could muster up. your heart was so loud in your ears you almost couldn’t hear yourself. speechless, peter walks to the front of the bed and kneels down, eye-level with your pussy.

he crumples the shirt over your hips, your legs automatically spreading wider. his senses heighten and pick up on the scent of your arousal. a small patch of it can be seen in the middle of your underwear, sending painful pulses down to his forever hardening cock. his thumbs dance around the laced hem, teasing you to see how much he can go.

he would say some of his confidence is back now.

he hooks his fingers under the band, sliding the flimsy fabric down while sticky arousal slings to you. he stuffs the damp material in his back pocket. both of your hearts rack and hands tremble at the extreme intensity, waiting for someone to do something. anything.

peter decides to be that person and resumes his fingers to your hips where the hem used to be. your folds glisten with pent-up arousal, just begging for him to touch you. your puffy clit throbs, neglected, and your thighs subtly spasm trying to remain open. peter grinds on his molars, nearly moaning at the glorious sight. his rough pads trace your smooth skin as he drags lower, dangerously close to where you’re yearning for him.

“peter,” you whisper, holding your breath, so you don’t move a muscle, even though they’re involuntarily shaking with need. he hums, the dirtiest thoughts flowing through his mind. “d-don’t you have to go? what if you get caught?”

“i can spare a few minutes…” his gaze is hazy and distracted, voice gravelly with lust. you clench desperately around nothing as you quietly plead for him to do something. his thumb tests the waters and finally begins circling on your clit, sending electricity up your body. you yelp at the sudden pressure, naturally grinding your hips for more friction. “hmm? don’t you want me to spend a few minutes with you?

his words are taunting and condescending, making your mind go blurry while the words disintegrate from your tongue. the rough pad of his thumb rubs faster while you clench around nothing again, chest heaving.

“i want more than a few minutes,” you moan as his middle finger pets along your soaking slit, teasing you painfully until your eyes roll back. you can sense the smirk growing on his face based on the satisfied hum he responds with.

“more? greedy girl,” peter slides his middle finger into you without warning causing you to release a long string of moans. “shh, you don’t want them to hear you, do you? then we’ll both get caught.”

you shake your head.

“then be a good girl and be quiet for me,” peter demands softly. you nod shakily, as another finger pumps into you rapidly. he thrusts brutally into you, fingertips brushing over your g-spot. you melt as bliss laces throughout your body.

“it’s always the quiet ones who are the loudest,” a devilish and dirty smirk dances on his lips while your teeth sink painfully into your bottom lip. you slap your palm over your mouth to remain quiet as thrilled moans threaten to pour out of you. your revolving hips are halted by his strong forearm, allowing him to curl his digits deliciously into you. you mewl with screwed eyes, back arching at the immense pleasure.

“i’m so close, peter,” you whisper, scared that if you speak any louder your moans will betray you and alert the whole neighborhood. peter subtly grinds his hips into the front of the mattress, cock dangerously hard from your whimpering and whining.

“can i taste you? been dying to since you opened your legs for me,” peter asks while your thighs tremble and your pussy contracts tightly around his digits. you mumble out a shuddery please before his mouth is devouring you.

he never removes his fingers, pumping ruthlessly while his mouth explores your slippery folds. he sucks harshly on your throbbing clit, a muffled wail escaping through your hand. warm and soothing, his tongue glides curiously and sneaks into your undeniably soft cunt. the moan you release is unholy and way too loud. at least right now.

peter wants nothing more than to hear your sweet, sweet moans crying his name while he makes you come in several different ways. but tonight was not the night. he wasn’t trying to get reported and have intruder as a new notch on his belt.

he had a good feeling you wouldn’t run off and report him though.

the idea of it all got him off much more than he would have ever thought. and looking at you, he could say that same.

his mouth plops off of you, lips swollen and puffy from sucking.

“come all over my tongue. let me taste you, sweet girl,” his tone is euphonious and seductive, yet demanding. his fingers savagely thrust into your seeping hole that clenches tightly around him. your back arches off the mattress as your thighs shake from the upcoming euphoria.

peter’s words send your body into overdrive. your muscles contract and your stomach tightens as your orgasm ripples through your body like a heavenly wave. cum oozes out of you and onto his tongue, slurping up every ounce of your juices until there is nothing left.

“such a good girl,” peter praises while he licks away your arousal from his rosy lips. heat crawls up your neck at your sudden vulnerability. you attempt to close your legs to hide, but he keeps them spread with his rough hands. “you’re going to hide yourself after i just ate you out? we’re just getting started, baby.”

peter pulls his shirt off deliberately, showcasing his bulky abs and muscles that made your clit pulse with desire again. he looks like he was man-made, a real-life sculpture with chiseled muscles and perfectly ridged abs. you were insatiable to this man, who snuck into your room to steal something— you should be mad at him. furious. but when his boxers fall down his legs, only dirty and needy emotions and thoughts are left.

your eyes widen at his impressive length; you’ve only been with a few guys in the past, but none of them were this big. you were scared, yet excited to feel his cock stretch you out sinfully. you imagined how long you would feel him inside of you afterwards, soreness like a good workout at the gym.

“you’re so big,” you mumble, not hiding the fact that you were blatantly eyeing his raging cock with hunger, fear, and lust.

“it’ll fit. don’t worry, doll,” he hovers over you, smoothing your hair away from your worried eyes. “do you have a condom?”

you stretch out your arm into your night stand, blindly grabbing a tin-foiled package. you seductively rip it with your teeth, causing peter to groan in impatience. he snatches it away from you and swiftly slides it onto his sturdy cock.

“such a fucking tease,” he hisses, running the tip of his cock along your folds, which were already soaked in arousal again. “are you ready?”

you nod your head surely, more than ready for him to fill you up.

“you’re one to talk,” you sass, rolling your eyes, which were no longer as worried, but full of needy anticipation. he huffs out a single chuckle, eyes strained on his dick rubbing around your wetness tediously.

“speaking of talking, don’t,” peter thrusts into you savagely, making you gasp and shriek. your hand immediately goes to his shoulder for leverage, nails digging desperately into the meat of his skin. the other tightens securely onto your mouth to keep quiet, even though it’s probably useless now.

hoarse profanities fall from his lips as he shifts around your snug hole. your velvety walls choke his cock so fucking good, he doesn’t think he’ll last any longer. and then you clench even tighter around him, sending peter’s eyes rolling back into brain.

“you’re so fucking tight,” peter groans in your ear, flicking his hips upwards into you. your body trembles in overwhelming pleasure, muffled whines begging to be released.

slapping skin and hushed moans fill the air. peter fits a hand between the two of you and rubs your throbbing clit perfectly. his lips travel down from your ear to your neck, kissing along your skin. his tongue discovers your soft spot, sucking harshly until you’re clutching onto him for dear life.

“you’re so good, peter. so deep, too, oh god,” you can’t help the lusty wail that tumbles from your raspy throat when he rapidly rolls his hips, repeatedly touching your sensitive g-spot. he growls at the praise, every action being intensified by the comment. you notice this and smile with a hint of devilishness behind it.

“you may be smiling now,” peter pants, muscles popping and flexing from the position. “but you’ll be crying soon.”

if possible, his thrusts got harder. and deeper. and faster. he was pounding into your cunt like there was no tomorrow, buckets of arousal leaking from you and all around him. peter would pull his cock fully out just to slam it back in, and it made you wither away into another dimension. his balls beat against you harshly with every brisk thrust of his body. his skilled thumb pets your clit, electrifying all your nerves into blissful flames.

there was so much to feel; the biting of his kisses on your neck, the rough texture of his thumb pad on your clit, the long, thick length plunging barbarically into you, and the heaviness of his weight above you. you were so overwhelmed by the pleasure, water brimmed at your tear ducts. soon, full-blown tears are streaming down your face from the euphoria running through your veins.

that familiar wicked smile curls on peter’s face with your appearance; wild hair, tear-stained cheeks, and swollen lips. he doesn’t think you’ve ever looked so beautiful in front of him.

his cock twitches when you whimper loudly underneath the palm of your hand, begging to let you come. contracting on his shaft, your nails stab his shoulder blade until crescent moon marks appear. a strangled moan leaves him when your body rolls up towards him, back arching harshly.

“need to come. so bad, peter,” you whine. his name from your lips drives him mental.

“fuck, y/n,” he sighs heavily. “come around my cock like the good girl you are.”

with those words, your second orgasm tumbles through your body like a thunderstorm. peter slams his lips against yours to keep you quiet, all your pent-up moans turning into needy hums in your throat. stars spot in your vision and you thought you might pass out from being fucked into oblivion. you wouldn’t even be mad— it was worth it.

summoning all your energy, your muscles tense as the liquid floods out of you. your back arches, making your bare breasts push up against peter’s chest. at the same time, peter comes with a string of curse words against your plush lips. he shoots his load into the condom, balls tightening while his eyes screw shut. he steadies his pumps and slowly pulls out of you, never wanting to leave.

you whimper at the emptiness, already missing his cock. he ties the knot and tosses it into the garbage under your desk. peter slips into his boxers and immediately finds the small box of tissues on your night stand. grabbing a few, he cleans you delicately like an antique doll as if he didn’t just ravish your body and soul.

you were beyond dumbstruck as he wiped you up. the few people you have been with never stayed long enough for aftercare, and even though it should be a necessity, the action still made your heart lurch for peter. speaking of your heart, it was beating a mile a minute. sex was a physical activity, yet having a huge crush on someone felt a lot more physically demanding. but you really liked the feeling.

a million thoughts brisked through your head; how does he feel? does he feel the same? did he hate it? did he love it? you shake your head. if you didn’t stop yourself, you would ruin any chance you might have by overthinking too much.

when you refocus your eyes to the moment, peter has his jeans fully on and his shirt in his hand. he slides it on and then looks at you worryingly, seeming as though you’re still naked and haven’t moved.

“are you okay? did i go too hard? fuck—”

“yes—i mean no! shit,” you stutter after interrupting him and close your eyes in embarrassment. “yes, i’m fine. i’m more than fine. that was… really good, peter. like really good.”

peter’s tensed shoulders relax as his face melts from a concerned expression to a soft one. you slip your large t-shirt on and stand up from your bed. your legs are a bit unbalanced and wobbly, and peter can’t help but chuckle as he holds you steady by your hips.

“stop laughing! you did this!” you whisper-yell with a faked angry face.

“oh, i know. next time, i’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk, let alone stand,” he winks with an arrogant smile cascading his lips. familiar heat creeps up your neck and ears, making you all tingly inside at the idea of a next time with peter.

“next time?” large rings of hope surround your irises as you stare into peter’s. his arrogance slightly fades as he itches with nervousness.

“yeah, if that’s what you want, of course,” why is he holding his breath? why is his heart beating so unhealthy fast?

“if i say yes, does that mean you’re going to try to steal my panties again?” you try to hold back your grin as you joke, peering up at him with squinted eyes.

“are you going to let me steal your panties again?” he clicks his tongue with his all too familiar smirk. he loves your playful demeanor and your attempts to withhold a smile.

you pretend to think, really debating. peter can’t help but stare at you in awe. you were beautiful, and he regrets not approaching you earlier because you were… well, he didn’t really know you yet, but he wouldn’t mind getting to know you better. even if you told him to fuck off and never to see him again, he knew that he would never forget you or this night.

you push yourself closer to peter, chest to chest. you can both feel the rapid beating of your hearts through your shirts. however, you stand, gazing confidently at peter. he watches you as you lean right in like you were going to kiss him.

“mm maybe. you might just have to find out yourself,” your breathy words linger on his lips as you back away and casually get into the bed. you unfold the comforter and tuck yourself in, like you didn’t just give peter a semi-hard on in his pants.

suddenly a loud crash is heard from outside, alerting both of your heads to peer out through the window.

“my car!” flash cries so high-pitched and whiny, he probably woke up the entire neighborhood. peter isn’t surprised that one of the sorority girls destroyed his car because he deserved it. someone needed to humble him anyway. you both laugh behind the palm of your hands at flash’s girly scream.

with that, peter realizes that he has to go and that he no longer has any minutes to spare. flash, brad, and ned probably weren’t worried about peter while they were out-running the girls. but now that the girls had done the damage, the boys would soon realize peter’s absence.

“better hide your panties. this isn’t over,” peter walks over to the side of your bed and kisses your forehead delicately. he cracks open the window, turning to you with half his body out. with a wink from him and a gasp from you, he jumps down the two-story window without hesitation. your heart flutters at his gentle kiss that lingers on your skin, fingers pressed against the spot his lips last touched.

rain begins to splash on the glass as sprinkles of water drip into your room through the open window. you purposefully don’t close it, even when you know the carpet will get soaked throughout the night. you welcomed the idea that if peter wanted to come back, he could, simply by sneaking through the window the same way he left.

so many other thoughts cloud your mind, making you lie wide awake. you wondered if his heart was still thumping hastily like the rain pattering on your window and onto your floor. you wondered what he looked like when he was drenched in natural rain water. probably breathtakingly beautiful; soaking wet hair and a childish smile adorning his rosy face while he laughs wholeheartedly.

as you roll over to turn off your lamp with a wistful sigh, you remember that you never even got his number. while trying to guess which set of numbers fit peter parker the best, you fall asleep with a yearning heart, flapping its wings adoringly in your chest.

oh, god, you were down. and it was bad.

what you didn’t know was that peter was down too, but even worse than you.

—

tags: @raajali3

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conrad4life13 · 1 month ago

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HOW TO GET A LOVER - kageyama tobio x reader

summary: kageyama has a crush on you and tries to win your heart with the help of his friends

pairing: kageyama tobio x reader

genre/tags: smau, high school, love at first sight? miscommunication, hard pinning, comedy, volleyball talk

warning: swearing, kys jokes, nsfw jokes

taglist: open!

note: this doesn’t follow the hq timeline

profiles

[1] freaky kageyama

[2] no name no game

[3] step 1: name

[4] cookie and milk

[5] milk chan irl

[6] date?

[7] abort mission

[8] like

[9] still step 1

[10] wait a minute

[11] secret

[12] falling for you

[13] as friends

[14] yogurt feed

[15] waste

[16] hit tweet

[17] amazing

[18] chat

[19] manifestation

[20] shoyo rescue

[21] milk chan

[22] step 2: interests

[23] oomf stage

[24] tutor

[25] yogurt chan

[26] oomf gang

[27] jellyama

[28] ice rizz

[29] steps further

[30] effing cookie

[31] pessimism

[32] Shakespeare Tobio

[33] my favorite

[34] what step

[35] movie night

[36] pause. rewind. play.

[37] gossiping

[38] which could mean nothing

[39] perfect

[40] silly love

[41] bliss

more to be added…

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conrad4life13 · 1 month ago

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aw so cute

hellooo i love ur boyfriends texts series !!!! kageyama version when😁🙏

BOYFRIEND TEXTS | t. kageyama

IN WHICH you go through texts with your volleyball-obsessed boyfriend

a/n: thank you sm for enjoying the series!! usually i go in order with the polls i post but ask and you shall receive 🥸

©OCHACOCA 2025 | please do not copy, translate, or repost my work onto other platforms!

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conrad4life13 · 2 months ago

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karma akabne definitely has the biggest dick istg

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conrad4life13 · 2 months ago

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◟𖥻 in between : percy jackson

▰▰ pairing: percy jackson x fem!reader

I just can't come in between them, they got their own thing ʚĭɞ or 6 times people thought they were dating + the 1 time it was actually true.

"So, you're dating?" the new camper looks between her and Percy after they gave him the tour around camp.

Ah, the long awaited question.

And the answer is always the same. "No, we're friends, why?"

Once again, the camper looks between her and Percy, who's standing just behind her with his arms wrapped around her shoulders, her head comfortably resting back on his chest. "Oh, nothing, I just thought—"

Yes. Everyone just thought. Everyone just thought they were together, and everyone was always shocked when it turned out they were merely friends.

Percy and her couldn't understand it at all, because it was totally normal for friends to act the way they acted with each other. Right?

ʚĭɞ the ponytail.

It is, obviously, totally normal for friends to want to help each other out before combat. So, of course Percy knows exactly how to tie her hair into a perfect ponytail. Doesn’t everyone know that?

Who can blame him if he knows his best friend so well that he can easily notice her discomfort with her hair falling on her face when she's sparring? And who can blame him if he wants to help? That's what best friends do.

So he didn’t see anything wrong when he stood behind her after they called for time out, his fingers gently carding through her hair, gathering it into a ponytail, twisting it with practiced fingers and securing it with the hair tie that he just happens to have on his wrist.

"Thanks, Perce." She says, as if it's nothing out of the ordinary.

"Dude, how do you even know how to make a ponytail to begin with?" Leo asks when he hangs back and she goes back to sparring.

"She hates when her hair falls on her face." He shrugs, as if that's enough explanation.

Leo doesn’t understand, he doesn’t try to, he simply shakes his head and says, "You do realize you're in love, right?"

But Percy isn't even hearing, his eyes fixed on her and his smile growing when he sees her more relaxed without her hair bothering her.

ʚĭɞ the necklace & hairtie

Yes, it is completely normal that she wears his best friend's initial around her neck. Totally normal.

It isn't even that noticeable, just a small, golden "P" that rests on her collar bone. Cute and meaningless. She just likes jewelry. This one she especially likes, since she wears it every day.

Clarisse has never noticed it before, but now that she stands in front of her as they drink water after training, the gold necklace manages to catch her attention, sparkling under the sun tauntingly.

Clarisse squints her eyes at it. "Is that... a 'P' in your necklace?"

She lowers her water bottle and smiles, and oh— Clarisse already knows what's coming just by the silly smile on her face. "Yes, for Percy."

"How is that-" Clarisse stops herself with a sigh. "Nevermind."

She's tired of questioning it.

And Percy? He adores the necklace, but he also loves the hair tie he always has on his wrist. Because friends should be prepared for when their best friend needs a hair tie, of course. There’s nothing else to it.

People don't realize at first, it's a simple black hair tie. But Percy fiddles a lot with it during meetings, snapping it against his skin when he's bored. And he doesn’t let anyone take it or borrow it from him, "anyone has an extra hair tie?" and he's silent because he's sure as hell not giving his.

Nobody really understands why until he ends up losing it and he's frantically looking around for it as if it's such a precious object he just lost and not a simple hair tie.

"Hey do you know if I left the hair tie in your cabin last afternoon?" He asks her when they sit together for breakfast.

"No, but you can have this one if you want." And it's that simple. He nods. And she takes it off her hair to give it to him.

This one is not even a black hair tie, but rather a lilac scrunchie that definitely clashes with his orange camp shirt. But Percy is grinning like a child opening christmas gifts, and you best believe he won't lose this one.

"Is that her scrunchie on his wrist?" Katie Gardner squints at him when he walks past her table.

"Yes, and he's wearing it like it's a promise ring."

ʚĭɞ the kiss on the cheek

And of course it's normal for her to greet him with a kiss on the cheek every time.

Hi? Kiss on the cheek. Bye? Kiss on the cheek. Training? Kiss on the cheek. Breakfast? Kiss on the cheek. Seeing him after capture the flag? Kiss on the cheek. It was simply her way of greeting. Him. Only him.

So when she was late for a cabin meeting and rushed past him with a distracted. "Morning, Perce!" without a kiss? Percy kind of froze. His eyes followed her as she walked away, looking like a kicked puppy, like a kid who's candy had just been stolen.

He proceeds to spend the rest of the day sulking. No sign of her around. No kiss on the cheek. By dinner, he's still weirdly quiet.

Grover asks first. "Dude, are you okay? you look like someone just stole your christmas gifts."

"She didn’t kiss my cheek today." He mumbles, more to himself than to his friends.

Piper almost looks like she wants to throw her fork to his head as she asks, "Is this whole thing just because she didn’t kiss your cheek?"

"Why didn’t she? Did I do something wrong?" And he's pouting, dramatically sad about it.

Grover raises an eyebrow at Annabeth, but before any of them can say anything else, she finally arrives, almost running to the table and taking her usual seat besides Percy.

"Sorry guys, had a busy day today." She excuses herself and then— like it's second nature, she leans to press a kiss against Percy's cheek. A greeting.

And every single one of his friends is able to witness the change in Percy's expression, the way his whole face just brightens. Long forgotten is the sadness and the sulking.

"How is this normal?" Annabeth shakes her head, going back to her food.

ʚĭɞ the wallet

Percy, as a good friend would, has memorized her usual order. "Chicken sandwich with no tomatoes and fries on the side, add honey mustard for those please."

"Does it change anything if I point out that you hesitated with your own order but not with hers?" Jason asks, looking at him as if he's simply ridiculous.

"That's what friends are for." Percy shrugs, taking out his wallet.

"So you know all your friends orders that way? I don't think-" Frank's words trail off when Percy opens his wallet. "What is that?"

Percy pulls out a few dollars before he realizes Frank is talking to him, his eyes fixed on the photo on his wallet. "Hm?" he looks down and he smiles at the photo. "Oh, that's y/n."

He proudly opens the wallet wider to allow both Jason and Frank to see the photo of little five year old y/n squinting at the camera with a wide grin, a bandaid on her nose. "Doesn’t she look cute?"

"I- uh- do you just carry it in your wallet?" Jason asks, genuinely taken by surprise. And he thought he could expect anything from those two.

"Well, yeah? she gave it to me ages ago." and he turns to pay.

Frank and Jason exchange looks and shake their heads in disbelief, meanwhile Percy is already busy. "Hey do you have those chocolate chip cookies with the colorful little sprinkles on top? She likes those."

ʚĭɞ the flowers and lipsticks

Friends get each other flowers, right? at least, Percy will if he casually spots flowers while shopping for groceries with her mom.

It's not his fault, they were just there.

A bouquet of pink lilies, her all time favorite flowers, right when he's walking past the flower stand. They are basically calling for him.

When Sally Jackson looks up from her cart and finds his son holding a bouquet in one hand and gummy worms in the other, she smiles to herself.

"Is there any special dates coming soon?" She teases, knowing exactly what this is about.

"Oh?" he looks down, as if he just realized he's holding flowers. "Oh these? they remind me of y/n, so I thought I might aswell get them for her."

Sally nods, she doesn't question it, she doesn't try to understand it. Because she already knows.

Except that sometimes it really is unbelievable that his son is so oblivious, Sally gets to realize this when she takes a lip balm from the racks by the cash register. "Maybe I should get y/n one of these, she likes them, doesn’t she?"

Percy hums, distracted by placing the groceries in the chekout belt. "Yep, but make sure to get the cherry-mint one, you know? the one in the little pot with the silver lid. She loves that one."

"Percy, how can you know how it tastes?"

Silence. For a second, Percy just stops mid-putting the bread down and realizes what he just did.

"I guessed." he replies simply.

Because he's not about to confess to his mother that he knows that's the lip balm she has been wearing since he kissed her for the first and only time when they were twelve. So what? they had just been friends who had never kissed anyone before. It just seemed fitting at the time that they should share their first kiss with each other.

And it was totally normal if maybe he simply made a mental note not to ever forget her favorite lip balm. Because he's a good friend.

"Perseus, you are unbelievable."

ʚĭɞ the date

Percy felt as if it was perfectly normal to be worried for his friend going on a date, worried to the point of sulking the entire day? completely normal.

Yes. She has a date. With some guy Percy didn’t even bother learning the name of. Percy had only focused on the sheer audacity of this guy to be charming enough to get her flowers— roses, seriously? and ask her out.

But it's normal for him to be a little protective over his best friend. That's all it is. He just doesn't want her getting hurt by some dude that didn’t even bother trying to know her favorite flowers.

That's the only explanation for the way he felt something inside him twisting when he saw her before she had to leave for the date, looking all pretty and smiling brightly to go out with some other guy.

That's why he doesn’t do much the whole day, he doesn’t train or joins his friends on their impromtu day at the lake. By the time the night falls, he has been on his cabin for hours, glaring at the ceiling for more time than he'd like to admit.

It's past lights out when there’s a soft knock coming from his door, and before he can even react, she opens the door and slips inside, still in that dress that looks like it's been made just for her, her heels clicking as she holds them in her hand.

Most of the times, she lingers on the door to wait for Percy to give her permission to step inside— as if he would ever tell her to leave. But not this time, this time she walks quickly and doesn’t even stop at the edge of the bed or sits like she always does.

No, this time she simply crawls into bed with him.

"Hey, how did-" He gets cut off when she suddenly wraps her arms around him, burying her face against his chest.

"Missed you." Her voice is muffled against his chest, but he's able to understand. "So much."

Percy wraps his arms around her waist almost instictively, pulling her closer to him. "You saw me this afternoon."

"Still missed you." She replies. "Especially after that date."

He chuckles softly, his fingers carding through her hair, her fingers curl slightly against his shirt, and he tightens his hold around her. And it feels right.

"Was it that bad?" He asks, keeping his tone light, as if he didn’t spend the whole day brooding.

"So bad." There’s no hesitance. "He talked about himself the whole night. Barely asked anything about me. And when he did, and I brought you up, he got all weird."

Percy's hands stopped on her hair for a second, his eyebrows raising slightly. "Weird?"

She shifted slightly, nuzzling her face against the crook of his neck. "He he told me that we should probably distance ourselves a little because people thought we were dating and he almost didn’t ask me out because of you."

"That's ridiculous." Percy laughs at that, but it even surprises him how forced it sounds, how his stomach twists again.

She pulls away now, barely really, just enough to look at him. "Yup, ridiculous, right?"

They both look at each other, her fingers still curled in his shirt, his arms still securely wrapped around her waist. And neither of them moves.

After a moment, he whispers, as if he couldn't allow himself to speak any louder because it might break the whole thing. "Have you ever thought that maybe... it isn't so ridiculous?"

His heart is pounding, his gaze glued to her, waiting for a response. "Yes, maybe it isn't ridiculous, maybe-"

Percy doesn’t let her finish her sentence, he can't. Because the moment she confirms what he has been thinking about, it's like his body moves instinctively, his lips suddenly crashing against hers.

Cherry-mint lips welcoming his like they've been waiting for this for a long time, his hand brushing over the delicate chain around her neck, fingers pausing just for a second on the tiny gold letter that hangs on it.

And it's exactly what it should be. Soft. Sure. Familiar. Comforting. And even better than that first time they kissed back when they were twelve year-old kids convinced that all they could ever be was friends.

ʚĭɞ the kiss.

The next morning, nobody notices the change— because there has not been any evident change in the way they act. Everyone just thinks that the clingyness, the kisses on the cheek, the hugs, are just part of the routine already.

Until they're getting ready for capture the flag and, as usual, Percy helps her with her ponytail. It isn't anything that people haven't seen already, No. So everyone just rolls their eyes at them, mumbling about how oblivious they are.

"How many more months do you think will take them to finally realize?" Clarisse mumbles, putting on her helmet.

"Who knows? It could be years, they-" Grover's words die on his mouth when Percy suddenly leans to kiss her.

Kiss her. Percy is kissing her. In front of everyone.

He doesn’t even realize that people have stopped to look at them, because as he pulls away, the only thing worth his attention is her smile as he says. "You'll do great out there, angel."

"I swear if you tell me you're only friends after that, Jackson." Leo tells him after she has ran off to go find her spear.

Percy chuckles, his smile bright, his eyes still fixed on her. "Friends? No, that's my girl."

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conrad4life13 · 2 months ago

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Kageyama Tobio x f!reader

During the early years of your starting relationship about you and Kageyama, it had always been awkward for him. You were always the one who opens up to him about holding hands, hugging, cuddling and so much more.

And every single time you hold or touch his hand, it’s always sweaty. He’s basically struggling to find the confidence to touch you, he’s always asking if it’s okay if he could touch you here or there.

And when it comes to kissing.. oh god.

He’s basically just a blushing inexperienced mess but sincerely.. after a few years of dating. He changed.

A big change.

He doesn’t blush anymore, he doesn’t stutter when talking to you anymore, he doesn’t look away from eye contacts anymore.

Instead, you’re the one looking away now.

His hand comes up to your face, cupping your cheeks gently as his thumb moves to your bottom lip, staring at you.

Observingly, he isn’t really the type to compliment how you look, but he would rather admire your face up close with his hand rubbing your cheeks softly.

And when he gently places his lips onto yours—his touch is so feather-like and soft, giving you a soft peck.

He won’t say much, Kageyama never says anything much to you since he respects and admires you. And when you try to look away—his hand would gently lift your chin up to look at him.

He loves studying your expression.

And admiring you of course.

end.

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conrad4life13 · 2 months ago

Text

Biggest hear me out

Yes I’m mentally unstable

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conrad4life13 · 2 months ago

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gotcha! - part i.

summary: eren yeager is spiderman. of course, nobody knows. not even you. not yet.

pairings: spiderman!eren yeager x reader

genre: college/university au, fluff, angst

a/n: this is part one of a short story! it's also posted on my ao3, linked here <3

🕷🕸️✩°★°⋆ 🎧✮🕸🕷🕸️✩°★°⋆ 🎧✮🕸🕷🕸️✩°★°⋆ 🎧✮🕸🕷

“You know,” you said dryly, sighing even as your captor bound up your hands with a rope you’d become all too familiar with, “I’m kind of sick and tired of this.”

The villain tsked behind his dark mask but didn’t reply as he tightened the binds and then kicked your feet loose off the edge of the skyscraper until you were hanging in midair. Despite yourself, your heart skipped a beat, and your breath hitched even as you tried to remain the image of a perfectly calm, cool and collected kidnapping victim.

“Spiderman probably won’t even come,” you leered in a sing-song voice, trying to do anything but look down at the infinite abyss of air below your feet, your fate secured only by a single, aged and swinging rope.

Maybe leering your kidnapper wasn’t a great idea. Especially not when you were currently hanging off the top of the Freedom Tower, the wind whipping at your cheeks so hard that it felt like your skin would peel right off your bones verysoon. The whistling of the air in your ears became a roar as it combined with the rushing of your blood, and you tried to keep your eyes trained on the dark of the night sky around you rather than the rushing of New York City’s rush hour traffic thousands of feet below.

Stars, you tried to distract yourself, you loved the stars. You would love to live another day to see more of them. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, and you doubted it would be the last, but still…

“You talk too much,” the villain finally growled out, dropping your rope even lower—a threat, but one that you were used to. It made you wince all the same as your body swung dangerously. You prayed that this wouldn’t make it onto the news, even though you knew that it eventually, probably, definitely would. You hadn’t even gotten dressed up today, after finishing off your labs. It was entering exam season, and being a fourth-year pre-med student wasn’t light work. Getting kidnapped every other week really wasn’t helping either.

You opened your mouth, “I think I talk a perfectly normal—,”

The air was snatched out of your throat. All you could see was the blur of lights, the chaos of traffic below, and the overwhelming feeling of impending doom. You could barely register the dropping feeling in your gut, too drowned in your own shock. You squeezed your eyes shut. You couldn’t even manage tears in your shock. Couldn’t even scream.

Hanging from skyscrapers wasn’t new. Dropping from one though—you had never actually died, before. Despite your earlier words, Spiderman had always—

“Gotcha.”

Warm. The familiar feeling of arms was around you, and suddenly you were snatched you out of the air. You gulped in air, your lungs feeling like they’d collapsed. When you tried to scream, your throat was too dry to make any sound.

“Hey, hey. You’re alright.”

“S-spiderman,” you gasped out, voice more of a hoarse croak. You managed to open your eyes, just barely, just enough to peer at your saviour. Sure enough, the same familiar face that had always, without fail, come to your rescue met your gaze. His eyes were wide—well, the ones in his red-and-blue mask—and he blinked down at you in wonderment, almost—at least, that was what you thought it was.

“Oh—um, yeah that’s me!” He said, suddenly sounding a little nervous and looking away almost awkwardly? Could you say that about a world-famous superhero? Instead of looking at you, he fixed his gaze forward and swung you through the buildings, gradually taking you lower and lower until he safely dropped you off on the sidewalk in one of the quieter streets.

“Thanks,” you managed, stumbling and finding yourself leaning against the wall, still trying to catch your breath, “You cut it a bit close this time. Any later and I—,” you heaved a breath, suddenly feeling like throwing up, “I would’ve been a splatter on the road.”

Despite his earlier light demeanour, Spiderman’s expression became grim, and he seemed to pause, deep in murderous thought, before he said, “You gonna be alright to get home?”

“Oh,” you said, suddenly feeling a little guilty about your own jab at him. It had meant to be a bit of a joke, maybe to lighten the mood, but you supposed it might’ve come off a bit insulting to a superhero. “Y-yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“Great. Gotta stop Doc from causing more trouble,” he gestured up at the sky, turning his gaze upwards. Doc—the nickname for the most recent villain of the city, seemingly out for Spiderman’s blood, like they always were. Were they fixated on the idea that if they took out Spiderman, the city would be theirs? Did all supervillains have such low faith in the general law enforcement of the New York City?

Before you could respond, Spiderman had shot out a web from his hands, swung himself upward, and with a quick thwip, he was gone.

***

On your walk home, you couldn’t help but deliberate on how exactly you were going to apologise to Spiderman. You supposed you should have been more grateful after he’d saved you from certain death, rather than insulting his lateness. It really hadn’t been your intention, but after replaying the conversation over and over, you couldn’t help but feel like maybe his sudden switch in attitude had been because of your unappreciative words.

Superheros must be busy, after all. There was no way he’d be able to get you every single time.

“Shit,” you sighed, making your way up the stairs of your dorm building. You lived on the first floor, and briefly wondered if that was the reason all these villains could find you so easily. Should you invest in better security? Why the fuck were they after you anyway, just an average college student?

Kicking off your shoes and shrugging off your coat, you found yourself collapsing onto the couch and trying to catch your breath again—not from the stairs (well, maybe a bit)—but instead, from the sudden memory of hanging off the side of the skyscraper. The overwhelming feeling like your life had been forfeit. Feeling so certain that you were going to die, and yet not knowing what to think, what to do. Not being able to do anything.

Your breathing quickened, and you felt the tears start to well in your eyes even as you willed them away. How many college students could say they’d had that experience? Maybe you should put that on your med school written applications, you thought bitterly, clenching your fist in the cushions.

Knock. Knock.

You straightened, tears immediately drying. Who the hell was knocking at this time? Right after you’d been kidnapped too? There was nobody who’d look for you at this hour, you were sure, and suddenly your heart was dropping to your stomach at the thought of being taken again—

“Hello? Are you home?”

Immediately, you couldn’t help the relieved smile that broke across your face. The familiar voice almost immediately made you feel at ease, and suddenly your doom was forgotten. Instead, you felt quite light on your feet as you hopped over to the door, peeping through the peephole just to be sure—

Despite the familiar face, what you saw made your eyes widen in panic. What the—

Tearing the door open, you whisper-shouted, “Eren! What the hell happened to you?” You gripped his upper arm, dragging him into your apartment before shutting the door behind him. It wasn’t rare that your friend—best friend—Eren Yeager would come over late at night, just to say hi. Sometimes to drop off snacks, but most of the time just to see how you were doing or what you were doing. You’d thought it was weird when he’d first started doing it, but he supposed with how often you were getting kidnapped, it was really nice of him to care about you so much. Reasonable, at least.

And yet, his face was beaten to a pulp. Well, maybe you were exaggerating a little. There was a cut across his brow, which dripped blood down his cheeks. It looked like he’d accidentally smeared it across the bruises on his high cheekbones, making him look like he’d just been through the ringer. The bruises were nasty, blossoming into purple marks that you were sure hurt like hell. His lip was busted, too, but not as badly as his brow. His dark hair, which he usually kept impeccable care of, was matted with blood and tangled as if it had been whipped by the sea wind.

“Eren,” you said, a bit more quietly as you pushed him to sit down on your couch, fussing through your kitchen drawers to find your first aid kit, “What happened?” you repeated, feeling furious and worried and scared, when he didn’t respond immediately.

Instead, he had a bit of a dazed, almost relieved expression on his face as he said, “You’re okay.”

You gave him a weird look, “Eren, of course I’m okay. You’re the one who’s covered in blood.”

“You should see the other guy.”

“Eren!” You scolded, “It’s not the time to be joking right now!”

“I’m being serious!” His hand on your cheek made you turn to meet his wide, green eyes. Even with the blood, you felt your breath hitch a little bit, and he said a bit more quietly, “I’m just glad to see you.”

You swallowed, fighting the flush that threatened to crawl its way up your neck, “You’re being weird.” Really weird. And really not helping the embarrassing crush you’d had on him ever since you met him in your first year at college here.

Eren laughed a little, a rare, tinkling laugh so different to his usual loudness, “Can I not be happy you’re here?” His tone lilted into a teasing one as he continued, “Couldn’t have asked for a prettier doctor to nurse me back to health.”

You swatted at his hand with a cotton bud, freeing your face from his touch so that he wouldn’t feel the heat on your skin and muttered, “Shut up.” Instead of looking at his eyes, you focused on cleaning up the cut on his face. The bleeding had slowed—remarkably quickly, you noted absently as you dried up his wound. You’d helped Eren clean up his injuries a few times—being an athlete, his injuries weren’t a rarity, but he’d never come over and looked this horrible before. Well, not horrible—obviously he was hot—but—

None of your thoughts were helping with the flush on your face.

“Getting a little bit red there, doc,” Eren said lightly, the corners of his lips lifting.

You gritted your teeth and rolled your eyes, “I know you’re trying to distract me from asking about what happened to you.” You weren’t dumb. Eren should know that, after so many years. It sucked that he was such a talented distraction.

He sighed, “Can’t get anything past you, can I?” His touch was soft this time, taking your hands gently, making you pause your dabbing at his wounds. He took your hands in his and pressed them to his lips, speaking quietly, “Just got a bit caught up after training,” he looked at you, and in this position, with you crouched just over his lap, he had to look up a little to meet your eyes, making him look all the more pleading. A rarity, considering how much taller he was than you. “Some of the guys weren’t too happy with me.”

You sighed, “Eren, you shouldn’t let them get to you.”

His emerald gaze was earnest, and maybe a little angry, as he said, “How can I when they threaten my girl?”

“I—,” you were too caught off-guard, and you knew by his satisfied grin that he’d succeeded, “I’m not your girl!”

“Aren’t you?” He mused, pressing another kiss to your hands, “Everyone seems to think so.” His brows lowered, furrowing in what almost seemed like frustration, “I hate seeing you get hurt.”

“I’m not hurt, Eren,” you pointed out, still feeling a bit light-headed as his words bounced around your brain like ping-pong balls, “You are.” You returned to dabbing at his blood, even as most of it had already crusted up. You probably needed saline, but more than cleaning up, you just wanted something to occupy your hands before you got too flustered to move or talk or even breathe.

“Yeah,” he exhaled deeply through his nose, giving you a light smile that seemed to carry too many layers of worry, more than what seemed necessary given the situation, “You’re right.” He touched your hair gently, adoringly, “I’m worried for nothing, aren’t I?”

“I’m the one who should be worried,” you retorted, smacking him in the head. He winced indignantly but didn’t object when you continued, “You show up here every few weeks with a new injury. Are you being a bully at training?”

“Hey!” He protested, “You know me. I would never hurt a fly.”

You raised a brow dubiously, “Pretty sure I saw you kill one the other day.” Finally satisfied with your work, you started to pack up your first-aid kit and directed Eren to stand up. You were grateful that your earlier embarrassment had fully faded.

“Not the point,” Eren insisted, “Sometimes I just get pissed off by the things they say,” he shrugged, but winced a little again as though it hurt, even as he tried to hide it. Rolling out his shoulder, he continued, “You don’t have to worry. I can handle myself.”

“Did you hurt your shoulder?” You asked sharply.

“Shit, really can’t get anything past you,” Eren grumbled.

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