#I’M SO MAD RIGHT NOW JESUS CHRIST | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

joonie-beanie · 10 months

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Side-Gig | [Peter B. Parker x Reader]

Pairing: Peter B. Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter gets worried about your apparent “side-gig” and goes snooping, only to discover your side-gig is writing Spiderman smut on commission.

Contents: Fluff, Smut, Consensual Sex, Pussy Eating, Banter, Friends to Lovers???

Author’s Note: I swore off posting fics on tumblr, but since this is just a one-shot, I figured why not. I think Peter B is charming, had to write a lil smth smth for him. And by that, I mean a 7.1k wordcount fic.

You and Peter Parker are friends. Not best friends, but pretty good friends.

You like to say you’ve looked out for each other over the years. You don’t talk all the time, but it’s kind of an unspoken promise that when one of you needs someone to lean on, the other person will be there.

Which is why, when Peter and MJ separate, you make a point of inviting Peter over for meals.

At first, he turns you down every time you ask, and you know it’s because he’s wallowing—depressed about his situation. And that’s understandable. You can’t exactly say you know what he’s feeling, but if you put yourself in his shoes, you’re sure you’d be a little bit fucked up about everything too.

Therefore, you give him a little space—wait for things to settle and for Peter to come around.

Except, Peter takes it all way worse than you expect—going radio silent after your third invite in two months. Then, you really start to get worried (and also a little mad that he’s ghosting you).

So, you manage to scrounge up his new address using some internet-sleuthing skills, and show up at his door. When he opens it, he’s dressed in a greasy wife-beater, worn-out gray sweats, and white socks with a hole in the toe.

“Jesus Christ, Peter.”

You spend that evening scolding Peter and letting him cry it all out—handing him tissue after tissue as he blubbers about everything on his mind. When he’s finally done, he apologizes for ignoring your last call, and thanks you for looking out for him.

With a smile, you assure him you’ll always have his back, and that now he really has to come over for dinner, because he owes you.

Laughing, Peter agrees. And luckily, he sticks to his word.

Since then, you and Peter make a point of doing dinner twice a month—typically at your place, sometimes out at a restaurant, but never at Peter’s. Not until he deep cleans his messy apartment, and you know that won’t be happening anytime soon.

Tonight, you’re at a restaurant of your choice—a local Italian joint. Peter arrives late, per normal, and you wave him over when you see him walk in the front door. He immediately spots you and hurries over, his eyes darting to the plate of bruschetta you’d ordered for the table, that now only has two pieces left.

“Aw, that’s not fair,” he says, sliding into the booth across from you. He immediately reaches for one, shoving it into his mouth. You shrug, not sorry.

“That’s what you get for always being late. And if I waited for you, I’d be hangry by now. So really, you should be thanking me.”

“Uh-huh,” Peter says with a roll of his eyes, picking up the menu to see what it is he wants.

“So, how have you been? I know we just saw each other two weeks ago, but—how’s work?”

You sigh at Peter’s question, resting your chin against your palm.

“Fine, I guess. Work is cutting hours since things are slow right now, so I’m gonna be pretty strapped for cash the next month or two.”

Peter blinks at your response, staring at you over the edge of the menu.

“Should we be here then? We could just get the check now and go down the street to the bodega—”

“No—no, it’s fine,” you reassure him, taking a sip from your glass. From the look of it, Peter can tell the glass is filled with rum and coke—your simple, yet timeless go-to.

“This is kind of my last hurrah, y’know? Gotta get one last plate of carbonara in before I’m eating ramen and eggs for the next few months.”

“I dunno about that,” Peter responds. “Eggs are pretty expensive now—you might have to settle for canned tuna.”

You roll your eyes at him, yet can’t help the little giggle that escapes you.

“You’re the worst.”

“I know,” he says with a smile.

The waitress wanders back over, and you and Peter put in your orders. Peter also opts to get a drink (after all, if you’re drinking, why shouldn’t he), and a few minutes later, a cosmopolitan is placed onto the table in front of him.

You watch him with a wide smile as he picks up the girly drink and takes a long sip—his pinky sticking out and everything.

“You and your love of sweet drinks,” you say, swirling around the ice in your half-empty glass. Peter hums happily.

“Listen, this is way better than beer.”

Honestly, you can’t disagree.

“So,” he continues, picking up the previous topic. “Are you gonna be okay? Money-wise?”

It’s not like he has much help to offer. Being a masked vigilante doesn’t pay very well, after all, but still.

“Yeah,” you assure him. “I have a side-gig that brings in a little cash-flow, so that’ll help cushion the blow. But I think I should still be able to afford rent and some groceries. I’ll just have to budget better, y’know?”

Peter nods. “Oh, okay. Good—,” but then his brain repeats the phrase “side-gig”, and his words cut off.

“Wait, what kind of side-gig are we talking about here?”

Despite how long the two of you have known each other, Peter has never heard anything about any kind of “side-gig”. It’s a little concerning, honestly, since the two of you don’t really keep secrets from each other.

Although it’s not like you know he’s Spiderman.

“Yeah. It’s nothing illegal, I promise,” you tell him, your attitude remaining pleasant. Peter stares at you, waiting for you to say more, but your smile only grows wider.

“Not telling,” you say, laughing quietly to yourself when Peter huffs in annoyance and grabs his drink. “You’ll just have to trust me. I’d never do anything illegal—you know me.”

“I dunno,” he responds, a playful lilt in his tone. “In college I seem to remember you stealing soft drinks from the mess hall without paying—”

“Oh c’mon,” you shoot back, and Peter grins, knowing you hate when he brings that up. “We were already paying to go to classes! Why should I pay 3 dollars for a cup of watered down coke?!”

Peter laughs as you go on a mini tangent about how college is a ripoff—ordering both you and him two more drinks when your waitress stops in to check on your table.

After a short while, your food comes out, and the two of you catch up over the hot meal. Conversation flows like normal—touching on any other life updates, and also local news topics, and things of the like.

At your insistence, Peter splits a tiramisu with you to close out the evening, and by the time the dessert is gone, Peter thinks he may explode.

“Ugh, why did I let you talk me into that?” Peter groans, curling over and holding his stomach as you fetch enough cash from his wallet to cover half the bill.

“Well, if you were smart like me, you would have kept half of your entree to take home with you for later, and then you would have had enough room left for dessert. Which, by the way, is too good to waste—so don’t puke it up.”

Your waitress swings by to grab the bill, and you assure her it’s all set—passing her the small stack of money taken from both your and Peter’s wallets. She thanks you with a smile, and then scurries away, leaving the two of you alone.

You reach over the table, patting Peter’s shoulder.

“You’ll be fine. Your stomachs gotten bigger, after all.”

“Hey—,” Peter frowns, lifting his head. You’re already grabbing your purse and takeout box—sliding out of the booth. He quickly follows after you.

“Are you calling me fat?”

“No,” you respond, holding the door open for him as the two of you step out into the cool New York air. “You’re actually still surprisingly in-shape for someone whose diet consists of pizza and frozen meals. But, that being said, you can’t deny you’ve put on a few pounds.”

Peter places a hand on his stomach.

“Remind me again why you’re so mean to me?”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound getting lost in the crowd around you.

“You just make it too easy,” you admit, grinning up at him. Despite himself, Peter smiles back.

Being the gentleman that he is, Peter fully intends to escort you back to the doorstep of your apartment building, but—

His spidey senses tingle, and he can tell something is off.

“Hey, um,” Peter grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. Before your brain can even catch up, he’s yanking you into a quick hug, and then backpedaling towards the alleyway the two of you had just passed.

“Sorry, I just remembered there’s something I have to do. It was nice seeing you! Let’s touch base soon!”

He’s gone before you can even get a word out, disappearing around the corner. You stare after him for a moment, befuddled, and then continue on your way with a sigh.

Same ‘ol Peter.

Exactly one hour later, Peter collapses in a pile of trash—his lungs heaving, and body aching. The fight itself hadn’t been that hard—just a few wannabe criminals with deadlier than normal weapons.

No, the real challenge had been not barfing up his dinner while doing acrobatics across the city.

And maybe laying in a pile of trash to take a breather isn’t exactly helping his current predicament, but fuck—he doesn’t have the energy to move right now

Spreading out his limbs, Peter stares up at the smog-coated night sky, his mind wandering. He thinks about a lot of things—all the villains he’s fought in his time as Spiderman, the people who have come in and out of his life during it all, including you. You…who apparently has a “side-gig”.

…but like, what kind of side-gig?

Peter groans, knowing he won’t be able to let this go.

You can’t just drop the knowledge that you have a secret side-gig on him and then not tell him what it is!

And if you’re insistent on keeping it a secret, it must be something bad, right? RIGHT??

“Goddammit,” he grumbles, picking himself up. He swings off into the night, his mind reeling.

Peter lasts all of 3-days before he decides he can’t be left alone with his thoughts anymore—that he just needs to confirm what exactly your side-gig is, before his theories can get any wilder.

Because so far, his top guesses are that you’re either 1. Unknowingly acting as a middle man for some illegal trafficking operation, or 2. Providing “services” to New York sleazebags to get in their wallets.

And Peter knows it’s likely neither option—you’re too smart to get roped into something stupid. Plus, you had assured him it was nothing illegal.

But if he doesn’t figure it out, he thinks he may explode.

So…he goes snooping.

It’s not his brightest moment—using the spare key you had given him “in case of emergency” to sneak into your apartment one evening. (But to be fair, to him…this might just be an emergency).

He’d used his spidey senses to scope out your apartment before coming in, so he knows you're not home. Which is good, but…he doesn’t know when you’re gonna be back either, so he has to move fast.

Softly closing the front door behind him, Peter tip-toes across your apartment, deciding to start in your bedroom. He stands in the doorway for a moment, guilt bubbling up inside of him, but he decides to push forward anyway.

He’s just making sure you’re okay, he tells himself. You’re one of his closest friends, and you won’t tell him your secret—so it’s understandable he’d be worried.

Like the true Sherlock that he is, Peter starts with you dressers. He quickly checks each drawer—gently lifting up the stacks of clothes to make sure nothing is hidden beneath them. (The only time doesn’t is when he encounters the drawer with your bras and panties. He simply stares at them with flushed cheeks, rocking awkwardly on his heels, before he quietly closes the drawer. Surely nothing would be in there anyway, right?)

The small stack of papers on your nightstand ends up being recent receipts, and a manual on how to use the white noise machine you've apparently just purchased, considering it's sitting on the floor beside your nightstand, still in the box.

Getting on his hands and knees, Peter does a quick check under your bed, and freezes when he spots a covered box. He pulls it out without thinking, tugging off the fabric lined lid—

—and immediately slams it back down.

…veiny, pink, silicon—

Peter haphazardly pushes the box back under the bed, hurrying to his feet. He bustles into the kitchen with cherry-colored ears.

All-in-all, it takes Peter about half an hour to search your apartment, and unfortunately…he comes up empty handed. It seems like you have nothing to hide (except a box of sex toys under your bed, but Peter thinks that’s pretty understandable. You don't want dumb assholes like him accidentally finding it, even though Peter had—)

Sighing, Peter takes one last glance around your apartment.

“Ugh, I shouldn’t have done this,” he sighs to himself, taking a step towards the door. But—not watching where he’s going, he stubs his toe into the leg of your coffee table.

A curse leaves his lips, and your opened laptop—which had previously been dark—jolts to life. Kicking the table must have moved your wireless mouse, Peter realizes.

Having already decided to leave, Peter fully intends to continue on his way. That is…before he takes a glance at your computer screen and sees that you have it open to a Google doc titled: “Spiderman x Reader Commission #6”.

…then, he’s scrambling onto your couch and yanking your laptop towards him.

“Number six??” he hisses dramatically, his eyes scanning over the document so fast that he doesn’t actually end up reading anything.

He has to pause and go back to try again, but the second Peter reads the sentence “Spiderman’s cock strains painfully against the tight confines of his suit, his fingers twitching against your waist as he drags you in closer”, his brain effectively blue screens.

In a panic, he clicks into a different tab that’s open—landing on your email inbox, where a thread sits open. A transaction between you and an apparent “customer”. Someone who had contacted you in regards to your open “commissions”.

Hi there!

I saw you’re accepting commissions, and I really enjoyed reading the other Spiderman fics you wrote! Would you be open to writing one for me? Preferably a Reader x Spiderman, and a smut/fluff genre. Based on the rate sheet, I think I can afford it, but I’d appreciate it if we could talk more and discuss the final price based on the idea I have.

Thanks!

Holy shit, Peter realizes. Your side-gig is writing Spiderman porn on commission.

He sinks back into the couch, his mind whirling.

How long has this been going on?? Do you…are you attracted to Spiderman?? As long as Peter has known you, you’ve never really fangirled over Spiderman. If Spiderman had popped up in the news, the two of you would talk about him, but…that was it.

And now you’re writing Spiderman smut for cash? Holy hell.

Peter supposes he should be relieved that what you’re doing truly isn’t illegal. That you’re just making money in a mostly innocent way, from the safety of your home. Meaning, Peter can call it quits, and leave.

…but instead, he leans forward, clicks back onto the Google doc tab, and starts reading more.

The document is still a work-in-progress, but Peter scrolls back up to the top, wanting to see how you’ve managed to set up this scenario.

As it turns out, a villain had injected Spiderman with some sort of aphrodisiac, and the reader is a bystander, bravely offering Spiderman her services to get him out of this pickle.

While embarrassing to admit, Peter gets sucked into the story—impressed by your ability to write, and your portrayal of him—err, Spiderman. In fact, he gets so distracted by the story and the multitude of thoughts running through his head that his spidey senses don’t kick in until danger is right on his doorstep.

Or, in reality, you are on your doorstep—your key shoving into the lock on the door.

Peter’s heart nearly rockets out of his chest, his eyes darting to the window across the room. It’s closed, and even if he used his web shooter to rocket over to it, he wouldn’t be able to safely open the window and escape outside in the two seconds it’s going to take you to finish unlocking your do—

Before he can even finish the thought, your front door shoves open, and you flick on the lights—your gaze immediately finding Peter, who is still firmly planted on your couch, looking like a deer in headlights.

You stare at him in shock.

“Peter? What…? Why are you here?”

“I was…worried about you,” Peter responds, forcing himself to smile. And it’s not like it’s a lie.

“You said you were strapped for cash, and I…I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

You kick the door shut behind you, your purse and keys discarded on the small table beside your entryway.

“I thought I told you to just trust me?”

You face him with a hand posed sternly on your hip. You appreciate his concern for you, but it’s a little upsetting that he hadn’t just been able to trust your word.

“I know,” Peter responds with a sigh. He runs a hand through his graying hair, and your gaze flits to his ears, noticing how red they are. Why is he so flushed?

“And I’m sorry. I’m dumb, I should have. Trusted you, I mean. I’ll just—,” he pushes himself up, planning to excuse himself and run, but freezes half way to his feet.

He’s half hard. Fuck.

If he gets up now, it’ll be a lot harder to hide that—especially since he’s wearing sweatpants.

Making a lil noise, Peter eases himself back down onto your couch. You cock an eyebrow.

“...you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry…back spasm.”

“Well, you don’t have to rush out. You’re welcome to stay for a while if you don’t have anywhere to be.”

You flash him a smile and turn towards the kitchen. Peter watches you as you open your fridge and bend down—fetching two bottles of water from the bottom shelf. His eyes glue to your ass the second you lean over, and Peter punches himself in the knee—forcing his gaze up towards the ceiling.

He’s going fucking insane. He’s not used to being this…feral feeling. Arousal is usually one of the emotions that evades him nowadays, but here he is—done in by fucking Spiderman fanfiction.

Who knew he’d get turned on reading about himself fucking some nameless woman? And who knew that arousal would make him thirst after you?

(Honestly, if he thinks about it, it’s not that surprising. The two of you have been friends for years, and he feels comfortable around you. Not to mention, you’ve always been attractive, even if you do like to push his buttons—)

“Here,” you say, snapping him out of his internal panic. You plop down onto the couch next to him, handing him one of the two bottles of water.

Peter reaches out to take it, and you notice the sweat beading on his brow. Why the hell is he—?

At that moment, you spot your laptop on the coffee table—open, and still showing the commission document you’d left open earlier on. Your first instinct is to reach over and slam your laptop shut before Peter can see—

…wait.

Peter reaches forward to take the water bottle from your grasp, but when he grips it, you don’t budge.

Confused, he looks up—only to find you intensely staring at him.

“Did you read it…?”

Peter’s face heats up, his eyes darting to the side to avoid looking at you.

Busted…

You pulse races, embarrassment blooming in your chest.

HE DID, you realize. HE READ IT. Your fucking Spiderman smut!

“Ah, shit…,” you mumble, letting go of his water bottle and crumpling in on yourself. You curl onto your side, hiding your face in the couch cushion.

Feeling horrible that he has embarrassed you—having discovered something you’d tried to keep private—Peter hurries to try and smooth over the situation.

“Okay, yes, I did read it,” he starts by saying. “But…it was…really good! You’re a good writer, and I can see why people are commissioning you! You’ll surely make some cash with the skill you have.”

If he was smart, he’d have stopped there, but no—Peter keeps going.

“A-And hey! I’d be willing to help too. Y’know, help give you some inspiration for your stories—”

His voice dies in his throat, realizing what it is he has just offered. And obviously, you realize it too—your head immediately lifting, staring at him with curious surprise.

“Did you just…offer…to fuck? To help me with my stories?”

The insinuation is so insane that you can’t help laughing. Peter coughs, straightening his shoulders out.

“I think I’d be very good inspiration for Spiderman.”

“Really?”

There’s disbelief in your voice. Peter narrows his eyes.

“You don’t think so?”

You hum, uncapping your water bottle and taking a swig. Peter mirrors you, his throat feeling dry.

“Spiderman is…suave and heroic, and you’re…dorky. Smart, but dorky.”

Peter frowns. “I can be…suave.”

You cock an eyebrow, a playful grin breaking out on your face. Your heart is racing a million miles an hour, because never did you think you’d be sitting here with Peter, the possibility of sex between the two of you suddenly laid out on the table. You’d never deny he’s an attractive male, and maybe because it’s him, and because you’ve missed the feel of another human being, you end up saying—

“Yeah? Show me then.”

You lean back, waiting to see if Peter will make a move.

Unfortunately, the realization that you’re open to whatever is happening right now causes Peter’s brain to stall, and he takes a second too long to act—just long enough to allow doubt to worm its way into your head.

You’re putting him on the spot. And he’s still probably dealing with some complicated feelings from the split—you shouldn’t have poked him.

Without saying anything, you decide to try and create some space. You push off of the couch, padding towards your bedroom. You’ll make an excuse about needing to fold your clothes, or something stupid—and hopefully Peter will take what you’ve said as a joke, and will move on. Yeah, that sounds like a solid plan—

Pausing in the doorway of your room, you force yourself to smile, and turn to face Peter—only to find that he’d snuck up on you—your gaze meeting his chest the second you turn around.

“Pe—,” you’re only able to get the first syllable of his name out, your chin tilting back as you look up at him. The feeling of his palm cupping your cheek is what makes your voice die out, his chestnut eyes boring into you.

You can see the hesitation on his face. A certain lack of confidence that you’re sure stems from his past relationship issues. But beneath that, you can see desire. A craving for intimacy he hasn’t shared in a long time.

You decide to be the one to close the gap—pressing onto your toes, your palm resting flat on his pec as you lean upward—connecting your lips with his. You can feel his heart racing beneath your fingertips, and you silently convince yourself that if Peter backs out, you’ll be fine with it.

Luckily, he doesn’t. His brain finally kicks into gear, his arm wrapping tightly around your waist as he kisses you back.

You make a pleasantly surprised little sound, your arms lifting to wrap around his neck—effectively deepening the kiss. A wrinkle appears between Peter’s eyebrows, his grip on your waist tightening. Your chest presses flat against his torso, and he rubs his thumb against your cheek, obsessed with the plushness of your lips and the feel of you against him.

It’s been way too long since he’s been intimate like this…that’s apparent by the blood absolutely rockets into his dick.

Although, to be fair, he’d already been half-hard before this.

“You think our local hero gets hard this quick?” you mumble against his lips with a grin, giggling when Peter makes a noise of annoyance and nips at you.

“You’d be surprised,” he responds. He slots his thigh between your knees, backing you into the doorframe. His clothed cock grinds against your stomach, trapped between your bodies, and his muscles tense.

“Adrenaline can go straight to the dick sometimes…”

(Peter has lost track of how many times, after an intense fight—especially earlier in his career—he’d swung home and immediately jerked off).

“That’s fair, I suppose.”

Your fingertips coast up the nape of his neck, tangling in the messy hair at the base of his skull. You yank him downward ever so slightly, your lips connecting with the skin of his neck. He immediately shivers, the first of many embarrassing sounds ripping from his chest as you lick and suck at his flesh.

“Think Spiderman whimpers?”

You’re teasing him. As to be expected, given the dynamic of your relationship. But Peter doesn’t intend on taking it quietly.

“Maybe,” he admits, “If you make him feel good enough. But if you wanna know what I think—”

Peter surprises you by ducking down—his arms looping around your thighs as he lifts you off the floor. Your squeal, arms and legs instinctively wrapping around him since you don’t want to fall, but Peter carries you easily enough—striding into your room and depositing you onto your bed.

He doesn’t waste any time—quickly caging you down. His knee reclaims its spot between your thighs, rubbing incessantly at the dampening fabric covering your privates, and his lips find your neck—a shiver raking up your spine as his stubble scratches against your skin.

“Peter,” you gasp when his fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt. His fingertips ghost over your heated skin, brushing past your waist, and finding the clasp of your bra. You have to arch to give him room to work, and Peter sucks a hickey of approval into your neck. He debates telling you “good girl”, but the thought leaves him the second your bra pops open.

He needs your tits in his mouth.

“—I think Spiderman has a thing for boobs,” Peter says, finally finishing his earlier statement. This exclamation is followed with the immediate removal of your shirt and bra—Peter forcibly tugging them over your head and discarding them on the floor beside your bed.

The sight of Peter groping you and lowering his mouth to your chest is enough to have your heart skipping a beat, and you can’t help the mewl that leaves you when Peter sucks one of your nipples into his mouth.

Peter groans when your fingers fist in his hair, practically keeping his mouth trapped where it is, which he hardly minds considering he intends to lick and suck at your tits until you’re panting.

And, that’s exactly what he does.

He lavishes your chest with his mouth—relishing in the way your hips jump at each little nip of his teeth or roll of your nipple between his fingers. It’s embarrassing, honestly, how wet it gets you—your panties feeling quite wet as you continue grinding your pussy against Peter’s thigh.

You try and think of some smart response in regard to Peter’s opinion that Spiderman is a tit man, not an ass man, but words seem to be avoiding you. You can’t think of anything coherently when Peter is touching you like this. Especially when his face finally leaves your chest, his lips peppering kisses down the length of your torso.

You lift your head to look at him, propping up on one of your arms. Peter reaches your navel, but doesn’t stop, heading towards—

“Peter,” you pant, your face flushing hotly as you realize the path he’s carving.

Peter hums, his eyes flitting up and meeting your gaze just as he hooks his thumbs beneath the band of your pants.

“Another thing about Spiderman…,” he begins, kissing the skin of your tummy as he inches your waistband down your hips. You watch him with blown-wide eyes, chest rising and falling rapidly—excitement and nervousness mingling inside of you.

You lift your ass off the mattress to help him shuck you of your bottoms, and Peter smiles, tossing your pants on the floor beside your other clothes.

Never in your life did you imagine the sight of Peter sinking to his knees, his hands gripping your hips and dragging you closer to him—his gaze falling between your legs. Your panties are soaked, and the sight causes more blood to rush into his dick. He’s so hard that it honestly hurts—just a little bit—but Peter still doesn’t touch himself, because—

“...Spiderman loves eating pussy.”

“He’s a people-pleaser,” you quip breathlessly, your thighs quivering in Peter’s hold when he presses a kiss to your skin, right beside your panty line. He quietly chuckles.

“Maybe.”

Peter thumbs at your clit through your panties, relishing in the whine he rips from your throat. You hips buck in his hold, craving more, and when Peter sees the desperate look on your face, he decides to not tease you.

Peeling your panties to the side, Peter finally connects his mouth with your pussy—his tongue licking a wet, broad strip between your folds.

Oh, shit, you think to yourself, the muscles in your abdomen convulsing as you watch one of your closest friends eat you out. The whole situation is making you feel light headed, so you can’t help it when you collapse back onto the mattress, your fingers fisting in the sheets as Peter groans into your cunt.

He eats you like a man starved, his face quickly becoming covered with your arousal. His nose bumps against your clit as his tongue sinks between your walls, and you full out whimper—your hips needily grinding against his mouth.

Peter’s palm presses down on your pelvis, forcing your hips to the mattress. He doesn’t want you squirming—just wants you desperate and pliant. To see you cumming on his tongue.

His name falls from your lips again, more debauched than he’s ever heard, and Peter curses.

“Shit.”

His tone is guttural, and sexy, and—

He presses a finger inside of you.

“Oh, fuck, Pete—,” his name deterorates into a moan, your brain function declining as Peter begins fucking his finger inside of you. At the same time, he focuses his mouth on your clit, his tongue urgently flicking against the bundle of nerves.

You unconsciously wriggle at the assault of stimulation, but Peter’s hand on your stomach keeps you in place.

Why is he so strong? You think to yourself, moan ripping from your chest as Peter slips in a second finger. It doesn’t take him long to locate that spongy little sweet spot inside of you. The one that causes your thighs to shake as he practically abuses it—rubbing the pads of his fingers against it repeatedly until you’re nearly sobbing.

The coil in your belly winds tight, heat searing your veins. You can feel your clit throbbing against Peter’s tongue, and the walls of your pussy tightening up around him.

“Peter,” you cry, your entire body trembling. You’re so fucking close.

“Cum,” he rasps. He needs to see you orgasm—needs to feel you unraveling on his mouth and fingers.

Hearing the gravel of his voice is the final nail in your coffin—the tension in your muscles releasing as your orgasm washes over you. Just as he wanted, you cum all over him, your cunt gushing arousal around his fingers as his tongue continues lapping at your clit, dragging out the waves of your pleasure until you’re panting and pawing at his head, trying to push him away.

After a moment, he relents—sitting back to look at you.

You’re covered in a sheen of sweat, your chest heaving, and an arm draped over your eyes. Your tits are peppered with an array of hickies, and Peter feels his chest (and cock) swell with pride. He’s clearly done a number on you. And yet…

You feel the mattress dip, and then the room is spinning around you. When things finally settle, you find yourself laying on top of Peter.

He has one arm wrapped around your waist, his palm resting on your ass. The other brushes a few stray strands of hair out of your face when you lean back to look at him.

“Spiderman also loves being ridden,” he says with a grin. You place your hands on his chest, feeling it rumble with laughter as he watches you struggle to sit up.

“You think I have the energy to ride you after you just did that? And why do you keep saying Spiderman enjoys these things like they’re facts—you don’t know.”

“Just a feeling,” he responds, licking his lips. His hands find your hips, and he grinds you downwards. Your sensitive pussy rubs against his aching length, still trapped behind his sweatpants, and it’s hard to miss the way Peter harshly swallows at the feeling.

You sigh, scooting backwards.

“Fine.”

You shove his sweats and boxers down his thighs, careful to not snag them on his dick. And damn, he really must be aching—a sticky string of precum dripping from the head of his cock, and pooling on his abdomen.

He opens his mouth, but you don’t give him the chance to say anything. Your fingers wrap around his cock, smearing his arousal across his length, and whatever Peter had been planning to say crumbles into a needy garble of non-words.

You can’t help but smile at the sound.

“Surprised you didn’t cream your pants already,” you tell him, but your tone is hardly teasing. No, seeing him beneath you like this—the muscles in his torso clenching with every stroke of your hand—it’s actually quite endearing.

“I’ll cum in your hand if you keep doing that,” he pants, glancing into your eyes. You spot nothing but lust there, any previous reservations gone.

“Is that so bad?” you ask, thumbing at the head of his cock. Peter’s grip on your waist tightens, and you hear him take a shaky breath.

“Yes.”

He wants to be inside you, that much is clear. And while it’d be so easy to draw it out and make him beg…you don’t feel like being mean to him. Not tonight, after he’d just given you the best oral of your life.

“Fine,” you relinquish. You scoot forward, planting one hand on his chest, and gripping the base of his cock with the other. Peter’s breath catches when you rub the head of his cock between your folds, a heady groan following a beat later as you begin sinking down onto him.

By the time his cock is fully inside of you, your thighs are shaking. Whether from the lack of energy due to your previous orgasm, the remarkable size of Peter inside of you, or both—you’re not totally sure.

“There’s no rush,” Peter reassures you, but the needy warble of his voice betrays his words.

“My legs might give out at some point,” you respond with a breathless laugh, and Peter echos you, giving your waist a squeeze.

“That’s fine. I’ll help.”

With your palms planted firmly on his chest, you begin to ride him.

And god, you feel so fucking good.

“Fuck,” Peter bites out, watching the space between your bodies, where his cock disappears inside of you with every roll of your hips. It’s been ages since a cunt has squeezed his dick like this, and honestly, he can see himself very easily getting addicted to the feel of you.

The bounce of your tits as you ride him, the cute little sounds you make when his cock rubs against the sensitive spots inside you—he feels like he’s going crazy.

“Peter,” you whine, your pace flattering. Having his cock inside of you is incomparable to the feeling of his fingers, and very quickly, you can feel another orgasm building, but…the closer you get, the more your strength falters.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he responds, praises falling from his lips. “You’re doing so good. You feel so good.”

His words cause your walls to clench around him, and he groans—his hands sliding down to your hips as he helps rock you down onto his cock. The sloppy sound of sex fills your bedroom, and you watch Peter with half-lidded eyes, soaking up the desperation showing on his face.

His hair is slicked back with sweat, brows pinched together in concentration as he forces you to continue riding him. At least, until he starts craving more.

With his orgasm quickly approaching—despite the immense pleasure he gains seeing you bouncing on top of him—Peter’s hunger gets the best of him.

He grabs your wrists, moves your arms so they’re wrapped around his shoulders, and then secures his arms around your back. Before you can even digest the slight change in position, Peter is fucking you.

An incoherent string of noise slips past your lips, your fingernails digging into his shoulders as his cock pistons inside of you. With his arms trapping you against his chest, you’re helpless but to take it—your orgasm rushing to the surface at the desperate yet brutal pace that Peter sets.

“Peter,” you sob into his neck.

“It’s okay,” he responds without missing a beat, his voice breathless. “I’m right there. Cum for me again, sweetheart.”

As if you could stop.

Holding onto him for dear life, you cum for the second time that night—your walls clamping down on his cock so tightly that Peter’s rhythm falters. A curse rips from his throat, and his hands find the plush of your ass—stuffing your body down onto his dick as he cums along with you—pumping you full of his seed.

The needy tension of the room melts away, and you and Peter can only lay there—a pile of sweaty yet sated flesh. It takes you both a minute to catch your breaths, and you make a quiet noise of disappointment when Peter’s cock slips out of you.

You can feel his cum running out of your pussy.

“Your balls aren’t dried up yet?”

Peter’s chest rumbles beneath you.

“I’m in my 30’s, not my 60’s.”

You glance up at him when you feel Peter’s fingers clearing the hair away from your face, and he smiles at you. Your heart jumps.

He must know how handsome he is, right? Even with that crooked nose of his.

“Don’t you ever get tired of taking cracks at me?” he wonders, using his grip on your ass to slide you farther up his chest. You giggle, cupping his cheeks as you find yourself suddenly face to face with him.

“Mmmm, no?”

He rolls his eyes, yet his smile widens. You lean down to kiss him, and he reciprocates easily enough.

“Feeling good?” you ask him, carding your fingers through his hair. He nods.

“Very. I…really missed that.”

“Same,” you agree, sitting back. You need to get to the bathroom before any cum gets on your nice sheets. You crawl off of Peter, swinging your legs over the side of your mattress. He rolls onto his side, watching you with furrowed brows as he tucks his dick back into his pants.

“Same? You haven’t—?”

“Not in a while,” you admit, pulling a fresh shirt and a pair of panties from your dresser drawers. You’re about to make a joke that the only action you’ve gotten recently is from the toys stashed under your bed, but when you turn to look at the spot where they’re hidden, you find that…the box has moved. It’s not where you had left it.

“Did you…find my sex toys? Before I came home?”

Peter’s face goes carefully blank, but the red flush of his ears betrays him.

You shoot him a glare, leaving your room with a huff.

“Dude doesn’t trust me…how fucking rude…”

“Hey now—!”

Peter’s feet pound against the floor as he chases after you, and he catches you around the waist just before you make it into your bathroom. His lips press against the crown of your head.

“Again, I’m sorry for snooping. I’m dumb.”

You sigh, wriggling around to face him.

“You are,” you agree, lightly patting his chest. “Dumb, and insistent that Spider man loves tits, eating pussy, and getting ridden. Still holding those beliefs?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Peter grins. “And I have other beliefs about his preferences as well.”

“Of course you do,” you laugh. You kiss his cheek, and then step out of his hold—heading into the bathroom.

“I’m going to shower,” you tell him. “There’s some leftovers in the fridge if you want any.”

Peter nods, and the last thing you see is him heading for your fridge when you close the bathroom door.

30 minutes later, you exit your steaming bathroom in your fresh oversized t-shirt and panties, fully expecting to find Peter lounging around your apartment, eating all your food. But…to your utter disappointment, you don’t spot him anywhere.

You sigh, shoulders sagging. Had it been too much to assume he would have wanted to stay the night?

Shuffling into your kitchen, you spot an empty plate on your table. One that you know had previously been piled high with leftover chicken and potatoes.

“He eats my food and runs off…of course,” you mumble, picking up the plate to put it in the sink. However, before your annoyance can truly get the better of you, a piece of paper that had been stuck to the bottom of the plate floats to the ground.

You bend over to pick it up.

Hey!

Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to stay so long, so I left my apartment earlier without locking the door. I’m running back home to lock it, but I should be back at your place by 9!

Don’t get mad at me. I’d never run off without a word :p

-PB

PS. I have a working theory that Spiderman also has more stamina than you’d expect, even for a guy who’s been doing hero work for 20+ years, so…round two when I get back?

You can’t help but laugh.

What an idiot.

But…you like him.

#peter b parker x reader #peter b parker smut #peter b parker #i can't believe I'm posting this on tumblr #immediately going back to only posting on AO3 bc it's so much easier to format LMAO #fic #reader insert #reader x peter b parker #peter b parker x you #peter b parker x y/n

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simplysturn · 3 months

Text

Road Rage❕

Reader x Matt Sturniolo

warnings: soft dom matt, praise kink, smut, unprotected p in v etc. mdni, this one isn’t for you.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

“Fucking move! Jesus Christ!”

My boyfriend’s road rage today was more intense than usual.

“Baby, you ok?” I asked, slightly giggling at his frustration, finding it kind of endearing.

“This idiot just needs to get the fuck out of the middle of the fucking intersection!”

As his eyes focus on the road attempting to navigate us through the traffic, I find myself looking up at him, more like staring at him, with a shit-eating grin plastered on my face. Why is he so fucking hot when he’s mad?

Finally out of the traffic and onto the freeway, Matt lets out a quiet sigh of relief, snapping out of the agitated trance he was in just 10 seconds earlier. Stopped at a red light, he looks at me and catches me mid-stare. I hold eye contact with him, still smiling.

“What?” he slightly giggles.

“What do you mean what?” I softly laugh back.

“You’re staring, baby,” he replies as he turns his eyes back to the road.

I reach out and take his right hand and place it on my bare thigh. I’m wearing a skirt today. After placing his hand down, I feel a wet spot start to pool in my panties. Of course, just when we had a long drive ahead of us, Matt is unknowingly making me incredibly horny. The wetness between my legs only kept on growing as he started softly stroking my thigh.

I gently start guiding Matt’s hand down in between my thighs. I take it slow, trying not to distract him from the road, half hoping he doesn’t notice. Despite my attempt, he quickly catches on and starts flickering his gaze back and fourth between the road and me. As I help him slip his hand underneath my panties, he looks me up and down.

“Do you realise how fucking hot you are when you’re mad?”

He blushes and swallows hard, dipping his middle finger down to collect some of my wetness. He drags it back up, drawing small circles on my clit as I hold my panties aside for him.

“So this is because I had road rage?” He smirks.

“Mhm,” I half-moan in response as I reach my hand across his waist and start to unbuckle his belt, which he assists me with. I reach underneath his jeans and begin palming him over his boxers. Reacting to my touch, his eyes shut for just a moment, paired with a mostly silent sharp breath, and his jaw flops open. He looks so fucking good.

“I’m pulling over.”

He grips my hand that’s already moving on him and adds pressure, making me rub him harder. As he takes the next exit off the freeway, I unbuckle my seatbelt and lean down over his lap.

My boyfriend peers down at me and places his previously occupied hand gently on my head and runs his fingers through my hair, knowing full well what I’m about to do. I tug at the waistband of his boxers until he’s fully exposed. His now fully erect cock is pressing against his stomach, his tip red and leaking.

“Want your mouth on me, baby. Please.”

He nervously watches me as I reach down and touch myself, collecting some of my arousal before using it as lube to stroke him. I love that Matt still gets a little shy whenever I’m the one to initiate anything sexual.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” he quietly mumbles to himself. Soft whimpers start escaping him as I place my lips around him and begin to gently suck on his sensitive tip, teasing him.

Matt pulls over into a secluded rest area and puts the car in park before turning off the engine. He eagerly unbuckles his seat belt and watches me, stroking my hair as I continue to use my mouth on him. We’re both moaning. I love making Matt feel good. His eyes are rolled into the back of his head as I pleasure him with my mouth. I can feel myself dripping with excitement, thinking about how badly I need to feel my pussy sink down onto him.

“If you d-don’t stop, I’m gonna cum,” he stutters. “Come up here and kiss me, baby.”

I replace my mouth with my hand and lift myself up to kiss him as requested.

As if he’s reading my mind mid-kiss, Matt wraps both of his arms around me tightly and pulls me over into the driver’s seat on top of him. Holding my body against him with his right arm, his reaches to recline the seat with his left. I start grinding myself against him with only my panties in between us, desperate for friction.

“Matt, I need you,” I whine.

“Let’s take these off,” he looks at me for approval. I nod and bite my bottom lip.

He hooks both of his thumbs underneath either side of my panties and slides them down around my ankles. I hover over his lap and align myself with him. He uses one hand to stabilise his aching cock against my slit and the other to hold my hip, helping me ease down until he’s fully inside of me. It takes me a moment to adjust to his size.

“You good, baby?”

"Mhm." I start riding him, and he responds, matching my rhythm. "Yes, Matt, that’s it. Fuck me, baby.”

Matt’s pace quickens and I’m desperately bouncing. He pulls at the hem of my shirt, and I instinctively lift my arms above my head. He throws my shirt aside and places his hands on my breasts, which were covered by a white, lacey bralet I had picked out this morning. I quickly remove his shirt in return. He starts leaving wet kisses across my chest and along the top of my breasts as we continue to fuck each other. He snakes his tattooed arm around my waist, running his hand up my back and smoothly unclasping my bra before returning his hand to my ass, guiding me and helping me ride him.

“You feel so good, so wet for me,” Matt moans.

I’m moaning, there’s so much I want to say, yet I can’t seem to form a single word. I’m consumed by the pleasure. “I-oh my god, fuck yes,” is eventually all I manage to get out.

“I know baby, doing so well for me. Taking me so well.” Matt praises me, which only makes me want more. “Look at me while I fuck you.” He demands softly.

I lock eyes with him. “I’m so fucking wet for you Matt. Holy shit,” I kiss him and he kisses me back, hard.

He briefly breaks the kiss, “Yeah? Am I making you feel good?”

“So fucking good, I’m so close.”

Matt quickly continues kissing me and moves his hands to my now bare breasts, squeezing them. My arms wrap around his neck.

“Your tits are so perfect, fuck,” he takes turns sucking on each of my nipples.

The pace shifts as I transition my bouncing into grinding, using Matt’s body to create pressure against my needy clit. My nails are clawing at his bare chest.

“You gonna cum for me baby?” He asks while reaching down to play with my clit to help me reach my high.

“Mhm, s-so close. Keep talking to me like that.”

“You look so pretty baby, using me to get off. So fucking tight around me.”

“Oh fuck, oh my god, I’m gonna fucking cum.”

Matt’s fingers are now at full speed circling my clit while I chase my high.

“Cum for me, baby. That’s it, cum all over me.”

“Fuck!” I cry out, moaning loud as I release all over Matt’s cock.

Matt wasn’t far behind, as I was coming down I felt him start to throb inside of me. My pussy was pulsing around him, practically milking him. “Fuck, baby, I’m cumming in you,” he softly moans into my ear, squeezing his eyes shut while they uncontrollably roll into the back of his head. As he begins to come down from his high, he starts placing soft, broken kisses on my lips, while squeezing my thighs.

We’re both breathing heavy, trying to catch our breath. We look at eachother and share a smile and a soft giggle, Matt still rubbing his hands up and down my thighs.

I help him pull up his boxers and jeans and he helps me pull my panties back up. I ask Matt to pass me my bra and my top. Once we’re situated, I reach for my water bottle and have a sip.

“Want some?”

He nods and takes a sip before placing the bottle back down and sliding his arms around my waist.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says quietly, holding my gaze.

I feel myself blush and initiate a slow, passionate kiss to thank him for his compliment.

“Should we get back on the road? Sorry for distracting you,” I say half jokingly. Matt rolls his eyes at me and we chuckle.

“I don’t think an apology is necessary, sweetheart.”

As I climb back over into my seat, Matt keeps me steady with a hand on my back, and then we both buckle up.

“Can I put some music on?”

Matt nods and passes me the aux. I put on our joint playlist and he starts driving.

“If I put my hand on your leg, will I have to pull over again?,” he jokes, placing his hand on me anyway.

“Should be fine. But if we run into traffic and you road rage again, I make no promises, Matthew.”

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

notes !

*this is my own original writing. i do not give consent for my work to be published outside of tumblr. i do not give consent for anybody to steal or claim this story as their own*

anyway ugh this is my first time properly writing a fic so i hope ya’ll enjoyed, i stayed up til 4am finishing this ur welcome 😭 ALSO i was gonna add these cute asf pics that match the vision i had in my head of this fic but it wouldn’t let me drag them to the top fml. if u have any requests send them in my asks and whenever i’m in the mood to write i’ll pick an idea from there !

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut

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eunoiaastralwings · 5 months

Text

Effects of a Truth Serum

featuring bucky x girlfriend!reader

fandom mcu- tfatws era

a/n dont ask me why i just did - it was a crack idea that got out off hand

warnings crack fic, fluff. innuendo (?) - SMUG BUCKY IS A WARNING. illusion into smut. and before you read just know am dyslexic. also the reader lowkey became my oc again. . . oop

You cover your mouth as you tried not to laugh as her boyfriend – who managed to get injected with the truth serum while they were trying to stop a few the flag smashers.

“you poor poor thing. . .”

You tease Bucky seeing how he looked annoyed and grumpy as he sat across from her – he was definitely mad at himself.

Bucky looks up at you.

Despite being under the influence of the Truth Serum – he’s annoyed by his girlfriend’s teasing and playful nature.

He doesn’t say anything – but the annoyed expression plastered on his face is clear enough.

You grins at your grumpy looking boyfriend.

“How you feeling, sergeant?”

You teased him cutely.

Bucky raises his eyebrow a little, slightly irritated by your continued teasing.

He finally breaks his silence.

“I feel. . . cranked; weird. This stuff’s really messing with my head.”

He looks at you – his expression slightly softer now but still slightly annoyed.

You sighed – gently holding his hand caressing it knowing he hated things that messed with his head or mind.

Bucky’s eyes follow your hand as you hold his.

His grip tightens slightly as you rub his hand. After a moment – his expression softens a little but his annoyance with the truth serum still hasn’t subsided.

Then you smirk – seemingly have very bright idea as she looked back up at your boyfriend holding back a huge mischievous grin.

Bucky watches you as you look up at him. He raises an eyebrow in curiosity, clearly wondering what exactly she’s planning.

“So. . .I just realized, I can ask you any question I want.”

You snickered.

Bucky doesn’t say anything at first.

He watches you and your mischievous grin with growing suspicion and curiosity – knowing exactly where this is leading. After a moment, he responds.

“I suppose you could. . .”

You smirked and leaned back crossing her arms thinking of the perfect questions.

As you lean back and thinks of the perfect questions to ask him, Bucky’s curiosity grows and he leans forward slightly – his eyes locked on you.

“How many women have actually been with back in the 40s!”

You instantly blurts out asking him – knowing he was quite the ladies man.

He raises his eyebrows and looks at you, and then he can’t help but let out a chuckle.

“I don't know the exact number. . .but more than you can count on two hands. . .and more. . .”

He shrugs his shoulders – still smirking.

Your jaw dropped “James. Buchanan. Barnes!”

“It doesn’t count if it was in war time!”

He mutters as if it were a valid excuse.

“Oh, of course, you probably slept with every nurse in the camp, didn’t you?”

You rolled your eyes at him.

“Not every nurse.”

He chuckles.

“But. . .I think. . .a lot of them. Yeah. . .”

He says thinking – causing you to raise an eyebrow at him.

“I was lonely, okay? And, I was young. And. . . hormonal.”

He shrugs again.

You smirk as the truth serum causes Bucky to say more of the truths.

Bucky clears his throat looking away – seemingly trying to keep himself shut; a faint blush from embarrassment on his cheeks.

“Right then. . .Hmm. . .”

You leaned back thinking of questions.

He waits patiently - or, as patiently as he can. The truth serum is doing its so-called magic.

Then she smirks again.

“When, how and where did you lose your virginity?”

His eyes widen.

“Jesus Christ. . .”

Bucky sighs and looks at you.

“You are making me answer everything, aren’t you?”

He’s slightly nervous – but doesn’t deny what he had just said.

You only smirk at your boyfriend.

“You know about mine”

You said.

“Yeah! Because I’m the one that took it! – I hate you right now!”

He rolls his eyes, but the smirk never leaves his face.

You only smirk as you watch him fight against the truth serum.

Bucky tries to hold it back – shutting his eyes but it was forced out.

“You’re evil”

Bucky laughs, slightly annoyed. But he doesn't lie to answer the question.

“The first time was in a bar. . .with a random waitress. . . in the back of the kitchen. . .Or back alleyway. I don’t even remember.”

He shrugs – “I was young and stupid.”

You just blink at him

“Wow. . .”

You whispered.

“What? You thought I was always a saint?”

He laughs lightly.

“I wasn’t always Winter Soldier, doll.”

“Come on. We were soldiers, back in the 40s. It was practically guaranteed to hook-up with other soldiers.”

Bucky smirks at the memory – “It was fun, I can't deny it.”

“Funny, how you can remember all that but not anything else!”

You narrowed your eyes at your boyfriend.

“I remember. . .certain parts of my time in the 40s.”

He looks back at her, smirking.

“I remember the women” He chuckles. – “It was one of the perks of being a soldier, back then.”

“Do you have a death wish?”

She asked her boyfriend – growing a little jealous now.

“Don’t start, doll”.

He says, knowing he’s in trouble. – “Relax.”

He looks into your eyes again – “It was a lifetime ago, honey. I’m all yours now.”

But you still had your eyes narrowed.

“Y/N. . .”

Bucky sighs – still looking into your eyes.

“I’m in love with you. It’s been years since I’ve even spoken of any of the women from my past. Can’t we just move on?”

He tries to smile in a reassuring way.

“I’m your only one. All the other women from my past. . .”

He chuckles to himself.

“They’re all just a distant memory at this point.”

Bucky says – gently tries to coax you into his arms again.

“Promise?”

You asked – as you reluctantly lets yourself be pulled into his arms.

“Always, doll.”

He smiles and wraps his arms around you.

“Just trust me, Y/N. I’m yours. . .and only yours.”

He gently leans in to kiss him.

You smile and softly kiss him back.

It wasn’t long before Bucky placed your back against the mattress too.

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maybankluvrrr · 3 months

Text

games

rafe cameron x fem!reader (18+)

warnings: dom!rafe (has soft moments), mentions of vaping, mentions of consent, oral sex (m receiving)

summary: rafe plays little games with you to win back your vape. you are sarah’s long time friend, but with her gone with the pogues, you’ve grown fond of spending time with rafe.

you and rafe have been hanging out as friends since sarah betrayed you guys and left obx with the john b and the rest of the pogues. you’ve always had a thing for rafe, but he’s rafe. first of all, he was your best friends brother and also he was known for his anger issues, freak outs, and overall fuck boy energy. you steered clear of ever catching real feelings for rafe so you wouldn’t ruin your friendship with sarah and to protect your own sanity from his issues. but now with ward and sarah gone, both of your “issues” have fleeted and it’s just the two of you.

rafe just got out of the shower and he gets dressed. when he leaves his room, he finds your vape sitting on the banister of the stairs. thinking you must be preoccupied with some other activity since your vape isn’t glued to your hand. he decides to put it into the pocket of his board shorts and play a little game with you.

he steps down the stairs and sees you’re lounging on the cameron’s big white couch in the living room in the house that now all belongs to rafe, meaning it’s just the two of you in the mansion. you’re watching the olympics gymnastics tournament. rafe couldn’t give a single fuck about whatever your watching and is just excited to mess with u.

“fuck!” you scream when the gymnast messes up on her routine on the bars.

“sheesh, someone’s pressed.” rafe walks in taunting you. “it’s just a fucking girl swinging on bars in a leotard.”

“rafe shut the fuck up, i’m watching.”

rafe’s tongues caves through his cheek, “shit, i thought you knew better than to speak to me this way.”

“i’m sorry just let me watch this.” all worked up, you start patting on your pockets, “for god’s sake, where’s my fucking vape.” you say to yourself.

rafe sits across from you with a smirk on his face, knowing he has your precious little nicotine in his back pocket. he lets you flail around and tear up the couch looking for it for a good 5 minutes until you scream, “jesus fucking christ!! where is this fucking thing.” at this point you’ve gone into the kitchen, sarah’s bedroom that you’ve been staying in some nights, and every bathroom and corner of this house looking for your vape.

you walk back into the living to find rafe man spreading on the couch with your vape hanging out of his mouth with a smirk painted on his face. he chuckles at you as the smoke flies out of his mouth. “this strawberry ice tastes mad good.” he mutters with that same stupid smirk on his face, taking the vape in his hand and looking at it, then back up at you.

“funny” you say sarcastically, walking over to rafe and reaching your hand out to grab the vape out of his hand when he tries to place it back into his mouth, but your stopped when his other hand grabs your wrist.

“sweetheart, it’s not gonna be that easy.” dropping your wrist from his grip.

“rafe, im not fucking around i need it right now” you say desperately, “im not playing fucking games right now. we can share if you want i just ne-”

“y/n” he cuts you off “i think we both know just what you need” he puts the vape into his mouth taking a long hit.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you say, scared he can read your mind. you’ve need rafe for a long time.

“don’t play dumb. why the fuck else would you be staying in my house like every other day for the past 2 weeks. you just have a need to sleep in your estranged best friends room all the fucking time? which happens to be 2 doors down from mine?”

“i-” you say speechless.

“you what.”

“rafe i always fucking liked you okay!!” you finally say.

“there she is.” rafe says dragging out the e at the end of there. taunting you. again.

“there. ok, i said it. can i have my vape back now??”

he continues to take puffs of it all while you’ve been talking, knowing you’ll do anything to get it back.

“i’m not fucking playing games rafe.” you say again.

“who’s the one with the vape? it’s me. sit.” he demands.

you’re weak for rafe and he knows this. you sit next to him on the couch. he waves the vape in front of his face, thinking of what you could do for him to earn your prized possession back. rafes been showing you his soft side the past couple weeks, thinking you were only there to you know, keep the memories of your old friend now that she ran away, but you knew he had to crack eventually. this sweet get up was not gonna last long.

“y/n, there’s one thing you could do to get this little thing back.”

“yeah..?” you say curiously.

“suck my dick.” he says an inch away from your ear.

“rafe..” you say while he kisses your jawline.

“baby, if you don’t want it just say that. i’m really fucking with you, i-if you don’t want to, that’s okay.” he stammers in between kisses. “can’t be playing too many games with you, gotta get consent.”

you turn to face him completely and smash your lips against his, confirming your consent.

you’re now straddling his lap, forgetting completely about your vape and why you ended up in this position. you’re making out sloppily and his hands are roaming around every inch of you body that is shown through your tee shirt and short-shorts. you begin to grind your needy cunt into his dick getting him hard. he knows he has you wrapped around his finger now. you’re blinded in a haze of lust, wanting this for so long.

“so do i have your consent?” he abruptly says breaking this kiss. you scoff and keep kissing him. wiping that stupid smirk off of his face.

“on the floor.” he says. you kneel down onto the floor and unbutton his shorts. stroking him through his thin boxers feeling his impressive length, you got him pretty hard during your make out session by all the grinding over his shorts. you rub his hard dick while looking up at him. “hurry up, baby” he says.

“who’s the needy one now?” you say with a smirk.

“yeah, yeah.” his hands stroking through your hair and bunching it up to keep his grip on your head.

you hastily pull down his boxers and his hard on springs up to hit his stomach. you stroke up and down his length watching the pre-cum spill out of his tip. you slowly lick up the sides of his cock, eliciting small grunts out of rafe. his hand grips your hair harder, hinting at you to hurry the fuck up.

your eyes meet his, and your mouth reaches the tip of his massive length and your hand works the base of his dick since your mouth can’t fit it all.

he pushes your head down further, fucking into your mouth while your hands fondle with his balls. “fuck why did we wait so long for this shit, your mouth his fucking amazing.”

you hum on his dick in response, sending vibrations through his body, letting out yet another grunt from his lips.

he continues fucking into your mouth, “i’m close i’m so fucking close. fuck!!” you feel his dick twitch in your mouth, your mouth finally bottoming him out due to the pressure of his hand on your head and the pleasure this is giving you. the tip of your nose is hitting his stomach while he fucks up into your mouth one last time before his load shoots up into your mouth. “swallow” he says. and of course, you do. “good fucking girl.”

you pick your head up from his long shaft, catching your breath. his hands stroking through your hair trying to calm you down. “shit was i too hard on you?”

you’re too foggy to respond to that question. “where’s my vape?” you say instead.

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe imagine #rafe obx #rafe smut #rafe outer banks #rafe fanfiction #rafe x you #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #obx smut #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey

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loveinhawkins · 1 year

Text

Part 1

Steve had thought he already knew what delirium meant—remembers laughing hysterically in a Russian bunker with little say as to what bullshit came streaming out of his mouth.

But this is different. At least back then, the haze of the drugs made the pain temporarily float away, let him drift off into some form of blissful ignorance.

Now he feels it all. He’s hyperaware, can pinpoint each and every source of agony lancing through him; can even pick out the fact that the cut on his hand still throbs, the tar-like mud of The Upside Down stuck under his fingernails.

Sometime after he had fallen, the bats stopped coming. He doesn’t know why. Maybe they’ve had their fill. Maybe there’s nothing more of him left to take.

Sound comes to him as if filtered through a megaphone, loud and echoing. He hears a series of swears, yelling. Panting. The crash of a bicycle being thrown to the ground.

Eddie.

The words come pouring out, quicker even than the blood leaving him, a desperate chanting.

“Dustin, Dustin, Dustin—”

“He’s okay,” Eddie says. His face comes into view, pale and drawn, slick with sweat. No blood though, Steve thinks. No blood on him. That’s good. “He’s okay, you hear me? I didn’t leave him alone; the girls, they’ve—they’ve got him. Hey. Hey, Harrington, eyes on me. Dustin—he’s gonna be all right, man, I stopped the bleeding.”

“Good,” Steve gets out. I knew you could, I knew you could, you’re fucking incredible. “S’good. Hey, Eddie, he’s—think he’s gonna be really upset, ‘kay?”

“What do you—”

“But he has you,” Steve says. He hates the fact that his voice is slurring. If he can’t speak, how else is Eddie supposed to know that… “He has—you’ll help him, right? You can… play D&D, an’…”

Eddie’s laugh splits through the air. It sounds something like grief.

“Harrington, that’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

“No, it’s not,” Steve insists. There’s blood in his mouth, in his throat; he tries to swallow without choking, to talk around it. “It’s—you make him happy, Eddie. Don’t you know? You make him s-so damn happy.”

“Shut up.”

Eddie’s breathing has an odd, thick sound to it, and Steve realises with a distant wonder that he’s crying. Crying over him. What a strange thing…

A series of sharp claps cut through everything; Steve blinks, can’t remember his eyes closing to begin with.

Eddie’s face is suddenly very close. His lips are shaking.

“Wake up. Now you’re gonna fucking listen to me, Steve Harrington. We didn’t go through all of this fucking bullshit, just for it to end here, you understand? I said, do you understand?”

“Are you mad at me?” Steve breathes. A far-off part of him insists that this is such a silly thing to ask, but he can’t help it. Everything hurts, and he has a sudden, awful burst of clarity: that he doesn’t want to die thinking that Eddie hates him. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

Eddie’s face crumples. “No, Steve,” he says haltingly, like he’s trying so hard to keep his voice from breaking. “I’m not mad at you. J-just. Scared.”

And then for a terrible moment, Eddie disappears. Steve tries to turn his head to search for him, but he can’t—

The sound of someone retching.

Oh, Steve thinks. Oh, it’s because of me.

“H-hey. Hey, Eddie, it’s okay, it’s okay. Don’t look.”

He hears Eddie spit harshly.

“Jesus Christ, stop talking, Harrington.”

And then Eddie is right there again, his hands just hovering, not touching.

“Steve,” he whispers, but Steve gets the feeling that he isn’t actually talking to him, not really. “God, I don’t—don’t know what to do.”

“You’re back,” Steve says, almost dream-like, and when Eddie laughs, this time it’s a pretty sound.

“Yeah, I’m back. Like a bad penny.”

“No,” Steve murmurs, feels like he’s floating somewhere—feels perhaps that he shouldn’t be, but he can’t help it. “You’re beautiful.” Eddie’s eyes soften, and that probably should be a nice sight, Steve thinks, except for the fact that, for some reason, Eddie also looks like his heart is breaking.

There’s something soft being wrapped tightly around his hand, and it stings, but that’s okay, because when Steve glances down, he can discern just enough to see that it’s Eddie’s bandana.

And it’s a nice thought, that he can still feel this. Can still feel something of Eddie’s trying to heal him.

“Right, big guy, up and at ‘em.” Eddie’s hand in his, the clack clack clack of the metal rings.

Oh, he’s shaking, Steve thinks.

Then he realises what Eddie’s planning to do.

“Eddie, m’sorry, can’t—can’t walk, jus’—”

“Shut up,” Eddie says again. “I’m gonna carry you.”

“But that’s—s’too much. M’too heavy.”

“No,” Eddie says simply. “C’mon, on three.”

But Eddie’s a liar and moves him on two. That’s all right, Steve thinks. He knows that kind of trick, knows that Eddie’s pulling out all the stops for him.

Doesn’t stop him from screaming, though.

“God,” Eddie whispers, and Steve already knows this isn’t for him to hear, but he can’t shut it out. “Fuck, I think I’m killing you.”

You couldn’t, Steve wants to say. Wants to tell Eddie not to worry. You couldn’t ever hurt me.

But he can’t stop screaming.

“S’too much,” he moans.

“No, come on,” Eddie says. He’s straining, still walking. Not giving up. “Hey, Steve, just a few more steps. We’re almost home.”

Oh, you liar, Steve thinks. Wants to smile. Wants to cry. You beautiful, beautiful liar.

“S’too much,” he says again, and he hopes Eddie gets what he means, this time. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh my god,” Eddie says, and there’s a whine in there that hurts—like Eddie’s crying again. “Steve, don’t—hey, just keep talking to me. Don’t—please.”

Another step. Eddie tugs, pulls him closer and—

Steve gasps, feels a tear, right through the centre of him, through all of him, hears a dreadful scream—

And then nothing at all.

#goddamn i knew this would happen lol 3 parts then???#the universes in which steve is self-sacrificing are never ending #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

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lesbianrobin · 1 year

Text

lesbianrobin fic scraps #5: you construct intricate rituals to be lifted by other men

"You do know that you have curly hair, right?"

"Uh, yeah," Eddie says, yanking a brush through his hair and wincing at the ripping sound.

"So you're destroying it on purpose? It's, like, a metal thing?"

"Huh?"

"Do you even use conditioner?"

"I didn't invite you here so you could heckle me in my own home."

Steve leans against the front door, all casual like he hangs out in Eddie's living room all the time. "You didn't invite me here, I came to pick you up and you weren't ready. Also, I'm not heckling," Steve says, "Just observing. You don't, do you?"

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do,” Eddie says, “It’s called two-in-one shampoo and conditioner, asshole.”

Steve lets out a noise that's halfway between a groan and a gasp. "You're joking."

Eddie raises an eyebrow.

"Oh my God, you're not joking," Steve mumbles, eyes wide.

Eddie drops his hairbrush on the coffee table and grabs his keys. "Didn't realize I needed perfect hair to ride in Steve Harrington's fancy car."

"No, but you do need shoes."

Eddie looks down.

"Oh," he says. "Yeah, that would probably help."

"After this party, you and I are going to the store and getting you some real shampoo and conditioner."

Eddie's still tying his right shoe, seated in the passenger seat of Steve's BMW. "I shudder to think what overpriced garbage you consider the baseline for hair-care products."

“Whine any more and I'm buying you leave-in, too.”

“What's leave-in?”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve says mournfully, looking up at the sky as if asking the man himself to lend some strength before starting his car.

Eddie observes as they pull out of the trailer park. “So, O Great Master of the haircare arts, how did you acquire such knowledge on the demands of curly hair?”

“Did you miss when people called me 'The Hair' for four years?”

“Your hair isn’t curly.”

“What, I’m not allowed to know things?” Steve sounds agitated, and he looks straight ahead at the road, not even glancing at Eddie a little bit as he speaks.

"...Oh, there's a story here!"

"No, there's not."

"The lady doth protest too much," Eddie sings, leaning close to Steve's face. Steve glances at him, though he looks back to the road quickly, shoving Eddie back toward his own seat without looking at him.

"Don't laugh."

"I won't, swear on my life," Eddie lies.

"Alright… so, you know Lucas."

"Yes."

Steve sighs. "Well, you've seen me fuck with Dustin's hair, right? I do it to Max and even Mike sometimes if he doesn't look like he'll bite me, and Lucas, he used to have, like, shorter hair, so you could kinda give him a noogie and it was, like, whatever, but now he's got the flat top and I didn't know if I could, like, touch it without messing it up, yknow? So I went to the library—"

Eddie bursts into laughter.

Steve slams his hands on the steering wheel. "I knew you were gonna laugh!"

"No," Eddie struggles to say between laughs, "No, oh my God, that's the cutest thing I've ever—"

"I fucking hate you," Steve sulks.

He can just see it, is the thing, Steve walking into the library and ringing the little bell and stumbling over his words as he asks the librarian for help finding books about hair. Squinting at the spines of books, checking out a few, carrying them back to his car and dumping them in the passenger seat with a satisfied grin.

"I had to help Dustin with his hair for the Snow Ball, too, and his is curly, so you know, I started with him back then, and then Lucas, and then I just kept reading, and it was…" Steve shrugs. "I don't know, it was cool."

Steve says it nonchalantly. As if that isn't the most precious thing on planet Earth.

"You're so cute," Eddie says, and Steve rolls his eyes, but there's something there, Eddie thinks, something soft and fond in the slight curve of his lips. There's something.

This isn't how Eddie had imagined getting Steve's hands on him, but he really can't be mad about it.

“Alright, alright,” Dustin chants, as Robin hoots and whistles her support.

Someone begins pounding on the table repeatedly.

“Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve!” Lucas begins the chant and Max joins in, followed shortly by Robin and Dustin. Mike looms over Eddie with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

“No pressure, Harrington,” Eddie says.

“Man, shut up,” Steve replies, and starts to push.

Astoundingly, Eddie rises.

“Oh, shit,” he says, tensing his body as much as he can. Steve would never drop him, but Eddie might not have the abdominal muscles required to keep himself from toppling off to the side.

The Steve chant gets louder and faster, more hands pounding on tables and feet stomping on the floor. Mike is clearly trying so hard to look unimpressed, but his eyes just keep getting wider as Eddie rises higher and finally reaches the peak, Steve's arms extended as much as they can without locking out, and he holds Eddie aloft for a few seconds, and Eddie wishes more than anything that he could see Steve's face right now. Steve begins to lower him down, and god, this was all over too fast, and Eddie's heart is pounding like crazy, so loud in his ears that it almost drowns out all of their friends' raucous screaming.

“What in the hell is all this racket?”

Eddie startles, almost falling, but Steve digs his fingers in, and holy shit Eddie's going up again, and then he's coming down, and how is Steve this strong?

“Two,” Dustin calls out, “Holy shit!”

As Eddie goes up again, Nancy explains, “Steve said he can bench, like, two hundred pounds or something, and Eddie said he bet Steve couldn't even lift him and he's about one-seventy—”

“One-sixty, Wheeler,” Eddie calls out, and then he's coming back down again and Steve says, “I don't know, feels more like one-eighty.”

“Oh, screw you.”

“Three!”

"...Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve..!"

“Huh.” Mike's dad almost sounds impressed. “Well, keep it down, your sister's trying to do her homework.”

Mike snorts. “Holly's homework is coloring.”

“Hey, don’t knock coloring,” Eddie says. It’s hard to sound normal, with Steve’s hands pressing into his back and thighs, but he’s pretty sure he’s managing it. “It’s a noble and honored tradition, Wheeler, one of humanity’s oldest pursuits. Art is—”

“Four!”

"...Steve, Steve..!"

“—what makes life worth living, after all.”

Steve grunts with effort, making Eddie’s chest seize up, but he rises for the fifth time. Someone says, “Jesus Christ,” but Eddie’s not sure who.

“Mike, maybe you could ask Steve here to take you to the gym sometime.”

“Dad,” Mike groans.

“And five!” Dustin begins to clap as soon as Eddie’s back down. The hooligans abandon pounding on the table to cheer, hooting and hollering with all of the enthusiasm of an adventuring party confronted with a chest full of riches.

“Alright, get off of me,” Steve grunts, and Eddie acquiesces, rolling to the side and leaping to his feet. God, he could scale a mountain right now. Eddie turns to look at Steve, and holy shit, actually, he could not scale a mountain right now, because his heart would explode. Lying on his back, face slightly flushed, arms splayed out and hair messy, Steve looks utterly obscene. To be fair, Steve always looks obscene, but Eddie can still feel the phantoms of Steve's hands pressing against him, and he holds a hand out without thinking. Steve takes it, leveraging himself up in a way that nearly has Eddie toppling down onto the floor next to him, but they manage to both stay standing.

"What do I owe you, again?"

"You guys forgot to actually bet anything," Dustin says helpfully.

"Shit," Steve sighs, letting go of Eddie's hand to put his hands on his hips.

"Maybe you could get me that hair crap you were talking about earlier."

"I win, and my reward is that I get to buy you things?"

"Yep," Eddie says. He can feel himself smiling, so wide that it's almost embarrassing, but he can't help it. Steve is smiling, too.

Steve eyes his hair, and apparently he's distressed enough by what he sees to sigh and say, "Shit, alright. But you have to use it exactly how I show you, asshole."

Eddie puts one hand on his heart and the other in the air. "Scout's honor."

#em talks #lesbianrobin.ficscraps #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #ignore me posting this at 2:45 am my time. i just had an itch okay

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mydearesthrry · 7 months

Text

hayday, braids, and chocolate - h.s.

a/n: self indulgent as fuck. wrote this a couple of hours ago…hope u enjoy as always 😘

wc: 1.1k (shes a shorty!)

cw: fluff. name calling i guess? in a joking and loving way <3, one suggestive sentence ig

summary: sundays with harry <3

A movie was playing softly in the background, Harry and Y/N talking about god knows what as he laid on his back, head resting on the armrest of the couch. Laying on her tummy against his chest, her chin was propped up on the back of her hands as her palms rested on his shirtless chest, neck craned to look at him as they spoke.

About anything, really.

“No, I honestly have t’say tha’ I disagree with you, lovie,” He looked to the ceiling in thought. “How could you possibly even bend that way? I know for a fact that y’aren’t flexible, there’s jus’ no way y’can prop up y’legs behind y’head.”

“Harry, do you actually think that all our millionaire friends stay at every house they own?”

“I actually haven’t thought about tha’, and I have a scary feelin’ that y’might be right. What d’they even put in these things? Like… what is a gusher?”

Or the occasional switch in position, Harry still on his back and Y/N now on hers with her back to his chest. Most likely for a phone break— or, more like Y/N getting stuck on TikTok and forcing Harry to watch with her.

“Jesus Christ, how much red 40 are in those fucking pickles?”

“Holy shit, tha’ dog is so fat.”

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing right now?”

“Yeah, lovie. Tha’s a guinea pig wearing a cowboy hat. With m’initials on it.”

Or… just them sitting in silence. For the most part.

“Harry…” YN sighed, clicking at her phone. Her legs were slung over Harry’s thighs, her back resting against the arm of the couch. They’d switched positions a couple of hours ago, now sitting in complete silence as they became iPad kids and tapped away on their respective devices.

“Yeah, m’love?” Harry said, setting his crops into the dirt before looking at her, his head turned and tilted slightly like a puppy.

“D’you have any corn or wheat?” She asked, needing to plant some on her HayDay farm. She knew he would know what she was talking about, seeing as HayDay had been their new obsession as of recent.

“Were you staring at my phone or summat?” He gasped with a bewildered look.

“...No?” She questioned. She laughed when he turned his phone screen to face her, HayDay opened on his phone as well. Turning his phone back to face him, a few beats passed with them sitting in silence, their noses both stuck in their phones.

“So… do you?”

“Yep, just put them on m’market.”

“And that, is why I love you.”

—

“Ow! Tha’ fuckin’ hurt, babe.” Harry groaned, pulling his girlfriend’s fingers from his hair.

“Oh suck it up, you big baby. You asked me to massage your scalp, you can’t get mad at me since I’m literally doing what you asked.” She grumbled, slapping Harry’s hand away and moving hers back up to his curls, twisting little strands around her pointer fingers.

“I-“ He started.

“Say something, brat. I dare you.” She said, grabbing his chin to tilt his head back.

“Nothing,” Harry muttered, moving his head back to its original position on her chest. “Thank you, baby.”

“Whatever. You’re still a brat,” She kissed his temple three times, craning her neck a bit more to kiss his lips with his assistance of craning his to meet her lips as well. “But, I love you.”

“I love you. Love of m’life, m’muse, m’soulmate,” He placed soft kisses on her lips with every other word, kissing her deeply with his last. They sat in silence for a little, soft breathing and the occasional beep from his phone sounding the room, until Harry broke the silence.

“Lovie?”

“Hm?”

“Can y’braid m’hair?”

“Are you gonna complain if I pull too hard?

“No, but I’ll probably get hard.”

A pause. “Y’know what? I’ll take it. Get me a hair tie then sit on the floor.”

—

“H, come here.” Y/N groaned.

“No.” Harry said, arms crossed as he turned his back to her.

“You’re such a fucking diva,” She said, kicking at the bottom of his back with a socked foot, trying to garner his attention. “Don’t know how I put up with you.”

“Oh, ‘M the diva? Y’just chewed m’out ‘cause I accidentally ate the last bit of your chocolate, even though y’told me last night that y’still had some left!” He whined, back still turned to his girlfriend.

“Oh my God. Are you serious? I said I had some in my desk at work, not at home, you fucking twat.” She said exasperatedly, still poking her toes into his back.

Reaching behind him, he grabbed her socked feet and held them tightly, making her whine and complain about the constriction. “Let my feet go!”

“No. Not until y’apologize.” He said matter of factly, turning the slightest bit so he could hold her feet in his lap, face not facing her, but instead watching the movie that was now on mute on the TV.

“Do I have to?” She asked, voice low.

“D’you want y’feet back?” He gave her the same tone of voice, not paying her any mind.

“Asshole,” she muttered under her breath, scooching forward as much as she could to rest her chin on his shoulder. “I’m sorry for getting mad at you for eating my chocolate.”

“Hmm, and?” He hummed, moving to rub small circles into the soles of the fuzzy fabric covered skin.

“And ‘M sorry that I wasn’t more specific. Forgive me? I love you.” She whispered, moving to rest the plush of her cheek onto his shirtless shoulder, her lips brushing against the skin when she spoke.

Sighing, he fully turned to her and raised an eyebrow, letting her feet go and placing a soft kiss onto her forehead. “Of course I forgive you, sweet girl. I’d forgive y’a million times over. I’ll buy y’new chocolate, baby. Jus’ love when y’get all soft w’me. S’ like, m’favorite thing ever. Besides you, I guess.”

He was cut off by a yelp when she used their closeness to her advantage and took a bite out of her shoulder.

“Y’fucking bitch.”

“Twat.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry <3 #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurb #harry edward styles #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles imagines #harry styles writing #harry styles x fem!reader

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apollosfavkiddo · 20 days

Text

just a little drunk - hoo boys

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

content: percy jackson, leo valdez, jason grace and frank zhang x drunk!reader, best friends to lovers

warnings: mortal!au, alcohol consumption, dirty jokes, weed consumption, probably cursing.

a/n: i just discovered that i have a massive problem with writing. i literally took half an hour (at least) to write EACH one of those. terrible. just terrible. but i swear im trying to write more, it’s just cause i don’t have much creativity to write 😭

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

now playing… party in the USA - miley cyrus

Percy Jackson

He was at the party. Of course he was at the party. Everyone says a party without Percy Jackson is not a party. But he was the DD of the night, so he was completely sober - which was a hard task for the party king.

That, until he saw you. On top of a table. Striping down- wait. Striping down?! Jesus Christ, he left you alone for five minutes- oh, you’re taking your shirt off.

Of course there’s a bunch of assholes standing there, telling you to keep going and screaming obscenities at you. But Percy didn’t have the time to be mad right now, he was too focused on you.

If he got there one second late, he and everyone else in that room would see the black lacy bra you was wearing, but thank goodness he got there before you did it.

“Alright, that’s enough for today, isn’t it, sweetheart?” He said, hugging you from behind and taking a very giggly you off the table. All the boys in the room started ‘booh’ing him, and he just flipped him the finger.

“Perce! I was having funnn!!” You complained, your words sloppy and smudgy as he basically dragged you back to his SUV. He just rolled his eyes and chuckled slightly.

“Y/n/n, you were about to strip in front of a lot of people. I’m sure you’d kill me tomorrow if i let that happen.” He said as he pushed you onto the car and pulled the seat down so you could lay against it.

“Hmm.. Yeah, i’d probably do that.” She said, the smile never leaving her face as she started mumbling random words.

He closed the door and walked towards the driver’s seat. He knew he couldn’t drive you back to his house now, since he had to wait for his friends, so he just turned the air conditioning on and pulled a blanket over you shoulders.

“Sleep for a little. I’ll take you to my home, hm? I’ll take care of you.” He said, taking the loose strands of hair off your face. You were just so pretty it was unbearable.

“Fine.. Thanks, Percy.” She said and drifted off to slumber.

After a few minutes of watching you sleep, he remembered that you’d hate to sleep with make up on, so he looked into the glove compartment and- aha! Of course you had left a few of your wet wipes there.

He started softly running the cloth against your face, cleaning it. When he was finally over, he kissed your nose slightly and smiled to himself, waiting for his friends so he could drive you home aswell.

Jason Grace

He was sleeping, as any normal person would at 2 am. But he was a light sleeper, and he woke up suddenly with his phone raining in his nightstand. He groaned and searched for both his glasses and the phone so he could see who was calling him so late in the night.

When he looked at the phone screen, he frowned in confusion. Why was Kayla calling him, out of nowhere? She usually didn’t call him, unless-

“Kayla?” He said as he picked up the phone, sitting in his bed and rubbing his eyes so he could try and forget the sleepiness that was threatening to win him over.

“Hey, Jason.. uh… i’m sorry for waking you up but, uh… i’m in a party with y/n-“ Y/n and parties? Never ever a good combination. “-And she doesn’t accept to go home unless it’s with you. She’s… drunk. Maybe high, too. Can you pick her up?”

Oh boy, he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to do that. “I’m on my way. Just… send me the address and i be there as soon as possible.”

“Fine- shut up, y/n! Stay here, no-“ And then the call was over.

My god, he thought, what’s she gotten herself into this time?

Kayla sent him the adress and he got into his car - a Lambo, gift from his absent father trying to make up for it - and got in the place the party was happening in less than ten minutes.

The first thing he noticed was the loud noise in the party. The second was you, laid down and making a snow angel in the grass. Funny sight.

“Y/n/n? My god, what in hell are you-“ He got cut off with you getting up and jumping on his arms, hugging him.

“Jase! I didn’t think you’d come!” You said, smiling brightly at your best friend. “Come on, let’s go to the party!”

You tried pulling his hand towards the house, but you weren’t already the strongest while sober, and drunk… e didn’t even flinch.

“No, honey, im taking you back to your house. You got enough drinking for today.” He said, pulling you by the waist towards him and placing you inside the car as you tried your hardest to get back to the party.

“As, come on! Buzzkill!” You whined, crossing your arms and pouting at him.

“Come on, i’ll buy you a slushee. What’d you think?” He asked. You immediately smiled. Drunk you was a very easily distracted person.

“Fine. But we’ll talk about that tomorrow.” He said, squeezing her shoulder softly as he drove towards the gas station.

“Whatever you say. Buzzkill.”

Leo Valdez

He was home watching a dumb tv show. He didn’t really bother with sleeping, since he knew his best friend was going to a party. And you plus party equals to a very drunk mess.

So when he finally got a call, he already knew it was you. It happens that he was right.

“Yes, cariño?” He asked, a smile plastered on his lips as soon as he heard your drunk giggles.

“Can you pick me up, fireboy?” You asked, your voice groggy and smudgy. But he knew it would probably be like that, so he was already expecting it.

“Course i can. Send me the address and i’m on my way.”

“Fine. Bye Valdeeezzzz..” You said before hanging up the phone with giggles and smiles.

He got where you were and you were being supported by one of your friends, who seemed pretty annoyed with the drunk version of you, all smiley and clingy to anyone around.

“Oh, thank god you’re here. I can’t stand her anymore.” Your friend said before basically dragging you towards the boy. “She’s all yours now.”

You were all smiles as you held Leo’s neck and pulled him close to you. “Leooooo! I missd’ ya!”

“Hey, cariño. You’re kinda drunk, aren’t you?” He asked before supporting your weight and taking you towards his car.

“What? Me? Nooo…” You said, giggling. You clearly smelled like pure alcohol.

“Sure you aren’t. Get in there, i’m taking you home.” He said, opening the passanger’s seat for you and placing you inside.

He put on your seat belt and kissed you forehead before walking towards the driver’s seat.

When he got inside the car, you were almost completely dozed off in sleep, trying your hardest to stay awake. He chuckled and turned the air conditioning on so you could rest more comfortably.

“Sleep, y/n/n. I’ll call you when we get home.” He said, the smile never leaving his lips.

Franz Zhang

He’s dead worried that you haven’t gotten home yet. Of course he didn’t knew where you were, cause you didn’t tell him.

Come on, you knew that, if you did tell him, he’d try to stop you.

So why bother?

You were having fun. A really, really good time. That was until your best friend came by with a weird cocktail, which was nothing more than a mix of different types of alcohol and syrup. Really fun.

And that’s when you got drunk and wobbly and you just had to call Frank. Common drunk mistake, isn’t it?

He picked up on the third ring.

“Y/n? My god, are you okay?” He asked, his voice laced with concern. He was so worried about you, cause you weren’t home and you didn’t pick up the phone and just called him out of the blue.

“Frankie!” You said and he could hear the smile in your voice. His concern only grew once he realized you were drunk.

“Y/n, where are you? I’m going to pick you up.” He said, already getting up with the car and house keys in his hand.

“I’m at Louis’ house! We’re having a birthday party!” You said, giggling and smiling brightly at absolutely nothing.

“Fine, i’ll… i’ll be there in ten. Just… don’t do anything stupid, and wait for me, outside the house. Don’t drink anything else and please, for the heavens sake, don’t do drugs.” He pleaded.

“I’m not- Frankie! I’m not on drugs. Please.” You said in a fake annoyed tone and giggled again. He rolled his eyes and sighed, driving towards where you were.

When he got there, he immediately saw you on the backyard, playing probably Pokémon Go and yelling when you finally found a pokémon. He smiled at the sight, and then remembered why he was there.

He walked towards you. When you finally saw him, you smiled widely and jumped in his direction, trying to hug his neck. Which wasn’t easy, as he was a little taller than you.

“Hey.” He said as he leaned down so you could hug him properly.

“Heyyy!!! I missed you!” You said, voice muffled by his shoulder. “Can you take me home? Please? I’m tired.” You said smiling cheekily.

“No.” He said, simply. “I’m taking you to my house today, kay? There’s some of your stuff there, and i can borrow you a shirt so you can sleep. But i’m not leaving you alone in this state.”

“Yay! Sleepover!” You cheered excitedly.

He couldn’t deny that the drunk version of you was very cute.

a/n pt2: did you see what i did there? i cut almost all of them in the middle. two reasons: one, for this not be too big and second i have inspiration to write more. lmk if u want a part 2 of those!!

#postcards from leah #jason grace #jason grace x reader #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #frank zhang #frank zhang x reader #pjo hoo toa #heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus x reader

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wynnyfryd · 1 year

Text

Eddie’s casually leaning against the rails on the edge of the dance floor, savoring his second whiskey on the rocks and scanning the crowd for fresh meat when suddenly there’s a face he’s never seen before taking up his entire field of view.

The guy sways drunkenly into his space, grabbing the lapels of his vest for balance, and before Eddie can even get the ‘what the fuck?’ out of his mouth, pretty brown eyes are blinking up at him and the guy is slurring, “Hey. Hey, um. You’re really cute, do you wanna kiss?”

And Eddie laughs softly, blinks back at him, lazy and syrupy and shrugs, “Yeah, okay, cutie.”

The kiss is like, surprisingly fucking excellent coming from a guy who seems two sips of beer away from stumbling headfirst into a toilet. Eddie sighs into his mouth as their tongues touch, and it’s messy and wet and he tastes like rum and coconut and maraschino cherries.

Drunken Cutie pulls back after a moment, licks his lips with his eyes still closed, a sated little smile lighting up his face. Then he pats Eddie’s chest and hums and says, “That was… mmmm, really great, thank you.”

And then he’s gone.

He’s just…

Like, okay. It’s not like Eddie expected the guy to come back up to him that night and ask him out or give him his number or anything (he’d pinched Eddie’s cheek like a doting grandmother after he finished shoving his tongue down Eddie’s throat, so. Ya know. Hardly seemed capable of conversation), but he does expect to at least see him again. Run into him in the crowd the next weekend or something.

And nothing.

Zip. Nada.

Eddie’s starting to wonder if the good whiskey he sprang for that night made him conjure some blond twink hallucination as a panacea for his pathetic gay dry spell. Whoever Blondie is, he’s a fucking ghost. A sexy, sexy ghost, and Jesus, how is Eddie down this bad for a boy who may or may not exist?

Three weeks later, Eddie spots that swoop of caramel candy hair and goes marching across the bar like he’s about to pick a fight, grabs the poor, startled guy by the wrist and drags him out to the smoker’s patio without so much as a hello, and yeah, he’s like, maybe being a bit of a psycho right now, but whatever. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about those gorgeous eyelashes or that stupid pink pretty mouth for almost a month now and he still doesn’t even know the guy’s name.

“Alright, what the fuck?” Eddie demands as he whirls around and frowns with his arms folded over his chest.

“Me ‘what the fuck?’ What the fuck yourself!” the guy shouts, hands gesturing all over the place before landing on his cocked hips in a sassy little mom pose that screams explain yourself.

“Do you seriously not remember making out with me last time you were here? And then, like, vanishing into thin air?”

And Blondie goes adorably red at that statement for a moment before he clears his throat and collects himself. “Gonna be honest with you, babe, I don’t even remember seeing you last time I was here. I was pretty wasted that night.”

He pauses, eyes raking down Eddie’s face, his chest, his thighs, all the way to his heavy black boots and back up. “Having said that…”

He licks his lips, catches the bottom one between his teeth as he grins. Leers. Looks like he wants to eat Eddie alive. “Hmm. Yeah, I’m— I’m not mad about it,” and he takes a step forward, getting into Eddie’s space, just like before only sober and sure-footed this time around, and he practically purrs when he sweeps a lock of Eddie’s hair behind his ear and asks, “Think I could get a do-over?”

Jesus Christ.

Eddie’s not that easy, is he? Is he?

He totally is.

#steddie #steddie drabble #steddie au #is it still a meetcute if you don’t remember meeting?#steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing #my fics #steddie fic

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seungkw1 · 6 months

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halloween night — ksy

⛧ pairing: kwon soonyoung x fem!reader ⛧ theme: strangers to lovers, nonidol!au ⛧ word count: ~2.5k ⛧ warnings: smut, swearing, praise kink, oral (m. & f. receiving), softdom!hoshi, petnames (f. receiving - baby, pretty girl, etc.), unprotected penetration (stay safe kids), tiny bit of fluff at the end

your halloween night is going pretty lousy — that is, until you meet a handsome, tiger-print-wearing stranger at a party

♡ moodboard by @myhimbomingi ♡

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“You look fine. Stop worrying, you’re gonna have a good time tonight!”

You stop fiddling with your skirt and look up at your best friend with a sigh. ”I can’t believe you talked me into wearing this stupid thing.”

Halloween is, in your humble opinion, the greatest holiday ever invented. You always love putting together your costume, something unique and creative each year – which is why you feel like a fucking idiot standing here dressed in a cliché sexy nurse costume. But, you needed to get your shitty ex off your mind – it had been two weeks since you found out he was cheating on you – and what better distraction than alcohol. Hell, you might even find someone to make out with if you drink enough. Not your usual M.O., but fuck it.

Now that you’re here though, you’re starting to have second thoughts. Your best friend Mina is bubbly and sociable, so she thrives naturally in a party environment – you, not so much. To make matters worse she’s the only person you’ll know here, so you’re now realizing how awkward this whole thing is going to be. Wishing now that you had worn something more comfortable, you slap on a fake smile as you step inside. Here goes nothing, I guess.

—

Mina spent about 15 minutes introducing you to everybody as you did your best to engage in polite small talk, but she eventually got absorbed in chatting with some old friends while you inadvertently joined a very boring conversation with some cryptocurrency bros where some guy named Chad or something was going on about bitcoin. You pretended to be interested in whatever Brad was saying, but you kept zoning out. Stifling a sigh, you went to make your escape.

“I’m gonna use the restroom, I'll be right…”

Nobody even looked at you. Brent had moved on talking about stocks or some shit. You rolled your eyes as you walked away. Assholes.

The other room was too crowded for your liking, and so was the kitchen. Spotting the back door, you quickly made your way outside before anyone else could talk to you.

—

The cool October breeze hits you as you practically burst through the door and out onto the patio. You know you’ll probably get chilled before too long, especially in this dumb miniskirt, but the crisp air feels delightful. The relative quietness is a relief too. Taking a few moments to breathe, you start to relax, but soon enough your mind drifts back to your ex against your will. It’s not like you miss him – you’re definitely over that jerk – but you’re still extremely pissed off about the whole thing. You feel tears starting to form as the anger wells up inside you – you hate that you cry when you get mad, which only makes you even more upset.

“God fucking dammit,” you mutter under your breath as you go to wipe your tears away before you start full-on crying. You know bottling up your emotions isn’t ideal, but neither is having a breakdown at some stranger’s house.

You can have your breakdown later, you tell yourself firmly. Just not right now. Don’t make a fool of yourself, just hold on out for a couple more hours and then-

“Are you okay?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the voice coming from behind you. Quickly turning around, you find yourself face-to-face with a ridiculously handsome stranger. The man is so striking it takes you a few seconds to process the horribly tacky, bright orange tiger-print shirt he’s wearing.

“Jesus Christ, you scared me,” you say as you collect yourself.

“I- sorry, I didn’t mean to…” he says, his sentence trailing off.

You both stand there for a moment in silence. You find yourself trying not to blush at how good-looking he is, but you notice him noticing your low-cut top but trying to act like he didn’t notice it. Yeah, that is not helping…

The man clears his throat. “You just seemed like you were crying or something and uh… sorry, I guess that’s not really any of my business…” he apologizes, turning red. “Sorry,” he repeats, “I’ll leave you be…”

“No no it’s okay!!” you blurt out, perhaps a bit too fast. “I mean, you can stay, I don't mind.”

“Are you sure? If you want to be alon-”

“No, I don’t,” you interrupt before he goes to turn away again. “I mean, I did originally, but uh…”

What are you doing?? You literally don’t even know this man.

You ignore the voice inside your head. Fuck it, didn’t I say I wanted to find a hot stranger to make out with tonight? Here’s one right in front of me.

You introduce yourself and stick out your hand. His face turns into a soft smile as he takes your hand in his – he shakes it firmly, and you try not to think about how strong he feels. He locks eyes with you and holds on to your hand for a few moments too long. Your heart seems to skip a beat.

“Soonyoung,” he replies. Letting out an even bigger grin, he finally lets go of your hand. “Nice to meet you.”

—

You don’t even know how long you two have been sitting on the patio couch talking. All you know is that not only is Soonyoung incredibly handsome, he’s also funny, charming, and easy to talk to – and, he’s clearly very attracted to you. Usually it takes a number of drinks before you get flirty, but the tension between you two is too strong to resist. It’s taking all of your willpower not to drop everything and kiss him – and the way he keeps stealing quick glances of your lips tells you the feeling is reciprocated.

Despite how flustered you are, it is pretty chilly out, and eventually you start to shiver. Soonyoung notices and gives you a concerned look.

“Oh shit, we should probably get you inside.”

You glance back toward the chatter of the house party regretfully, not wanting to go back in and be amongst everybody else once again. But you are getting cold.

You look back to Soonyoung and you both sit there in silence for a few seconds. A sly smile creeps back onto his face, and he hesitates for a moment before suggesting, “Or… we could get out of here.”

You can’t help but grin back at him.

—

And so you find yourself on Soonyoung’s couch, straddling his lap, making out with him – the cheesy horror movie you had put on in the background long forgotten. Time seems to be at a standstill as you press your lips into his – softly at first, but more intensely with each kiss. His muscular arms tighten around your waist, pulling your body even closer to his, and a small moan escapes you as he pushes his hips into your core.

Soonyoung stops kissing you momentarily so he can look at you. “You’re so fucking pretty, you know that?”

His low and raspy voice sends a jolt through your stomach. Your skirt has risen up over your hips, leaving your underwear as the only barrier between your pussy and the growing bulge in his jeans – you push yourself into him even further and this time he lets out a moan as you feel his cock twitch against your aching cunt.

Grabbing onto your waist he pushes you over onto the couch and rolls over on top of you. He kisses you again, his hand cradling your face, his body weight pressing down on you as you feel the blood rushing through your veins. He kisses you for a few moments more before he jumps up, pulling you along as he leads you into his bedroom.

He stops right before the bed and pauses to look at you, his hand delicately tracing your neckline. “You know, I really like this costume, but I think I’d like it more off of you.”

You let out a laugh as you roll your eyes at him. You begin to unbutton his shirt as you reply, “Well I don’t really like it at all, so you can definitely help me get rid of it.”

He grins back at you. “You look incredible, but I will happily oblige.”

Grabbing the hem of your top, Soonyoung pulls it up over your head and tosses it behind him. He pulls his shirt off too, disregarding the rest of the buttons, and you have to keep your jaw from hitting the floor – to say he was toned would’ve been an understatement.

He grabs you by the arms to pull you in for another kiss, and you place your hands on his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin. You slowly run one hand down the defined curvatures of his abs until you reach the waist of his pants. Your lips still pressed against his, you begin to undo his belt and unbutton his pants.

Getting down as you undo the zipper, you pull down the band of his underwear and his cock springs free. You run your tongue up his length, your mouth stopping to take just the tip in between your lips as you taste his juices before taking him in your mouth. Soonyoung lets out a groan, and you begin to slide his cock down your throat – slowly at first, but as you begin to pick up the pace he places his hand on the back of your head, making sure you take his entire length with each motion.

“Look at me,” he commands.

You look up at him, his cock halfway in your mouth still, your lips red and your eyes teary from choking on him.

“That’s my pretty girl,” he murmurs, his voice gruff and low.

He thrusts into your mouth a few more times before he pulls your head back up, his cock glistening with your spit.

“Stand up for me.”

You quickly stand up – it’s impossible to ignore how wet you are at this point.

Soonyoung takes you by the hips and gently pushes you down onto the bed. “Get comfy baby.”

You rest your head against the pillows as he situates himself between your legs. He lifts your skirt up just enough to reveal your visibly soaked underwear.

“Fuck, you’re already this wet for me huh?” he says he starts kissing your inner thighs, close enough to your entrance to make your clit throb but just far away enough to drive you crazy.

He teases you with one finger tracing over your clothed cunt, sending a shiver down your spine. Not giving what you want just yet, he reaches his hand behind your back and unclasps your bra, taking it off of you.

“God, you’re so hot,” he says as he begins to kiss your breasts. You let out a small whimper as his hand makes its way back down to your clit, his thumb circling over the fabric gently.

Finally, he reaches his hands under your skirt and slides your panties off, his face resuming its position right in front of your cunt. You let out a hiss as his tongue makes a stripe over your folds, slowly taking in your wetness – you cry out suddenly as he begins to suck on your clit.

Soonyoung goes down on you for what feels like an eternity, only stopping here and there to shower you in admiration.

“You taste so good, baby.”

“Fuck, you’re so hot.”

“Pussy so pretty for me.”

Just as you feel the heat welling up inside your body, he slides his fingers inside of you. The vibrations of his mouth moaning on your clit combined with the pressure against your g-spot nearly sends you over the edge.

“Fuck, Soonyoung – I’m gonna cum…” you cry.

“Cum for me, baby.”

Your orgasm rushes over you as you grab him by the hair, cumming hard on his mouth. Out of breath and seeing stars, you start to come down and your body relaxes into the bed – you run your hand through his hair as he delicately kisses your soaked pussy, his mouth and chin covered in your juices.

Soonyoung comes up to give you a few soft kisses on the lips. Wrapping your arms around his back, you pull his warm body into yours. His erection presses up against your still-throbbing core – you try to position your entrance right on top of his cock but he teasingly pulls away and starts kissing your neck instead.

“Please Soonyoung,” you beg.

“Please what baby? I wanna hear you say it.”

“Want you to fuck me.”

He kisses you on the neck once more before slipping his cock inside you, making you gasp at the sudden sensation.

“Mmm I made you so wet baby, you’re so perfect for me.”

He slowly starts sliding his length in and out of you, but before long you find yourself trying to ride his cock, trying to make him go faster – which only makes him slow down even more. He smirks, locking eyes with you – undeniably addicted to how much you need him.

“Such a little slut, you want me to fuck you harder?”

You nod, looking up at him – desperation in your eyes.

“Use your words baby.”

“Harder,” you plead.

“That’s my good girl.”

Soonyoung thrusts into you, picking up the pace this time, until he’s fucking you senseless. Your cries fill the room from the overwhelming pleasure, and much to his enjoyment you start to whimper out his name.

“That’s right – say my name babygirl.”

You repeat his name as every inch of him continues to pulse into you, stronger with each stroke.

“You’re taking me so well. My cock so good to you baby?”

You cry out something, presumably some form of yes, but you don’t even know at this point. You feel yourself start to climax once more.

“Fuck, Soonyoung – I’m gonna cum again.”

“Cum with me, pretty girl.”

Electricity rushes over your entire body as your walls tighten around him, and you feel his cock pulsating as his cum fills you up inside. You both lay there for a few moments, his strong arms wrapping around you as you breathe heavily together. He slowly removes himself from you and rolls over to pull you into an embrace – him as the big spoon. You giggle as he holds you tightly and gives you little kisses on your cheek.

“You know,” you admit, “I didn’t even want to go to that stupid party.”

Soonyoung laughs. “Well, I’m sure glad you did.”

“I am too,” you say as you begin to yawn. You are completely worn out in the best way possible.

He nuzzles into your neck, clearly also getting sleepy. He pauses a moment before he asks.

“Stay here with me?”

You can’t help but smile. “Okay,” you reply softly.

You drift off to sleep in Soonyoung’s arms – blissful and content.

[end]

you can also find me on ao3 ♡

#kwon soonyoung x reader #hoshi x reader #kwon soonyoung smut #hoshi imagines #hoshi oneshot #hoshi fic #hoshi smut #svt x reader #svt smut #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #ren's fics ੈ♡₊˚•.

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