#and just for the marble puzzle

[dog-ending]

(riven spoiler)

between atrus and gehn you can tell atrus is the better dad because he killed 2 sons while gehn couldnt even kill one

[hplonesomeart]

Guys call me crazy but I think the crazy robots would get along swimmingly. The tragic fact that these two don’t have more art interacting is an offense in my rule book and I have come to remedy that. They say you must manifest what you want to see in the world and this is me doing that jskjsksp. I will take initiative! Enjoy a smidgen of Mr. Puzzles and Mettaton art then. Although I think the only reason they initially decided to co-host collaborate together here was the prospect of getting more stars/ratings- because that’s show business babyyyy leverage off of famous people for viewssss/j

Also here is version without the speech/dialogue bubbles! Just two gay bots being fabulous and gossiping or something (platonically. Or you could lean into this being a ship I don’t really care lol). Maybe they’ll exchange some advice about the logistics of incorporating musical numbers in the boardcasts without losing too much revenue on the budget idk. Because if you think about it Mettaton did a musical number in a dress with Frisk and then Mr. Puzzles had his whole Creative Control moment. And both where marvelous performances by the way absolutely slay ✨

My “toxic trait” is supporting the theatrical livelihoods of fictional computers who have committed atrocities, and they both will probably never make an apology video for the attempted murders and trauma inflicting. Wow so girlboss of them :))

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

So Howdy is basically that one annoying ass kid in high school who’d call everyone around him ‘queer’ as an insult when it’s pretty obvious that he was gay himself and self projecting? Lmaooo i love it and it really does explain a lot!

Ngl though and I’m not trying to bash on laughingstock but i think it’s EDDIE that Howdy might be crushing on since in the banner on the previous update, Howdy’s icon is looking at Eddie’s.

I think he treats him hostilely is because he has feelings for him and he doesn’t know how to process them and so it comes out as anger and passive aggressive resentment.

Ofc I don’t think he’d be the best partner for Eddie due to this… I do think though that when it’s revealed that Eddie and Frank are madly in love that it’s going to cause Howdy to feel more anger and maybe even hatred towards the two.

ehhhh.... not buying it, sorry!

i'd be willing to hear this theory out if there was any evidence other than "Howdy is looking at him in the banner" (and Home is looking at Howdy, and Barn is looking at Wally, and Wally is looking at Us, and Julie is looking at Frank - it doesn't necessarily connotate romance) and the idea of Howdy's treatment of Eddie being a "get out of my school" type of thing.

but if that were the case, wouldn't we have seen more evidence by now? like... Any?? Howdy and Eddie have had minimal interaction, and in each one Howdy was fully disinterested and dismissive of Eddie. there is literally nothing in his behavior or dialogue that implies romantic feelings, repressed or otherwise. you'd think that Howdy would at least get a little flustered or defensive, but he doesn't! all he expresses is disinterest and slight annoyance.

and this just... doesn't feel like a story where a major plot point is "character A is jealous of the established relationship because A is in love with one of them". it's a bit... how do i say? Tacky, perhaps? a touch basic? a teeny bit uninspired...

and character-wise, Howdy having feelings for Eddie doesn't make much sense (the thought that Howdy's treatment of him stems from romantic feelings Definitely doesn't). it doesn't really fit him and what we know about him? there's a reason Howdy views Eddie as a rival, i think.

[aroaceleovaldez]

the secret thing they don’t tell you about making roughly ~200 roman demigod characters is that it’s all well and good until you have to come up with 200 names.

[earth-b0y]

*M!A: Bummy, you dummy, your worms are now all gunmie!*

...

[Min and Rai stare aghast at the worms on Rai's desk, now gummy candy]

That was evil =/

[lavendorii]

how are u gonna play totk and complain about some bosses being gimmicky like. hi this is tloz where the bosses have always been gimmicky

[chartreuxcatz]

Hmm. I dont remember the other TBD updates being so… fast paced and difficult to follow…?

[mariasont]

Okay , so a smutty Spencer x reader fic where is very alternative with tattoos and piercings. Maybe she works with the team as an entomologist or something idk BUT she always wears her contacts and one day she comes in thick black frame glasses. Spencer goes feral, he's never seen her in glasses before and he just kinda drags her into a hall closet and just "keep the glasses on" there's a lot of fanfics about the reader going feral seeing Spencer in glasses for the first time but what if it was reversed.

Framed Fascination

A/N: omggggg i loved writing this, you just know spencer would sooo be a sucker for a woman with tats and piercings, so canon

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REQUESTING xoxo

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x alt!fem!reader

warnings: 18+ minors dni, glasses kink, praise, p in v, dirty talk, degrading sort of, office sex

wc: 2k

When you began dating Spencer, it raised a few eyebrows. Spencer Reid--reserved, a bit awkward, and endlessly knowledgeable--had ended up with someone who they thought was his complete opposite. And to that he would always say, "while the prevailing research suggests similarity is more common in relationships, there's an interesting phenomenon where sometimes, the very things that differ between two people can create a complementary dynamic, much like how two puzzle pieces with different notches fit."

At times, you would point out your differences solely to prompt this response. But, in truth, aside from your outward styles, you shared more similarities than not. Your tattoos and piercings were the first details Spencer noticed and quickly became his favorite as you strode into the morgue on a particularly demanding case. You were immersed in explaining how arsenic disrupted the body's functions, but Spencer was lost in the visual narrative of your ink, his gaze lingering on every etched symbol and shaded figure. From that moment, he was wholly engrossed, and vowed to eventually explore all the unseen tattoos that your clothes kept from view.

Spencer may have had the whole 'nerdy boy-next-door' aesthetic down to a science, but you? You took pride in being called 'intimidating', knowing it was just a first impression. You knew that beneath that surface lay as Spencer would say, 'a cinnamon roll'. Spencer seemed to see through it from the beginning, which is why he didn't hesitate to ask you out as soon as the case closed.

In the span of eight months, your life had been transformed into its healthiest chapter with Spencer as the culprit. He filled every day with thoughtful gesture--surprise art museum dates, breakfast in bed, flowers that would mysteriously find their way to your desk, notes you'd find tucked inside your coat pockets. In fact, if you had seen it in a cheesy rom-com, he probably had done it. You had been tackling each day with a little spring in your step.

Just like today--you bounded into your office humming—you were humming as you went over paperwork. Tasked with consulting for the consumer safety department, your focus was zeroed in on the pervasive issue of phthalates creeping into beauty products. You adjusted the unfamiliar weight of the thick black frames perched on your nose--an odd sensation since you habitually opted for contacts--as your eyes dragged over the papers.

The hum of the fax machine broke the silence, and you swiveled in your chair, a smile dawning as you recognized the documents from last week's BAU case--giving you a chance to steal a moment with your boyfriend.

Paperwork in hand, you made your way to the BAU office, the click of your heels on marble floors keeping time with your quickening pulse. The bullpen was a whirlwind of activity as you greeted Morgan and Prentiss with a nod and smile, your gaze sweeping through the room until it landed on him. 

"Hi there, handsome," you greeted with a playful lilt in your voice, your fingers rapping gently against the wood of his desk.

"Hi, sweetheart--," he began, but his words trailed off as his eyes met yours. There was a pause, a momentary lapse in his ever-flowing stream of thoughts, as he took in the sight of you.

Glasses? He couldn't recall you ever wearing glasses, yet there they were, and the effect was undeniable. The sight sent a wave of unexpected thrill through him--a visceral reaction that left him speechless, his lips parting in awe. 

Spencer's throat cleared, a subtle sound amid the bullpen's activity. His gaze flickered around the room, a silent plea that his colleagues were too engrossed in their work to notice the way he practically undressed you with his eyes. "Since when do you wear glasses?"

"Since I nearly scratched my eye out trying to get my contacts in this morning," you said with a laugh, though the action of straightening your glasses was more of a nervous tic.

His stare was unyielding--intense and almost piercing. It unsettled you slightly as you studied his expression, your head tilting inquisitively as he said nothing else. 

"Well, uh, anyway I have to drop this off to Hotch," you murmured, your voice trailing off as you felt the weight of Spencer's penetrating gaze. 

You lingered for a heartbeat too long, hoping for a word, a smile--anything. But nothing came. With a shaky breath, you turned away, hands trembling ever so slightly as you handed the paperwork to Hotch. You whisked yourself back to the comfort of your office. The was weird, right? I mean, sure, Spencer had never been one for being overly affectionate in public, but he at least had more to say than that.

You pushed the nagging doubts to the back of your mind, focusing on the monotony data and figures that sprawled across your reports. He was probably just having a bad day, too maybe theoretical thoughts brewing in the beautiful mind of his.

The hours crawled by, each minute punctuated by the drone of the office--uninteresting reports, pesky coworkers, and the persistent buzz of thoughts circling back to Spencer. When it was an appropriate time to take your lunch, you pushed your laptop aside with a little too much eagerness, hands diving into your bag for your food. 

But before you could do that, a soft interruption at the door caught your attention. Your head snapped up, meeting Spencer's gaze as he leaned causally against the frame of the door.

He stood there, watching as you glanced up at him, the rims of your glasses framing your eyes in a way that made an involuntary shiver down his spine, his gaze lingering on your face. You appeared tired, yes, but the image of you like this had been imprinted on his mind all day, rendering his work secondary to the thought of seeing you again. 

"Spence, hi," you greeted, a sweet smile blooming on your lips as you peered up at him. Your brows knit together slightly; his visits were rare unless case-related. "I was just about to take my lunch, wanna join?"

"No," he replied with a swift shake of his head, the corners of his mouth twitching into a knowing smirk. "Could I borrow you for a second?"

Your gaze returned to the lunch that lay before you, untouched and suddenly unappealing. Letting out a small sigh, you nodded. "Sure," you replied, still trying to piece together Spencer's odd behavior today.

He tilted his head back subtly, a silent cue for you to follow him. You obliged without hesitation, following after him, your steps echoing his through the hallway. Your confusion mounted, etched into the deepening furrow of your brows with each corner turned. 

"Spencer," you said, a giggle escaping your lips. "I trust you're not taking me down some ominous hallway to meet my untimely end?"

"Actually, it is an interesting fact that the majority people meet their 'untimely end' at the hands of someone they love." 

"Great, thank you for that, I think that's my cue," you joked, pivoting away in an attempt to make a dramatic exit. But Spencer's reflexes were quick, his grasp secure on your wrist as he steered you into the nearest supply closet. The small space muffled your surprised oomph as you nearly collided with a stack of supplies.

You stumbled into the warmth of his chest, your glasses skewing comically as you steadied them with a fingertip. "Spencer! What has gotten into you?"

"You," came his growl, rough and urgent, while his hands frantically sought your legs, pinning you against the wall.

A soft moan slipped through the surprise of parted lips as his lips found yours. Your fingers tangled in the soft locks of his hair, pulling him closer, your mouth meeting his with the same intensity. 

Your laughter mingles with the kiss as you pull back, lips brushing. "Not that I'm complaining, Agent Reid, but someone is definitely going to catch us."

His eyes meet yours, equally amused as he pins your hands over your head. He makes quick work of open-mouthed kisses on your neck, your body instantly melting into his as his teeth scrape along your sweet spot. "Don't care."

His lips trailed back to yours, his fingers fumbling to push your skirt up to your stomach. You let out a surprised gasp into his mouth, finding the sudden intensity of him incredibly hot. He pressed his thumb into your clit as you dug your fingers into the nape of his neck, your head lolling back as you all but thrusted into his hand. The room swirled with heat, your glasses misting up. You reached for the pesky frames, but his fingers intercepted, pining them against your chest.

"Those stay on, sweetheart." The words tickled your ear, intimate and close, as his fingers traced through your slick folds, coaxing a contented pant from you.

"That's what's got you all worked up, Spence?" You moaned out as his fingers glided over your skin, now slick, drawing a line of warmth up your body. 

He settled his thumb on your tongue, shutting you up as he grabbed a handful of your ass. You wrapped your lips around it, savoring the taste as your eyes locked with his over the foggy veil of your glasses. His gaze held a quiet pride as he smirked. 

"Drove me crazy seeing you like that this morning." He said as he ground his body into yours, his erection settling on your stomach. "Makes you look so fuckable. Couldn't focus on anything else."

Your mouth vibrated softly around his thumb, muffled as he drew it away with pop. He makes quick work of undoing his belt, shoving down his pants and boxers just enough to release his length.

Your mouth watered at the sight, your body instinctively lowering to your knees, but his hand was there stopping you with a firm, "No time."

He pinned your shoulders to the wall with his body, his mouth crashing with yours with desperate need. Your mouth fell open into his as you felt his length press into your opening, his fingers holding your panties aside.

"You feel so good, sweetheart."

You don't think you would ever get over the feeling of him inside you, the way he stretched you out just right. You let out an unrestrained moan as he proceeded to pump inside you, his movements ruthless.

His palm sealed over your lips, a sudden barrier that sent warmth spreading across your face, glasses clouding rapidly, obscuring your view. "Quiet, baby. You want everyone to know how much of a slut you are for me? Letting me fuck you in the office?"

You all but sobbed against his palm, your hands fisting the material of his sweater as he continued to abuse your pussy with deep strokes.

"Sp-Spence, please baby," you managed to breathe out as he released his hold on your mouth, grinding against him in an attempt at friction with your sensitive clit.

"What do you need, sweetheart?" He questioned, almost condescendingly as his fingers traced your cheek gently, a stark contrast to the way he pounded into you. "Need me to take care of you?"

"Please," you choked out.

"You're so good for me, baby." He said, his thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier as he pressed his thumb to the part of you that ached most. You let out a sob of relief as you ground against his movements, the familiar coil in your stomach beginning to wind up as you clutched at Spencer's face.

"Spencer, shit, 'm so close," you babbled, tears welling in your eyes as each of his thrusts seemed to urge the ache.

"Go ahead, baby." He moaned as his you felt his thighs twitch against you. "Come on my cock, sweet girl."

His words were all you needed to push you off the edge, your back arching against the wall as your legs shook, threatening to collapse as a wave of pleasure washed over you. He came shortly after you, his form yielding to gravity as his head nestled into the crook of your shoulder, both of you panting softly as you tried to catch your breath.

After savoring a few heartbeats of content, he gently disentangled himself from you. His fingers deftly rearranging your skirt, with a touch so soft, so different from his demeanor two minutes ago. 

"Guess I need to wear the glasses more often, huh?"

A soft laughter bubbled up from him, his fingers lightly grazing under your eyes, brushing away the stray smudges of makeup. "Please do."

[iris-qt]

𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚕 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞

🪻 ᴛʜᴇᴏᴅᴏʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴛ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

🪻 ʙɢ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ: ᴄʟɪᴄᴋ!

🪻 ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ

🪻 ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴏᴜ��…ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴜʏꜱ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪᴛ!

🪻 ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ᴛʜᴇᴏᴅᴏʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴛ ɪꜱ ᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ Qᴜɪᴛᴇ ꜱᴛᴏɪᴄ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀʟᴍ…ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪꜱ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴇꜰꜰᴇᴄᴛ ᴏɴ ʜɪᴍ ᴛᴜʀɴɪɴɢ ʜɪᴍ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴀ ꜱʜʏ, ʙᴜᴍʙʟɪɴɢ ʙᴏʏ

Perhaps it was your awkward glances. Or maybe the way you’d do something silly like accidentally write the wrong year for today’s date then nervously survey the area as if anyone would notice. If anyone were to notice they’d have to be looking very closely…practically observing you. And that is precisely the gift Theodore Nott had been given as he was sat one bench above you in the DADA classroom his gaze directly hitting your paper and the side of your stressed and contorted face.

Yes this test was difficult but Theodore has studied incessantly for it. You see, Theodore Nott never studies but he had a plan. A plan that he chickened out on last minute.

The night prior he had been sitting in the library waiting for your arrival. He knows you arrive around 8pm right after dinner and quidditch practice. You were about to sit when Theodore Nott appeared in your peripheral with a slight deranged half smile on his face. His face rarely showed emotion but there was something manic in it at the moment per your mental Theo facial expression log.

“Hi Theo, you okay?” you lightly laugh as you see him stumble a bit.

Theodore mentally thanked himself for evading his friends’ questions as to where he heads off to around this time because if they saw the usually stoic Nott stumbling over his feet in front of this girl he’d never hear the end of it.

“Yes…yes I was just wondering if you needed some studying company?”

You smile warmly at him his presence itself warming you up from the cold you had just endure in the November night air while at Quidditch practice.

“I’ll definitely need someone to wake me up in case I fall asleep reading about the theoretical applications of non-verbal spell casting…you’re hired Nott.”

Theo smirks as he sits himself down a bit too close to you. He realizes in a panic and jerks back almost tilting over in his haste if you hadn’t steadied his chair.

“Theo, maybe you should cut down on those cigarettes,” you smirk as a light rouge paints his carved face.

Theo feels like digging a hole in the library ground and burying himself in it away from your hypnotic gaze but, at the same time, he cannot help but bask in it.

Initially his plan was working as he hoped it would. You admitted the things you didn’t know and Theo helped you brush up on it and quizzed you on certain terms. You both had even found some time to laugh and joke about things such as the drawer filled collection of ballerina hair gel Theo had found Draco hoarding in the “forbidden drawer”. They were both becoming comfortable and Theo lost his edge as he melted into your presence. Things went downhill after that as perhaps Theo became a bit too comfortable. As he was watching you read a portion of your textbook…your lips moving in slow motion and your eyebrows scrunched in the most adorable manner…he couldn’t help but mutter under his breath out:

“You’re so cute..”

You perked up as you couldn’t believe your ears. While your brain was immersed in the world of DADA your senses were in high alert within the presence of the boy you adored in silence.

“What did you just say?”

Theo at this point went into full lockdown mode as he slightly jumped exclaiming “I said you look like a boot!!” he blurted out as if that would salvage him in her eyes…her gorgeous, bright eyes.

You looked quite puzzled as you didn’t know exactly what that meant. Perhaps it was the way you had styled your hair? Or done your makeup? His sentence made zero sense and you weren’t quite sure how to feel.

Theo, however, had lost his marbles while he seemed expressionless on the outside his brain was short-circuiting.

“Uh…you know what I think I need to leave to um…use the loo? Yes I wonder what they put in that pumpkin juice because let me just tell you, y/n, it was NOT good…you think the elves are after me?,” he laughs nervously as he quickly slams his book shut attracting the attention of every student in the library as the sound echoes off the shelves.

“Merlin, where’d I get that strength!” he strains out with that same deranged, manic look returning to his face except this time in more volume. Before you could utter a word Theo scrambles out of the library. It takes you a few seconds to piece together what just happened but you eventually stand up leaving your things behind to find Theo. But once you reach the entrance of the library he was long gone…

You had spent a while pondering that occurrence and what he said to you. That night you had laid awake in bed. You were sure he had said you were cute, right? I mean obviously. Theodore had always been jumpy since you had officially met him that one day in 5th year in Potions as you two were partners. He was quiet yet endearing and you had fallen instantly. The only problem was your adoration for him had always felt like a dead end. As shy as he seemed Theo got around and to be fair you’d never felt like you had a chance…were you blind? No of course not. You were realistic…right?

And so we return to the day of the test and Theo who had finished 20 minutes early due to his vast knowledge he has filled his privileged brain with simply for, well, you. You were his everything. You had stolen the very air he breathed from the moment you slid in next to him in Potions. You held his breath captive and he simply couldn’t act human next to you. You loosened him up more than any of his expensive Italian cigarettes could. He was addicted.

After class Theo had begun his walk to his next class when he heard his favorite voice calling his name. God if he could only record your voice in one of those muggle devices. Mental note to buy one of those next time he secretly visited muggle London. He slowly spun around gripping his messenger bag for dear life for he could feel himself becoming light headed already.

“I think I had an aneurysm taking that test,” you laugh indulging in Theo’s dazed expression as it fuels your confidence. “I just wanted to tell you that you look cute..” you purposefully mumble the last part so that Theo could barely catch your words.

Theo’s heart soared and dropped and did somersaults all at the same time when he heard your words. “Wh-what?”

“I said you look like a grapefruit!” you yell falling into a fit of laughter as Theo gazes at you looking dumbstruck.

“I think this is the part I run away,” you quip raising your eyebrow at him playfully

“No I think this is the part I shake myself out of it and just ask the girl of my dreams on a date,” Theo breathes out attempting to recover from his actions the day before

You put your hand above your eyes as if shielding them from the sun as you stare into the distance. “Where is she? Can I meet her?” you bite back your laughter, gazing up at Theo’s watercolor eyes alive with the most tender of emotions.

Theo laughs shaking his head hesitantly removing your hand from your face and clasping it in his as if it were a rare jewel he has been searching for for decades and had finally found it. As if you were his life’s work finally accomplished.

“Look no further, y/n, she’s standing right here.”

[wroteclassicaly]

For The Record

(Steve Harrington x Female Reader)

Summary: You have a surprise for your best-friend Steve.

Word count: 1,647

Warnings: Language, NSFW, creampie, vaginal sex, slight choking, slight breeding kink if you squint, and fluff.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Female Reader

A/N: Just a filthy little thing that I’ve been nurturing for a few days. No point to it, just showing Stevie some love! Haven’t written anything this lengthy in a while, but I hope y’all enjoy? ;P 💕❤️🥰♥️

Steve. Steve-fucking-Harrington. The heart of your group with a head of hair (that you’d washed, brushed, picked monster guts out of, and pulled, one too many times), a comforting smile that reminded you of Summer’s fading sunsets that give way to fall colors. All copper, rust, orange, mossy caramels swirling together, deep browns that look like cinnamon (smells like the gum he chews, or the breath spray he carries in his back pocket), sometimes even red in how his cheeks tinge on cold days, the way he makes your body warm. To his protective - fighter mode, like a crafted out of the finest marble guardian-angelic-god.

You’d worship at his temple. All day. Every single day.

His mouth has been in as many places as his hands. He knows every scar, just as much as he’s aware of spots, in which kissing you will cause goosebumps to electrify, sparking themselves known across your skin, or where his fingers will cause that high pitched whine to come from between your lips. You can’t really fathom that it’s been happening, especially for how long. There’s been no talk of labels, what anything means, it’s just been two friends crossing a line and fucking one another on it. You don’t know what you would’ve done, had it not been for Steve-the-hair-Harrington, King Steve, your extra heartbeat, your best-friend, your everything.

And that’s what led you to your current predicament, your planned leap of faith. Wrapped in a maroon colored mini gift bag, you had placed the packet. Steve arrived not long after, movies and pizza balanced in his massive hands, keys dangling from the middle finger of his left hand, a cheesy grin pressing into that beautiful mouth. “Hey, honey,” he had said. “Really missed you today, you know that?”

You’d taken in his appearance of dark Levi’s and a black belt, his signature Nike’s, and a low dipped white v-neck that he’d thrown a plain blue button over, leaving it open, his gold chain visible, nestled in that patch of chest hair. Salivating more at him than the food, it took you a second to help him inside.

You ate in avid chatter, watched one of the lamest, but most comforting horror films Steve could find on the shelves (that no one rented but he knew you’d appreciate), whilst being tucked beneath his bicep, warmed at his side. That’s when you’d retrieved the gift off your coffee table, his palm rubbing circles across your spine, kneading tension until you returned to your position. You handed him the bag and his bushy brows had pinched together, an adorable confusion clear. “For me? What did I do?”

“Just open it, Harrington. Before my nerves make me take it back.”

He cradled the parcel protectively, a pout forming as his watch strapped wrist dips inside. “No way, no how. Nope, not now.”

“Steve…” you laughed lightly, suddenly swallowing as he pulled the packet out, trying to make sense of the name.

“Contraceptive? I don’t… Isn’t this birth control?” He shook the packet before planting it in his massive palm.

You could feel your heartbeat in your throat, choking you like a vice, preventing you from answering in a full sentence.

“Yeah.”

“So, it’s yours? Why did you wrap it up and give it to me?”

“There’s a few missing already, Steve. I just wanted to get used to them before… Before I told you.”

“Told me, what?” He still looked puzzled, seeking out where you’d opened the package and taken a few tablets.

“That I just wanna use these from now on. Nothing else. If you, if that’s okay with you...?” You had felt the sharp claws of the butterflies, threatening to demolish your remaining courage. But this was Steve, you needed to remember that.

It took him a few moments, but then his pupils expanded within the enriching mossy flecks of his irises, at a rapid pace. His tongue licked at the five o’clock shadow above his upper lip. His voice, you’ll never forget how it sounded. Honey-hot and hoarse, raspy with bitten want, raw fucking desire. You’d clenched your thighs together, tongue eager to lick him… every-fucking-where — the burn of it felt on the muscle’s tip.

“Isn’t that something you do with a boyfriend, though? Not casual sex with a good friend, one of your best-friends?”

And you nod, vision swimming with shapes. Had you messed up? Fuck it. “It is.” Is what you’d responded with, taking the packet from him and tossing it with the bag back onto the table. The movie was rolling credits in the background and you were watching Steve’s dotted jugular as he swallowed, showcasing those tendons, all the way up to that stubble bitten jawline, dotted with freckles and moles.

“And who is your boyfriend, honey?” He had to hear you say it. If it’s what he thought it was, or you’d simply break his heart and move on to this guy. Could he really believe in a good thing again?

You leapt off that faithful precipice, years and feelings following, eyes locking, gaze unrelenting. “I was hoping it would be you.”

He was obviously choked up, orbs alight with mirth and excitement, among other things. “Funny that you mention that, because I’ve been hoping for the exact same thing.”And he’d fallen into your arms, seizing you with a kiss, noses nudging, tongues eager and messy. Clothes couldn’t come off fast enough.

The king sized condom lays unopened on your plush blush rug. Having fallen out of Steve’s wallet, that had also tumbled from his jean pocket in haste. Everything was out of control in the best possible way. You could’ve sworn you died a few minutes prior and came back as immortal — able to see through particles that floated on the air, hear cars, horns, music from houses all across town, smell the leaves that clung to the trees, damp with rain water and Autumn air. Your eyes roll back, perspiration damp behind the backs of your knees, where he’s got his current pinching grip, the fat of your thighs pressed into your tits, squishing them.

You realize in the moment, that you truly loathe condoms. Because this? Feeling that wet pre-cum smear down his shaft and around your opening as he pushed himself into you without a barrier for the first time, it was an indescribable experience. Each ridge, every vein, so hot, soft, and fucking, soaking wet. You aren’t sure where he ends and you begin. It hurts like hell, aches in the deepest parts of you, a place you know that he could easily put a child if you slipped up on your only remaining protection.

That thought makes you tighten around him, cream spilling out and further slicking back the curls gathered at his base. He drops your thighs, sweat-slick pelvis smashing into yours, stimulating your swollen clit. His chest hair scrapes against your pebbled nipples, making you arch your back and your toes curl, legs locking around his lower waist. He whines, palm coming up to grasp at your breast, calloused thumb strumming around your areola. “God, honey, your fucking nipples were made for my mouth to suck on.”

And he’s descending, his lips closing over one, tongue flicking and stimulating. You cry out, hand fisting into his honey streaked, chestnut locks. His shoulders work and bend, the dips and freckles and moles visible, glittering with the salt of sweat, his gold chain swaying out from his hairy chest and back again when he stops, nose bumping yours, hot breath on your mouth. “This pussy was made for my cock.”

And holy hell, his vocalizing focus doesn’t cease. “Who took your virginity, honey?” You both know it wasn’t him. But you are well aware what he’s getting at, and as he gives a harsh snap, those full and fat balls smacking your slick ass, you lose further coherency. “That’s right,” he’s speaking again. “They don’t matter, but I do.”

You weren’t aware that you could make the noises that you are. Only able to speak once Steve’s tugging himself and pulling out, stringing from your cunt to his shaft, a squelch echoing. You both groan, emptiness already jumpstarted. You plead for him. “Please, Stevie, need you! Put it back in —“

“Say it, say you’re just a hole for me to fill. That you’re only mine, baby.”

“I… Fuck! Stevie, all my holes are only yours, I’m only yours!”

He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, before his jaw drops open and he whimpers. His hand leaves your breast and slides across your sternum, your collarbone, and settles at your neck. You nod to encourage, and those defined digits wrap around your throat.

“Tell me you love these big hands, sweetheart. Because they’re for you. They belong to you!”

“Want them all over me, Steve. All the time. Can’t get enough of you.”

He’s holding firm to his cock, stroking and teasing. You lick your lips as you stare at it, drooling. Reaching down, you tap his wrist (his arm, all muscles and tendons, thick and available to trace with your tongue), as he presses the thick red head into your clit, smearing the combination of you two all around. You mewl in appreciation, legs stretching so far apart that your muscles protest. He’s speaking next, panting out, “Like that? Hey, look at me. He grabs your chin, thumb tugging down your bottom lip. “Like. That?”

Your lip releases with a plop.

“Yes, yes! Don’t stop, Steve, never wanna not feel you again, baby boy!”

“That’s a good girl, that’s my girl.” He circles your sore opening and slips back inside with a loud, wet ease. You bite back the burning pain, welcoming the damp tears of pleasure along your lashes.

Your manicured nails cling to his back, his chest gliding along yours, heartbeat to hammering heartbeat. It’s frantic whispers and begging cries. And when he’s close to coming, you find his cheek with one hand, holding. “For the record, you’ve never been casual to me, Steve Harrington.”

// Eat me paragraph //

[sunnytheopossum]

I’ve been rereading the MH comics (and rewatching the entire original series and watching analysis videos and reading all the puzzle deconstructions and watching all the behind-the-scenes--) and I wanted to talk about something I’ve noticed and also redraw one of my favorite panels in my style!

I love this one panel on page 19 in volume 3.5 SO MUCH! It legitimately made me tear up the first time I saw it. Watching the original Marble Hornets for the first time all those years ago (and honestly even still upon further rewatches), I always thought that the most tragic thing about Tim and Brian’s dynamic was that they used to be best friends, but then they had such a severe falling out that they would be willing to kill each other in the end, but this… reading this one scene put their entire relationship in a whole new light! They both felt hurt and betrayed by each other because of the circumstances they were forced into, but they never stopped caring about each other, and that’s DEVASTATING! I hope so badly that in future volumes (or possibly even in eckvanet if we’re lucky??) that we see Brian and Tim reconcile somehow, because if given the chance, I don’t think either of them would hesitate to do so. Love these boys.

(Also don’t mind the fact that he’s holding Alex up by the scruff of the neck like a wet cat, it just makes the whole scene even better imo and I wanted to emphasize it more in mine lmao)

Also also, dearest Troy Wagner: if the boys ever do see each other again and make up, can this be how the scene plays out? ( vvv ) Please and thank you.

XOXO -Sunny

[ink-n-shadow]

in love with your demon!ghost.

so i'm thinking, it must be terribly boring being stuck in a cage for so long. pets need enrichment and exercise don't they? so what does ghost give reader to keep her occupied? esp if he has Important Demon Stuff to do and she's left alone for long periods of time? does he give her puzzles or games or is there like a hellish version of tv there? (you can only watch the live stream of tortured souls burning in hell's fire for so long before it gets really boring and you switch the channel to reruns of the same Suave Demon Tricks Bad Human movie that you've watched five times now)

she can't fly with a broken wing, but surely a good owner would make sure she gets (supervised) walkies?

anon you are KILLING MEEE with this request :')

[ ENRICHMENT TIME ] 𝜗𝜚 the one where demon!ghost finally gives you enrichment and things to do outside of the cage

𝜗𝜚 pairing: broken angel!reader x demon!ghost 𝜗𝜚 cw: mature themes (no smut but minors still DNI), more demon!ghost being a simp, mentions of preening (but not what it means) 𝜗𝜚 link to all my works in the demon!ghost au can be found here

demon!ghost never even thought about getting things to keep you entertained while you sit all pretty in your cage. he wouldn't understand why you couldn't just sit still and watch whatever television program or movie he'd left on from the night before—because surely that should be enough enrichment for you, right?

it would take a couple days of begging (and pouting when ghost would promptly shut down your requests or flat out ignored you) for him to finally listen.

and now he's giving you stacks of books from his personal library, works from both underworld and human realm authors, watching from his usual place on his expansive leather sofa as you thumb eagerly through the pages. he never knew his little dove would be such a bookworm, listening as you eagerly relay your thoughts and opinions on works that demon!ghost has spent centuries reading and rereading.

it would take a little more convincing before demon!ghost is bringing you little puzzles and crafts from his visits to the human realm (things he definitely stole). that's how he finds himself situated on the marbled floors of his living room, your body sprawled out across his thick thighs as you try and show him the latest thing you had embroidered that day. you would definitely try to teach him, but he'd get too frustrated trying to thread the tiny human-sized needle to actually make any progress.

but demon!ghost's favorite thing to do was take you for your (now routine) nightly stroll in the garden, his clawed hand held firmly in both of yours as you both stroll through the cobbled labyrinth. he'd constantly grumble about how tightly you were clinging to him, chastising you for being scared of the hellish sounds of the underworld around you (but he's secretly pulling you closer, wanting to make sure you feel protected at all times).

the nightly walks gave you the chance to stretch your legs, joints creaking from being curled up in the cage for the day. demon!ghost would be in awe as you stretched out your pretty iridescent wings fully, bringing his clawed hand down to try and preen the unruly crooked feathers from the base of your wing.

but demon!ghost really doesn't understand why you shiver and writhe with each feather he plucks, seemingly completely oblivious to just what preening meant to an angel like you.

[earth-b0y]

Yo did you ever make that sundae?

Yup!

[thoughtsfromlayla]

26 Ways of Taking You: A for Aphrodisiac

Summary: On a quest to save your little brother, you and your fated companion Dream of the Endless, run into a small problem in Aphrodite's Temple.

Notes: ~2.2k words, GUYS! I finally wrote a fic that wasn't below 500 or above 5,000 words, it just doesn't need any random side characters... or a definitive plot.

Warnings: MDNI - 18+, dubious consent, sex pollen, aphrodisiac (duh), porn without plot, unprotected sex (get tested yearly guys), P in V, no foreplay just straight fucking, Dream is a red flag but he's my red flag. I am willing to die on that hill.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Next

“A temple of Aphrodite?” You question as you walk through the marbled entrance. The overwhelming smell of roses fills your senses and the honks of swans disappear as you cross into the building.

Morpheus follows closely behind. The drizzle of rain seemingly bounces off his coat and hair leaving him dry like the Sahara. On the other hand, you, the poor human with no otherworldly affiliations, were soaked to the bone. Your light jacket and sundress stuck to your skin until it became itchy and you quickly take off your jacket to dry easier in the momentary shelter. 

You miss the way Morpheus stares at your exposed shoulders and legs. His eyes run up and down your body, to the way the dress sticks to you like a second skin.

“Aphrodite loved Ares, unlike her vowed husband. But such is the game of gods.” Morpheus explains and peels his eyes away from you. 

You lean on a large pillar that supports a large brazier, one of many others. The heat helps you warm up and the shivers slowly leave your body as it dries your clothes. 

“So, Ares is… here?” You say without much confidence.

When the fates set you out on this quest to find your brother, you hadn’t even packed your lunch yet. They just threw you to the wind and then gave you Morpheus as a guide. As for him, it was so “He could get out of the house more” as his older sister has explained it to you. 

So, here you were, soaked in summer rain and sharing conversation with Dream of the Endless on a quest to find your kidnapped brother - all of which happened since this morning. The everything bagel and cream cheese you had for breakfast sat uncomfortably in your stomach, the same stomach that was screaming at you to eat something as your journey had left you to skip the midday meal. 

“Ares is behind this gate created by Aphrodite,” Dream sighs as if he were spelling out the obvious. “Yes, it is a possibility.”

You simply roll your eyes. For someone who is almost infinitely older than you, he certainly didn’t act like it. Feeling warmer and dry you started exploring the temple, running your fingers across the divots in the carved stone much like the climbing ivy that decorated the walls. 

At the end of the temple stood a magnificent statue of Aphrodite herself, wrapped in cloth and her hair flowing in the wind. Beneath her pedestal, you could make out a rectangular outline made out of large roses. 

“Hey! The door!” You exclaim in excitement. As much as you hate to admit it, Morpheus was right. He usually was right but you’d rather keep that comment to yourself, in case the ego inflates any more of his head and he drifts off. Which, would unfortunately leave you on your own to solve these puzzles. 

Morpheus appears behind you, peering over your shoulder at the door. 

“Seems like a hidden mechanism. It would be wise to not touc-”

You press your palm onto the center of the door and it gives away to the pressure of it. 

“You fool!” Morpheus seethes out and you tense. 

It seems like a trap, now that you think about it. With bated breath you wait, slowly inching yourself closer to Morpheus in hopes that the King of Dreams may be able to protect you if something were to go wrong. 

Yet, nothing. 

The door slides back into place, the sound of marble against marble scraping against each other in the otherwise completely quiet sanctuary. The quiet atmosphere stays peaceful for a few seconds but ends when a yelp escapes you when the roses suddenly go into full bloom, the petals giving a “floosh” right in your face, its sweet pollen dusting both of your bodies. You stare wide-eyed at it waiting for anything else to happen. When nothing did, you let out a sigh of relief and turn to Dream with a smile. 

“See, nothing to worry about.” You shrug with your palms facing upwards. The two of you stare back as a golden engraving appears on the door. 

“One from two, enter together.” You read out loud while trying to dust off the shimmering pollen, sneezing when some enter your nose instead. 

Great, a riddle but nothing comes to your mind as you think. Morpheus glares at you still and his eyes drift down to the palm that touched the door. 

“Your hand is glowing,” He states. 

You look down at your open palm and panic. The skin is bright pink and as Morpheus has stated, glowing. You scream at your hand and shake it aggressively. When the glowing still doesn’t reside you scream again and face the palm towards Morpheus’ face and shake it aggressively to grab his attention. 

“Enough,” He commands and grabs your wrist. The grip is stern but it doesn’t hurt and the warmth of his skin calms you down. 

It is now that you realize that the skin doesn’t actually hurt. There’s no burning sensation or pins or needles, nothing. Morpheus takes a closer look at your hand and you can feel the exhale of his breath fanning your palm. It tickles and you try to pull away, but his grip doesn’t relent. 

“What? Do you see something?” You ask, your other hand is clenched in on itself as a way of grounding yourself. 

Morpheus doesn’t entertain you with an answer and instead brings his face closer. A sound that you didn’t know you could produce comes out from your throat as you feel the warm, slick feeling of his tongue on your palm. 

“Wha..mm” Your words fall short and he licks again and a whimper leaves your lips. You look up at him, his eyes are closed as he inhales deeply.

He brings your hand to his cheek and leans into it. When you release your hand and he lets you, you see that your glowing mark has smeared to his cheek. You come in closer, nervous about marking the Endless but he stops you again. He peers at you, all silver gone from his eyes and instead blown pupils pull you deep into their voids. 

His hands find themselves around your waist and you place your hands on his chest to stop him from invading any more of your space. It doesn’t and he advances still. His brooding act doesn’t help with voicing whatever he could possibly be thinking. 

“Hey, what’s gotten into you,” You release a moan at the end when he presses his nose to the junction of your neck. The hot breath released from his mouth had your lower regions start to grow hot and slick. 

When his tongue licks the length of your neck, your fingers grasp desperately at the lapels of his jacket, holding on tight as your knee buckle beneath you. Morpheus smelled like grass after a summer thunderstorm and he stood sturdy like an old oak tree. 

You whisper his name and his grip tightens more, bruising and unforgiving. 

He groans into your neck. “Aphrodisiac.” 

Of course, Aphrodisiac, named after the goddess Aphrodite, the very goddess you are trying to please and solve her riddle. The thought crosses your mind momentarily but it is quickly cut short by Morpheus’ continued administration. The pink stain spreads further on Morpheus, anywhere and everywhere you touch him. Your cheek was pink as well, where he touched yours and markings of his tongue glowed pink as he continued his kisses down your neck and across your collarbone. 

“Oh, gods,” You moan into his hair as he dives deeper towards your chest. Your body is turning hot and you can’t tell if it’s just the aphrodisiac or the way he is touching you. Perhaps it’s neither, perhaps it’s both. Either way, you can’t stop the sounds that escape your lips. 

He presses forward and you step back until your back hits the pedestal and Morpheus’ large frame follows, trapping you between a rock and a harder place. You can feel his erection pressing against your stomach, hot and heavy and begging to be released. 

With restraint, Morpheus pulls back and pants into your neck. Your own breath was ragged, your tongue felt heavy when you speak. 

“Please,” You whisper, your hands travel down his chest, pink smearing along his black shirt, and cup his erection. 

He looks at you now, eyes peering into your soul asking you if you really did want this. You nod, not trusting your voice for a second time. 

“Say it,” He commands again, his forehead pressed against yours. “Say it,” He whispers in a plea. 

You tip your head up and respond with the strength you have left. “Yes,” You murmur against his lips, barely brushing yours with his own. 

He seals the deal with a kiss and hands once again go to your waist. He grabs you, hoisting you up and your legs immediately wrap themselves around his lean torso. You impatiently grind your heat into his as he dips his hands below your dress line and moves your undergarments to the side. 

It was rushed, it was sloppy and it was nowhere near romantic, yet you’ve never felt so much excitement. No one was near but the peering gaze of the daunting Aphrodite statue made you feel exposed. Morpheus doesn’t bother to warm you up for him and the heat of his cock presses against your cunt. He pushes forward and it stings. Tears swell in your eyes at the intrusion, his cock splitting you open as he sets a rhythmic pace. 

“Forgive me, forgive me,” He chants into your ear but the words fly in one ear and out the other. The pleasure the Dream Lord was giving you more important and present in your mind. 

Your hand reaches into his hair and grabs onto his roots. A groan sings from his throat and you can’t help it when your lips connect to his Adam’s apple. You leave bruising kisses along his neck and continuously feel the vibrations of his moans, each one low and gritty. 

Morpheus felt like he was about to lose his mind if he didn’t quickly finish the two of you off. His body felt like it was on fire and his head pounded in his skull with ideologies of fucking you until you were nothing but a pile of pleasure. When your nails grip his shoulders, he welcomes the pain and bites down on your collarbone to suppress his wanton moans. 

You were too sweet for him, a type of innocence that he didn’t want to taint. Tears well up in his eyes as he realizes that he did it without him even knowing. The aphrodisiac completely consumes the two of you. He loved it, the feeling of your legs wrapped around his waist, your grip on his hair, your moans filling the space and echoing around the temple, but were not his to take. 

“More, more, more,” You moan, head thrown back towards the ceiling and he couldn’t deny you the pleasure.

His thrusts become ferocious, slamming into you harder and harder until you were just a babbling mess in front of him. Your words range from his name to curses to simple pleas. The contractions of your cunt spasming around him make him falter for a moment but he presses on. When your orgasm reaches you, your scream is muffled by his open mouth kiss. His thrusts turn sloppy and uneven before he finishes as well and you feel the way his cock pulses within you. His semen drips out of your spent hole and mixes with your release on the polished marble floor. 

Your body deflates as the orgasm finishes and you’re left panting and leaning on Morpheus as your thighs tremble around his waist. The door behind you opens with an ungodly scrapping sound and you look behind you. Lust was still evident in your eyes but you were pulled back to the real world again. 

The aphrodisiac wore off and a blush rose high into your cheeks. You push against Morpheus’ chest not wanting to be in his space, asking him to put you down, but quickly realize that it was a bad idea when your knees buckle and you start to fall. 

Morpheus grabs onto you to steady you and you murmur a thanks, too embarrassed to look at him in the eyes. The aphrodisiac has made you look at Morpheus in a different light, but there were more important matters at hand. You take one steady breath and readjust your underwear and dress, Morpheus releases his grip on your arms as you go to turn towards the open door. 

Beyond the door is nothing but darkness with a slight wind blowing out towards you and the smell of metal and leather comes into your nose. Before you can go, Morpheus’ fingers wrap around your arm again. 

“Should we… talk about it?” He asks in that low voice of his. 

You look back at him, somehow finding the confidence to look at him in the eyes. You find that they are full of adoration and passion that it turns your eyes downwards again. You’ve heard the rumors of what it means to be the lover to Dream of the Endless. It is rainbows and butterflies, the world at the edge of your fingertips, but one wrong move, and you are cast away like you were less than nothing. You think of Nada, Queen of the First People, who is still condemned to Hell for declining his promise to make her queen of the Dreaming. 

It’s too much, you have your brother to save, and there is no room to talk about love. 

“Later,” You say instead. You still need his help and if the promise of ‘later’ keeps him around long enough until the end of your quest, then so be it. 

“Very well. Later,” He repeats then follows you into the realm of Ares.

Next

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Want to be added to my tag list for my future fics? Comment, send me a message, or a DM and I'll add you!

This is going to be a 26 part series, all porn, no plot hehe ( ๑‾̀◡‾́)

Until the next fic,

♡ Yours, Layla

[sugurizz]

(SMUT/NSFW +18 - minors DNI !)

𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭.: Joo Jaekyung x f! reader - 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏 , 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟑

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: world champion Team Black's Joo Jaekyung is the hottest sensation in the MMA universe. His name is not only feared and respected on the streets, but desired in the sheets. Little did physiotherapist Y/n know, she was about to learn it the hard way.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 / 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: dark content ahead! explicit content, dubcon, graphic content, dom/sub dynamics, power dynamics, degradation, nicknames (Doc, slut, whore, etc...)

𝐰.𝐜: 1,1k.

𝐉𝐎𝐎 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐊𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐆 − 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

And who's this now? What is she doing here?'

'Please welcome y/n. She'd be our substitute physical therapist for now. hope you guys would get along.' Responded team coach Park Namwook as he gently gave your shoulder a pat.

'You keep bringing these goons around! And none of them seems to get the job done right!' He harshly dismissed your presence, looking at the coach, then scoffed as he walked back into the sparring room.

'You'll have to deal with him after the sparring matches. He's quite the hardass at times, but I know I can rely on you.'

The coach gave you a rather awkward smile, brushing off the rude welcoming you suddenly received.

-----

You stepped into the therapy room and hanged your backpack, just as he came in, skin gleaming with sweat and pitch black strands messy. His eyes accidentally met yours as he layed down on the chair.

'I'm taking the shirt off. It's drenched in sweat.'

Your heart sunk. You turned around to see his large torso on full display. He clearly did it for an understandable reason, but your brain went blank and your fingertips froze for a split second, until a deep voice shook you out of it..

'Last week's treatment sucked. The last substitute coach brought here was so incompetent. My muscles remained tense anyway. And the cramps in my left shoulder got even worse.'

'I understand, sir. I'll work on a different treatment routine. I'm sorry for your last week's inconvenience.'

You somehow fancied remaining professional at that moment. Despite his clear attitude, you knew your job as physiotherapist was to provide the team members with effective remedies in the first place.

He shrugs and looks away, closing his eyes in annoyance as he muttered,

'And better make it quick. I don't have all night ahead.'

You nodded as you approached his frame. Took a deep breath as your palms landed on his skin. It was a mix of heat and cold, a marble-like texture that you didn't expect a UFC fighter -notably the best of the best- to have.

the session went rather smoothly, no words were spoken. but at least you could tell the silence was a rather relieving sign.

'S-Sir...c-could you point to me the spot where your shoulder feels most painful, please?'

He placed his hand on the back of his shoulder, eyes still closed. And you complied as you started massaging it. His features flinched for a while, and your heart skipped a beat as you slowly neared the end of the session.

'I'll have to say that your shoulder might need a few more sessions, sir. It seems that the tendons on your upper left arm are the reason you're struggling with pain in your shoulder.'

'I'm not spending any extra time on nonsense! You figure out how to heal it. And you'll do it during the normal sessions.'

He glanced at you sternly as he stood up and straightened himself. Not acknowleging you a second further...

-----

The next day's session was just about to start, an unspoken tension grew inside your chest. The uncertainty of what could happen every time your hands stroked against his rock hard abs, toned arms, and god-like v lined pelvis had your face heating up.

He walked in as usual. you greeted him with a pale smile and performed your service as good as you could...

...'Hey, do you work extra hours? I'll pay you.'

He opened a half-lidded eye, voice deeper than you recognized.

you turned around, puzzled ..

'I...can do that. It would buy me some extra time to focus on your upper arm's tendons.'

'Good. I'm only open for extra sessions in my apartment, though.'

'B-but sir! I'm not sure if I can commute to your place at such a late hour...' You jolted immediately, almost panicking at the sudden request.

'I can tell you're not good with directions. Meet me at the entrance in 15 minutes. I'm driving there anyway.'

He muttered nonchalently as he got up and left the room, leaving you standing up there, mind foggy and racing trying to process what just happened...

...the ride home was silent. The flashing lights of the city were the only way you could ignore the heavy weight upon your heart. You got off as you arrived and made your way behind him to the apartment.

'There. You can place your stuff anywhere. And follow me quick.'

He laid down on a king-sized bed, eyeing you up and down as you set foot into the room.

'I'll make it short and quick.

I fuck before matches. For a reasonable price. Choice is yours.'

You somehow managed to stay cool and collected, but the silence that followed crushed your soul. He was still waiting for your response. Not that you were aware of his fiery eyes almost piercing a burning hole through your chest.

'W-why?...sir..' a broken protest left your throat. But he seemed so unfazed by it all.

'If it's a no you can leave now. No more words needed.'

He looked away, turning around to face the huge bay window, shining through the city lights. you felt unjustifiably intoxicated. was it his huge frame? the unforgettable scent of his room? or just the nasty desire that you kept suppressing since your eyes met his dark ones? You didn't know for sure. But the way he felt like he could crush you evertime he randomly stood next to you had you picturing all kinds of the filthiest things he could do to you...

...

'W-what would it be.... if I...agreed, s-sir?...'

'Oh. playing sly are we?'

He walked up to you with a mishievious grin on his face, then leaned down enough for his lips to meet your ears.

'If you agree, you get fucked to my heart's content. No playing around. No lovey-dovey shit.'

The brutal tone was supposed to distaste you, but for whatever messed up reason made you feel the throb straight down your womb, and between your legs.

'So?'

You snapped out. His warm breath was still ghosting over your neck, just enough to tease your senses, without ever touching you.

You looked into his eyes like a frightened deer, tho your fear merged with the heat in your belly.

'N-No one...can hear about this! sir'

'Not that anyone else can see me balls deep in you, can they?'

He raised an eyebrow, shit-eating grin still over his lips as his monster-like frame invaded your space. Your brain shut down, heart hammering as you looked back into his eyes...

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟑?...

𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒.

[deathbyathousandspiders]

peter and reader at avengers tower and they’re both avengers but they’re “best friends” cuddled up on the couch asleep and none of the avengers let them forget it for weeks

i gotchu ;) also thank you for the request !! i really appreciate it! <3

!!! read part two | part three | part four | part five here !!!

✨masterlist✨.

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Being an Avenger definitely came with plenty of risks, seeing as you put your life on the line every day in attempt to save the world. Along with the risks, there were several upsides that outweighed your anxieties about the superhero lifestyle.

Every few months, the team was required to spend a week at the compound for training; it was something fairly stupid, but staying in the mansion for a week wasn’t something you’d complain about. Especially when the team made the most of it.

You enjoyed getting up at dawn to run with Steve, and cooking dinners with Wanda. One thing always stood out to be something you looked forward to most: movie night. You came up with the system so that everyone had a chance to pick a movie, and this week, it was Steve’s turn to pick. Unfortunately, he chose “Snow White and the Seven Dwarves.”

The entire team corralled on the couch, sharing four or five bowls of popcorn and chips, and watching the movie on the giant flat–screen in the meeting room. You were sandwiched between Steve and Peter, attentive to the screen in fear that Steve would be offended if you weren’t. It made you crack a small grin to overhear Sam trying to commentate on the movie, and Bucky immediately tell him to shut the hell up.

You don’t recall at what point of the movie you fell asleep, or how the blanket got draped over you, but it didn’t catch your attention quite like the silent snorer you were cuddled next to. The sound was oddly soothing, and the arm snaked around your torso warmed you more than the blanket did. You would’ve tried to drift back off to sleep in the midst of comfort, if not for the snickers heard beyond your closed eye–lids.

“They look so cozy.” Bucky’s voice was hushed, speaking just above a whisper. The dark of your closed eyes lit up for a second by what you recognized as a shuttered flash photo.

Shit.

“I’m going to make that my lock–screen.” Sam added, trying not to sound as amused as he felt.

There was a quiet pause. “Isn’t that a little weird?” Bucky’s whispered question carried itself above the scattered footsteps of their departure.

When their ascending paces creaked the carpeted floors further out, your eyes lifted, turning your head up to look up at your designated pillow. Upon shifting your sleeping position, you watched Peter adjust mid–slumber, unconsciously catering to your new position.

A smile touched your lips at how peaceful he looked beside you — mouth parted slightly, eyes gently shut, curls falling in front of his face. When you moved to sit up a little, his armed grip around your waist grew tighter, and his sleep stirred at the idea of your absence. You decided against leaving, or moving, and rested your head in the nook of his shoulder. Sleep welcomed you back into slumber quicker than Sam changed his wallpaper.

When you woke in the morning, you thought almost nothing of falling asleep next to Peter. The only thing left to remind you was the lingering aroma of Peter’s cologne, and the ghost of his arm leaving your waistline colder than the rest of your body.

You didn’t pay much mind to it, nor how frequently your train of thought seemed to derail back to Peter somehow; how snug his hold was, the way your head fit with his shoulder like a missing puzzle piece. It felt like a slow–burning ache, the way you missed him. But he was merely your best friend, and the rest of the team seemed to agree with that.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Sam chimed, watching you waltz into the kitchen. He leaned the small of his back against the marble countertop beside the espresso machine, waiting for the pull of his latte shots.

Your hair was still damp from your shower, and your hoodie husked over your body to protect from the looming winter chill. You arched a brow lightly at how amused he seemed to be, slowly recalling his whispered conversation with Bucky from the night prior. You decided to be coy with him. “I think you’ve got your Disney movies mixed up.” You started, pressing on your tiptoes to reach a bowl from the shelf. “We watched Snow White last night, Sam.”

He hummed, sounding skeptical. “Well, everybody but you and your little cuddle–bug boyfriend.” Sam tried to keep himself from laughing. He started to steam the milk he’d set aside to froth to cut you off from giving a witty remark.

Boyfriend. Peter wasn’t your boyfriend, and he probably wouldn’t ever be your boyfriend. Admitting that to yourself sent a sharp jab at your heartstrings, but the pain was quick. Quick like the blush that fanned your face before you dismissed it. Quick like the pour of cereal into your bowl like the thought didn’t flash through your mind.

The steam wand simmered down, and you made it a point to let out a scoff that he could hear. “He’s not my boyfriend–”

You turned. Like an idiot, you turned, bumping bodies with someone and nearly spilled your entire bowl of cereal across the tiled floors of the kitchen. Wide eyed, you looked up, meeting the familiar stare of your best friend. His arms hovered inches from yours, but the electricity flowing between you felt like that length was much shorter. The scent of his cologne filled the room so quick, you nearly forgot how to breathe.

Peter tried to laugh off how tense the room felt, feeling safe enough to once he knew you were okay. “Who’s not your boyfriend?” He asked, the chuckle weaving through his words, sending a pink glisten to your cheeks.

You could feel the smile Sam pressed to the lip of his mug, slurping his latte as he eyed the two of you. “I’ll give you guys the room.” With that, he left, still leaving the kitchen with just as thick of tension. It felt like he left a gigantic elephant in the room, one that had never existed to them until Sam pointed it out. He pointed it out all because you passed out on Peter’s shoulder.

Shaky fingers set the bowl of cookie crisps on the kitchen island before you walked to the fridge for some milk. Your eyes stayed glued to your task, almost like you were trying to avoid eye contact with Peter for some weird reason. How odd.

“Boyfriend?” You pressed air through your closed lips, blowing a dismissive rasberry. “I didn’t say boyfriend, I said Boygenius–” It was a solid cover up, for sure; you thought, pouring milk over your cereal. “They’re performing this weekend with Clairo–”

Peter pressed his palm into the kitchen island, leaning against the structure right beside you. The body heat from him radiated into yours from your close proximity, reeling you in with how intoxicating his presence was. “Y/N, are you hiding something from me?” He faked an offended expression, mouth agape from his act of shock.

That’s when your eyes met. And you swore that the connection of your vision sent him every thought that ran through your head. Every feeling that coursed through your veins telepathically traveled through his too. It was a second, just one second, where you felt like he shared the same conflicting feelings you did. Perhaps he felt the same attraction towards you that you felt for him.

It didn’t help that he stared down at you with such earnesty and attentive nature. His eyes glossed over every inch of your face, studying your expression like he’d find the answer to his question there. You knew the exact moment that he found it, too.

Shit.

You picked up your bowl of cereal, stiffening your posture as you took careful steps backwards. “Nope! Nothing. I’m not hiding anything!” You sounded as suspicious as ever, so your escape route needed to be hasty. You opened and closed the fridge with just enough time to throw the milk in before rushing off to your bedroom.

This wasn’t the first time you’d gotten these intrusive–romantic thoughts about Peter Parker, or when you’d gotten these frantic–giddy jitters around him, either. Typically, you just let them die out over a day or two and then you could find your little pocket of comfort and normalcy again.

But the second you entered your room, you saw the framed photo of what you assumed was the photo Sam took of you and Peter passed out on the couch. The second you saw it, you knew this wouldn’t die out as quickly as you’d hoped. You couldn’t lie, though…It was a pretty cute photo. Although, you didn’t have too much time to dwell on the captured moment. The neon–pink sticky note on the top right corner caught your attention.

‘I better get invited to the wedding, —Sam.’

Shit.