I Would Let Them Tag Team Me. That's It. That's The Post.

You should write more about that first part of those headcanons 💚

anon i literally thought you were riley because she asked me to do the exact same thing .2 seconds after she read them y’all are kindred spirits i swear

but anyways I hope you like this!! one tall glass of shane juice just for ya babes. putting a cut because this got hella long. chug that spicy fluff ladies x

It’s the end of autumn, and Marnie has asked Shane to look over Jas for the night. Jas is absolutely elated.

“Sleepover! Sleepover! Sleepover!” she chants, jumping up and down on the couch.

Shane chuckles, bringing out plates of pizza slices for them into the living room.

“It’s not a sleepover if we already live together, squirt,” he teases her.

Jas pouts at him. “Yes it is!” she insists.

He huffs. “Fine, you know what, if you want this to be a sleepover, let’s make it one. Just please don’t tell aunt Marnie I heated up pizza instead of the soup she left for us.”

Jas giggles. “Promise I won’t tell,” she tries to wink but just ends up blinking. “Pinky swear!” she adds, holding out her pinky and waving it at him.

Shane easily grabs her pinky with his. “I’ll hold you to it,” he says with a faked seriousness.

He pops in the movie into the player, some animated film about dancing sister princesses. If he didn’t go to Jas’s room regularly, he wouldn’t remember the last time he saw so much pink. He doesn’t mind, though; Jas is delighted, which is all that matters. 

They finish their pizza pretty quickly, and Jas nestles into his side on the couch. He puts his arm around her, a swell of pride burgeoning inside. She’s so tiny, her breaths so small. He forgets sometimes. 

They are halfway through the movie when someone knocks at the door.

“Who is it?” Jas asks, looking up at him.

“I don’t know,” he answers, frowning as he checks the time. “Don’t worry, I’m going to go check and be right back. You can tell me what I missed when I get back,” he ruffles the top of her head.

She giggles, before focusing back on the movie. He gets up with a grunt, stretching out. His steps are lazy as he makes his way to the door. The knocks come again.

“Yeah, yeah, coming,” he mutters.

He swings the door open, and is shocked to see you there.

“What are you doing here so late?” he asks, confused.

You take a second to answer, blinking at him. “Why hello Shane, good to see you too,” you grimace.

He sighs and scratches his cheek, slightly embarrassed. “Sorry. I, uh, nice to see you. But why am I seeing you, exactly? Weren’t you… mad at me?”

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I'll tell you a secret... my name 'Sam' is short for 'Samson'.

You’re mine

Summary: You and Loki are in a relationship. Loki is quite jelous of Steve. When Steve helps you on a mission, Loki decides you need to be reminded to who you belong. Word count: 1.979 words Warnings: Dubious consent A/N: A little bit shorter than usual. Didn’t have a lot of time this week. Hope you’ll still enjoy it :)

The explosion was unexpected. Rubble was starting to come down, the building next to you was hit. Looking up, you saw the rubble coming at down at high-speed. You were going to get hit. Your movement froze and the only thing you did was staring at the rocks, getting bigger, getting closer. Suddenly a large figure grabbed your waist and pushed you down. It took you a moment to realize it was Steve. He was holding you tightly, his shield protecting the both of you against the falling rocks. He got up and helped you to your feet. “Try to stay sharp! We’re almost done.” he said to you before he ran off.

You looked around for any civilians. There were non left behind. The only person you saw was Loki. He was staring at you from the other side of the street. He looked mad. You started to walk towards him, but he disappeared. You shrugged it off. After a last check to be sure that there weren’t any civilians left, you walked towards the rest of the group. Steve, Thor and Robert were standing in the middle of the road. Building rocks were scattered all around this part of the city, cars were smashed and you could see bullet holes in the structures. Walking towards the group you asked if there was anything you could do. They dismissed you and you walked back to the chopper.

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The forest - Tom Riddle (smut)

It's been a hot minute since I've posted something for Tom. This is basically just pwp, not as dark as most of my Tom imagines. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Tom fucks the reader in the forest.

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, mentions blood, public sex, Tom Riddle being Tom Riddle

Pairing: Tom Riddle x fem!reader

“You've told me you love me, you promised, (y/n).” Sharp as a blade Tom’s voice cuts through the night. She didn’t move, kept staring at the boy, too intimidated by the blood that ran down his forearm. His knife fell to the ground, a moment of distraction (y/n) tried to use, turning her back on Tom and the ritual he had been planning for weeks.

“(Y/n),” he singsang her name, following her every step, toying with her like a predator would tease its prey. “You belong to me, you’re mine. Running away won’t change anything.”

For a second she slowed down, pondering over his words, trying to drown out the silent whispers of her heart, begging her to return to the man she had loved since she the day she had arrived at Hogwarts. Tom had always been different, he had intrigued her, she began to weasel her way into his life, unknowingly she forged a bond with the darkness itself.

“I don’t want to die, Tom.” By now Tom was standing behind her, front pressed against her back. Bloody hands ran up and down her arms, not giving her any room to move away from him. “I won’t let any harm come your way, I will protect you.”

His voice sounded unusually sweet and soft - as if he was truly meaning what he was speaking. In his own twisted ways Tom Riddle loved (y/n) just as much, but while she dreamt about a life with him by her side as her husband, Tom dreamt of ruling the world with her as his expedient. She would rescue him if his plan would fail, (y/n) wouldn’t leave him.

Lips met her throat, kissing their way up to her ear. Her back arched into his touch, jaw muscles twitching from the way she kept on grinding her teeth. Both knew that Tom had her trapped, a vulnerable girl that needed him to guide her out of the thickness of the trees.

Carefully he brought his hands to the bow that kept her blouse together, he ran his fingers along the lacing, while (y/n)’s eyes admired the silvery rings he wore. Tom mumbled her name as he undid her blouse, cupping her braclad boobs, pinching her nipples through the fabric, rolling them around between his fingers.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” He taunted her, chuckling as (y/n) shook her head, biting down on her lip to stop her moans from leaving her, not wanting to attract any creatures nearby. Tom tightened his grip on her chest, rolling his middle against her behind, making her aware of his hardening cock.

“I’m waiting.” Tom’s voice dropped lower, hands moving down her upper body, stroking her soft skin, running along the waistband of her skirt. (Y/n) shook her head, panting his name as he pulled her skirt up to her waist, exposing her bare cunt to the cold air. A pleased groan left Tom as he cupped her dripping sex, teasing her slit with his slender fingers.

(Y/n) couldn’t stop her hands from reaching for his bulge, fingers dancing along its outlines, trying to keep herself focused on Tom.

“Did you wait for this to happen? Did you imagine me fucking you here, where anybody could find us?” The moonlight was shining through the trees, illuminating his soft features, making the sinister boy look like a saint. If (y/n) wouldn’t be this far gone she would have laughed about the halo around his head - Tom Riddle was anything but a good man.

Tom turned them around, lips hungrily kissing hers as her back met a tree trunk. The bark scratched her skin, ripped it open, but (y/n) didn’t seem to care, wrapping her leg around his waist. She struggled to keep her eyes open, hands toying with his trousers, pulling his cock out of the confines of his clothes.

With his hands on her hips Tom pounded into her tightness, (y/n) moaned into his mouth, hands holding onto his neck. Just as he filled her to the brim he pulled out once again, slamming back in to knock all air out of her lungs. Her chest was burning, muscles stretching around him, allowing him to rest comfortably between her folds.

“Your body knows that it belongs to me, do you feel that? Can you feel how your walls are begging for my cock?” Tom rasped into her ear, tongue wetting his lips as he kept on snapping his hips, making sure to leave bruises. His eyes were full of emotions, dark and sinister pupils studied her, making sure that she wouldn’t rip herself away from him.

(Y/n) swallowed her pants, chest rising and falling, fingernails dragging along his exposed skin. His hands kept on leaving bloody prints on her waist and thighs, later on that night he would let his blood meet hers, forever binding her to his soul and body.

Tom’s brows tilted in pleasure as (y/n) began to squeeze his cock, walls gripping him tightly. He would always be in control, the one to guide her, to ruin her, till she no longer knew her own name.

His skin met her hips faster and faster, a ferocious pace that left her body tingling. The chilly air that danced along their bodies pulled them closer together, warmth crashing against warmth, brewing together as the darkness was growing thicker. Tom Riddle was one with the darkness, a personification of all evil this world could offer.

And she loved it.

“Fuck, Tom, right there.” She stuttered, pulling him in for another kiss, biting down on his lip as his tip met her swollen spot, sending bolts of pleasure through her. All too soon she would crash against him, body hurling forwards, losing her balance.

A few owls howled in the distance, reminding them that they weren't hidden away in his chambers, protected by the stone walls and dark curtains. Something about this felt all too intimate, exposed to nature itself, to all eyes around the two.

“Look at me, I want you to beg for it.” Tom needed to hear her begging, praises he needed to keep on functioning, praises to urge him on as his cock kept on ripping her walls apart.

“Oh fuck, Tom, I-” a heavy breath spilled from her lips, insides churning as she was ready to let go. “Let me cum, please, I’ve been good. I will do anything, please.”

“Anything, you say?” (Y/n) couldn’t focus on his words, needed to cum around his cock, waiting for the coil to snap, allowing her to lose herself in the pleasure. She nodded her head, begging him once again.

“Cum for me, darling.” She came with a cry of his name, stomach spasming, limbs quivering, about to let go of her weight. Her orgasm rattled through her system, holding onto her soul, soothing her burns. The feeling seemed all too overwhelming, her body fell against his, arms tightening their grip around his neck, scared that she would crash to the ground.

Tom followed her down the edge, forcing her to take his release, the white cum that stuck to her walls, marking her as his once again. Both stayed pressed together, bodies still united, careful not to waste any drops of arousal. The night was dragging on as they found comfort in the silence, renewing their promises for a better world - a world Tom Riddle would force to its knees.

Diamonds (Sirius Black)

Word Count: 0.8k

Summary: Sirius helps you get ready for a date night

A/N: This is for @ladyvesuvia writing challenge!! No warnings, just self-indulgent fluff!! Talks of marriage and the future. No reader pronouns used. My requests are open!

As you stood in front of the floor length mirror in your dorm room, your eyes wandered over to Sirius who was sprawled out on your bed behind you, content in simply watching you get ready for the night. His eyes ran over your face in the mirror as you rummaged through your jewelry, selecting a necklace that you often wore on the romantic escapades that Sirius planned. 

You held the gems up to your neck, debating if the piece went with the outfit that you wore – chosen by Sirius, of course. Getting ready for date nights was never really a hassle as Sirius helped pick your outfits, held your small mirror while you did your makeup, and helped style your hair. Truthfully, date nights started hours before you left the common room as you spent the better half of the afternoon together anyways.

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idk there’s just something about this dude

— CHERRY RED.

pairing: tasm!peter parker x reader

summary: it's the hottest day of the year, your air conditioning is broken, and all you and your roommate slash best friend slash crush have are a box of cherry flavored popsicles and months of pent up sexual frustration each other

warnings: smut. smut smut smut smut lots of smut and, oh yeah, smut! praise kink, (mild) dom!peter, fingering, (brief) dry humping, ice play? popsicle play? also swearing, no use of a condom because mc is on the pill but use protection y'all. best friends 2 lovers, college roommate au

author’s note: inspired very much so by the sudden increase in weather :) my first time writing smut btw so apologies if it's bad, let me know what u think and happy reading angels! ♡

“Oh, you have got to be shitting me,” you practically yell in the middle of the freezer aisle, wincing when you spot the concerned face of a mother covering the ears of her toddler.

The apologetic look you offer her quickly turns sour when you notice the mother-daughter duo is the reason for your outburst. The reason you’re about to tear off the door to the grocery store freezer and snap it in two like a graham cracker.

They took the last box of lemonade popsicles.

You fight an internal debate, the dehydration from today being the record-breaking hottest day of the year almost swaying your decision not to snatch the box right out of the toddler’s hands, before reluctantly picking up the cherry flavored ones.

Oh well, you think, at least your roommate Peter gets his favorite flavor. It's a little hard to look on the bright side however, when your jeans are sticking to you from perspiration, clinging on like a second skin. Those, and the ill-chosen long sleeve shirt, are the reason you practically run to the self-service checkout counter in a hurry to get home.

You're just about to scan the box of popsicles when your phone dings with a notification.

spiderboy [14:44] bad news

you [14:46] pls don't tell me it has anything to do with our ac

spiderboy [14:46] ...

spiderboy [14:46] ok i won't tell u

you [14:46] parker

spiderboy [14:47] yeah our ac is broken

spiderboy [14:47] can't get a repair guy in til tomorrow

spiderboy [14:47] also we're out of ice

you [14:48] FFS.

you [14:48] i'll get some ice but istg if theres only one bag and that snotty little toddler has it i'm throwing hands

spiderboy [14:48] sorry WHAT.

Grumbling to yourself the whole way, you grab some ice from the thankfully abundant collection in the freezer and get out of there in record time. The ride home is so suffocating that once you get home to your shared apartment you barely spare Peter a glance, tossing him the bag of ice and popsicles.

"Hey," you mutter, having to look away from the sight of him in his black tank top, showcasing his arms. The image of his biceps flexing as he catches the frozen products with his eyes closed - spider-senses obviously - just spurs you to walk even faster to your room.

"Where are you running off to?" he asks, frowning slightly as he gets up to put the stuff in the freezer before they melt in your ac-less apartment. "Come hang out, I'm bored."

Fanning yourself, you laugh at his childish tone. "I need to change out of these clothes. They're like a prison. I only wore them 'cause they made my ass look good this morning."

You see him take a peek at your ass as soon as you say this and you roll your eyes before shutting your bedroom door.

"That they do!" he yells through the door and you slap a hand to your mouth to stop the snorting laughter from being let out, knowing he'll hear the unattractive noise with his heightened senses.

It's times like this, you think as you strip down to only your panties (no way in hell are you wearing a bra in this weather), that you're grateful to be in the know about Peter's biggest secret. Having been his best friend since the early years of middle school, it was only expected he confided in you as soon as he was bitten.

Now you're both in college, he's still Spider-Man and you're still the ordinary human best friend that's hopelessly in love with him.

Yeah, that one may have been a recent revelation, but what can you do! You've always had a little crush on him, but having lived with him for the first two years of college, not only are you even more aware of how insanely attractive he's gotten, but due to his increase in one-night stands since school, you're also aware of your... feelings. Particularly jealousy.

The flirty nature of your friendship definitely does not help matters.

You ponder the fact you've both had dates and flings and the like since high school, strongly alluding to the idea you and Peter will never be a thing, with a sour face as you throw on the least amount of clothing you possibly can - fuck double standards! If men can parade around shirtless in the streets, then you can wear the same tank top and shorts you've had since high school damn it!

Emerging from your room feeling only slightly less like a melted stick of butter, you immediately catch Peter's eye and he chokes on the chilled water he was previously chugging down.

You furrow your brows as he gives you a once over so slowly that you almost regret the outfit choice. And then you remember it's the 21st century.

"Don't give me that look!" you scoff, pointing an accusing finger at him. "If you can wear a tank top without a bra then so can I!"

He swallows and clears his throat, asking you hoarsely, "You're not wearing a bra?"

You raise a brow and fold your arms.

"Is that an issue?"

He splutters and his gaze dips down to your chest for a split second. "No!" he yelps, looking away to stare determinedly at the TV screen. "And stop making me sound like a misogynist, you know I'm all for freeing the nips and all that."

You laugh at the very true statement as you walk over to the freezer, bending over to forage around for the cherry popsicles. Your mouth twitches as you hold back a smile when he goes silent.

"I can feel your eyes on my ass, Peter."

"Wh- I was not looking at your ass!" he insists, and when you turn around to throw him an accusing look - and one of his favorite cherry popsicles - you see that he's scowling. "I wasn't. I was just noticing your shorts."

"And my ass, but whatever," you sing-song under your breath. "What about my shorts?"

Collapsing on the couch right next to Peter, you prop your feet onto the coffee table, facing your roommate to prompt his answer. "Nothing, I just... Aren't they the same ones you would wear 4 years ago in gym class?"

"Precisely, my web-headed friend." Grinning at Peter's growing scowl at the nickname, you unwrap your popsicle, tasting the lip-numbing treat while he does the same. "God, I've been sleeping on these. They may just be as good as the lemonade."

"I think you mean better," says Peter, pointing the bright red stick of ice at you. Sticking your tongue out in response, you snatch his water bottle and it's your turn to scowl when he chuckles. "Your tongue is bright red."

"It's the latest look."

You lean back, pressing the water bottle to your neck and moaning at the cold, frosty relief. The plastic soon becomes warm from the heat of your skin, so you eventually just unscrew the lid and pour tiny amounts of water directly onto your skin.

"Oh my God, that feels so good." Peter shifts in his seat and you glance at him to see his jaw gone slack as he stares the water bottle like it's offending him. You feel heat crawling up your neck and it definitely is not due to the heatwave. "Stop looking at me like that!"

"I literally feel like I'm watching a porno and I don't know if I would rather be the water bottle or you."

His words make your stomach jolt, but you hide it with a scoff, chucking the water bottle at him. Peter may have been bitten by that radioactive spider years ago, but his ability to catch things without even looking still bugs you to this day - pun intended. "Since the other way around is physically impossible, unless your powers allow you to transform into inanimate objects, you can be me."

Shrugging, Peter finishes off his own popsicle and you shudder at the way he bites the ice so quickly. Your own popsicle is still completely intact.

Speaking of your own popsicle, you decide to bring your focus back to that and pointedly ignore his own moans of ecstasy at the chilled water dripping down his neck.

If the heatwave doesn't kill you, this definitely will.

Since the sensitivity of your teeth won't allow you to bite, the artificial red of the popsicle that's bright enough to rival the red of Peter's Spider-Man suit starts dripping down your hand. Too preoccupied with licking the melted juice before it ruins your couch, you barely register the pause in Peter's own ministrations with the water, instead his eyes focusing on the way your tongue pokes out to catch the sticky liquid.

You lick a long stripe up the popsicle and hear a faint groan coming from your best friend. Ceasing your own movements, you try not to blush.

One thing you've noticed in the last few months is that Peter hasn't had a single girl over. Not that you're complaining, but it's surprising since he once confided in you that not only were his senses heightened, but... other things too. Thus, you can't blame him for probably being turned on by you right now.

He never had the same girl over twice, though. You selfishly did not mind this at all. Not that it would make a difference, you think, shaking your head to rid yourself of any ideas and focusing on your slightly disappointing popsicle.

Sighing, you glare at the stick. "This was good for like two minutes, but I'm still hot."

Running his eyes over your body like he did when you first stepped out of your room, Peter cocks his head. "You wanna try something?"

"What?" you ask, narrowing your eyes in suspicion.

He rolls his eyes at your dramatics, plucking your popsicle out of your hand. "Trust me?"

"Well, you are my friendly neighborhood Spider-Man," you point out, pretending think about it.

"Exactly, now shut up and close your eyes."

Doing as he says, you wait in anticipation.

After a good five seconds, you're about to open your eyes and ask Peter what's taking so long when you suddenly feel the icy cold wetness of what you assume is your cherry popsicle, running across the top of your chest.

Gasping at the cool sensation, you don't even have time to properly react before Peter licks the liquid off your chest.

You can't hold back the shudder that contradicts the normal bodily reaction you should be having in the middle of a heatwave, partly due to the fact your best friend just licked you, and partly due to the fact his tongue is surprisingly cold - presumably from the popsicle.

"Oh," you gasp, eyes flying open when the popsicle travels to your neck. Despite knowing what's coming next, you sharply suck in a breath of air, your hand automatically threading into Peter's hair as he laps up the red juice, taking longer this time to bite and suck at a particular spot on your neck. He chuckles when you whimper for a second time, his warm breath scorching your skin. "I-I don't think this skin-to-skin contact is particularly effective. Especially when you run like a radiator even in winter."

"Want me to stop?" Peter mutters, his hand coming up to play with the waistband of your shorts and your brain starts fogging up. That doesn't stop you answering him though.

"Don't you dare," you practically growl and you can feel Peter's smirk against your neck. He pulls away and ignores your noises of protest, but instead of moving away completely, he runs the popsicle across your jaw and up to the side of your mouth.

Painfully slow, Peter licks the trail of liquid from the bottom of your jaw and stops right next to your lips, so close that you can feel his eyelashes tickling your cheekbone. "Peter, please," you moan, breathily, your hand sliding down his neck to grip at his bicep.

"Fuck," he groans under his breath and sits back in his seat, but not without pulling you up and over onto his lap, flush against his chest as he throws the popsicle onto the coffee table. Your lack of bra makes you even more sensitive and it doesn't help that you can feel how hard he is through your shorts.

Your whimper is immediately swallowed by his lips as he seals your mouth with his own, kissing you with enough intensity to literally set you on fire - as if the heatwave wasn't enough.

Peter tugs you closer as he kisses you until you're seated right on top of his clothed erection and then the worst happens. He grips at your hips and pushes his own upwards, making you gasp and he takes this as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

Continuing his assault on your lower lip as he nibbles and sucks until you're certain it's swollen, you grow more and more frustrated when he's stopped moving. You pull away for breath, feeling lightheaded.

"Why did you stop?" you whisper, still gripping the tops of his shoulders.

Grinning like a kid in a candy store, Peter slides his hands up your legs and annoyingly stops at the top of your inner thighs. "I want you to beg again."

You scoff. "Like hell am I going to beg ag- Holy shit," you whimper, falling forward when he rolls his hips again, just once before stopping. "Okay, please, Peter, please."

"Good girl," he mutters, looking up at you lazily through his eyelashes, but with an intense stare that looks like he wants to eat you. You moan at the nickname and his eyes light up at unlocking this new information before attaching his hands back to your hips and pressing your core against him yet again, until your legs feel like jelly.

"Uh-uh," Peter clicks his tongue, lifting you off of him before you can finish and laying you down on the couch. His hand slides under your tank top and up until it rests just below your breast. "You're not getting off that easily after parading around in those tiny, tiny clothes."

"Oh my God," you groan, arching up into his hand, embarrassingly turned on by him despite no proper physical contact. He leans over you and continues nibbling and sucking on your bottom lip, his tongue swiping over the swollen area every few seconds. "Peter, please."

"Please, what?" he teasingly asks, swiping his thumb across the underside of your breast, but keeping his hand there. "Use your words, princess."

Feeling like you're about to explode, or beat the shit out of your roommate, you tug on his hair in frustration making him groan and chuckle at the same time. The fucker knows exactly what he's doing to you. "Please... touch me already."

"Yes, ma'am." Peter presses his lips to yours again and moves his hand upwards, grabbing a fistful of your breast. You try to stifle your moan but it's impossible when he pinches your hardening nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. "Shirt, off. Now."

He tugs impatiently at the material and it's your turn to laugh at the scowl on his face. You pull the tank top up and over your head in one swoop and Peter doesn't hold back his groan, a tortured expression on his face. "Fuck, you're beautiful."

"Stop," you laugh nervously, shy all of a sudden as you try and hide your warming face.

"No, I mean it," he deadpans. The expression on his face is as serious as can be and he places his hands on either side of your face to make you look at him. "Forget giant lizards, you're the thing that's finally going to kill me."

"As much as I enjoy being compared to giant lizards, please pick up where we left off."

Peter doesn't need to be told twice. However, before he touches you he grabs the almost completely melted popsicle from the coffee table and grins mischievously as he takes a bite of the iced stick of juice. Throwing it back onto the table, Peter leans forward with the red block of ice between his teeth and runs it around your nipple.

"Shit," you gasp as the ice melts almost instantly, leaving only his tongue swirling around the hardened bud instead. At the same time, his hand moves down and fiddles with the waistband of your shorts. "Off, please, take them off."

Taking your direct commands as a sure sign, Peter tugs your shorts down, taking your panties with them. He swallows roughly and looks up at you, pupils blown wide. "You're so fucking pretty. I mean it when I say your pussy is going to be the death of me."

Growing more and more frustrated by Peters fingers wandering around your inner thighs, but not actually touching where you want him to, you frown at him. "You're a whole lot of talk, Parker. When are you actually going to- Oh, fuck."

"What was that?" Peter asks, his lips brushing against your ear as he finally runs a finger up and down your slit, your arousal making it easy. Your breathing gets quicker and when he slips a finger past your folds and you find your hips moving upwards trying to make his movements go faster. "No words, princess?"

Peter inserts a second finger, allowing you to adjust before adding a third and starting to pick up the pace as your moans and whimpers continue to escape you. His fingers get faster and faster, the palm of his hand in exactly the right spot against your clit which makes your eyes prick with tears as you continue to arch into him. "Such a good girl... You gonna cum for me, baby?"

His words spur your climax to approach even quicker and Peter can feel it coming when you start to tighten around his fingers so he speeds up his movements. The feeling that tugs at you in your lower stomach quickly escalates until it snaps, pushing you over the edge and you let out a cry of ecstasy.

It takes you a minute to calm down and you would believe Peter if he told you that you blacked out for a second. "That was- You were- Fuck. I need you now."

Peter curses lowly at your words as you tug off his tank top, revealing his built torso that you've helped him stich up and disinfect a countless number of times. You fumble at his grey sweatpants, trying to pull them down along with his boxers, but his hand stops you right at the waistband. "Wait, wait. Are you sure you wanna do this?"

If it weren't for the fact that you could see how painfully hard he was through his sweatpants, you would think he didn't want you. Trying not to smile at how sweet your best friend is, you quirk a brow. "I'm definitely sure. Are... are you sure?"

"Are you kidding?" he deadpans. "I've literally wanted to fuck you since puberty hit. And I've wanted to kiss you everyday of our lives since we were 11. Like, romantically."

"You- What?" you choke out the the words, shocked at the sudden confession and unable to hold back the smile this time. "Are you serious?"

"We could continue to discuss my embarrassingly obvious crush on you. Or, you could let me show you by finally letting me fuck your brains out before I literally explode."

"I vote option two, please."

"Smart girl," Peter grins, pressing one more searing kiss to your lips and nipping at your bottom lip before tugging off his sweatpants.

And shit, if he isn't the biggest you've ever had.

"You're going to break me," you moan, one hand gripping Peter's bicep and the other flat against his chest. If it wasn't for his super fast healing, you definitely would be leaving scratches. He smirks as he presses the tip of his cock at your entrance, coating himself in your arousal to ready you.

"That's the plan," he says, determined. And before you can say anything else he enters you, slowly filling you up. The short, breathless gasps that leave you combined with how tight you are causes Peter to groan and grip the side of the couch. You barely register the seat cushion ripping from his super strength, instead focusing on the way he starts moving inside you. "Jesus- fuck, you feel amazing."

His constant praise and his now powerful thrusts make literal tears form in your eyes, your arousal coming back even faster than before. You clamp a hand over your mouth to stop your screams, but Peter doesn't allow this and he removes it, leaning over to bury his face in your neck. "I wanna hear every sound coming out of that pretty little mouth of yours as I'm fucking you."

He emphasizes this statement with a particularly powerful thrust, bringing his hand up to circle your clit with his thumb and you can't help letting out a scream, the tears escaping your eyes as you start to babble nonsensical words. "Don't stop, please, please, please."

"Never," he assures you, panting as he continues thrusting into you faster, deeper and harder, your climax building at the same time as Peter's. "Shit, baby, you're gonna make me cum."

"Me too," you whimper, gripping his back to pull him impossibly closer to you as you let go, having to bite his shoulder to stifle your scream. "Peter, oh my God."

"Let go for me, princess," he murmurs, lips moving against your neck as you finish, his own thrusts starting to slow down and he shudders against you, the only sounds being both of you breathing heavily.

You stay like that for a moment, until Peter's body heat smothers you and you're wishing it was the middle of winter so you wouldn't feel relief when he gets up to shrug his sweatpants on. You watch him do so, unable to move and the sight of you makes him grin like an idiot. You roll your eyes, knowing exactly what he's thinking; he just gave you the best sex of your life, the little shit.

He leaves your clothes and his own vest discarded on the couch, lifting you up in his arms bridal style with ease and carrying you into his room. Once he sets you on the bed, he collapses down next to you.

"So, you've had an embarrassing crush on me since we were 11, let's talk about that," you say, using every ounce of strength within you not to burst out laughing.

Peter scowls, but his expression doesn't match the way his thumb is rubbing circles in the side of your hip where his hand rests. "I was thinking we could talk about the praise kink you so obviously displayed."

"Shut up," you scoff, but there's no malice in your tone because he's completely right. "If it makes you feel better, I've loved you for the same amount of time."

"I bet I loved you first," he protests softly, kissing your shoulder.

Great, now you're back to feeling like a melted stick of butter.

"Hm, I'll take that bet. What does the winner get?"

"The winner gets to take his girlfriend swinging across the city," he smirks, knowing he's got you there when you gasp in excitement. Peter is way too protective over you when it comes to his Spider-Man life and swinging across the city is a very rare occurrence.

"I lose, you loved me first, now take me swinging!"

"Yeah, let's wait til you can walk again first."

© earthgirl616 2022.

If your requests are still open, could you write a Kylo X Female Reader smut with inappropriate use of his lightsaber and just really rough, hot, and wild sex, with hair pulling, ass smacking, and then overstimulation from multiple orgasms? I just can't get over imagining Kylo fucking me senseless until I'm a wordless sweaty mess and cumming over and over and over again while sobbing and not being able to control cumming so much oh god help me I'm a mess for this man im so sorry ugh

I combined a bunch of these because they seemed to…fit together. I created a Frankenstein monster of a drabble. Its reallly long and its shameless fucking smut. I’ve spent the better part of my afternoon on it, I hope you like it!

BegRating: Explicit/NSFWCW: dubcon?, inappropriate use of  a lightsaber, nasty sex, shameless smut, name callingWord count: 2,865Prompt: You have dreams about the Supreme Leader, you didn’t realize he saw them.

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i have been obsessed with the idea of eddie calling reader "sweet thing" and being like, so soft with her

baby this is the one!! i hope this was a request cos i had things to say <3

"Hey, sweet thing." 

You know who it is before you turn around, attuned to the dulcet tone of Eddie Munson's flirting drawl. 

"Eddie," you greet, gifted with the sight of his lopsided grin, his messy dark hair as he ducks inside the club room. 

The zippers are open on the sleeves of his leather jacket, exposing small silvers of his arms, the very edge of his puppeteer tat. He shuts the door behind him before striding in, his scent awaft as he sits down in the chair beside yours. He should sit at the head of the table as Dungeon Master and his choice warms you from the inside out. 

"What are you doing?" he asks, rifling through his pockets. 

You let your pencil drop and sigh. "I've been trying to give my mage a cooler outfit but I'm hopeless with clothes." 

He peers over your hand at your character sheet and shakes his head, hair bouncing. "Are you kidding? It looks sick."

You smile at his compliment, bashful, and then heave a great sigh. "With where we left off last time, I'm not sure she'll survive anyway. Her clothes won't matter when Dorvan the Tasty spears her head clean off." 

"You're burying her before she's dead." 

"I'm hopeless with your game, Eds. I don't know why you keep letting me back." 

You slump in your seat, though you perk up a little as he sets one of your favourite candies in front of you from his pocket.

You've gone through as many characters as campaigns and have yet to learn which dice does what, each game a kerfuffle of asking your seatmates what you're doing every two minutes, not that any of them mind. They're all very accepting, besides Mike (who you've learned not to ask). 

"Hm," he says, rolling his shoulders, voice mockingly confused. "Now why would that be? What reason could I have for letting you come back…besides the obvious?" 

"The obvious?" You're almost afraid to ask. 

"Let's think." His voice is affectionate with a hint of theatrics. "For every question you ask, I get to hear your voice. For every die you roll, I either get to see your sulky pout or your eyes all creased with victory." 

He's edging closer, his voice decreasing in volume gradually. 

"The last game, when you rolled a nat20?" Eddie takes your forearm into his hands, thumbs rubbing lightly into your skin until you're shivering with goosebumps. "Your smile? Your little gasp?" 

He brings your hand to his mouth and kisses your fingers gently, watching you from under his lashes. "Sweetest thing I've ever seen," he says into your knuckles. 

"Eddie," you chasten, tugging your hand out of his grip. Not because he doesn't melt you into a puddle but because the rest of the club will be arriving in droves soon enough. 

Eddie only grins, more than aware of his effect on you. 

"And plus, I don't keep letting you," he says, standing up with a big groan that makes you crazy. 

He shrugs out of his jacket and drops it over the back of your chair, moving to the locked club cupboard for everything he might need in tonight's session. 

"You're a part of the club. Doesn't matter how bad you are at D&D. You keep showing up and you're eager to learn, the guys all adore you and I personally don't mind your company." 

You roll your eyes at him as you turn in your seat though you quickly forget to pretend you're anything but enamoured with him when his scent reaches you again, strong, the jacket he'd discarded fragrant under your nose. You give it a secret sniff and your eyes close ever so slightly, comforted by his familiar scent. Green apple buried beneath a heavy cologne. 

He's on you before you realise, one hand holding the dice box to his chest and the other stroking back your hairline. You look up at him guiltily. 

"Whatcha doing?" he asks, brows raised, mouth turned up smugly. 

"You smell good," you defend yourself, cheeks hot. 

"Yeah?" he asks. His lips part, the tip of his pink tongue appearing as he wets his lips. 

"Yeah." 

He bends at the waist. The chain around his neck hangs between you. "I taste even better." 

You giggle at him and jut your chin up, eyes slipping shut as he presses a firm, hot kiss to your waiting lips. You can feel his breath as it fans over your cupid's bow. He tilts his head to the left and you take right, noses brushing as he parts his lips to invite you in. 

When he pulls away you're dizzy with warmth, lips tingling, always so surprised by the effect even his brief kisses have on you. 

"Whadya know," Eddie says fondly, the back of his hand gracing your burning cheek. "You taste best of all, sweet thing." 

𝐀𝐒 𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐀𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐘 ⋅𖥔⋅ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄.

—pairings: eddie munson x sunshine!female!reader

—summary: after meeting y/n, eddie feels he needs to protect her.

—warnings: mutual pining, eddie being a terrified mess but also a pining idiot for 2.8k words because there’s nothing softer.

—word count: 2.8k

—additional notes: posting this before i go to work so i hope whoever reads enjoys, comments and reblogs always appreciated </33

Eddie had already been terrified enough, hiding from everyone in an attempt to escape from inevitable arrest, if they found a girl in his school year dead in his trailer, he was sure he would be the first suspect. But the fear he felt only heightened when he heard the rustle of car wheels break outside the house he was resided in.

So, when he moved to lay underneath the tarp in the boathouse, he tried to control his shaking upon the door creaking open with uninvited voices joining the party. He held his breath, refusing to utter a sound in fear of being caught.

However, he inhales a sharp breath when the end of the tarp starts getting poked, two voices bickering from outside and Eddie clutches his makeshift weaponised bottle closer to his chest as he awaits to attack in hopes he could escape, unsure of where he would even go next.

The rustling stopped, and he lets his mind focus for a moment while the voices continue across the small room. Deciding that while they’re distracted, he’ll attack and then make a run for it, Eddie whips the tarp off and aims for the first person he can see.

Streams of screaming enters the room as he pushes the frame against the boathouse wall, holding the cracked bottle up to his neck while he fights against his grip. He can hear his name being shouted, feeling like far away in the distance, but as it continues on through his deep breathing, he turns when it suddenly starts to sound familiar.

“It’s me. It’s Dustin. This is Steve. He’s not gonna hurt you, right, Steve?” he glances back to Steve in front, but by how frightened Eddie was, he doesn’t loosen his grip on the man’s shoulder or of his bottle, even when he whispers back, “right, yeah.”

Steve’s told to drop the oar and Eddie hears the battering from beside him, causing him to jump while pressing the bottle further against Steve’s skin, threatening to penetrate it. His breath is ragged and rushed as he listens to Dustin continue to use assurance against him while Steve’s whispering, “I’m cool, man. I’m cool.”

“What are you doing here?” he finally asks, “we’re looking for you,” responds Dustin. “We’re here to help you,” his threatened yet feared expression drops at the unfamiliar voice, head turning back to face the group, only to now see the figures behind Dustin.

Max, who he knew as his neighbour, Robin, who he was also acquainted to, and quite possibly the most beautiful person he had ever seen beside her. Her voice was soft, far more assuring than Dustin’s and calmed Eddie’s nerves all the while looking at her indulgent gaze, a feeling of non-judgement and tenderness packed into one.

His breathing was heavy, yet he was sure Steve could hear it steady as Dustin begins to introduce them, “Eddie, these are my friends. You know Robin, from band.” He feels more relaxed when Dustin points to her, while she makes a weak attempt of imitating a trumpet.

“This is Max. The one who never wants to play D&D,” and she sends a small wave in return, “… and who’s that?” Eddie asks without a beat, nodding towards the girl on the end who smiles at him softly, even when his tone sounded harsh, “this is Y/n. I’ve told you about her before.”

Right. The sunshine and rainbow girl, Eddie thinks, remembering how Dustin and Mike would always refer to her as. His eyes lightly scan down her frame, a dress adorning her and almost making him instantly dizzy as he loses focus.

“Eddie.” His eyes abruptly snap back to Dustin upon his voice, “we’re on your side.” He realises he still has a grip against Steve and listens as the group all begin to swear on Dustin’s mother, the voices around him overwhelming him as he hesitantly moves away from Steve, his grip faltering as he walks to the side to slide down the wall.

Flashbacks of Chrissy’s death continue to haunt Eddie’s mind, what was supposed to be a minor and confidential drug deal with the cheerleader in his year, turned into quite possibly the worst moment of his life. He didn’t do anything and has no idea what happened but the images from back at the trailer continue to appear and cause tears to well up in his eyes, as they have been ever since he has went in hiding.

His hands were shaking atop his lap as he rests against the wall, hardly noticing Dustin’s crouch until he felt his hand near the bottle in his grip, pulling it away from him. He shakes his head at Dustin’s continued assurance, knowing if he told them what he saw, they would bid him crazy.

“We want to know what happened,” he closes his eyes upon Robin’s words, allowing the tears to escape and float down his cheeks and as he sniffles before turning back to the group, “you won’t believe me.” Everyone is around him, Steve sitting over the side as he holds his neck, but Eddie quickly shifts his glance back to Y/n, the way she looked at him, comforting and with assurance, only caused him to do so, allowing them to hear about everything.

From that moment on, Eddie grew not only a liking to Y/n but a flourishing fondness for her whenever the group were present to help him. Dustin and Mike were right, she was all sunshine and the immense fear he felt living in that house himself as a wanted man would vanish into thin air the second they arrived, Y/n sporting her wide and kind smile.

The moment there was sudden noise from out-with the boathouse, Eddie would try to rush them into leaving, hand reaching for Y/n’s arm to move her away anxiously while a guilty wave washes over his frame from dragging them into this.

Eddie thought he must’ve looked crazy, flinching at any noise that weren’t within the group, wide-eyed and forcing as much food and drink down his throat whenever they brought more over. There couldn’t have been a worse time for Y/n to meet him, an innocent man terrified while on the run from being framed with murder.

But she never showed judgement. Y/n was always smiling at him, whenever he would get too anxious, her hand would fall atop his to gently bring him back down, offering to always talk when he needed. And when he would watch them leave, walking back to Steve’s car down the path, Eddie would yearn for her until they return.

However, it didn’t take long until they were together almost all the time. Just not in a way Eddie would want. When he thought his situation couldn’t get more complicated and anxiety-building, Jason and his group found him which led him escaping to Skull Rock where he awaited his friend's return.

Which directed them to devising a plan, and suddenly he was taking Y/n’s hand to help her steadily step upon the boat's wooden panels as they collectively search for the open gate. Once they were down the lake, Eddie tears his glance from the children by the ground afar and toward the large open lake, wondering how and why he got into the position he was in at that moment, while they await Steve’s return from searching underwater.

Eddie’s focus diminishes for a moment too long, eyes flickering to follow the white glittering water rippling across from the reflection of the moon above, yet his mind far from in front of him. But before it can get too distant, before he finds himself backtracking too long and sending himself into a spiral, a hand lands on his knee.

He tenses beneath the touch, head refusing to move in acknowledgement but his eyes glancing in wonder from the water and to his jeans, and nearly falls back off the boat and into the water when Y/n’s breath grazes his cheek, whispering into his ear, “hey, don’t stray too far from us.”

“Hm?” Eddie murmurs, nudging his head to the side and close to Y/n. She giggles lowly, trying to keep quiet but Eddie notices Robin’s glance their way before smirking knowingly at Nancy, her knee bouncing anxiously as Nancy gazes at her watch.

“You looked like you were far away in thought.”

“Oh, yeah,” he drags out the ‘yeah’ with a deep rasp, “I mean, just thinking about how selling a cheerleader some weed leads me to running away from cops and also my own sanity as well as hearing about this real-life d and d shit. Does stuff to a guy, you know?”.

Y/n nods, Eddie watching her expression as she does so, flitting from the little hairs against her forehead straying from the wind and down to her lips which tug upwards in a soft, kind smile. Eddie really wanted to kiss her. And with the way this was going down, he might take a chance, given the life-threatening ordeal he was dealing with.

How could someone so innocent and full of optimism and sunshine be involved with this entire upside-down world, fighting off monsters alongside Steve Harrington and Dustin through these years he sat idly caring about Dungeons and Dragons.

To Eddie, Y/n was an extraordinary person, a masterpiece to the eyes, her personality and forgiven nature a saint in disguise. Not even the sun was as bright to Eddie, not as soon as she stepped through that door, beside her friends to protect him.

But he wanted to protect her, it should be the other way around, right?

Eddie was the metal head, and Y/n was the angel. That’s how it works.

And a nasty, gut feeling settles across Eddie’s stomach as he realises their situation. Wanting to protect her, and here they were, apparently above a gate to this other dimension where God-knows what is controlled by the master puppet, Vecna. And she sat beside him in that very boat crossing the lake.

“I can imagine,” Y/n’s words snapped Eddie from his minds attempt to escape once again, and he furrows his brows from nearly forgetting what they were talking about. “Say, could you— I mean obviously once we’re all out of this Vecna thing— which I hope is soon—” Eddie’s lips quirk into a smirk as he leans his head down to Y/n’s level, elbow nudging hers teasingly, “spit it out, buttercup. We don’t have long, you know?”.

Y/n chuckles quickly at his teasing words, “could you teach me Dungeons and Dragons? I mean only if you’d like to, of course! Lucas said he’d teach me, but I get the feeling Eddie Munson would be a greater teacher at it.”

Eddie could have died happily over-the-moon at that moment. Forget the Vecna shit, the gates and running from the law. Fuck all of that when the girl he already adores, eyes prettily looking at his own, is asking him to teach her his game.

He nearly, just nearly, lets his mind wander once again, wanting to picture Y/n in a Hellfire shirt from the second she had asked the question.

How could Eddie say no? In what world did she think he would?

“Give me your size and you’ll have the Hellfire shirt in the snap of a finger, sunshine,” Eddie watches as Y/n’s body language visibly flusters, eyes snapping from his and to her lap, trying to contain her smile as lines arch across the corner of her lips, shifting in her spot with excited glee.

Robin tears her watch from the pining pair and towards Nancy, speaking through her scared sigh, “where we at, Wheeler?”. Nancy glances back up at their friend after checking her watch, Eddie and Y/n dropping their conversation to focus, “closing in on a minute.”

“Okay.”

They all go silent, awaiting the return of Steve anxiously and Eddie leans his lower back against the boat while they all watch the water, his arm dropping to rest behind Y/n. But before Eddie can get too comfortable, a sudden burst of noise causes them all to flinch as Steve jumps from the water.

“Oh, Christ!” Eddie’s the only one to yell as the rest exclaim in fright, Y/n holding her chest while they all catch their breath. Listening to Steve explain what he saw, the snack-sized gate hidden at the bottom of the lake.

However, before much more can be discussed, Steve’s pulled under, only shortly as his hands that grip the edge of the boat pull him back up. “Steve…” Y/n eerily trails off, everyone confused and looking around.

“Yeah?”

“Get back on the boat.”

 “Yeah, good call.”

Steve starts to lift his body out of the water, hand reaching for Y/n’s extended one but just as they graze, he’s submerged within the water again. His whole body being brought below in one firm pull, and he’s suddenly nowhere in sight.

This time they all scream, Steve’s name flown into the late-night empty air as they all lean over the boat to frantically search for any sign of him. Yet, while a glittery glint crosses the water, the lake is pitch black beneath, unable to get proper sight of anything unless underwater yourself.

“We have to go in!” Y/n exclaims between all their shouting, Eddie body jerking atop the boat frantically as his eyebrows furrow, “what do you mean ‘we have to go in’? Like hell are we going in.” Eddie’s hand wraps around Y/n’s upper arm, pulling her back when she stands up, both girls shouting towards Nancy who towers her body above the water.

Before they knew it, Nancy was jumping under the water, leaving with a quick ‘just wait here’. And Eddie is suddenly yelling again as they watch the next person dive beneath the water.

“Y/n, for the love of Christ, will you sit down? you’re freaking me the fuck out!” Eddie’s grip tugs Y/n who’s still standing on the rocking boat. Y/n refuses to budge, mind reeling as she debates following swiftly behind Nancy, but before she can decide, Eddie’s loud voice booms once more, “Robin, no, no, no, no!”.

Y/n looks to her side where Robin perches against the edge, testing Eddie’s patience as she falls backwards into the open water to follow Nancy towards the other gate, nodding to Y/n before she leaned back.

This time Eddie’s grip tightens against Y/n’s arm and he fears he may bruise her, but he refuses to let go in fear she’ll not only put herself in danger but leave him alone. It’s protective. The way Eddie tries to keep only her by his side and above the water, but if Y/n falls beneath the sheet of water, Eddie knows he will immediately be following behind.

“Eddie,” Y/n’s voice cuts in, Eddie already knowing what she’s going to say with a fast, ‘no’ following. “Let go of me,” but Eddie pulls her towards him in an attempt to sit her down, but her legs only shift back, refusing to bend down, and she nearly falls off the boat. Eddie freaks out, hand leaving her bicep to rest against her back so she doesn’t topple over and he puffs out shaky breaths as they go silent.

“Don’t leave me alone, can’t let you go down there,” Eddie ushers, desperate and scared, voice rushed and unhappy. “They’re my friends, I’m sorry,” Y/n looks behind her, locking eyes with Eddie’s dark pupils, begging her to stick to his side.

Ever the actress, Eddie watches as her eyes glance to behind him, widening in fear as she gasps, “Dustin! What are you doing here?”. Eddie’s quick to react, turning to the open water behind him as he believes he’ll catch his younger friend swimming towards the boat, only to be met with a blank view.

Eddie’s eyes close in pent up anger as he hears a splash, not having to see to know Y/n’s tricked him into letting her go. Causing Eddie to shout, loud and clear into the night as he stands from his spot, facing the way Y/n left.

“Goddamn it, lying son of a… bitch!”

Why did he like someone so caring and ready to put herself in danger for others, willing to lie right to his face in order to escape his grip? Why did he like Y/n when he knew the second any danger arises, he was now more-than-willing to fall headfirst in attempts to protect her?

But that’s exactly why he did like her, Eddie’s mind reeling in increasing fear as the seconds pass too quickly in his head, muttering ‘this is so stupid’ repeatedly as he grips the boat while tumbling over. Headfirst into the life-threatening scenario.

Oh, yes. Eddie thought, he was definitely going to kiss her the second he crossed this gate. As he swam down the water behind Y/n’s disappearing frame, it was as clear as day to him.

⤸

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