Latest Posts by lookedlikeanamericansinger - Page 7

🥺 so beautiful

it feels good (to know you’re mine)

synopsis: disheartened by the night he’s had, peter attempts to shift focus on what matters to him most.

pairing: tasm!peter parker x reader

author’s notes: nsfw! the biblical allusions & allegories are heavy here. idk what came over me. brought to u by needy desperate angsty sentimental peter!!!!! the best peter :_)

He’s rocking into you with a tender pace—it’s the sort of night where things could have gone egregiously wrong, but somehow, he had pulled through. And when he crawls home to you, face caked with blood dried from the frostbitten air he had swung through not moments ago, he needs nothing more than to dissipate into the soft crux of your arms, and to feel that you’re there.

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que hermosa idea 💘 el amor q le tengo a este au 😩😩😩

TEXTS BETWEEN HARRY AND Y/N OVER THE YEARS

HARRY'S MASTERLIST | SINCE FOREVER UNIVERSE

FETUS HARRY AND Y/N: fluff, suggestive themes. (2009/2010)

FRATBOY HARRY AND Y/N: fluff, angsty, sexual themes. (2012/2013)

this one. this one is THE ONE.

quiet my fears with the touch of your hand

summary: taking care of peter's wounds always ends the same way. [andrew gardfield's spiderman x reader]

warnings: mutual masturbation (handjob and fingering), slight cum play? (technically also spit? idk if it counts)

18+ ONLY || MINORS DON'T INTERACT OR I'LL BLOCK YOU

word count: 1.3k

a/n: I'M OBSESSED WITH ANDREW'S PETER PARKER AND WHAT ABOUT IT?? this came to me after i watched that scene in the first tasm movie lol. in this, you and peter are in university (around 22 years old, let’s pretend people in their 20s care about nerds and bullys). also, there's no nwh spoilers in this, so everyone can read it.

“You’re an idiot,” you scold, tenderly cleaning the small cut on his chin from his fight with Flash.

Peter hisses when the alcohol seeps into the wound, almost throwing his head back against the mirror in pain but your grip on his jaw keeps him in place.

“Mmm, actually, I’m pretty smart,” he says, settling his hands on your waist and pulling you between his legs. “Top of the class, even.”

You roll your eyes, dumping the cotton on the sink and opening up a bandaid. “Not street smart enough, apparently,” you quip back, a small smirk on your lips, then drop it back to a frown. You put the bandaid on and cup his face. “Honestly, what were you thinking?”

“That Flash needed to be humbled a little. You know,” he shrugs, “show him not all nerds won’t fight back.” At your blank look, he grabs your face and squishes your cheeks. “C’mon, don’t look at me like that,” he pouts, cocking his head to the side.

“It’s a stupid reason,” you say.

“Mhm,” he hums.

“He broke your camera,” he hums again, shrugging one shoulder disinterestedly. He can fix it himself later. “You know I worry about you,” you continue. Peter hums once more, this time fighting back a smile. What can he say? He likes to know you care about him. “And you’re hurt.”

“Mhm, I am. Will you kiss it better?”

You huff out an irritated breath. Peter laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’re unbelievable,” you shake your head.

“You’re my nurse!” he chuckles, tilting your head back so you can look him in the eye. Childishly, he says, “Won’t you please make my booboo better?”

You try to pull away but he holds on to your face, shaking his head. “No, no, come here,” and he leans down to kiss you. Out of sheer stubbornness, you continue to struggle, but soon enough your body melts into his. You sag against him, one of your hands resting on his leg as leverage while the other goes to the back of his head and pulls on his hair.

He groans into your mouth, leaving the kiss in favour of trailing his lips down your neck. You sigh in pleasure, his sloppy pecks and nibbles making your tummy flutter nicely, a warmth seeping into your core that makes you a little fuzzy.

Your hand on his leg moves up slowly, teasingly. You reach his crotch at the same time his hand sneaks underneath your skirt, barely skirting your underwear, but it’s enough for you to whine desperately.

“Will you make it better, baby?” Peter mumbles into your skin, his hot breath making you shiver. You palm him through his jeans, feeling him harden with your simple touch. With shaky hands, you unbuckle his belt, your knees almost buckling when Peter rubs your clit through your panties. He smirks against your neck when the fabric gets wetter.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, running your nails over his stomach. His muscles flex, a low moan coming out of Peter’s mouth.

“Don’t tease,” he groans.

“You’re teasing me, too,” you chuckle, kissing his jaw and nipping it. You unzip his jeans, sneaking your fingers under the band of his boxers and running the soft pads of your fingers along his cock. Peter twitches at your delicate caress; desperate for more.

With an impatient huff, Peter moves your underwear to the side and runs his fingers between your glistening folds, coating them in your arousal, then slowly pushing two of them inside you. Your breath hitches at the slight burn, his fingers stretching you as he thrusts them. You rest your forehead against his, biting your lip to prevent the whine that threatens to leave your mouth from coming out.

Peter raises his hips to help you pull down his underwear, his cock finally springing free of its confines and hitting his stomach. “Shit,” he curses when you grab him. “Gimme your hand.”

You do as he says, looking through hooded eyes as he brings it closer to his mouth and runs his tongue all over it. It’s a lewd sight, your boyfriend covering your hand with his spit while he fingers you, but it’s so hot that you can’t help but moan. Loudly.

He gives you a nod and you grab his cock again, pumping him slowly and thumbing the slit whenever you reach the tip. He moans and throws his head back, the mirror rattling from the impact, but neither of you cares too much.

You gasp when Peter curls his fingers, pushing them to his knuckles and feeling a new wave of slick coating them. You grab the back of his neck with a shuddering moan, tightening your grip around his cock.

“So good, baby, you’re so good,” he moans, tilting down his head and bumping your jaw with his nose. He kisses underneath it, going up to your chin before kissing your lips deeply, drinking in all the pretty sounds you make for him.

Your pussy flutters around his fingers, your body eagerly receiving his praise. “I’m close,” you whimper into his mouth. He can tell, you’re practically squeezing the life out of his fingers, your pussy clinging to them and trying to keep them snug inside you.

Peter pulls your lower lip between his teeth, his thumb now rubbing circles on your clit. You’re so wet for him it’s slippery, but the effect he has on you drives him mad. “I know, baby, I know,” he coos hoarsely, his ears ringing with the wet sounds your pussy makes. “But hold it for me, yeah? I want to cum with you.”

You nod shakily, focusing on bringing Peter to the edge. You mimic the pace he fucks you with, biting and kissing along his neck, letting your other hand explore his torso under his t-shirt.

Peter takes hold of the roots of your hair, pulling you away from him. “Look at me,” he groans. Your lips are parted as you gaze at him, scanning your eyes over the purple bruise on his cheek and the cut on his chin, before finding a home in Peter’s chocolate ones. “You can let go, c’mon. Y’can do it, give it to me, baby.”

You come undone together– Peter twitching in your hand and covering it in white spurts with a beautiful whimper, and you falling against Peter, your legs shaking as you moan brokenly. He holds you tightly, the hand on your back coaxing you while he helps you ride your orgasm out.

You hide your face in his chest as you catch your breath, Peter tucking his head in the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply. He takes in your perfume– the hints of jasmine filling his nostrils and making him relax even more, the previous tension in his shoulders evaporating completely.

With slow and gentle movements, he pulls out his fingers, shushing you when you whine. He taps your wrist and leans completely against the mirror, keeping you from slumping down with a tight grip on your hip.

Already knowing what he wants, you bring your hand up to his mouth, Peter doing the same with his. He pokes his tongue out and licks your fingers, cleaning up the mess he made. He makes sure there’s no residue left behind, looking into your eyes as he runs his tongue over the back of your hand, grinning at the slight blush on your face.

“Your turn,” he says once he’s done, tapping his still wet fingers on your lips. You take them into your mouth and suck on them, running the flat of your tongue under the pads of his index and middle fingers with a content hum, your eyes falling shut as you clean him.

Even when there’s no more cum to clean up, you keep sucking on them, holding on to his wrist like a lifeline. Peter cups the back of your head and kisses your forehead, mumbling a “good girl” and tucking you under his chin.

SO HOT

Love Queen | Eros {Starfox}

Pairing: Eros/Eternal!Reader

Words: 5,866

Warnings: (+18), Eternals Spoilers, Smut, Fluff, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Light Breeding Kink, Unprotected Sex, Kinda Soulmate AU too.

Summary: She is literally the goddess of love and procreation, used to to all kinds of adulation and adoration towards her, so why this strange feeling when she has just met this Eternal stranger?

Y/N could feel it as soon as the small creature began to speak, and a shiver ran down her spine as she watched him go through the halo of rainbow light. His tall figure draped across the darkness of the spaceship as Y/N came to be unable to hear his presentation and her eyes gazed at the new and imposing body finally appearing in the light. She could feel her pulse soar and her heart trot in her chest as she watched him walk confidently and cockily towards them.

In her mind, she reprimanded herself for not understanding this peculiar reaction she discovered for the first time, an almost burning sensation in her chest as she confusedly kept looking at him from behind Thena and Makkari.

“What a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my fellow Eternals,” was the first thing she heard coming out of his mouth. His husky, slow voice made her swallow saliva and made her look down, almost feeling intimidated, but how was that possible. She had never felt intimidated by anyone, least of all by a man.

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Y YO A VOS

holaaa, cómo estás uma?

primero quería decirte que me encanta lo que escribís, me fascina 🥺 sos una genia

me alegra tanto haber encontrado tu cuenta en tumblr

y segundo, quería hacerte una request (no sé cómo decirlo en español jsjdja) todo bien si no lo haces, no hay compromiso 💘

no se si alguna vez viste la foto de harry en el video de you & i, ESA foto, en la que se está cagando de frío porque está enfermo pobrecito y lo hacían grabar igual 😭

mi pregunta es, cómo reaccionaría sf!y/n a esta situación? lo cuidaría? se enojaría con el management por hacerlo grabar el videoclip? no se, lo dejo en tus manos ahre

te mando un beso grande hermosa 💘 seguí escribiendo como lo haces, amo tu blog

(don't worry, I'll translate everything!)

holaaa!!!! gracias por tus palabras, yo también amo encontrarme gente que hable nuestro idioma, me hace pensar en lo chiquito que es el mundo <3 te quiero un montonazo gracias por todo tu amor!!! 💘

"i don't know if you ever saw the picture of harry in the you & i video, THAT picture, where he's freezing to death because he's sick, poor thing, and they made him record it anyway 😭.

my question is, how would sf!y/n react to this situation? would she look after him? would she get mad at the management for making him film the video clip? i don't know, i leave it up to you ahre."

HARRY'S MASTERLIST | SINCE FOREVER UNIVERSE

━━━━━━━

She would be SO angry, but she has to be calm looking after Harry.

"Baby..." Harry murmurs, his voice hoarse as he tries to snuggle even closer to her side.

"I know, H, I know." She strokes his hair that doesn't seem to stop growing, and pulls the jacket tighter against him.

"I feel so bad."

She can't bear to see him like this, and even when she's freezing to death, she can't imagine how bad he is.

"You have to record your part, Harry, c'mon." Ben Winston shows up and interrupts the couple, you can tell he feels guilty, but Y/N is furious.

"No, Ben, I'm sorry, Harry can't record, he feels like shit." She says and as her boyfriend is about to get up from the bench to continue recording, she grabs his hand. "He won't."

Harry turns and looks at her, silently thanking her, but he knows there's no other choice, he had to record, or there would be consequences.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, you know that, but today's the only day we have the dock available, it's now, or never." Ben shrugs.

"Then never, I don't care, I won't stand to see him suffer like this any longer."

Styles sits down next to her again, and grabs her waist, pulling her into his body. "Darling, I'll make it quick, and I promise to come back to your side." His completely congested voice hurts her heart.

Y/N stays silent, she knows there really is no other choice. "Please do it quickly."

She reaches over and gives him a peck, not even caring that people can see them, or that she might catch his flu.

Harry leaves her side, and goes to record his part next to Winston.

She only wishes that someday he could be truly free and never have to experience this again.

GRACIAS POR TANTO UMA

holaaa, cómo estás uma?

primero quería decirte que me encanta lo que escribís, me fascina 🥺 sos una genia

me alegra tanto haber encontrado tu cuenta en tumblr

y segundo, quería hacerte una request (no sé cómo decirlo en español jsjdja) todo bien si no lo haces, no hay compromiso 💘

no se si alguna vez viste la foto de harry en el video de you & i, ESA foto, en la que se está cagando de frío porque está enfermo pobrecito y lo hacían grabar igual 😭

mi pregunta es, cómo reaccionaría sf!y/n a esta situación? lo cuidaría? se enojaría con el management por hacerlo grabar el videoclip? no se, lo dejo en tus manos ahre

te mando un beso grande hermosa 💘 seguí escribiendo como lo haces, amo tu blog

(don't worry, I'll translate everything!)

holaaa!!!! gracias por tus palabras, yo también amo encontrarme gente que hable nuestro idioma, me hace pensar en lo chiquito que es el mundo <3 te quiero un montonazo gracias por todo tu amor!!! 💘

"i don't know if you ever saw the picture of harry in the you & i video, THAT picture, where he's freezing to death because he's sick, poor thing, and they made him record it anyway 😭.

my question is, how would sf!y/n react to this situation? would she look after him? would she get mad at the management for making him film the video clip? i don't know, i leave it up to you ahre."

HARRY'S MASTERLIST | SINCE FOREVER UNIVERSE

━━━━━━━

She would be SO angry, but she has to be calm looking after Harry.

"Baby..." Harry murmurs, his voice hoarse as he tries to snuggle even closer to her side.

"I know, H, I know." She strokes his hair that doesn't seem to stop growing, and pulls the jacket tighter against him.

"I feel so bad."

She can't bear to see him like this, and even when she's freezing to death, she can't imagine how bad he is.

"You have to record your part, Harry, c'mon." Ben Winston shows up and interrupts the couple, you can tell he feels guilty, but Y/N is furious.

"No, Ben, I'm sorry, Harry can't record, he feels like shit." She says and as her boyfriend is about to get up from the bench to continue recording, she grabs his hand. "He won't."

Harry turns and looks at her, silently thanking her, but he knows there's no other choice, he had to record, or there would be consequences.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, you know that, but today's the only day we have the dock available, it's now, or never." Ben shrugs.

"Then never, I don't care, I won't stand to see him suffer like this any longer."

Styles sits down next to her again, and grabs her waist, pulling her into his body. "Darling, I'll make it quick, and I promise to come back to your side." His completely congested voice hurts her heart.

Y/N stays silent, she knows there really is no other choice. "Please do it quickly."

She reaches over and gives him a peck, not even caring that people can see them, or that she might catch his flu.

Harry leaves her side, and goes to record his part next to Winston.

She only wishes that someday he could be truly free and never have to experience this again.

I’ll Crawl Home to Her

After a long day, all Peter wants is a bit of love and someone to take care of him.

PAIRING: TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT: 3k

CONTENT: they’re 18+, fluff, nsfw, oral (m), light sub/dom, soft smut, mentions of violence, injuries + blood, thigh riding, cleaning wounds, bit of plot (?)

NOTES: inspired after the scene where Peter goes to Gwen’s place. And I should have proof read this more but I really wanted to get this out asap!

The tapping sound was faint, almost inaudible and would have been mistaken for tree branches rattling together or the traffic lights swaying in the breeze had it not been insistent. It began from the base of the window by her bed, becoming increasingly louder, slicing through the night.

The latches popped open, the window being pushed open with a hand restricted from view as a thudding sound echoed throughout the room.

The action would have been concerning for anyone but her.

Instead, she rolled out of bed, rubbed the sleep from her eyes and shuffled closer to the window. She kicked over the black bag that was tossed to the ground before looking out.

“Sorry,” Peter rasped, smiling weakly as his mouth hung open. “Wasn’t trying to be that loud.”

Peter crouched on the fire escape that wrapped around the apartment building. The soft moonlight caressed his face, hidden and shining through his hair along with the nearby multicoloured lights that reflected off the nearby bulletin boards.

There was a monochromatic beauty of the moon that the sun could never offer: the return of Peter.

“Oh, Pete,” she sighed, worried that he was maskless. Her focus latched onto the blood coating the side of his face, matting his hair to his head and the gashes and tears through his suit.

“Been a long night,” he tried to joke, shifting and climbing through the window.

She wrapped her hands around him when he came in, limping and nearly falling over. She observed him, searching for any other injuries as Peter leaned into her touch.

Peter always did this, refused to go to the hospital in fear of revealing identity. She saw what the world didn’t get to. They saw Spider-man, an invincible being, undoubtedly brave with superhuman strength and intelligence. But she saw Peter Parker: a boy battered and bruised, soft and shy — limbs pliable as clay every night.

It was a privilege knowing Peter, one that was filled with the purest of love and devotion but frightening, darkened by the fear that he may meet his match one day.

No matter how many times he managed to find his way back to her like this, it never failed to bring an overwhelming terror to wash over her, having to stifle the onslaught of tears.

“Hey, hey,” he cooed. “It’s not that bad. I’m fine. You know I heal unnaturally fast.”

She bit her cheek, nodded stiffly and led Peter into the bathroom to run a bath.

As softly as possible, she tried to peel his suit off him and lowered him in the tub. He hissed and grunted, pain etched into his face as the sensitive wounds met the warm water.

She knelt on the cold tiles, bending over the bath, wiping away the blood with wet cloths, washing away the dirt, blood and grim as Peter tried to prevent soap from entering the open wounds. He hissed through clenched several times as she lifted the alcohol-soaked rag to the cuts.

Thankfully, Peter eventually relaxed. A continuous murmur of ‘thank you’s’ left his lips was mixed in with the running tap. His head rested against the cool titles and raised white ridge of the bath as he watched her with a soft glance.

“You’re the best,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching up until noticing her expression.

Her mouth hadn’t shifted from the fine line it had set itself when she first saw his condition.

She doesn’t ask what happened, she rarely does these days, but it doesn’t stop the worry that ate away at her. And by the look of these wounds, there was no doubt he had been in a grave situation.

“Stop it,” he tried, hoping to halt her movements. “Hey — Woah — easy there.”

His hand, wet with soapy water lifted to cup her cheek and forced her to hold his gaze. “I’m fine. I’m here.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, forcing on a little smile while soaking in his touch. “I’m just… I’m always so worried.”

There was something unreadable that crossed Peter.

“I know, and I’m sorry.”

She shook her head, kissed the tip of his nose and got up, albeit with a whine of protest from Peter, leaving to reach for the mirror cabinet to grab the first aid kit. “You never have to apologize for quite literally saving New York.”

There was a slight chuckle, followed by the splashing of water that had her whipping her head.

“Woah!” She exclaimed, rushing up to Peter who had stood by himself, grabbing his robe with wobbly legs. “Easy there, bug boy. No responsibilities for you tonight. Let me take care of you.”

Guiding him back to their bed, Peter winced as he lowered himself down, sinking into the fluffy bedding and pillows, drowning in his robe but managed to keep one hand on her thigh.

Dabbing on antibiotic ointments before applying little bandaids on top of cuts, she was acutely aware of Peter’s unwillingness to let her go, not even for a moment.

“Mm,” he said, a bit distressed as the antibiotics stung him. “You’re wearing my shirt.”

“Was missing you. Makes me feel like you’re close to me.”

She continued to work in silence, smiling every once in a while and Peter’s soft gaze never left her face.

“Penny for your thoughts, Spidey?”

“Don’t mind me, just enjoying the view.”

He found purchase on her hips and waist, tugging her close. His grip was a little too hard, but her heart bubbled with a sense of fondness. He always underestimated and forgot his strength and capabilities when he got overwhelmed.

She placed a kiss on top of the last bandaid placed. His skin was littered with scars; some old, some new, some still a deep red, some healed. But it didn’t make him any less beautiful or worthy. Gently hooking a finger under his chin, pulling him to her lips, focusing all her unexpressed love and adoration she felt for him.

Her movements stilled. “Do you know how much I love you?” She blurted out.

Peter smiled bashfully. “I might have a clue.”

Pushing the first aid kit to the side to properly straddle him, her hands ran through his hair, making Peter groan as he melted into the bed.

“How about you? Do you know how much I love you?”

She grinned cheekily. “I think I need a reminder.”

Leaning forward, their noses touched, and Peter’s smile grew wide as his head began to shake a little. He was so warm, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, smiling into every small kiss, finding solace in the knowledge he was home once more.

“I love you,” he whispered into the night. “I can’t believe you’re real. You’re so perfect.”

Her skin heated, heart swooning and Peter shyly ducked his face down before wincing when he shifted. It broke their comfortable silence, sending a hot flash of hurt and guilt down her spine before she turned and opened the drawer on her nightstand. Grabbing a water bottle, Ibuprofen and dark chocolate.

She always made sure to have a small stash for nights like these.

Pressing the rim of the water bottle to his lips, Peter drank gingerly, only lifting his hand to ease the bottle away, took the medication and waited as she unwrapped the chocolate, passing it to him.

His nose wrinkled as he bit into it, the bitter flavour and she giggled at his reaction.

“I know, but it’ll help regain some strength.”

As he ate, she learned that the marks came from a mutant hybrid: half-man, half-lion that was shortly detained after Peter and the NYPD chased it for ten blocks. But of course, it hadn’t gone down without a fight and ended up clawing him, tearing his suit and nearly sinking its fangs into his neck.

“Try and be more careful,” she sighed, reaching up to ruffle his hair.

Peter shoved the remaining chocolate in his mouth and placed his left hand on his heart, his right in the air as he swore, “I promise to be carefuller because I’m deathly afraid of a small kitten.”

“Oh, you dick.”

“I swear! I promise!”

“Parker —“

“I’m wounded! You know I don’t make promises I don’t intend to keep!”

“You talk an awful lot when wounded.”

“So much so I’ve learned to tune myself out.”

“I — just promise me!”

“Okay! I promise.”

Happy with the answer, she beamed and reached over to the nightstand to pull out another water, only to realize that was the last one. Peter caught on quickly too.

“I’ll go get more —“

“No,” he rasped, his mood instantly changing. His hands latched onto her, a needy, desperate expression written on his face. She allowed him to pull her back to his chest, feeling his face press against her neck while murmuring against her skin as she fought the urge to shiver from his touch. “Please don’t leave.”

“I’ll only be gone for a second, okay?” She tried to soothe, a little put off by his reaction but she assumed he was still shaken up. “You need something to eat.”

But his grip tightened. “Please.”

There was a part of Peter’s brain that rationally knew she only wanted to help, be a dotting partner, but he didn’t want her to take care of his wounds anymore. They would heal — look brand new after a goodnight’s sleep and the morning sun rose. All he wanted was her: to be close, to hold and to love at that moment. Every thought that swirled in his mind seemed to be drunk on the thought of her, her, her —

Roaming the streets of New York was never boring, but it was draining to have so much control, to use strength day in, day out. All he wanted was to relinquish it for a while.

His kisses were soft, sweet, tentative with underlying desire and urgency with every touch splayed across her skin. He didn’t want to leave a single place untouched by him, too addicted to stop.

She shifted in Peter’s lap, tugging him closer only to feel him jerking his hips up slightly, just to create more friction as she felt something poke into her leg.

“Really?” She laughed, running her fingers through his hair to look at him better. His face was flushed, a deep pink, most likely from embarrassment, tinged his cheeks. “You’re hard from this?”

“You’re pretty. I can’t appreciate my beautiful girlfriend?”

“Then I think you’d like to know I’m not wearing underwear.”

“Fuck,” he chuckled, “You’re such a tease.”

His head playfully shook a few times with a light smile. Chocolate brown eyes filled with soft admiration and want; Peter was filled with vulnerability as every action screamed neediness. He pressed quick kisses to her lips then looked up at her doe-eyed. “Darling,” he whispered, desperate and pleading. “Please — please.”

“Shh,” she chided, pulling away to seat herself on his thigh while undoing the belt of his robe and dragging the soft pads of her fingers along his cock, relishing in the way Peter shuddered under her touch.

Peter whimpered, entrusting his body to her, to let her use and toy with him.

Her thumb swiped over the tip, spreading the pre-cum that beaded through while setting a steady pace stroking his length.

He groaned, head falling back against the headrest. His hips twitched and buckled up, trying to thrust in time with her strokes but he physically couldn’t, too tired to.

‘“I’ve got you, Peter,” she shushed softly, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw as her hand twisted. “I’ll take care of you.”

Muffling his soft moans with a kiss, she ravished him, and he savoured her very being. Her touch anchored him to her, a present reminder that he was loved and cared for, no matter the wrong he did, she never asked.

He moved to gasp for air, only to return sucking on the patch of skin below her jaw. But she had other plans. Shifting her shirt up, she started to roll her hips onto his thigh.

Peter was slow to respond at first but eventually took it upon himself to help rock her back and forth, moaning as he felt the wetness coat him. Hands were everywhere; gazing at her skin and holding her tightly against him. His movements began to falter and lose the rhythm, but she continued.

Pawing at her shirt and lifting it above her head, Peter trailed the tips of his fingers from her stomach, only stopping at her breast and his thumb coming to lightly rub slow circles on her nipple. He pressed gentle kisses between her breasts before his tongue poked out, tracing light circles around her nipple. He was teasing, flicking the nub with his tongue until he took it in his mouth. Her hand reached to pull his hair again, every little tug making him hold back noises simultaneously as the other hand continued to stroke his cock fast.

She moaned with every careful swirl of his tongue, squeezed around his thigh and whined when the pressure on her clit was matched with Peter lightly biting at her nipple. Her knee was pressed against his groin, adding to Peter’s pleasure.

Peter pulled away, a silver line of spit snapping that connected his mouth from her breast, peering up to watch her reaction.

He gently jerked his thigh up, meeting her thrust and the added friction made her keen.

“You like that?”

She nodded her head minutely, legs beginning to shake and tremble as she was pushed to that edge. “Uh-huh.”

There was something that flashed in Peter’s eyes before, to the best of his abilities, bounced his leg fast — finding the perfect rhythm and angle to build the pleasure that shot up her spine.

She tightened, tensed, rubbing her clit faster while Peter firmly held her, rubbing his free hand up her back as they squirmed.

“Come for me —” he sounded frantic, one hand finding its way to push her down hard, her clit dragging up deliciously. His abdomen caved in with every small brush of her pussy on his thigh and stroke of his cock. “I want you to come, make a mess. Please baby,” he begged.

She focused on the building tightening of her stomach, the shivering that began to course through her entire body that built so fast it startled her. When Peter recognized, murmured and pleaded for her not to stop, the coiling sapped, bursting and scattered — a euphoric feeling that shot through her.

He prolonged her climax, leg continuing to flex to help guide her until her pussy began to ache from the aftershock.

Peter was staring at her, his eyes glazed and eyelids heavy with a pretty flush coating his cheeks. “Please.”

Her hand began to move again, starting a steady pace again that had him at her mercy once more.

“Tell me how it feels,” she said, marvelling at him.

Peter could barely speak, exhaustion flowing off of him in waves as he was desperate for release. He let out a strangled sort of moan, throaty. “So good. So, so, so good. T-thank you.”

Smiling, she shifted off his lap and trailed down a line of kisses from his stomach, then chest before settling between his legs. Peter gulped as he watched her tongue poke out to lick the slit of his cock.

Peter almost yelped, hips bucking up instinctively, then moaned when her mouth, hot and warm, slowly dragged up the flat of her tongue and closed around the first couple inches of his cock.

Peter was responsive to the tiniest of her touches. His bottom lip was trapped between his teeth, lips were bitten raw.

Peter groaned, desperately trying not to thrust into her mouth, rotting himself in place by gripping the bedsheets.

Gagging a little when the tip hit the back of her throat, she fisted the rest of him that couldn’t fit in his mouth and began bobbing her head. The sucking sounds obscene and Peter’s soft mewls in the otherwise quiet room.

Encouraged by his reaction, she sped up, hallowing her cheeks, sucking harder and moaning around him. The vibration nearly made him sob while her tongue dragged over a prominent vein along the side of his cock and she relished in the way his thighs clenched.

Peter thrashed a little when she pushed her head down further. And that was enough.

He came hard, her name spilling out in soft pants and whines as he used the little energy he still had to thrust up into her mouth.

She pulled back, wiped her mouth and settled herself back in his lap. His eyes were closed and hair messily strewn across his face.

“Thank you,” he whispered, opening his heavy lids to observe her.

She quirked a brow before kissing him, catching a quick look at the shine that reflected off his leg in the moonlight.

“That bath was for nothing.”

“I don’t mind repeating the cycle.”

She giggled, he melted into her touch and smiled to himself. Peter wrapped his arms around her, holding her as close as possible and she concentrated on his heart beating.

“I love you,” he said. His eyes seemed to glitter in the low lighting; there was nothing that could compare to the love that lurked behind every glance in his eyes or mere touch.

“I love you too.”

Love seemed like a silly, simple word to describe a feeling so much more than just simple. Love was driven by passion, potential labyrinth and an imperfect intricateness that built homes over barren land of blood vessels and organs.

Love tore, love mended, love was beautiful, love was dangerous.

But in this case, love only persevered and stored itself into the cages of their heats that always seemed too small to hold so much of it — as if two souls grasped and latched onto each other so tightly and constantly added renovations to their love storage. And Peter couldn’t mutter it enough.

She left him high, loved him deeply, and at the end of the day when night returns and the stars speckle the sky, she was a steady anchor that reeled Peter back home. Nothing could hold him down, keep him away. He would crawl home to her.

🥺🥺🥺🥺 ughhhhhhh i love them

a couple got engaged at yesterday's concert, so here's a little blurb for the since forever universe ♡ ( since forever masterlist ; harry's masterlist )

"You've stolen the show!" Harry yelled, surprised as he looked at the couple. "I've been standing here for an hour but you guys stole the show in fifteen seconds!"

He pretends to be offended, walking around the stage grabbing the wire of his microphone, when he barely hears:

"When is your turn?!"

He turns to the side he was yelled at, and puts a hand on his hip. "When is my turn?" He laughs, blushing. "I've been committed to the same person since I was a kid, not having a ring or a legal paper doesn't mean the opposite!"

The audience explodes into screams, and he looks up at the VIP to see his love, who smiles and shakes her head.

She looks beautiful, with a black bodysuit and with her hair down, she doesn't have much makeup on her face, and the lights shine in her eyes, or maybe it's the love she feels for him.

"That doesn't mean I don't want another ring on my finger, though." Harry mumbles into the microphone. "Let's get on with the show, this is Canyon Moon!"

Y/N and Harry having soft morning s3x (only if u are comfortable with writing it ofc)

of course!! this is them this morning <3

! | smut, praise kink, breeding kink, protected & vaginal sex.

HARRY’S MASTERLIST | SINCE FOREVER UNIVERSE

"Baby, yes." Y/N moans, holding onto Harry's shoulders, who thrusts inside her slowly.

They were both sleepy and their movements were slow and messy, but they both loved it when it was like this, more intimate.

"So, so perfect." He sobs, overwhelmed by the sensation. "You're so wet, shit."

They both cling to themselves, letting out moans of pleasure. The morning sun comes through the window, illuminating Harry's shoulder and Y/N's face, making them look angelic.

She tightens around him on purpose. "Please, want it inside, H."

"Fuck, m'soul, I'll give you all of it." He answers. "I'll give you all of it as you deserve it."

Y/N feels closer to climax thanks to the praise, and decides to contribute. "You're so big, I feel you on my belly."

He smiles, closing his sleepy orbs. "Yeah, feel me here?" He slides one hand up to her tummy, and rests her hand against it. "Gonna fill you up, give yeh a baby."

The deep moan that escapes from her throat is not let out by Harry, who bites his lip and accelerates his movements, mercilessly fucking her by hitting her weak point.

"Make you a mommy. You'd like that, huh?" He whispers in her ear.

Y/N nods desperately, about to come. "Want your babies, H."

She was taking the pill, but their kinks were bigger than that, and they just wanted to come.

Harry does it first, painting Y/N's walls white and using his thumb to caress her clit, which leads her to come as well.

They both lie in bed, already quite awake and silent, until Harry speaks first.

"I'll give you m'babies whenever you want."

😩 daddiest

mafialeader!h masterlist

welcome, you fucking sluts >:)

but i wanna play daddy

in which y/n doesn’t listen to her daddy, and mafia leader harry doesn’t fucking play

let me hear you

in which y/n touched herself without mafialeader!harry’s permission, and he made a rule saying she’s not allowed to

mark me

in which y/n asks mafialeader!h to mark her, and harry can’t believe how far they’ve cum.

closer

in which y/n wants to be closer to her savior, mafialeader!h, and harry has never felt such intimacy

good girls are patient

in which y/n looses her patience, and mafialeader!h loves giving his girl exactly what she wants

this is so good 😭😭

Like You’re Made of Glass {2}

A/N: send requests <3 I’ll post a list soon of some ideas I have so if you guys would vote or send requests from that list, I’d appreciate it!!

Warnings: mentions of death, angsty start, swearing, smut at the end, unprotected sex, oral (f recieving), praise kink (a little), orgasm denial

Word Count: 3.1k

Part 1 | spotify playlist

It broke Peter’s heart to leave you. He wished so much that he could lay there with you until the morning but the guilt ate him alive and it mounted with every moment he spent with you. He knew deep down that what happened between you last night was a mistake but after seeing you at that party, he just couldn’t keep his eyes off you. And watching you flirt with that guy burned him inside.

After you fell asleep, he lay there with you for a little while, unable to tear his eyes from your sleeping face and for the first time in eight months, he felt complete. At some point though, he knew reality had to set back in and he gathered the strength to get dressed and slip out your window into the icy air of New York.

Keep reading

Like You’re Made of Glass {2}

A/N: send requests <3 I’ll post a list soon of some ideas I have so if you guys would vote or send requests from that list, I’d appreciate it!!

Warnings: mentions of death, angsty start, swearing, smut at the end, unprotected sex, oral (f recieving), praise kink (a little), orgasm denial

Word Count: 3.1k

Part 1 | spotify playlist

It broke Peter’s heart to leave you. He wished so much that he could lay there with you until the morning but the guilt ate him alive and it mounted with every moment he spent with you. He knew deep down that what happened between you last night was a mistake but after seeing you at that party, he just couldn’t keep his eyes off you. And watching you flirt with that guy burned him inside.

After you fell asleep, he lay there with you for a little while, unable to tear his eyes from your sleeping face and for the first time in eight months, he felt complete. At some point though, he knew reality had to set back in and he gathered the strength to get dressed and slip out your window into the icy air of New York.

Keep reading

hot af 😩😩😩

quiet my fears with the touch of your hand

summary: taking care of peter's wounds always ends the same way. [andrew gardfield's spiderman x reader]

warnings: mutual masturbation (handjob and fingering), slight cum play? (technically also spit? idk if it counts)

18+ ONLY || MINORS DON'T INTERACT OR I'LL BLOCK YOU

word count: 1.3k

a/n: I'M OBSESSED WITH ANDREW'S PETER PARKER AND WHAT ABOUT IT?? this came to me after i watched that scene in the first tasm movie lol. in this, you and peter are in university (around 22 years old, let’s pretend people in their 20s care about nerds and bullys). also, there's no nwh spoilers in this, so everyone can read it.

“You’re an idiot,” you scold, tenderly cleaning the small cut on his chin from his fight with Flash.

Peter hisses when the alcohol seeps into the wound, almost throwing his head back against the mirror in pain but your grip on his jaw keeps him in place.

“Mmm, actually, I’m pretty smart,” he says, settling his hands on your waist and pulling you between his legs. “Top of the class, even.”

You roll your eyes, dumping the cotton on the sink and opening up a bandaid. “Not street smart enough, apparently,” you quip back, a small smirk on your lips, then drop it back to a frown. You put the bandaid on and cup his face. “Honestly, what were you thinking?”

“That Flash needed to be humbled a little. You know,” he shrugs, “show him not all nerds won’t fight back.” At your blank look, he grabs your face and squishes your cheeks. “C’mon, don’t look at me like that,” he pouts, cocking his head to the side.

“It’s a stupid reason,” you say.

“Mhm,” he hums.

“He broke your camera,” he hums again, shrugging one shoulder disinterestedly. He can fix it himself later. “You know I worry about you,” you continue. Peter hums once more, this time fighting back a smile. What can he say? He likes to know you care about him. “And you’re hurt.”

“Mhm, I am. Will you kiss it better?”

You huff out an irritated breath. Peter laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’re unbelievable,” you shake your head.

“You’re my nurse!” he chuckles, tilting your head back so you can look him in the eye. Childishly, he says, “Won’t you please make my booboo better?”

You try to pull away but he holds on to your face, shaking his head. “No, no, come here,” and he leans down to kiss you. Out of sheer stubbornness, you continue to struggle, but soon enough your body melts into his. You sag against him, one of your hands resting on his leg as leverage while the other goes to the back of his head and pulls on his hair.

He groans into your mouth, leaving the kiss in favour of trailing his lips down your neck. You sigh in pleasure, his sloppy pecks and nibbles making your tummy flutter nicely, a warmth seeping into your core that makes you a little fuzzy.

Your hand on his leg moves up slowly, teasingly. You reach his crotch at the same time his hand sneaks underneath your skirt, barely skirting your underwear, but it’s enough for you to whine desperately.

“Will you make it better, baby?” Peter mumbles into your skin, his hot breath making you shiver. You palm him through his jeans, feeling him harden with your simple touch. With shaky hands, you unbuckle his belt, your knees almost buckling when Peter rubs your clit through your panties. He smirks against your neck when the fabric gets wetter.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, running your nails over his stomach. His muscles flex, a low moan coming out of Peter’s mouth.

“Don’t tease,” he groans.

“You’re teasing me, too,” you chuckle, kissing his jaw and nipping it. You unzip his jeans, sneaking your fingers under the band of his boxers and running the soft pads of your fingers along his cock. Peter twitches at your delicate caress; desperate for more.

With an impatient huff, Peter moves your underwear to the side and runs his fingers between your glistening folds, coating them in your arousal, then slowly pushing two of them inside you. Your breath hitches at the slight burn, his fingers stretching you as he thrusts them. You rest your forehead against his, biting your lip to prevent the whine that threatens to leave your mouth from coming out.

Peter raises his hips to help you pull down his underwear, his cock finally springing free of its confines and hitting his stomach. “Shit,” he curses when you grab him. “Gimme your hand.”

You do as he says, looking through hooded eyes as he brings it closer to his mouth and runs his tongue all over it. It’s a lewd sight, your boyfriend covering your hand with his spit while he fingers you, but it’s so hot that you can’t help but moan. Loudly.

He gives you a nod and you grab his cock again, pumping him slowly and thumbing the slit whenever you reach the tip. He moans and throws his head back, the mirror rattling from the impact, but neither of you cares too much.

You gasp when Peter curls his fingers, pushing them to his knuckles and feeling a new wave of slick coating them. You grab the back of his neck with a shuddering moan, tightening your grip around his cock.

“So good, baby, you’re so good,” he moans, tilting down his head and bumping your jaw with his nose. He kisses underneath it, going up to your chin before kissing your lips deeply, drinking in all the pretty sounds you make for him.

Your pussy flutters around his fingers, your body eagerly receiving his praise. “I’m close,” you whimper into his mouth. He can tell, you’re practically squeezing the life out of his fingers, your pussy clinging to them and trying to keep them snug inside you.

Peter pulls your lower lip between his teeth, his thumb now rubbing circles on your clit. You’re so wet for him it’s slippery, but the effect he has on you drives him mad. “I know, baby, I know,” he coos hoarsely, his ears ringing with the wet sounds your pussy makes. “But hold it for me, yeah? I want to cum with you.”

You nod shakily, focusing on bringing Peter to the edge. You mimic the pace he fucks you with, biting and kissing along his neck, letting your other hand explore his torso under his t-shirt.

Peter takes hold of the roots of your hair, pulling you away from him. “Look at me,” he groans. Your lips are parted as you gaze at him, scanning your eyes over the purple bruise on his cheek and the cut on his chin, before finding a home in Peter’s chocolate ones. “You can let go, c’mon. Y’can do it, give it to me, baby.”

You come undone together– Peter twitching in your hand and covering it in white spurts with a beautiful whimper, and you falling against Peter, your legs shaking as you moan brokenly. He holds you tightly, the hand on your back coaxing you while he helps you ride your orgasm out.

You hide your face in his chest as you catch your breath, Peter tucking his head in the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply. He takes in your perfume– the hints of jasmine filling his nostrils and making him relax even more, the previous tension in his shoulders evaporating completely.

With slow and gentle movements, he pulls out his fingers, shushing you when you whine. He taps your wrist and leans completely against the mirror, keeping you from slumping down with a tight grip on your hip.

Already knowing what he wants, you bring your hand up to his mouth, Peter doing the same with his. He pokes his tongue out and licks your fingers, cleaning up the mess he made. He makes sure there’s no residue left behind, looking into your eyes as he runs his tongue over the back of your hand, grinning at the slight blush on your face.

“Your turn,” he says once he’s done, tapping his still wet fingers on your lips. You take them into your mouth and suck on them, running the flat of your tongue under the pads of his index and middle fingers with a content hum, your eyes falling shut as you clean him.

Even when there’s no more cum to clean up, you keep sucking on them, holding on to his wrist like a lifeline. Peter cups the back of your head and kisses your forehead, mumbling a “good girl” and tucking you under his chin.

ANDREW GARFIELD | SOHO House  

old Taylor photos: 168/?

LMAO

hmm yall finally writing some tasm!peter parker fics now huh🤨🤨 where were you years ago when i was tryna get railed by him but found nothing hmmm?? smh

She doesn't let me Rot

Summary: Peter shows up at your window vulnerable after a fight. When you're healing him, he finally crosses the line of being 'just friends'.

Warnings: Smut. Injuries, blood. Some angst at the beginning. Tasm!Peter. Spooning, bareback. Friends to lovers troupe. Peter is sad at first, he gets that healing bussy tho :]

a/n: don't mind that last warning, just having my fun :3

Navigation.

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It was the mere exhaustion caved into his very bones— or it could be the rot going right through his muscles; maybe both perhaps. It was in those moments of vulnerability that he wished to not be a hero.

But heroes are brave and they fight and they aren't weakned by the sight of their own scarlet— but rather of others.

He didn't feel like a hero in those seconds and minutes. He didn't feel brave— he was in anguish; he was torn.

Peter Parker felt as if he were a tragedy.

He took a sharp breath, as he closed his eyes, an optic of you flashed through his skull. He should go over to you— you'd stay with him, you wouldn't let him rot.

He hesitated for a moment; he didn't want to be a burden. But the need of him for you was too strong for him to avert. Within seconds, he found himself shooting swift white webs out from his wrists, precisely moving through the spaces of skyscrapers he found himself landing outside your window.

Peter's hand tapped the glass in a repetitive manner— a form of a message to let you know that it was him waiting at your doorstep.

His eyes scintillated as your silhouette came into view. He smiled— a painfully obvious way to hide the torture he was that you knew all too well.

"Peter— you idiot" you gasped, hands unhinging the window to let him in. Your hands found themselves over his shoulders and you pulled him in.

He wasn't sure why, but his eyes were tearing up and he crushed your bodies together and buried his face in your shoulder. The scent of you brought life within him out again.

"Why didn't you come over earlier? Your injuries aren't fresh"

"I just— It was a long day. I didn't wanna be a— a burden" he shuddered as he spoke, and he held onto you so tight as though he were afraid of adrifting.

You sighed into his hair, traveling your palms over the scratches bleeding out red from his veins. "You're not a burden. That's something that'll never happen, I swear"

His eyes shone brightly from the lighting of your room. The shades of brown, deep and wild— like a foliage gathered from disrobed trees in a dry winter.

"Can I heal you now, please?" You said, staring right through his iris. He nodded and sat on the edge of your bed. You were quick to find the ointments, bandages and other required items to cure him.

When you came back, he had already stripped down to his boxers. Your eyes fell down to his crotch before quickly drifting up to his face to avoid any suspicions; however he'd caught it.

Peter sat up, eagerly waiting for you to soothe his ache. As you sat beside him and prepared to fix him, he found his hands softly running themselves over your face, pushing your strands away.

He watched intently as your eyes focused themselves on pulling the poisons and acrimony out from him. His eyes were adoring as you cleaned and cured and mended him meticulously.

He hissed as you pushed a towel deep into his cut, clearing out toxins from him. "Sorry" you mumbled apologetically.

Peter didn't answer you, he just stared at you with reverence. He'd found safety within your heart He wanted to pour himself into you. He wanted you.

"And we're done, bug boy" you smiled, removing the bloodied cloths from your bed and settling up further onto him.

His palm darted down to your face, cradling your cheeks and making you look straight up. "I can't tell you, how grateful I am to have you" Peter said in a low voice.

Inhaling sharply, you found yourself lost into counting the freckles speckled over his sculptured skin.

He deemed closer, nudging your nose with his as his eyes never left yours.

And then his lips crashed over yours. You drew a gasp as he kissed you. It was like he'd been twinged for years and you weren't a frailty to it— rather a potion of fortitude.

He was kissing you hard; passionately; affectionately, putting out whatever was in him into that kiss. You gripped him by his shoulders as he pulled you to sit astride him.

As you pulled away from his mouth for a moment, his eyes were questioning you silently. "I want this" you huffed in a quick breath, "I've always wanted this"

"I have too" he whispered, pulling you flush against himself. His fingers were on your hips, grinding you over his hardening length as he licked at your throat. "I'm sorry it took me so long to do it" His lips met yours again and your fingers were tangled into his hair.

He was quick to push you down on your bed, dragging you beneath himself. "Can I?" Peter asked, tugging at your shirt. You nodded and arched up to help him remove it.

His eyes darkened as he let out a groan as your bare chest was revealed to him, "God, you don't know how long I've waited" he mumbled against your skin, kissing along your breasts.

His hands palmed and teased your nipples as he kissed you. You whimpered as he soon wrapped his mouth around your taut nipple.

Swirling his tongue and sucking over the sensitive buds. The weight of him was bearing you down. His tongue flicked over your nipple and you let out a smothered moan.

Then he was kissing down your abdomen, biting and painting hues with mouth over your hips and thighs. One of his hand was still squeezing your tits as he pulled your panties down with the other. "Fuck" he spoke with a slight scratch in his voice, "You're absolutely perfect"

The coil of want grew tighter within you and you pulled him down to kiss you. His hips were aligned perfectly with yours and he began grinding him cock along your heat.

His fingers slowly reached down and rubbed your clit, dragging out your arousal and he teased you. "Peter— i" you moaned, bucking your hips up into his hand. He kept his hand pressed against your cunt and let your drag and move your hips.

"You're so wet angel" the brunette grunted, sliding the pads of his fingers through your folds as he kissed you hard.

Finally, he removed his hands from you and pushed his boxers down. The lenght of him was hard and throbbing to feel you clench and squirm around him.

"Wait— I" you paused him for a second, he froze as he looked down at you, "Do you think you can do it? You were hurt. We can stop— i— if you're too tired"

At your words, his eyes crinkled and he kissed your nose, resting his forehead against yours. "I am not tired nor do I want to stop. Having superpowers has it perks I suppose"

You chuckled lightly, "Right, you're Spiderman"

Peter laughed and kissed you again. His hands were delicate as he pushed you onto your side, he ran his hands over your body, parting your thighs to align himself.

"Do you want to?" he questioned.

"Yes, I do"

His anticipation ceased an end then. His positioned himself and teased and tormented your avidity. The head of him tapped against your clit and you whimpered, "Peter, please"

He impaled his cock deep inside you. Your cry was loud and wanting, he began panting near your shoulder as he moved. His hands were holding your body flush against his and he thrust in you.

"You feel so fucking good—" he groaned, stroking himself deeper and harder.

You were like a fantasy that he'd barely even had the privilege to envisage about— but now it was like a fever dream that had come true through the millions of prayers he'd pondered.

Peter snaked an arm over your chest, and his other hand hoisted your thigh up as he pounded harder. His breaths were ragged and needy, building up a twine of delectation in you.

He wasn't too slow or too fast. His pace was as rhythmic as you needed it to be.

"Oh my— Peter. More!" you gripped his arm tightly as he moved faster, his lips pressed over your shoulder.

"I'm already fucking you. What else do you need angel?" he mocked, rolling his hips in a way that had you shaking.

"I want you to— to, play with my—"

"Go on..." he grunted, "..play with your?"

"My— my pussy" you whimpered and pushed yourself back into him. The sounds and the sight were obscene; erotic. The bed creaked as he drove his length into your cunt over and over.

Peter's fingers found themselves between your thighs, drawing tight and rough circles over your clit. Your eyes shut close as your climax was right near the end.

He hissed and his mouth fell open as he slammed in. "Cum for me, I'm almost there, fuck—" Your walls tightened and then— white flashed over your eyes.

Stars bloomed over your lids as you come. You shook and sobbed as he pounded through your orgasm.

Peter pulled out abruptly, moaning as he came and painted you in white. Your stomach smeared with his cum. You both panted as you came down from euphoria.

As you layed there— reality came through again, like a nail through your head.

You'd just had sex with your so called, 'best friend' after healing him.

Gulping you turned your head to him, staring into his calm relaxed brown eyes. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine yeah" you said flatly, still flabbergasted from recent events, Peter however seemed to have no remorse or guilt or regret in him.

Rather his eyes were obsessive and adoring and devoted.

"What is it?" He asked, running his index finger over your nose as he kissed your cheek.

"I— you don't think that, that, this is weird?"

"No, I'm happy we did it, aren't you?"

"I am"

He smiled and pulled the coverlet over the two of you, tracing his hands over the freckles and beauty marks and scars of your exposed skin.

"I think I want to make you my girlfriend" he said, "Do it then."

--------

(follow @bellysstudy to be notified of my works)

to all the fic writers out there who have made 2021 bearable and have given us all countless hours of happiness and escapism, thank you so much

I’ll Crawl Home to Her

After a long day, all Peter wants is a bit of love and someone to take care of him.

PAIRING: TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT: 3k

CONTENT: they’re 18+, fluff, nsfw, oral (m), light sub/dom, soft smut, mentions of violence, injuries + blood, thigh riding, cleaning wounds, bit of plot (?)

NOTES: inspired after the scene where Peter goes to Gwen’s place. And I should have proof read this more but I really wanted to get this out asap!

The tapping sound was faint, almost inaudible and would have been mistaken for tree branches rattling together or the traffic lights swaying in the breeze had it not been insistent. It began from the base of the window by her bed, becoming increasingly louder, slicing through the night.

The latches popped open, the window being pushed open with a hand restricted from view as a thudding sound echoed throughout the room.

The action would have been concerning for anyone but her.

Instead, she rolled out of bed, rubbed the sleep from her eyes and shuffled closer to the window. She kicked over the black bag that was tossed to the ground before looking out.

“Sorry,” Peter rasped, smiling weakly as his mouth hung open. “Wasn’t trying to be that loud.”

Peter crouched on the fire escape that wrapped around the apartment building. The soft moonlight caressed his face, hidden and shining through his hair along with the nearby multicoloured lights that reflected off the nearby bulletin boards.

There was a monochromatic beauty of the moon that the sun could never offer: the return of Peter.

“Oh, Pete,” she sighed, worried that he was maskless. Her focus latched onto the blood coating the side of his face, matting his hair to his head and the gashes and tears through his suit.

“Been a long night,” he tried to joke, shifting and climbing through the window.

She wrapped her hands around him when he came in, limping and nearly falling over. She observed him, searching for any other injuries as Peter leaned into her touch.

Peter always did this, refused to go to the hospital in fear of revealing identity. She saw what the world didn’t get to. They saw Spider-man, an invincible being, undoubtedly brave with superhuman strength and intelligence. But she saw Peter Parker: a boy battered and bruised, soft and shy — limbs pliable as clay every night.

It was a privilege knowing Peter, one that was filled with the purest of love and devotion but frightening, darkened by the fear that he may meet his match one day.

No matter how many times he managed to find his way back to her like this, it never failed to bring an overwhelming terror to wash over her, having to stifle the onslaught of tears.

“Hey, hey,” he cooed. “It’s not that bad. I’m fine. You know I heal unnaturally fast.”

She bit her cheek, nodded stiffly and led Peter into the bathroom to run a bath.

As softly as possible, she tried to peel his suit off him and lowered him in the tub. He hissed and grunted, pain etched into his face as the sensitive wounds met the warm water.

She knelt on the cold tiles, bending over the bath, wiping away the blood with wet cloths, washing away the dirt, blood and grim as Peter tried to prevent soap from entering the open wounds. He hissed through clenched several times as she lifted the alcohol-soaked rag to the cuts.

Thankfully, Peter eventually relaxed. A continuous murmur of ‘thank you’s’ left his lips was mixed in with the running tap. His head rested against the cool titles and raised white ridge of the bath as he watched her with a soft glance.

“You’re the best,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching up until noticing her expression.

Her mouth hadn’t shifted from the fine line it had set itself when she first saw his condition.

She doesn’t ask what happened, she rarely does these days, but it doesn’t stop the worry that ate away at her. And by the look of these wounds, there was no doubt he had been in a grave situation.

“Stop it,” he tried, hoping to halt her movements. “Hey — Woah — easy there.”

His hand, wet with soapy water lifted to cup her cheek and forced her to hold his gaze. “I’m fine. I’m here.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, forcing on a little smile while soaking in his touch. “I’m just… I’m always so worried.”

There was something unreadable that crossed Peter.

“I know, and I’m sorry.”

She shook her head, kissed the tip of his nose and got up, albeit with a whine of protest from Peter, leaving to reach for the mirror cabinet to grab the first aid kit. “You never have to apologize for quite literally saving New York.”

There was a slight chuckle, followed by the splashing of water that had her whipping her head.

“Woah!” She exclaimed, rushing up to Peter who had stood by himself, grabbing his robe with wobbly legs. “Easy there, bug boy. No responsibilities for you tonight. Let me take care of you.”

Guiding him back to their bed, Peter winced as he lowered himself down, sinking into the fluffy bedding and pillows, drowning in his robe but managed to keep one hand on her thigh.

Dabbing on antibiotic ointments before applying little bandaids on top of cuts, she was acutely aware of Peter’s unwillingness to let her go, not even for a moment.

“Mm,” he said, a bit distressed as the antibiotics stung him. “You’re wearing my shirt.”

“Was missing you. Makes me feel like you’re close to me.”

She continued to work in silence, smiling every once in a while and Peter’s soft gaze never left her face.

“Penny for your thoughts, Spidey?”

“Don’t mind me, just enjoying the view.”

He found purchase on her hips and waist, tugging her close. His grip was a little too hard, but her heart bubbled with a sense of fondness. He always underestimated and forgot his strength and capabilities when he got overwhelmed.

She placed a kiss on top of the last bandaid placed. His skin was littered with scars; some old, some new, some still a deep red, some healed. But it didn’t make him any less beautiful or worthy. Gently hooking a finger under his chin, pulling him to her lips, focusing all her unexpressed love and adoration she felt for him.

Her movements stilled. “Do you know how much I love you?” She blurted out.

Peter smiled bashfully. “I might have a clue.”

Pushing the first aid kit to the side to properly straddle him, her hands ran through his hair, making Peter groan as he melted into the bed.

“How about you? Do you know how much I love you?”

She grinned cheekily. “I think I need a reminder.”

Leaning forward, their noses touched, and Peter’s smile grew wide as his head began to shake a little. He was so warm, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, smiling into every small kiss, finding solace in the knowledge he was home once more.

“I love you,” he whispered into the night. “I can’t believe you’re real. You’re so perfect.”

Her skin heated, heart swooning and Peter shyly ducked his face down before wincing when he shifted. It broke their comfortable silence, sending a hot flash of hurt and guilt down her spine before she turned and opened the drawer on her nightstand. Grabbing a water bottle, Ibuprofen and dark chocolate.

She always made sure to have a small stash for nights like these.

Pressing the rim of the water bottle to his lips, Peter drank gingerly, only lifting his hand to ease the bottle away, took the medication and waited as she unwrapped the chocolate, passing it to him.

His nose wrinkled as he bit into it, the bitter flavour and she giggled at his reaction.

“I know, but it’ll help regain some strength.”

As he ate, she learned that the marks came from a mutant hybrid: half-man, half-lion that was shortly detained after Peter and the NYPD chased it for ten blocks. But of course, it hadn’t gone down without a fight and ended up clawing him, tearing his suit and nearly sinking its fangs into his neck.

“Try and be more careful,” she sighed, reaching up to ruffle his hair.

Peter shoved the remaining chocolate in his mouth and placed his left hand on his heart, his right in the air as he swore, “I promise to be carefuller because I’m deathly afraid of a small kitten.”

“Oh, you dick.”

“I swear! I promise!”

“Parker —“

“I’m wounded! You know I don’t make promises I don’t intend to keep!”

“You talk an awful lot when wounded.”

“So much so I’ve learned to tune myself out.”

“I — just promise me!”

“Okay! I promise.”

Happy with the answer, she beamed and reached over to the nightstand to pull out another water, only to realize that was the last one. Peter caught on quickly too.

“I’ll go get more —“

“No,” he rasped, his mood instantly changing. His hands latched onto her, a needy, desperate expression written on his face. She allowed him to pull her back to his chest, feeling his face press against her neck while murmuring against her skin as she fought the urge to shiver from his touch. “Please don’t leave.”

“I’ll only be gone for a second, okay?” She tried to soothe, a little put off by his reaction but she assumed he was still shaken up. “You need something to eat.”

But his grip tightened. “Please.”

There was a part of Peter’s brain that rationally knew she only wanted to help, be a dotting partner, but he didn’t want her to take care of his wounds anymore. They would heal — look brand new after a goodnight’s sleep and the morning sun rose. All he wanted was her: to be close, to hold and to love at that moment. Every thought that swirled in his mind seemed to be drunk on the thought of her, her, her —

Roaming the streets of New York was never boring, but it was draining to have so much control, to use strength day in, day out. All he wanted was to relinquish it for a while.

His kisses were soft, sweet, tentative with underlying desire and urgency with every touch splayed across her skin. He didn’t want to leave a single place untouched by him, too addicted to stop.

She shifted in Peter’s lap, tugging him closer only to feel him jerking his hips up slightly, just to create more friction as she felt something poke into her leg.

“Really?” She laughed, running her fingers through his hair to look at him better. His face was flushed, a deep pink, most likely from embarrassment, tinged his cheeks. “You’re hard from this?”

“You’re pretty. I can’t appreciate my beautiful girlfriend?”

“Then I think you’d like to know I’m not wearing underwear.”

“Fuck,” he chuckled, “You’re such a tease.”

His head playfully shook a few times with a light smile. Chocolate brown eyes filled with soft admiration and want; Peter was filled with vulnerability as every action screamed neediness. He pressed quick kisses to her lips then looked up at her doe-eyed. “Darling,” he whispered, desperate and pleading. “Please — please.”

“Shh,” she chided, pulling away to seat herself on his thigh while undoing the belt of his robe and dragging the soft pads of her fingers along his cock, relishing in the way Peter shuddered under her touch.

Peter whimpered, entrusting his body to her, to let her use and toy with him.

Her thumb swiped over the tip, spreading the pre-cum that beaded through while setting a steady pace stroking his length.

He groaned, head falling back against the headrest. His hips twitched and buckled up, trying to thrust in time with her strokes but he physically couldn’t, too tired to.

‘“I’ve got you, Peter,” she shushed softly, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw as her hand twisted. “I’ll take care of you.”

Muffling his soft moans with a kiss, she ravished him, and he savoured her very being. Her touch anchored him to her, a present reminder that he was loved and cared for, no matter the wrong he did, she never asked.

He moved to gasp for air, only to return sucking on the patch of skin below her jaw. But she had other plans. Shifting her shirt up, she started to roll her hips onto his thigh.

Peter was slow to respond at first but eventually took it upon himself to help rock her back and forth, moaning as he felt the wetness coat him. Hands were everywhere; gazing at her skin and holding her tightly against him. His movements began to falter and lose the rhythm, but she continued.

Pawing at her shirt and lifting it above her head, Peter trailed the tips of his fingers from her stomach, only stopping at her breast and his thumb coming to lightly rub slow circles on her nipple. He pressed gentle kisses between her breasts before his tongue poked out, tracing light circles around her nipple. He was teasing, flicking the nub with his tongue until he took it in his mouth. Her hand reached to pull his hair again, every little tug making him hold back noises simultaneously as the other hand continued to stroke his cock fast.

She moaned with every careful swirl of his tongue, squeezed around his thigh and whined when the pressure on her clit was matched with Peter lightly biting at her nipple. Her knee was pressed against his groin, adding to Peter’s pleasure.

Peter pulled away, a silver line of spit snapping that connected his mouth from her breast, peering up to watch her reaction.

He gently jerked his thigh up, meeting her thrust and the added friction made her keen.

“You like that?”

She nodded her head minutely, legs beginning to shake and tremble as she was pushed to that edge. “Uh-huh.”

There was something that flashed in Peter’s eyes before, to the best of his abilities, bounced his leg fast — finding the perfect rhythm and angle to build the pleasure that shot up her spine.

She tightened, tensed, rubbing her clit faster while Peter firmly held her, rubbing his free hand up her back as they squirmed.

“Come for me —” he sounded frantic, one hand finding its way to push her down hard, her clit dragging up deliciously. His abdomen caved in with every small brush of her pussy on his thigh and stroke of his cock. “I want you to come, make a mess. Please baby,” he begged.

She focused on the building tightening of her stomach, the shivering that began to course through her entire body that built so fast it startled her. When Peter recognized, murmured and pleaded for her not to stop, the coiling sapped, bursting and scattered — a euphoric feeling that shot through her.

He prolonged her climax, leg continuing to flex to help guide her until her pussy began to ache from the aftershock.

Peter was staring at her, his eyes glazed and eyelids heavy with a pretty flush coating his cheeks. “Please.”

Her hand began to move again, starting a steady pace again that had him at her mercy once more.

“Tell me how it feels,” she said, marvelling at him.

Peter could barely speak, exhaustion flowing off of him in waves as he was desperate for release. He let out a strangled sort of moan, throaty. “So good. So, so, so good. T-thank you.”

Smiling, she shifted off his lap and trailed down a line of kisses from his stomach, then chest before settling between his legs. Peter gulped as he watched her tongue poke out to lick the slit of his cock.

Peter almost yelped, hips bucking up instinctively, then moaned when her mouth, hot and warm, slowly dragged up the flat of her tongue and closed around the first couple inches of his cock.

Peter was responsive to the tiniest of her touches. His bottom lip was trapped between his teeth, lips were bitten raw.

Peter groaned, desperately trying not to thrust into her mouth, rotting himself in place by gripping the bedsheets.

Gagging a little when the tip hit the back of her throat, she fisted the rest of him that couldn’t fit in his mouth and began bobbing her head. The sucking sounds obscene and Peter’s soft mewls in the otherwise quiet room.

Encouraged by his reaction, she sped up, hallowing her cheeks, sucking harder and moaning around him. The vibration nearly made him sob while her tongue dragged over a prominent vein along the side of his cock and she relished in the way his thighs clenched.

Peter thrashed a little when she pushed her head down further. And that was enough.

He came hard, her name spilling out in soft pants and whines as he used the little energy he still had to thrust up into her mouth.

She pulled back, wiped her mouth and settled herself back in his lap. His eyes were closed and hair messily strewn across his face.

“Thank you,” he whispered, opening his heavy lids to observe her.

She quirked a brow before kissing him, catching a quick look at the shine that reflected off his leg in the moonlight.

“That bath was for nothing.”

“I don’t mind repeating the cycle.”

She giggled, he melted into her touch and smiled to himself. Peter wrapped his arms around her, holding her as close as possible and she concentrated on his heart beating.

“I love you,” he said. His eyes seemed to glitter in the low lighting; there was nothing that could compare to the love that lurked behind every glance in his eyes or mere touch.

“I love you too.”

Love seemed like a silly, simple word to describe a feeling so much more than just simple. Love was driven by passion, potential labyrinth and an imperfect intricateness that built homes over barren land of blood vessels and organs.

Love tore, love mended, love was beautiful, love was dangerous.

But in this case, love only persevered and stored itself into the cages of their heats that always seemed too small to hold so much of it — as if two souls grasped and latched onto each other so tightly and constantly added renovations to their love storage. And Peter couldn’t mutter it enough.

She left him high, loved him deeply, and at the end of the day when night returns and the stars speckle the sky, she was a steady anchor that reeled Peter back home. Nothing could hold him down, keep him away. He would crawl home to her.

NOW I’M SEARCHING EVERY LONELY PLACE, EVERY CORNER CALLIN OUT (y/n) 

Three Whole Days

Summary: You should have known better than to leave  Bucky alone. He’s had three whole days to think of what he’s going to do when you get back. 

Pairing: Beefy!Biker Bucky x Reader

Warning: Smut, Minors DNI, Oral (M and F receiving), slight exhibition kink, public sex, vibe, handcuffs, orgasm denial, praise kink,, dom/sub, overstimulation, grumpy Bucky. 

A/N: fair warning its a little tame. Not Requested. Beta’d by the wonderful @sweeterthanthis, @whisperlullaby and @navybrat817 but all mistakes are my own. 

Do not copy, rewrite, translate or post my work anywhere. No permission given to copy, translate, rewrite or post any parts of my stories.  Comments, likes and reblogs are wonderful. 

Check out my Masterlist and Taglist! Requests are closed 

“Alright ladies, let’s gather around and have a moment of silence.” 

You groan, more of whine really, embarrassment seeping through your pores, your cheeks heated when your best friend motions for the group to surround you. “Will you shut the fuck up?” you hiss, hiding your face from the onlookers in the too crowded airport. 

Marcie takes a deep, overly dramatic breath in and exhales, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to celebrate the memory of a tight, wet ass pussy that is going to be taken from the world too damn soon-ow,” her speech cut off when you jab her in her stomach. 

“Quit it and get away from me,” you huff with a tinge of concealed laughter, not wanting to encourage them more. Adjusting your heavy bag over your shoulder, you embrace Marcie with one arm, giving her a squeeze, smiling when you feel your friends envelop you in a group hug. “This was fun and I can’t wait to do it again.” 

As you walk through the gates, your friends break away from the small group with goodbyes, selfies, and more hugs. The impromptu girls’ trip was an incredible experience and you loved every moment. 

Bucky on the other hand. 

Yeah, he was not happy. Not happy with you at all. He made it very clear the night you left for the airport. You hope that he used the past three days to calm down. 

Taking your phone out of your back pocket, you turn it on for the first time in three days. The rapid-fire notifications fill the screen, the continuous pings drawing Marcie’s attention. “God damn, your pussy really is going to die,” she laughs, looking at the flood of messages. 

You shrug, keeping a grip on your bag, “Bucky just likes to talk,” you retort defensively. “He’s chatty.”

“I’ve never heard him say more than five words at time,” Marcie gives you a disbelieving look out of the side of her eye, “I hope you stretched.” 

Snorting, you nudge her with your hip, rolling your eyes as you navigate your way to the entrance. Now you’ll never admit it but she’s right, and you really wished you had thought to limber up before you got off the plane.  Your phone continues to light up with message after message. Scrolling through your screen, you can pinpoint the exact moment he began to lose his shit. 

Five hours into your trip.

“Be safe” turned to “I miss you” to “when the fuck are you getting back” to “I’m horny.” 

Sweet messages of “I love you” and “have fun” mixed in with “I’m going to fuck your brains out” and “tell my pussy I miss her.” 

You’re staring at the dick pic he sent six hours into your trip, your panties dampening when you see the next message is a video and you want to play it so bad, part of you not even caring that you’re in public. Damn, he’s rubbing off you; at this rate, you’re going to be worse than he is. You’re almost at the exit when you notice a crowd of employees huddled together whispering loudly. 

“You need to ask him to leave.” 

“I’m not going anywhere near him. I’m not trying to die today, I have stuff to do tomorrow, you go ask him to leave.” 

“How long is he going to just stand there?” 

“I tried to ask but he glared at me.” A slight pause. “It was sexy.” 

“Really, Jennifer?” 

“What! He’s hot. I want him to glare at me like that while he makes me-” 

You and Marcie exchange glances, her shoulders shaking as she covers her mouth with her hand. Sighing, you walk around the group and your steps falter, your pulse kicking up. 

Seguir leyendo

“there are many children in afghanistan, but little childhood.” 

please consider donating/sharing this list of trusted organizations to help those in need. please add to the list as well.

women for afghan women 

afghan aid

sanitary products for displaced afghan women

so cute

high security

© @jenifergoines

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

After a hard mission, you need to rest.

word count: 457 words.

warnings/tags: none.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

join the tag list NEW!!! here.

It had been a tough mission this time. A guy smashed you against a car and broke you two ribbons. Your face didn't feel better with a black eye and a cut on your left cheek. Although you were healed in the plane after finishing him with a knockout and recovering the radioactive material his organization stole from a high-security facility. What a joke. You were depleted and the flight would take seven hours else to land in Washington DC, but you couldn't sleep.

After almost thirty minutes rolling from one side to another on your couch, you puffed sorely. Steve glanced at you by the corner of his eyes, kicking Bucky's right leg quietly. The soldier was looking through the rounded window, lost in his thoughts. He frowned at his lifelong friend until the Captain nodded off towards your position. The pair of pale blue eyes laid on you, frustrated and with a hand pressed on one of your sides. For Natasha and Tony, it took them a couple of seconds to understand where he was going when he stood up on his tired feet.

“Get up”. You heard his tone of voice as if he pretended it to be a secret, contemplating how he removed the jacket from his uniform.

Your cheeks were burning in shame, believing that he was going to take you to another part of the plane to give you a speech about they all were fucked too. Swallowing, you did it. “Sorry, I didn't me—”.

As he took your seat, your words collapsed in your lips. Bucky held your wrist with so much gentleness, urging you to sit on his lap. At this point, you thought you were dead and it was your ascension to Heaven. Cuddling on top of his lap, after he reclined back on the couch, he accommodated his jacket over your body and his arms carefully wrapped around it, practically covering you completely till your ankles.

You rested your head on his chest, hearing his heart almost racing by your closeness, not paying attention to the contained smiles around you. Bucky was like the perfect pillow. Snugging you to help you to sleep. What the rest of the Avengers couldn't see was his fingers caressing your back and arm to relax you as much as he was capable of.

You two weren't two big talkers, but the complicity and the feelings between both were pretty obvious for everybody. The fact was that you were giving Bucky time to get used to the future he was living in now, making him trust you bit by bit. And he usually demonstrated you with small gestures like those, like making you feel better. That was his new mission. Your well-being.

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not tonight

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: you lose your wedding ring. bucky gets upset. what better place to argue about it then the middle of a gala?

“Where are they? Gala starts in 10 minutes.”

“I saw Barnes head for their room — “

“Y/N finished training an hour ago. She should already be in there.”

Steve narrowed his eyes, “I told everyone to be out here and ready by six.”

“It’s fine, Steve,” Bruce reasoned.

“It’s not fine. Fury has the UN Security Council coming and we need to make a good impression as a team.”

“Since when do we care what they think?” Clint interrupted.

“Since they threatened us. Am I the only one that was paying attention to the meet— “

And Natasha zoned them out. Completely out because she knew that Steve was right. He always was when it came to things like this and even she could admit that their reputation hadn’t been the best lately. Had the media to thank for that, so maybe making good impressions wasn’t a bad idea. Especially not when they were to the UN Security Council.

She hadn’t realized she walked into your shared room until she was in there. The lights were out and it was dark. Really dark with the only light peering from the far-left window. It wasn’t much, but it allowed her to catch a glimpse of the gala outfits hanging from the couch.

“How come they get to sleep in?” Clint commented.

“Sleep in?” Steve questioned. “Buck, are you — we need to be heading to the Gala!”

“Calm down, Steve,” Bruce reasoned again.

“No, Bruce. This is important. It’s the UN and look — Coulson just texted and said the council is waiting on us and Bucky! Buck, get your ass up — “

“Language!” Tony walked in. “Got a mouth on you, Cap. Gotta say, kinda glad it’s not me being late to this whole thing.”

“Tony — “

“Guys, we need — “

“Shh,” you stirred, covering Bucky’s ears with your hands. “Shh, would you guys be quiet? Some of us have enhanced hearing.”

Natasha laughed. Hadn’t realized she left the door open when she walked in and it was funny, really, because her family could have already been at the Gala by now, but instead they were standing here, bickering. Yelling in Steve’s case. It was so like them and so like you and Bucky to be in your own world. With his head on your chest, cheek pressed against your sternum and arms locked around you. It was peaceful, looked it too with the way the white sheet draped over you two. Reminded her how in love you two really were. She sometimes forgets it, gets too caught up in missions and briefings to realize it, but she feels it. Always does whenever she walks into a room with you two.

She watched as one of your hands moved to stroke though his hair, before coming back to rest over his ears.

“Y/N, meet us at the Gala?”

You nodded.

Then, she pushed everyone out of the room. Didn’t bother to listen to their protests because it didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

Some things were just more important than appearances.

It didn’t take more than forty minutes for you two to show up. Bucky looked like he didn’t want to be there, and you looked, well, like you wanted to be anywhere he was. Natasha smiled at that, while Tony – Tony focused on the great job he did picking out your outfits. They matched and were all black and badass, as he put it.

“Finally showed up, Buck?” Steve commented. “With lipstick on your face, pal? Real classy.”

Your eyes widened, “Buck! I told you to wipe it off.”

Bucky muttered a sorry, sweetheart like your marks on me, while you used your free hand to wipe the lipstick residue off his face. Steve thought it was so typical, so married of you two to show up like this and he – he couldn’t be mad if he tried.

“Long as you guys are here.”

Because that’s all that really mattered, wasn’t it? The whole team being together, mingling, and having a good time? Everyone gathering around and seeing them, his team, the way that he seems them – as partners, friends, and heroes. It seemed like it was going well. Even noticed the council cheer and toast with Sam when they announced that dinner would be ready soon.

It was a good evening, a happy one. Steve and Nat partly wanted to thank themselves for that, their overbearing selves because they kept an eye on their family the entire night. Watched as they maneuvered through the room and made bonds, good, solid ones with the council and others. Even watched Y/N and Bucky separate for a bit to do so also. Never too far though. Bucky never liked being far from his girl, liked keeping his eyes on you incase these events got too much. That way he could just grab you and walk out if he needed too.

“Gotta say, you’re really pretty Y/N. Dress does wonders on you.” that guy, Mark, from the treasury or something complimented.

Bucky stopped talking when he heard that.

“My husband thinks so too.”

“Didn’t know you were married.”

“Read all the tabloids, except that one then? Or is your reading level not that advanced yet?”

Mark grabbed your wrist when you turned to walk away and for Bucky, well, that’s all it took for him to swing at him. Take a nice clean punch to his mouth because no one talked to his girl like that and no one – no one grabs her like that.

No one.

A flail of Bucky’s fell from the team as they hurried over to him. Steve was the first to grab him and push him off Mark. Something about a not here, Buck and he’s not worth it came from him. Not that he listened or cared because this was his girl he was talking about, his girl that he was protecting and Steve — Steve knew that and didn’t push. Not too much. It did take Sam and Clint to get him to walk away though. Small steps at the very least because Bucky could punch that Mark again. Steve knew he would’ve. Sam and Clint did too. So, when you started heading to the bathroom, they were more than a little thankful that he followed.

You were dampening a paper towel under the sink when he entered.

“You really need to do that, Buck?” you questioned. “You know how important this night is to Steve.”

“He deserved it, baby.”

“Not tonight.”

Bucky sighed, “So, I was supposed to stand there? Let him flirt with you? Is that it?”

“No,” you shook your head. “No, Buck, but he didn’t need to be punched either. Not tonight and especially not in front of all these people.”

“Y/N — “he replied, sternly as you pressed the towel to his hand. “Baby, he deserved it and you know it. Didn’t even bother to look at your — where’s your ring?”

“My ring? What? It’s on my oh— “

Bucky shook his head. Shook his head and dropped his hand from yours. You knew how it looked, what it meant, and you felt terrible. It was more than just a wedding band, something that signified that you were each other’s. It was a promise, a vow, and it held a lot more meaning than anyone could ever fathom. It was a promise that he spent months sketching out and sending to Wakanda, a promise that went through good and bad days, a promise of faith, loyalty and one that you swore that if you ever took off was because you didn’t want him anymore.

Your eyes fell on him, “James.”

He started walking away.

“James,” you followed. “Honey, come back.”

Clint walked in, “Dinners ready. You two good?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

You reached for his hand, but he pulled away and your heart fell. God, this wasn’t the time. This wasn’t the time at all because you just gave him a whole speech about being good tonight, about how he couldn’t act like he did in front of all these people, but when he told Steve that we’re not married anymore when taking a seat, you knew you couldn’t just let this continue.

Especially since he took the seat farthest from you.

“Okay, now that we’re all here, how about we make a toast? C’mon everyone, let me see those glasses. Ross? Got it, buddy? Okay, I know we’ve had our differences, some bigger than others, so to speak, but tonight we’re putting those differences aside and — Y/N?”

“Sorry, just give me a sec,” you stood up and made your way towards Bucky. You didn’t care that practically everyone’s eyes were on you, you only cared about the blue ones that didn’t seem to acknowledge you until you took a seat on his lap.

You looped one arm around his neck, “I’m ready now, Tony.”

Then you zoned everything out. Everything except Bucky.

“You know only my wife can sit on my lap?”

“Good thing I’m her then.”

“Not tonight,” he replied in the same voice you spoke in earlier.

“Always,” you tightened your arm around him. “Always am, and you know that, Buck. I must’ve left it on the dresser.”

“You never leave it on the dresser,” Bucky pointed out. “You don’t even like taking it off. Never have. Not even when we shower or wash the dishes. Said you don’t feel right without it.”

“I don’t.”

“Y/N — “

“Handsome, I’m serious,” you looked down at him. “I don’t feel right without it, like I don’t feel right without you and knowing I have you. Don’t feel like I have you right now.”

Bucky sighed.

“It could’ve fallen too.”

Bucky shook his head and wanted to make a comment about how it couldn’t just fall off. It never had. Not when they went on missions or fought people or trained. It never fell off because Bucky – Bucky remembered measuring your finger at three a.m. while you were asleep months before he proposed to make sure it was perfect, that everything was perfect and that it fit. It couldn’t just fall off.

He thought maybe it conveniently fell off when Mark decided to speak with you.

You paused.

“You’re unbelievable, Buck,” you muttered. “You know very well that you’re the only man I could ever want, the only one I’d ever marry.”

“Can’t tell.”

“Can’t tell?”

“Can’t tell.”

And he was being childish, he knew. He knew that, but it didn’t stop him from feeling the way he did because a part of him – a part of him was convinced that you’d taken it off on purpose. That you were trying to show him that you didn’t want this, him, anymore, while the other part, well, that part of him thought it was ridiculous.

You’d only ever loved every part him since the moment you met.

"Can’t tell. Can’t tell. God, seriously, James?”

You were fuming.

Bucky could feel the heat radiating from your body.

“Why take it off then?”

“I didn’t take it off. I would never –’

“About to make a pretty big claim there, sweetheart.”

“It’s true.”

“Is it?”

You were staring at each other now.

“You know you’re gonna be real sorry when you sleep on the couch tonight.”

“Why? Mark taking my side of the bed?”

“James!”

“Are you two done?” Natasha whispered over. “Are you? Because there might be trouble in paradise right now, but this night is important to Steve so it’s important to all of us. Save the arguing for when we get home."

“Fine.”

“Ok.”

There was a brief moment of silence.

“Are you going to get off my lap?”

“Are you going to believe me?”

“Y/N — “

“James, I swear to — “

“What did I just say? Are you kidding? Were either of you even listening — “

Sam cleared his throat.

Neither of you stopped arguing.

He placed your ring on the table.

You stopped.

Bucky did too.

“Might have taken it after Barnes over here knocked that guy out cold.”

If looks could kill, Sam was a dead man because Bucky couldn’t stop glaring at him. Swore he drove a hole through birdman’s head from the intense death stare he was giving him. He knew he would never punch his friend, never, but God did Bucky want to punch something, anything. Preferably the wall. Or Mark. Again.

Bucky grabbed your ring.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he expressed.

“Like what?” you teased. “Like you’re sleeping on the couch tonight because you definitely are.”

Bucky shook his head, wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close to his chest.

“I deserve it.”

“Yeah," you breathed out. "Yeah you do.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“Mhm?” you trailed your finger from his forehead to his nose and down to his lips. “Love me even though we aren’t married anymore?”

“We’re always married.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby. Always.”

Then he kissed you. Intensely. Passionately. Enough to almost make you forget everything that happened tonight and enough to distract you from the feeling of the cool metal slipping back on your finger. Bucky muttered another I’m sorry through the kiss and followed it up with another love you so much and all you could do was kiss him harder, say love you more, and watch him pull back to look at you.

He pecked you three times on the mouth.

Natasha groaned, knowing damn well that they made no good impressions tonight.

A Twice Broken Man

summary: Knowing what will happen if Hydra ever captures him again, Bucky asks the impossible of you. The road to recovery is not an easy one.  pairing: bucky x reader warnings: smut (18+), canon level violence, mentions of torture, PTSD symptoms (nightmares, dissociative episode), suicidal thoughts, trauma recovery a/n: this is the dark and sad one I was warning you about. please check the warnings

There’s a hand on your forearm, a slight squeeze, and it takes you a minute to register that it is Bucky’s hand, that it is his thumb brushing in sweeps over the goosebumps on your skin. It’s cold, calloused, still as gentle as he’s ever been, but there’s a nervousness there, a hesitancy, and it runs like ice in your veins.

Time stands still for an impossible minute and you realize you’re taking too long to respond. Ocean blue eyes search yours with a cautious concern and you’re certain you’ve never heard anything worse than the request Bucky has just asked of you. Your stomach wretches as the words echoes in the back of your mind, threatening to tear you to pieces.

He parts his lips, hand trailing in gentle sweeping motions down your arm, and he asks again. 

“Sweetheart please. I can’t go back to them. If it ever comes to it, I need you to do this for me.”

You close your eyes. Tears sting over the bridge of your nose. He should have waited for another time to ask this. Not when you’re both laying between sheets, bare and flustered, hearts still racing, the feel of him lingering between your legs.

It’s an impossible question but he’s asking it anyway.

He’s asking for you to end his life.

Seguir leyendo

one of the key points of trauma recovery is learning to let go the idea of getting back to “who i was before”. your trauma has shaped you and that’s okay. recovery is learning how to live with what happened rather than getting rid of it, even if that feels impossible at the moment

the way I'm obsessed with "and I see your face in every crowd" "chasing shadows down the grocery line" "please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere" "I thought I saw you at the bus stop, I didn't though" because Taylor just perfectly encapsulates the feeling of a loved one turning into a stranger

so beautiful i love this so much 😭😭

CRYING IN LOVE

HARRY'S MASTERLIST

Summary: You love Harry so much that you burst into tears, and the cause of it is there to comfort you.

W/N: this is shit and the fastest thing i wrote after seeing harry's photos in italy and crying for how much i love him.

! | italy!harry, soft, soft and more soft, crying, just two people in love of each other, shitty ending.

━━━━━━━

Italy, you're so perfect.

With your perfect views, your climate and just the calm romantic air that you have, you're perfect.

But right now, Y/N thinks that the real perfection is by her side, on a balcony in Venice, playing with his hands like they have rings, but they don't, because it's late at night and he just wants to relax after the last day of filming.

Harry Styles.

With that name you cannot expect less, and you know that when someone with that name appears, they're ready to be the light in every room they walk in.

His hair is growing long enough that the curls she loves to caress so much are beginning to form, and his white shirt is open, showing the tattoos she often kisses. She also notices some little rolls on his tummy that she also loves to caress, telling him that it's the most beautiful body she has ever seen.

Because it's the truth, because Harry may not be perfect, but for her eyes, he is in every sense of the word.

He is physically perfect, because from the tips of his feet to the strands of his hair he's beautiful.

Because he has legs that she loves to use as a seat or as a pillow, they seem made so that only her body remains like a piece of a puzzle.

Because he has a torso and chest that she loves to kiss, scratch, and lay her head there, only to hear the sweet melody of a song composed solely of Harry's racing heartbeat, only for her.

And she knows that's the best song in the world, but she's selfish because she wants it for her ears only.

His arms are perfect for holding and hugging her, taking her away from the outside world.

His neck is perfect for her to hide her face there and left kisses that make him let out those sounds that she loves so much, like his jaw, so marked and with that sweet spot that she loves to bite.

And her favorite part might be his face.

His attentive green eyes, which look at her intently every time she opens her mouth to speak, under those two eyebrows that she loves to caress when Harry is frustrated or angry. His nose, which wrinkles and moves when he speaks, something he hates and she loves. And his lips, so pink and soft that she swears is the best her mouth could ever taste.

But Y/N is sure that what is outside is nothing compared to what is inside.

If she had to talk about how perfect Harry is on the inside, then she'd be on that balcony in Italy for years (which she wouldn't mind).

She would like to continue with this, but when the owner of her thoughts and heart speaks to her, she leaves her little world where everything has his face and name.

"Lovie, you're okay?" He gently caresses her knee, and he looks at her worriedly.

"Yeah, why?" Y/N answers, fixing her eyes with those green ones that now shine in the moonlight and the street lamps.

"You're crying."

And when she reaches out to touch her face and notices the waterfalls coming down non-stop, she understands.

"Oh."

"Yes, angel. Why are yeh crying, hm?" He asks her, leaving kisses on her wet cheeks, holding her in his warm arms just how he knows. "Something happened?"

"I- I..." She begins, feeling the itch in her nose.

But she can't complete the sentence, because the sobs coming from her throat are heartbreaking, and she feels almost ashamed.

"Oh, baby." Harry pulls her into her lap, hugging her so that she rests her head on his chest, clinging tightly to his shirt. "Shh, it's alright."

"I- I'm crying b- because i love you." Y/N answers, stuttering from crying, and the chestnut's grip intensifies. "I love you so much it hurts."

"Hey, look at me." He whispers, calm next to the gasps and sobs that escape her mouth. "I also love you so much that it hurts, my love, I've cried a million times thinking just how fucking lucky i am to have you."

"It's not fair." She says, and he laughs in love.

"What's not fair, bub?" He asks, stroking her legs with his thumbs, thinking about how soft her skin is.

"It's not fair that you're so perfect. God, Harry, you're so good, sweet, loving, and everything. I love you, I love you so much." She cries again, wrinkling her face in a way that she is sure must look horrible, but to him she's still the most beautiful woman in the entire world.

"You're perfect too, you're everything I've ever wanted and everything I'll ever want, I promise you that one day I will put a ring on your finger and we will have copies of us running around the house." Harry answers, sniffing at the same time his eyes start to cloud over. "Stop crying because you're making me cry."

"I'm sorry." She laughs, but the tears keep falling. "I'd drop everything for you, Harry."

"And I would do it for you, angel. I would leave the music, the fame and everything that was once my dream only if you asked me to, because you are my true dream."

"You know I would never do that, seeing you happy doing what you love makes me happy."

"I know, and I love you for it."

Now, both of them are crying of happiness, thinking about how they were so lucky to have each other. Maybe they're soulmates, maybe they have red invisible strings on one of their fingers, or maybe it was just fate.

They don't know what brought them together, but they do know that it was the best thing that could happen to both of them.

They're so perfect.

I like you, your eyes are full of language.

some people in fandoms really are like – “i think we need to focus more on men and women BEING FRIENDS.” and exclusively apply that to interracial couples.