Will you ever forgive me? [Evan Peters x fem! Reader]
WARRING: idk if that's a warring, but arguing with Evan?
Summary: you and Evan are in relationship for almost a year. One day you saw a picture of him, kissing a girl. You have a serious argument. Will you forgive him? Will you get back together?
Word count: 690
A/n: Hi there! This is my first fanfiction and I'm sorry for any mistakes because my English is not perfect. enjoy reading!
Part 1
You lie in the bed you share with Evan and scroll through Tik Tok. Suddenly, you saw a Tik Tok about Evan. It was some picture of him and some girl he's with. In the next one, they are.... they are kissing. Tears flow over your eyes. You quickly skip the video and wipe away the tears that run down your cheeks.
'When was he going to tell you about it?'
'Is she prettier?'
'Younger?'
'Richer?'
These types of thoughts came to your mind. You thought he loved you. Suddenly, the front door opens.
"Baby, i'm home!" Evan says. You get up and quickly check yourself in the mirror. You leave the room and walk down the stairs. You grin at the sight of him and walk up to him. He also smiles and hugs you, kissing you on the forehead. After a while, you pull away from each other. You look at his face. You can see that he is hiding something.
You swallow your saliva and say. "What do you want for dinner?"
He takes a moment to salivate and smiles slyly. "You," he replies and starts kissing your neck.
"Not today... I'm on my period..." You quickly think of something to avoid going to bed with him so soon.
IN THE EVENING.
Evan hasn't told you about the girl or the kiss all day. You take the matter into your own hands. You sit on the bed with him and watch a movie. You sigh and look at him. After a while, you say, "Can we talk?" Your voice shakes slightly. He turns off the TV and looks at you with a slight smile.
"Sure, what's going on?" He asks and puts his hand on your knee.
"When were you going to tell me about that fucking kiss?" You say And tears come to your eyes again.
He giggles and says "but what kiss?"
"Don't say you don't know what it's about, Evan. It's about that kiss with another girl, who is she?" You say, and tears start to run down your cheeks.
His smile faded, and he looked at me. "It's not what it looked like."
"It's not what it looked like?!" You raise your voice softly. "For once, tell me the truth."
"She kissed me."
"Really? I saw you holding her, and you were smiling after the kiss." You wipe away your tears.
He sighs and looks at the wall.
You shake your head and get out of bed. You take your phone and put it in the back pocket of your pants. You take your wallet, house and car keys, some more things.
"Where are you going?" Evan says And you could hear panic in his voice. "I'm sorry. Please don't leave me, y/n. We'll explain it to each other and go on with our lives and be happy as before. Please don't leave me. I love you. We will fix this together. From now on, it will be just you and me, I promise you that. I love you and only you. It was just a stupid mistake."
"Do you seriously love me? Because I, after this picture, doubt that word anymore." You say and leave the room, and Evan follows you.
You walk down the stairs, and he grabs you by your wrist. "Please. I love you the most in the world, my love. Don't leave me," he says. "Don't destroy us."
"Evan, you're the one who destroyed us, not me. Now let me go."
He lets go of you and follows you. You put on your shoes and jacket.
"Please. No, no, no... don't leave me alone." He says.
You grab the handle and open the door after which you look at him. He has tears in his eyes. You wipe away your tears and say, "It's over, Evan." You say and walk out.
"Will you ever forgive me?" He says.
"I don't know" you said and you go to your car and drive away.
you feel your phone vibrate. he texted you called you so many times to come back, that he misses you and how much he loves you and he is sorry. but you ignored them and did not write back.
get even ⁞⁞ cooper madsen x girlfriend!reader ⁞⁞ 18+ ; mdni ⁞⁞ vaginal sex, fluffy
the shower is running, steaming up the mirror. cooper, for all his stoicism, still hums under his breath in the shower, and the low baritone fills the room. when he pulls the curtain back, towel—heartbreakingly—wrapped tightly around his trim waist, you can’t help but fixate on the droplets of water that cling to his body.
“why are you standing there, babe?” he asks, peering at you through wet eyelashes. he doesn’t start when he sees you, used to surprise, maybe, or so attuned to you that your presence wasn’t a shock at all.
“Just admiring the view,” you shoot back, leaning back against the bathroom counter, not taking your eyes off his body. His build is kind of a miracle. Your gaze travels from his clavicle down his chest, then to his stomach, where a trail of sparse hair leads beneath the towel.
Now. You wouldn’t describe yourself as having a particularly high libido, nor as being abnormally needy, but there’s just something about Cooper that makes you feel crazy. You want to climb him.
He chuckles, moving to stand beside you in front of the mirror, bumping your hip with his playfully. You’re always grateful to catch glimpses of him like this in the moments between catastrophe that, due to his line of work, seem to be closing in on him more often than not.
You rest your head on his shoulder, turning around so that you’re facing the same direction as him, watching as he carefully shaves the stubble that’s begun to percolate his jaw with well-practiced, fluid motions.
Once his face is smooth, he puts the razor away, and moves to leave, but instead spins around, hands moving beneath your thighs and hoisting you up onto the counter. He leans in, face close to yours, hair still damp. “If you get to ogle me, I think it’s only fair that I get to look at you, too.” With that, he tugs your shirt over your head.
You let out a squeak and loop your arms around his neck. “Oh, of course. Only fair,” you tease.
Cooper’s lips skim your collarbone and neck, flying over your jaw and left ear, briefly lingering on your eyelid and cheek before landing on your mouth. He fumbles with the clasp on your bra for a second before getting it and flinging it over his shoulder comically, where it lands with your shirt in front of the shower.
You push the towel from his hips, and he pulls you closer until your legs come up, too, wrapping around his waist in place of the discarded towel. You giggle into the damp skin of his shoulder, scraping gently with your teeth.
His fingertips dance up the delicate skin on your inner thigh, and you gasp when they move up the final few inches. Cooper is kind of infuriatingly good when it comes to this. You don’t even stand a chance.
You shift your hips, chasing his movements.
He tuts, joking. “So eager.”
“Mm, shut up,” you mumble, “and fuck me.”
Never one to keep you waiting for too long, Cooper lines himself up, exacerbating just how intense your desire has become over the course of just the past few minutes. When he leans down to check in, you pout a little, and he captures your lips in a kiss before pushing in.
You moan into his mouth, and he echoes it, rolling his hips forward. One of his hands moves up, bracing himself against the mirror behind you and bracketing you in. You flick your tongue over the crook of his elbow, grinning when his arm gives way and he falls forward some five inches, forehead knocking into yours. Your glee is undercut, though, by the ensuing thrust, which makes your jaw drop open and your eyelids go heavy.
“Oh…mm…”
The hand that was braced on the mirror moves again, and then it’s spread over your lower back, keeping you in place as Cooper ramps up the speed.
With every roll of his hips, you see stars. Heat—real heat, not the fake, illusory warmth that collects in your fingertips whenever you see him—begins to pool in your lower stomach, drawing tighter.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” he says, and swears in French—or maybe Italian? You’re no linguist—holding you closer. He smells like sweat and shampoo and you think he’ll probably want another shower after this. “Fuck. You close, baby?”
“Mhm,” you say, closing your eyes. “Jesus Christ,” comes after, when he finds a particular spot inside you and begins, for lack of a better word, exploiting it.
He comes before you, but barely breaks pace, stuttering for a half-second before continuing hammering into you like a man on a mission, which you suppose he is. You follow a moment later, thighs shaking as you go limp in his arms.
Cooper peppers kisses along your hairline, stroking up and down your bare back with his big hands.
Once you’ve both recovered, he pulls back, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Shit. We’re dirty.”
You raise an eyebrow.
His smile breaks wider, and his eyes light up. He pulls out, and you grimace, then laces his fingers with yours, tugging you toward the shower.
You laugh and follow him easily.
tags: @z0mbunnyy @star-rey-night @butteronmynips @kylesdove @bohnerrific69 || lmk if you'd like to be added, removed, or if i've fucked something up :)
James was never fond of the idea of religion, his father was a very cruel man, the, "meanest son of a bitch," James had ever met. This disdain for religion continued for years, until you entered the hotel, because then you became his religion. His goddess. James really wanted to make you his from the start, it was difficult for him to process the idea of himself caring about something that much. Why did it have to be over some mere human? Why were you so beautiful? your presence was like a soft jazz melody to him, so demure and gentle, so fucking weak.
No, you weren't actually weak, he just pushed the weakness that you made him feel onto you, mostly because his fantasies about you stopped his thoughts of murder and carnage, which Liz had noticed, and teased him over, he hadn't acted that way since The Countess, and he threatened her over the incessant annoyance she caused him, not like he could do much, they were both ghosts, Afterall.
James could hardly stop himself from phasing into your room at night, watching your nightly ritual, shower, TikTok scroll, facetiming friends, sleep. He was mostly investigating to see why you were staying at this hellish hotel for so long, and he overheard you say something about it being a world death destination, which had apparently fascinated you, but that fact couldn't prepare him for you lighting candles and summoning him. James March, the Ten Commandments Killer, personally.
Did you have a death wish? what was wrong with you? what was wrong with him, was the more important question, seeing as he entertained your little summoning, he appeared behind you and cleared his throat, to which you whipped your head around, and saw none other than the man you wanted so badly to see.
James Patrick March.
"Darling, what could you possibly want to converse with a gruesome murderer such as myself for?" He said with his unfamiliar 1920s accent, it was like those old timey tv shows your grandparents always had playing in the living room, but less distorted, more real.
This was really happening.
"You... You're really here? I didn't actually believe-" he interrupted you.
"You had to have believed, seeing as you went out of your way to summon a dead serial murderer. Now, what is your goal in all this?" he cocked his head to the side, as if to further question your intentions.
"Well, all things dark and macabre have always interested me, and so I started visiting the worlds death destinations, and the Hotel Cortez was on that list... but also, as a teenager, I watched a lot of Billie Dean Howards seances, including the one here, and it drove me to want to investigate," you smiled up at him, and he suddenly pulled you up and held both of your hands.
"have you ever murdered a person, dove?" he asked the question as if it was the most normal thing in the world, and when you didnt answer, he pulled you closer and whispered, "would you like to?"
Kyle The Zombie Boyfriend [Kyle Spencer sub! Headcannons]
A/n: I am so sorry for how damn long this took to write, tumblrs ask system is very anti “out of sight out of mind” because I always forget the tab exists😛😛😛 but alas here I am with this headcannon list that I am kinda obsessed with and now I wanna write more for our loved zombie boy
Warnings: brief mention of Kyle’s mom, mentions of death, sexual implications
-The subtle kind of Submissve type, but he still will do anything you want in a heartbeat.
-Around his boys? No problem, it'd be an opportunity to teach his younger frat brothers how to treat a baddie like you
-100% has a praise Kink, tell Kyle how good he is at all times, because he Is.
-definitely calls you an authoritative pet name, maam/sir, momma/mommy… things along those lines
- He might even get brave and let a Momma slip while youre out. He cant help it~
- Requires Kises all the time if you had a shot for every time he asks for you to Kiss him in a day you'd die of alcohol poisoning
-When was youre alone he is the biggest baby he’s got a lot. going on for him and you let him finally be able to just relax.
-When he told you about his homelife and his history with his deviant mother, you offered that he can stay with you in your Janky appartment
- Totally dropped an I Love you First time you two Slept together, he wasnt aware Someone could Make him cum that hard
- He cooks you breakfast the next moming, and when he doesn’t make as much or a mess in the kitchen as you do you elect him as the Chef of the house
When Kyle was pronounced dead in the bus crash, your life basically ended too. Kyle had become such an important part or your life; and now…he was gone…
- or so you thought, because mere weeks after your boyfriends gruesome death... You get a Knock on your door - or maybe more-so a series of thumps at your door
-When you cautiously check the peephole you nearly fall to your knees because !!! Hello!!! your dead boyfriend is at your front door!!
- You immediatly notice the difference in Kyle. His once boisterous personality has been dulled down to A Zombie like State
-You had already been heart broken about how your boyfriend had left you on this earth, But now youre more concerned about who left him like this
-when he finally trusted you to help bathe him, you had leave the room when you noticed his frat brothers tattoos now on his body
• living with your zombie boyfriends really wasnt too hard, you loved him. You'd do anuthing for him.
🩵🩵🩵
Tag list (If you want to be added just comment!)
@chmpgneprblem
@qoopeeya
@sleepysongbirdsings
@magicalcowboyarbiter
@tadpoleteef
🩵🩵🩵
Copying or translating my writing is not allowed. If you see my work on another site it is stolen. Reblogs are appreciated and encouraged.
oohh the store is open! (reqs open hehe) hiii vi!! can you give me some fluff with julian dillinger?!! please. ♡
something like a fem!reader not used with so much money and surroundings with rich people, but (kinda) secretly she is dating julian! and then there's a moment someone try to act snobbish towards her while she's alone at some dillingers/rich people's event, this someone says like "you don't belong here" to her, and then suddenly julian just appears at her side and defends her. making the rude person go away and he just pass time with her!! 🌷
i would love to read smth like this!! sending a lot of love to u!! ♡♡
i've finally finished it!!! i am so so sorry it took forever, it was an oddly long amount of time taken for me to actually write this 😭 there was a major writers block moment that messed me up and then life got busy...
thank you sm for your patience and for being my first request! i hope this isn't too bad for a julian fic (lowk worried he's a bit out of character but its ok i guess 💔)
JULIAN DILLINGER fish out of water
tags/warnings: fem!reader x julian, protective Julian, some fluff!!, no use of y/n, idk its kinda corny im sorry guys 😭😭
wc: approx. 1k words!
Rumors had been going around recently about Julian Dillinger and a supposed secret lover — little tabloid articles and speculations circled all around it. Julian hadn’t spoken up about it since the whole thing started which left the general public to continue their speculation. Maybe it was that colleague he was spotted with by paparazzi, or the model he had been on a magazine cover with just a few weeks ago.
No, actually it was just you; you who were practically a ‘nobody’ among high elite names that Julian’s belonged to. Some of Julian’s closer associates vaguely knew of you because he’d mention you every now and then but they didn’t know you. You didn’t really know how you managed to get yourself in this position as a half-secret lover that people were buzzing about. You were still quite uncomfortable with the idea of revealing yourself to the public eye, considering you knew a lot of the time there was excessive criticism towards anyone who fell even slightly short of being perfect — and you believed you were far from reaching celebrity level perfection.
When Julian had invited you to go with him to some fancy gala to represent Dillinger Systems, you’d been very hesitant to accept but Julian had managed to sweet talk you into at least showing up without having a ‘big entrance’. So there you were, standing in a nice dress feeling slightly out of place among the prestigious guests around you. Julian was talking amongst the other guests beside you for a bit while you gave polite smiles. It was safe to say there was a bit of an awkward bridge to gap when you’d talk to his associates and friends, but at least there were drinks and snacks to keep you company through it.
Julian had gone off to talk with some other important business associate which left you alone in the middle of a small group of people when one of the older ladies began talking to you out of the blue.
“Gosh, you are just so quiet, aren’t you?” She chuckled, which made you raise a brow. “She looks like a lost puppy, doesn’t she?”
“Uh, well, this is my first time being at a big thing like this.” You gave an awkward smile back.
That made a few of the others laugh, which you didn’t really understand why because you didn’t think there was anything funny with what you said; it was a simple, honest response, nothing funny about it.
“You must feel so overwhelmed by all the glamorous things here, aren’t you? Poor girl, can barely even comprehend this kind of wealth.” One of the others brashly commented.
“Excuse me?”
“It’s very obvious, sweetheart. This isn’t the kind of place you normally belong to.”
As you stood there, half-speechless and trying to figure out what to say to the people around you, Julian seemingly came out of the blue and stepped in quickly. “Who says she doesn’t? She’s my partner, I brought her here, so why would she not belong?”
The group’s chuckles became silent when Julian finished talking. He looked over at them with an expectant look on his face like he wanted them to answer; the first lady who spoke gave an uncomfortable glance, the man next to her turning away to his drink.
“Do any of you remember exactly who you’re talking to?” Julian continued haughtily. “I am the CEO of Dillinger Systems. I’m above all of you, which means I’m your superior, also making my girlfriend your superior. And I should expect her to be treated with respect when I’m not around.”
The tense silence lingered on as Julian’s words hung in the air among the other socialites. They were all quite sheepish now, just waiting to see who would pop the bubble first and say something — no one seemed to want to be the one popping it.
“Hmm, that’s funny. Nobody wants to talk anymore when I come back.” Julian placed a hand on your back to guide you away from the small bunch of people. “Well, if we can’t find any respect around here and no one has anything else to say, we’ll see ourselves out then.”
Once the two of you had left the group and were out of earshot, Julian was obviously irritated to you despite his efforts to maintain a formal attitude about the event. You two were walking through a less crowded area of the main gala so it wasn’t like it mattered much to him that he was visibly annoyed.
“Some people seriously need to learn when to talk. It’s always some bullshit with the people that come here.” He sighed in irritation.
“You don’t say.” You laughed through your nose.
“I think I’m clocking out on talking to these idiots for the rest of the night.” Julian stopped to get a new glass of champagne. “Do you want any more champagne, babe?”
“No, I’m good.”
Julian nodded then took a sip of the alcohol, resting his arm over your waist, “I can’t wait until this thing is over. Press has been on my ass since we got here and I’m tired of them asking the same five questions about you.”
“That does sound boring and all but I thought you liked talking about me.” You teased and he gave your hip a little pinch.
“Yeah, I do, but the questions are very limiting.”
“Oh, right, right.”
“I’m being serious! It’s always something like ‘who are you with tonight?’ and then I answer and when I try to elaborate more they’re already movin’ on to the next question! It’s a total drag.”
You grinned and nodded, “Definitely.”
“Why don’t you try answering the dumb reporters’ questions then? There’s probably a few around here, so go ahead–” Julian nudged you over in the direction afar from where a couple of reporters were.
“No, no, no, I am perfectly fine. Nope, no dumb reporter questions.”
Julian teasingly smiled back. “That’s what I thought, babe.”
ya again i hope this wasn't too bad cuz i tried my best i also apologize if the ending felt kinda rushed this is definitely not my best work 🥹
husband!kit walker x pregnant wife!reader.
🍵 ‼️: domestic fluff. set in the 1960s. pregnancy. a bit of pregnancy moodswings. pregnancy cravings (ice cream).
a/n: my first time writing for kit. he finally makes his debut in my account!
📖summary: your pregnancy cravings strike, sending your husband on a late night ice cream hunt.
It’s deep in the night, that time where the only thing you can hear is the ticking of the clock and Kit’s soft breathing while deep asleep beside you. Meanwhile you lay there, hands resting on the swell of your belly, eyes open, staring blankly at the ceiling.
You try ignoring it at first. You really do. Sleep is what you and the baby really needs.. But ice cream sounds better.. You gently turn your body to the side, lifting your head from the pillow to figure out what ungodly hour your pregnancy cravings decided to strike.
Kit felt your movement, he hummed softly, half asleep. His arm that was gently draped around you moves to give your hips a soft squeeze and gently tries to pull you closer to him again. “Don’t be movin’ around too much, honey. You’re gonna fall.” He murmurs sleepily.
He’s so sweet.. Still very caring for his pregnant wife even though sleep’s still clinging to him. Maybe he’d also be very generous to go on an ice cream hunt for his pregnant wife even at this ungodly hour.
“..Kit.” You whisper. His eyes opens slightly, lifting his head from his pillow. “Somethin’ wrong, honey?” He asks, his voice raspy as his gaze travels over you to make sure that nothing’s wrong. You turn your head to look at him in the eyes. “I’m craving ice cream.” He blinks at your response. “Right now..?” He asks. “The baby does.” You reply, convincing him that the baby has decided that ice cream at this time of the night is a necessity.
Light’s now on and you’re sitting on the bed, watching Kit putting on his work jacket over his pajamas. He’s getting ready for the late night ice cream hunt for his pregnant wife. You then slowly stood up, walking to him. “Kit, I can come with you.” You suggest as you suddenly feel bad for sending your husband out at this time of the night just for ice cream. Kit turns his head to look at you, he shakes his head with a small reassuring smile on his lips. He places a hand on the small of your back as he passes by you to grab his car keys on the nightstand. “Not happenin’, honey.”
You frown at his response. “I feel bad..” It’s that pregnancy moodswing suddenly kicking in. “Why?” He asks. “Well, I’m sending you out at this time of the night because of a random craving.” You added as you continue to watch him move around. He just let out a chuckle at that. “That’s kinda how this works.”
Your brows were still a bit furrowed but a small smile appears on your lips because of how understanding he is. Every day, in ways both big and small, he always makes you feel how lucky you are.
“Now get back under those covers, I’ll be back before you know it.” He makes his way to guide you to the bed, but you stop him. “Can I wait for you in the living room instead?” He nods with a smile as he starts to guide you to the living room. “Wherever my wife’s comfortable.”
He sat you down on the couch before rushing back to the bedroom. When he came back, he was carrying your blanket. Without a word, he drapes it gently over your shoulders. “Drive safely, honey.” you remind him. “Yes, ma’am.” He replies before giving your lips a quick peck.
With that, he exited the house and made his way to his truck while lighting a cigarette. “Gotta fulfill my husband duties.” He speaks to himself, a fond smile on his lips as he starts the engine.
The drive to the nearest all-night diner was peaceful. Now he’s out of his truck, heading to the door of the diner with an ‘open’ neon sign attached to it. The bell above the door chimes when Kit walks in, informing the half asleep staff that someone had come in.
“What can I get ya, buddy?” The staff asks, rubbing his eyes. “Just some ice cream in a tub.” Kit spoke, taking out his wallet. “You drivin’ around this hour just for a tub of ice cream?” The staff chuckles, making his way to grab a tub of ice cream. Kit shakes his head, a small chuckle escaping his lips. “Pregnant wife emergency, buddy.”
When he finally got the ice cream, he drove home with a small proud smile on his lips. He completed one of the most random missions he gotta do as a husband with a pregnant wife. He then finally arrives, he parks his truck and makes his way to the door of the house.
“I’m back, honey!” He announces as he throws his keys on the kitchen counter and makes his way to grab a spoon for you.
"Kit?"
“Yeah, honey?” He asks as he starts to make his way to you.
“I want strawberries on them.”
Kit froze. Oof, looks like his mission is not finished yet. He then lets out an amused chuckle at that. He’s already tired but he’s committed.“Anythin’ else?” He asks, making his way back to the kitchen. “Maybe a drizzle of honey?” He felt like the baby’s gonna be that type of baby that has lots of requests once it leaves your womb. “Got it, chef.”
“This baby is making me a whole culinary project at 3am.” He mumbles to himself while slicing strawberries. However, this whole thing is amusing him rather than pissing him off.
After finishing your request, he makes his way to you, sitting beside you while carefully holding a bowl of scooped ice cream topped with strawberries and a light drizzle of honey. “Custom order for Mrs. Walker.” He takes a scoop and brings it close to your lips. Proof that he’s never too tired to take care of his wife.
You married the right man.
likes/reblogs/comments are very much appreciated! 🫶
🍵 taglist: @bohnerrific69 @sempiternalbeauty @ethereallmonkey @zoe-benson-rp (lmk if anyone else wants to be added!)
Hi! It's my first time seeing your account and your headcanons about Peter are amazing and so creative. Can you please maybe make something out of that part where you mentioned that Peter is an unconscious hugger? Anything will do. I couldn't stop thinking about it!!! 🫠🤭
subconscious
bf!peter maximoff x gn!reader.
🍵 ‼️: 677 words. hurt/comfort. peter and reader had an argument.
a/n: thank you for the very very kind words anon!!!! sorry i was a bit slow w this one 🥹, couldn't get to post it the past few days but here it is! i hope you like it!
📖 summary: peter tries his very best to try to make it up to you after a mini argument but turns out all you needed is for him to unconsciously hug you and mutter repetitive apologies during his sleep.
He tried so hard to stop you from sulking after the argument; clinging, apologizing, trying to make you laugh. Yet none of it worked on you. Eventually, you fell asleep still carrying the frustration from your argument. He blames himself, he can’t believe he let you fall asleep while mad at him.
So he stands there, completely still in disappointment while looking at your sleeping form. He can see the tension in your shoulders even as you sleep. Your back was also even facing his side of the bed, ouch.
With that, he just lets out a sigh before laying down beside you. He lays down, straightly and completely still, giving you the space you need from him. “Sorry baby, boyfriend of the year, huh?” He murmurs to himself, his heart completely heavy in his chest as he closes his eyes. Guess there's nothing he could do about it anymore today.
However, Peter’s body betrayed him in his sleep. He moves a lot in his sleep, always a restless sleeper. Sometimes you swear that he’s trying to push you off the bed. Though tonight, he does the exact opposite.
You stir awake faintly in the middle of the night. You feel a warmth that does not come from the blanket covering you. Your brows furrow in confusion, you blink your eyes as you glance down.
At some point during the night, he had somehow crossed the distance he tried so hard to maintain. His arm is now around your waist, face now buried against your shoulder, and a leg tangled with yours under the blankets.
“Sorry..” He suddenly mumbles, barely audible. Your eyes widen a bit as you look at his face, he’s deep asleep while apologizing and clinging onto you. “Didn’t mean it.” He mumbles again as his fingers unconsciously curl lightly into your shirt. “Hng.. Babe, sorry, babe..” You saw how the crease between his eyebrows deepens as he continues to apologize in his sleep.
The argument was haunting him even in his sleep.
You almost laugh, but then he shifts again, his grip tightens even more. “Love you.. Really..” He mumbles and squeezes your body gently in his arms. Your chest aches. You feel bad that you slept mad at him and didn’t even give him a chance to make it up to you.
Slowly, you fully turn to him and bury your face on his neck. You let out a breath that you didn’t realize you had been holding in. The furrow in his brows immediately softens, like it’s all he also really needs to calm his mind down.
Actions are better than words, anyways.
When morning comes, you’re the first to wake up. Your elbow presses into the mattress as you prop your head up while quietly looking down at Peter. Peter wakes up, panicking. He blinks multiple times. “Okay I can explain–” he tries to sit up, his voice raspy from sleep. Every memory from yesterday comes rushing back. The argument, the failed apologies..
You unexpectedly run your fingers through his disheveled silver hair, fixing it. Peter freezes, but deep inside, it actually starts calming him down. “Your hair’s so cute.” You whisper softly. Peter blinks.. He's thinking; Is this a dream? However, he hopes it's not. He hopes that he’s finally forgiven.
“You know..” Peter starts carefully, looking up at you gently, there’s still worry in his eyes. “I had this whole apology speech prepared..”
“Well.. I had several. Most of them were terrible.” He confessed gently.
“I could tell.” You respond along with a soft chuckle that he had been dying to hear since yesterday. “So instead, you decided to hug me and apologize in your sleep.”
Peter's eyes widened a bit at that. “I– did..?” He asks, amused at what you told him. You nod at that, a smile on your lips. There it is, that smile he had also been waiting for since yesterday. Finally.
A slow smile of relief starts to form on his lips.
“Holy shit. At least that worked.”
likes/reblogs/comments are very much appreciated! 🫶
🍵 taglist: @bohnerrific69 @sempiternalbeauty @ethereallmonkey @zoe-benson-rp (lmk if anyone else wants to be added!)
Peter celebrates father's day, even if he isn't exactly in the mood for it.
Content warnings: infertility and pregnancy loss are mentioned/alluded to. Read at your own discretion.
You and Peter had been bumping uglies for an insanely long time. Admittedly, most of the time, it was because the act felt good. Sex is awesome, duh.
But in these last few years of your marriage, the two of you had been doing it for a reason: reproduction. And though doctors had told you at the start these things took time…
…well, you hated how his heart broke with every negative and every loss you two faced (six. You'd counted, six separate times, you'd had to face that miserable truth). And though he tried to hide it, remaining positive for your sake, you knew it was killing him.
So a trip to the doctors was a necessity.
And unfortunately, it was nothing but bad news.
Maybe it was your mutation, maybe it was just random bad luck, maybe it was something shitty the universe was throwing at you both. For whatever reason, you couldn't get pregnant. Not with Peter. Not with anyone. Not ever.
So… the two of you had to face reality. Kids weren't an option. And after many painful nights of crying and talking things out, the pair of you slowly began to accept that fact.
-
…Father's day wasn't really Peter's favourite holiday. But in the last few years, he'd managed to tell Erik about their connection, and… well, hey.
“So,” Erik mused aloud in the cramped little bar.
Peter hummed, looking up from his drink. He twirled that little silver band on his ring finger, meeting his father's gaze. He slowly started to sip from his drink.
(Father, that word felt… so strange on his tongue…)
“...are you and your wife planning on having any-”
Peter spluttered up before Erik could even finish the question, beer sliding down the wrong way. Erik immediately jolted into action, rubbing circles into Peter's back.
“-oh sweet, oh for-”
Erik groaned, cursing in rushed Polish under his breath.
“Forgive me, Pietro-”
Peter tensed. Very few people called him that. At this point, it was mostly just his mom. And even then, it was saved for when she was truly pissed.
“-ah, I'm…”
“-no, no. You just, uh…” He cleared his throat. “You caught me off guard is all…”
The two men fell silent, sat at the small booth they'd secluded themselves to. Neither knew what to say, tension building between them both.
“Uh, we… we did want kids,” he admitted. “At… one point, but…”
Six different losses, times waking up to the sight of blood, to that helplessness as he rushed you to the bathroom, to being unable to fix your pain, and having to bury down his own.
He let out a halfhearted chuckle, shaking his head.
“...life didn't pan out that way…”
-
They didn't talk about much else after that, preferring to sit in silence with awkward small talk offered every now and then, before things got late, and Peter yearned to go home.
Despite being in the middle of summer, the night felt cold. He could see families celebrating - dads walking their kids home from dinner, taking them half asleep out of cars, doing things he'd longed to do for some time.
But, no matter. It wasn't going to happen. He'd just have to accept it. A lifetime with you was honestly worth more than a million kids.
And as he made his way up to your shared apartment, that's where he saw you: comfortable, soft, curled up on an old armchair you'd planned to use in a nursery at some point.
“Hey, you,” you grinned, holding your arms out.
“Hey,” Peter whispered back, his voice soft as rain.
You welcomed him into an embrace, and he sank to his knees obediently.
“You enjoy your afternoon with Erik?” You asked, fingers threaded through his soft, silvery hair.
Peter nodded, his face nestled into your lap. It was honestly the most adorable the speedster had ever looked: content, relaxed, resting…
You bit your bottom lip, suppressing a giggle.
“Happy father's day, baby,” you whispered.
He simply hummed back, his hand resting on your thigh, thumb swiping up and down…
“...of course, you won't be able to actually celebrate until next year…” you added, grinning wide as he bolted upright.
Peter's eyes widened. He studied you thoroughly, focusing upon every detail he could, dragging his eyes along your body.
“-you mean-?”
You nodded, “uh-huh.”
He couldn't help the smile growing on his lips.
“And… and its-?”
You nodded again.
Well, what could he do, other than kiss you stupid and hold you close?
When you accept an internal promotion at Dillinger Systems, you find yourself working closely with the notorious Julian Dillinger.
Neither of you is particularly good at hiding your disdain for each other, but after butting heads for months, one evening changes the course of your relationship forever.
Info: Slow burn, Enemies to Lovers, Takes place before Tron Ares, First chapter of an ongoing fic, Crossposted from AO3
Word Count: ~1.5k
a/n: I have literally zero idea on how you people make your Tumblr posts look so pretty but I'll figure it out someday. Anyway, hi!! I'm an AO3 writer and I thought I would post the first chapter of my fic of the same name on here as a little introductory thingy so my profile isn't completely blank.
If you enjoy this chapter, you can find the rest of the fic HERE. Its current word count at time of posting is ~70k, hence only the first chapter being posted on here. I hope you enjoy and I apologise for any weird formatting mistakes, idk what I'm doing!
As soon as you stepped into the headquarters of Dillinger Systems -- a tall, imposing skyscraper protruding from the city skyline -- you just knew you had most likely made a terrible decision. The weather was grey and overcast, giving the area a hostile atmosphere, almost like it was trying to warn you of the error you had made. Autumn was beginning to wane to usher in winter, meaning the days were starting to gradually shorten. The expansive car park you had just left remained eerily quiet, the type of quiet that should be impossible in a city of this size, with biting wind rattling the building's glass doors being the only audible ambience around.
Julian Dillinger’s reputation preceded him: brilliant, egotistical, technophile, genius. All qualities needed to be a successful CEO of a Fortune 500 tech company. However, the word the press and shareholders seemed to use the most to describe Dillinger was ruthless.
Dillinger had gone through several personal assistants in as many months, something you wish you had known before accepting the promotion, and now it was your turn. You took a moment to look up into the sky to try to see the top of the building with no luck. The seemingly endless floors of the building really made you reconsider going inside. You should turn around. You should leave. It’s not too late.
You had worked at Dillinger Systems for as long as you could remember and gradually climbed the ranks to become the manager of your department, being held in high regard on your floor. You had kept your subordinates happy and on task; you were always kind with them while somehow maintaining a perennial firmness.
Your popularity and effectiveness had clearly gotten you noticed by higher-ups within the company, who had quickly shortlisted you as the potential new assistant for your notorious CEO. Originally, you had wanted to decline the offer -- after all, you really did care for your team -- but the promise of a tremendous pay rise had ended up being far too enticing for you to resist. As soon as you had accepted the job offer, your superiors appeared to be relieved, not that they would ever admit it. Whether that was because they themselves wanted nothing to do with Dillinger, you couldn't tell. Now, you're facing your first day at a new job in a new building, less than a week after handing in your resignation, much to the dismay of your previous team.
Every noise seemed to be amplified in the dark lobby of the headquarters, echoing off the high, soulless ceilings as if to maintain the façade of the hectic buzz of city life. Though the building was clearly populated with employees, there was a contagious loneliness that seeped into the very core of your being. Nobody here appeared to be friends, just familiar strangers; everyone so clearly focused on whatever task they had been assigned that they didn't even stop to say ‘hello’ to -- let alone acknowledge -- anyone in the lobby, which was the polar opposite of what you were used to in your old division of Dillinger Systems.
You looked around and spotted a large, open reception area with a handful of employees going about their professional duties, be it answering phones or greeting visitors, if there are ever any visitors to greet. As you walked up to the desk, a tired but friendly-looking young man caught your eye. You gave him a small smile before greeting him, hoping he didn't notice the discomfort tattooed across your face.
“Hi there, I'm y/n. I'm a new assistant here?”
The young man looked up at you, smiling widely, though a flicker of pity flashed in his previously warm eyes before settling back into a comforting friendliness.
“Ah! Ms l/n, right? We've been expecting you. I’ll call someone down to bring you up and show you around.” He quickly typed out something on his computer before looking back at you to make some small talk.
“So, first day, huh? You nervous?” He asked. Usually, you would relax in the presence of such an outgoing person, but you found the juxtaposition of his affable nature with the stifling black… everything of the lobby to put you on edge.
“Wouldn’t everyone be? This is a once-in-a-lifetime promotion. I just really want to do a good job.” You tried to give a friendly chuckle, but it came out sounding more like a choke.
“Have you been with Dillinger Systems long? Or are you new here?”
Your lips twitched up into a half-smile. “No, I’ve been with the company for a long time now. I worked in the offices downtown as a manager.”
“That’s great!” The receptionist seemed to relax at this information, not that you had noticed how tense he was beforehand. “So, I take it you've dealt with Mr Dillinger before?”
“No, actually. I’ve neither seen nor spoken to him before. Today will be my first time meeting him.”
An unreadable expression crossed the man’s face as he, now visibly, tensed up again. The fact that you had never even come across the damn CEO you'd be directly working under seemed to completely stump him. Maybe even concern him.
“Oh! That’s … surprising.”
“W-well,” you managed to blurt out, “Mr Dillinger wasn’t involved with the department I worked in. I was in the office downtown.”
You and the young receptionist looked at each other for a while, the silence feeling ever more suffocating as it continued. Thankfully, a woman who couldn’t be much older than you appeared at your side, forcing a smile that ended up looking more like a grimace.
“You’re y/n, right? I’m Nastya. I’ll be showing you around.” Nastya was an elegant woman who clearly took pride in being seen as a professional. Her brunette hair was pulled back into a tight braid that finished just below the top of her spine, with a well-made -- albeit fake -- pearl necklace to accessorise her pale skin. She wore bright red lipstick in a way that you thought resembled the makeup a flight attendant would wear.
“Good luck, Ms l/n!” The receptionist said, snapping your attention back to him once more. Even though the words were never said, you could have almost heard the undertones of “you’re gonna need it.”
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
The number of floors in this building became very apparent when you and Nastya stood in the lift. She handed you a key card hanging from a lanyard as she explained your new workplace.
“You’re on the fiftieth floor,” she started. “This is your key card. It’ll identify you, and we’ve already set it up with correct security clearances; however, you may find that Mr Dillinger updates or changes them at a later date. This also allows you to clock in and clock out -- so do not lose it.”
“Fiftieth floor? Got it.” You acknowledged as you hastily pulled on your lanyard. Nastya was already a tall woman, but her block heels made her look like a giant towering over you, with pursed lips and an unbreakable stare. You wondered if her intimidating stature was on purpose.
Nastya brushed off your acknowledgement like you didn’t even say anything. “There’s a small cafeteria on this floor, so you won’t need to travel to get lunch. Lunch is usually one to two o'clock, but that could be different for you as Mr Dillinger will dictate when you can leave.”
The doors of the lift opened, revealing a populated floor devoid of any human emotion. The walls, like the lobby, were a glossy black with most of the natural light from the massive glass windows being immediately absorbed by them. The light fixtures looked more decorative than anything else, the epitome of form over function, and you dreaded to think how dark this floor would be in the upcoming short winter days.
Every single office cubicle seemed soulless -- any attempt at decorating or personalising the desk spaces now sat clearly neglected. All the employees typed away at keyboards robotically with minimal chattering; the monotony of the bullpen was only broken up by the occasional sound of a photocopier or a cough.
Nastya stepped ahead of you and led you through the centre of the office without a single person in the cubicles looking up as you walked past. The two of you may as well have been invisible. You could’ve walked through naked, and you still doubted that anybody would have looked up from their computer screens. You both came to stop in front of a wooden door with a metal label affixed, the name clearly scratched out. Whoever was responsible for making these signs had clearly given up on the constant engraving, most likely since Dillinger had gone through so many assistants in so few months.
“This will be your home for the length of your tenure,” Nastya stated as she opened the door. She revealed an unspeakably barren office with, unsurprisingly, black walls. It contained only a desk, a computer, a small paper bin in the corner, and a chair. If you felt a little more secure, you probably would have told Nastya that you'd seen more welcoming spaces in prisons.
“But… I’m Dillinger’s assistant, right? Surely I should be working in the same space as him?” You asked.
Nastya gave you a cautionary look. “In most places, yes, you’d be correct -- but that’s not how Mr Dillinger likes to work. You’ll come in the morning and meet with him, then once more at the end of your shift. It’s unlikely you’ll come across him any more than that. He’ll mostly communicate with you via text.”
You looked at her thoughtfully. “You seem to know a lot about this role. How come you’re not doing it?”
She pointedly ignored your question. “Right. You’ve seen all that you need to. I’ll hand you over to Mr Dillinger now. Follow me.” Her tone left no room for argument, and her desire to get out of there as soon as possible was palpable. Nastya led you to another door at the end of the corridor, more formidable-looking than anything else you’d seen in this building. Perhaps that’s because you knew what was lying in wait behind it. Though most doors in this office you had seen you could assume to be manufactured wood, you didn’t doubt that this door in particular was real walnut. It looked heavy-duty and luxurious with a very neatly engraved golden nameplate: ‘Julian Dillinger - CEO’. This private office had no windows on the outside, so there was no way to see anyone -- if anyone was even in there -- occupying it. If you were to have pictured the type of office a man like Julian Dillinger would have, this was definitely it. Private. Uninviting. Clean.
A sharp set of knocks brought you back from your thoughts as you noticed Nastya’s knuckles against the door, waiting for a second before she turned back to look at you.
“Use your lanyard. You have the clearance.”
You quickly fumbled for the key card hanging around your neck, holding it up to the scanner to the side of the door frame. The light went green, and an audible click was heard, signalling that the door was now unlocked. Nastya opened it and stepped in, with you quickly following suit.
The office was dark. Very dark. There was a noticeable absence of natural light in here, the ability to see only being provided by the dim glow of numerous screens and a scattering of lamps emitting a warm orange glow. A handful of decorations were placed sparsely around the large room in an attempt at personality, though it couldn’t have appeared any more impersonal if you had tried. Unlike the bull pen just a few feet away, this room clearly valued more function than form. In the centre of the office stood a sizable desk which appeared to be clear of any objects, bar a glass bottle and a pen pot. A man sat behind it tapped at its surface as if something absolutely captivating was on it.
“Mr Dillinger?” Nastya spoke with a discernible fear behind her, and you caught her voice quivering for the first time. “Your new assistant is here.”
The man finally looked up from his desk, a nearby lamp casting deep shadows over his face.
“Finally.” He grumbled.
He stood up and walked over to you, giving you a better look at him. His physical appearance didn't warrant any of the apprehension in Nastya’s voice. He’s lean -- lean but not gangly by any stretch of the imagination -- standing at an average height and dressed in a sharp, black suit. Under the warm artificial light, Dillinger still managed to appear cold -- his sharp features drawing attention to his deep brown eyes and scornful gaze. His hair was equally as dark as his eyes, frozen in shape in a way that erased any potential gentleness in his appearance, which would have come in the form of soft curls had he not gelled them in place. Dillinger glanced at Nastya before looking straight back at you with indifference.
“Y/n.” You quickly stated, holding out your hand without any second thought.
He studied you for a moment before eventually deciding to clasp your hand, allowing you to notice the bracelets and numerous rings he had adorned himself with.
“Julian. Dillinger.” Julian held your gaze in something you could only assume was an act of dominance assertion. His grip didn’t falter, holding your hand firmly. It almost felt like you had to tear your hand from his to get him to finally let go of you. “I take it Nastya has given you the tour?”
“Yes, she --” You turned to gesture to Nastya, now realising she had disappeared into the ether and abandoned you in the company of Julian Dillinger. “She showed me the floor.”
“Good.” He said, swiftly placing his arms behind his back, straightening himself. “I assume you don't have any questions?” It sounded more like a threat than a query; he really didn’t want to ask any further questions.
“What will I be doing?” You asked. A fair question. After all, nobody had yet explained to you what your responsibilities would be as Dillinger’s personal assistant. Julian’s jaw twitches.
“Well,” he started. “The usual expected things. Sort my emails, arrange my appointments, bring me coffee when I ask… Quite obvious, I fear.” He gave you a condescending smirk.
Julian abruptly spun on his heel to head back to his desk, sitting behind it and tapping on its surface again. You watched with interest. What the hell was he doing? He glanced up and appeared to notice your curiosity, the corner of his lips turning up.
“My computer is in the desk,” he stated simply. His fingers danced across the desk for a few more moments as he addressed you again.
“There. I’ve emailed you everything you need to do today. I will speak to you again at the end of your shift.” Julian’s words cut straight to the point, leaving no room for further conversation.
SUJWDIJFKF STOP 😭 I ALREADY THOUGHT OF THAT, THANKS FOR SENDING THIS!!! peter would have all kind of animals if it was possible 😞💖
i remember last year, after i watched the superman movie and it was a hypertrain about it, i couldn't stop thinking about a scenario where peter would have his superdog 🥹 imagine a dog that could practically move with superspeed just like peter!!?!
he finds the doggie in a space mission or in a mission where they (x-men) went into a criminal experimentation lab from enemies and he founds the doggie there. the dog keeps following peter and the simply consensus, the team agrees with peter taking care and keeping the dog. — now imagine the amount of havoc him and the dog would cause, specially the dog (like trying to catch kurt's tail lol), and peter would have to run around to keep it in line and teach it tricks and commands. 🥺💗
peter would be such a nice pet dad 😭💖
(i lowkey still want to draw this but i'm afraid of drawing man or peter, and being damn ugly bc it's been a while since i drawed a man and idk if i could make peter looks like peter lol)
pairing : james patrick march x wife!reader info : vignette, mostly comedy word count : 0.4k tag : @v-inthecortez
The question was, in James Patrick March's opinion, one of the most catastrophically inelegant questions ever posed within the walls of his hotel. He looked genuinely offended by it, clasping a hand over the lapel of his blazer.
The longue of the hotel was eerily empty while you reclined beside him on the velvet sofa, thoroughly entertained already. Liz Taylor, standing nearby, leaning on the bar counter with the exhausted expression of a woman who had long since accepted that this was her life now, pinched the bridge of her nose.
James adjusted his cufflinks with painstaking dignity. “My dear,” he said at last, sounding scandalized, “....must attraction always be reduced to anatomy? What a tragically modern affliction.”
Liz, who asked the question, laughed. “So that’s a no?”
“It is a rather refined answer in contrast to the absurdity of the question.” James corrected smoothly. “A woman’s allure resides in details, Lizzy. One must think of the elegance of her posture, the intelligence of her wardrobe, the subtle artistry of perfume. Ah! Gloves, especially. As well as a well-tailored silhouette. There is nothing more sensual than a turn of a wrist while holding a wine glass.”
You raised your husband a brow. “You sound eighty years old.”
“In fact, I am one hundred-and-thirty.” he protests, making Liz snort loudly into her drink.
James continued as though he were lecturing at university. “True beauty lies in presentation, eliciting grace and mystery. The essence of a true seductress lies in her ability to suggest confidence beneath tease, much like a burlesque.” He gestured faintly toward you without even looking in your direction. “For instance, my wife possesses extraordinary taste in fabrics such as velvet, silk, and structured gowns-”
“She asked what body part you liked best,” you interrupted, trying not to laugh.
“And I am telling you,” James said with perfect seriousness, “...that class eclipses physical preference every time.”
The room dissolved into amused murmurs. You shook your head, smiling into your wine glass as you stood from the sofa.
“Such a gentleman,” you teased, cocking an exasperated sigh towards his path.
“Finally, the recognition I merit.” he quipped.
You rolled your eyes and turned to walk away toward the ballroom doors, silk draping elegantly around your figure as the chandeliers caught in your jewelry. "I think I've had enough to drink. I'll be upstairs if you still need me to entertain your lecture on class."
James, obsessed as he is, watches you leave the room, a pause in his informative tangent on how elegance overpowers indecency.
Then, very subtly, his gaze dropped for half a second at the sway of your hips, showing him the slight shake of your buttocks beneath the silk posterior of your dress before a smug little smirk curled at the edge of his mouth.
Liz, not needing her observational skills as a bartender, saw it immediately. “Oh, you hypocrite.”
James didn’t even blink, he simply lifted his drink with aristocratic composure, brows raised in false nonchalance as he tried his best to conceal the pleased grin beneath his perfectly neat mustache.
“I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.”
a/n : ik he likes some rump and his favorite position is doggy
pairing : colin zabel x gf!reader info : vignette, fluff word count : 1.4k
It was a Friday night (pasta night, specifically) after one too many glasses of wine when you decided to pose the question to your poor boyfriend. It wasn’t a drunk question either, just a spur of the moment softened around the edges, relaxed in the comfortable intimacy that had settled into your relationship over the past few months. The spaghetti dishes had long since been abandoned in the sink, music playing low from your speakers while the two of you lounged across the couch, Colin’s arm stretched behind you.
You were curled against his side, lazily scrolling through your phone when you suddenly laughed, piquing Colin’s interest as he set down the remote control, gaze drifting from the late night cooking show he was previously paying attention to.
“What?” he asked, already smiling just because you were.
You turned the screen toward him. “Somebody online asked their boyfriend: ‘Boobs, ass, or thighs?’ and apparently it started a war in the comments.”
Colin immediately looked wary, as if he could tell he sealed his fate by asking the question. “Okay…”
You grinned slowly, leaning on his shoulder and looking up at him like a sly cat. “So… Colin Zabel.”
“Oh no.”
“Boobs, ass, or thighs?”
He stared at you like you’d just placed him under interrogation, nervous chuckle let out with his dimples as he looked down to shake his head. For a moment, he genuinely tried to dodge it. “I feel like there’s no right answer here.”
“There isn’t,” you said cheerfully. “It’s a matter of opinion.”
He rubbed a hand over his face, already blushing. “Can I plead the fifth?”
“Nope.”
You shifted so you could see him better, chin propped on your hand, thoroughly entertained now. Colin groaned quietly, head tipping back against the couch as his girlfriend indulged in his dilemma.
“This feels like a trap, babe,” he muttered.
“It’s not a trap,” you said. “I’m literally just asking your preference.”
You laughed and he looked at you for a second too long, fond despite himself and completely doomed. He knew you weren’t actually judging him, which almost made it harder. There was no escape hatch of irony or embarrassment to hide behind.
“Okay,” he said finally, sitting up a little straighter like he was preparing to testify in court. “Can I explain my answer first?”
Your eyes widened in delight. “Oh my god, yes.”
He pointed at you accusingly, already melting under your watchful gaze. “See? This is exactly why I’m nervous.”
“You’re adorable. Continue.”
Colin exhaled deeply, visibly gathering courage for what was objectively a harmless conversation but somehow felt monumental anyway. “I feel like… okay… uhm… personality matters, definitely.”
This makes you burst out laughing, lightly hitting his shoulder. “Colin!”
“No, I’m serious!” he insisted, flushed already. “I’m saying context matters. It’s not like I’m walking around categorizing women based on their body-”
“Detective,” you interrupted gently, holding his chin, “...answer the question.”
He looked at the ceiling briefly, then back at you with the expression of a man accepting his fate.
“…Boobs. Uhm, yours, specifically.”
The word came out quiet and respectful, somehow… like he was trying not to offend the concept of breasts, even taking the time to correct himself and defend that yours were the only pair he ever would revere. You stared at him for half a second before laughing so hard you nearly slid off the couch. This makes Colin immediately defensive.
“Why are you laughing?!”
“Because you said it like you were embarrassed of it!”
“I kind of feel like I am!”
Still laughing, you grabbed his arm and leaned against him again. He was red all the way up to his ears now, but smiling too, unable to help it when you looked this entertained.
“So… you’re a boobs guy.” you teased.
He groaned softly into his hand. “Please never say it like that again.”
“I will.”
Colin shook his head, but after a moment his arm tightened around your waist, pulling you closer almost unconsciously. His voice dropped quieter then, sincerity slipping back in despite the embarrassment.
“I just think they’re…” He paused, immediately regretting continuing when you catch his gaze drift down to your chest.
You looked up at him expectantly. “They’re what?”
He glanced at you, then away again with a shy smile. “Nice.” That only made you laugh harder.
But a few minutes later, when the teasing had died down and the room had settled soft and warm around you again, Colin leaned down to kiss you with lingering affection, and you noticed the faint, stubborn flush still coloring his cheeks the entire time.
“You know,” you said after the laughter finally settled, “that answer actually raises more questions.”
Colin immediately narrowed his eyes, not wanting to add to his embarrassment. “No.”
“Oh, absolutely yes.”
He was already smiling despite himself, slouched deeper into the couch while you turned toward him fully now, knees tucked under you. The wine had left him warm and loose enough to stay instead of retreating, even though he could already tell where this was going.
“You can’t just say ‘boobs’ in the shyest voice imaginable and then leave it there.”
“I think I can.”
“Nope.” You poked his side lightly. “Explain yourself.”
Colin covered part of his face with one hand, groaning softly. “Why are you interrogating me like this?”
“Because you’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”
You were smiling too brightly for him to have any real defense against it. He looked at you for a long moment, clearly debating whether he could survive refusing, then he sighed the sigh of a man accepting inevitable defeat.
“Okay, but you’re making this weird.”
“I haven’t even started making it weird.”
“That sentence alone made it weird.”
You laughed again, and Colin felt his chest tighten with affection so sudden it nearly distracted him from his own embarrassment. God, he liked you. Too much, probably.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “They’re just… comforting.”
You blinked, surprised into softness. “Comforting?”
“Yeah.” His voice got quieter, more thoughtful now that he was actually trying to articulate it. “Not in a creepy way, more emotionally.”
“I didn’t say creepy.”
“I know, but I needed to establish that for my own dignity.”
You grinned. “Go on, Detective.”
Colin huffed out a laugh and looked down at his hands before continuing. “I think it’s because they feel…” He paused again, searching. “Warm and safe, maybe.” He looked up at you cautiously, gauging your reaction. “Like if someone lets you be close to them like that, it’s because they trust you to be close to their heart.”
Your teasing expression softened almost immediately at the answer, just wanting to kiss his stupid again the more you listened to your man talk.
“And,” he added quickly, flustered by your sudden sincerity, “I mean, obviously they’re attractive too. I’m not pretending this is entirely philosophical.”
“Obviously.”
“But I don’t know.” He shrugged helplessly. “It’s not even really about looks half the time. It’s just intimate to be closer to them. It’s not my fault that your boobs are right in front of your heart.”
You stared at him for a second, visibly trying not to melt. “Oh my god,” you murmured. “That’s the most Colin answer you could’ve possibly given.”
His face flushed deeper. “Is that bad?”
“No,” you said immediately, moving closer until your leg draped over his. “It’s really sweet.”
He groaned quietly, dropping his head back against the couch. “I should’ve lied. I should’ve said thighs and moved on with my life.”
“But then I wouldn’t have learned you associate boobs with emotional vulnerability.”
“That is not what I said.”
“It kind of is.”
Colin laughed despite himself, shoulders shaking slightly as he looked over at you again. You were watching him with such obvious affection now that it made him bashful in a completely different way.
“You know what the worst part is?” he admitted.
“What?”
“I really thought I was going to sound suave somehow.”
You burst out laughing, leaning forward to kiss him before he could hide behind the embarrassment again. Colin kissed you back immediately, smiling into it, one hand settling warmly at your waist. When you pulled away, still grinning, you brushed your thumb against his cheek.
“For the record?”
“Mm?” his eyes were half-lidded when he gazed at you.
“I think your answer was perfect.”
a/n : i got too excited with this one lmfaoooo my baby is a boob guy and i will die on this hill. maybe this will develop into a mommy kink wink wonk
[Being a skater gets Russell in a lot of accidents. Good thing he's dating a future nurse who will always deal with his hijinks!]
Context: Reader and Russell are both Juniors in High School in this fic, so both are 17. [Evan's age when he played Russell] This fic will be completely SFW. Don't be weird. ALSO THIS WILL INCLUDE 2000s LINGO.
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"You are a lucky, lucky man, Russell."
Russell grins, a bit dopey from the very minor concussion he just contracted. His hands toy with one of the plushies on your bed, tossing it lightly.
"M' always lucky with you, babes."
Russell Hayes was, in fact, a very, very lucky man. After the wild night at the end of 8th grade, he grew into those sweet features he used to have, and he grew out of the lisp he used to get made fun of for. He barely gets called SpongeBob now! He's still the same reckless, skirt-chasing dork as he's always been, but less...middle schooler. Part of that growth can be attributed to you.
You transferred to Hanover High School [I forgot the name of the school] in your freshman year and promptly fell straight into Russell. Literally. After tripping on his skateboard that he carelessly left on the ground. After a few months of friendship and calling, you took a chance on the dork and you two began dating. It was singlehandedly the best choice either of you have made. You keep him grounded, he keeps life fun. He's your lashing LED lights in a sea of college prep and HOSA competitions. Preparing to go to nursing school was no joke.
Dating Russell was like having a best friend, a golden retriever, a boyfriend, a fanboy, and a reckless hamster all in one. He loved fiercely, with compliments and gushing around every corner. He's got stickers on his skateboard of things you like and your Health Science note cards scattered across his bedroom - his bedroom that definitely improved when you started coming home with him after school. You're a driving force in each other's lives. He's always there to cheer you on when you place in State HOSA competitions, and he's always there to hold you while you cry over friend drama. He's a total scamp, and a complete dork - but he loves you with his whole existence, and he never plans on stopping. And you love him in return, motivating him to do more with his life than just skateboarding and listening to music on his Ipod. He actually snagged a job as a cashier at the mall's skate shop because you went over interview questions and helped him with his resume. He's a ball of energy, you're a steady helping hand. And even when he messes up, you know he loved you - and that always brings the two of you back to one-another.
At his sappy words, you scoff. "I'm serious, Rus! You could have split your head open! What were you thinking?!"
Russell giggles at first, but he stops when he sees you pull out a bottle of rubbing alcohol from under your vanity.
"Oh c'mon, sweet cheeks! That stuff stings!" He whines.
"Maybe you shouldn't try and do stupid tricks on the guardrails of the stairs! We have dinner with my family in like 10 minutes, I don't need you looking like you just lost a fight to a concrete slab." You gently wipe his knees with the rubbing alcohol before pulling out a roll of gauze. "You're lucky my parents like you."
He hisses through the pain, but grins in that classic Russell fashion.
"I'm lucky with a lot of things, babe. I'm lucky that a total hottie like you is here to patch me up like my own personal nurse." The brunette winks. He's always been one to butter you up, but you both know that he actually means it. He's obsessed with you. A man of his word.
"Flattery will get you nowhere."
He laces his fingers into the belt loops of your jeans, pulling you closer. He was a fan of all the love languages, but physical touch was his favorite.
"If it wasn't the flattery, then what made you so interested in me? My charming wits or my rad dance moves?" He teases. "Or maybe my 'totes adorbs' fashion style?"
You roll your eyes, pushing off of him lightly to focus back on his scraped knees.
"Are you ever gonna drop the...totes adorbs thing? I said that one time."
"Chillax, babe. I'm just teasin' ya a little. It was cute."
His knees get adequately patched, and you put away your supplies. They'll probably be brought out again in a matter of days. You toss him your hairbrush.
"Whatevs. Brush your hair out, my parents should be calling us down any minute now and I don't want you looking a mess."
He brings the brush up to his nose, sniffing.
"Smells like shampoo and...girl smells."
You roll your eyes. "You're so gross."
He grins, standing up. His hands chasing your hips. They give them a small squeeze.
"Only for you, Shakira."
"Honey! You and Russell better come down and get your dinner before it gets cold! We're having barbecue chicken and rolls!" Your mother calls, her voice ringing out throughout the house.
Russell sighs, rubbing his head against your shoulder. His curls tickle your throat.
"Cuddle time is busted, yet again. Ready to kick it?"
You sigh, placing a kiss on his cheek which you had patched up earlier. A pink band-aid now covered the mark.
"Yeah."
He notices your expression: worried. Not a rare sight. His grin slips.
"Hey, what's the problem? You okay?"
You sigh. "I just don't want you hurt. You're so reckless, and I love you so, so much."
He smiles, lips pressing to the crown of your head.
"I love you more. Thanks for always putting up with me. You're a saint. I'll pay you back somehow. You want me to pick you up some new CDs?"
"Mmm, yeah."
🛹๋࣭ ⭑꩜°📸.⚡︎✮🧽•`
Sadly a very short one, but there wasn't much to go on 😔 plus I'm mad unmotivated right now because I have my Spanish 102 final project due in a week GAHHH anyways I have SIXTEEN drafts rn SOMEONE MAKE ME WORK PLEASEEEEE GAH also Sleepover was sooo cute and here's a song I was thinking of for this little tiny fic 👇 GAH I LOVE WEEZER
PART 2 of games & hangout with peter hcs.
PART 1 here!
requested by: @taeraxoxo
peter maximoff x f!reader
🍵 ‼️: long headcanons ahead. fluff. emotionally and physically clingy peter. peter stealing midnight snacks from the convenience store. lot of things happening with too much energy (welp, it's peter).
-Is now fully convinced that this is a sign from the universe that he’s gonna win you at the end.
-His mind is currently racing at super speed, desperately trying to make plans that will extend the night with you.
-He doesn't want the night to go by fast. Not when today felt like a double win. Imagine getting to experience hanging out and gaming with his best friend a.k.a his crush and now a sleepover?
-The funny thing is that he’s Peter Maximoff. A guy who speeds up almost everything, but suddenly finds himself realizing that there are moments worth experiencing slowly.
-You guys continued gaming for the night. Either laughing and screaming together or laughing and screaming at each other.
-He knows that all these laughing and screaming could possibly knock you out later so his mission for tonight is to keep you interested before you get tired tonight! Yes, it’s that serious for him.
-After all those laughing and screaming, he immediately tries to distract you with “OH. WAIT! I have something to show you!” before you get to realize that you’re slowly about to get knocked out trying to catch up with this guy’s energy.
-That just doesn’t end there! He planned more as if this was a serious mission. (for him it is)
-He’ll suddenly keep remembering something urgent like: “WAIT.. I never showed you my favorite level..”
-He always brings out a: “One last thing!” excuse to keep yapping.
-Then you realize that it’s late.. 1AM. So you mention it to him. But he’ll be like “Yeah, time goes by so quickly when you’re gaming.” He commented casually. “But you know what 1AM means? Store run.”
-Before you could even process it, he speeds to the door of the basement, already holding open the door for you.
-The moment you two entered the nearest convenience store, you heard the cashier sigh to his co-cashier before speaking: “Look, it’s that silver haired guy that’s always here, touches everything but leaves empty handed.”
-You had to hold a laugh and the urge to tell them that it’s because Peter already stole half of the store’s twinkies before the automatic doors even finished closing.
-He keeps speeding down the aisles then would just pop up beside you from time to time holding different biscuits, chips, drinks while telling you that you have to try them.
-You both got too noisy and there’s this man with a cart full of liquor calling you both “kids” and telling you both that you guys are so loud.
-The man barely had time to blink. The man's cart that was just in front of him is now mysteriously across the aisle by itself, rolling down with a concerning speed while rattling loudly against the floor.
-Peter says nothing but he's smiling. Yep, he absolutely shoved the man's cart at super speed.
-He’ll suddenly disappear inside the store and you’ll spot him outside, using his head as a gesture, telling you to come out.
-”What the fuck, Peter? We haven’t even grabbed anything yet.” Then he opens his silver jacket. There we biscuits, chips, and candies. He’s also secretly holding two cans of sodas. “Go, go, go.” He tells you while holding in an evil giggle.
-Back in the basement, he convinces you to watch a movie with him while eating the snacks (yes he still wants to extend the night and now also trying to find a way to get close to you again).
-It’s another successful plan for him again. You guys were nearly cuddling.
-You both feel very comfortable, especially Peter. The comfort he’s feeling right now made everything in him calm and behaved.
-After the movie, Peter finally agreed for bedtime. He even lets you borrow one of his shirts.
-When he saw you in his shirt, it triggered his imaginations again, making him imagine that you’re already his gf who always sleeps in his shirts.
- You guys actually shared his bed.
-After you both said goodnight to each other, you guys settled in a position where your backs were facing each other.
-But in the middle of the night, you’ll wake up and feel that Peter’s hugging you.
-You realize that he’s an unconscious hugger.
-One leg thrown over yours, arm around your middle, and face half buried into the pillow beside you.
husband!james patrick march x wife!reader.
🍵 ‼️: 1.1k+ words. 18+. p in v. perverted husband!james. mention of murder. a bit of knife play. unprotected sex.
a/n: i got the energy to make smut with 1k+ words whaaaat
📖 summary: after james' murderous activities, he came home to his wife seducing him and he obeys with no hesitation.
James wraps up another midnight murder with practiced ease; A call to Ms. Evers for cleanup, a cold shower to freshen up, then return to his sleeping beloved in his suite who’s untouched by the horrors of his evening.
He enters the suite quietly and calmly, expecting that his beloved wife is already deep in her slumber as usual. The familiarity of the suite he shares with you welcomes him as he further walks inside, retrieving his pistol and the sheathed blade hidden inside his suit. He was about to put them aside on the nightstand beside your shared bed. He just took a quick glance at you, but then his head snapped back for another look because of a beautiful unexpected sight that greeted him.
You. sitting on the bed, your short nightgown hiking up your thighs and the dim light of the lamp casting a warm soft glow against your body. He paused. Eyes glued on you as a smirk slowly starts to form on his lips.
“My.. my.. What a sight for sore eyes..” He purrs, walking towards the bed. His eyes remain glued on you as he places his pistol and knife sheath on the nightstand. “Couldn’t sleep, James.” You whisper with a small cheeky smile playing on your lips. You moved a bit, the new position making your nightgown reveal more. You gave him just enough of a view to see your panties underneath your nightgown.
You saw the way your lovingly perverted husband’s head tilt to get a better view of your panties underneath your nightgown. “So you waited for me, little dove?” He asks as he reaches for his sheathed knife that he placed on the nightstand earlier. You let out a soft “Mhm.” at that. He felt his cock twitch in his trousers.
He thought a kill would be enough to satisfy him for the night as usual. Yet it seemed that his wife had more in store for him tonight.
He then spreads your thighs gently and pulls out his knife from its sheath. He hooks the sharp tip of the knife on the fabric of your panties, using it to push your panties aside, revealing your wet folds. His favorite view.
The moment he pushed your panties aside using his knife? It made your mind go blank. Your pupils dilate. The further plans in your mind on how to seduce him further tonight disappeared so quickly. Now, all you know is that you badly want him to now take the lead and take. you. right. now.
He hums with a satisfied smile on his lips as he continues to take a good view.
“My, you waited for me very eagerly, it seems..”
“Yes love..” You breathlessly spoke. He unhooks the tip of his knife from the fabric of your panties, slowly sliding it up to your chest and back down, the tip of the knife freezing on your abdomen as you breathe out:
“Tear it open, James.”
James’ eyebrows shot up at your breathless suggestion; telling him to tear open your nightgown. “Tsk tsk,” he clicks his tongue. “Not tonight, my love. I would prefer to do that on our anniversary.” You let out a low flattered chuckle at that. You watch him toss the knife carelessly on the nightstand, his hands then making their way to the button and zipper of his trousers and then undoing them. You continued watching as your breath hitches. You’ve been patiently waiting for this since earlier.
The moment you felt his tip nudge your folds, you hips bucks a bit. He smirks once again at the eagerness of his beloved wife. He finally guides his cock to your entrance, his lips pressing against each other, forming a thin line as he pushes in your warmth. Finally, the empty and needy feeling you feel down there is now being taken care of, making a pleasurable gasp escape those lips of yours.
“Is this what you’ve been waiting for, dearest?” He grunts as he starts to thrust. He wants his thrusts to immediately hit deep. And when it did, you loved it. It’s exactly what you needed. You nodded eagerly, one of your hands making its way to grip the side of the pillow that your head is resting on. James’ other hand shoots out to grab your wrist and pins it hard on the mattress as he leans down his body a bit to thrust deeper. “Mmh.. so deep, James.” You whimper, making him growl in response.
You love how he’s so good at making sounds during sex, it makes the butterflies in your stomach go crazy. Feeling butterflies in your stomach while he’s deep inside of you is a deadly combo. It makes you clench tighter around him.
James felt that. He groans your name as his hand that was holding your hip moves to crumple and grip on the fabric of your nightgown that was resting on your lower stomach. He straightens up, making him pull your hips up with him. He also slowly drags his hand away from the wrist of yours that he had been pinning on the mattress earlier. This brings a new angle of his thrusts that makes your head spin in pleasure. You want to close your eyes tightly due to so much pleasure. But god.. The view of him in his new position is unfairly attractive.
The way he looks right now is majestic. Him holding your hips up to meet his thrust by only gripping the fabric on your nightgown on your lower stomach part makes the veins on his forearm bulge + how the dim lighting falls on him from your perspective? He’s like a damn majestic being sexing you so good. Each thrust was aimed straight for the center of your pleasure.
James then feels that you’re close, your walls are clenching and throbbing. His grunts turn into those pathetic, visceral moans and gasps along with him twitching and throbbing inside you as well. His muscles then locked tight, and there it goes. The warm liquid that you’ve been waiting to fill you up. You threw your head back as you felt your body shudder, a groan of pleasure escaping your lips. You can feel the mixed juices overflowing. James lets out a last grunt and gives you a final hard thrust before you both collapse on the bed.
You ended up panting heavily underneath him, but very satisfied. James lets out a slow chuckle before lifting his head to look at you, his black hair falling on his forehead.
“You know, darling.. I could grow terribly accustomed to this sort of welcome after my murderous evenings.” He teases you as he reaches to open the drawer of the nightstand, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. You rolled your eyes playfully. "It's actually a reminder that you have a wife waiting for you while you occupy yourself with killing.”
James casually laughs it off before gently placing a cigarette between your lips and lights it for you.
likes/reblogs/comments are very much appreciated! 🫶
🍵 taglist : @bohnerrific69 @sempiternalbeauty (lmk if anyone else wants to be added!)
It’s no secret that your younger boyfriend Peter Maximoff absolutely reveres you, following his lovely girlfriend around like a lost, overgrown puppy just because he loves you so much. Peter likes noise, he likes being the loudest one in the room, likes being the funniest, the fastest, the most impossible to ignore. It’s easier that way for him, easier to always seem to stay ahead so people never get the chance to look at him too closely and realize he’s just a guy trying very hard to seem effortless.
Then there’s you: you who never rushes, moving through the world with certainty that fascinates him. Papers organized neatly under one arm, sleeves rolled up while grading assignments, calm even when the mansion feels like it’s one bad day away from collapsing in on itself.
You remember important things: where he left his headphones, when he forgets to eat, the fact that he talks faster when he’s nervous and quieter when he’s upset.
Sometimes, Peter feels like a tornado, orbiting someone sturdy enough not to get swept away. And he adores it, dating someone more mature than him feels like standing still for the first time in his life without getting bored.
You steady him without making him feel small for needing it, listening when he rambles too much, even seeing through him when he’s showing off (which is often). It makes him want to impress you anyway, which is how he ends up currently talking too much about a mission that absolutely does not require this much storytelling.
“And then Scott’s yelling, obviously, because apparently ‘don’t touch that’ means I’m actually not supposed to touch that-”
You laugh softly from where you’re sitting beside him on the couch, knees tucked under you. “Hmm, apparently.” you say, feigning initial interest.
Peter points at you like you’re validating years worth of emotional struggle. “Right? So I grab the thing before it explodes-”
“Sooo heroic.” You tell him.
“Extremely heroic, actually.” he says, laughing.
You hum at that, smiling into your mug as you take another sip. And there it is again, that feeling, that awful, fluttery nervousness he gets around you sometimes. Even now, even after months into dating, he still catches himself wanting your approval like it’s sunlight.
That feeling is especially strong when you’re looking at him quietly, like right now. You’re not laughing anymore, just watching him with this soft expression that makes his chest too tight.
“...What?” he asks, suddenly self-conscious.
“Oh, nothing.” you say, pushing it away casually.
“Babe.” he pouts, which makes you set your mug down carefully on the coffee table, turning toward him fully now.
“You know,” you tell him softly, “...you don’t always have to show off for me.”
With how fondly you said it, lacking any bit of exasperation and annoyance, Peter forgets how to breathe normally. Looking down, he rubs the back of his neck with a nervous laugh.
“Yeah, well…” he fakes a cough, gazing away to preserve whatever charm he had left.
“Mm,” you lean a little closer. “I like you when you’re quiet too.”
Peter’s stomach flips embarrassingly hard. He opens his mouth to make a joke, because of course he does, but then you reach out to touch his jaw.
Everything in him short circuits, even when it’s just a thumb brushing against his flushed cheek. But your eyes flick down to his mouth for half a second before returning to his eyes, to which he goes completely still, staring at you with wide, hopeful eyes.
“You’re nervous.” you murmur, almost amused to how already wrecked he looks.
“N-No, I’m not…”
“No?” you say, dragging a finger over the line of his jaw.
“Okaymaybealittle.” he blurts out under his breath, earning him a smile from you that devastates his poor little heart.
You lean in, slower than he’d like but kiss him anyway. This is unlike the stolen kisses in hallways or the breathless ones after missions. Your lips move deliberately, hand sliding into silver locks as you tilt closer, and Peter makes this helpless little sound against your mouth that he’ll absolutely deny later.
Oh God, Peter thinks to himself, you’re initiating. You, his calm, composed girlfriend, kissing him like you’ve thought about it all day. The fact that you actually could’ve made his brain melt instantly.
His hands find your waist on instinct, gripping gently as you climb into his lap without breaking the kiss. Peter's eyes flutter shut, completely overwhelmed by the fact that you’re choosing to take control for once and the fact that he likes it way more than expected.
Peter thinks you know exactly what you’re doing to him when you kiss him deeper and more purposely, running your hands across his shoulders as if to aim for his total ruin.
When you finally pull apart, Peter looks genuinely dazed, lips pink, breathing uneven. It’s the cutest sight you could possibly see, boyfriend dazed like a milk-drunk kitten.
You brush your nose lightly against his. “There,” you whisper. “...You’re all cute when you’re quiet.”
He stares at you for a long moment before blurting: “…I think I'm in love with you.” in a voice both rushed and soft.
You could only laugh before kissing him again anyway.
