Zendaya At The 2021 Venice Film Festival

Genuine question, I apologize if this sounds insincere, but why do you tag your works as black!reader even when the reader’s race or skin color isn’t explicitly mentioned? Do you not think that that might effect the amount of reblogs you get? I know I don’t reblog woc!readers because I know those aren’t written for me, so I don’t add them to my reading list. Sorry if I’m sounding rude, I’m just genuinely curious.

Welp. You do sound rude and you are raggedy for this shit. Sit in that.

Tbh I read stories on here with mood boards with white women in them even though it says reader! on it. It’s prolly not written for me, but I enjoy stories so I’ve read them. Just like every WOC on here who gets to read stories that ‘aren’t for them’. Why? Cause that’s the trend and mostly reblogged around here. 

It’s so crazy. Like do you read scifi? Romance? How do you watch movies? Do you just skip them cause ‘they aren’t for you’ or ‘you can’t relate cause you aren’t Steve Rogers’? 

And the reason my stories are Black!Reader is because I am Black. They are written in the event I decide to describe skin tone, eye color (which is rare). I came on this site knowing I wouldn’t get as much attention and you prove the reason why. My stories have depth, they can be read by anyone who wants to stop and pretend for a bit. Notes?! Pfffffffffffffffft. I don’t have a single story over a 1k in notes, but I know the right people are reading them and it’s fine by me. So please do me a solid and never come back here. Enjoy your privilege.

Ottessa Moshfegh, My Year of Rest and Relaxation

Thorns and Roses

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader also Blaise Zabini x reader if you squint.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Blood, swears twice? Angsty (fluff ending)

Summary: Hanahaki Disease AU! You are despareatly in love with your bestfriend. His unrequainted love causes flowers to grow in your lungs which you are forced to cough up until death overcomes you. The only removal of this sickness is a spell which also takes every memory of the loved one with it.

A/n: look at my dumb ass post late for my own event... this fic is for the first week of Cliche Month. My cliche was Hanahaki Disease. Check out the other writers work. They are amazing!!

    Roses used to be your favorite flower. Their delicate petals stained with glaring crimson intrigued you since you reached for one in your mother’s garden and pulled away with a bloodied hand. They could be found around you constantly; arranged in sparkling vases and patterned on your dresses. Bouquets were gifted to you by friends and family during holidays and birthdays, they surrounded you. 

    Now as you coughed into the toilet of the girl’s lavatory you wished to never see a rose again. You could feel the thorns tearing you apart, your throat sliced to ribbons as you clutched the stark white porcelain. You heaved a final time, petals falling into the clear water, the blood upon them staining it pink. You felt dizzy, copper thick in your mouth. You choked out a sob, tears spilling down your cheeks and dripping off your chin. You brought your hand to your face, whipping your mouth with its back and blinking back a fresh wave of cries. You pushed yourself to your feet, knees sore from resting on cold tile too long. You flushed, watching as the red and white petals spiraled from view. 

    You stepped from the stall going to the mirror and dabbing away melting makeup, a few practice smiles at your reflection flashed before you exited the secluded room. 

    Hanahaki disease had been glorified around you for years. The aesthetic and purity of its cause and symptoms making it seem like some dream or fairytale. You had learned quite quickly it was anything but. While everyone talked of the beauty of growing flowers within you they never talked about the pain of thorns piercing you with every breath or the blood which lingered on your taste blood because of never-ending cuts and tears of skin. They never talked about the stab you felt each time the person you loved looked your way or the times you had to swallow petals to keep your quickening death a secret. 

    Blood and roses painted a pretty picture but they stopped being so charming as you choked them out every few hours. 

    You walked quickly to class, each step you took emitting pain in your chest, pain which you had gotten phenomenal at ignoring. Snape didn’t bat an eyelash, despite the fact that you were six minutes late. The stabs grew searing as you took a seat next to the scowling blonde who had unintentionally bloomed flowers in your chest.  

    “Where the hell were you?” Draco scoffed his tone cold.

    “Bathroom.” You replied plainly, eyes tracing the slope of his nose as he turned away from you. Your eyes continued to follow his profile, creating trails on his jawline and under his light grey eyes. 

    Draco turned back to you, “Is there something on my face?” 

    You shook your head, feeling petals flutter in your stomach, thorns following. 

    He said nothing, eyes flicking around your profile, looking for clues of your strange behavior. “Are you sick?” He asked, “You look pale.” 

    You shook your head yet again, “I feel fine.” Lies came so easily recently.

    Draco didn’t give in easily, his gaze searching your own as if he could read through your words to your failing heart. “You’ve seemed off recently,” he stated turning back to the lesson.

    “I don’t know what you mean.” You replied. Lying really had become effortless.

    Draco didn’t like your sudden disappearances and untrustworthy excuses. You had been distant and unfamiliar in recent days. Your schedule seemed skewed, jokes, and laughter seeming to die as you rushed to unexplained meetings with no one before reappearing thirty minutes later with blood on your sleeves. You always smelled of the liquid, copper had replaced your floral shampoo and tropical perfumes. Everything about you simply felt wrong, like an invisible switch had been flipped leaving you as an imposter. 

    You forced a thin smile at the girl across from you as she said her greetings. Pansy dug into her plate of eggs, glaring up at you suspiciously. Your relationship with the girl had always rested on the edge of a knife. She despised your relationship with Draco, her eyes going green whenever you were seen together. You wish you could tell her there was really nothing to worry about. 

    “You’re hiding something.” She satiated plainly.

    You scrunched your nose in mock confusion, “What?”

    A scoff rose from her lips, “I’m not stupid y/l/n. Something is up with you, everyone can see it.” 

    “I have no clue what you’re talking about.” You huffed rolling your eyes, hoping she didn’t notice the goosebumps that rose on your arms, fear of being discovered chilling you to the bone. 

    Blaise sat down next to you sensing the tense atmosphere and glancing between you both, “This about Draco?” He asked cautiously.

    You shook your head quickly, a stab of agony shooting through you at his mention. 

    The boy shrugged, snatching a bagel and beginning to dress it with jam, “Anyway, you guys are coming to Hogsmeade right?”

    Pansy answered excitedly her high pitch making you wish you’d stayed in bed. The conversation droned for a moment and you focused on your breathing. You knew the time which you would be able to do such a necessary act was limited. It was only a matter of time before thorns punctured a lung or pushed through your heart. 

    “You’re going right y/n?” Blaise asked, drawing you into the words spoken between them. 

    You bit your cheek, “I don’t think so.” 

    Blaise groaned, “Come on, we always go! It’s like a tradition.”

    You frowned, “You didn’t go last week.”

    The trap he had fallen into struck quickly, “Well doesn’t matter, you need to go.” he recovered.

    “And why’s that?” You hummed nursing an orange juice that tasted of copper. 

    “Draco gets pissy when you don’t come.” He explained. The words would have made your heart soar if vines weren’t threaded through your veins. “Especially after quidditch practices.” 

    You sighed, “Draco isn’t my responsibi-” you were cut off by a spear thrust into your chest. The glass you held fell from your grip and shattered on the table. Eyes darted towards you in confusion as you bent over in agony. 

    A muffled voice broke through your momentary disconnection from the conscious world.

“Y/n are you okay?” 

Your eyes fluttered open as you gasped for air, tears pooling in your eyes, “I’m fine.” you rasped standing quickly from your seat as you felt petals push up your throat. You sprint from the room without another word, hand clasping over your lips as you desperately tried to swallow the floral arrangement crawling up towards your lips. You managed to make it three corridors before collapsing to the ground, heads turned, eyes locking with you as let out a rattling set of coughs. 

You didn’t hear the words of concern or cries for help as your mouth filled with blood. You felt something push from your mouth landing on your hands lightly. A rose blossom stared back at you as you opened your eyes. Its white petals unfurled stunningly, deep crimson puddles pooled between them. Red dripped lazily down your hands and you began to cough again. Thorns tore through your flesh escaping into the light of the world drenched in red, petals floated in the small puddle of blood around you like tiny boats in a lake of fire. 

You hiccuped twice, the pain the action caused forcing tears down your cheeks. Your ears rang with shouts and gasps, your hands tightening around the flowers you held, only then noticing the cuts which littered your palms. 

Blaise thundered around the corner, shoving people out of the way to see what they had gathered around. His eyes widened when he saw you, blood drenching the front of your uniform, tears mixing with crimson as they dripped off your chin. But the most alarming thing which sat in that hallway where the roses. Four of them, in full bloom, were littered around you, their meaning sinking terror into Blaise’s head. He dropped to his knees in front of you, hands coming to your shoulders.

“Shit y/n,” he mumbled feeling his eyes prick.

You were sobbing, wincing with every shake your body gave, “I can’t forget.” You whimpered, “Please, I don’t wanna die but I can’t forget him.” Your begs were cut off as you began to cough again.

You felt numb. The potions you had been given driving away not only pain but every other feeling your body had manifested. Moving felt like wading through thick mud, the weight of the blankets adding to the confusion of your nerves. 

The ceiling of the hospital wing had become boring hours before, the dark of the night staining the white a deep blue. Your brain ran through memory after memory, thinking that if they replayed through your consciousness enough they would be stuck there, even after they were cut from your body with the flowers within you. You could hear his voice, smell his cologne, and feel his hair. The pain of your body had left but that of your mind had been so deeply engraved it was hard to distinguish from the former. 

The ache you felt from the image of his angry tears and hoarse screams were far worse than the occasional stab of a thorn. Maybe it would be better to forget. Forget the pain, the love, all of it. To forget him. Yet every time you thought of the idea your eyes welled with tears and that unsettling ache of your chest worsened. 

Memories became more and more recent as the melody of the platinum blonde continued to play. Those of a few hours ago were the freshest, still crisp around the edges, full of brilliant colors. 

You didn't want him to find out, let alone find out from someone who wasn't you. Yet Blasie had told him the second after he had dropped you where you now lay, betraying everything within you. 

He had come into the wing still dressed in his quidditch robes, broom in his left hand as he stormed through the previously quiet area. 

"How dare you." He had seethed, broom hitting the ground with a clatter. 

Your eyes had become focused solely on him the second his voice had graced you.

"How fucking DARE you!" His eyes were glossy with fury.

"Mr. Malfoy!"  Pompfery shouted behind him

You were in a confused daze, dull pain shooting through you as Draco neared. "What?" 

He was in front of you now tears sliding down his flushed cheeks as he gripped the metal of the bed frame.

"You can't just fall in love with me!" He shouted, "You can't just, j-just," his voice faltered and fell and he slumped forward. 

You sat up wanting to move towards him, "I'm sorry." You whimpered a hand coming to rest on his own.

He snatched himself away from you, "You were just going to let yourself die?" 

You paused another stab of pain dulled by medication sending white to your vision. Were you going to let yourself die? Die for the memories of this boy? It seemed a bit pitiful as you thought about it. "I don’t know." 

Draco was appalled, his mind reeling as you stared up at him, eyes wide and glistening, "Don't put your blood on my hands." He hissed turning and storming from the room.

You called after him, voice straining, throat burning. He didn't spare a single glance back and you were left staring at his disregard broom as blossoms bubbled in your throat.

Draco had always had an easy way out when he was younger. His mother loved to spoil him and his father would keep him out of trouble with little effort. He had easy choices that were made for him. But recently things have been different. The expectations of his parents raised as he wanted to do nothing but flee from the life they had given him.

You had been safety for him. Your lack of questions and secret intent made you a safe haven. He didn't have to worry about your thoughts of him because he knew they were positive. He didn't have to be concerned with his reputation or his future or his family. He could just exist with you. Exist freely. The bonds which held him to the earth disappeared in your presence and he could float amongst the pink clouds which you lived. 

You were his best friend. And now you were going to be ripped away from him. And there was no one to blame but himself. His unreturned feelings were killing you, this was all his fault. And now your memories would be pulled from you and you would become nothing more than a stranger. 

It hurt to know you may have died for him. Died to keep him in your mind. It hurt to know all the blood you had spilled stained his palms. 

The dorm rooms were darkened, the murky waters of the lake filtering soft moonlight through their depths. Sleep seemed like a faraway friend to Draco as he stared out at nothing. His thoughts were washed together like paint doused in water. A strange dream-like haze had rested over his life since he saw you on that bed. His thumb ran over the bumps of his knuckles, where your hand had rested hours before.

"You shouldn't have blamed her." 

Draco didn't look up, his eyes locked into the dark waters, "I know." 

Blaise sat down next to him, legs crossed, "You should apologize." 

"I know." 

There was a long pause. Neither boy knew what they were supposed to say.

Draco felt his eyes sting, resent bubbling in his stomach, and having nowhere to go, "I don't want to lose her." 

Blaise sighed, "You are either going to have to lose her or love her. It's up to you." 

But it wasn't up to him. He couldn't choose to love you. 

The next day was unsure like a scene that was cut from a movie. Draco spent his time lingering in his hazy consciousness. The thoughts of losing you slowly driving him insane. His vision swam with your image in hallways, eyes falling through him. He would be a stranger to you. And he would have to keep it that way for your own safety. He would be forced to watch his best friend live her life without the memories they shared. The sting of realization grew with each moment.

Your pain had begun to fade. You weren't sure if it was because of the medication or if your body was simply shutting down. The latest you could get McGonagall to cast the spell was tomorrow night. Then every moment you and Draco had shared would be flushed away. 

At least the coughing fits had stopped, thorns no longer tearing your throat to pieces. No more roses covered in blood. You felt a sense of peace.

Your far away mind was drawn back by Madam Pompfery's shrill voice. 

"You may absolutely not visit her!" 

"I just want to apologize!" Another tone retorted.

You sat up quickly, blankets shoved to the side as your bare feet made contact with the ground. 

The argument grew louder as you neared, words turning harsh. 

"Draco?" You called, peeking around the corner to see Madame Pomfrey standing with her back to you blocking the doorway, the blonde just in front of her.

"You should be in bed." The nurse scolded me, turning to look at you.

"I want to see him." You stated firmly.

She had now turned to face you fully, "Go back to bed y/l/n." 

You glared back at the woman, "Let him in." 

There was silence, you're gaze unwavering as the older woman slowly caved. 

"Make it quick Malfoy."

You wanted to choke on the awkward silence that followed after the woman departed. Dracos eyes were glued to you as your own darted between your feet and the nearby wall. 

“She’s right. You should be in bed.” he spoke.

You shrugged, “I was feeling better. The medication helps.”

“You shouldn’t be standing regardless.” He huffed walking past you towards the bed you had been in a few minutes before. 

    You rolled your eyes but followed him, knowing he was right didn’t make you feel any better. 

    “I'm sorry about before,” Draco mumbled as you set yourself against the headboard. You tilted your head in a silent question, “I shouldn't have yelled at you yesterday. It's not your fault.”

    You cracked a small smile, head tilting back until it hit the wall. “Of course it's my fault.” 

    Draco was silent and you gazed at him from the corner of your eye. His eyes were cast at his feet, the melancholy look on his face making you sour. 

    “Please don’t be sad.” You muttered, “I can't have my last memory of you be sad.”

    Despite your plea, his eyes grew misty, the weight on his chest so heavy he thought it might crush him. 

    Your feet felt light and for a moment you thought you might be dying. Your head felt so clear, you wouldn't have been surprised if Draco started saying you were floating off your bed. Your chest felt warm and fuzzy, like hot chocolate after hours in the snow. 

    “I can’t lose you.” Draco sobbed, tears finally spilling from his eyes. “I can’t lose you, y/n. Please don’t leave me.”

    Part of you wanted to slap him, “It's not a choice.” You swallowed thickly, “I didn’t choose to fall in love with you.” It was the truth. You didn’t choose to plunge into the deep waters of absolute devotion. You were pushed. Pushed by each smile and laugh. By each joke and eye roll. He had pushed you into the whirlpool of love and you had been sucked deep under. And now you couldn’t breathe.

    “I can’t watch you forget me.” He croaked his head held in his hands, “I love you y/n, you can't become a stranger to me. I couldn’t watch you live without me. I couldn't live with these memories knowing you don't have them.” 

    Suddenly the lack of pain made sense. The light, fuzzy feeling overwhelming your body was comprehensible, “Say it again.”

    Draco met your eyes, “What?”

    “Say you love me again.”

    His eyes widened, momentary surprise taking him before it was pushed aside by a rush of relief, “I love you.”

    It was like a drug drawn from his lips, it burnt like whiskey down your throat, warmth filling you. You sat forward quickly, hands coming to cup his cheeks, damp and sticky with tears. Droplets of your own gathered, rivers of relief dripping off your chin.

    Your lips met hastily. The taste of salt mixed with the bitterness of blood was unsavory but neither of you seemed to care as you pulled him closer. Kiss deepening as his hands fell to your waist. You found yourself sinking deeper into the water you had fallen into, oxygen suddenly filling your thirsting lungs.

    You were unaware of the thorns that filled Blaise’s. Yellow petals spilled from his lips, his throat filled with blood. As you tucked your head into Draco's chest, his was buried into his hands, tears filling his eyes. He was hopeless, the thorns would tear him apart and you would put roses on his grave

Taglist:

@accio-rogers @roslea @k3nz-doodl3 @theseuscmander @sleepingalaska @chloe-geoghegan1

Masterlist

New animation. From Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. 

✨Gryffindor Quidditch girls getting ready for the Yule Ball✨

Finally done! This piece was haunting me for the last few weeks and it never seemed to come together until it did. Word of advice for my fellow artists, sometime you just have to push through the hard parts; it’s never going to be perfect, so know when to say “good enough”.❤️

The Slytherin boys are pretty but…

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

…Mattheo is pretty like a warm fireplace

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

…Draco is pretty like sunrays in the forest

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

…Blaise is pretty like stars in the clear sky

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

…Theodore is pretty like fog and rain

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

…Lorenzo is pretty like a field full of flowers

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

…Tom is pretty like silver jewelry

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

…Regulus is pretty like wild waves

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

50 Angsty Questions Prompt List

“And that makes it okay?”

“Are you afraid to die?”

“What would you do if I didn’t come back?”

“Do you know what it’s like?”

“Hasn’t this addiction done enough damage already?”

“Why are your eyes so red?”

“How do you think this ends?”

“Why would I ever want to be with you?”

“Is that what you think of me?”

“Do you know what a gunshot wound feels like?”

“How am I supposed to go on?”

“Can’t you see how fucked up this is?”

“If I told you I hate you, what would you do?”

“Should you be drinking that much?”

“What if we just crash this car and make it all stop?”

“Do the drugs still get you high?”

“Am I the reason you cry every night?”

“When did you stop loving me?”

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough?”

“How did things go so wrong?”

“When did things fall apart?”

“Which part of me wasn’t enough?”

“How do I make you love me again?”

“How much does it hurt knowing you lost me?”

“We’re you trying to destroy us?”

“How do you want to die?”

“Is the weight of it all finally too heavy?”

“Are you okay with having blood on your hands?”

“How do you sleep at night?”

“Can you still sleep at night?”

“Is being high all the time worth losing everything?”

“Can you feel the blood draining from your body?”

“Do you know how it feels to wish for death every day?”

“Will you miss me at all?”

“Can I have one last kiss?”

“Do you understand what you’ve done?”

“Is this how you thought your life would be?”

“Did you expect this to turn out better?”

“Can you really blame me?”

“How could you do this?”

“Can you be the one to do it?”

“Does this mean what I think it means?”

“Are you leaving?”

“How do we fix this?”

“Would you hate me?”

“Do you want to die?”

“How many more innocent people have to die?”

“Can you promise me no one else has to get hurt?”

“Are you satisfied now…?”

“Do you even know what love feels like?”

Erase Every Trace

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 : Bucky had to sit back and watch another man touch you, but now that the ruse is over, he’s going to erase every trace of him off your skin. 

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨:  TFAWS Bucky x Reader

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 2.9K

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 : Possessive (mostly protective) Bucky, creampie,  hint of exhibitionism kink, breeding kink, choking, semi public sex, smut, (oral f receiving), minors DNI

A/N: Based on a gif and that scene from this week. Beta’d by the wonderful @whisperlullaby 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.   𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 (𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵)

Check out my Masterlist and Taglist! Requests are closed 

He knew he had fucked up, his arrogant demeanor slipping away when the former winter soldier glared at him. The tense, yet calm atmosphere shattered the second he snatched your hand off Bucky’s arm, placing a distinctly moist kiss on your knuckles while grabbing your thigh. 

And when Bucky lifted him out of his seat by his throat, everyone knew that he would never make that mistake again. 

Earlier that evening. 

The nightclub certainly lived up to its reputation, you didn’t even make it past the entrance before you were being offered pink skull shaped candies. Shaking your head at what you assumed was ecstasy, you looked around the large room. Bright strobes of neon lights wave through the crowd splitting the darkness, the heavy thumping bass of the music vibrating through the floors. A husky mix of smoke, sweat, and liquor cling to the thick cloudy air. 

People jump and sway around you, a mob of glittery, sweaty limbs touching and grinding against each other. You navigate through the crowd, swatting away wandering hands and stray lips until you make your way to the bar. Signaling the bartender, you order a shot of tequila, needing a little liquid courage.

 You weren’t supposed to be here, but the only alias they could use to get a meeting with the buyer was part of a couple. And you were the only one that could help them out. Bucky was too well known through these parts and there was no way an Avenger could disguise himself among this crowd. Which left John Walker and you, a fact that Sam and Bucky hated.

You could see past Bucky’s stoic demeanor to the seething rage lurking beneath his seemingly cold indifferent blue eyes during the meeting, rage that grew each time John emphasized how loving the couple was known to be. The thought of having his hands on you turned your stomach. 

Honestly, you were only doing this for Bucky. 

While the information you could get from the buyer would help the team, it would also lead to another name on his list. A fact that only you and Bucky were aware of and the only reason he was allowing this to happen. 

You know him so well that you picked up on the way the corner of his mouth twitched whenever he was upset, how he would tap his left knee with his index finger as if he were counting down in his head, a  grounding technique he picked up from somewhere. 

You intertwined your fingers in his while you listened, rubbing your thumb across his palm, tapping along with him. His quick squeeze telling you he was okay. He has to shut down and compartmentalize otherwise his emotions would get the best of him. 

You and Sam remember the last time you were in danger, the destruction he reigned down to save you was astonishing. Rule number 2 of his does not apply to you in the slightest. 

If he even thinks you’re in danger, there is no stopping him. 

A fact he reminded a smug John of several times during the planning process.  

You pulled down the end of your form-fitting teal dress and threw back the shot, the crystal clear liquid burning it’s way down your throat. Wiping your mouth off with the back of your hand, you slide the glass down the counter. 

You balance your weight on your heels, warily watching John approaching you, wearing his fur-lined coat, a snarky smile on his face. It takes everything you have to not cringe when he pulls you in for a hug, kissing the shell of your ear. 

“We’re being watched, so play your role, I have plans for tomorrow that I’m very interested in keeping,” he whispers, his hands moving down your back, resting above your ass. 

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𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐲𝐬 ♢ 𝐩. 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 ➸ 1.8k 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 ➸ fratboy!peter parker x lighter skinned!reader ; “I won’t apologize for marking you up, everyone should know you’re taken.” 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 ➸ SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI…. public(ish) sex, unprotected sex, creampie, choking, dry humping, fingering, teasing, wall sex, counter sex (if i missed anything, please let me know)

𝘢/𝘯 ➸ so i tried to be inclusive but this does deal with the reader having a lighter skin tone where hickeys can be shown :(( im sorry to all those who cant read this, 

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

    the music was muffled, the thickness of the walls, which stopped the sounds of the party going on outside from filling the bathroom, surprising you as his lips moved up and down your neck, sucking lightly. you knew that it wouldn’t leave a mark, too engulfed in the feeling of peter’s lips trailing back up to yours, a small whimper sounding into his mouth as he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours.

his lips pecked yours, repeating his past actions and connecting with your neck yet again, sucking harder, “hey, no marks, petey.” he chuckled against your shoulder, reluctantly pulling away before he spoke.

“hi,” he whispered, the tension in the room impalpable, the feeling of your panties sticking to you from under your dress making the position you were in uncomfortable. your legs wrapped around his waist, his very noticeable hard-on felt against your heat as his hands rested on your waist, holding you up against the wall.

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