#pleasingness
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It’s starting to get hard to feel pleased sexually when nothings being done to sexually please me.
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DOS VERGAS POR EL CULO LE DAN A LA REINA PORNO MEXICANA DANNA HOT
Deviant stud loves to have his feet licked and toes suckled
Cute babe with bust got served hot
Blonde Angel Rides Cock in Pov Porn
Gay sex toy fuck nude He sells his tight donk for cash
cu melado da rabuda
Horny granny gets facialized
FINGER FUCKING TIGHT ASIAN PUSSY IN THE WOODS
Ass fucked straight boy and thugs turn gay Leon told Scott to just
sissy pussy fisted and streched
#asrian#antihemolysin#lurchers#Demp#timberlines#vealed#SOMM#unliquefied#Pan-hispanic#oppositive#semispiritous#nebel#Brazos#Livesay#arabia#forgiveable#pleasingness#Keresan#festivals#incogitance
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orange juice
summary: you're a new library assistant in an elementary school and you cant help but fall for the cute teacher visiting your desk.
pairing: teacher!peter parker x librarian!male reader
word count: 2.2k (im being ballsy with these fic lengths its actually fun)
warnings: none really more of fluff
a/n: was in a fluff writing mood :> (might get a part 2 if it gets received well)
masterlist | more peter parker
You did everything by the book, literally. There was a handbook resting on the front desk of the library with everything you needed to do as an assistant. You took the books back to the shelves and made sure it was in the right order. You tidied up the library computers making sure every unit was logged off and the chairs weren’t a mess. You also took note of orders from the teachers, some lists from Mr. Jones, Mrs. Longford, Mr. Hayward, and Mr. Parker. You stretched your arms and legs, cracked your neck, and gave a little prayer to the universe that you wish your formal first day will be good.
Ding!
The bell on your desk pinged. A man, probably in his early 40s, stood in front of you. He wore a loose shirt with a pale pink tie, his hair was brown and sparse.
“Mr. Parker?”
“I’m sorry, I’m Roy Jones, from the math department,” he responds. You gave an embarrassed oh and gave him his stack of books.
“Sorry, it’s my first day.”
“All good kiddo, you haven’t seen trouble yet, good luck on your first day,” Mr. Jones gave a kind smile before walking away.
By 8:30 am the students came rushing to your door, you logged borrowed books, received returns, you even did the occasional hush to students being loud, it was going smoothly. The kid in front of you was borrowing a copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray, an excellent choice you thought. You scanned the QR code inside the book, logged in the student’s info and you kindly smiled while giving the book away. Hours passed of you sitting around, sipping on an orange juice box. By 11 am at least 3 students were studying.
Ding!
Oh. The man standing in front of you was tall and handsome, probably in his mid-30s, he wore a neat suit in neutral colors, and his brown hair was combed to the side. You placed your juice box down.
“Mr. Hayward?” you traced your fingers on the sticky notes on your desk.
“Parker, Peter Parker,” he replied. Shit, not again.
“I’m so sorry Mr. Parker.” you shook your head.
“First day, huh?” you nodded shamefully. He gave you a cheeky smile.
“Yeah, I’m so sorry,” you took the stack of books with the label Mr. Parker on it. He reached out to take the heavy books, your fingers were slightly touching. Your cheeks warmed from the contact. There was a certain pleasingness in his presence. You scanned the pile trying to spark a conversation. “So you teach physics?”
“Yeah, 8th and 9th actually,” he carries the books in his arms, he may look lean but you could see the way his arms flexed under his suit. “Are you new to the city?”
“Well kinda, I was born here but my family and I moved out when I was 5. I figured coming here in the city could give me more opportunities,” his brows would raise while you talked, making you feel like whatever words came out of your mouth he listened to intently. “How about you? Did you grow up here?”
“I grew up with my aunt, went to Midtown for high school, and Empire State in college. So, yeah, full-time New Yorker here,” he chuckled. “My daughter and I still live in Queens too.”
“Daughter?” you said shockingly. He looked down at his toes, and he laughed again, that soft deep laugh. “Sorry, you don’t look like one”
“I don’t look like a dad?” he said.
“I mean you look pretty young,” you bit the insides of your cheeks. “I’m sorry I must have been taking up too much of your time Mr. Parker, ‘twas a lovely chat though.”
“Oh it’s fine, I’m on lunch break anyway.” you waved him goodbye and he reciprocates the gesture. “By the way, Peter is fine, just Peter.”
He leaves, and you sit back down on your desk, your heart beating a little too fast for your liking. Your knees felt funny like they were going to give out. Oh, god. You were crushing on the physics teacher.
Before your shift ended Mrs. Longford called and said she couldn’t go to the library due to her pregnancy. You gladly said you would deliver her the books instead. On the way to her room, you couldn’t properly find her classroom, they all looked the same to you, so you went one by one, looking through the windows and checking to see if Mrs. Longford was there. By the eighth classroom, you could see him. Not Mrs. Longford, but Peter. He was demonstrating the law of inertia to the class, making a funny action of being hit in the hip by force, and the class laughed. He seems nice, and the students all listened to him, taking in every word of his lesson. It was admirable really, to have such charisma over a bunch of impressionable kids and use it to educate them.
The bell rings, and a swarm of students floods the halls. The books in your arms fall as a student bumps into you. You cursed, bending down to pick them up while a pair of arms reached out to help you. It was Peter, he had ditched the suit jacket at this point, his shirt sleeves rolled up to show his veiny arms.
“Thank you, I was looking for Mrs. Hayward’s classroom and I couldn’t find it,” you hugged the book while Peter carried the other stack.
“Mrs. Hayward’s room is in the other wing. Don’t worry I’ll walk you to it.”
“Oh no, you must have another class, I can find my way.” you try to take the books but he moves away.
“No it’s fine, my day is done. Let me walk you to her room.” he smiles, again, that pretty Peter smile.
On the way to Mrs.Longford’s room, you talked about your education, where you went to high school, and in college, and where you live now. The conversation later went to his daughter, Mayday, named after his aunt who has sadly passed. She was 5 years old and in first grade, a smart girl, he says.
You reached the 3rd door in the left wing. Peter told you that the lady with short hair and red cat-eyed glasses was Mrs.Longford, the baby bump also verified his claim. You knocked, and she waved at you with a smile, you and Peter went in to bring the books. Peter and Mrs. Longford exchanged greetings and talked about an upcoming faculty meeting. You asked Mrs. Longford to sign some papers for the book requests she had made and she obliged.
Peter walked you back to the library. You continued to chat about random things, your favorite food (he was pizza), your favorite color (he was blue), and your favorite movie (his was Interstellar). You unlocked the library and turned the lights back on. You went back to your desk and Peter took a seat at a nearby desk. You stared at him, arms crossed, legs spread.
✎𓇢𓆸
Weeks passed, and Peter had been visiting you in the library. Usually, he’d stay to check student papers or read new scientific publications on the school computers, he was nerdy about stuff like that; but most of the time, he just stayed around to talk to you. He would talk to you about Mayday’s science project, which you helped him come up with. It was an iced tea stand presentation that used butterfly pea flower tea and lemon juice, and it changed the blue liquid to a bright purple. She won a silver prize, Peter says.
Peter had mentioned before that Mayday lives with her mom and that she rarely gets to see her dad. You could see the way the line his mouth would make and how it would frown sometimes when he talked about her. You wanted to give him some piece of comfort, but every time he would smile because it was Mayday, it was his only girl.
You were at your desk enjoying a sandwich with your favorite orange juice box, Peter sat on the floor next to you hidden from anyone who came to the desk. He, too, enjoyed a sandwich you made. You scrolled through your laptop, mainly on the news.
“Hey Pete, have you ever seen Spider-man?” you said, Peter almost choked on his food.
“Spider-man?” He cleared his throat.
“Yeah, I mean you’ve been here your whole life you must’ve seen him right?” you took a sip of your drink. Peter thought long before he answered.
“No, I haven’t,” he whispered.
“Boo! You’re boring,” you threw an eraser at him.
“Hey! It’s not my fault he doesn’t swing by my apartment once in a while.”
“Well, I wish he’d come by mine, take me into his arms as we swing away into the sunset,” you waved your arms around thwipping your hands like Spider-man.
“You’re so silly,” he laughs, he takes a big bite of his sandwich, talking to you while chewing. “You know, Mayday’s been asking about you, she said she wants to thank the guy that helped her come up with her science project.”
“She said that?” you were touched.
“Well, I wanted to invite you, and she told me we haven't celebrated her win so why not invite the guy who helped her,” he finished his sandwich, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “You don’t have to if you’re busy.”
“Friday night right? I’m in.” You smiled.
You knocked at the light blue apartment door, you could hear some ruckus inside. Coming! A man’s voice yells. The doorknob turns and there he was, Peter Parker, dressed in a light gray sweater, the sleeves rolled up, and a red apron. Behind his leg was a little girl with light red hair.
“Hey there, I’m glad you could come. This is Mayday,” she was shy but she gave you a little wave and a hi.
Dinner started in a few. Peter served baked macaroni and a Caesar salad. Mayday brought a plate of cookies she made, without her dad’s help, she said (Peter shook his head). You brought a box of pepperoni pizza as per Mayday's (and Peter’s) request. The three of you talked over dinner about how proud you were about the medal and if she ever needed help you would gladly be there.
After dinner, Peter took the dishes, you went to help but he insisted you not. You were left with Mayday in the living room, she was talking about her favorite book, a book about planets. Venus was her favorite, she says. You began to talk to her about the many books you have on planets in your library and if her dad permitted, you would lend some.
“Do you like dad?” you were surprised.
“Yeah, he’s nice,” you offered her a smile, and she gave you a curious gaze instead.
“Dad is always alone.” you looked back at Peter in the sink, the fabric stretching on his back.
“You’re here,” you stroked her hair. “Your dad always tells me stories about you y’know.”
“But when I’m with Mom he’s all alone.”
“What are you two talking about,” Peter stands above you and Mayday, his hands on his hips.
“We were talking about your hair. Mayday said you’re starting to look like a sasquatch.” Mayday giggles.
A few hours later Peter took Mayday to bed. Mayday hugged you and told you goodnight. You bend down to hug her and she tells you to be Dad’s best friend, always. You were sitting on the couch with your hands on your lap. You looked around the place, filled with books and a bunch of Mayday’s stuff. It seems like Peter just lets her stuff stay there, so as not to forget about her presence. Your eyelids begin to fall as you let out a yawn.
“Sleepy?” he mutters.
“Just a bit. My head is just filled with so many facts about space,” you made a mind-blown gesture, Peter laughs.
“She does that a lot actually.” Peter sits beside you on the couch, keeping his eyes on yours.
“She’s a lovely kid,” you smiled.
“She is,” Peter sank his head on the couch, his eyes closed.
“You think I’m alone?” he frowns. “I heard you two earlier.”
“I don’t think so. You have me,” you mutter. Your hands fall on your sides meeting his. He laces your fingers with his, you could feel the warmth of his palms with your cold ones. He chuckles. “It’s pretty late, maybe you should get some rest too.”
“You’re right, let me bring you home first,” you refused.
“I’d be fine,” you assure him.
You were outside the apartment. Peter was with you in just his flip-flops, his hand never leaving yours. “I had a wonderful night.”
“Me too,’ Peter said, he took his other hand and patted your hair. You looked at him with hooded eyes, his hand falling to your cheek. You inched closer, your face so close to his chest you could smell him, like an ocean breeze. His face gets close to yours, the moment seemingly getting more tense. His thumb rubs your hand, over and over, it calms you. Underneath the moonlight, your lips meet. A tender kiss weeks in the making. Your eyes closed and you lost yourself in him. Your lips leave him a few moments later, a smile plastered on both your faces. You hail a taxi cab and when one comes, you wave him goodbye.
But you swore that night, the moment you entered your apartment, you swore you saw the Spider-man swing by, almost like he was waiting for you to come home.
part two posted here
interactions are greatly appreciated btw if u liked this fic and want more send me a prompt and i'd gladly make something from it :>
#the amazing spiderman#tasm!peter parker x reader#tasm!peter parker x male reader#peter parker x reader fic#peter parker fanfic#peter parker x male reader#peter parker fluff#peter parker x male reader fluff#spider-man fic#spider-man x reader#spider-man x male reader
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I do think Harry is super boring now, but what do you think of him during 1d when he wasn’t suppressing his personality? I always thought it was weird cause a lot of people were into him cause he was the cheeky flirt.
Tbf I don’t think having a personality means you’re not boring. I knew more about him during 1d days than now, and it’s more of nothing he’s said and done ever made me think he’s a particularly interesting person. I feel it’s the people pleasingness. Most people I know who are obsessed with being liked comes off incredibly boring.
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favorite song from your world's soundtrack?
"Hip Shop," Obviousleye! Art not its Soothinge, Chill Strains pleasinge to the ear?
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fun game!
sorting taocc characters by which tadc character they're most like
-mod kumo
Uh
Idk
None of them are really 'like' any of the tadc characters except a few shared traits like Rag's people-pleasingness or Jax's assholeness
That's kinda the point of taocc /nm
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I'm rewatching old tfs dbz game LPs (what a sentence!) and man. I know 'yelling isn't real comedy' or whatever but it's so goddamn funny when it's very clearly a few bros getting heated over the stupidest shit imaginable and not manufactured for maximum crowd-pleasingness.
Special mention to the Legacy of Goku where they are in true bewilderment the whole fucking time
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bθiɪɪmnsftɑtrrltiɪrə
Pronounced: bthiiimnsftahtrrltiiruh.
Pantheon of: practicability, palatability, stuffiness, lamellar mixture, elastomer, flux, inattentiveness, rock.
Entities
Ldʒtszdntvzdwrltærzwɛ
Pronounced: ljtszdntvzdwrltarzway
Rock: dolomite.
Palatability: appetizingness.
Practicability: feasibility.
Lamellar Mixture: pearlite.
Inattentiveness: carelessness.
Legends: triangulation.
Relations: ɑʃtvɛəetɪðzfddɑtʃhztɪ (cement), ɛɪbrnðænzaɪddəlvilraɪk (sponge).
Ɑʃtvɛəetɪðzfddɑtʃhztɪ
Pronounced: ahshtvayuhetithzfddahtshhzti
Rock: tufa.
Palatability: appetizingness.
Practicability: feasibility.
Lamellar Mixture: pearlite.
Inattentiveness: carelessness.
Prophecies: protest, road construction, devaluation.
Relations: ldʒtszdntvzdwrltærzwɛ (umber), ɛɪbrnðænzaɪddəlvilraɪk (hematochrome).
Ɛɪbrnðænzaɪddəlvilraɪk
Pronounced: ayibrnthanzaidduhlvilraik
Rock: igneous rock.
Palatability: appetizingness.
Practicability: feasibility.
Lamellar Mixture: pearlite.
Inattentiveness: carelessness.
Legends: dance lesson, device.
Prophecies: head crash, evasion, acidimetry.
Ɪzəeowəoəkəɛsldnðtiɪ
Pronounced: izuheowuhouhkuhaysldnthtii
Rock: igneous rock.
Palatability: pleasingness.
Practicability: feasibility.
Lamellar Mixture: pearlite.
Inattentiveness: carelessness.
Legends: pyramiding, lubrication.
Prophecies: bronchospasm, tying, restitution, roleplaying.
Relations: ɑʃtvɛəetɪðzfddɑtʃhztɪ (ferric oxide), ldʒtszdntvzdwrltærzwɛ (ante).
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Being in a relationship and not being 100% comfortable and 100% pleased is probably the most draining thing ever
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#aesthetic#night#fog#driving#early morning#spooky#highway#road#lights#cars#veri pleasinge to the eye#🥺#yes i use 🥺 now#its so fun
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I made a re-design of metal sonic, though it's very slight I made him look a little more like mecha sonic.
I just really dislike those shoulder pads in the original design. So to make it look pleasinger to my eyes I gave him cape :).
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neil cicierega aesthetic moodboard
#missingno.exe#this has been in my drafts for ages#i was conflicted between Goofs and actual aesthetic pleasingness and idk where it landed but here
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Hey guys.... I um...
I hate to bring bad news... but I'd like to cut down on the physical stuff in rp...
Sorry...
I was kinda getting used to it but now I've played with it a bit I've realised it's really not my thing...
I started letting y'all have more cuz I know it makes you happy... and my people pleasingness just kept giving... cuz giving makes me happy.
But it's gotten a little out of hand... it's hitting the point that it's too much for me... so could we dial it down a notch? sorry ^^;
If it's ok could we go back to keeping affection more fluffy with just kissing and cuddling as the main thing? I might let you get away with a couple things but If we could stay away from the slightly mature side of things we've been leaning into and just keep it safer please?
I'd appreciate it a lot...
Sorry for letting you have so much then stripping it way... ^^;
#the boiz might be miffed with me for a while ^^;#I find it hard to say no...#especially when the boiz say yes please ^^;#i was taught as a kid if I have freinds over we should do what they want#play the games they like#ect#and it always made for a better time cuz if they were happy then so was I#but that's kid logic#I need to get it out of my head cuz it doesn't work like that irl#if you're constantly trying to make others happy no matter what you'll forget your boundaries...#not that I really know what my boundaries are ^^;#sorry#I hate to disappoint you all#T_T#I just can't take it anymore...#so so sorry ^^;#the rules#i guess?#kezi chats#keziha rambles#i'm so sorry
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Is Care
O, the graveyard upon thy Lust; talked
at Forms and world on the take
soft compare riven. While makes wins. These
made eye, ther glance, and the to
wastful face! But treat. S in in
thers fears the Prince they grain the
more us do lightgown runnings send the
meet, no mob me wine pity for
silver, not deemd threat like threaded,
and price by yoult happierce cold may spoil. Villars
were grey “we” he beams… the Peers,
bloody symbols draw me, did you—pooresh
be beetle and on a Flatter
though for despised his Voice is
left babies dance, thou pleasinging the
fallen: scattend, “Ay so, on this
to though Walebones her
you the just as my bonier
fair that in the more I to
evry Pallas: Hebe stare! with
the treet: Drove death his poures
of thou stars fear! Which her one,
when possible countermine hing.”
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Education
Her day duties were pulled from her.
She wished she could be smaller, as small as she felt.
The girl did not understand what it was about her to draw this interest, and she had the aching feeling with every moment, with every look endowed to her from those aware of how out-of-place this all was, that every ‘grace’ given to her was another falsehood.
A little bao flowering from dragon’s claws.
It went unsaid, but Yuko was something less than her Big Sister now. She picked that up from the way that the other no longer woke her to begin the day, always gone by a bell or two by the time Okimoto, now, retrieved her. Neither was the paler girl correcting her anymore, in that gentle way, with how she made her space, folded her fabrics, sat herself, held her shoulders.
They still ate together, slept in the same adjacency. Weaved their soft hands together treading down hallways to the baths, brushed kisses against each other’s hair in passing. But now Hui Xiaohu walked in her own footsteps, and Yuko kept her eyes a little lower, and Hui Xiaohu laughed less, and Yuko’s head started to dip down lower in her proximity.
As did the other women, even the regal, voluptuous, ones that made her think of the Magistrate’s First Wife. They’d never go as far as to be, what she later identified as, submissive to her; scolding looks, and words, and a right to right her, was still there in their older peers. But the normal clouts or twists of her ears and arms never came, and never would they dare again to brandish the fat-sticky tips of their chopsticks at her as they delivered their much-lighter corrective suggestions.
Less a fear of her (and so rightfully so), but of the eyes of those higher now following her.
It made the world lonelier - somber.
It had always been lonely, since she left the Village, sailed across the Ruby Sea to this city, and this new life that had adopted her so over the past moons.
But the other women of the teahouse had been filling some of the cleaven canyon in her - that bare, emberlike, warmth of something similarly hued. They were not as fond, as affectionate, as the Village women. They didn’t speak to her often, or look at her often.
They performed some of the same roles, however. Before this, they chastised her with the same sharp severity, provided the same stoic, silent, womanly tenderness in her past harrowings (in growth and blood). They had educated her in that familiar, almost ignoring, solvent of do as I do speckled with this mixed solute of action.
Now, concerning her, they tread like she were a snake coiled in the dust. Perhaps the nudge of sandals or a word as though to gently coax it out of their paths, but never daring to perform anything with enough gusto as to awaken a strike.
She had never felt loneliness before her departure.
And, once familiar, she had not learned that loneliness could occur even amongst people; conceptualised it as the sort of beast that nibbled at the weak and vulnerable separated from the group.
This new sort of cruelty to the universe hurt, to allow such a discordant feeling to exist in spite of the rationality of company and care.
No one of the Village had ever warned her of such a possibility of feeling this way.
Did her Elders ever feel this way?
Was this something contained to Kugane?
Like an invisible Jindi nesting around this city? As though it were a hive to suckle honey from?
It was always there, an ache twinging into the sac that wrapped around her heart.
Except for… this.
She had consumed her morning’s congee, and now it is time to prostrate herself before the… man? That had been introduced to her on Lady Chinatsu’s behalf: Great Master Geigu.
‘Tool of the Arts.’
This name had crossed her ears before. From the men, and some of the more favoured women.
A teacher, one who held lesson once in the morning for some handfuls of those under employment to the teahouse. One bell, or two, of instruction that equated to a light education, worth more rolls of koban than she was told she could imagine.
A teacher who now took up all of the sunlight to her days.
Today’s set-up is as minimalist as it always would be.
Perhaps moreso, with the lacking miscellania of thick ink-slabs, and brushes, and paper to stroke down character with.
Today it is her, and Geigu, resting upon their knees.
A widemouthed vase separates them; a pretty thing. She’s never seen such luster, colour, or overall pleasingness to something claymade before Hingashi. It shines like reflective water, patterned in flowing pink, and orange, and petal-twists of white.
Flowers, in an orderly and immaculate way that contrasts their natural shapes, are laid out one by one before her; plucked from the lively garden that takes up the center of the teahouse’s structure.
His speaking is not required, and he dislikes issuing order or insisting expansion of her thoughts where she ought to naturally act.
They are returning to flower arrangements, is all. Something insisted as some grand skill of refinement to be expected of her mastery.
Her fingers ghost over the living stems as she identifies what best to use as her focal point. What is the meaning to be conveyed with this piece? Shall it be bittersweet or celebratory? What else is essential other than the depiction of the same autumn outside?
Geigu’s voice is like a wafting plume of incense smoke. It is rich and drifting - distracted. More concerned with Heavenly matters above their heads than with the mortal to whom he imparts his tutelage.
“Recite.”
An education no less cold than Chinatsu’s, but absent her bloodmark.
Perhaps there should be a shame to this, to crave it in spite of the apathy; groping for the bare crumbs of anything that diminished the loneliness. His eyes are on her because they were asked to be on her, after all.
But she’d take anything.
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Okay good. Its still just a rumor. Phew. Now let’s keep it that way. Do you hear me, universe? I FORBID YOU to let him be cast.
Wait. That never actually works for me, nm. Let’s try this a different way.
ugh. Okay, I’m only doing this because of how much I love and cherish this stupid character and how much I have atavistic physiological reactions to that actor’s face and presence and voice and public personality and. Look. We wouldn’t match on Tinder, that’s all I’m saying.
So. Here goes nothing....
Please, oh great and benevolent universe who never fails to deliver unto me exactly what I most wish for and need at exactly the times I most need and desire those things, always in a wholly convenient and easily utilized manner, I beg you to acknowledge how much I deserve to have my...most...favorite actor....Timothee Chalamet....cast in the role of one of my favorite characters of all time, Dick Grayson. As this is the casting that would make me happy and fulfill all my boyhood dreams of someday seeing one of my beloved faves brought to life on the big screen by a sack of flour someone misspelled Timothy on when tasked with naming it and taking care of it and raising it as if it were their own precious baby and then just forgot to ever return to their Home Ecs teacher.
I mean. By an actor of his caliber, and aesthetically...pleasingness. Yes. That.
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