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24

[dissectedfemme]

I love when pretty girls are unapologetically perverted

[joolapopola]

On the daily I think about you - Jason Todd

Warning - slightly suggestive, a yearning man, love at first sight?

AN - So i was originally gonna do a one shot based on the song Pretty Girl by Jon B (btw lub that song, check it out). but then i wanna do a love letter like yk kinda sum to all the boys I loved before. now i wanna do notes. can i ever make up my mind? no. oki.

Not proofread

“Every waking second I spend, you possess my mind.”

[Name]

2/18/26

Some girl just walked into my lecture and holyyyyyyyy she was beautiful. like a woman in a novel. truly a beauty. I wonder what her name is.

2/21/26

[Name]. it so pretty. now that I’ve learned it i dont ill never get it out of my head. [name]. its just so catchy. shit this is embarrassing

3/5/26

SHE SMILED AT ME oml she smiled at me. her smile makes me feel things. my heart has never beaten this fast before oh my gosh. It was like sun beams on my skin. i had to turn away before my face showed my actual emotions. fck did i smile back? i think i did. WHAT IF SHE THINKS I DONT LIKE HER

3/12/26

i think i’ll start a list of her interests here. that way i have more conversation starters whenever i purposely bump into her. also party tn. hopefully she’s there. ill check it out just for her.

3/13/26

[NAME] WAS THERE. what she was wearing was a ten out of five. but thats an obvious statement. [name] looks beautiful in anything and everything. she defiently looks good naked. we talked a lil and i got her insta so stalking time

3/27/26

things to do for [name]

post on my insta (workout gains? maybe a gala pic.)

like ALL her stories/posts every each one

interact at least 3 times a day

courting?

learn about more of her interests

make it clear i’m interested.

4/1/26

this really might be a bummy thing but im srsly contemplating on saying i have a crush on [name] tdy since april fools an all. such high school shit though. ill ask dick and tim for advice

4/2/26

they all collectively decided no. thank goddddddd. i think i would’ve lost my chance if i did. we’ll just aim to become close

4/16/26

last night was scary but all i could think about was [name]. i think she’s really the one. my soulmate. i feel pain in my heart just thinking about her. it actively hurts nowadays. ill have alfred check that out.

I am so so sorry i’ve been gone. again i’ve had motivation so im taking it one step at a time. more tomorrow my lovies. yay

[pinkhoodi]

MY TYPE OF MAN ! ──꒰💌꒱ 𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 .ᐟ ❞ ‧₊˚

⤷ mia’s headcanons of peter parker as your bf :p

♡⃕ ∿ peter parker x reader

♡⃕ ∿ genres && warnings: fluff && suggestive at the end but nothing in detail !! also, the reader doesn’t know that peter is spiderman

⋆˙⟡ boyfie!peter parker…can kinda be like a small puppy and keeps himself lying on your lap. your lap is like his haven, and he feels himself let go of everything when he lies on top of you; clinging onto your thighs and sighing against them

⋆˙⟡ boyfie!peter parker…let’s you try out different makeup looks and products on him, and ofc he would be the best boyfriend on earth to let you know about a new product that your fav brand just dropped. juvia’s place has a new blush palette? getting it! fenty beauty has a sale? already ordered your fav products and sent you the confirmation email

⋆˙⟡ boyfie!peter parker…gives you new ways to experiment on how you express yourself. even if it’s him being the experiment for your creativity, he doesn’t mind it. he’ll even assist if you're still stuck, even though he knows nothing about what you’re doing

⋆˙⟡ boyfie!peter parker…who uses emoticons heavily and is not ashamed!!! “ :D :(( ^3^ ” are his favs to use when texting; he uses them even more than emojis tbh. don’t introduce him to kamojis, you might unlock a new addiction for him

⋆˙⟡ boyfie!peter parker…if not deep into his studies, always the best person to shop with !! especially if you’re one to get tempted easily, he knows how to steer you away and spend more money than you need to. but also great at remembering what you needed from each store you go to :)

⋆˙⟡ boyfie!peter parker…after a shopping spree, asks for a haul of what you got and finds different ways to say how much the pieces suit you. even if it’s basic stuff, he’ll still mention how much he loves it on you

⋆˙⟡ boyfie!peter parker…who created a pinterest account just to send you inspo for hair, nails, makeup looks, etc. personally, he enjoys looking through nail sets on there and imagining you scratching his head with said sets

⋆˙⟡ boyfie!peter parker…who loves loves lovessss a good head scratch. some days he’ll just show up unannounced at your apartment and lie down on your couch, gently taking your hand and placing it on top of his head. if you reach a certain spot on his scalp, you may hear a certain sound coming from peter

⋆˙⟡ boyfie!peter parker…please do hot oil treatments on him. listen, explaining to him might sound a lil crazy to him, and dangerous, but after hearing that you’ll be massaging his scalp, he was quick to agree. during the treatment, he loosened his tense body and let himself feel heaven as you massaged the oil into his scalp

⋆˙⟡ boyfie!peter parker…who isn’t big on pda but doesn’t mind leaving lil pecks to get you flustered or just to catch you off guard. preferably, he likes longer kisses, longer moments of intimacy instead of something that’s rushed (unless horny). who said that ???

⋆˙⟡ boyfie!peter parker…will never stop wanting a makeout session, no matter how long or late in the day it is. he savors the tingling feeling that he gets when you’re on his lap and lightly scratching the back of his neck and letting his lips chase after yours. he adores the little noises that you let out when he presses his hands more intensely on certain parts of your body than others. please don’t let it be a night where he has been feeling a bit more needy than usual cause he’ll be clinging on and kissing you like it’s the last day on earth

𐔌 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘪 💭⭑.ᐟ ꒱

♡⃕ see i was gonna keep going and add nsfw but i wanted to tread lightly with peter

♡⃕ this can be interpreted with any peter !! I did have tom’s peter in mind but any you find fit is okay as well

♡⃕ if you guys want more boyfie!peter, lemme know 😋

𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐏 💗: proverbs 11:25

© 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟨 𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗂. 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽

[kosmogrl]

you have to build the life you so desperately want btw. no one will do it for you

[annaevermore]

Thinking about you and Jason Todd having a regular diner you go to.

It is located not far from your shared apartment, and its squeaky leather booths have seen your relationship evolve overtime.

They have witnessed your first date, with all of the nervousness oozing out of Jason and his unsuccessful attempt to hide how enamoured he already was.

They have witnessed your first breakfast after sleeping over at his place, made of syrupy pancakes and shy shared glances, despite opening up to each other the previous night in ways both of you had never done before.

They have witnessed the first escape from a boring gala, opting instead for a burger and some fries, which you always steal from him, despite having your own. Not that he minds.

They have witnessed the aftermath of your first serious fight — the one that lead to you finding out about his vigilante identity. This time was more silent that the others, with you barely looking at each other. Your eyes were red from all of the tears you had shed, and his ribs were bruised after another night spent fighting crime while you wondered where he was.

The confrontation was brutal once he finally came home, bleeding on the living room carpet, but after destroying one another in ways only two lovers could, you picked yourself up, and without uttering a word you walked to the diner.

They witnessed the way Jason walked in a few minutes after you, wordlessly sitting at your usual booth, not daring to speak or touch you, afraid you would disappear from his life forever.

They witnessed the was Jason stood up, winching in pain, and moved over to your booth, unable to stay away from you any longer. And they also witnessed the way your head leaned to the side, resting on his shoulder.

Just like that, they had witnessed the moment when you and Jason realized that despite how painful love can be, you wouldn't have it any other way, just as long as you go though it together.

A/N: A tiny bit inspired by that one scene in 'The Drama'.

[owlluvrrr999]

awkward first time!

fem! reader x dick grayson 

summary: you have been dating dick for a bit and having been dreaming about taking it to second base! once you do, it seems like everything goes wrong for you two and it only gets awkward  (hence the title)

content warnings: established relationship, some fluff, explicit language, pet names, sexual content (18+), praise, one embarrassing moment after another 

masterlist!! word count: 1,847 (whoops!)

you’d been dating dick for about two months. the love was new and perfect, it was sweet and made you feel like you were floating on a cloud in a pink sky with unicorns with wings prancing around as candy rained down on you. 

you hit a week of non stop thoughts about how he must feel inside of you. laying awake at night, staring at your ceiling, imagining his large and strong hands sliding all over your naked body. imaging his husky voice praising you on what a beautiful girl you are. 

luckily enough, he had planned another romantic date. a drive-in movie, endless snacks he knew you liked that were so much better than the ones being sold at the sketchy concession stand, and his jacket draped on your shoulders to keep you warm. 

his car wasn’t made for a drive in movie, though. you two spent the movie in the front seats with the console in the way of any touches beyond hand holding and his hand on your thigh.

after the movie, dick offered to just drive around. remembering when you told him you loved late night drives, that they relaxed you and were always better with someone beside you. 

he surprised you with a beautiful lookout, being able to see all of blüdhaven. dick pointed to a few landmarks, a bank, a church, and a club, telling you stories about each one. you laughed and placed your hand on his bicep to tell him how funny he was. 

that, for some reason, had been the breaking point.

had you imagined your first time with him to be.. in a plush bed surrounded by candles and sensual jazz music? well, yes. but the backseat of his car was romantic, too. it was small but manageable. besides, it wasn’t like anyone here was virgin and checking off ‘fucking in a car’ on your sex bucket list could be nice.

it happened all so quick, the car’s tiny cabin was filled with desperation. heavy breathing and sloppy kissing. his shirt had been tossed somewhere, so was yours which left you in your bra. straddling his lap, your hips had been rolling up against his now extremely apparent bulge. it had been such an addictive sensation, feeling his cock grow and harden in real time beneath you the second you climbed onto him. 

in the backseat where you both were, dick had been loving on your tits. his tongue dragging along the swell of your breasts, nibbling down on your skin hard enough to leave a mark. dick’s hand slid up your back, swiftly unhooking your bra that you didn’t even realize until the straps had loosened and were slipping down your arms.

he tugged it down carefully, giving you no time to register anything in the darkness before his mouth latched right on to your tit. bringing out a gasp from your swollen lips. the thumb of his free hand brushed over your nipple, beginning to squeeze and grope your boob.  

as you ground your hips a bit more, dick moaned against your skin, his hand gripping at your waist. “oh fuck,” he breathed, having to pull back and lean against the seat to be able to see why he could of you. with his hands now cupping your ass to guide your movements. 

“nice and slow, baby. you’re so fucking beautiful,” he said gently, his voice husky and filled with need to just have all of you. soon, the grinding became uncomfortable when you felt like you were only rubbing against the rough fabric of your own jeans.

dick felt the hesitation in you almost immediately, his thumb slipping into your belt loop and tugging to slow and stop your movements. “you’re okay,” he whispered, seeing that expression of discomfort and frustration beneath the moonlight. “why don’t we—“

“please.” 

you didn’t have to ask him twice. dick helped you by shifting to one end of the backseat and you on the other end. from there, he turned to you, his knee pressed into the leather seat to reach over and begin undoing your button, pulling down your zipper, before sliding the jeans down your legs. 

and just before you could be free, the jeans were caught around your shoes. “shit. my shoes,” you huffed, annoyed you’d been so horny you forgot to take off your shoes. 

“i got you,” dick murmured, leaning down to take your shoes off for you but you thought he wanted you to lift them up to the moonlight so he could see. with that miscalculation, the tip of your shoe met his perfect nose.

“ow!” dick hissed softly as he pulled back quickly. your eyes widened, gasping, horrified. you sat up quickly, afraid to start seeing blood gushing out. it was nothing, dick shook his head to shake off being stunned before he looked at you with his gorgeous smile and cute dimples. “it’s okay. i take beatings for a living,” he reassured you with a charming wink.

that didn’t stop him from throwing your shoes into the front seat after pulling them carefully off your feet and finally being able to take off your jeans. seeing you in nothing but your lace panties, dick let out a low whistle. “look at you. well aren’t you the prettiest girl to grace this earth?” 

“stop it,” you said weakly. you just wanted him to keep going. his voice and his words had been exactly what you imagined but it felt so good to hear the real thing. taking in a deep breath, you bite your bottom lip lightly and reach out to tug at the waistband of his own jeans.

the sight of him hovering above you and his abs glistening under the moon felt like a dream. “your turn,” you tell him and dick doesn’t try to make another comment. he had to get his pants off now. compared to you, he had a much easier time getting rid of his barriers. 

with that, he reached over to grab your hips. “get over here,” dick growled, leaning back to lay down on the seats and bringing you to get on top. and for a while, everything was perfect. 

the sounds of lips smacking and heavy breathing refilled the car, a better feeling with all of your clothes gone and thrown carelessly around the front and backseats. dick’s hand slipped beneath the fabric of your panties, groaning when his finger slid along your wet pussy. “shit. you’re soaked,” he whispered against your lips, using the pad of his finger to slowly rub circles against your clit. 

the kiss was slower now, your tongues caressed each other and your noses brushed against each other with your heads tilted to opposite sides. you lifted your hand to brush his hair back, as you tried to pull away your wrist was pulled back to his head and you heard a second ‘ow’ from dick’s lips.

“your bracelet’s stuck in my hair,” he said gently, not a hint of anger or annoyance that you kept on injuring him. dick pulled back, grinning. “are you trying to have sex with me or kill me?” he teased to keep the mood light, dick felt there was no reason to get upset. life had its silly and embarrassing moments, this wasn’t anything he was going to let ruin a good night. 

“here, let me—“ dick sat up and reached up to turn the light on, his hips bucking up sharply so suddenly. thump. “ow!” this time it came from you when your head hit the ceiling of the car when he overdid his movements. 

now dick felt horrified. his eyes flying wide open as he quickly embraced you, one hand on top your head where you bumped yourself. “sorry. oh, baby. i am so sorry,” he apologized profusely, acting as if he’d done something so much worse than just an accident. 

“it’s fine,” you said, muffled against his bare chest. but you didn’t fight it, relishing in the fact that your face was pressed in between his hard pecs. fighting yourself from sticking our tongue for a taste before he jerked back to see if you were truly okay. 

dick sighed in relief to see you were crying or in pain. “okay, okay. how about we just take it slow, hm?” you nod in agreement, he scoots back to rest his back against the closed door, letting you both take a few breaths to calm yourselves and regulate the fact you two had been secretly too desperate to fuck. 

with your bracelet out of his hair and your head no longer hurting, you both reconnect with a slower kiss and touches that were more intimate and gentle, getting back into the mood fairly quickly. dick’s finger hooking around the lace of your underwear to pull it to the side, your hand pulling down his boxers enough that his hard, aching cock jutted out. you hide your surprise but damn. 

he reaches down the seat where his jeans were, digging around to find his wallet for the condom he’d been saving for the moment he’d finally have you. you shift above him to stay out of his way, one of your hands reaching down to keep the lace to the side and your hand resting on the door. 

“a-ha!” dick celebrates finding his wallet and holds it up like a life changing discovery. he flips it open, adjusting his position only slightly. your hand had been mindlessly resting on the handle of the door, assuming it was locked. when he begins to slip the condom on, you pull back quickly but with your luck today, there’s a click and dick feels the door beginning open behind him.

“wait—“ dick feels himself falling back, trying to rescue you both by holding onto the headrest of the front seat but his hand slips off the leather. the door finally swings open, he knows his fate. quickly, he wraps his arms around you and his hand cupping the back of your head to avoid you get a concussion.

his back hits the ground and.. it was fine. he forgot his car was pretty close to the ground and he wasn’t falling off a building. dick’s eyes open after he’d been bracing for something more painful. he blinks a few times, his legs still on the seat. 

you, however, are in an awkward position as you grunt and try to push yourself back up. as you do so, you’re looking at dick half on the floor staring up at you. the sight of him almost completely naked and with his boxers down leaves you stunned. 

just then, the silence was broken by his loud laughter, his eyes shut and his mouth in a jolly smile. dick turns a bit red from laughing so much but being on the floor really does make someone laugh harder.

“you know what, i think we can just wait till we get back to my place, yeah?” dick is clearly extremely tickled by all of this. 

“yeah..”

𝘢/𝘯: 𝘵𝘺𝘴𝘮 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘤! 𝘦𝘦𝘦𝘬! 𝘴𝘰 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨! 𝘪 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘪 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘥 :/ 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘭

[laneythebug]

this is so cute ugh

[sumuse]

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀everything i need between those thighs

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ jason has a thing for thighs

⠀⠀⠀— 0.8k ៸៸ fem! reader , suggestive content , established relationship , jay is a flushed sweetheart

jason is a thigh man. not boobs nor ass, he loves how soft the skin is in that area and how good it is to lay on them. but nonetheless he loves your thighs. obsessed with them actually.

when you started dating jason you didnt take him as a touchy guy. he was more reserved at first and mostly you had initiated physical contact. but the truth was that he was shy —scared even to touch you. it was that you were just so pretty that be physically shook while looking at you!

and something you never noticed early on about him is that his sight lingered on your thighs. he couldnt help himself! he was just a man after all but he would do nothing you werent comfortable with, he was serious about you and wanted to do the best he could be for you.

as the relationship goes on tho you started to notice and one day it was very clear about his… ordeals.

jason had asked you to come to a gala with him. he normally dips these things one hour in but with you? he wanted to stay until the planners kicked him out just to see you in your pretty dresses he liked to buy you.

but tonights dress? pheww he had his work cut out for him. the way the dress clung to your curves and the slit showed off your legs — he was a lost man.

you had seen his eyes, the way he bluntly looked at your figure and stopped on your thighs and just… stayed there. he was being obvious about it too, so obvious that bruce was shaking his head in embarrassment and slight disappointment at his son. but — jason could care less, his girlfriend was hot, why gotta hide it?

on the way back from the event, the car ride was quiet. the grip he held on the steering wheel was tight. he knew you caught him staring and he was scared he fucked it up — like he always did in past relationships.

“you can touch them yknow?” you say, cutting the silence. your legs sat crossed in the passenger seat while you looked at his side profile. his jaw was tight and he looked like he was holding back of god knows what.

jasons eyes widen, he flicked at you before looking back at the road and you swear you can see his cheeks flushing.

“touch what?” he mumbles, coughing slightly as he adjusts his position in the drivers seat.

you scoff with a smile on your face. you grab his free hand and pull it to rest on top of your thigh. he lets out what seems to be a small whimper as his hand is barely touching you thigh out of embarrassment.

“jay weve been dating for a while now and i saw you looking at them tonight, its fine to touch them you know?”

saying that in your warm voice of yours made him melt. he awkwardly nodded. the fact that you noticed made him feel embarrassed but he had to remember that you loved him very much and this reassurance coming from you made him feel safe — wanted even, and he couldnt want it from anyone else.

so with a squeeze on the plush skin and his grounding hand on there the whole ride back to his apartment, you knew it wouldnt be the end of it.

and oh boy it wasnt.

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁

at anytime he got he would have his big hands on your thighs. it was his anchor, he couldnt not touch them for less than three times a day.

he had a habit of grabbing you by them instead of your waist. if you passed by while he was on the couch, he would grab your thighs and pull you to his lap or give them a squeeze. and for moving past by you, he would put his hands on the back of your thighs, right under your ass cheeks, and scoot with a big grin on his face.

every night when he was with you, he made it a routine of massaging them with lotion, making circular motions. and — of course — always with sweet words, telling about his day and how much he missed you, or the little things he noticed about you that week. its secretly your favorite part of the day.

buying you clothes that flattered them was something he loved. jason adored spoiling his lover but might as well get something in the process, am i right? dresses, shorts, skirts, tights, garments, everything that accentuated those pretty thighs of yours, he was all in for. and the cute smile on your face when he does so makes it impossible to resist.

and nights where he had it rough at patrol or just life in general, he would barge into your place, nuzzling his face in your thighs and laying there as long as he wanted to. how could he not? you ran your fingers through his black hair and the touch of your thighs on his cheek was so soft, it was heaven to him.

his death wish would be to lay on them, just one last time. he loves the softness but he might love whats between them more.

⟢ 𝗆𝗒 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌: i yearn for a man who yearns for thighs

[annaevermore]

Thinking about applying sunscreen on Jason Todd's scars.

The first time you did it, it was almost an unconscious action. Simply, after applying sunscreen all over his back, you moved over to his scars, carefully tracing them with your featherlight touch.

The contact made his breath hitcht, which made you immediately stop, worried you had crossed a boundary.

"I'm sorry, Jay," you mumbled, quickly moving your hands away from his body.

You knew how he felt about them, especially the one on his chest, so the feeling of his muscles tensing underneath your fingers made you internally cringe, almost as if you had managed to reopen his old battle scars with just your touch.

A moment went by, during which you nervously held your breath, until Jason wrapped his hand around your wrist, tentatively placing your fingers back where they had been just a few seconds ago.

"It's nothing," he whispered, his voice coarse, trying to downplay his own feeling. "I wasn't expecting that, that's all..."

His words made something inside you break. You know how he feels about himself — you're painfully aware of that. He often confronted you about how he sometimes feels like a monster, and how he doesn't deserve you. Every time you would reasure him, telling him how much you love him and that you're not going anywhere. Still, his wounds run deeper than the surface of his body, and the faded scars on his skin serve as a reminder of that.

A soft smile broke on your face, and this time, instead of retreating, you leaned into his body. After squeezing some more sunscreen on the palm of your hand, you began tracing each scar, casually leaving behind some soft kisses as well.

"I love taking care of you, Jay. Every part of you. And that includes your scars."

After that confession, this became an habit for the two of you. Every time you go to the beach, or simply to the pool back at the Manor, you fall back into this rehearsed routine.

Jason makes sure to apply sunscreen all over your body — more often than not using it as an opportunity to get handsy — and then, after, doing the same, you start applying it on all of his scars, talking about how sensitive the skin is in those areas and how he has to be more careful.

The first few times, Jason had a hard time getting used to it. But by now, he secretly longs for these moments, loving the intimacy of the exchange.

A/N: I crave casual intimacy with this man specifically.

[dearwalker]

Just one more | sex pollen

Pairing: Clark Kent x reader Word Count: 3.5k

Description: When Clark gets poisoned with sex pollen, he tries everything in his power to stay away from you. Until he ends up crashing into your living room, and you have a god on his knees, with your name in his mouth and your body at his will.

Tags/warnings: smut, established relationship, clark is sorry, he gets freaky with his powers, consent kink, breaks you and worships you at the same time, begging, praising, hovering (yes hovering👀), so much dirty talk (he’s feral but sweet), overstimulation.

Note: Guess who watched superman today and got a new man to obsess about🙂‍↕️ honestly I don’t even know what took over me when I wrote this but all I can say is go ahead, live your best life and enjoy the sweet filth 🫶🏼

archive / masterlist

━━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━

You wake up with a loud crash coming from your living room. You jolt upright from your bed as you hear glass shatter, sprinting toward the noise. You curse as your body, only covered by Clark’s giant shirt, gets hit with the crisp midnight air as wind gushed through your apartment like a hurricane just passed by.

A figure stood where your glass door used to be, leaning weakly on what was left of the frame. You turned on the lamp next to you, illuminating your boyfriend’s stumbling body.

“Clark?” you gasp, confused by his abrupt arrival.

He doesn’t look up, just stands there against the frame, chest heaving and fists clenched. His usually perfect wavy hair is now flat, messy, sticking to his sweaty forehead.

Worry washes your features, something must be really wrong if he looks like he’s barely holding himself together. You start making way over to him, but as soon as you take a step forward he lifts a shaking hand in front of him.

“Stop! Don’t move,” his deep voice comes out strangled, raw as if he’s been screaming for hours. “Don’t come closer…please. Just–just stay there.”

He keeps his hand up to stop you, panting heavily as he swallows to try to soothe his dry throat. He slowly looks up, and groans when he meets your eyes. His pupils are blown wide, as he breaths raggedly through chapped lips.

“I didn’t want to come here,” he whines. “I–I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“What happened to you?” You ask from your spot, fighting the urge to run to his aid.

“I’ve been infected,” he chokes out, and your brows furrow more. “Some kind of…alien pollen. It hit me out there. I flew straight into it and fuck...It’s messing with my head, my body, I…”

He turns away, pacing in small frantic circles on your balcony trying to shake something off. His hands tremble as he fights to not make eye contact.

“What do you need? D-do you have the antidote?” You ask, scared as hell. He never acts like this.

He just shakes his head first with a bitter laugh, only to nod frantically afterwards.

God, if only you knew.

“I tried to wait it out,” he groans, fists now messing his hair. “I swear I did, my love, I locked myself away for hours…tried to fly as far as I could but I kept turning back because I could smell you.”

He finally turns again, but just the sight of you hurts.

“I can smell you, sweetheart. Even from across the country…I can hear you breathing…your heartbeat. I didn’t want to hurt you but right now I have you in front of me and I can see–dammit…I’m sorry–”

He stumbles backwards, ashamed of himself, feeling undeserving of even looking at you.

“You know I can’t turn it off,” he whispers. “I never mean to look, I swear, but I can see you now. Everything.”

Of course you know what he means. You know he can see right past his giant shirt covering your body. And the guilt on his face is gutting. You’ve never seen him wanting to claw his own powers out of his skin.

“Clark… it’s okay. You don’t have to explain.” You step forward slowly. “It’s not like we haven’t–”

“No–you don’t get it!” He snaps, his voice booming through your walls so loud you are sure everyone on the building heard him. He instantly feels worse with the way you flinched to his volume. “S-sorry love… you just don’t get it…you have no idea what it’s like to smell you and know how soft you are, how warm. My instincts are going crazy. I just need to be inside you…I need to touch you, mark you, fill you up until I can’t think straight,” he just rambles, eyes raking through your body.

You take a deep breath, his words making you clench your thighs together and he noticed. Of course you’ve had sex before. You know what he sounds like when he’s needy. But this? This is feral. You’ve never seen him like this.

But you’re willing to do anything to help him.

Always.

“Clark…you don’t even have to ask,” you speak softly, your own eyes darkening with desire.

He shakes his head. You don’t even understand the amount of restraint he’s having right now.

“I do…I always do. Especially now. Because I’m not going to touch you like I should. I’m not going to make it about you. I’m going to use you. Because you’re the only one who can fix me…you are the antidote and I hate it. I hate that I can’t even think straight unless I’m inside you…I need you so bad, darling, I’m shaking–” He cries, actual tears come out of his desperate eyes.

You’re watching a god fall apart in front of you.

Because of you.

You finally cross the space left, and he doesn’t stop you this time. You grab his face between your hands, and kiss him without hesitation. His arms immediately cling to your frame, cold hands slipping under your shirt to roam every inch of your warm skin.

You moan into his lips, when you taste the salty tears on his face. His hands land on your ass, and he squeezes hard, bruising, making you squeal. He immediately pulls back, apologizing. Like he still can’t let himself go.

“I’m sorry–” He blurts out immediately, hands soothing the skin he pinched as he fought the urge to do it again, harder. “God I love you…and I would never hurt you. Never. I swore I’d never touch you like this–unless you asked me to. Unless you wanted me to. So please…tell me you want this too. Say yes, or I’ll leave. I swear I will.”

He nods frantically, trying to convince himself more than he’s trying to convince you.

“I’ll leave if you tell me to,” he insists. “I’ll fly through a mountain. I’ll bury myself in the ocean. Just don’t say yes unless you want this. I’m barely holding on–if you say it, I won’t be able to stop.”

You want him. God you always want him.

The way he keeps asking makes you want him even more. Even if he’s not your Clark now. Even if he won’t take care of you like he always does. Even if you can’t breathe or move after.

“I want it,” you whisper against his lips, nodding. “I want you. You need me? Use me. Take all you want…I can take it.”

It’s over.

The moment you say yes there’s no going back. He lunges forward, tightening his grip on you as he lifts you off the ground to fly you towards the wall, knocking the lamp when your back hit the wall, leaving you both in complete darkness. Only the moonlight left to shine over his hungry eyes.

His massive hand cradles the back of your head to protect it from the hit, while the other tears off your shirt, needing to see your skin or he’ll die. Your panties don’t even last two seconds before they he rips them away too.

His lips crash yours. Tongues are desperate, hands everywhere, so large, so shaky, everywhere at once. He groans into your mouth like a man dying of thirst finally tasting water.

“Thank you,” he gasps between kisses. “Thank you sweetheart…I’m so sorry I can’t help you first…but I need you…I need to feel you inside, please just let me…”

He knows it hurts you when he doesn’t prepare you properly, when he doesn’t make you cum at least twice on his fingers before he fucks you…but he can’t right now. Not when he can smell how soaked you are already, not when he swears it’s dripping on the carpet.

“Do it,” you pant, hungry for him. “Clark just do it… please.”

He doubts only for a second, and then without thinking he rips the suit. Literally tears it at the waist, tugging it to get rid of it completely. He’ll give a damn about that later.

Right now he is just muscle in front of you.

His painful cock springs up, and he presses himself to you with a wet slap, your back hitting the wall again. Your pussy throbs at how impossibly huge he is over your stomach.

You’ve had him before. You’ve barely made it.

You still want him to rearrange your guts. Over and over.

“Feel that?” he groans. “That’s what you do to me, that’s what’s been driving me insane all day, darling.”

He’s not even pretending anymore, his cock is throbbing, massive, already leaking. He aligns himself between your soaked folds, rutting the tip against your pussy a few times. You moan at the friction. Every nerve ending screaming. You know he’s gonna wreck you. You weren’t ready. But at the same time you’ve never been more ready.

He grabs your thigh and lifts it against the wall, before whispering against your lips. “I’m sorry…”

He pushes his hips forward, and when he finally slides home with a snap…raw, hard, you let out a strangled moan.

One long, broken sound, high pitched and helpless, because he stretches you brutally, all at once, bottoming out with a growl. An actual growl. Finally feeling some sort of relief since he got hit with the pollen.

You fight back a cry, lunging forward to bite his shoulder.

He starts fucking you into the wall as he whispers ‘I love you’ ‘Thank you’ ‘Sorry’ like some sort of chant. A prayer. The only thing keeping him rooted to the version of him that is still careful with you when you make love.

Right now it’s just sex. Dirty, rough, unfiltered sex.

Your breath leaves you in gasps, your bare back against the cold plaster, one leg around his waist, the other held up by him. Your arms clinging to his biceps for dear life. All you can do is moan as you get adjusted to his unfairly thick cock slamming in and out of you.

“Just like that…you’re taking me so well,” he pants. “You can do it, sweetheart…you’re doing so good… fuck, you were made for this…made for me.”

His hands grip your thighs. He fucks you like he’s possessed, no rhythm, no thought into it, just deep, hard thrusts that hit something devastating every time, shaking the wall with every slam of his hips.

And the whole time, he keeps whimpering into your neck.

“I love you…I’m sorry…I love you…I’m gonna ruin you …I need it…”

You think you’re about to white out when the room starts moving, but you quickly realize what’s happening. He’s lifting your bodies off the ground.

Still fucking you.

Going up as much as your ceiling allowed him too. He pins you high on the wall when his head touches the roof. Gravity doesn’t apply anymore. It never does anyway, not to you, not to him.

So now you’re fucking hovering. Literally. Unable to do anything but take it.

And you feel him like never before. A complete moaning mess. Nails dragging down his back, mouth open in shock as you look down to the floor. Your whole body is a live wire, and he’s fucking you like it’s the only thing keeping him alive.

It literally is.

His cock twitches inside you. He’s already close. Has been since he walked through that window. But he’s holding it, fighting it, because he needs to stay inside.

Needs to keep taking. You can’t keep giving all night.

“Fuck Clark…I’m gonna–“

“Yes? Do it. Darling please, you’re doing so well. I’ve got you…cum all over my cock, I got you.”

Your body breaks before you can even breathe. Your first climax of the night hits hard, walls clenching around him, as you pant into his chest. Your whole body goes limp and he feels it.

He fucks you through it. Rough thrusts with his hand stroking your back and the other wrapped under your thighs. He keeps thanking you as his cock splits you open over and over.

“I wanna give you everything,” he groans, voice cracking. “Fill you up, stuff you full of me…can I? Please? Let me finish inside you….let me have you–“

“Yes, yes, fill me up,” you blurt out, still seeing stars.

He slams in once more and chokes, hips locked, whole body shuddering as he comes with a moan so broken that came from his soul. He shakes as he fills you, mouth pressing wet kisses to your neck.

He doesn’t pull out yet. He holds you there, trembling, pressed against the wall because he knows you’ll fall if he loosens his grip.

Even after the first wave passes, after the groans, the shaking, the desperate I love you’s, he holds you like the only thing anchoring him to this planet.

“…Are you okay?”

You just nod, breathless, a blissed out smile in your face. He smiles too. And then, slowly, he lowers you back down to the floor.

But he’s not soft for long. He doesn’t even give you a minute to recover. He can’t. The second round starts before the first one even finishes sinking in.

You’re still trembling in his arms, leaking down your thighs, whimpering his name into the crook of his neck. And he’s still inside you. Still painfully hard.

Still needing you.

“One more, please. Just–just one more,” he begs. “Let me have you again. Please, darling I need it.”

“Take it Clark, take all you need,” you nod, absolutely wrecked.

But what’s a few more rounds with your unearthly strong boyfriend?

He melts.

You usually go multiple rounds, but he’s softer, he gives you downtime, even brings you water in between orgasms. But right now he can’t believe the way he fucked you and you still let him have more. But he needs more. The pollen is fogging his brain.

He finally pulls out, just to set you down on the floor. The second your back hits the rug, he’s on top of you again. And god he’s heavy. Solid. He doesn’t even hold his weight like he usually does because all he’s thinking about is fucking you senseless.

He buries himself deep again, groaning, cursing under his breath. You close your eyes, nails digging the carpet, back arching when you feel him deeper from this angle. You pant small whines from the feeling.

“Shhh…don’t–“ he coos, he wants to be slow, but he can’t. His hips snap hard without even thinking. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart…so good for me… just need one more.”

You know it’s not just one more. And he fucking knows that too.

None of you cares.

“You’re so wet…so perfect” he groans, the filthy sound gushing loudly every time he thrusted. “I didn’t even give you time to come down…didn’t even let you breathe and you still take me so well”

He praises. Worships. He looks down to where your bodies meet, and he sees right through your skin. He can see his huge cock filling you with every thrust. He can see your walls clenching around him. And he loses it.

You’re suddenly running out of air when he presses his chest to yours, pining you tighter to the floor with his body as he pushes harder. And you feel all of him. The broadness of his chest against your ribs. The strain of his thighs bracketing yours. His cock still buried deep, rock hard.

You hit his bicep with your hand first, but he’s not paying attention, he’s too caught up on the way your pussy takes him to notice.

It’s not smooth. Not rhythmic. Just sharp, ragged thrusts that hit you so hard your body jerks on impact, tits bouncing, nails clawing at his back as he crushes you into the floor with every rut of his hips.

Your head starts spinning.

“Clark,” you choke out, hitting his bicep again. “I can’t–can’t breathe…”

His head finally snaps at you, eyes going wide. He lifts up a bit, but he doesn’t pull out, he just … can’t.

You finally gasp for air as he shushes you softly, tucking away the hair sticking to your sweaty forehead.

“I’m sorry…I can’t…can’t stop. I tried, I swear I tried,” his forehead presses to yours, without crushing you alive this time.

His hips don’t stop moving. You pant between moans. You’re close again, you can feel it.

“It’s okay, you’re just…you’re so big…so heavy.”

“I know,” he breathes. “I know. I just…I don’t want to let you go–”

“Don’t,” you whisper. “Don’t let me go.”

His expression breaks. Because he knows. And you know. He’s not really letting you go. Not all the way. He’s still pressing his weight into you, even as he tries not to. Because he needs to.

He doesn’t know what takes over him, he grabs your hands and pins them above your head. Watching you sob, moan, eyes rolling back, skin already bruising in multiple places by his grip. He’s not like this. He should be apologizing. Begging. But you just feel so damn good.

And you like it, god you love it.

“I–I love it when you fuck me like this,” you confess, voice barely above a whisper, dumb smile on your face as he hits that spot repeatedly. “I just–I can’t…”

“I know darling, I know…just a little more,” he groans. “One more please. You can take it…you’re doing so good.” He coos, but he can’t slow down, not when you’re clenching him like that.

He picks up the pace.

“C-Clark…please, I’m gonna-“

“I’ve got you, love…I’ve got you, let yourself go for me.”

You see white this time. You’re not even moaning anymore. Just gasping. Twitching. Letting him take what he needs because you want to. Because this is Clark, your Clark, and you’d give him your whole body a thousand times if he needed it.

And he does.

He fucks you like you’re his last breath.

Even after you’re wrecked, limp, twitching…he keeps going.

You don’t even remember the next time he finishes. Or the time after that. Or where it happened. Your body is a mess, trembling and raw and wet and full. Marked all over.

Praised.

All while he keeps saying, “Just one more…just let me stay inside you a little longer…please sweetheart, I’m still hard I know you can take it…this is the last time I promise…”

Again and again. You’ve never heard him lie so much before.

Yet still, with your hair splayed, legs shaking, literal tears leaking from the corners of your eyes from the pleasure, the pain, the strain, the goddamn pollen he pumps into your body every time he comes…

You are having the time of your life being drunk on his cock.

“Fuck me harder.”

You beg, even when you can’t feel it that much anymore. Maybe that’s why you need it harder…deeper. And because you knew that once he came back to normal he wouldn’t fuck you like this again.

“I’m sorry. I just need you so fucking much…I love you I love you I love you–”

You just nod, because it hurts embarrassingly good.

You lose count of how many times he comes in total. How many times you come. You only know time’s passed when the sky starts to lighten outside your broken window, and Clark is rocking into you so slowly it’s more like he’s just holding you in place, his mouth pressed to your shoulder, whispering thank you with every lazy thrust.

By the time he finally slows down, finally wears the substance out of his body after dumping it all inside you…you can’t move. You’re limp in his arms, boneless and dripping and his.

Your bed feels incredibly soft in contrast to all the spots he fucked you on last night.

You’re draped across his chest, tracing the muscles under his bare skin. His fingers are in your hair. Barely moving, just tracing small patterns. Soothing all the strain he caused in your body.

You’re still trembling a little. Just from…after. Your body’s still echoing with everything he gave you. Everything he took.

Worth it.

Clark kisses your temple. He hasn’t stopped kissing you every few minutes, trying to apologize without saying it. Trying to prove that he’s still the man you love, the man who flinches when he bumps your head by accident, who picks you flowers and gets flustered when you kiss him in public. The one who always put you first in bed.

Not the one who just broke the sound barrier flying to your apartment because his cock told him to.

“…I broke your window,” he says, finally breaking the silence.

“Clark…you broke a lot more than my window.”

You both start giggling…somehow glowing. Your throat hurts, you’re sore, probably can’t even walk today or the whole week, and somehow, it feels like the safest place on Earth.

“I love you,” he whispers. “So much.”

“I know,” you whisper back. “You said it like 87 times while destroying me.”

⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆

I created a blog dedicated to Superman, where I’ll be posting my writing for him from now on 🫶🏼 so if you wanna check it out, go to -> @404superman

Feedback and sharing is always appreciated, thank you so much for reading <3

[dearwalker]

It’s getting hot in here | sex pollen

Pairing: Johnny Storm x reader Word count: 7.9k

Description: While analyzing space plants in Sue’s lab, you get infected with sex pollen. Johnny, hotshot, flirty as hell, and definitely not yours (yet) starts looking a little too good in those tight pants. You try to fight it, until you find yourself begging him to save you.

Tags/warnings: no movie spoilers. fem!reader, sex pollen, smut, johnny loves to flirt and tease, long buildup, yearning, tension, hands kink, begging, praising, fingering, oral fem rec, piv, multiple rounds.

Note: It’s getting hot in here or is it just me? 🙂‍↕️ I couldn’t help myself, needed to make another one of these with my man Johnny🔥 also I know this is very long but this is porn with juicy plot lmao, enjoy 🫶🏼

archive / masterlist

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Working at the Baxter Tower had always been the dream. Years of research in botanical science had finally paid off when Sue Storm called, inviting you to study alien plant specimens from their latest space mission. It was everything you’d ever wanted.

And of course, becoming friends with her after months of working together came with many open doors, and benefits. And one of them was her brother.

Johnny Storm.

Blonde, charming to the core, unfairly handsome, way smarter than he let on. Quite the hotshot. Literally. And infuriatingly interested in you the moment you stepped into the building.

Sue said he hadn’t set foot near her lab in months. Now he dropped by almost daily with flimsy excuses, snacks, oxygen checks, dumb questions about leaf colors, all paired with a flirty comment and that unfairly pretty smile.

You rolled your eyes. Every time.

You also got flustered. Every time.

And he noticed. Every time.

And as much as you tried to convince yourself not to fall for his charm, it was practically impossible when he showed up in the middle of the day with some chips and those pretty blue eyes, saying something about how your lab coat fit you particularly nicely that day. You swore you weren’t falling for it. Not for him. Because he flirted with everyone. That’s who he was.

Still, that didn’t stop your heart from skipping whenever he looked at you like you were the only person in the room.

Thankfully, he wasn’t around this time, so you could totally focus on your work with Sue.

"Okay! batch 5FA's tests are catalogued and processed, programming a check in tomorrow. Let's go with batch 5FB," Sue announced, storing the studied samples inside an isolated chamber.

"Batch 5FB is here. Thank you HERBIE," you smiled as the adorable robot placed a glass box with a metal base on the counter in front of you.

You were running a second round of tests on previously labeled specimens, checking for possible medicinal uses. You pressed the button on the base and the glass dome lifted in a soft hiss, releasing a small cloud of white fog from the chamber's interior.

Sue turned her attention to her tablet, scrolling through the database for any notes on these samples. But before she could find any, all the lights went out. All systems stopped working, including the heating.

"Not again," she groaned, setting the tablet down and standing up to head out, no doubt to scold her husband for running experiments during your lab hours.

She stormed off the room, using a soft glow of energy to guide her, leaving you alone in the dark.

Now where was Johnny Storm when you needed him?

If he weren't outside, probably absorbing flames from a burning building, you were sure he'd already be here. Flaming on with that smug smirk before Sue could even reach Reed's lab.

Maybe it was your imagination, but moments like this always felt colder when the golden sun who made it his mission to orbit you... wasn't there.

You lifted your arm to check the watch device on your wrist, one that Johnny had insisted you got 'in case of an emergency', but he just wanted you to have it to continue flirting with you when he wasn't around in the lab. This time being no exception, there was a message from him.

🔥: Will bring some snacks later, I’m sure you look delightful as always. Don’t miss me too much ;)

You rolled your eyes and shook your head amused, locking the watch before you got too caught up staring at the contact photo, set by him, obviously, when he prepared the device for you.

The lights suddenly flickered back on, and the heat kicked back in. Sue re entered the lab, looking proud of herself.

"The next time that happens, he's never hearing the end of it," she muttered, rolling her eyes with a smirk as she made her way back and you chuckled. "Now, shall we?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at the samples.

"I have a feeling this is a promising batch," you joked, eyeing the boring looking plants.

First mistake of the day.

You both got to work, moving in sync through the usual process. It was routine, nothing outside the ordinary, but for some reason ... you began feeling uneasy.

It started with your fingers, a soft, harmless tingle spreading up. You frowned, brushing the sudden sheen of sweat from your forehead with your sleeve.

Was the heating overcompensating? You could swear the room was warmer.

Before you could say anything to Sue, who was still calmly swabbing samples, a familiar scent hit you, making you freeze in place.

First, something intoxicatingly warm and smoky. Then, a devastatingly familiar cologne you knew too well who it belonged to.

Johnny?

Your head snapped around, expecting him to be standing right behind you. That would certainly explain the sudden heat increase, the scent. His scent.

But there was no one there.

"What the hell," you whispered, scanning the lab for any sign of him. Maybe it was another one of his dumb pranks?

Your heart skipped a beat, then started pounding. You turned around fully this time, eyes searching frantically across the room for a possible fire you could be missing.

The smell of smoke was too strong, so much that the air felt heavier. Johnny's crazy theory about the plants affecting the room's oxygen suddenly didn't feel so dumb anymore.

Oh, Johnny.

Those blue eyes. That stupid grin. Those hands. Those tight pants outlining his– wait.

What the actual hell was that thought?

And worse, why did it help?

You didn't get the chance to question your thoughts any further, because the door hissed open, and he walked in. Casual as ever, carrying two drinks and a bag of chips.

"Snack delivery," Johnny called out with a smile, tossing you a wink before turning his attention to HERBIE at the entrance. "Hey, little guy. Miss me?"

He placed the things on a counter next to the door, and crouched down beside the robot, scratching the top of the metal head affectionately. You heard Sue sighing annoyed beside you, but your complete focus was on him.

Because now you were watching him laugh, his eyes crinkling, his forearms flexing as he leaned casually on his knees, and you weren't just staring, you were obsessing. The way his fingers traced little circles into HERBIE's side. A deep red jacket hugging his frame. The outline of his toned chest under that fitted t-shirt. The way his jeans fit when he crouched like that.

Jesus Christ.

You blinked hard, turning away so fast you nearly knocked over a tray of samples.

What the hell was going on?

You weren't even looking at him anymore and still, you could feel him. Smell it. The smoke, and something warm and sweet and masculine. Something him. Stronger now, like it was clinging to the inside of your lungs. You inhaled slowly, carefully, biting your lips to keep a whine from coming out.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him stand stretching lazily, arms overhead, shirt riding up just a little too far. You stared at the plant in your hand like it was the most fascinating thing you'd ever seen, praying Sue wouldn't turn around and notice your soul leaving your body.

"I was right, you look absolutely delightful today," Johnny said casually, leaning over the counter by the door.

You dropped the sample.

Sue did turn around this time, raising an eyebrow as you fumbled to grab it. You knew he flirted like breathing, you got used to it. But not now. Not when this indescribable heat was pooling between your thighs.

"Thanks," you muttered, not trusting yourself to look at him. Because if you did, if you dared, you were about one compliment away from grabbing him by the collar and climbing him like a tree.

And apparently, your body agreed. You squeezed your thighs together, pulse hammering in your ears, because why did that compliment feel like he'd whispered it right against your skin?

"Here you go," his voice startled you when he appeared next to you, placing a can of soda and a bag of chips on the table.

And then he had the audacity to lean on the counter, tapping his long fingers rhythmically on some equipment as he peeked over your work.

It shouldn't be that hot. It's just fingers. It's just tapping.

But god, those hands...

"Did you–did you wear more cologne today?" you asked before you could stop yourself.

Dammit.

Johnny straightened up in his spot, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Actually no, I forgot it today," he said, then tilted his head with a smirk. "Why? Do I smell nice?"

"No–I mean, you don't smell bad. Or good. It's just... nothing," you shut yourself up before you could continue rambling.

"Uh-huh. You okay, doc?" he asked, a smirk on his face as he innocently chewed on a chip. "You look kind of sweaty."

You turned around halfway to the opposite side, facing Sue instead. Safety zone. Sue was safe. Science. Plants.

But even she was watching you with narrowed eyes now. Like she knew. Like she sensed the shift in the air, the pheromones steaming from your body.

"You're flushed," Sue said, leaning closer with a concerned frown. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine," you blurted. "Totally fine. Just warm. The heating came back on really strong, right?"

"You can always take off that pretty lab coat, let us see that cute skirt of yours."

Fuck.

You were going to kill him. Or jump his bones. Or both. You turned your attention back to the plants, and you could feel both siblings' eyes drilling on the sides of your head.

"Don't look at me right now," you whispered, more to Johnny than Sue. "It's distracting, seriously. Don't–"

"Wait–am I making you nervous?" he teased, squinting playfully. "You usually want to kick me out, what's up with you?"

"Nothing. Leave."

"Oh, now you want me out? You're being weird today."

"You're weird every day," you snapped.

He didn't seem to be bothered by your attitude, if anything it made him want to try harder to see how much he could get on your nerves. Satisfied with your flustered reaction, he decided to walk across the lab to grab something from the spot he'd initially been in, but thankfully, got distracted by the robot again.

Sue narrowed her eyes at you the whole time, before turning back to her tablet. "I'm pulling the preliminary scans. Something feels off."

Something was definitely off. You were practically vibrating. If Johnny got any closer again you were not going to be responsible for your actions.

You forced yourself to focus on breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Ignore Johnny's stupid laugh and his stupid biceps as he played with herbie in the background.

"Oh no," Sue gasped, staring at her tablet, and your stomach dropped.

"What?" you whispered, trying to keep Johnny oblivious to it, stepping toward her. "What oh no?"

She turned the tablet just enough for you to read the highlighted results from batch 5B.

Pheromone compound found. Induces increased arousal in subjects, mental fixation on known desires, and irrational impulses toward selected partners. Triggered by sudden light and temperature changes. Potentially dangerous if not treated.

You blinked once. Then again.

"Did I just get hit with sex pollen?!" You whisper shouted. Sue just nodded, feeling sorry for you, at least her modified DNA kept her safe from it.

Suddenly it all made sense.

The heat. The way your skin was buzzing. The uncomfortable pressure building low in your stomach. And God help you, the way your brain couldn't stop fixating on Johnny Storm.

"What's with the whispering? Are you talking about me?" behind you, Johnny shouted from his spot, and you could hear the grin in his voice.

"Don't come over here!" You turned and pointed at him in panic. "We're ... working."

He raised both hands, amused and quite confused. "I was just gonna ask if you wanted the sour cream chips too–"

"Do not say cream right now!" you snapped, turning back to Sue like she was your lifeline. "Sue, get him out of here. Now."

"Why?"

"Because he's annoying, and I can't deal with that right now," you lied, straight in her face, because the reason you needed him gone was if he said one more thing about your skirt ...

"Right, okay." She nodded. After all, this wasn't the first time she needed to kick out Johnny for both of your sake's.

She stormed toward the other end of the lab, clapping her hands. "Johnny. Out. Now."

"What? Why?" he blinked, feigning hurt. "I was just ... HERBIE and I were having a bonding moment–"

"Out. We need to work in peace." She pointed to the door, glaring at him.

He raised his hands in surrender, but that smug grin never left his face.

"Alright, alright, I'm going, damn. Don't miss me too much." He winked as he walked backwards out the door. "But if you do, you know where to find–"

The door hissed shut on his face. You groaned, leaning against the counter.

"Sex pollen lasts around twelve hours. At least, as far as I know. But if it doesn't get solved, what happens?"

"Well..." she hesitated.

"Sue?"

"Your nervous system could crash. You're not just... horny, you're chemically overwhelmed. Your dopamine's probably through the roof. If it gets worse, you could faint. Or ...worse."

"Worse? Oh my god," you gulped. "So I just ... die?”

"It will only feel like that."

"Only? Oh my God. Oh my God."

"Don't panic!"

"Don't tell me not to panic!"

"Okay, okay, sorry," she apologized, scrolling through the information again. "Listen, the data says it gives you fixation on selected partners, so that's probably who you're being drawn to right now. You could get them to, you know ...help you."

You froze. No. It can't be happening. Not like this.

"You do have someone in mind, right?" She glanced up from her tablet, questioning.

You didn't answer. Her eyes narrowed.

"Wait ... who is it?"

No answer, again. But Sue Storm didn't need you to say it. All she had to do was study your state. Dilated pupils, the slight tremble of your hands, not being able to stay still. And the way all of that seemed to have gotten worse when her brother walked in the room.

Her jaw dropped with realization. "No," she said horrified, gaze drifting to the door.

"Yes," you whispered, mortified, hands covering your face from embarrassment. "It's not my fault! Everything he does makes me wanna–"

"Ew! Stop–stop talking!" She made a gagging motion. "Gross, that's my baby brother!"

"I know! Do you think I wanted this?" You groaned into your hands, and she sighed dramatically.

"I'm going to find Reed, he might be able to create a suppressant or something. But listen to me, this stuff can escalate fast, especially if you don't get any release. So maybe just... maybe just call him, okay?"

"What?" You stared at her in horror.

"Only if it gets worse! I'm not saying do anything, don't tell me if you do ... actually I don't want to know anything about it ever," she scowled, walking backwards to the door, making HERBIE follow her.

"Sue–"

"Bye! Good luck! Don't die!" And with a last apologetic smile, she was gone.

You were so fucked.

Not literally, unfortunately.

There was no one here to stop you from spiraling now. No one to distract you. Just the echo of Johnny's stupid laugh in your head and the phantom trace of his hand all over the lab's equipment.

You've been around him all week. He was always touching things, sometimes just to piss Sue off. Flicking paperclips while saying you looked pretty. Tapping those fingers of his on every damn surface before someone kicked him out.

Why were you so fixated on his hands?

"Known desires." Pft. As if. You groaned softly, pressing your thighs together like that was going to help.

It didn't.

"You've gotta be kidding me," you whispered to the empty lab, remembering what Sue told you about calling ... him.

Don't you dare. It's just fake heat. He's not yours. You can't call him because you're desperate.

You sat on the edge of your stool and gripped the edge of the counter, trying to stay grounded. Trying to breathe. Constantly shifting your hips against the leather in hopes of relief. It didn't help. Nothing helped.

Your body was screaming for him. Only for him.

Maybe you could relieve yourself.

First, you decided to get rid of your lab coat. Then, taking a deep breath, you slipped your free hand under the waistband of the skirt, gasping when your shaky fingers fumbled against your dripping folds. You gripped the table harder, nails hurting against the hard countertop, as the fingers inside you moved erratically.

Maybe if you just pretended it was him ...

He was all you could think about after all. The way his voice went lower when he said your name, the restraint he showed around you keeping his hands to himself, or the times he watched you from the corner of the lab, sat on a stool, legs spread wide in those unfairly tight pants waiting for you to sit on them.

Oh, Johnny.

What would you do to have him ask 'Where does it hurt?' and then kiss it better. To have him all over you. Touching you. Whispering something hot and stupid while his mouth kissed down your stomach. The way his hands would feel, how his warm grip would hold your thighs open and–

No.

Fantasies weren't enough. Your fingers weren't enough. It was getting worse, actually, the tension building up in your body made it more painful.

"Come on, this is not happening," you yanked your hand back, staring at the ceiling in utter defeat. "I'm not gonna sit here and finger myself over Johnny Storm like a lunatic."

You covered your face with both hands, groaning. You were dripping. Actually dripping. And no matter what you tried, it just made you want him more.

Twelve hours. You had twelve hours of this.

Unless ...

No.

The moment you saw him again you'd explode from shame and arousal at the same time.

You inevitably glanced over the watch on your wrist. The one Johnny himself synced to his, so you could instantly patch through no matter where he was in the world.

But right now, your salvation was probably no further than three floors down.

You knew he would come the second you called. God, he'd come running. He'd probably make a joke out of it. ‘What, you miss me that bad?’ and then he'd see it in your face.

The need. The desperation. The lack of self control.

And maybe, just maybe ... he'd understand.

"Please... I don't know what else to do, " your hesitant finger slowly reached the small screen, and hovered over Johnny Storm's name.

His contact picture made you press it instantly.

The device beeped only once, and then his voice came through.

"Miss me already?" His voice was light, amused. "Or did Sue set the lab on fire? ... see this is why I should always be there."

Your whole body twitched, relief and panic crashed over you in one brutal wave. He was joking. Of course he was. You could picture the smile in his voice, that stupid glint in his eyes.

It calmed you, only for a second. Like his voice was water in the middle of a dessert.

"Johnny... I need you here. Right now," you blurted, trying your best not to sound like you were dying.

He paused for a moment, and then his heavy footsteps echoed through the call.

"I'm coming," he said immediately, no hesitation, no further questions asked. The comm went silent.

Okay now what? There's no turning back, he's gonna be here. He's actually gonna be here.

You began pacing again. You couldn't think straight, and the heat was getting worse. Because now your brain painted images of him.

Johnny storming into the lab, hair tousled from how fast he walked there, with that smug smile and probably a damn stupid comment.

And you'll have to look him in the eye and tell him why you called. Tell him you were burning. That nothing helped. That you needed him or you would die.

How the fuck do you say that out loud?

'Hi Johnny, so I inhaled a plant's weird space pollen and now I'm gonna lose my mind if you don't rail me on this table?'

You shook your head. Forced yourself to straighten up. Smoothed your skirt, your blouse. Fingers shaking through your hair. If you could just act normal, or look normal, maybe you could buy time. Maybe Sue would come back before anything happened.

Maybe you wouldn't fall apart the second he looked at you.

But before you could control your breathing, the door slid open. And in walked Johnny, with that maddening, stupidly beautiful smirk already on his face.

"Well, well, well," he drawled, stepping inside. "Locked up alone in the lab, calling me back here in a hushed voice... you naughty thing. Couldn't even last an hour without me?"

You didn't move, taking in how much stronger his scent was now. He tilted his head at you, mischief lighting up his eyes as he strutted forward.

"So what, you finally decided I was irresistible? Wanted a private show?" He wiggled his fingers, letting small flames come to life. "Because I do take requests, you know. Fireman, sexy lab assistant–"

"Johnny," you snapped, voice cracking.

Something shifted in your posture then, like all the heat finally caught up with you. You backed away, pressing your hands flat against the cold edge of the counter like it could anchor you. Your breathing got more erratic, and your knees actually buckled before you forced yourself upright again.

Johnny's playful expression changed.

"Hey, hey–" he instantly crossed the space between you, reaching out to hold you but stopped when you flinched away from him. "What's wrong? What happened?"

You shook your head, trying to speak, but nothing came out. Just a helpless sound, a frustrated whimper. Johnny took a cautious step closer, still without touching you.

"Are you hurt, sweetheart?" His voice softened, laced with worry.

Sweetheart?

Your ovaries screamed.

"Johnny, something is wrong ... really wrong with me," you whispered, finally turning to look at him with glassy eyes.

He frowned, worried. His gaze scanned you, the way you could barely hold yourself upright but refused to let him hold you. So his eyes drifted to the table to find a possible reason, landing on the lit tablet, the screen still displaying the information.

"Johnny wait–"

Before you could stop him, he picked it up and scrolled through the content, eyes going wide. He paused, stared and read the entry again. And again. His mouth opened, trying to get a joke out of it, but the shock wouldn't let him.

"...it's pollen," he finally said, voice cracking like a boy hitting puberty again. "Sex pollen? You got hit with horny powder."

"Don't call it that," you groaned, covering your face with your hands from embarrassment.

Johnny looked down at your flushed skin, the sweat glistening on your collarbone, the way you couldn't even stand still anymore, and all of it clicked.

Holy shit. It was fucking sex pollen. He'd read about it before, but never thought he would have it in front of him.

That you would have it in front of him.

"Wait," he blurted, staring back at the tablet. "Wait wait wait–"

You peeked through your fingers, just in time to see him re reading the entry. His eyes went wide, in a mixture of surprise and something else.

"Known desires... selected partners," he mumbled the words, and then, he looked up at you with impossibly hopeful eyes and a grin on his face, “Me?"

You didn't answer him right away, you couldn't. You were sure this was the moment you fainted.

"I didn't know what to do," you whispered. "Sue left and I ... God, Johnny, I tried to fight it, I swear. But I couldn't think, and you were the only one I–"

"Hey," Johnny cut you softly, slowly closing the distance, your bodies barely grazing together. "Look at me."

You didn't.

"Come on," he coaxed, just a little softer. "You're okay. I got you."

Your eyes lifted to his, and the heat behind them made your stomach twist. He wasn't smirking anymore. No teasing, just him, very aware of what he was causing on you.

You hated that it only made things worse.

"I didn't know what to do," you whispered. "I can't think. I can't breathe."

He stared at you for a moment, hesitanting.

"What do you need me to do?" he asked, genuinely. His hands were still on his sides.

"God, I don't even know what I need," You let out a shaky laugh, half delirious, half desperate.

"Sure you do," he said quietly, like it was the easiest answer in the world. "You called me."

Your mouth parted, but no sound came out. So you nodded, because you did.

And then, just like that, his hand finally reached to your waist. Just his warm hand, barely even getting there, but your body snapped like he just sent electricity through your whole body.

You gasped, stumbling back, nearly knocking over the stool. Johnny quickly steadied you with both hands now, eyes wide.

"Okay, okay–that sensitive?" he chuckled breathlessly, still unable to wrap his head around what was happening. "Not that I'm complaining, but usually when I flirt with you, you roll your eyes and then you kick me out."

But you weren't rolling your eyes now. Not yet, at least.

"Yeah I'm just ..." you mumbled, breathless. Skin burning with the feeling of his hands on your waist, warm even through your clothes, staring up at him like he hung the stars. "I feel like I'm burning alive and you're the only one who can put it out."

For the first time in his life, Johnny didn't know what to say back.

It's not like his fantasy of having you spread over the lab counter was starting to become a reality. Only if you said it. If you wanted him to.

God, if you really asked him he would please you in any way possible.

"Johnny..." you whined to get his attention. Your pupils were blown wide, lashes fluttering, eyes glassy with unshed tears you couldn't stop at this point. "It hurts, do–do something ... anything."

"Hey, hey, it's okay. I said I got you–"

His hands cupped your face, impossibly warm even against your already overheated skin. You leaned into them like you needed it, like you've been starved of touch for hours.

His touch.

And you stared at him, he was beautiful and hot and close, and your whole body leaned forward like a magnet. And all you could see was him. The concern in his eyes. The way his thumbs traced your cheekbones so gently. The way he was so close and still not close enough.

You reached out with shaking fingers and grabbed the collar of his jacket, yanking him toward you until your chests collided, until all you could feel was his toned body on yours.

He stumbled forward, instinctively wrapping his arms around your back, pressing you tighter to him.

"...You're serious," he whispered, lost in the way you seemed to be devouring him with your eyes. "You're really not okay."

You nodded, fists clenching in his jacket.

And without even thinking about it, you rubbed against him. Your body moved slowly, needy. Instinctively.

It was just a subtle graze, your hips grinding against his body for friction, for anything. And for the first time in the day you felt some kind of relief.

"Shit, love," he cursed under his breath, almost groaning.

You made a soft, broken sound in your throat at the friction, at the way his thigh brushed yours, at the warmth of his skin through his clothes, at the scent of him everywhere.

Johnny choked on his own breath. He tightened his grip for a moment, just enough to keep you from moving further. You whined, at this point completely lost in the haze, but he kept you firmly in place.

"Sweetheart..." he started softly. "If we do this–if you really want this, I'm not walking away from you afterwards. I'm not pretending this didn't happen."

"Me neither," you answered, a little too rushed.

But you meant it. You were tired of pretending him strutting into the lab wasn't your favorite part of the day. Tired of pretending you didn't want him.

"Please Johnny," you begged, hands moving to play with his hair, "I want you. All of you, today and everyday."

He looked stunned for a second, that 'please' shattering every bit of restraint he had left . He'd been wanting you since day one.

"That's my girl," his hands cradled your face with such devastating tenderness, making you forget the chaos in your blood, the desperation clawing under your skin.

And then, in a sudden move, he spun you around, one arm wrapped around your waist as the other held the back of your head. He bent over your frame, tilting your body backwards, like being swept into a cliche movie kiss, and crashed his lips into yours. You gasped into his mouth as one of your feet left the ground, with your weight safe in his arms, and clenched your fists on his hair. He kissed you hungry, desperate, like this was the moment he'd been waiting his whole damn life for.

You clung to his body like oxygen, letting yourself get lost in the smoke, in the devastating warmth of his body, in the way his tongue dominated over yours. He groaned over your lips, like he could taste your urgency. Until none of you could breathe anymore.

"That's how you do a first kiss," he mumbled against your lips, breathless and still maddening cocky.

You pressed your forehead to his, panting, dizzy, holding on to him like he was the only thing keeping you alive.

"Now show me how you do me."

Yeah, you were going to be the death of Johnny Storm.

That was enough for him. He pulled you upright, spinning you to lift you over the counter. He kissed you again, rougher this time, and with one arm knocked over what was on the counter so you would have more space.

Metal tools clashed loudly against the floor, plant samples tilted over, dirt spilling on the ground, and something definitely shattered.

"Shit," he laughed into your lips. "Sue's gonna kill me."

"Don't care," you panted, tugging on his jacket so he could get rid of it.

"Eager, are we?" he smirked, but complied in taking it off, taking a step back to throw it across the room.

Your eyes raked through his body, biting your lip at the way that white shirt clung to this toned chest.

He placed himself between your legs again, palms laying on your skin, and started drumming his fingers absentmindedly. Like he didn't know exactly what he was doing to you. Like the casual tap of each warm fingertip against your thigh wasn't setting your whole body on fire.

Your breath shuddered watching his hands.

And he noticed. Of course he did, and his mouth curled into the softest, filthiest smile.

"Wait..." he said, mischief behind his eyes. "Hold on. Is it my hands? Is that what's doing it for you?

You swallowed hard, heart pumping in your chest. Your eyes darted to his fingers again, the ones teasing your skin a bit harder now. The ones you've thought about way too many times, in way too many ways.

His smirk grew when you didn't answer. He already knew.

Johnny's hand lifted behind your neck, coaxing your head back just enough so you were forced to meet his eyes, almost glowing golden fire with lust. The other trailed upward, knuckles brushing your chin before tracing the curve of your lips.

"Let me see that pretty mouth," he mumbled, and when your lips parted, he pushed two fingers inside, slow and steady.

You whimpered, eyes rolling back from tasting him. He just stared at you like he'd never seen anything hotter in his life.

"That's it... get them wet for you," Johnny breathed, thumb brushing your cheek as he watched you suck on them like a lifeline. "God, you're so hot."

He pulled his fingers free, glistening, and grinned like the absolute menace he was.

"Open your thighs for me."

You did, immediately, like your body belonged to ever command he made.

He slid his hand inside your skirt, the same one you just had in your mouth, reaching for your panties. You gasped when he finally touched you over the fabric, his fingers pressing between your legs, dragging slow and warm and perfect against your soaked underwear.

"Oh, fuck," he breathed. "Didn't even need it, you were already this wet for me, huh?"

You nodded, biting your lip. "I need you ... please,” the plea fell from your lips in a whisper. “Johnny … save me.”

Now he was staring at you like you hung the stars. Like having you wet, pleading, begging him to be your hero was a kink he never knew he had.

"Shit. Honey... I got you" he leaned in, like he couldn't get any closer. "I got you. I haven't even–fuck, I haven't even really started."

He slid your underwear aside and finally dipped his fingers into you, slow and gentle and so good you whimpered into his shoulder.

"There she is," he cooed. "God, you're so wet. So soft."

You clung to him, nails curling against the back of his neck. He groaned, obsessed with how desperate you were for him. You could barely breathe anymore, his slow pace was maddening, like he wanted to savor every reaction, every sound you made.

"So tight," he praised, kissing down your neck. "You feel so fucking good. You like that, baby?"

You moaned, a complete mess on top of that counter, and he grinned against your skin.

"Yeah you do. Look at you. Already a mess for me."

His other hand cradled your head again, keeping you close, anchoring you to him as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out, curling just right, his thumb starting to circle your clit, It was too much. But not enough.

"You were thinking about this, weren't you?" he teased, hot breath against your neck. "You wanted my fingers in you. Couldn't stop thinking about it."

He was right. He knows he was right.

"Don't worry," he groaned, licking a slow stripe along your throat. "They're all yours."

Every filthy sound of his wet fingers inside you, every whimper you made went straight to his bloodstream.

You were praying his name, over and over, until you fell apart on his hand, moaning, gasping, shaking, he kissed you through it, humming against your lips.

"That's it. Just like that, pretty girl. I got you."

You were breathless, clinging to him, and he didn't stop curling his fingers to feel how your walls clenched around him. He held you there, watching you come undone with pure adoration in his eyes, his free hand cupping your cheek, pressing kisses to your temple, your jaw, the corner of your mouth. Because even after wrecking you he was devastatingly tender.

"God, I could watch you fall apart all night," he cursed, watching your chest raise violently at your first release of the night.

He watched stunned, it was like he was bringing you back to life.

And it felt like that.

Your body yearned for more, but before you could speak again, he pulled his fingers out, and brought two to his mouth, slow and deliberate, sucking your wetness off them like he'd been starving for it. He groaned, like you were the best thing he'd ever tasted.

Your mouth parted, speechless, his eyes locked on yours as he licked them clean, and then slid those same fingers back inside you.

You gasped, back arching as he pumped a few more times, watching your body clench around him. Like he wanted more. Like you were his favorite experiment now.

"Here, you can have some too," he smirked, pulling them out and slipping them into your open mouth.

You moaned around his fingers, lashes fluttering, and Johnny swore nothing had ever wrecked him more than the sight of you, on top the counter, flushed and trembling, eyes wide and glassy, staring at him while you tasted yourself off his fingers.

"So good, isn't it?" He pulled his fingers from your mouth, but let his thumb drag over your bottom lip, pressing it down to see the way your pretty mouth stayed open for him, spreading some of your own cum in your chin.

Not a single sane thought left in your head at this point. You needed him now more than ever.

"Johnny."

"Yes, babe?"

"Fuck me. Fuck me right now."

Something shifted behind his eyes. The smirk stayed, but there was a new weight to it now, dark, focused, possessive.

"You want me to save you, huh?" he asked softly. His hand trailed down from your lip, past your throat, down your covered chest, your breasts, until it pressed flat against your stomach.

He slid you closer to the edge of the counter with a grunt, and you gasped when you felt his bulge, hot and heavy, pressing against your core through his pants.

"You don't know how long I've wanted you like this," he breathed against your lips, dragging his mouth down to your neck, sucking a mark just beneath your ear. "All spread out for me."

"You can have me, you can have all of me.”

"Yeah?" His lips curled into a smile against your throat. "You want it slow, baby, or do you want it how you begged for it?"

"Please, Johnny ..."

"Oh, sweetheart." He leaned back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and gleaming.. "You don't have to beg anymore."

He slid his shirt off with ease, showing off his chiseled golden body. His pants were next, hitting the floor in a quiet thud, and your shaky hands yanked his boxers down. His throbbing cock sprung up free, swollen, showing you how much your desperation had him painfully rock hard.

You had to fight every part of your being to not push him down and jump on his dick until you passed out from exhaustion. But before you could, he was already bunching up your skirt. You lifted your hips to slide it down, but he chuckled, pushing you down.

"No, no. The skirt stays on," he licked his lips. "Been dreaming about this for a while."

You gasped when he placed his tip on your entrance with one hand, giving it a few slaps like he was savoring every single second. And so were you.

He slid in slowly, inch by inch, mouth open against your shoulder, and he moaned. Johnny fucking Storm moaned. Because it was you. Because it was better than any dream he'd ever had. Better than he even imagined.

"Fuck," he groaned. "You feel so good–you're perfect, baby. You're perfect."

You cried out as he bottomed out, clinging to him, nails digging on his bare back, and he smiled, like he was trying to memorize every sound you made.

"That's it, let me hear you," he panted, slamming in so he could hear you yelp. "You sound so fucking good, baby. Look how you take me."

You buried your face in his neck, trembling as your legs lifted to wrap around his waist. To try and get him to go deeper.

"You've been driving me crazy for months," he grunted, slamming in again. "All those times you rolled your eyes at me? You have no idea what I was thinking."

It didn't take him longer to fuck into you, hard, immediately hitting that spot. You were already a moaning mess, fingers digging into his shoulders. With both hands he grabbed your blouse, and pulled to rip the fabric, snapping the buttons open. Next was your bra, like he finally decided he needed to see your boobs bouncing with every thrust.

"I've wanted you ... needed you" he breathed, diving in to get lost in your chest. "For so long..."

And he showed you how much. With the way he sucked your nipples. With the way his hips snapped forward to make you gasp. With the way his hands roamed all over your body. Or the way he groaned into your neck as he pushed himself balls deep into your soaked pussy.

"Fuck– Johnny," you panted, head dropping back, "you're so big ... feels so good."

"Yeah?" he smirked against your skin, "too much already?"

"Never," you shook your head. "Harder, Johnny. Fuck me harder."

Yeah, this was definitely better than any fantasy he's ever had.

He smiled, god he smiled. Looking devilishly sweet while wrecking your entire body. Completely undoing you.

He picked up the pace, driving into you just right, hands gripping your hips like he owned them. Every thrust knocked another moan from your lips, and every moan made him laugh softly, like he couldn't believe how lucky he was to be inside you like this.

Your breath started getting shorter, nails digging deeper into his skin, and he felt the way your body was crashing under him.

"C'mon, sweetheart, I got you. Let go for me. Let me feel you." He groaned, and that was it.

You fell apart in his arms for the second time with a cry, pulsing around him, and Johnny just lost it. He kissed you hard, hips stuttering as he came inside you with a low, broken groan. His cum filled you deep. So warm, warmer than anybody's ever was.

And it drove you insane.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, your body arching to meet his, and Johnny leaned back just enough to look at you, eyes scanning your flushed face, your swollen lips, the blissed out haze in your eyes.

"You're beautiful like this," he said, running his thumb softly over your skin. "You know that? Fucking stunning. Never letting you go."

Now it's you smiling, dazed, lost in his eyes as you tried to catch your breath.

"You're everything Johnny," you whispered, your hands cradling his face. "You're so good to me."

He smiled, then leaned forward, catching your lips in a soft kiss. Your mouths moved like they knew each other. Like they belonged. And god he was a good kisser, but the pollen in your body made you crave for more.

You didn't mean to lunge, really, but the next thing you knew was you surged forward. Caught off guard, he stumbled backwards, holding your waist, your body landing on top of him as his back touched the floor.

Johnny was still panting from his high, from the kiss, and now he was sprawled out on the floor, chest rising and falling in aftershocks when you climbed closed to his face.

He looked up at you, stunned for a second, then grinned.

"You're not done with me yet, huh?" he placed both hands behind his head, biceps flexing. "Okay, don't let me stop you."

You grinned, kissing down his jaw, over his throat, his collarbone, your hands dragging down his toned chest like you needed to feel every inch of him again. His skin hot, like always, matching the fire rolling under your skin now. Your hips rolled instinctively against his thigh and he groaned, head tipping back.

"Shit–" he hissed, eyes squeezing shut. "Baby, gimme a second to –"

"I can't," you pouted, breath hot against his skin. "It's still burning ... I need more of you, Johnny."

"Oh... well," he said, lips curling into a crooked smile, "when you put it like that–"

You kissed him before he could finish, grinding down against him with reckless need, and he groaned, his hands flying to your hips.

"Okay, okay, fuck–" he breathed, eyes fluttering shut as your body moved against his. "You're not just using me for my stamina, are you?"

"Maybe a little," you chucked against his mouth, and he laughed.

"Fair enough."

"It just ... it still hurts."

"I know," he muttered. "I know, sweetheart. Let me help, yeah?"

He propped himself up with his elbows, one hand on your back as he flipped you over and placed you gently on the floor.

"Let me take care of you, just relax for me," he whispered, pressing his hands to open your thighs again. "I wanna taste you first ... Gotta get my strength back somehow, right?"

He slid down your body slowly, kissing his way across your ribs, your hips, trailing open mouthed heat everywhere until his face was between your thighs. His hands cradled them, thumbs sweeping over your skin. He couldn't believe the way you whimpered when he was marking every inch of your skin.

"I know, sweetheart," he cooed, voice so soft, mouth ghosting over your skin. "I know you're sensitive. Just let me make it better."

He draped your legs over his shoulders like they belonged there, kissing up your inner thighs, tongue teasing so slowly you could cry. And when he finally pressed a hot, open mouthed kiss right where you needed it...

You shattered again.

"Johnny–"

You arched into him and he groaned like he was the one coming apart.

"You taste so good, baby," he praised as he began licking loudly. "So sweet ... fuck– I've wanted this for so long..."

His tongue moved swiftly, unrelenting and deliberate, while his hands pinned your hips down. You were a writhing mess, overstimulated and dripping for him, but still moaned his name over and over.

It wasn't just pleasure, every brush of his tongue was relief. Like he was cooling the fever from the inside out.

"That's what you needed, huh? All worked up and no one to help you ... what kind of man would I be if I left my girl like that?"

‘My girl.’

His girl.

"Johnny ... Please don't stop."

"I won't," he promised, smiling against your wetness. "Not until you feel safe again."

And he meant it. His lips worked you open, his tongue tracing lazy circles and long, aching strokes until you were gasping and crying out, trembling so hard your vision blurred.

He moaned against you like he was addicted. His nose brushed your clit with every pass, and it was torture, sweet, unbearable, perfect torture.

Your hands flew to his hair, tugging him closer, desperate, and he loved it, humming low as he flicked his tongue faster, coaxing another release from you, watching you fall apart all over again.

He blinked up at you, dazed and stunned and so fucking gone for you. "You're gonna kill me," he said, completely in awe. "What did I do to deserve this?"

You, spread in front of him, barely able to breathe anymore.

Body still begging for more.

He was ready for another round in no time.

You weren't sure how many rounds you ended up doing. Or how many places you begged him to fuck you on. All you remembered was begging 'one more time', "please Johnny, another one", "Johnny just one more".

It was never 'just one more'. You completely drained him after many hours, until the itch was finally gone.

Not that Johnny ever complained. If anything, he had fulfilled all of his ‘known desires on his preferred partner’ too.

Thank god for sex pollen.

You weren't sure how long you were out, your body gave in before your brain could catch up. The ache between your legs was evident but warm, the weight of Johnny's love still lingering on your skin. You woke up slowly, your cheek resting against a very toned chest, the faint scent of sweat and smoke clinging to him like a memory.

The lab was dark, save for the soft flickering light pulsing from a single, familiar source.

Johnny.

He was still beneath you, one arm wrapped around your waist, the other lazily raised. At the tip of his finger, a small flame danced, gentle, hot, nothing like the infernos he usually conjured. Just enough to light his face in amber glow.

You blinked up at him.

He wasn't looking at you, not at first. Just drawing slow circles on your back with his thumb, eyes were distant. Thoughtful.

Then he felt you stir.

"Hey," he rasped, smiling down at you.

You swallowed hard, everything flooded back. The lab. The counter. The floor. The workbench. Your hands in his hair, your name on his tongue, the way he held you like you were made for him.

And now... this.

Quiet. Intimate. Real.

"Sorry," you whispered, still sprawled half on top of him. "I didn't mean to fall asleep on you."

He chuckled softly, his chest shaking under you.

"After everything that happened that's the last thing you should be apologizing for, sweetheart," he teased, lowering the flame a little. "Besides, it's not the worst way I've ever spent a night in the lab. I love having a very satisfied hot girl passed out on my chest."

You laughed softly, feeling that familiar heat creeping up your cheeks. But something made you doubt for a second.

'After everything that happened, that's the last thing you should be apologizing for.'

Guilt washed over you. The goddamn pollen.

"Johnny... earlier... I didn't mean–"

"Wait don't," he stopped you softly, sitting up a bit so he could see your face better. "Don't say you didn't mean it."

His expression shifted, firelight dancing in his eyes, but something in him doubted too. Like maybe it was the pollen after all.

That couldn't be farther from the truth.

"No, no that's not what I meant," you immediately corrected, and sighed. "I didn't mean to make you feel used, or... like I didn't care."

His gaze softened a little.

"You didn't," he mumbled, still holding his breath in case you sent him to hell after this.

You inhaled slowly, and everything you'd been holding back just tumbled out.

"What I said earlier... that you're everything? It wasn't just the pollen talking," you confessed. "You are, Johnny. I mean it."

His whole expression cracked open, surprised, glowing, like someone just handed him his heart back.

"Damn," he said softly, lips curling into a grin. "You're really gonna say that to me while I'm naked and emotionally compromised?"

You laughed, burying your face in his neck.

"Shut up," you mumbled, but you were smiling too.

He pulled you closer, his free hand trailing over your spine.

"Nah, too late," he grinned. "You're into me. Can't take it back now."

"Ugh, why did I say anything."

"Because you love me. Or at the very least, my hands."

You groaned. He laughed again, delighted, confident, soft. He lifted the flame again and watched the orange glow reflect on your skin.

"So what now?" you whispered.

"Now?" He shrugged. "You keep laying here. I keep lighting up the room. We do this again when you're not on a heat spiral."

"Johnny–"

"What?" he smirked. "You like my fingers, admit it."

You shook your head, "I wasn't that into them."

"No, no, don't even try to downplay it now," he accused, all smug. "You weren't just into my hands. You were like ... obsessed with them."

You groaned and buried your face in his chest like that would protect you from the embarrassment clawing up your throat.

"Johnny–"

"No, seriously," he continued with mock innocence. "I've never seen someone stare at my fingers like that. You were practically drooling. I thought I was gonna have to get a towel."

"Stooop," you whined, voice muffled, your whole body heating up again, and not from the pollen this time.

He laughed, wicked and loving all at once.

"But hey," he said, turning serious in the most unserious way, "you can have them now, you know. Anytime you need them."

"Yeah?" you asked, a glint of mischief in your eyes. "What about now?"

Little extra scene

⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆

feedback is always appreciated, thank you so much for reading 🫶🏼

[pluvial-lake]

➤ THERE'S A SPIDER IN THE CLOSET .ᐟ

synopsis ⠀:: ⠀ he was just trying to make sure everything's okay, that you're taking care of yourself. but you come home early and he had to hide in your closet. it's not like he wants to see you naked or watch you fuck your toy. it's all an accident, alright?!

including ⠀! ⠀ peter parker. ✶

contents ⠀! ⠀ spiderman : brand new day (no spoilers tho). fem reader. dark peter. obsessive behavior. nsfw. voyeurism. masturbation. use of sex toys. angst. reader is peter ex girlfriend who don't remember him, obviously. he's kinda fucked up in the head. gif by @.milesgmorales. masterlist. english is not my first language. ✶

He didn't mean for this to happen.

He swears he didn't. He was just checking on you. Making sure your windows were locked, your fire alarm had fresh batteries, your fridge wasn't empty because sometimes you forget to eat when you're stressed and he can't have that, he won't have that, not when he's supposed to be taking care of you. You’d thank him if you knew.

And then your key turned in the lock.

Early. You came back early.

Why you're back early? You weren't supposed to be here for another two hours, he checked your schedule, he knows your schedule, tuesday is yoga and grocery shopping and then that overpriced coffee place where you always get the same oat milk latte and you sit by the window and he watches you from across the street and you look so peaceful and so fucking beautiful and—

Focus, Peter. Focus.

You were inside. Keys on the hook. Shoes kicked off. Humming something under your breath that made his chest ache because he recognized it, he knew that song, it was playing the first time you let him kiss you, the first time you tangled your fingers in his hair and called him sweet—

Alright alright he have to get out. He have to get out!!!

No time for the window. No time for the ceiling.

What the fuck what the fuck what the—

The closet.

The fucking closet. He barely got the door shut before you walked in, and now he’s folded behind your winter coats, breathing through his mask, heart hammering so loud he’s sure you can hear it. His hands are shaking, his whole body is shaking, and he can't breathe, he can't breathe but he has to be quiet, has to be fucking quiet—

It’s fine. It’s fine. He just has to wait. Be patient. You’ll fall asleep eventually and then he can slip out. Just wait. Then everything be fine. Easy. Simple. He's done harder things. He can sit in a closet for a few hours without losing his goddamn mind.

But you're not.

Oh god, you're fucking not.

He clenches his jaw. Waits. The closet smells like you. Your shampoo, your detergent, that faint vanilla body spray you’ve used since tenth grade. He’s dizzy with it.

And you're just—you're standing there, in the middle of your bedroom, and you're reaching for the hem of your shirt and—

Wait.

Wait wait wait wait—

Why are you getting naked?????

The shirt goes up. Over your head. Tossed onto the chair in the corner.

God damnit. Look away. Look away right now, Parker. Close your eyes. You’re better than this. You’re a hero. You’re her boyfriend not some pervert hiding in the closet with his mouth open and his cock—

But you’re so pretty.

The curve of your shoulders, the way your hair falls messy against your skin, the little mole on your left shoulder blade that he used to kiss, used to run his tongue over just to hear you giggle and squirm—

Look away look away look away—

DON'T FUCKING LOOK!!

He tries. He genuinely tries. He squeezes his eyes shut so hard he sees colors blooming behind his lids, and he counts to ten, and he tells himself he's not going to look, he's a good person, he's respectful and he loves you and he don't want to...

But it’s been so long since he’s seen you like this.

Your jeans. You’re taking off your jeans. The button pops and the zipper whisper hisses down and he can see the edge of your underwear, plain cotton, the kind you always wore on lazy nights when you didn’t expect anyone to see.

You’re naked now.

And he's not looking away.

It's a violation of privacy—

No it's not! You're his girlfriend!

Well, you don't remember him, but that doesn't change the FACT that he's your boyfriend. Your high school sweetheart. The guy who held your hand through every panic attack, who learned how to braid your hair because you said it helped you relax, who gave you his virginity in his aunt's apartment while it rained outside and it was the first time you told him you love him—

And also, it's not like he hid in your closet on purpose! He didn't PLAN this!! This is just... circumstances! Bad timing. A misunderstanding, yeah that's it! If you knew the truth, you'd understand. You'd forgive him. You always forgave him.

So maybe it's fine if he watches. Just for a little while. Just until you're asleep. It's not like he hasn't seen you naked before. You were his girlfriend. His first everything. The woman who taught him how to kiss without emberassing himself, how to use his tongue to make you cum, how to angle his hips just right to hit that spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back.

"Right there, Pete, right there, don't stop—ahh love you love you love you—"

Love him.

You love him.

He missed it.

He missed your voice. Missed the way you gasped, the way your nails raked down his back, the way you clenched around him so tight he thought he might die from how good it felt. And you smiled at him afterward, sweaty and glowing and proud, and you said he was a fast learner.

Of course he is. He's a smart guy. Not that he's bragging, but truth is just truth.

You always said he was the best you ever had.

Do you still think that?

Would you still think that, if you remembered him?

Do you remember him?

Of course you don't.

Hahaha. Peter Parker don't exist anymore. What the fuck is he even thinking?? Stupid stupid stupid—

Huh?

Oh.

His face is wet again.

Tears sliding down his cheeks and soaking into the fabric of his mask.

When did that happen? When did he start crying?

Doesn’t matter.

He’s gotten good at crying without making a sound. Good at a lot of things he never wanted to be good at.

Don't. Don't you fucking cry right now. You're not a kid, why the fuck are you crying?

Because he misses you.

He misses you so much it feels like someone scooped out his insides and left him hollow. You don't look at him anymore. You don't smile at him anymore. You walk past him on the street like he's a stranger, and every time it kills him but at least you're alive, at least you're safe, at least he can still protect you even if you don't know he exists—

Oh him? No he's great. He's fantastic. What are you talking about? Pfffff—

He's not sad. He's not lonely. He's not spending every night curled up in his suit, jerking off into your sock while he replays memories of your laugh on a loop in his head.

No, no, he's fine. Everything is fine. What's important is that you're safe. That's all that matters.

Okay. Okay, get your shit together and just shut the fuck up until it's over. You can have a breakdown later. In private. Like you always do.

When he looks back through the slats of the closet door, you're on the bed.

When did you get on the bed??

He must have blacked out for a second. It happens a lot these days.

You're stretched out on top of the covers, completely naked (when did you took off your panties?) and the lamplight is hitting your skin in a beautiful way that make his mouth water. Your hair is fanned out on the pillow. Your legs are slightly parted. And your hand is lazily trailing down your stomach like you have all the time in the world and—

Nope.

Nope nope nope.

Don't think about it, Peter.

Just don't fucking think about it.

But it's been so long.

So fucking long since he touched you. Since he tasted you. Since he heard the little sounds you make when you're turned on, those breathy, helpless whimpers that drive him insane. And if you knew he was your boyfriend, you wouldn't have a problem with this. You'd probably invite him out of the closet. You'd probably pull him onto the bed and let him take over, let him worship you the way you deserve, because that's what you used to do, that's what you used to want.

So it's okay, right?

It's okay if he touches himself. Just a little. Just to take the edge off. He'll be quiet. He'll be so fucking quiet. You won't even know he's here.

He's just palming himself through his suit, see? No big deal.

His breath stuttering. He unzips his suit slowly, one careful inch at a time. His cock springs out, already hard, already leaking, the head slick and flushed and obscene in the dim light filtering through the closet slats. He wraps his hand around himself and bites down on his lip so hard he tastes copper.

You’re touching yourself.

Fuck you're so pretty.

Just like always.

You cup your breast, thumb brushing over the nipple, and he watches it tighten under your touch. Watches you pinch it, roll it between your fingers.

Yeah yeah yeah.

Play with your tits just like that. Pinch them. You always liked it when he did that. Always liked it when he got a little rough, when he pushed you just enough to make you feel it the next day—

He remembers doing that, remembers the way you'd arch into his mouth when he sucked on you, the way you'd gasp his name and told him you love him.

He's stroking himself now. Slow. Trying to match your rhythm. His palm is too dry, the friction almost painful, but he don't care because you're spreading your legs wider and your other hand pushing deeper inside—

Fuck.

Shit.

Shit shit shit shit—

The closet door creaked. He moved. He fucking moved and his elbow hit the door and it creaked.

You heard him didn't you?

Fuckfuckfuck—

You heard it, oh god you definitely heard it, your head just turned toward the closet and you're looking right at him, right through the slats, and he can see your brow furrowing, can see the question forming on your lips—

Why are you standing up???

Wait. Wait. Wait.

STOP!!!

He can't breathe. He can't move. His hand is frozen on his cock, pre cum dripping onto his knuckles, and his heart is slamming against his ribs so hard he probably going to have a stroke.

You're going to find him, and he's going to have to explain, going to have to watch your face twist into fear and disgust and he's going to have to see the moment you realize spiderman is a creep who hides in women's closets and watches them—

Oh...

You're not looking at the closet anymore.

You're bending down. Reaching under the bed. Pulling out a box.

It's your toy box, the one he knows about because he's gone through it half a dozen times because you two used to play together and now when you're not home, he replace the batteries in your vibrator and clean your plugs even though you probably wondering why they were suddenly spotless—

You're pulling out a dildo.

The one you custom ordered online for your two years anniversary. Modeled after his dick, every vein and every curve. Everything exactly like his.

You hold it up and a little smile tugs at the corner of your mouth.

You like that one, don't you? You always reach for it. He's seen you. He's seen you more times than he should admit, and every time you pick this, every time you choose this over the others—

Okay. Okay, everything's okay. Thank god. Thank fucking god.

But he needs to be quiet. He was loud. Too loud. He needs something to muffle himself.

And there—right there beside his foot—a pair of panties. Lace. Red. The little bow on the front slightly frayed from too many washes.

He recognizes them. Of course he recognizes them. He bought them for you. Four years ago. Valentine's Day. You wore them for him that night and then peeled them off slow, teasing, throwing them over your shoulder with a grin and then he eat you out until his knees bruised.

He picks them up. Brings them to his face. Inhales before he can stop himself.

Fuck.

He shouldn't. He really shouldn't. But he's already folding them, already pressing them past his lips, already biting down on the fabric, and the taste of you—even secondhand, even laundered—floods his senses and makes his eyes roll back.

Okay. Okay, now he can be more comfortable. Now he can jerk off without giving himself away.

You don't mind, right? No? Okay thanks.

You're on the bed again. Propped up against the pillows. The dildo is in your hand but you're not pushing it inside yet.

No, you're teasing yourself. Just like you always used to.

Running the tip along your slit. Circling your clit. Getting it wet with your own arousal while your hips twitch and your breath hitches and you make those perfect little sounds that he loves too fucking much.

You always wanted him to tease you first. Always wanted him to rub the head of his cock against your pussy, back and forth, back and forth, until you were so needy you couldn't do anything but beg—

"Please, Pete, please, I need you inside me—"

Go on. Put it in. You've teased yourself long enough, sweet girl. Put it in.

And then you do.

The tip slides inside you, stretching you open, and Peter watches your mouth fall open, watches your back arch off the mattress, watches your hand fly up to grip the sheets. And the sound you make goes straight to his cock and nearly make him cum right there.

Yeah. Yeah, just like that. Pretty girl. Such a pretty fucking girl.

His pretty, gorgeous, perfect girl.

He strokes himself faster. The pre cum ease the friction. His eyes are glued to the place where the dildo disappears inside you, the way your hips start to roll, the way your thighs tense and tremble.

Aww, look at you. You're so desperate, aren't you?

Yeah baby? You want to get off? You want to cum?

You want him, don't you? You want his cock?

So bad you don't remember your boyfriend, right?

So fucking bad he just can stalk you on the street.

So bad he had to break your date’s teeth down his throat last month when the guy got too handsy at the bar.

So bad he has to hide in closets like a fucking cockroach instead of fucking your brains out like he used to, instead of holding you after and listening to your heartbeat slow down while you trace patterns on his chest—

So bad Peter Parker doesn't exist anymore.

Haha.

But it’s fine. He can protect you better now. Spiderman doesn’t have a curfew. Spiderman doesn’t have a secret life to care about. Spiderman can be on your fire escape every night, can follow you home through the subway tunnels, can crawl across your ceiling while you sleep and make sure you're breathing and your nightmares stay away.

He's protecting you.

Yeah. He knows you get scared sometimes. He's seen the way you double check your locks at night, the way you jump at shadows, the way you told your friend on the phone that you think someone's following you. "I think I have a stalker," you said, voice trembling, and Peter had to press his forehead against the wall and breathe through the urge to break something.

You called him a stalker.

He's not a fucking stalker. He's your BOYFRIEND. The man who loves you more than anyone has ever loved anyone in the history of the entire goddamn universe. The man who would crawl through hell just to see you smile. The man who let you go because it was the only way to keep you alive, and he'd do it again, he'd do it a thousand times, even if it meant you'd never know his name.

So what if he beat up your date? You were about to cheat on him. Yeah, yeah, you don't remember him, he knows, but what if you REMEMBERED and you'd already cheated on him and then you were going to hate yourself and feel guilty because how could you cheat on your high school sweetheart? The boy who held your hair back when you were sick, who stayed up all night helping you study for exams, who looked at you like you hung the goddamn moon?

You'd hate yourself. You'd be so guilty. You be a bitch. A horrible, disgusting piece of shit—

No. No no no, baby, you're not that. It's not your fault. Peter knows it's not your fault. He's not blaming you. He could never blame you. You're a victim in all this, you're innocent, you're perfect, you're the only good thing left in his miserable excuse for a life.

He's just helping you stay loyal. That's all. Helping you be the person you'd want to be, if you could remember. You're welcome.

"Ahh—fuck—"

You're close, aren't you, sweet girl? Yeah, you're close. He can see it in the wetness spreading down your ass, the way your nipples are tight and peaked, the way your hips are bucking up to meet the toy like you're fucking it instead of the other way around.

You're going to cum. He can tell by the way your rhythm is faltering, the way your thighs are starting to shake, the way your free hand has is now frantically rubbing your clit in needy, desperate circles.

Go on. Go faster. Faster. Yeah, just like that. Fuck, you're perfect, you're so fucking perfect, look at you taking it like a good girl.

His good girl. His.

Play with your clit. Yeah, yeah, baby, just like that. He remembers exactly how you like it. Two fingers, tight circles, a little pressure, not too much. You taught him that, remember? You guided his hand, showed him the rhythm, moaned his name when he got it right—

"Just like that, Pete, don't stop, please don't stop—"

It's almost like you can read his mind.

He's close. So fucking close his vision is blurring at the edges. His cock is throbbing, slick with pre cum, and his hand is moving in short, desperate strokes, and he's biting down so hard on the panties that his jaw aches, and he wants to come, needs to come, but he wants to come with you—

Come on, baby. Come on. You can do it. A little bit harder. He can hold on, don't worry about him, he can hold on forever if that's what you need—

Ah, fuck. Ah, fuck fuck fuck—

You're shaking. Your whole body is shaking. The hand on your clit is moving faster now, sloppy and messy, and your back is arched so high you're barely touching the mattress, and your mouth is open in a silent scream, and your stomach is tightening, rippling, and you're so pretty, so fucking beautiful that Peter feels his heart crack right down the middle—

So hot. So fucking hot. Look at you. Look at you coming apart on his cock. Yeah it's a dildo but it's still his cock. It's still him inside you, still his shape. So sorry he can't give you the real thing baby—

Ah, shit—

You come with a broken cry, your pussy clenching around the dildo so hard Peter can see it, can see the way your body pulses and milks the silicone, and that's it, that's all it takes, he's gone—

He comes so hard his knees buckle. Hot ropes of cum spatter his hand and the closet floor. He bites down on your panties and screams into the fabric, a muffled sound that would have given him away if you weren't still lost in your own orgasm. His hips jerk, his cock pulses, and he keeps stroking himself through it, keeps milking every last drop while his vision whites out and his heart threatens to explode and it's just your name in his head and on his tongue.

Y/n. Y/n. Y/n.

And then it's over.

He slumps against the back of the closet, panting, soaked in his own shame and sweat and tears. The panties are still in his mouth. He doesn't take them out. He can't. If he takes them out, he might start sobbing, might start screaming, might do something that gets him caught, and he can't get caught, not if he wants you safe and sound and happy—

Through the slats, he watches you catch your breath. Watches you pull the dildo out with a wet sound. Watches you stare at it for a moment, something unreadable flickering across your face.

Then you set it aside, roll onto your side, and close your eyes.

Just like that. Like nothing happened.

Peter tucks himself back into his suit. Wipes his hand on an old tshirt from the laundry basket. Spits the panties out. Yeah he's keeping them, he's definitely keeping them, they're his now.

Sorry baby. It's just this time. You probably won't even notice. It's not like you remember wearing it especially for him anyway. So it's fine.

Then he waits.

Waits until your breathing evens out. Waits until your heartbeat slows to the steady rhythm of sleep. Waits until he's sure, absolutely sure, that you're not going to wake up.

The closet door opens without a sound. He's spiderman, after all. Give him some credit, yeah?

He stands over your bed for a long moment. Looking at you. Memorizing the curve of your cheek, the part of your lips, the way your eyelashes flutter against your skin. You're drooling a little on the pillow.

Cute.

He leans down. Presses the gentlest kiss to your forehead. You don't stir.

"I love you," he whispers against your skin. "Don't be mad. I won't do it again, I promise. I'm sorry."

Then he slips out the window, into the night, and disappears like he was never there.

The only evidences are a single tear, dried on your pillow, and a pair of red lace panties missing from your closet.

Please don't hate him too much.

Okay?

If you want to be in my marvel taglist let me know :)

© pluvial-lake 2026 : do not plagiarize, repost, or translate works without the knowledge or consent of the creator in other platforms or websites.

[fufatronic]

call me weird or perverted all you want but i just love how pussy smells. there is genuinely nothing more hot or seductive than that.

[sunbleachedfawns]

thinking about how you and peter have very different ideas of a perfect friday night: he's content to stay at home with whatever game he's planned on getting engrossed in with his friends while you love stumbling out of the apartment after pre-game in your go-go boots to hit the clubs with your friends. it's that balance of your preferences that makes your relationship with peter work so well, but usually, at around some ungodly hour in the morning—or even earlier, if you've been particularly generous with your drinks—he'll get a series of garbled texts that any lesser man would spend a good 10 minutes deciphering a single line of. but peter knows. god, he always knows, because every atom in him adores you and by right, also adores understanding you, and he knows when you need him to come pick you up, and then suddenly it doesn't matter what he's doing. he'll pack everything up right there with an earnest apology to his friends that he actually doesn't mean because nothing—and i mean nothing—matters to him more than being with you. yes, he cheats a little, swinging through the city in his civilian clothes, but if it gets him to you quicker then he'll do it!! you're always so happy to see him too, throwing your arms over his shoulders and squeezing tight while squealing peeeteeeerrrrrrr!!!!!!! god, he loves you and all your little messes: your little miniskirt hiked too high up your thighs so he has to pull them down, the glitter smeared over your face, your lips messy with your gloss. he takes you home just like that, tucked under his arm. and so yeah, you and peter have very different ideas of a perfect friday night, but really, the perfection lies in the fact that by the end of the night, you're both together.

[lil0freak]

Yeah. Sure. Cool. Casual.

Neighbor!Jason Todd x GN!Reader

Summary: Jason is fond of, if not a little caught-off-guard by, his friendly neighbor.

Warnings:  Language

WC: 1.1k

Tags: Fluff! Jason is a little bit awkward and nervous

Part I

He sees you walk through the doors to the lobby as he’s coincidentally checking his mail.  So what if you always get home from work at this time on Mondays, it just so happens to also be the most convenient time to access his mailbox in peace.  The lobby is dead save for the two of you, the only sounds coming from the buzzing of the overhead lights and the muted noise of the city outside.

You wave when you see him, walking up to him and asking, “Haven’t seen you in a minute. Get up to anything over the long weekend?” 

“Now let’s get the car back before Batman knows it’s gone.” “You don’t think the world’s greatest detective is going to notice this damage?” “Sure, but we don’t have to own up to it. I’m pretty sure brothers are supposed to keep each other’s secrets.”

He shuts his mailbox, tapping the small stack of envelopes against his palm as he walks with you to the elevator. “Family bonding.”

“That sounds fun!” 

“It’s something,” he smirks. 

You laugh, “Yeah, families usually are.” 

He chuckles at that, rubbing his neck.  He glances over at you out of the corner of his eye, “Did you do anything? Over the weekend?”

After the first few weeks of shared elevator rides and hallway rendezvous, he’s started to reciprocate your questions with his own.  Your face lights up and, as you both enter the now open elevator, you tell him about the time that you’ve invested in your hobby the last few days.  You talk animatedly, gesturing with your hands, taking up space in the small box that only the two of you inhabit.  He notices that he likes it. 

Jason is very aware of how much space he takes up.  After the pit, for a time, his body was something that was too big too big too big.  He felt lost in it; he didn’t know how to navigate this new build that was taller and broader than the one he remembered.  He doesn’t feel quite that way anymore, much more comfortable slinging his bulky frame around.  As Red Hood, he liked how his stature was intimidating.  As Jason Todd, walking down the aisle of the supermarket, the bookstore, the hallway of his apartment complex, however, his size made it harder for him to blend in.  So he hunched his shoulders and shifted his weight and kept to himself.  But here you are, in an elevator with your amicable neighbor, unafraid to take up space, and he feels a now familiar tingling under his skin as he fiddles with his mail.  

You ask him if he has any hobbies, and you look at him like you actually want to know.  Like whether or not he likes to fish was the most interesting piece of information you could learn all evening.   He shrugs, “dunno, like to read.”  His face is a bit flushed and he really hopes he’s coming off casual.  

“Okay, well I knew that!  ‘Cmon, there’s got to be somethin’ else you do for fun,” the elevator doors open to reveal the fifth floor, the both of you getting off.  “Unless you count all the bar fights you get into as a hobby, in which case I appreciate that you led with reading,” you jest, pointing to him with a look of false skepticism on your face.

“Not bar fights,” he says, a little too quickly, roughly, and without thinking it through. “I don’t get into bar fights.”  shit.  “Not really.” 

“Oookay, well, besi-”

“How do you know I get into fights?”  His voice a tad too defensive. He knows it’s dumb, he knows he doesn’t hide the bruises left in the morning, that he has scars on display on his face and on his hands, but he never expected to be asked about it by someone he doesn’t want to see him as a threat.  He never expected he wouldn’t want some… stranger to see him as a threat.  The two of you stop outside your door and now you actually are eyeing him skeptically. 

“You mean besides the suspiciously fight-inflicted-shaped injuries you have every few days?  No clue,”  You shrug and let out a light chortle, trying to lighten the mood, but obviously feeling the awkward tension as heavily as he does.  “So… your not-bar-fights, is that a hobby, or more of a professional interest?”  Your smile is small and awkward, but it’s clear you’re trying to make a joke without fully letting him off the hook.  

Without thinking anything other than there’s my out, “Yeah!” shit.  

“Yeah?” there’s that cocked eyebrow again, this time without any smile accompanying it. 

“Yeah! Professional Interest.”  He’s gonna have to move. 

“Oh?  I know we live in Gotham, but that can't be standard.  Or are you like a bouncer or something?” There’s your smile again, still confused, a bit cautious and small, but there nonetheless.

“Yeah!  Yeah, that.  I do security.”  Okay, he can work with this.  

“Ooooh, that makes so much sense!  You could have just said that!” You’re laughing and smiling and looking up at him as if you’re piecing some puzzle together in your mind, but he doesn’t know what you can see.  He’s certain you see more than he would like you to.  

“Where’s the fun in that?” he smirks, tilting his head as he stares back at you.  

You shake your head and look down at your shoes, looking back up at him with a fond smile as you sigh with feigned exasperation. 

“I like to work on my bike.”  He should walk away.

You nodded, no doubt filing that away for future hallway-conversations, because that’s just what you did.  You asked questions and you remembered the answers.  You cared about what he had to say.  

“A man of many talents,” your voice sounds softer than usual. 

You’re both just standing outside of your apartment door, looking at each other with more fondness than two neighbors who primarily talk in the elevator should share.  You’re the first one to break the moment, “Have a good night, Jason.” 

“Yeah, have a good night.”  He smiles and takes a step back, walking to his own door.  He still feels your eyes on him as he’s standing in front of his door, fumbling with his keys, and when he looks over his suspicions are confirmed.  Your door is cracked open, and you’re looking over at him almost, affectionately.  Your eyes meet his and you don’t shy away, instead you lift up your hand and wave, keys swishing against your palm.  “Good luck at work!”  

He’s staring at you with a soft smile and a blush rising up his cheeks, but he’s being so casual about it.  Cool, even. He hopes.  

Jason Todd is fucked. 

Cred. to @graphiclost for divider

Original work. Please do not feed my writing into AI.

[birdwatcher-butch]

thinking about slow sloppy making out... one of my favorite sexual memories was when i made this girl come like six times and then flopped down on my back, exhausted. she shifted herself above me and kissed me thank you and then kept kissing me. i didn’t chase her at all, just let her do what she wanted with my mouth and followed. she’d lick into my mouth, bite my lip, kiss me soft, kiss me hard. when she pulled back a little i’d just wait with my lips parted + eyes closed for her to lean down again. eventually she breathed touch yourself into my mouth and i nodded so fast i nearly bonked her in the forehead

[eggpngg2]

Personal ads in Siren, a Toronto-based lesbian magazine, 1998

[scissorhvnds]

loserrrr! ✶⋆.˚

superboy prime x reader

thinking of sitting on clark's lap. your lips meet his brows, then his nose, then his cheek, then down his jaw and stopping just below his ear. you take the sensitive skin between your teeth, the soothing it over with the tip of your tongue. your weight is settled deliciously over his painfully hard cock, smirking into his skin as you grind your hips in gentle circles. you torture him with small grinds. his mind is already hazy, drunk off the feeling of your lips, of your clothed pussy pressing down against his cock, yet you've barely kissed him. was that on purpose? were you teasing him on purpose? he's not conscious enough to tell. all he can hear is you, all he can feel is you. all around him. everywhere. 

your lips trail just below his ear and you press soft fluttering kisses against the expanse of clark's smooth skin. your fingers explore his chest, shoulders, hair, ensuring that clark is consumed by you — more than he already is. 

"f-fuck wait, baby, i—" clark whimpers, his head dropping back against the couch. his body is on fire, strung up so high that he's on the verge of falling off the edge. you silence his whines with your own mouth, lips sealing over his. you push your tongue into his mouth and sucking the tip of his into yours. 

his hands tighten against your hips, holding you down against him. fuck, fuck, clark is so fucking fucked. his cock is throbbing in his sweats, threatening to bust into the cotton like a loser. god, he feels so fucking pathetic. and you know it too. you want it. you want to see how little it takes for clark to surrender. 

you pull your head back, eyes cataloguing his dishevelled features. clark's eyes are half-lidded, sweat beading at his hairline, and lips parted with the force of his ragged breathes. barely composed. you love it. 

you dip your head down, gently tracing his bottom lip with your tongue before sinking your teeth into the soft flesh. 

and clark knows he's fucked. he shudders beneath you, spurting thick globs of cum into his sweatpants. fucking pathetic. you love him. he practically chokes on his whine, his head falls forward into your shoulder. his hips continue to stutter and grind up harder into your clothed pussy. he can't stop fucking cumming, holy shit—

clark digs his fingers into your hips with another loud whimper. the force of his fingers threaten to tear your own bottoms right off your skin. your eyes remain locked onto his shuddering form, a soft satisfied giggle leaving your mouth at the sight. another thick glob of cum spurts from clark's clock when he hears it. 

"oooh, my, shit," he breathes out into your neck, hips continuing to jerk beneath you. the front of his sweats are soaked through with cum, staining your own panties. he bites down onto your shoulder to contain his pathetic whimpers. it's not his fault you're so pretty! he's just so in love with you. 

another smirk spreads across your lips, "clark?" your fingers soothingly run through his hair, attempting to bring him back to you after his orgasm. 

he lifts his head, eyes darkening as they meet yours, "my turn," 

an: MOOORREEEEE PRIME TIME AYEEEE. i want him to be as pathetic as possible

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