Hypnos

Ask me anything

[hypnos333]

Welcome to the Sleeping closet Masterlist

✔️Spiderman across the spider-verse (Request open)

✔️Dispatch (Request open)

✔️Sweet home (Request open)

✔️Interview with the Vampire (Request open)

✔️Stray kids (Request open)

✔️Gods (Greek mythology) (Request open)

✔️Randoms (Request open)

✔️Viviepop (Request open)

✔️Alice in borderland (Request open)

[natti-ice]

18+ mdni

that reality check hitting after reading smut

[not-neverland06]

𝘕𝘰𝘸 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨…

💿 We Almost Broke Up Again Last Night 💿

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴: 𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘮!𝘗𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 & 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Bullshit repeats itself / Is that how the saying goes? / Been here a thousand times / Selective memory though

You say we're drifting apart / I said "yeah I fucking know" / Big deal we've been here before and we'll be here tomorrow

Overview: A headass couple: people acting in a "slightly delusional, somewhat cheesy bubble," oblivious to how cringy or ridiculous they appear to others.

For some reason, you'd thought yourself to be the untouchable exception to the rule that all relationships eventually hit a rough patch. Peter and you were perfect, best friends first, and then dating. There wasn't a better match than the two of you. Except, of course, until there was. Your perfect image is shattered as you realize he's hiding more from you than you'll ever know. After a rough breakup, only one person seems able to cheer you up. A certain webbed viglinate. But, wait... why does his voice sound so familiar?

a/n: There will be the occasional ridiculous name/reference; if you catch them, they're all real (including Jumbo’s Clowns) 

wc: 10.0K

They say that the best foundation for a relationship is built on friendship. And you used to believe that. When you first met Peter, it was like coming together with a missing piece of yourself. Even before the romance, the dates, the sex. When it was nothing more than something wonderfully platonic, you thought everyone was right. 

But you were delusional. Your head had been too far up your ass to realize the truth of your relationship. You weren’t soulmates. You weren’t any more special than anyone else dating their best friend. 

You would think, though, that being friends with someone for years would build enough respect for them not to blatantly mistreat you. To not lie to your face when they hide where they are at night. Sure, maybe other couples who didn’t know each other lied. But not you and Peter. 

That’s what you thought, at least. Shows what you know. 

Two Months Earlier

“Hi,” Peter rushes into your apartment, breathless and flustered as always. You get a firm kiss to the cheek before he disappears into your bedroom. 

Laughing slightly, you peer around the corner and try to get a glimpse of him. “Everything okay, Petey?”

You get a slight hum of acknowledgment before he goes back to what sounds like rustling through papers. Shaking your head, you bring the popcorn bowl over to the couch and wait for him to reemerge. 

It doesn’t take longer than a few minutes until he’s strolling back toward you, a slightly cocky pep to his step. You narrow your eyes at him but fail miserably at holding back a grin. “Whatcha up to, Parker?”

“Who, me?” He shrugs, playing dumb as he jumps over the back of the couch, landing on the cushion beside you. You spot something folded in his hand before he tries to hide it. 

With little warning, you lunge forward, reaching for his hand. “Hey!” He jumps back, unable to hold in his laughter. “That’s cheating, you know?”

You don’t acknowledge him, grunting in frustration as he holds his hand further and further away from you. “Alright, well, what happened to no secrets?” You push, slightly embarrassed at how breathless you sound. 

“Oh, wow,” his hand comes up, cupping your jaw as he pulls your face closer to his. “That’s playing dirty,” he whispers. You can’t subdue your smile, inching closer until your noses are brushing. 

“You like it when I play dirty.” Peter’s eyes widen, a visible flush on his face as your lips just barely brush together. The whisper of a kiss. He was so focused on that, he failed to notice you ripping the paper from his hands. 

He groans as you lean back on the couch with a triumphant grin. “You’re too easy, Parker,” you tease. 

He props his chin on your knee, “Only for you.” 

“Oh God, you are so cheesy.” He opens his mouth, a stupid grin on his face. You pinch his lips together and laugh, “Don’t say it again. For the sake of our relationship, please.” 

You release him and he presses a quick kiss to your hand before leaning back. “Well,” he nods toward the paper in your hand. “Don’t you want to see what you’ve won?” 

Excitement bubbles inside you as you unfold the small piece of paper. The print’s slightly smudged from your wrestling match, but when you bring it closer, you can’t help the sharp gasp that escapes you. 

“Peter!” He’s smiling widely, posture relaxed and completely smug as you gush. “I can’t believe you managed to get tickets.”

“One of the guys in my lab knows someone at the museum. He owed me a favor,” he shrugs it off like it’s not a big deal. Like he didn’t just get you into one of the most exclusive exhibitions in Queens. 

He lets out a slight grunt when you toss yourself at him, arms wrapping like a vice around the back of his neck. You can feel the exhale of a laugh as he buries his head in the crook of your shoulder, arms quick to wrap around your waist. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, pulling back slightly to get a proper look at him. He keeps his grip firm, reluctant to let you get much further. 

“You know I’d do anything for you,” he tells you and he has all the conviction of a man who really believes it. 

“That’s a big promise,” you smile. “Sure you can keep it?”

“‘Course I can.” When you lean in to kiss him this time, you make sure it's real. Not the whisper of a touch, but something deeper as he pulls you into his lap completely. You don’t think you’ll ever get over how wonderful it is to be loved by Peter Parker. 

“Christ,” you blow into your gloved hands and hope some of the warmth bounces back to your face. You knew it was going to be cold today, but you hadn’t thought it would be a problem. Peter had said he was going to meet you outside the museum, but it’s already been fifteen minutes and you’re losing feeling in your nose. 

He does have a mind going 100MPH most days. Usually, you like to give him a leeway on timing. But it’s absolutely freezing today and snowflakes have just started falling. If you were with your boyfriend, this would be like a scene out of a romcom. 

Instead, it’s about to be a nature documentary on wild stood-up girlfriends freezing in Queens tundra. 

Pulling out your phone again, you bite the thumb of your glove and tug it off. You’ve sent Peter about twenty messages, none of which have even so much as gotten a ‘read.’ You try calling him this time, tucking the phone between your shoulder and ear as you hurriedly tug your glove back on. 

“Hey, this is Peter, you know what to do.” 

You roll your eyes at his voicemail. “It’s your girlfriend, Pete. But, I swear, if you make me wait any longer in this damn snow, I’m going to be your ex.”

“Good thing you don’t have to wait.” With a squeak, you whip around to find Peter standing behind you. You slap his shoulder and he bounces back with a laugh. The tip of his nose has been nipped red by the cold and his cheeks aren’t much better. 

“You’re lucky I like you,” you snap. 

“Extremely,” he agrees, not an ounce of sarcasm in his voice. It softens you slightly. When you can feel your fingers again, you’ll consider forgiving him. He throws his arm over your shoulder, struggling slightly with the scarf triple-wrapped around you. 

Glancing down to hang up the call, you see a little news notification pop up. 

Spider-Man & Molten Man Spotted in Times Square

“What’re you looking at?”

You shake your head, tucking your phone away. “Nothing.”

You send him a smile that he returns eagerly. He passes the staff your tickets and opens the door for you as you step into the museum. You’d like for the first thing you appreciate to be the gorgeous mural on the wall in front of you. But you are far more interested in the blast of heat coming from the vents above. 

“Oh, thank God,” you grumble, blocking the door as you greedily soak up all the warmth you can. 

“Come on, bug,” Peter laughs, tugging you along so the line of people can get by. “We’ll get you an overpriced coffee at the cafe.”

“You’re paying,” you tell him sternly. “I still can’t feel my nose.” 

“Deal.” Peter doesn’t hesitate, just leans down and presses a quick kiss to the tip of your nose. It’s the type of thing you used to see others do in public and gag. 

You’d think about how you would never be one of those touchy-feely couples. Peter makes it feel so natural, though. As if you’ve been together all your life and this is just another one of your daily routines. 

The giddy smile on your face is wide and can’t even be hidden behind your scarf as you lean into him. He chuckles as he pulls you closer, taking you toward the cafe. “What do you want to see first?”

“I read online that they’ve got a bunch of Monets by the south entrance, we’ll go there and then circle back to the front.”

“You’ve had this planned since you saw the tickets, haven’t you?”

You laugh and shake your head. “Since I read about the exhibit. Remind me to thank you again when we get home.”

Peter glances down, brows raised with a cheeky look on his face. You snort and push his face away. “What? I didn’t say anything.”

“Your face did,” you tease. Peter laughs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as you get in line for a coffee. You don’t even feel like you need it anymore. You’ve been warmed inside-out just by Peter’s presence. 

God, when did I become such a cliche?

9:50

where the hell are you

they keep talking about distillation columns and thermo-something

you know I don’t understand nerd

Checking the time on your phone for the nth time, you feel your leg begin to bounce. Something uncomfortable has tied itself around your stomach, squeezing until you can’t stand one more sip of your beer. 

Peter’s labmates celebrate around you. They keep jostling each other’s shoulders, talking in technobabble. You have never felt as stupid as you did when Marcy asked you what your thoughts were on a plug flow reactor. Whatever the hell that is. 

You’d just said, “Oh, yeah, they’re great.” She’d smiled and slowly backed away, eagerly jumping into the next conversation. 

It’s not that they’re not nice people, but this clearly isn’t where you’re meant to be. Not without Peter, at least. You’d promised to come thinking, oh, you know, that your damn boyfriend would be here. 

10:30

Peter

Please

I feel so stupid

Nausea is thick in your throat as you hunch over the bar. Peter’s friends have all moved to a table, but you didn’t feel like following. It’s not like they were talking to you anyway. They didn’t know how and you didn’t either. 

“This is so stupid,” you mutter, dragging your hand down your face. You push away your empty beer and find yourself drawn to the TV, looking for any sort of distraction. 

It’s the news and, of course, Spider-Man’s swinging around the city again. His suit is bright against the night sky, and there’s an odd shape on his head that’s catching the snow. Leaning forward slightly, you snort when you see he’s wearing a red beanie. 

“Of course, New York gets the weirdo for a hero,” you mutter. You grimace as you watch Spider-Man get punched down by a man who looks like he’s made himself a megazord. Pulling back the sleeve of your blouse, you sigh at the time. 

There’s a tight pinch in your chest as you slide off the barstool. 

11:02

I’m going home

You debate saying anything else but decide not to. Tugging on your winter attire, you stop by the others’ table and bid them all goodnight. They’re nice enough to say bye, but you’re pretty sure they thought you had already left. 

The wind pushes against the bar’s door as you make your way outside. Snowflakes are quick to whip at your cheeks, landing in your lashes and melting into your scarf. You pull the scarf tighter and trudge forward. 

The cold isn’t bothering you any more than your absentee boyfriend is. You’ve always been gracious with Peter about being late. It’s a chronic sickness for him at this point and you’ve been around it the majority of your life. 

But it feels different now that you’re dating. Waiting outside an arcade or a restaurant for a friend isn’t a big deal. But when you’re sitting on your own at a table in a crowded restaurant, that’s absolute humiliation. 

He’s been dropping the ball a lot more lately and that hurts. But he hasn’t given you any other reason to worry about the state of your relationship. So, despite the sting, you’ve resolved to just swallow down the embarrassment and keep on going. 

You hear a small thud behind you and your hand instinctively goes to your purse. Swallowing thickly, you keep walking, hoping it’s nothing more than your paranoia. Then you hear the crunch of snow behind you, the clear footsteps matching your pace. Your hand wraps around the mace Pete bought you and you whip around on them. 

To your absolute horror, Peter’s standing behind you. He throws his hands up and lets out a nervous laugh. “Okay, an hour late is really bad, but please don’t mace me.”

You tilt your head and give him a flat look. “Two hours, actually.”

His face screws up and you cross your arms. “Sweetheart, I am so sorry.”

You shake your head and turn back around. “Forget it, Pete. Just go celebrate with your friends.”

Peter jogs to catch up with you and darts in front of you, a frown on his face. “Wait, no, come on. Why don’t you head in with me?”

You let out what can only be described as a guffaw and push past him. “And suffer through more questions about plug flow-whatever’s? Pass.” 

“Plug flow reactors?”

You glare at him over your shoulder and he fails horribly at hiding the amused look on his face. “Trying to speak nerd with them was humiliating, Peter.” His face softens at that and he reaches forward to pull you closer. 

Out of pure stubbornness, you should resist. But standing outside in the cold is making you desperate for Peter’s insane body heat. “Come inside, just for a little while,” he brushes a hair off your cheek and smiles softly. “I swear, I’ll teach you all our science jargon.”

You roll your eyes, but he knows he’s won when you sink into him. “You’re way too persuasive,” you snap. Peter does his best to lace your mittened hands together as he turns you back toward the bar. 

“Yeah, but you love me.”

“Unfortunately,” you glare at him, but your smile gives you away. 

For once in your relationship, you’re the one running late. Something you know Peter is about to take far too much joy in. He’s already sent about fifteen texts. The majority of them bemoan being all alone and then asking if this is how you always feel. Those were followed by an influx of apologies. 

You’re not thinking about the texts, though, as you jog down the street. You spot Peter waiting outside the diner, leaning against the wall. He’s got his phone in his hands, fingers moving rapidly across the screen. 

Sure enough, you can hear your phone ding with yet another passive-aggressive text. “Would you quit it?” You demand, completely out of breath, as you stop in front of him. 

He tosses his head back dramatically and groans. “God, finally. I thought you were just going to leave me out here to freeze.”

“Would serve you right,” your brows furrow. “When’d you get this?” You flick the edge of the red beanie shoved over his hair. 

Peter shrugs and readjusts it. “I dunno, I’ve had it forever.” You frown, biting your lip as you think. You swear to god you know it from somewhere, but you must’ve just seen Peter in it before and forgot. 

He holds the door of the diner open for you and lets out a relieved breath as you both step into the warmth. You would feel bad for him if he hadn’t done this to you five times within two weeks. 

“How come you wanted to…” The go to this place so bad trails off into a laugh. You should have known when he kept badgering you about coming here. 

Plastered floor to ceiling are comic book characters, clips from the stories, and various forms of memorabilia. You’re absolutely surrounded by a hundred different fandoms, and you’re honestly surprised Peter hasn’t had a heart attack yet. 

“I really should have seen this coming.” 

Peter laughs and leads you over to an empty table. A busty woman with a purple leotard stares you down from where she’s painted on the wall. You give Peter a flat look and he flushes. 

“I mean… the name is Strips.”

“Oh, seriously, Parker. Why would my mind immediately go to comics? I was worried you were taking me to a strip club or something.”

Peter wrinkled his nose and frowned. “That’s way too on the nose. I’d take you somewhere classy like Jumbo’s Clown Room.”

Your lips part and you just shake your head. “I don’t want to know if that’s a real place. And if it is, I don’t want to know how you found out about it.”

“Blame Flash,” he mutters as a waitress comes over with a coffee pot. 

You smile and thank her as she walks away. “Oh, I don’t think I’ve gotten a chance to tell you about this, yet.” Peter perks with interest and a wide smile blooms on your face. “You know how I was trying forever to be Professor Beeter’s TA. The position never opened but,” you trail off slightly as the people behind you start getting loud. 

“Oh my god, he is wrecking this place!” Frowning, you glance over your shoulder and take a look at what they’re watching. Someone’s phone is propped in the middle of the table and you see yet another ridiculous villain punching through the Chrysler building. 

Rolling your eyes, you settle back in your seat. “What was I saying?”

“Um,” Peter’s leg bounces under the table and his gaze shoots toward the door. “I’m not sure.”

You frown, watching him warily as he grows more antsy. “Oh, it’s about Professor Beeter. He offered me a-”

“Sweetheart,” he interrupts you and jumps to his feet. “I’m so sorry, but I just remembered I promised I would help May today.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head. 

“What? Peter! You wanted to come here!” He’s already running out the door. You watch, astounded, as he races past the window like hell’s nipping at his heels. You sink back into your seat with a stunned expression and your heart aching. 

Clearing your throat, you look up to find your waitress giving you a pitying look. She offers you a sympathetic smile that only makes you sick to your stomach. Grabbing your bag and coat, you jump out of the booth, rushing outside. 

What the hell is going on with him? You think, glaring down the street where Peter had gone. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you swallow down a lump in your throat and decide to just head back home. 

After his abrupt exit, you haven’t heard from Peter all day. You’ve sent him a few texts, checking in on him and asking about May, but you only got one answer before he went AWOL. 

You:

Everything good with May?

Petey:

Yeah

Her pilot was out had to make sure she had heat

After that, you’ve gotten nothing from him. Also, as far as you’re aware, May doesn’t use gas for heat. Peter hooked her up with better appliances forever ago. 

It’s as you’re dialing May’s number that you have to try and convince yourself you haven’t gone total psycho girlfriend. It’s perfectly normal to want to check on your boyfriend. Especially after how he was acting today. The line only rings a few times before she picks up. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, May.”

She says your name and you practically hear the smile in your voice. “Hey, sweetie. How are you?”

“Fine,” you answer quickly. “I just wanted to be see how Pete’s doing?”

She’s silent for a moment too long. She clears her throat and you frown at the pitch of her voice. “Oh, yeah, Pete’s fine. I’d let him talk to you, but he’s busy right now.”

You hum, fingers twisting your hoodie (Peter’s hoodie) strings as your stomach ties itself into a knot. “Right. Uh, what’d he say he was helping you with, again?”

“Cleaning out the gutters. Apparently, it can be a fire hazard or something, I’m not sure.”

Your body goes cold while something venomous rushes up your throat. “Okay,” you can barely hear your own voice. “I’ll let you go, then.” You hang up before she can respond, phone slipping from your hand and clattering to the ground. 

“Oh, my god,” you let out a panicked whisper, smoothing your hands over your hair as you try to think of a reasonable explanation. But there are no anniversaries, no birthdays, nothing special coming up that he might be lying about for a surprise. 

You’re honestly more shocked that May would lie to you. Growing up, she’d always seemed like the type of woman to protect a girl from sleaze-bag boyfriends. 

So maybe that means Pete isn’t doing anything bad. Maybe she’s covering for him for a good reason. 

So, why can't you think of one damn reason May would lie to you?

You don’t want to start spiraling for no reason. People lie, not just boyfriends, and not always for insidious reasons. Plucking your phone off the floor, you call Gwen. She’s usually good at pulling you out of your head when you start getting bad. 

The phone rings a few times before she finally answers. “Hey, what’s up?”

You frown and cross your arms across your stomach, trying to keep the nausea down. “Why do you sound so out of breath?”

“What?” She clears her throat but that only makes her sound worse. “No, I’m not. Did you need something?”

“Uh,” slightly taken aback by her tone, you struggle to find the right words. 

“Gwen!” Your heart beats ruthlessly against your ribs as your entire body stills. 

“Is that Peter?” You know it is. You could pick his voice out of a crowd if you were blindfolded. 

Gwen lets out a tense hum. “Yeah, it is. Uh, he was helping me with some chem stuff. So, I gotta go. Call me later, yeah?”

She’s hanging up before you can say anything else. Your hands are trembling as you set your phone on the table. Squeezing your throat to try and keep the lump back, you shake your head. 

There’s a reasonable explanation for everything. Right?

The nausea’s still coiled tight around you by the time Peter gets to your apartment. Your eyes are staring blankly at the wall, the only light coming from your window. You’re not sure how long you’ve been lying there. Trying and failing to sleep as you consider all the reasons Peter might have lied to you. 

Why he would be with Gwen instead of you. 

You hear him padding through the hall and shut your eyes, tugging the blanket slightly over your head. 

“Bug?” He calls softly. He’s quiet as he approaches the bed. He brushes a hair off your cheek and leans down to press a kiss to your temple. “You awake?”

Part of you wants to tell the truth. She wants to spring up and start laying into him, demanding to know why he lied. And the other half, she’s a coward. So, you stay curled into a ball, eyes closed, and pretending like you’re not falling apart. 

Peter lets out a low groan as he settles in your bed behind you. It takes everything in you not to jerk away when he wraps his arm around your stomach, pulling you into his chest. The last thing you want right now is to have him touching you. But saying that requires being awake. 

And that’s more painful than a sleepless night. 

Peter wakes up slowly, his body aching after last night. He’s not sure who decided a “living robot” was a good idea. But his ribs are paying the price. 

Stretching, he ignores the twinge of pain along his side. His arm gropes blindly along the sheets, searching for you, for your warmth. When his fingers brush against the wall, he reluctantly opens his eyes. 

He frowns when he realizes you’re not in bed beside him. Turning toward the rest of the apartment, he doesn’t hear you. You’re not in the shower or humming in the kitchen. 

With something cold settling inside him, he gets out of bed. “Sweetheart?” He calls out, hoping to hear you answer. It’s Saturday, and while it’s never been something you’ve both spoken aloud, traditionally, you spend all day in bed together. Just crashing from stressful weeks and overloaded uni schedules. 

“Bug?” He tries again, wandering through your apartment. He already knows, deep down, that you’re not in here. But he doesn’t want to accept it. He’s barely had any time for you this week and he was really looking forward to just being lazy with you all day. 

In the kitchen, pinned to your fridge, he finds a pink note with his name on it. 

Prof. Beeter asked me to come in. Someone messed up last week’s research log

Should be home for lunch <3

The only thing stopping him from spiraling is the little heart at the bottom of the note. He knows it’s silly, but he’s slightly worried that you’re mad at him. He can’t explain where the feelings are coming from, but it's gnawing along the back of his mind. 

Peter glances at the clock and groans. It’s only 9, and lunch to you is usually 2 O’Clock. He’s not sure if he’s patient enough to last that long. Peter glances at the note again and leaves it on the counter to go get dressed. 

He had Professor Beeter last semester and they got along pretty well. He’s sure the older man wouldn’t mind Peter bugging you for a little while. 

Still heavy with the feeling that he’s done something wrong, Peter brought along your favorite sweet treat from the cafe on campus. Hopefully, that will soothe his worries and give you a boost for the day. He knows you look forward to Saturdays just as much as he does. 

Peter’s heading toward the lecture hall when his brain finally catches up with the rest of your note. What research were you talking about? You hadn’t told him you were a part of any projects. 

He’s always yapping to you about his labs. He figured you would do the same. Maybe it’s new, he thinks. 

Pushing open the door, he spots you immediately. You’re at a desk, papers and books piling all around you. There are three other people with you, each of whom he has a vague recollection of. 

“I mean, I don’t even know how we’re supposed to salvage this.” Your voice sounds strained, completely pulled taut. Peter frowns, wishing he could just take your problems and shoulder them for you. 

“It’ll be okay,” one of the girls assures you. 

You finally lift your head from your hands. “Twelve pages with zero references, we’re going to be at this all damn day.” Peter draws back slightly, suddenly wondering if this is such a good idea. 

He knows how testy you can get about school. Especially major projects. Sometimes just leaving you alone seems to work better than smothering. But, then, before he can back out, one of the girls, he thinks her name’s Mila, catches sight of him. 

“Peter?” She calls out. Your eyes instantly snap to him. If he thought you were angry at him before, he does not feel any better now. Your gaze is sharp, lips in a flat line, and there’s absolutely nothing on your face except perpetual irritation. 

“What’re you doing here?” You snap and your voice is way sharper than he was expecting. Holding his hands up slightly, he approaches slowly. He doesn’t want to treat his girlfriend like a stray dog, but you look ready to go for someone’s jugular. 

“I thought you might want something to eat. Figured you didn’t have any time before you left to get something.”

Mila and the other girl both aw over him and it gives him the briefest amount of hope. But then you’re shoving out of your chair and storming toward him. Peter swallows roughly as you approach. He almost wishes he were fighting that living-fire guy right now. 

You snatch his sleeve in your hand and drag him back toward the door. “Peter, why are you here?” You demand, voice lowered so the others can't hear. 

He frowns and shrugs helplessly. “It’s Saturday, we always spend Saturday together.”

You cross your arms, a sharp, derisive look on your face. Okay, definitely mad. “Oh, so you can remember dates now? What’s next? Are you going to show up on time for once?”

“Hey,” he objects, hoping to lighten the mood. “I was on time yesterday.”

Your eyes narrow and something on your face goes blank. He can’t place it exactly, but it’s like there’s a wall where he can usually read you so well. “Yeah, doesn’t count if you ditch me ten minutes later, babe.”

The venom in your voice makes him take a step back. He looks down, knowing you’re right. But he doesn’t want you any more mad than you are, instead of addressing it, he nods toward your desk. 

“What’s going on here?”

“We’re working on the dementia research project with Professor Beeter.”

Peter wants to light up, to hug you, and congratulate you for finally getting an in with the professor you’ve been trying to work with since last year. But you deliver him the news so flatly he feels like you’d only get more mad.

“You didn’t tell me about that,” he says instead. Which is very clearly the wrong answer, by the way you back off with a sharp scoff. 

“I’m not sure when I would have, Peter. I got placed two weeks ago and I haven’t seen you for more than an hour since then. Besides, when I tried to tell you yesterday, you fucking bolted to May’s.” You pause, and your lips curl up into something cruel. “Or was it Gwen’s place? Sorry, I can’t remember which lie you bullshited your way through.”

Peter feels his heart drop to his feet. It’s like a film goes over his eyes as his mind scrambles for any explanation that isn’t ‘I was busy beating up a robot with a weird, creepy human brain in it.’ Because he’s pretty sure that would be grounds enough for you to dump him right now. 

You really don’t give him a chance, either way. You snatch the bag from his hand and the smile drops from your face. “Thanks for the visit. You can go now.” You turn back toward your teammates without another look at him. “Hungry?” You call out to Mila.

She gives a hesitant nod and you toss Peter’s pastry at her. “Dig in.” Even when you sit down, you don’t look up from your books. Not even a twitch as he opens the door. 

Peter walks out, still slightly numb from the whole… argument? Did that even count as an argument? Or was that just you finally calling him out?

You’ve let him get away with a lot and maybe he took advantage of that, but he’s worried you might have the wrong idea. He doesn’t know why you would bring up Gwen, but the tone of your voice was so accusatory that he feels sick to his stomach. 

Yes, he was at her house last night. But that’s because he needed to be stitched up. She’s known about Spider-Man since high school. It was either bleed out or have her use her beginner's sewing kit. 

Peter lets out a shaky breath and runs his hands through his hair restlessly. You’ve both gotten into worse fights before. It’s not like you were a perfect couple. Surely, you could find a way to get over this. He just needs a half-decent excuse for his lying.

Peter perks up as he hears you step into the apartment. He glances at the clock and grimaces. You’re going to be pissed that you had to stay there until 6, fixing someone else’s screwup. When you round the corner and see him, he hears you let out one of the most exhausted noises he’s ever heard from you. 

“Peter,” he finally turns to meet your eye. “Why are you here?”

His chest clenches as he forces a smile. “I figured you would be hungry.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Are you ever at your own place?”

Ouch. “I just wanted to make you dinner. I’ll be out of your hair as soon as it’s done, bug.”

You shrug off your jacket and take a seat at the kitchen island. Peter takes your silence as agreement and goes back to stirring the pasta. When you speak again, his ears practically touch his shoulders. This dreadful feeling in his stomach has just been mounting all day. He feels ready to vibrate out of his own skin.

“Peter, where were you last night? I want the truth.”

Peter’s hand clenches around the spoon and he keeps his back to you. “Went over to May’s to help around the house and then I saw Gwen.”

You let out a loud scoff and your hands slap against the counter. “Did you all get your stories straight? Am I hearing the right lie, now?” 

Peter drops the spoon and turns to face you. He expects anger, maybe sadness. But you’re not giving him anything. You’re just… cold and Peter hates it. He’s seen you use that look before. It’s always been directed at people you don’t care about. You don’t hate them, you don’t love them, you just… don’t care. He doesn’t want to be someone you don’t care about. He can’t be. 

“Look me in the eye,” you command. “Tell me the truth.”

Peter takes in a steadying breath, doing his best not to make it obvious. “Sweetheart, I swear, I went to help May with the heat and the gutters. Gwen called and she needed my help on her chemistry project. I’m sorry that I got home late-”

“I can’t,” you clear your throat and the way your voice cracks makes his heart ache. “I can’t believe that you’re just going to stand there and lie to me.”

He shakes his head and takes a desperate step forward. “No, bug, I’m-”

You hold your hand up and his jaw snaps shut. “You’ve talked Peter, now it’s my turn. I have put up with a lot from you. If anyone treated me the way you do, you know what you would tell me?”

He opens his mouth and you shoot him a look that makes him shrink into himself. “Do not answer that, I am still talking. You would tell me to cut them out. If someone doesn’t respect my time, my dates, if they lie straight to my fucking face, then that’s not someone who deserves to be in my life. You are never on time, if you even show up at all.”

He wants to object, he really does, but he knows you’re right. Still, you must sense his apprehension. “Scroll through our texts from the past two months. It’s just a block of me asking where you are and telling you how stupid I feel. Then you show up, make everything better, and I just let you get away with it. Because I have known and loved you for so long, I let you disrespect me. I can handle missing dates, I can handle not being on time, always being at my place and never letting me over at yours. But I can’t do this, I can’t just swallow down you lying straight to my face. Getting your aunt and my best friend involved in this is sick, Pete. What do you expect me to think when Gwen’s lying about why you’re at her place?”

“No, sweetheart,” he finally speaks, rushing toward you, voice breaking on something desperate. He reaches for you, but you jerk back and he swears something cracks open inside him. “I would never.”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Why would I ever believe you?”

Peter flounders. He tries to think of anything. Anything that isn’t a lie and isn’t the truth about who he is. But his mind is blank. The panic flooding through him is overriding anything that might get you back, might get you in his arms again. 

You suck your teeth and give him a jerky nod. “Why do I feel like I’m losing you?” He whispers, afraid that if he speaks any louder, he might actually cry. 

“I think this has been happening for a long time, Peter. It’s just your first time realizing it.”

No, no, he can’t handle that. He can’t handle knowing that this awful, barbed feeling ripping through him is how he’s made you feel for so long. But he can’t just spill his guts and tell you everything. 

Right after Gwen had discovered him, it was like the bad guys had a missile lock on her. She kept getting thrown into danger, nearly dying, because of him. He can’t be the reason you get hurt. He can’t live with that. 

But he’s hurting you either way and for once, he can’t think of a way to make this all smooth over. 

You take in a sharp breath and turn away from him. You walk to the stove, turning off the burner as the food begins to smoke. “I think you should go, Peter.”

“Bug,” but he doesn’t have anything to say and you still won’t look at him. He just wants you to look at him. He feels as if you did, if you saw how sorry he was, something here might be fixed. 

“I’m going to take a shower. When I’m done, I expect you to be gone.” You toss the pot in the sink and head down the hall, not another word spared for him. And Peter…

He just spirals. Every mistake, every time he showed up late, just pummels into him as he realizes this is all his fault. 

You turned off your phone yesterday. The missed calls and texts from Peter were bordering on obnoxious and you couldn’t take it anymore. Even Gwen kept trying to call you. Kept texting you that it’s not what you think. 

But did they ever offer any other explanation?

No, they fucking didn’t.

So, not only did you lose your boyfriend, the man you’ve been in love with as long as you’ve known him. You also lost your best friend. 

Best. Week. Ever.

Sick of being sad in your bed, you decide to go be sad outside. Maybe just grab a pint of ice cream from the bodega and lock yourself inside your apartment for the rest of your life. That sounds like a decent plan. 

Leaving your phone, you grab your keys and some cash. It’s still cold outside, though the snow has calmed down a little bit. It soaks through your tennis shoes, now, seeps along the hem of your sweatpants. No part of you can be bothered to care about that as you trudge toward the shop. 

It’s unusually quiet as you walk inside. Usually it’s a lot busier this time of night. Maybe the universe decided to give you a break. 

Digging through the freezer section, you frown when you don’t see your favorite flavor. You turn toward the shop owner, Al, who has gotten used to you coming down here the past few days. “You guys don’t have any more Turtlesaurus Rex?”

Al’s silent and you frown, finally turning to fully face him. A man in a black jacket lingers by the counter, hands stuffed deep in his pockets. Al gives you a tense smile, and your brows furrow as dread picks at you. 

“All out. Maurie down the street might have some.” There’s something about how wide his eyes are that’s making you think you probably should have brought your phone. Especially because you definitely just saw the handle of a gun in that man’s jacket and you really need to call the cops. (Even though they probably won’t do anything.)

“Yeah, I’ll go check over there.”

“Have a good night.”

You try not to sound stiff as you return the sentiment. But you’ve barely made it to the door when you hear the distinct sound of a hammer being pulled back. 

“You think I’m stupid?” What a wonderful time this would be for a freak in red and blue spandex to show up. 

You turn slowly and shake your head, absolutely zero idea how to defuse this. 

“I think the lady’s just being polite. Personally, I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone encapsulate the term ‘mouth-breather’ so well.”

Your eyes widen, and you whip around to see Spider-Man standing at the entrance of the bodega. What the fuck is your life? 

“Hey, jackass,” you hiss, and his head whips toward you. “Who’s he pointing the gun at?”

Spider-Man shrugs, “What gun?” You barely have a second to blink before a thick white string is twhip-ing past you and jerking the gun out of the man’s hands. 

“Smartass,” you mutter under your breath. 

“I think you mean, ‘thank you, Spider-Man for saving my life,’” you shoot him a flat look and walk out of the bodega. Maybe it’s time to just accept that you’re not meant to be in the outside world. You’re better off cocooned in your bed. 

There are no robbers there. No cheating boyfriends and conniving best friends. 

About a minute later, you hear rapid footsteps approaching. “I don’t have a purse, phone, or wallet.”

“Wow, great mugger-deterrent. I totally don’t want to rob you now.”

You plant your feet in the snow and hear Spider-Man let out a sharp breath as he skids around you. “I thought you were the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Not the quippy, neighborhood pervert who follows girls around at night.”

Spider-Man lets out a noise that can only be described as a guffaw. “I’m making sure you get home safely. Since clearly you don’t care. I mean, who walks around this late at night without mace at least?”

“Me,” you tell him flatly. 

“Pretty girls shouldn’t be walking around here on their own.”

Your lips curl and you gag as you continue toward your apartment. “Okay, first of all, totally not helping with your creep angle.” He groans and you almost laugh at the defeated sound. “Also, I’m fresh off a break-up, so keep the compliments to yourself.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Spider-Man quickly jumps in front of you and you frown as he blocks your way. “Breakup,” his voice is pitched so high, you swear it almost sounds familiar. “You broke up with someone?”

“Uh… yeah.”

“R-really?” He tries to lean against a lamppost, slips, and then straightens awkwardly like he meant to do that. “Because you know sometimes people think that it’s just a break and not a breakup, you know? Big difference. Are you sure this isn’t just a break?”

He’s talking so rapidly you can barely understand him. It doesn’t help that he’s got that mask on, so you can’t try to catch the words on his lips to decipher them. You think you might have gotten half of that word-vomit.

“Well, I’m the one who did it. I feel like I should know.”

“Does he?” He holds up his hands, quick to correct himself. “Or she? Spider-Man doesn’t judge.”

“Oh, good to know, he’s a pervert, but at least he’s an ally.” You push past him. “Look, if he doesn’t know, then he’s a lot stupider than I gave him credit for.”

You hear a low, “Ouch,” behind you and figure you might be being a tad harsh about Peter. But what the hell would Spider-Man care?

“You know,” Spider-Man continues after you. 

Jesus, he’s like a damn dog.

“I’ve always believed that everyone deserves a second chance.”

You glare over at him and swear you see the eyes of his mask turn down. You’ve never seen a mask emote before; it’s incredibly bizarre. “Do they deserve a second chance after sleeping with your best friend?”

Spider-Man shrugs, throwing his hands in the air. “Do you have evidence that it happened, though?”

“Dude,” you snap. “What do you care? And what other evidence would I need besides the fact that he wouldn’t tell me the truth? If there was nothing to hide, why would he continue to hide shit?”

You hear his inhale of breath and shake your head, holding your hands up. “No, you know what, no. Alright? I didn’t get my Turtlesaurus Rex and I am not going to listen to some weirdo in a unitard give me relationship advice.”

“Unitard?” He scoffs. “I’m not a weirdo.”

“Oh, yeah?” You call over your shoulder. “Then stop following me home!” It takes a few minutes to believe he’s actually gone and you can finally breathe again. What weird ass fever dream was your life turning into?

You sit on the ledge of your roof’s building, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. You’re scrolling through all the texts Peter’s sent you in the last three hours. There are at least fifty of them. But it’s the one at the end that really catches your eye. 

Is this really it? Are we done? Bug-

You stop reading at the nickname and put your phone down. Reluctantly, Spider-Man’s words from the other night pop into your head. Some people think it's a break, not a breakup.

How could Peter not have gotten the message by now?

“Fancy meeting you here.”

You let out a screech and jolt forward. Arms winding wildly as you try to regain your balance. The city tilts below you until something’s latched onto the back of your shirt and you’re suddenly being pulled into a firm chest. 

“Why would you sit on the edge?” Again, his voice gets an impressively shrill pitch. 

Shoving away from him, you whip around and slap his shoulder. “Why would you scare someone sitting on the edge?”

You can hear his sharp intake of breath before his argument fizzles out. “That’s what I thought Spider-Boy-”

“Man.”

“Whatever.” You walk back to the edge and rewrap yourself in your blanket. With a pointed glare over your shoulder, you hop right back on your perch. Spider-Man lets out a world-weary sigh before he jumps up beside you. 

“You know,” he drawls. “Most people say thank you when a superhero saves you.”

“Oh,” you laugh. “Is that what you are, now? A superhero?”

“Dude. What is your problem?” His voice goes so flat, all humor sucked out of it, that, for some weird reason, it’s the first thing he’s said to get a real laugh out of you. He seems just as confused as you are if the way he tosses his hands up means anything. 

“I cannot figure you out.”

You shake your head and brush a stray curl from your eyes. “It’s not you, Bugboy-”

“Rude.”

“It’s life,” you spread your palms out, gesturing to the sprawling city across from you. “Just broke up with the love of my life. Lost my bestie. The research project I’ve been trying to join for a year is falling apart at the seams. Oh, and I almost got shot yesterday.”

You point your face to the sky and let out a dramatic sigh. “God hates me.”

There’s a light nudge on your arm and you look over to see that Spider-Man’s moved closer to you. “God doesn’t hate you.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Because I didn’t let you get shot. I’d say that’s pretty damn lucky.” You snort and from the mask, you think he’s… pleased? It’s really hard to tell. 

“I guess that’s fair.” 

Spider-Man lets out a satisfied hum as he turns to the city. “You gotta stop being so hard on yourself, bug.”

Your entire body goes still. Your eyes widen as they stare down at your lap, adrenaline rushing through your blood as you turn toward Spider-Man. “What’d you say?” You ask, voice so low you’re surprised he even registers it. 

He shrugs, “I said to stop being so hard on yourself.”

“No, you called me something. What’d you call me?”

“Bug,” Spider-Man drawls and you swear you’re going crazy because that voice is painfully familiar. “You called me Bugboy, I thought it would be fair.”

It’s too hard to distinguish whether this swooping feeling in your stomach is relief or disappointment. And you hate yourself for not knowing which one you want it to be. 

“Right,” you scoff and rub your eyes. “I’m going crazy, now.”

Spider-Man lets out a long sigh as he watches you. “You kind of seem like you’re having a mental breakdown. Maybe, I don’t know, get off the edge of the very tall building.”

“Oh, don’t tell me Bugboy’s got a crush.”

Your lips curl at his scoff. “You’re impossible.”

Feeling only slightly guilty for the hell you’ve given him, you slip off the edge and get your feet planted firmly on the ground. “Better?”

He surveys you suspiciously before nodding. You pick your phone up off the ledge and, for some reason, are compelled to open up the texts with Peter. You should have guessed how nosey Spider-Man was going to be about it. 

“That the ex?”

You shoot him a flat look as he kicks his legs over the ledge. “Yeah. That’s the ex.”

“So, what are you going to tell him?” He motions toward the last text. “Break or breakup?” Your mind snags on how Peter called you bug and Spider-Man’s weird slip-up before you force yourself to dispel the thoughts. 

“Breakup. I guess I should have made it more clear.” Your fingers hover over the keyboard before you shoot Spider-Man a look. His back has gone weirdly tense and you frown. “Hey, you’re a guy. How’s the nicest way to tell him it’s done.”

“Don’t.” His voice is clipped, almost angry. “He’ll get the hint. Trust me.” 

Your brows furrow as you eye him warily. “Are you okay?”

“Gotta go. Superhero business, you know?” You shrug, but he doesn’t seem to care. He’s already leaping off the ledge, thwip-ing his way to the building across from yours. 

“Weirdo,” you scoff. 

You figured that after Spider-Man’s abrupt departure on the roof, that would be the end of it. But, no, it’s only gotten worse for you. He’s everywhere now. He’s somehow more consistent than your ex ever was. 

Walking home from late research sections, look who wants to be a walking buddy. 

Heading to the bodega for a midnight snack, somehow, Spider-Man had the same idea. 

Your life is now a Sunday comic strip in the paper. It’s like there’s some sadistic artist out there exploiting your misery for humor. It’s not just him, either. It’s the month. In all your drama with Peter, you’d failed to keep up with the dates. 

Now, freshly single for the first time in a couple of years, you sit alone preparing yourself for the next week. Valentine’s Day is Saturday, which means suffering through pink streamers all over campus and girls walking around with gift baskets lovingly curated by their boyfriends. 

“I don’t like how often I find you on this ledge.”

You spare a glance over your shoulder and smile. “I don’t like that you still haven’t learned not to scare me.”

“Touche,” Spider-Man breathes out, taking quick strides toward you. “You seem tense. Feel like sharing? I’m a great listener.”

“Nothing big, just Valentine’s Day. I’ve had a boyfriend for so long I forgot how bitter and annoying it is for single people.”

“Tell me about it,” he sighs. 

“Really? The Spider-Man is single?”

“I appreciate the surprise in your voice, no matter how forced it is.” You let out a wry chuckle and you swear you can hear a smile in his laugh. 

“Probably a good thing, though. I can’t imagine any girlfriend would be happy with the amount of time you spend on this ledge with me.”

“No,” he agrees,  “probably not.” The next noise he lets out is soft, tired in the kind of way that resonates with you. For the most part, your interactions are shallow. There’s banter, stupid quips, and then he’s off. You don’t usually hear something so real from him. 

“Freshly single?” You ask. His head whips toward you and you shrug. “I recognize the misery of your sigh. It resonates within my withered heart.”

Spider-Man swats your shoulder lightly and you grin. “Yeah, it’s fresh. I still don’t think I’ve accepted it.”

You prop your chin in your hand and smile at him. “What level of not accepted are we talking here? Stalking? Or just crying over Instagram posts?”

Spider-Man goes quiet and you pull back. He recognizes the suspicion on your face and waves his hands. “No, no, no, this doesn’t count as stalking. Not really. I mean, it’s consensual?”

He sounds more unsure of himself at the end than you did. “Let's just not talk about that,” you offer. “I don’t think I want to know what your idea of consensual stalking is.” Spider-Man snorts and you shake your head. 

A billboard across from you catches your eye. It’s Gwen’s favorite band, an announcement that they’ll be coming through soon. There’s a sharp ache in your chest when you remember you can’t just text her about stuff like that anymore. 

“Gwen would love that,” you say, almost without thinking. 

But what’s worse is when the man beside you doesn’t think either. “Oh, yeah, she would.”

Consensual

Stalking

Oh. My. God. 

Your entire body stiffens as you turn to Spider-Man/maybe your ex-boyfriend. He doesn’t seem to realize his slip-up and that just makes you freeze up. You don’t know what to do. You can’t just blindly accuse him of being Peter. If you start hinting at secret identities, he might stop talking to you. 

Loathe as you are to admit it, you’ve begun to enjoy his company. The main reason being he reminded you of how it was with Peter before you guys started dating. 

Oh, Jesus, you’re gonna throw up off the ledge of your building. When the pavement below seems to swim up to you, it’s time to slip off the ledge. Slowly, fighting off the vertigo of your discovery, you drop back to safety. 

Spider-Man watches you, head tilted in question. “Um, I have to go.” You search for an excuse, but none comes. “Yeah, I have to go.”

“Oh,” he seems taken aback, but doesn’t comment. “Alright. I’ll see you later?”

You let out a noise between a hum and a squeal as you rush back into your apartment building. Your mind is racing while you scramble through the door of your apartment. Like a detective, you flit through different memories, red string connecting each one as you start to line up Peter’s disappearances with Spider-Man's greatest hits.

Every missed date, every time he showed up late, it was all right there. But you never thought to connect it because… Well, why would you? Peter is Peter. He’s not a superhero. He definitely doesn’t have webs. Please, don’t let him have webs. 

Scrambling for your phone, you dial the first number you can think of. It’s barely ringing before it’s getting picked up. “Gwen,” your voice is incredibly shaky as you try to calm yourself down. “I’m going to ask you something and if you don’t tell me the truth, we’re never talking again.”

Spider-Man/Peter Parker/ex-boyfriend-

No, no, too many titles. Peter has not been around in the past week. Not as his alter ego, and not at his lectures. Unfortunately, a lot of your schedule seems to intersect and the majority of your day is spent hiding in a hoodie and trying not to make eye contact. 

But there hasn’t been any of that at all this week. 

Maybe Gwen told him you know. He’s probably losing his mind right now. 

But, no, she swore she wouldn’t and you know she’s not going to risk hurting your friendship again. Though you did profusely apologize for ever thinking that she could do that to you. And then she berated you about thinking she would ever be attracted to Peter. 

Which… Ouch. 

It’s Saturday, which used to mean days spent with him. Instead, it now means watching people get all mushy on Valentine’s Day. That used to be you, disgustingly in love, kissing way more than you should in public. 

Now, you watch it all on the subway with that same old glare you used to have before Peter. You’re thinking about him a lot more than you want to. Especially given that he’s supposed to be an ex. 

After your long speech on respect and boundaries and honesty, you should be completely over him. But it sort of makes sense now. Especially after Gwen told you what happened to her when she found out about him. 

Peter wanted to protect you. You can understand that. But it doesn’t just erase all of the pain you felt while you were in the dark. You let out a low groan, ignoring the people around you as you walk home. You just keep going in circles over and over again. 

The streets around you begin to thin out the closer to home you get. You’re still so deep in thought, you don’t notice the man dangling in front of you until your forehead is smacking into his. 

“Ow,” you hiss, pressing your palm to the bruise that’s probably already forming. Backing up, Spider-Man, Peter, is dangling from the small overpass, upside down, as he waits for you. 

“Dude,” you drawl. “How long have you just been hanging out here?”

He shrugs, “An hour, maybe.” Only in Queens would people pass by a dangling man in spandex and not question a thing. 

One of his hands is tucked behind his back, and the other is holding onto his webbing. “Here,” he says. “I’ve got something for you.”

He untucks his free hand and passes you a bright pink, smothered in glitter, Valentine's Day card. You can hear his proud smile as he asks, “Be my Valentine?”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you shake your head with a low laugh. This is the dork you fell in love with. The boy you swore you would follow anywhere. It’s not his fault he’s such an idiot, not really. 

Something soothes the ever permanent ache in your heart as you imagine the smile he’s probably got plastered on face. God, you bet he’s so proud of himself for this silly little Valentine. 

A deep longing echoes through you and you reach up, going for the edge of his mask, when he reels back. “What’re you-”

“Relax, Parker,” you whisper. He goes completely still and you take hold of the mask. 

“Did Gwen tell you?”

“You did, dumbass. You know, you’re really bad at the whole secret identity thing when it comes to consensually stalking your ex.” He lets out a low groan as you peel down his mask, just enough for his lips to be visible. 

Pulling back, you take his face in your hands and smile. “Do you want me as your Valentine, or not?”

“What do you think, bug?” With a soft laugh, you lean forward and press your lips to his. It takes a second to get the angle right, what with his chin brushing your nose and all. But you don’t need perfect, you just need him. 

Pulling back, he’s got a goofy grin on his face and you smirk. “Parker?” He hums as you fix his mask. “If you ever lie to me again, I’ll cut a hole in the crotch of your unitard. Or, worse second option, I’ll tell Jonah Jameson where you live. Got it?”

He goes still and you raise a brow. “You’re not joking?” You shake your head, expression flat. “Yeah, I got it, sweetheart.”

Smiling, you press a kiss to his cheek and step back. “Be home by six,” you tell him. “And bring some takeout.” You walk around him as he swings himself back up to the top of the overpass. 

“I love you!” He calls after you. 

“I know you do, Bugboy!”

𝘞𝘦 𝘈𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘉𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘜𝘱 𝘈𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘓𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘕𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵

𝘚𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘢 𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳                  ♥︎

⇄              ◁◁  I I  ▷▷          ↻

⁰² ⁰⁸ ━━━━━━━━━●━ ⁰⁰ ²⁵

💿 We've been here before and we'll be here tomorrow 💿

a/n: this was meant to be angstier but, well, I started writing him in the Spider-Man “voice” and folded like a wet paper towel

end. — I do not own the characters or the movies/comics Spiderman, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2026. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[vexi4]

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH AGHSHSHSH

[not-neverland06]

I’m so glad you enjoyed, writing for him was so much fun!!

[classygumi]

spidey! reader x some of my favorite marvel men

GAMBIT … remy lebeau

everything hurt.

your suit was torn in several spots, the symbolic webbing ripped open to reveal bloodied skin. the window sill of the mansion was slick, the rain doing little to help your case. thunder struck in time with your soft bang against the edge, knocking the window open. you slid inside, quietly latching the lock behind you.

lightning flashed, illuminating the room. you pried the mask off your head, hair bouncing free as you breathed deeply. your wounds ached, and you grimaced when a particularly harsh throb wracked your ribs. you leaned against the wall, grateful for the dark that encased the room.

remy was out for the night, you were certain. he’d left you a note, saying he and the guys went to a gaming hall. you’d smiled fondly at the tiny heart he left next to his name.

you stumbled into the bathroom, blood smearing along the walls and the counter. the toothbrush cup fell over, spilling onto the floor. you went down next, your shaking arms barely able to hold yourself up.

before you could even think of picking them up, lights flicked on as the floors creaked.

“chère?”

you reached for the door, throwing your limp body against it. remy’s shadow appeared from under the door, his knuckles tapping against the wood, “did i wake ya up? y’alright?”

“m’fine, remy,” you shakily spoke, biting back a wince as your fingers dipped into the wound. you felt the hard casing of the bullet. “can’t lie t’remy, mon ami. let him in, please.” your nails grazed the bullet, a quiet grunt leaving your lips at the ache.

your brows knit together when the door you rested on began to rattle. it warmed, and you quickly scooted away when you saw the purple flecks of kinetic energy swirling around the doorknob. “remy—!”

it opened.

and there he was.

dressed casually—in one of those crop tops he adored and jeans—like he didn’t bankrupt other gamblers and win every game of poker. his crimson hair was fluffy.

“where’s your coat?” you asked with a gentle frown. it was cold outside, didn’t he wear one?

“you bleedin’ on our floor ‘n askin’ about some coat?” he knelt next to you, necklaces clinking as he tore his gloves off. you watched him tug the first aid kit from the cabinet, flicking it open and getting to work. remy was uncharacteristically quiet, which worried you deeply. he hadn’t acknowledged the suit you wore, nor gloated about the sheer amount he’d won tonight.

you grimaced when the bullet clinked on the tile, feeling your enhanced regeneration tingle through your cells. “i knew,” remy spoke, resting a comforting hand on your thigh, “‘bout de…spider thing. did’ya think i wouldn’t notice?”

you looked away, silent and ashamed.

“m’not mad at ya, chère. not even a lil,” he soothed, clasping a firm hand under your jaw and guiding your face back to his, “just wish ya told remy sooner. he didn’t wanna see ya like t’is before ya told him.”

“i’m sorry,” you whispered, feeling the skin of the wound close. remy stared down at it, dual-colored eyes swirled with confusion. “i heal over time,” you explained, “gunshots take longer, usually.” he shook his head with a fond grin, as if the thought of your wounds taking longer to heal would quell his worries.

remy’s eyes were molten, swirling with sparks of purple and admiration. it was quiet, his thumb simply sweeping over your cheek as your healing tingled your cells. “how much did you win?” you asked after a while, allowing him to scoop you up and carry you to the bedroom. “i’m offended, chère. ‘course i won lots,” he smirked lazily, “wan’ somethin’? remy’ll get it for ya.”

“my suit kinda needs repairs,” you sheepishly admitted, and he laughed. “mm. dunno ‘bout supportin’ such…dangerous endeavors..” he got you comfortably in bed, joining you quickly, and tucked you close. remy was always warm. you buried your face in his chest, hiding from his blazing eyes upon your next words, “and i wanted to go shopping for a dress for emma’s event..”

“ooh, now dat—remy’s got plenty,” his lips pressed against your head, “oughta let me see ev’ryone of ‘em. touch, too. tha’s requirement. needa see if the…quality is worth de price.”

you smiled and giggled, keeping your warm face hidden from him, “required, huh? you sure it’s just to test the fabric quality?”

“guilty as charged,” he mused, dragging his fingers along your spine, “close ‘dem eyes, chère. sleep f’remy.”

you hummed softly, the ache in your bones fading as remy’s touch soothed them. outside, sirens still blared and criminals still ran rampant—but right now? you were simply remy’s.

daredevil … MATTHEW MURDOCK

you’d learned how to circle matt.

adapted to his schedules, shifted around mishaps, smiled through painful throbs of bruises—you’d perfected it.

until you seen him out.

you were perched on a balcony, fingers barely grazing the iron safety bars. it was 3am, and matt was usually asleep at this time. home from a long day of court, and tonight, he mentioned going out to drink with foggy and karen. he was home at midnight—why was he out now?

you quietly leapt across buildings, pausing every time he paused, moving when he moved. his cane tapped lightly against the concrete, the familiar clicks making your heart rate slow.

then, a hand shot from the darkness.

matt was yanked into an alley, and you launched into action. you watched as the man threw matt to the ground, and before matt could retaliate, you were there. your fist collided with the thug’s face, webs zipping! out. your foot landed on his shoulder, launching yourself and him up as you threw punch after punch and kick after kick. the webs clung to him, pinning his struggling and bruised frame against the brick wall.

your feet touched the pavement, kneeling in front of a winded matt.

“sir, sir, are you alright?”

“i knew it,” he breathed, smiling in that utterly pleased way of his. you tried to subdue your increasing heart rate, handing him his cane, “knew what?” matt’s head tilted knowingly, hands drifting forward to grip your waist.

“i’m not a fool, sweetheart. i know your heartbeat,” matt leaned up, and you had to look away from him, “it got faster. you’re nervous. i know your footsteps—your breaths.” matt pushed himself off the ground, and you slid his cane in his hand. he took a step towards you, lips still pulled into that infuriating smile of his. you tried to pull away quickly, but he caught your wrist, “i know your touch, your hands. even if they’re covered.”

“did you plan this or something?” you embarrassedly asked, keeping your eyes averted as he tugged you closer. his lips curled up further, and you groaned in disdain, “matt!”

“don’t be like that,” he cooed, “i was getting tired of you tiptoeing around it. so, i gave you a reason to tell me.” your head thumped against his chest, a heavy sigh leaving your lips. he swayed you lightly, chin propped atop your head. he smelled like warm sheets and the candle on the nightstand.

“go home, please.”

“come with me,” he countered, bringing both arms around you. his fingers traced the webbing of your suit, trailing around the spider design on your back. “i can’t,” you muttered, tensing when one of his hands dragged up your arm. his fingertips grazed along your mask, and you clasped his wrist tightly, “matt…”

“just for a minute, baby,” he whispered, “please?” you hesitated, nodding briefly. matt lifted your mask over your nose, and you felt his breath tickle your lips.

then, you felt his softness.

matt’s hands held your face, his shoulders dropping in utter bliss. you backed him into the wall, smiling into the kiss. you broke apart, foreheads resting together.

your lips parted to speak—

“hey, can you let me down please? i need to go to the doctor!”

your head jerked up, and matt laughed:

“foggy?!”

SPIDERMAN … peter parker

it was hard being new york’s third spidey.

you usually stayed under the radar, cleaning up when peter or miles couldn’t—but there was one tiny issue.

they had no idea it was you.

peter was at grad school for the majority of the day—miles surely contemplating his existence in high school—so you had opportune time to be spidey during the day. they’d tried to contact you, of course, but you’d made it a point to avoid them at all costs.

right now, you were perched on a rooftop, eyes skimming across the city as you held a large icee in your hand. you sipped casually, flinching when your comms began to ring. your fingers pressed against your ear, a soft hum leaving your lips.

“hi, honey,” you greeted, “what’s up?”

peter didn’t answer.

“peter?”

“why didn’t you tell me?”

“tell you what?” you calmly asked, keeping your voice level despite the panic creeping up your spine. peter sighed, displeased, “delmar’s pickle sub was on sale an hour ago.”

“oh,” you laughed, relieved, “i’m sorry, i didn’t know it was.” peter groaned childishly, and you vaguely heard the bustling sounds of the cafeteria. “are you with miles?”

“yeah. gonna take him to get some actual food for his final week,” you heard him call him over, and then you heard his voice, “hey, pete’s taking me to get actual food. do you wanna go?”

your lips parted to agree, but a loud screech and explosions sounded nearby. you heard the phone rustle, “what was that? baby?”

“nothing—i gotta go, have fun!”

you swiftly hung up, ignoring the way peter called you back instantly. you tugged your mask back on, tossing your empty icee cup in a trashcan as you swung to the scene. you landed atop a streetlight, frowning when you saw a group of men holding women hostage.

their massive guns waved haphazardly, and you teasingly called out, “got a license for those?”

“it’s the spider!”

“which one?!”

you catapulted yourself at them, web bombs flying from your palms. the sticky threads flawlessly coiled around them, pinning them in one webbed up cluster. “huh. that was easy,” you shrugged, walking over to the women.

“hi,” you whispered, “anyone hurt?”

they shook their heads as you gently guided them away. you flinched when a sharp pain pierced your side. you glanced down, spotting an unfamiliar object. the dart’s contents were glowing purple, and your body broke into shivers upon its dispersal into your bloodstream.

“haha! it worked!” the cluster cheered.

you shot a web, barely able to swing properly. you crash landed on a nearby roof, curling up into a ball as your body shook. you were freezing despite the boiling hot weather.

“spidey?” the voice was warbled, but you recognized the familiar red and blue suit, accompanied by the black and red one. you tried to move, to hide from him, but his hand carefully moved you on your back.

“hey, hey, what happened?”

you shook your head, fingers grazing the rooftop’s edge. you were in agony. cold, hot, boiling, freezing, shivering, paralyzed.

“you need fresh air,” miles worriedly said, his hands nearing the hem of your mask. you weakly slapped them away, and he looked at peter for guidance.

“we promise we’ll keep your secret,” peter comfortingly said, “we can help you.”

“i don’t want it,” you heaved, mustering up enough courage to toss yourself off the edge. your body freefell, but your webs missed their landing—

a hand coiled around your wrist, your body dangling against the wall. you tiredly looked up, spotting peter upside down in front of you. he was stuck to the wall, one hand next to your head as the other held you up by your wrist.

“i tried to give you openings, but i seriously can’t take it anymore,” peter reached for your mask, yanking it up and off before you could react, “baby, please. we need to get you to the hospital.”

your mind was rendered to nothing but mush.

you could only hum and grumble, and you grimaced when he swept you up. your vision went dark, all you felt was his arms.

when you woke, he was staring at you with an intensity and a sadness you hadn’t seen since aunt may.

“pete?” you tiredly whispered. he didn’t speak, his knee bouncing rapidly, “are you mad?”

“i’d be a hypocrite if i were mad,” he sighed, shifting from his seat and sitting next to you on the bed. his fingers traced along your cheek, a weak smile on his lips.

“you could’ve told me.”

you didn’t answer to that, lifting your hand to cup his. his warmth permeated the cold of your skin. you shrugged softly, and he laughed as he pressed his lips to yours. “mm. i guess i didn’t tell you either, huh?”

“no, you didn’t,” you mused, “i found out because you left your mask in—“

“you promised not to talk about that!”

wolverine … LOGAN HOWLETT

“she’s not herself—logan!” charles shouted, turning in his wheelchair in an attempt to stop him.

“i don’t give a damn,” he snarled, spinning on his heel, “she’s mine. some fish-bowl headed lunatic ain’t takin’ her from me.” ororo stood instantly, grabbing her jacket and following him out. he briefly shot her a look of gratitude and utter respect, to which she nodded once.

storm always had his back.

the jet rumbled as it zipped through the air, and its screens displayed you in the city. mysterio hovered near you, the sky dim as the people’s symbol of hope ebbed away. “get me as close as you can,” logan grumbled to scott, who didn’t respond with one of his usual remarks.

he understood the gravity of the situation.

you, the girl who swung with webs through new york city, hands outstretched to whoever needed help—a child who fell off their bike, a man kicking a vending machine that took his money, the elderly woman who needs help crossing the hectic street—you were there.

now, you were suspended midair, body lifeless as mysterio’s control seeped into your mind. citizens cried and begged, their fingertips barely able to reach you.

“ah, the x-men,” mysterio cooed, “come to save a fellow hero?”

the jet landed harshly, and logan leapt out. he stormed closer, feeling the soft breeze of ororo’s aura behind him. jean and scott joined them, their eyes blazing with rage.

“where did you take them?” scott shouted. mysterio’s arms stretched wide, “allow me to show you.”

the city faded to black.

bodies were thrown and tossed about, and logan seen you. your suit was shredded to pieces, your mask completely gone. your eyes were black, tears staining your cheeks. blood coated your skin as you stood atop a pile of bodies.

how long had you been here?

what were you seeing?

he turned around, tensing when he realized that he was the only one here. logan sprinted toward you, and your eyes jerked to him. you jumped, webs slinging out to stop him. webs cocooned him in seconds.

your fingertips dug into his face, “sick joke, mysterio. using him against me.”

“bub—“

“stop talking,” you seethed, fresh tears filling your eyes, “i will break your neck.” logan’s claws slid free, slicing through the webs and shoving you against the ground. his hand pressed against your throat—a warning. “listen to me,” his tone was firm, eyes dark with anger, “yer stuck in an illusion. he threw me in here w’you.”

“you’re—lying!” your knee dug harshly into his stomach, but he didn’t move. logan’s claws dug into the asphalt, solidifying his posture, “i ain’t lyin’, stubborn thing. it’s logan,” he stressed, eyes flicking all over your injuries, “look.”

he cautiously raised a hand, reaching for the neck of his white shirt and tugging the collar down. a thin chain with a ring looped onto it—the stupid matching rings you’d bought as a peace treaty after a big argument. you faltered in your fight, hand lifting to further pull the shirt down—

“now yer just pushin’ it.”

then he felt your fingertips brush along a scar.

one that very little knew was there.

the scar that you’d given him for moments like these, moments that needed proof and grounding. logan relaxed, leaning back and pulling you up with him. you traced the tiny X with care, and he frowned when tears filled your eyes. “c’mon, sweets. don’t cry.”

your palms roughly swiped at your eyes, your breaths growing scarce, and his hands easily found your wrists, “stop. breathe.”

you cried apologies, falling into his arms. logan sighed, standing up with you secure in his hold. he rubbed your back as he walked through the domain, ears tuned into finding his comrades.

when he reconnected with the group, ororo greeted you with a soft smile. you stayed in his arms, eyes forcefully averted from the carnage you’d unleashed in here. logan wasn’t worried about getting stuck in the domain, he knew they’d find their way out eventually.

but right now, he had you—his darling spider—in his arms, and you needed him.

HUMAN TORCH … johnny storm

you’d broken your arm in an intense fight with sandman. you remembered the sick crack, the way your forearm was angled incorrectly as you sheepishly showed it to the emergency room workers. you hadn’t been able to reset the bone, so it had begun to heal like that. the doctors, pitifully, had to re-break the bone just to fix it.

it healed a week ago.

johnny still hadn’t stopped pampering you.

he refused to “hand you over” to peter when the city called, he refused to let you do literally anything. tonight, peter had messaged you, desperate for help on an intel-related task. johnny was sleeping, and so, you’d taken the opportunity.

you quietly snuck out of the bedroom, suit zipped up and ready to go. herbie appeared at the end of the hallway, his little head tilting curiously. you knelt in front of him, gently rubbing his head, “i’ll be back soon, herbie. don’t worry.”

“johnny?” he beeped quietly.

“sleeping. if he’s up before i leave, tell him i went shopping. wait, no don’t tell him that, he’ll be upset,” you considered a proper response, sighing as you shook your head and came up empty, “just tell him i’m helping pete.”

herbie beeped, nodding. he nuzzled into your hand, and you smiled warmly. “bye, be good.”

he followed you to the balcony, watching you closely as you leapt off it. the sky was blanketed with stars as you zipped through the city, landing calmly on the appointed building. peter appeared from around the corner, waving as he landed. “hey, thanks for coming. did johnny let you go easy?”

“i didn’t wake him up,” you admitted, “didn’t feel like arguing and wasting time.” peter hummed knowingly, perching next to you and pointing at the condemned factory.

“kraven’s got stuff in there. need to know all about it.”

“easy,” you mused.

it was in fact, not easy.

you and peter breathed heavily behind cover, bullet wounds coating the two of you. “i’m sorry,” he whispered, wincing at a throb of pain. “uh-huh,” you mockingly replied, flinching when a bullet embedded the wall next to you.

you silently contemplated what to do—

you were cornered, blood dripping from nearly every part of your body. peter was in a similar shape, wounded and exhausted. you groaned, your head thumping against the wood crate, “use the signal.”

“seriously? johnny’s gonna kill us…”

“i’d rather die to him than these guys, pete. just do it.”

peter visibly accepted his fate, thumb pressing against the line of webbing that alerted the fantastic four. within seconds, your comms rang. you pressed your ear against your shoulder, too tired to raise your hands.

“that better not have anything to do with you.”

“i don’t know how to tell you this,” you laughed weakly, “but it kind of has everything to do with me.”

johnny didn’t speak, comms shutting off. peter met your masked eyes, “how bad?”

“he’s dead silent,” you solemnly said.

“shit.”

the glass erupted into shards, and you flinched when rapid gunshots fired. a bright orange glow encased the room, and you vaguely heard the soft thrumming of sue’s barrier.

loud footsteps sounded to your left, and you saw ben standing over the two of you.

“hey,” you and peter greeted casually, as if the two of you weren’t staining the floor red. johnny landed next to ben, expression utterly displeased and furious. he knelt next to you, sending a nasty stare towards peter as he scooped you up.

“i’m sorry, man!” peter shouted as johnny walked away. he didn’t say a word as he ignited into flames and shot off towards the hospital.

“stupid, stupid,” he muttered, “i’m gonna sell out everything he loves.”

“johnny—“

“you scared me, baby,” he admitted, “woke up to the signal going off, you not in my arms.”

you murmured an apology, doing your best to withstand the heat he emitted. your suit was fireproof, courtesy of reed, but some places were torn. “do you wanna know how long i’m keeping you to myself now?”

you sighed, eyes closing as you accepted the inevitable.

“how long, johnny?”

“three months.”

generous, you thought amusedly.

“you’re also prohibited from communicating with peter for a good year.”

the doctors made quick work of you, and you assured them your healing would take care of what they couldn’t quickly fix. they had other people to help, people that couldn’t self-sustain.

now, you were in bed with johnny.

he had you wrapped in his arms, tightly. “are you gonna hold me like this the whole three months?” you softly asked, tapping your fingers on his back to the rhythm of the song he’d chosen.

“if i have to. i’ll hold you in the shower, at dinnertime, while you get ready,” he listed off, eyes sparkling with mischief. you smiled, cuddling closer to him. he kissed your head, gently pulling you away so he can reach the rest of your face. he peppered kisses on your skin, pausing before he reached your lips.

his blue eyes swirled with worry and love, and you nodded.

he kissed you sweetly, embers flickering in his hair. you separated with a shy laugh, and he embraced you again.

“seriously, don’t scare me like that again. especially don’t just…leave.”

“would you have let me go help pete?”

“no. duh—but that’s not the point!”

[hypnos333]

I Can’t feel you

Rogue reader x invincible

Synopsis: 'Cause my love is mine, all mine. I love mine, mine, mine Nothing in the world belongs to me But my love, mine, all mine, all mine

The city is unusually quiet.

For once, there aren’t any alarms, collapsing buildings, or emergency calls pulling Mark away from you.

It’s just the two of you.

You sit together on the rooftop of his apartment building, the skyline glowing beneath the orange light of the setting sun. A cool breeze brushes against your hair as your legs dangle over the edge of the building.

Mark sits so close that your shoulders almost touch.

Almost.

The tiny gap between you feels so much bigger than it should.

His hand rests on the concrete beside yours.

Close enough that if you reached out—

You could hold it.

If only you were someone else.

He notices you staring.

“What?” he asks with a small smile.

You quickly shake your head, pretending it was nothing.

“Nothing.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“You’ve been looking at my hand for like… five minutes.”

A quiet laugh escapes you.

“Was I?”

“You were.”

You smile to yourself before looking back at the city.

“I was just thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

You nudge his shoulder with your own, careful to keep the leather of your jacket between you.

He grins.

“There she is.”

The smile fades from your face almost as quickly as it appeared.

“…Do you ever think about what normal people take for granted?”

Mark turns toward you.

“What do you mean?”

You stare down at your gloved hands.

“Touch.”

The word barely leaves your lips.

“They don’t think about it.”

Your fingers curl against your palms.

“They hug each other without asking.”

“They hold hands.”

“They fall asleep together.”

“They don’t have to stop themselves every time they want to reach for the person they love.” You continued

Silence settles between you.

Mark doesn’t interrupt.

He knows better.

You swallow hard.

“I’ve spent my whole life wondering what another person’s heartbeat feels like.”

His expression softens immediately.

You force out a laugh.

“Sounds kind of pathetic when I say it out loud.”

“No.”

His voice is firm.

“It doesn’t.”

You glance toward him.

“I wonder if your heartbeat is fast.”

He chuckles quietly.

“It usually is around you.”

Your smile returns.

Small.

Fragile.

“I’ll never know.”

Mark instinctively reaches toward your face. His fingers stop only inches from your cheek.

So is stopping himself.

The invisible wall between you hangs in the air.

You slowly lift your gloved hand, placing it gently against the back of his suspended hand.

Leather against skin.

The closest you’ll ever get.

“I can’t feel you, Mark.”

Your voice trembles.

He closes his eyes.

“You know my heart beats for you.”

“I know.”

A tear slips beneath your lashes.

“But your heart may beat for me…”

Your smile finally breaks.

“I still can’t feel it.”

For a long moment…

Neither of you speaks.

Mark slowly rests his forehead against yours, careful not to let your skin meet.

His eyes stay closed.

“I’ll find a way.”

“You always say that.” you stated

“Because I refuse to believe this is forever.”

He lets out a shaky breath.

“One day…”

His voice is barely above a whisper.

“…I’m going to hold your hand without thinking about it.”

He put the palm of his gloved hand over her lips and kissed it.

You smile through your tears.

“I’d like that.”

_______

You press your gloved hand over his chest, your fingers trembling so badly you can barely keep them still. Your breathing catches as tears blur your vision.

“Mark…” Your voice breaks. “Sugar…”

You shake your head over and over, desperately searching his face.

“I can’t…” A sob escapes before you can stop it. “I can’t feel your heart.”

You let out a shaky breath, your forehead lowering until it nearly rests against his.

“I know it’s beating… I know it is…” Another tear slips down your cheek. “But I can’t feel it, Mark.”

Even through the pain, he manages to lift his hand. His arm shakes from the effort, barely strong enough to reach you. His fingertips brush against your gloved wrist before his hand falls weakly into yours.

He gives you the faintest smile.

“Hey…” His voice is little more than a whisper. “Don’t… don’t do that.”

You look down at him, tears falling freely.

“You’re scaring me.”

He exhales a shaky laugh that turns into a cough.

“I’m still here.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

His thumb moves weakly against your glove, as if trying to reassure you despite barely having the strength to keep his eyes open.

“You always said…” He pauses to catch a breath. “…you couldn’t feel my heartbeat.”

His smile is tired but gentle.

“You never needed to.”

Your lip trembles.

“Mark…”

“It…” He swallows with difficulty. “…it beats for you anyway.”

You break down completely, shaking your head.

“Don’t talk like that.”

“Look at me.”

You force yourself to meet his eyes.

“I’m coming back,” he whispers. “You hear me?”

His breathing is uneven now, every word costing him.

“So… don’t say goodbye.”

Before you can answer, the blue glow of a GDA portal floods the street as Cecil and the medics rush toward you. Mark’s eyes stay on yours until they’re forced to lift him from your arms, his hand slipping from your gloved fingers at the very last moment.

[hypnos333]

Hummingbird

Spidey reader x invincible

Synopsis: Some ghosts aren’t buried—they live in the choices you can’t take back.

The city had seen heroes fall before.

Just never you.

One moment, you’re swinging between collapsing buildings, your web shooters firing one strand after another as you pull civilians out of the wreckage. Your suit is torn across your shoulder, blood soaking through the fabric, but you don’t stop. There are still people trapped below.

“Get out of here!” Mark shouts, hovering above you as he catches a falling piece of the overpass with both hands. “I’ve got this!”

You look up at him through the cracks in your mask.

“And leave you to do all the work?” you call back, forcing a grin. “Not happening.”

Even from across the street, you can see the worry in his face.

“You can barely stand!”

“I’ve been through worse!”

It isn’t true.

You’re exhausted.

Your web shooters are running low.

Your left wrist hurts every time you fire another web.

But people are still screaming.

So you keep moving.

⸻

The villain smiles.

A cold, cruel smile.

“I wonder,” they say, watching the two of you, “which hero he’ll save first.”

Everything suddenly became still.

You barely had time to react before something wrapped around your waist.

A metal cable.

It tightened violently.

“What—”

The cable yanked you backward with enough force to rip you off the side of the building.

Your stomach lurched as the city flipped upside down.

Your web shooter fired automatically.

The web connected—

Then instantly snapped as another explosion tore through the structure.

“____!”

Mark’s head whipped toward you.

Before he could move—

Another blast erupted beneath Eve.

The rooftop collapsed underneath her feet.

She disappeared into the falling debris.

⸻

The villain floated calmly between the two of you.

One hand held you suspended hundreds of feet above the street by the cable wrapped around your body.

The other controlled the collapsing steel trapping Eve beneath the remains of the rooftop.

You struggled against the restraints, trying to free one arm.

Your breathing became shallow as the cable dug painfully into your ribs.

Mark stopped moving.

His chest rose and fell rapidly.

His eyes darted between you…

Then Eve…

Then back to you again.

The villain smiled.

“There it is.”

They laughed softly.

“The look every hero eventually gets.”

Mark’s jaw clenched.

“Let them go.”

“I will.”

The villain nodded almost casually.

“But first…”

Their grin widened.

“…let’s find out who matters more.”

Your stomach dropped.

“No…”

The word escaped before you could stop it.

The villain ignored you.

“You can only save one.”

Silence.

Even the battle around you seemed to disappear.

His breathing became frantic.

“No…”

His voice cracked.

“I can’t choose.”

“You already are.”

The villain’s smile never faltered.

“Two.”

The building beneath Eve finally began collapsing.

Mark’s instincts took over.

Before his mind could catch up…

His body moved.

He exploded forward through the air.

Straight toward Eve.

It happened in less than a second.

Pure instinct.

Pure reaction.

He reached her just as the rooftop gave way completely.

His arms wrapped around her, pulling her free from the collapsing steel.

The instant he felt her weight in his arms…

He froze.

His eyes widened.

His heart stopped.

“No…”

Slowly…

He looked over his shoulder.

Toward you.

Still hanging in the air.

Still waiting.

Your eyes met his.

You didn’t look angry.

You didn’t look betrayed.

You just looked…

Heartbroken.

Because for one tiny moment…

You had watched him fly away from you.

⸻

“No…”

Mark whispered.

His voice barely existed anymore.

“No… no, no…”

He carefully set Eve onto the nearest rooftop.

She immediately grabbed his arm.

“Mark!”

But he was already gone.

The air shattered behind him as he launched himself toward you.

Faster than he’d ever flown before.

The city blurred beneath him.

His hand stretched desperately toward yours.

“____!”

You reached for him.

Your fingertips brushed together.

So close.

You could feel the warmth of his skin.

You could almost grab him.

Then…

The villain smiled.

With a flick of their wrist, they released the cable.

You dropped.

Straight into the collapsing skyscraper below.

“NO!”

Mark dove after you.

He wasn’t fast enough.

The entire building folded inward.

Concrete.

Steel.

Glass.

Everything crashed down around you.

Your hand disappeared beneath thousands of tons of rubble.

The last thing Mark saw…

Was your mask.

Then even that vanished beneath the collapsing building.

⸻

He hit the rubble so hard the impact sent cracks racing through every nearby street.

“No!”

He dug immediately.

Throwing entire walls aside.

Steel beams twisted apart in his hands.

Concrete exploded into dust as he ripped through floor after floor.

“I’M HERE!”

His voice echoed through the city.

“I’M HERE!”

His hands were already bleeding.

He didn’t notice.

“I CAME BACK!”

Another section of the building disappeared.

“I DIDN’T LEAVE YOU!”

His breathing turned into sobs between every sentence.

“I DIDN’T CHOOSE HER OVER YOU!”

More rubble flew into the air.

“I SWEAR I DIDN’T!”

His voice broke completely.

“It was instinct…”

Another beam.

Another wall.

Another floor.

“I was coming back…”

His movements slowed.

His shoulders began shaking uncontrollably.

“I was coming back for you…”

His knees finally gave out beneath him.

He collapsed into the crater he’d created.

Dust settled around him.

His bloodied hands hung limply at his sides.

The realization settled over him with unbearable weight.

You had seen him fly away.

You never saw him turn back.

And if those were your final moments…

Then the last thing you believed—

The last thing you carried with you—

Was that when Mark Grayson was forced to choose…

He hadn’t chosen you.

That thought shattered him far more completely than any villain ever could.

⸻ ⸻

The funeral is over.

People slowly drift away, speaking in hushed voices, offering condolences that blur together into meaningless noise.

“She was brave.”

“She died a hero.”

“She saved so many people.”

Mark doesn’t hear any of it.

He stands perfectly still in front of your grave, his hands shoved into the pockets of a black jacket that doesn’t quite hide the bandages wrapped around his knuckles.

He hasn’t said a word. Not once. Just tears running down his face

Not when they lowered your casket.

Not when Debbie hugged him.

Not when Cecil tried to apologize.

Not when William quietly placed flowers beside your picture.

He just stares at your name carved into the stone.

As if he’s waiting for you to laugh and tell everyone it was some elaborate joke.

You never do.

⸻

Days pass.

Then weeks.

Mark stops answering calls.

He barely sleeps.

His apartment slowly becomes unrecognizable.

Your hoodie still hangs over the back of the couch.

Your coffee mug is still sitting beside the sink.

A pair of your sneakers rests by the front door exactly where you left them.

He refuses to move any of it.

Some nights he catches himself listening for the familiar thwip of your web shooters outside his window.

Other nights he swears he hears your laugh coming from the kitchen.

Every time he rushes toward the sound…

The apartment is empty.

Every single time.

Eve slowly sits beside him.

“It wasn’t a choice.”

“It was.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“It felt like one to her.”

He finally turns to look at Eve.

His eyes are bloodshot from weeks of sleepless nights.

“You don’t understand.”

“I never stopped loving her.”

“I know.”

“I would’ve died for her.”

“I know.”

“I would’ve crossed the planet to save her.”

“I know.”

“So why…”

His voice trembles.

“…why wasn’t I fast enough?”

Eve doesn’t have an answer.

Because there isn’t one.

.

“I came back.” His voice cracks.

“I came back for her.”

“I know you did.”

“She didn’t see that.”

His shoulders tense.

“The last thing she saw…”

He swallows hard.

“…was me flying away.”

Eve’s chest tightens.

“Mark—”

“I chose you.”

The words stop her cold.

He doesn’t raise his voice.

He doesn’t look at her.

He just keeps staring at the city. Her hand holding his.

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.”

“But I did.”

[voxslays]

[waitimcomingtoo]

I’m a huge fan of your writing!!! You’re so talented 💖✨ Can I please request a protective tom/peter story? Thanks love!!

Wheezy

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: Peter is the only one who can tease you about your asthma

Masterlist

Requests are CLOSED

You were in second grade when you found out you had asthma.

Unfortunately, the rest of the second grade class found out too. Your asthma wasn’t too serious, mainly triggered by nerves, but every so often you’d have to take a hit off your inhaler to calm yourself down. That didn’t hinder the merciless teasing from your classmates for not knowing how to breath. There was one thing that hindered the teasing though…

Keep reading

[hypnos333]

Heavenize

Tamsy x Female Reader

Synopsis: To render like heaven or fit for heaven, to purify and make hold a place or a person.

People always misunderstood what it meant to be pure.

They thought purity meant being untouched. Never making mistakes. Never carrying anything ugly.

But Tamsy Knew better.

Purity was something created.

Something earned.

Something that survived.

he learned that the first time he met her.

you were strange in a way he couldn't explain. There was always a calmness surrounding her, like the world could collapse around her and he would still stand there quietly, watching.

Almost like he was searching for her.

"You look at me like im something worth saving." her voice caught him off guard.

Tamsy blinked "what?"

He tilted his head slightly, studying you with that unreadable expression.

"You look at everyone like that" he continued looking at the details of her expression. "like there's still something good left in them" He continued

She smiled like heaven it self "Maybe there is"

He smiled hooking his hands to your waist, continuing to glance at your lips. As you ran your fingers through his hair making him melt.

"You're interesting."

You laugh softly. "Thats your way of saying you like me?"

"Maybe."

His answer was too simple, too honest.

And somehow that made your Angel heart beat faster.

You were someone who believed everything could be transformed. that even things thrown away could become something meaningful again.

But you wondered if he believed the same thing as you.

"you know" He stated "You dont always have to fix everything."

His eyes still staring ar your wide ones.

"I dont?"

"No" He continued

"Sometimes things dont need to be purified. they just need someone to see them."

The silence between you felt different after that.

Softer.

Like the world had paused.

Tamsy looked at you like you were some kind of impossible thing he couldn’t understand.

Like you were a piece of heaven he never expected to find in a place like this.

“Then what do you see when you look at me?”

He leans in, carefully, he was close and your sure he can feel your heart beating like the wind. All you feel was him and all he feels is you. He whispers

“I see someone who’s been trying to make everyone else feel clean… but forgot she deserves that too.”

his lips touching yours before you could respond.

His lips are softer than anything you've ever known, soft like a first snowfall, like biting into clouds, like melting and floating and being weightless in water. Its sweet, its so effortlessly sweet.

[hypnos333]

​I absolutely love your writing for The Boondocks! Could you possibly do a one-shot where Huey and a sunshine!reader are sitting on the hill? The reader keeps asking Huey how much he loves her, and it turns into this sweet back-and-forth where they’re just trying to outdo each other. I'd love to see how Huey handles that!

How Much?

Huey freeman x Reader

Synopisis: Sunshine reader keeps asking Huey how much he loves her, and it turns into this sweet back-and-forth where they’re just trying to outdo each other.

The hill had always been quiet, the kind of quiet that didn’t feel empty but instead felt like a rare moment where the world finally stopped moving fast enough for Huey to breathe. It was quiet enough to hear the wind slowly moving through the grass, quiet enough to hear the distant sounds of the neighborhood below, and quiet enough that Huey could actually think without feeling like the weight of everything happening around him was constantly demanding his attention.

Which was exactly why he liked coming here.

The hill was one of the few places where he didn’t feel like he had to have all the answers. He didn’t have to explain himself, defend his thoughts, or carry the responsibility of understanding a world that often made no sense.

He could just exist.

Well…

That was true before you started coming with him.

Because somehow, you had a way of taking even his quietest moments and filling them with something he never expected — warmth.

You sat beside him, your shoulder gently brushing against his as you looked out over the neighborhood below. The sun was slowly sinking into the horizon, covering everything in soft shades of orange and gold, making the entire world look calmer than it usually felt.

Huey was reading, like always.

A book in his hands, his expression focused, his mind somewhere between the words on the page and the endless thoughts that seemed to follow him everywhere.

You, however, weren’t reading.

You were watching him.

The way his eyebrows slightly furrowed when he was thinking.

The way he would quietly turn the page.

The way he acted like he wasn’t paying attention, even though you knew he always was.

For about five minutes, you let him enjoy the silence.

Then—

“Huey?”

He didn’t look up.

“What?”

You smiled softly, already knowing you were about to interrupt whatever serious thought was running through his mind.

“How much do you love me?”

A pause.

Not a dramatic one.

Just a moment where Huey processed the question, like he was trying to figure out why you asked something that, to him, already had an obvious answer.

Slowly, he lowered his book.

“...That’s your question Beloved?”

You smiled wider.

“Yes.”

Huey stared at you, his eyes narrowing slightly like he was trying to determine if this was some kind of trick.

“It’s an impossible question.”

You tilted your head.

“Why?”

“Because love isn’t something you measure.”

You nodded like you understood, but the small smile on your face told him you weren’t done.

“Okay, but if you had to measure it?”

Huey let out a quiet sigh, already knowing where this was going.

“I don’t know.”

You waited.

“A lot.”

Your mouth fell open dramatically.

“A lot?”

“Yes.”

“That’s it?”

Huey raised an eyebrow.

“You asked me how much. I answered.”

You laughed, leaning slightly into him.

“You answered like you were being interviewed by a government official.”

“I’m sorry my response lacked unnecessary enthusiasm.”

You shook your head, smiling.

“You’re so bad at this.”

“I’m actually very good at this.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes.”

“Prove it.”

Huey looked at you for a moment.

He could tell you weren’t asking because you doubted him.

You just liked hearing him say things he normally kept hidden.

So he closed his book.

“I love you enough to sit here and answer these questions even though you already know the answer.”

Your expression softened.

Because that was such a Huey answer.

Not a big dramatic confession.

Not some perfectly written speech.

Just something simple.

Something honest.

You smiled.

“Okay…”

A small pause.

“That was actually cute.”

“I know.”

You immediately laughed.

“Don’t ruin it.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

A small smirk appeared on his face.

The kind that only showed up when he was comfortable enough to stop pretending he didn’t enjoy your teasing.

You looked back at the sky.

“Okay, my turn.”

Huey sighed.

“I didn’t ask.”

“I love you more.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Based on what?”

You looked at him confidently.

“Based on the fact that I’m amazing.”

“That’s not evidence.”

“It is.”

“It’s a personal opinion.”

“And a correct one.”

Huey shook his head.

“You’re impossible.”

“And you love me.”

“Yes.”

“See?”

“That proves nothing.”

“It proves everything.”

He tried to hide the smile forming on his face.

You noticed immediately.

“You smiled.”

“I did not.”

“You did.”

“I didn’t.”

“You’re smiling right now.”

Huey looked away.

“Your observation skills are impressive. Unfortunately, your conclusion is incorrect.”

You laughed again.

“You always talk like you’re debating someone.”

“Because usually I am.”

“And with me?”

He looked at you.

“With you, I’m usually losing.”

That made you pause.

Because coming from Huey Freeman, that meant more than he probably realized.

Huey didn’t give people pieces of himself easily.

He didn’t say things just because they sounded nice.

Every emotion he showed was something he carefully chose to reveal.

You softened.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Huey looked toward the horizon.

“Because you somehow manage to make me care about things I normally wouldn’t.”

You tilted your head.

“Like what?”

“Like watching movies I don’t want to watch. Going places I don’t want to go. Listening to stories I’ve already heard.”

You smiled.

“Wow. Romantic.”

“I’m not finished.”

You became quiet.

Because you knew when Huey said that, he meant it.

He looked down for a moment before speaking.

“I used to think caring about someone made you weaker.”

Your expression softened.

“And now?”

Huey looked at you.

“Now I think pretending you don’t care is worse.”

For once, you didn’t have a joke ready.

Because beneath all his logic, beneath all his arguments and his endless need to understand the world, Huey was just someone who cared deeply.

Someone who loved deeply.

He just showed it differently.

You smiled.

“So… you love me more.”

Huey immediately looked annoyed.

“That is not what I said.”

“It’s what I heard.”

“You heard incorrectly.”

“Nope.”

“That’s not how conversations work.”

“It is when I win.”

“You’re impossible.”

“You said that already.”

“Because it remains true.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder.

“Okay, okay. Final answer. How much do you love me?”

Huey looked down at you.

This time, he didn’t answer right away.

He just looked at you.

At the person who somehow made him laugh when he didn’t feel like laughing.

The person who reminded him that life wasn’t only about fighting battles.

The person who made the world feel a little less heavy.

Then he finally spoke.

“Enough.”

You frowned playfully.

“Enough?”

“Yes.”

“That sounds suspiciously small.”

“It isn’t.”

“Explain.”

Huey looked back at the sunset.

“Enough to choose you.”

You went quiet.

“Enough to make time for you.”

Another pause.

“Enough to let you annoy me every day.”

You smiled.

“And?”

He looked at you.

“Enough to know that life would be different without you.”

Your smile grew.

“Okay…”

“What?”

“I think I win.”

Huey sighed.

“Of course you do.”

“I do.”

“You always have to have the last word.”

“Not always.”

“Name one time.”

You thought.

You looked away.

Then—

“...No.”

Huey shook his head.

But he was smiling.

And even though he would never admit it, sitting on that hill with you — arguing over who loved who more, listening to your laughter, feeling the warmth of your presence beside him — was exactly where he wanted to be.

Because for once, he wasn’t trying to change the world.

He wasn’t carrying every problem on his shoulders.

He wasn’t searching for some impossible answer.

He was just enjoying the one thing he never expected to find.

A quiet moment.

A safe place.

A person who made everything feel a little lighter.

And for Huey Freeman…

That was more than enough.

[tonycries]

MILKSHAKE! - T.F.

Synopsis. Your milkshakes aren’t bringing all the boys bulls to the yard? You’ve never been properly fúcked through your heats? Don’t worry, there’s a new bull hybrid on the farm - Toji Fushiguro. And he promises to milk you dry.

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!cow hybrid!reader, bull hybrid!Toji, farm AU, hybrids AU, farmer!Shiu cameo, RÚTS, feraI Toji, he’s kept away, face-sítting, oraI (fem rec.), spítting, fíngering, manhandIing, overstím, he’s BIG, making it fit, p sIapping, p talking, mean Toji, tummy buIges, Toji with níppIe píercings, heat-inducing, first times (for you), vírginíty Ioss, ROUGH s, tail-pulling, running from it, dúmbifícation, BRÉEDING, matíng presses, Iactation, drinking it, creampíes, cúmpIay, implied marathon, slight exhíbitionísm, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 12.8k

A/N. ALRIGHT ALRIIIIIIIGHT- inspired by this tiktok by the gorgeous @/v4mpyrf4e (an absolute sweetheart, tysm for letting me write this) and to all the babygirls who summoned me there <33

“Another bull hybrid?” Shiu growls into his phone, listening to the conversation crackling from the other end of the line. “A Japanese Shorthorn at that?”

Those things were huge…

With a hand on his hip, he casts a thoughtful look out into the horizon. The beaming, bustling, sun-baked farm; amongst the tufts of grass, Shiu’s hybrids grazed, occasionally flicking their ears in the direction of the conversation. All but one of them. 

In the shade of the overlarge crimson barn, he could spot you dozing away in the shade—one of his proudest purebred cows. 

“No- no, I hear you.” He listens to farmer Kusakabe’s begging, “It’s not a space issue, it’s just…” Shiu hesitates, throwing yet another glance your way. Still dazed. Still exhausted. “It’s just that one of my cow hybrids- yes, her- fine, my favorite, just finished her heat. And I was worried that introducing a new bull would…”

A few more pleas. 

Until, ultimately, the farmer sighs. 

“Fine…send this Toji over then.”

“Oh, thank fuck! You have no idea how much I appreciate it, man.” Kusakabe bellows in celebration, and Shiu’s forced to lean his head away from the speaker if ever he valued his ear drums.

Atsuya Kusakabe was a farmer specializing in hybrids just like Shiu was, though his friend had taken it a step further and raised only bulls on his farm. Though he really did reconsider this friendship when the other was trying to pawn off one of his biggest bulls on him for a few days.

In his bemused wonderment at his friend, Shiu almost doesn’t register the soft nudge of something against his open palm. Something warm, something silky. He snaps his head down- and a sudden smile spreads across his face as he realizes just who it was.

You’d wandered off from your cosy lil’ corner, and cuddled up to him leisurely. 

“Hey there, girlie.” Shiu whispers, reaching his fingers up to scratch behind your ecstatic ears. You weren’t quite the social hybrid, even amongst your own kind. Always frolicking by yourself when let out to graze, always straying behind the group after milking. 

Shiu couldn’t even tease enough out of you (not even half a bucket!) when compared to the rest of the cows here. But the thing is, you seemed perfectly content with your few close attachments on the farm, your few friends, your rejection of many bulls (and trust that the attempts to woo were many). And whether that was because you’d grown too attached to him, whether that was just the way you were - he didn’t exactly mind.

He knew he shouldn’t have favorites, and yet…here you were.

“Feeling all better?” He’s asking, and you’re nodding languidly. Still tired, then. This season’s heat had been as powerful as ever - out of all his hybrids, it was safe to say that you had one of the strongest.

The neediest.

The sultriest.

Which wouldn’t even have been notable if you’d just let another bull hybrid mount you through them to ease the urges, perhaps even result in a cute lil’ calf for his farm- but that was exactly the problem. 

You didn’t.

Shiu couldn’t even count on two hands how many times he’d tried to pair you off with one of his bulls - and each time had ended in a disaster. Either you’d barricaded yourself in another part of your barn room, or you’d claw your way outside altogether. Each and every time, Shiu would check on you in the middle of your heats to find that you were in the throes of your desires, fiddling with nothing but the toys he’d gifted you, and his sullen bulls would be pouting n’ pushed off to one side. Useless, really.

No matter how needy you were, you just wouldn’t take to them. And it wasn’t that they were particularly weak, or unattractive - there was Ino who you’d just ended up chatting through your heat with, Kashimo and Ijichi who you’d both kicked out, Takaba who you didn’t even look at, Naoya who you…

Yeah, he didn’t want to think about the beaten-up state you’d left Naoya in. It made him laugh.

He wondered who the problem was - those bulls that couldn’t woo you properly, or you who couldn’t be wooed.

He blamed the bulls.

And he’s patting the top of your head tenderly, carefully avoiding the slight protrusions of your horns that were oh-so-sensitive. Mutterly absent-mindedly, “It’s alright, it’s alright. Trust that we’ll find you a proper mate next year, girlie.”

You can only nod unsurely, gesturing at his phone. “Someone’s talking, Shiu.”

“Huh? Oh someone’s-” Oh, right, he was in the middle of his call still. He’d almost forgotten. Shiu tunes into the latest of Kusakabe’s spiel, and it didn’t seem like he’d missed out on anything too important—

“-had no idea what I was going to do for the few days I’d be in Tokyo for the Hybrid Farms Convention, I’ll pick him up right on my way back from there.”

“Mhm, sounds good.” He rattles off.

“You can keep him anywhere you like, to be honest. He doesn’t have any specific requirements, he’s just as sturdy as he is massive- hah! Though, I do give Toji a separate room of his own from the others…just in case.”

“Mhmmm.”

“My apprentices will be taking care of it while he’s gone, all ready for that big boy to be back.”

“Mhmmm.” Shiu lightly furrows his brows—if he has apprentices, and he has other bulls he’s leaving behind, then why did he need to leave Toji in particular with Shiu again? Oh, whatever…

“And you remember what I said earlier, right?”

Well, he wasn’t really listening but…“Mhm-”

“You have to keep an eye on Toji while he’s in rut.”

“Mh-” Shiu’s eyes bug out of his scalp, his knees grow a little weak, and he damn near drops his phone- oh, too late. He’s already dropped his phone down into the green grass below, startling you in the process. “While he’s in what?”

.

.

.

Name: Toji Fushiguro

Age: 30’s (approx.)

Hybrid type: Bos taurus

Height: 6’2+

Weight class: 1600kg - 1800kg.

Other notes: Subject has a sleek black coat, high intelligence, and a somewhat temperamental demeanour. He will insult you if it comes to infringing upon his freedom. Does not care for medical exams. Continuous horn growth that shows evidence of strong fighting capabilities, fatal power, and weapon-like appendages. It should be noted that the subject is of a larger size even amongst Bos taurus (in particular, the Nambu shorthorn bulls) and needs larger spaces of leisure than most. Take care to handle, needs multiple handlers.

Shiu’s face only grows pale as he reads down the medical sheet, quickly flicking his eyes to the very end so that he might be able to spare himself some of the torture.

-particularly powerful ruts with the urge to breed. According to the handler, it is noted that the subject has not spent a rut in the presence of a mate.

Even paler.

To emphasize, he is unmated.

And paler.

And currently nearing his rut.

For the second time in the past 24 hours (which isn’t many times, but it’s strange that it’s happened twice) Shiu’s fingers drop whatever he was holding in shock. Diligently, you’re right beside the farmer to pick up the piece of paper and hand it to him - giggling when he drops it for a third time.

Though, it was by sheer miracle that he doesn’t just faint right then and there.

Oh—he catches a glimpse of Kusakabe’s large white cattle trailer backing up into his hybrid pen and can feel himself teetering already. Thankfully, you were right there to nudge your head against his frame in support, slightly worried for the human man.

Because not only was Toji said to be nearing his merciless rut, but according to the medical sheet that his friend (‘friend’ hah!) had handed to him, he was unmated?

Makes sense, Kusakabe’s farm specialized in bulls.

But perhaps if Toji had a mate then the cow hybrids of this farm would be safe- he casts a sidelong look your way. Perhaps you - with your still-sweetened pheromones, and your even sweeter demeanour - would be safe.

“Something wrong, Shiu?” You’re asking, worriedly.

“N-nothing-” The farmer places a hand on your head and pats, faintly. “Nothing at all, don’t you worry about a thing, girlie.”

Ah, well…Shiu thinks to himself, watching as the truck finally finishes reversing, and Kusakabe (that bastard!) slides out of the driver’s seat to open up the towering steel door in the back. It looked so massive compared to the admittedly above-average man, and that only made Shiu’s tension increase twofold at what may be lurking behind those metal gates.

Ones that seem to burst open with a roaring screeeech—

“Oh, shit.” His mouth was desert-dry, his grip unyielding on you who’d been angling your head to get a better look. “Oh, shit.”

Because Toji Fushiguro was massive.

Dominating.

So many thousands of kilograms of a hybrid that sauntered smugly out of the trailer, as if he owned it. As if he owned this entire farm and everyone in it. 

The rest of the hybrids were drawn in by the commotion, turning their curious eyes towards the refined horns that gleamed as they entered the light. Towards the thundering ground. The powerful flank. The polished coat. The single golden ring ‘round his nostrils.

And you had to admit that you didn’t expect him to be so…handsome.

All ruggedly scarred lips from his tussles, and a face that seemed to be carved by the heavens above. You let your widened peripherals glide down the smooth skin of his front; all broad shoulders, prominent pecs, the cutest golden hoops pierced through his pink nipples, and abs for days. He shakes his shaggy black bangs out of his gaze. 

Those smug verdant eyes that take one look your way - the way that Shiu had his possessive hold on you - and narrow. 

Kusakabe startles as his prized bull hybrid suddenly stops in his tracks, his grip on his leash slightly faltering. And it seems that everyone within the pen holds their breath as a low huff of gruff displeasure leaves Toji, scorching hot fury reaching where you were.

Jaw clenching.

Eyes flashing.

He lowers his horned head as if he was about to-

“Ah ah-” Kusakabe’s the one to break through the charged tension on the farm with his command. He tugs on Toji’s firm leash, though, as a farmer, Shiu thinks he could see the slight waver in his movements.

Toji’s rumbling in refusal, tugging against the restraints. And Kusakabe’s nearly thrown off his feet- before he’s holding onto the side of the truck for balance, pulling the bull hybrid away from where his sights were set. “Easy, boy, easy.” He’s looking at you two with an apologetic smile, “Sorry, he’s just a bit excited with the ru-”

“Ahem ahem ahem-” Shiu suddenly coughs, cutting off the other man. “Better get him settled inside his enclosure, Kusakabe. Don’t want any more trouble now…”

“Ah- right, right.”

And with a slight swat at Toji’s flank, he’s fighting against the hybrid to guide him towards that lil’ enclosure made specifically for him. Shiu had taken care to section it off from the rest of the pen where the cows were, with hardy wooden tree trunks that composed the fences. And not one, but two padlocks that Kusakabe seems relieved to lock once he’s managed to get him inside.

Hands slightly shaking where Toji breathes hotly down his neck, black tail flicking in irritation.

“Calm down, calm down.” The farmer wasn’t sure whether he was telling it to Toji or himself- finally finishing off with the locks and looking up at him. “Now- you be a good boy, alright. Don’t give Shiu any trouble, don’t fight too hard with the other bulls- no use in telling you not to fight, I know you won’t listen to that anyway, and no matter what-”

Toji raises an unimpressed brow as Kusakabe raises a directing finger.

“-no going overboard with your rut.”

“And what exactly does ‘overboard’ mean?” Shiu wearily nears the special pen, arms carefully lifted off of you and wrapped around his own body in comfort.

Kusakabe beams, “No idea! We’ve never had him near cows before!”

Shiu felt like hitting him.

“Well, she just got off her heat-” At the way that Toji’s nostrils flare, his grin widens, Shiu almost regrets saying that with a gesture towards you. Oh? He blocks the bull’s greedy line of sight towards you, and grumbles. “-so no funny business.”

Toji scoffs.

“Use your words, Toji.” Kusakabe pleads, “No need to be like that.”

And he takes a second to pause. To consider. To seemingly mull over his words before- “Eat my ass-”

“Toji-”

“That’s it-” Shiu spits, not waiting for either man nor hybrid to finish before he’s stomping off to where you were watching the commotion from (as was the rest of the farm, but it seems like this hulking intruder had eyes only for you). 

And with his hand placed gently where your flower-patterned collar was, Shiu leads you away from the herd. Away from the pen. Away from Toji, towards the barn where your room was. “That’s it- for the time that that bull is here, he won’t be seeing a single glimpse of you, that’s for sure.”

“But why?” You whine, your head tugging backwards. And Shiu could almost balk at the way that you - you - were half-heartedly resisting his grip, trying to look back at Toji. “Why can’t I-”

“Because.”

And that was that, you were isolated inside the barn, and Toji was padlocked away in his pen. Far, far away from you for the time that he’d be staying there.

And as Kusakabe waves his exit from his farm, promising to be back in a few days, Shiu makes sure to get a good punch in (all in good friendship, of course). Because Shiu Kong was calm. Shiu Kong was composed. Shiu Kong could survive just a few days with an in-rut bull hybrid infiltrating his farm.

“And how long until you’re back again?”

“Three- ouch, three days. You have a good right hook, man.”

After all, it was exactly that - just a few days.

What’s the worst that could happen?

.

.

.

The first day.

Toji could see you.

Through the slightest crack in those barn doors, just the tips of your ears peaking out as you glimpse at him. It turns out that just Shiu’s command couldn’t hold you, and you staggered your way up to the barn doors whenever that damned farmer of yours wasn’t around to see. Watching. Waiting.

Taking in the sight of him.

And it wasn’t that Toji wasn’t used to stares - he was a prized bull hybrid, larger than most. So it was quite the given that he’d gather stares from competition, from unmated cows, hell, even from farmers who would like their chance at raising human-hybrid offspring. And so it wasn’t exactly new…

But just this way you were looking at him…it made him shiver.

Those pretty doe-eyes held up a curious, somewhat fearful, admiration. A slight arousal dampening between your legs that his honed senses could smell from even here—

Toji swears something in him had snapped the very split-second that he’d arrived here.

That he’d first locked eyes with you.

That he’d first sniffed at the remaining sweetness of your heat. Your sex.

Every sense in him right now (even the rational ones) were screaming at him to break out of this enclosure and waltz right up to you, break through those barn doors if he had to. He wanted to smell your pheromones. To hold you. To stuff his hot, throbbing cock between your legs and watch as you struggle to take it all.

He wanted to breed you.

And - multiple times - Toji found himself barging against the locked doors of his pen. Whispering your sweet, sweet name underneath his breath (learned from some of the other hybrids that watched him), ramming his horns against the wooden walls.

He was in rut.

Badly.

Badly, badly, badly.

The sheer intensity of it was more than anything else he’d ever felt- fuck, not even his first rut had felt this strong. It wasn’t that he was unmated. It wasn’t that he was in an unfamiliar place. It was just you, you, you.

Taking the wind out of his lungs. Making his length ache heavily between his strong legs. Wafting his intoxicating scent - something spicily sweet, with a peculiar tang in it that made you drunk on it like liquor, like mulled wine - all the way to where you were watching from the barn doors.

You’re sagging heavily against its wooden frame to take it in, sighing at the murky pheromones that seemed to cloud the entire farm-

“Oi, girlie!” 

And through it all, that damned Shiu had made sure to cockblock him.

Even now,  here came his annoying, grating tone. He’d kept a close eye on Toji ever since Kusakabe had left in his truck, rarely straying too far from the hybrid pen. He was always butting in, always breaking the stare-down between you two.

With one hand on his hip, the farmer watches as you startle at his voice. Suddenly hurrying to stumble back inside the barn where you came from.

And it would’ve almost been cute had it not been a result of you breaking one of his direct rules: do not interact with the bull in rut. But the thing is, you’d never seen a bull like him—and he was in rut? Oh…

Shiu barks out, “Where’d you think you were going, huh? Yeah- that’s right, inside.” And with you gone, Shiu would glare up at Toji. Toji wasn’t shy to glare right back.

“Problem?” He smiles.

“Yeah-” The farmer had crinkled his nose- and pointed at the way that Toji had been impatiently pushing against the enclosing walls, trying to break out, trying to get to you. He spits out distastefully, “-that. Don’t think you’re getting anywhere near her, got it?”

“Not at all.”

That night, Shiu had sent for a few more locks to be delivered from the hardware store downtown (he wasn’t even sure that they did delivery, but he’d coax them into if it meant not taking his eyes off of you). Multiple. He’d fixed them onto the gates of Toji’s pen, “This should keep you out.” Shiu had declared, jangling the metallic additions with one hand. “Not even the finest bulls in the world would be able to break through these. Hah! Take that.”

“Fuck off.”

He’d charged at the other man, but alas, the gates stayed steadfast.

.

.

.

The second day.

Toji had murmured your name like a mantra all night.

All night.

Again and again and again-

“He really doesn’t seem so bad, Shiu.” You’d tried to whine to the farmer, when he’d come back into the barn after fixing a few more locks - the count was reaching upwards of ten by now - on the gates of the bull’s enclosure.

But Shiu had only waved off your pleading noises, “Now, don’t give me that look. I heard the way he was ramming against those gates last night, I heard his bellows.” Needless to say, you had, too…“And I just don’t think it’s safe for you to be out when such a bull is in rut, girlie. Not unless you wanted to be mated- hah!”

Well…

You pushed your quivering thighs together. You’d hate to admit that in the privacy of your room last night, listening to Toji grow so desperate, listening to him say your name like that…you’d actually reached for your heat toys about once or twice.

You’d never felt this way about a bull before- hell, you’d never felt this way about anyone before.

And it was such a strange sensation to be glidin’ up the buzzin’ tip of your vibrator to your clit, massaging that sweet lil’ nub without the carnal pangs of your heat. Just the carnal pangs of…pure need-

“Besides.” Shiu’s cutting through your lecherous memory, and you hope the evidence of your lewd acts don’t show on your face. He gently pats at your head, the way he’s done so many times before. “You don’t need to be mounted by such a big, bad bull. My poor girl.”

“I don’t?” You mutter to yourself.

And Shiu doesn’t seem to catch on, “After all, it’s not like you’re in heat.”

No…you suppose not.

But you can’t help but raise your face into the saturated atmosphere, seemingly so balmy and languid ever since Toji stepped foot onto the farm. And there, you can smell the most addictive scent- fuck, something that just made your core twitch with need.

“Feeling alright, my girl?” Shiu looks on at the way you shiver, and whatever he sees there makes him lead you back to your place within the barn. “Hm, maybe you should get some rest- it’s probably that bull’s pheromones messing you up.”

“M-messing me up?” You’re asking, your entire body feeling set alight. Though, you didn’t feel the slightest bit messed up.

“Mhm- since you’re unmated, just coming off an unsuccessful heat. But it’s alright-” Shiu reassures, starting to shut your door, and there’s a meaningful look in his eyes. “We can try again next year, I have a few other bulls in mind that you might like to mate with. And he won’t be getting anywhere near you until then.”

“He won’t…”

Shiu continues, “Besides, Kusakabe will be picking him up tomorrow, so you have absolutely nothing to worry about.”

You don’t say anything, but you know that you aren’t worried. Not even the slightest bit.

In fact…your body wished he’d be here even longer.

But ah- if he was just going to be taken away tomorrow, then what was the use in wanting? As your wooden door slams shut, you’re realizing that you just might never see him again.

And, outside, Toji only rams against the pen fence even harder.

He wanted you.

He wanted you.

He wanted you.

.

.

.

The third (and final) day.

Or is it…

“What?” Shiu barks into his phone receiver, so loud that it startles every hybrid grazing in the vicinity. All of them were out, leaving the barnhouse all barren by this point - though Shiu didn’t doubt that his voice reached even you inside. And the sheer incredulousness in his tone makes even Toji look over, with a smirk that told the farmer that he was quite enjoying witnessing his distress. But Shiu paid no mind to that.

He couldn’t.

Right now, he was much more frazzled by the words that had the utter fuckin’ audacity to sheepishly leave Kusakabe’s mouth on the other end of the line. Almost in a trance, Shiu pinches the bridge of his nose and repeats. “So…you’re telling me…” Each word tremored with the sheer effort that it took to keep the rage out of them, “That you want me…to come…”

“All the way to Tokyo to help me fix up my engine and save me from being stranded? Yes.” Kusakabe’s voice finishes off, “Shiu, my oldest friend, my dearest pal, have I ever told you how much I love y-”

“Atsuya Kusakabe I will kill you.”

Toji snorts out in laughter, and Shiu is suddenly reminded that he’d been in the middle of fixing up just one more lock to the bull’s pen when he’d gotten the call. Gate held ajar for now. Padlocks unlocked as he fixed them on. 

Glaring at the hybrid for the interruption, Shiu’s pinching the pen closed as he grumbles. “And you need me - you can’t just go to one of the many, many, many mechanics in Tokyo - because why exactly?”

“Aww, don’t be like that, Shiu!” Kusakabe cries out, “Do you have any idea how expensive Tokyo is? I just bought a cute lil’ pastry before the convention, and it bankrupted me for generations!”

“And you don’t have any other friends that are closer?”

“Man, if I had any other friends, period, do you think I’d be calling you?”

Shiu supposed that was a fair enough statement. “But- but I can’t leave…” He clicks his tongue, “Just get a train then! Leave that pile of junk at some trash site where it belongs-”

“I mean, I could…” And though Kusakabe’s tone was one of curious innocence, he’d long since learned that nothing ever boded well for him when he used it. He waits with bated breath until the other man continues- “-but that just means I’ll have to leave my truck - including my cattle trailer, which I use to transport my cattle - here. And you know what else that means I’ll have to leave?”

Shiu shivers, “Wh-what?”

“Toj-”

“I’ll be there right now.”

Kusakabe cackles, “Take your tiiime~!” And soon enough, the sharp tone of the call being ended reaches Shiu’s ears.

With one last semi-glare thrown in Toji’s direction, the farmer is speed-walking to his own truck - all those tools Kusakabe needed still inside from his last fix-up. More like running. More like sprinting to save his friend.

Not because he wanted to save his friend, of course. But because every second that Kusakabe was stuck in Tokyo, was a second even longer that you were stuck with Toji on this farm.

All alone.

And he couldn’t have rushed out of here more determined.

More hasty.

More careless-

“Well, would ya look at that.” Toji’s scarred lips twitch upwards into a grin. And he’s reaching one of his beefy arms out to lightly - just lightly - nudge at the wooden gate of his enclosure. Watching as it swings wiiiiiiide open—creeeeak! Bearing the rest of the farm to him with welcome arms. “What a sweet little gift f’me.”

All those pesky padlocks and ties, carefully added over the last few days, were useless if some silly lil’ farmer ever forgot to lock them.

Toji takes such delight in taking that first step out of his enclosure, broad pecs heaving as he takes in the candied trail of scent left all over by a certain pretty cow hybrid. You.

He then takes a second step, a third, a fourth—

And he knows exactly where he’s heading to - the barn.

Where you were just settling in for the day, your feverish body settling atop a particularly soft, tangled mass of golden hay. Cuddling in. You’d heard Shiu’s truck take off, though it would be out-of-character for him to leave so suddenly. You weren’t sure what to think, and you were just about to nod off when…

Creak-creak-creeeeeak—!

The barn door opens.

Shiu? Fluttering open your eyes, you’re just about to raise your head and ask him what all the yelling and commotion was, when-

Oh.

Oh.

That wasn’t the farmer at all.

Toji’s large, sculptured figure takes up nearly the entire door frame. And even from here you can see his sultry grin, his agitated hips. You can smell his intense drunken pheromones—“Room for two, sweetcheeks?”

.

.

.

“I’m- hah, sensitive there…” You’re pouting as Toji relentlessly tugs you by your stubby horns towards him. His overlarge hand plastered to the back of your scalp and guided you down between his meaty thighs - not only had he kissed you silly by this point, but the hybrid had you drenched and quivering all over the hay for more.

But first…

Your watery eyes bulge as you take in the sheer length between Toji’s legs - inches upon inches, throb after throb, all looooong and rock-hard with need. His erection stood right up to graze his navel with glittery drops of precum.

Decorated with so many puffy veins down his shaft that your cunt twitched just imagining how he’d feel inside of you.

Each one pulsated as Toji drip-drip-dripped in gooey sap down his cock, all ready to pierce your hot sex. Heavy balls tightening with even more, with the urge to breed. And you’d do well to remember that bull hybrids in particular were known for having absolutely massive cocks-

“What’cha thinking about, sweet girl?” Toji hums, the point of that nickname proven when he takes a deep, heaving gasp of the pheromone-saturated air. 

Before you can answer, one of his hands slither down to grip that heavy cock of his. Right ‘round the fat hilt where he can move his long length to smack! down between your half-parted lips. Using just the globular tip of his cock, he’s smearin’ apart your maw and just glossing over it with his creamy pre. “You’re not thinking of tapping out already, huh? You’re not…scared are you?”

There’s a slight mocking hint in his tone, nevertheless you’re shaking your head fervently. 

He snickers, “That’s right. You don’t care what that stupid farmer of yours has to say, hm?” And oh—Toji has to stop himself from simply stuffing every inch inside your mouth already, instead wetting your lips enough so that he can sliiiiide in. “You’re not really such a good lil’ hybrid like he says- huh?”

“No-” You’re hiccuping out, “Not at- mmpf.” 

Only for big, bad Toji to rut his cock against your mouth. Shutting you up with his flared tip, you can taste the pure arousal seeping into your mouth.

All warm n’ wet on top of your tastebuds—you’re drooling around his thick tip before you even know it.

“No, because you’re a baaaaad girl, aren’t ya?” He’s tutting, swiping away the splatters of saliva that just kept on leaking from the edges of your mouth- and instead, he’s reeling back to replace it with a jetstream of his own spittle. Straight onto the middle of your tastebuds.

With a second hand tugging open your mouth, Toji takes a nice look at that gluey wad sitting on your tongue- before he’s plunging his rude cock right back in between your lips. “Because you’re- haaaaah, careful, careful, no teeth- because you’re my good girl, aren’t ya?” Staring at you with half-lidded green eyes, “Allllll mine.”

“Mmmpf—” You’re muffling out around his raw girth, Toji was just so big that your maw was constantly open in this lecherous ‘oh’ shape.

Gobbling his veiny inches up even deeper and deeper, you’re only growing wetter at the way that his bawling divot scrapes down the roof of your mouth. Swervin’ left and right, and reaching for that cute lil’ dangly thing at the back of your throat-

“Ever taken a bull’s cock before?”

Choking at the lodgement in your throat, “N-no—”

“Yeah? Thought so. Ever taken anyone before?”

Shaking your head.

“Well then, she’s taking me so- hah, well.” Toji’s crooning out from above you, fucking his hips in sloppy half-thrusts inside your mouth. That rough line of his happy trail ends up scratching the tip of your nose, and you find that his intoxicating scent only grows stronger the closer you get…“Haven’t you had breakfast today, sweetcheeks?”

With tearful eyes, you’re looking up at him in confusion. “Mmm—ngh.”

“Ah ah- flick your tongue at my tip if you wanna say ‘no’—oh, just like that.” And then his mean, scarred lips end up formulating a mocking pout. “Such a cute tongue, can’t believe she’s gone hungry for so long- ngh.”

“I-” Tears stream down both your cheeks, and you’re panting out through each thrust of his achin’ cock. “Fuck, Toji, you’re just so big-”

Other hand pushing on the back of your clammy head, deeper n’ deeper. His superhuman strength was just incredible- “And look, she’s just become so greedy.” As if he wasn’t the one tunneling every spot inside your mouth, spotting it with his pre. “Don’t you know you don’t have to take any more, sweet girl, don’t you- oh—” Toji accurately hits the back of your throat, a direct thud! of his globular cockhead. He grins, watching you salivate around his cock- “-oh, fine, if you insist…”

“You’re- hck!” And the fact of the matter was that he hadn’t even fully bottomed-out yet. Criss-crossing your eyes, you spot that you had even more inches to go- “You’re so ngh-”

“And you want me to bruise the back of your- oh, throat, you say?” Toji’s cutting you off with his mean grunts, smack after smack of his heavy balls. 

They graze the front of your chin and make you feel such carnal pangs, your cunt grinding back against your heels. “I didn’t even- oh.” But too late - his geysering divot was already bruising away back there. 

Push after push.

Probe after probe.

Until Toji’s shaft had stirred up every single hidden spot inside of you, and he was swelling up even more like he wanted more, more, more—

“Toji-” Your nails claw down the pale expanse of Toji’s thighs, just so plush rippling underneath your touch. “Toji I want-”

“Ohoooo?” His raven brows raise in amusement, a mean grin spreading across his face. “The good girl is making demands now, hm?” As you whimper away, he’s thrashin’ at the back of your throat- again and again. “I guess I can’t just keep listening to her, huh?”

Her? Who…oh. 

He was talking about your thoroughly damp pussy, with the sappiest noises leaving you each time you’re pushing back on your heels. Soaked with desire.

And Toji seems amused by your shocked reaction, “How cute…go on then, sweetcheeks. Go on. Lemme know what that cute lil’ heart of yours desires.”

You’re pulling back from his red, glistenin’ tip with a lecherous pwah! “I-I want…” You’re sobbing, lashes fluttering in a way that makes- oh, you won’t be mad if he told you he was getting even harder now, would you? “-I want to feel you, Toji.”

To feel him?

To feel him?

His hazy peripherals snap down to see the way you were eyeing his long, long length. And then he’s realizing - oh, you wanted to feel him inside, did you?

Inside…fuck.

Your eyes damn near bulge out of your skull at the way that Toji’s rock-hard length only seemed to grow even…bigger at your words. Flaring up until he was red-hot at the tip, all slicked with a glaze of saliva and pre.

Toji smacks his painfully hard shaft down once more at your maw, “What dirty, dirty words- and from such a good girl?” He scoffs.

And just as you’re about to explain yourself, you’re suddenly feeling near whiplash at the way that Toji grabs onto your throat and flips the two of you around. Hoisting. Manhandling. Ending up with his back against the floor, head against the hay, and your naked cunt drivelling right above him. 

So wet and pretty.

Toji’s mouth waters at the sight of your damp, glistening hole. And he can’t help but immediately reach one hand over to thumb apart your puffy pussylips, pressin’ apart your folds and spitting straight into your hole.

“Or were they words from her, hm?” Toji’s gruffly snickering, flopping that wide tongue of his out to catch your droplets of slick. “Talking out of that pussy, hah- you’re even dirtier than I thought, sweetcheeks.”

Your thighs ache as they hover, slightly chasing the warmth of his mouth. “M’n-not dirty! I just wanted to feel you…” Casting a longing look behind at his throbbing length-

“As if. And you can have my cock-” You look up hopefully at his answer, how cute—you couldn’t even properly fit his cock inside your mouth, and now you think you could fit him inside your cunt? “-but first I’ve gotta stretch this dirty girl ouuuuut.”

“But, I can take- hngh!”

As if. Before you know it, Toji’s slithering his long, looooong tastebuds inside your cunt with absolutely no warning, no hesitation.

Just the ridged texture of his muscle slithering inside, and you’re quivering at the sheer size of him. And he feels the tightness of your circular innards and grins- “Woah…” Just a single taste of you, and his pheromones are blasting out in pure need. “Don’t you know that you hafta stretch ‘er out first, hm? What- never done this before?”

Gingerly, you shake your head ‘no’.

“Oh- reeeeeally.” Just pryin’ aside your folds, you were so fucking wet that that honeyed slick splashes down onto his face like a puddle. Toji rolls his eyes, “I would’ve never thought.” 

You huff n’ puff atop him, “Don’t- don’t tease, Toji-”

“Why, m’not teasing..” He’s spitting on your cunt yet again, letting the dewy excess trickle back down into his throat. “I already know that this pretty pussy hasn’t been satisfied like she deserves. I can fucking taste it-” Tunneling back in again. “Can hear it.” The most lecherous slurps echoing in your ears as he does, the bull’s ears flick your way to listen to it. “She wants only me- heh, wants me to be her first, doesn’t she?” 

Slurp-slurp-sluuuuurping as he’s rovering his tongue, somehow contracting it and extracting it in a way that massages your velvety walls.

Again and again.

“All you hafta do is sit there- all pretty, and take it.” Toji croons, and something dark glints within that gaze of his as he catches your lost expression. “What? That dear farmer of yours never taught you how to take it like a good girl when yer being eaten out.”

“N-no-”

“Then let me teach you—” Oh, you knew he didn’t bode well by the way that he said it. You knew it. 

And in a split-second, Toji has one hand plastered at your hip, and the other veering upwards to smack! down on your swollen pussy. “Ah ah-” As you buck, that hold he has on you grows numbing, and you’re sure he’s leaving nail marks there for weeks. “Toji’s first rule- don’t run.”

“I won’t—” You’re swallowing your words back just as soon as you say them, because just then- two of his rovering fingertips intrude their way inside your cunt.

Not even waiting for you to get used to him, not even faltering as you squeeeeeeze.

He’s straightly stuffing two of them inside your snug channel, the bulbous ends of Toji’s digits digging into each of your hidden spots without even trying. Turning them over. Pushing into every nook n’ cranny n’ crevice over and over- “Oh my god-” Bellowing out, your body starts to move back and forth against him - as if it didn’t know whether you wanted to bounce down or run away- “Toji, I’ve never felt something like this- ngh.”

Only for a loud smack! to ring out against your wet pussylips once again, and for Toji to haul you back onto his mouth with his beefy arm. “What’d I say about rule number- hah, one, hm? Silly girl.”

He was stopping you from running from it.

He was looping one of his thick, beefy biceps ‘round your waist, stopping you from moving away from his open-mouthed kisses. “Good.” Pulling you in so close that his golden nose ring presses frigidly against your clit and makes you flinch. “Atta girl- atta, sweet girl.” Toji smirks against your cunt, once you try squirming your hips and find that you can’t move even a single inch. “Now squeeeeeze those pretty legs around, I don’t care if I fucking suffocate, use me, sweetness- that’s the second rule.”

“Like- like this?” You ask, your whiny pitch trembling just as much as your legs were by now. Feebly, they attempt to straddle Toji’s head properly. 

To which it almost looks as if the bull hybrid was about to laugh—“No.”

Numerous more spanks of his fingertips on your cunt, and soon enough you’re finding yourself completely limb atop him. As he fingers you to tears, rotund fingertips scouring all the way to your cute cervix-

“I mean-” From your hips, his hand is then moving to your thighs. Wrapping around them to squeeze and squeeze and squeeze- until Toji felt light-headed. “-like this.”

“I think m’d-doing it.” You’re gyrating atop him wildly by now, finding a staccato in time with his thudding! fingers. Not only were they thick, they were just so long too - and they left you feeling dizzy with his vulgar strokes, with his incredible scent.  

“Third rule, fuck back into me.” He commands, with that specific tone of a bull in rut that made you want to listen to him immediately. Your hamstrings screamed in protest as you continue, “Fuck her back into me- harder now, aren’t you a cow hybrid? Buck.”

You could barely even believe your ears, “You’re just so fucking mean- fuck!”

“Yeah, yeah, just like that.”

And Toji’s tongue? Oh, he wasn’t just staying still - not at all.

Toji had his tongue wrapped ‘round your throbbing clit and spanking down with his tastebuds. “And the fourth and final rule-” He gurgles through the wettened wads you were seeping out,  “-is to get ready.”

You’re blinking your teary eyes back open, looking down at him in shock. “Get ready for what?”

It takes a few more probin’ thrusts before he can bear to pull away- and that, too, with the loudest smooch! The bull hybrid’s pants come out in heaving gusts, scalding air making you quiver at the sensation.

“Get ready…” Toji rattles off, after a few sultry seconds. And oh- you wonder, why was his tone octaves higher? Why did he sound so breathy? Why was there something…crazed in the way he said it- “-because you think a bull hybrid in rut would really be this nice, sweetcheeks?”

Jaw dropping, “Oh-”

“You don’t know how painful it was to hold myself back-”

And before you know it, your spine’s arching as you struggle to accommodate him- struggling to handle the raw primal pressure of his thick tongue and two- three of his fingers plunging into your hole. Pushing and pushing and pushing—

You’ve become masterful at rule number three, it seems, as you’re pressing your thighs upon either side of Toji’s face until he groans. 

All of his appendages just reaching all the way for the very back of your cunt—“Ohhh, please-” Your head throws backwards as you feel him fuck you with his tongue like he was trying to ruin your inexperienced pussy. “P-please-”

“Oh m’ having a pleasant time alright.” Toji snickers, his heated pants leaving your skin perspired. The mountains of his knuckles were striking your outer pussy so hard now that they were starting to grow red on his skin. “S’fuh-fucking sweet.” Stinging.

Plap! after plap! You’re moaning as his mouth unhinges undeniably deeper to let even more of his tongue’s inches inside. Stretchin’ out your cute orifice, “Gonna hafta stretch her at least twice- haaah- twice as fuck! much if you wanna fit my cock, sweet girl.”

“Twice as much…” You’re repeating breathlessly, you couldn’t even begin to imagine it. It already felt like Toji was pulling you to your very limits - so even more…

“Rule number five- just made it up, heh.” Toji spits out - literally, a glittering glob of spittle that sticks to your slit. It slides down to your hold and makes it easy for him to thrash his tongue inside like an animal- like he was frenzied by his pheromones, like he couldn’t control himself from push-push-pushing.

Not even at a controlled cadence- Toji couldn’t stop himself from squishing your sweetest spots at the very back of your cunt. In almost no time, he’s finding that cute lil’ heart-shaped g-spot of yours - and Toji’s fingertips and tongue were fighting over which one gets to press on it the most.

Again and again until you’re in actual tears- “Rule number five is- ngh, you have to take it.” Holding you to him, until your cunt folds were plastered against his puffy lips. “Take it all like my good girl if you wanna finally take my cock.”

“Please-” Being pummelled away to the maximum, it’s all you can say like a constant mantra. “Please please- ngh! Please-”

“That’s all that dirty mouth can say now?” Toji tuts, “Tch- what happened to wanting me inside? Wanting my cock? Wanting to be fucked like the slut you secretly are?”

Primal swabs, again and again.

Twofold.

After each word, Toji’s tongue sizzles against your tender pussy - lips glued so deeply against your folds, that you can feel him lappin’ away every ounce of your slickness.

It drips slightly down his chin, and leaves your cunt slipping on top of Toji’s handsome face. You grab onto his large horns with a yelp- “Oh! Fuck, Toji- did I really say that?”

“Of course you did- hah, gallop, sweethearts.” With yet another spank, he rovers his face even deeper between your trembly legs. Nose-deep. Skin-deep. So deep, in fact, that the veins on Toji’s sculptured neck pop out.

You’re unsteadily bucking against him on instinct, and that leaves the man groaning. “Just like that.” Swallowing up every inch of your outer cunt, you’re being pierced by the relentless ministrations of his tongue again and again—“You asked to be fucked like a slut- hngh, and that’s exactly what m’giving you. Aren’t I just the beeest mating partner, sweetcheeks?”

“But I didn’t-” You’re babbling out, drunk on the vicious scrape-scrape-scrape of his intrusions. His fingers pushed just as your g-spot, and you could feel him glissading down even deeper. Deeper. Deeper. “-I didn’t say that—”

“Oh, didn’t you?” He’s hazily looking up from between your legs - there was something bleary in his eyes, something gone. “I think I remember-”

“Well I don’t-” As you’re raising your voice, you can’t believe it- Toji’s powerful tail wraps around your thighs and drags you back down.

He rumbles, “Rule number one…” In warning.

And it’s only with a few more thuds! that Toji’s pretending to remember just what you’re whinin’ away about, his dark brows shooting up to his bangs. And you can feel your treacly cunt quiver with the vibrations of his laughter, “But ah- I remember now.” His eyes crinkle into slits of amusement, eating you out until his nose ring slicks with your syrup. Just the notion is enough to leave his pheromones heightening, “I believe you said…‘you wanted to feel me’.”

Mouth dropping in recognition, “Oh- I did.”

“And what did you mean by that, hm?” Toji speaks through the ringing slurps, zap after zap of pleasure. “You’re already feeling me here-” Pokin’ at your g-spot, “And here-” His tongue snakes out to suck on your clit once more. 

“I just meant I wanted to feel you- hck!”

His sweaty brows furrow, “But yer already feeling me-”

“No- more like I wanted to feel your-” You’ve never spoken words like this before, not even in the throes of your worst heats. You glance back at his twitching erection, “-there.”

“My where?”

“Your- your cock, Toji!” You’re wailing out, your legs feeling numb at the way he strikes your sweetest bundle of nerves. “I wanna feel your thick, looooong cock- please.”

Oh, you really were such a dirty girl. He’s gnawing down on that nub of your clit, “And where do you wanna feel my thick- looooong- cock, hm?”

You’re stammering, mouth growing less in-your-control the longer he’s making a mess of your poor pussy. “Inside-”

“Inside where?”

“Inside my cunt-” And you’re shocked you manage that out without stumbling over your words, gryatin’ back into his open maw with sly figure eights. But even that wasn’t enough—

Toji rolls his eyes, such a mess. Such a shattered mess. Just pushing and tasting and lavishing his tongue all over- “Say it again-” When you’re repeating your sultry words, “More- dirtier. Be good f’me, girl, say it again-”

“I want your cock inside my cunt, Toji.” You’re whimpering out, you’re shaking. Feeling the inexperience bubble within each of your veins, because the hybrid was just having so much fun corrupting you. “I want it inside- want you to fuck me with that cock so badly-”

“Atta girl.”

Forcing you to say those lecherous words, forcing you to cum—

“Oh my god-” With your back arched, you’re throwing your body into the wave of pleasure that suddenly bursts inside your body. “C-cumming- I’m cumming, Toji-”

“And it’s all because of me.” He’s smugly saying, perfectly puncturing at your g-spot with his constant pushes. 

Because of Toji’s rut, his senses were so honed that he could mark each peak of your high- the explosion of bliss that he pinpointed with his fingers, with the slashes of his tongue. “Heh- me.” With a wet chuckle, Toji’s tongue was going to lick up every inch of your pussy like he was frenzied. Couldn’t get enough. Lap after lap. “Me me me me-” He sucks on your clit, letting his canines nibble lightly on them, and it lets out the most lewd sluuuuurp. “-and look- she’s thanking me.”

“Fuck! Never felt something so good-” Whining out, you’re bouncing your back into each of his hits. “-might be the best orgasm I’ve ever had- hck!”

“S’a pleasure, sweet girl.”

By the time the best of your high bates, Toji still hasn’t let up between those syrupy legs of yours. When he’s licked up every droplet of sap you’re letting out, he’s moving over to lick at the sheen of slick glued to your thighs. 

Again and again.

Until you’re all the way overstimulated, and tears start to drip as if from a faucet. “I th-think m’done, Toji.” As if he already didn’t know - you’re pushing at his clammy head. “My orgasm’s over, I wanna try taking your cock now-”

“And you’re sure?”

He wasn’t asking to be nice. He was asking to make you turn your head and balk at the way his impossible size had only seemed to grow even bigger. Your lips wobbling, “Y-yes.”

“Oho?” Dark brows raising, he stops his ministrations and moves both hands to now grip at your waist. “Well, you did tell me to put my ‘thick, looooong cock inside of your cunt’-”

“So shut up and do it.” Huffing in embarrassment, you pound at his muscular chest - and he could barely even feel it, like kitten kisses on his bulky body. It’s enough for Toji’s cock to jolt with need, and for his attractive face to break out into a grin.

“Atta girl.”

And with that final compliment, Toji’s making to grab onto your waist and lift you off of his face—with the loudest smooch! It’s ringing out like the prettiest melody in both your eardrums, and Toji just barely manages to disconnect himself with your sweet pussy.

Just barely breaks his lips from your tender folds, all slickly glossed.

Just barely wrenches you off with ease, and takes one nice look at your hole - when you’re realizing that Toji Fushiguro suddenly stops. His nostrils suddenly flare. He suddenly stutters-

“O-oh, sweet girl. I don’t think you even realize-” Toji gawks up at your cunt. And you’re feeling somewhat shy when he filthily leans his features in and takes a good, long sniff at your cunt. As you’re looking up at him in confusion, “-you’re in heat.”

“In heat?” He sets you down near his rugged v-line, and you’re animalistically grinding your cunt down on his thickened length. You look up at him for answers, “What do you mean? Shiu said I’ve already finished my heat-”

“Fuck what Shiu says, silly girl.” Lightly spanking your pussy, Toji rolls his sage eyes. His pupils were all blown-out and bleary with lust, only darkening the more he takes in your buttery pheromones. 

Oh, you smelled like the sweetest freshly-whipped cream - and that only made his mouth water as much as his swollen cock was. Drenching the cute innards of your thighs n’ your pussy mound with his sap, he grins. “I can smell it.” He parts his scarred lips, a thin line of saliva trickling down one side. “I can fucking- taste it-”

“Oh—” You’re gyratin’ back against his plummy cock tip, oh-so-lewdly. And you take another sniff of yourself, reaching up to feel that your scent glands have swollen up. “I g-guess you’re right-”

“Sugar, I am right.”

Before you know it, the world’s a blur around you- and suddenly you find your back against the soft hay. Your head being cushioned by one of Toji’s rugged palms, Toji’s large body hovering over you. Pressing you down-

“And this pretty pussy’s tellin’ me that this is yer first heat with a bull, hm?” Sliding his thumb between your glossy crevice, he listens for the squelches. “Awww, how cute—so m’your first, sweet girl?”

“Yes- yes.” And when he places his fleshy cock between your legs, at that sweet spot where you wanted him the most, you can’t help but realize that oh- he’d been stretching you out for so long for a good reason.

Because Toji’s hybrid cock looked absolutely ginormous between your legs, especially with the way he’d thickened up in size while eating you out. His cockhead was as red as a huge strawberry, and multiple times bigger. Bull hybrids, famed for the shaft length - now slipping n’ sliding between your pussylips.

Just kissing at your geysering orifice- “Oh- fuck.”

“And you know having you on top would be the easiest for her…” That said, he’s swatting his rough fingertips down on the nub of your clit. He’s spitting. He growls, and it’s enough to send shivers down your spine- “But m’still gonna have her in a mating press.” Throwing your legs over his shoulders, folding you damn in half. “Because you also forget one- fuck-” Just feeling you clench around nothing, enough to make him reach up and grab at a wooden beam. “-thing, sweetness.”

“And what’s that, Toji?”

“I’m in-” Hard enough that the wooden beam breaks—“-rut.”

Fourth rule, remember?

Because you didn’t think that he’d go this easy on you when he’s in fuckin’ rut, did you? You didn’t think that he was going to fuck you nicely, did you? You didn’t think that he wasn’t going to act like a damn animal, did you?

In a sudden motion, Toji’s plugging your hole up with his thick cockhead- and shoving it deep into your deepest insides. Long. Hard.

You’re yelping, nails finding purchase on his deltoids and clawing on for dear life because- “A virgin, are ya?” He tuts, “Don’t think m’gonna go easy on ya.”

“Oh my goodness-” Thighs curling around his toned waist, hips attempting to buck away. “Holy fuck-”

“Easy, easy.” It was just so cute the way you were struggling - especially when you were talking so big about wanting him. “Breathe in, girl- there ya go.”  You’re following as he instructs, “Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in—” And suddenly there’s a sodden spank at your pussy, “-you, too, pretty pussy.”

Something that catches you off-guard, and makes you swallow him up an inch deeper. Your eyes rolling all the way to the back of your skull, “Fuck fuck fuck fuck- I’ve never felt like this. You’re so big- hold on, Toji, you’re so-”

“Hold on?” 

“What-”

“Hold on?”

He’s then spitting out into your open mouth, and slapping your pussy so hard that you’re seeing stars. Instantly, you’re set on edge by the way that his rugged cock suddenly slams- “You’re telling me to h-hold on?”

And was that a stutter in his sentence?

A laugh?

Toji Fushiguro sounded like he was fucking losing it by merely hearing your whining questions- “You seriously want me to…” Clawing down in front of your body, one of his rude hands press down on your stomach as he’s sinking iiiiiiin. It makes you feel every ridge n’ vein, every inch, every bit of his thick shaft intruding in. “-hold on?”

“It’s just- I just didn’t think you’d be so big-” He was barely even halfway in and you could already feel Toji at your throat, gushing out sticky wads of slick. With your feet planted on the hay-littered ground, you’re trying to arch your back nearly away from—

“Oi- who said you could tap out?” Before you know it, Toji’s hand lifts from your thigh to grab onto your tail - one pulling you in by the tail, his right hand still feeling for that tummy bulge he was fucking into you.

You can’t get away by the way he’s manhandling you back down into his hips, skidding straight across the barnyard floor. “Tch- ya need ta be herded or what, silly girl?” Grazing his dark happy trail against your front, the curly tufts of it scratch your clit. “Come back t’me- rule number one, remember?”

“Fuck-” Throwing your head back in tears, your legs were limp from the sheer pressure being put on your lower half. “-I can feel you reaching in so deep-”

“And you wanted me to hold on?”

He was never going to let that go - he was never going to give you even the slightest second to get used to his incredible length. 

Palm pressing down on the cylindrical outline makin’ itself known on your tummy - just that big. Pelvis moving in a rapid, urgent half-thrusts-

Toji isn’t even waiting for your cunt to take it all, his red cockhead probin’ just inwards. Inwards and inwards and inwards. He can feel the tight resistance of your pussy, your sweet body unable to take him whole right now- and it only makes him groan.

With his head thrown back, he’s letting go of your tail to smear apart your pussylips. “M’in fucking rut and you wanted me to hold on-” He’s hissing, pushing your snug folds so far apart that you have no choice but to take his hammers. “Been teasing me with that s-sweet scent ever since I fucking got here and you want me to hold on-” Pulling you to him. Dragging you to him.

Toji breaks every single second that he’s not fully sheathed inside of you, and he’s just pummeling his hips deeper- “Hold on, hold on, hold on.” After each mention of his mantra, he’s rutting in. “You want me to h-hold on and-” Harder. “-and you know what-” Deeper. “-I want to do, sweet girl?”

“What-” You’re gasping out through your tears, sticking to both of your cheeks by now. “What do you want, Toji?”

“I want to- fuck! Well, first I want to fucking fit-” He’s whispering underneath his breath, darkened eyes narrowed as he takes it in. “Fit- fit- fit-” Before you know it, he’s spitting down once more on your cunt and shoving his cockhead inside. “-fucking fit-”

Blinking away the tears in your eyes, “And- hah, and what else did you want?” By the heightening of his pheromones, you already knew that it was something about to ruin you.

“I want…” He was teasing you now, just lightly grazin’ that blushing hot tip against the roof of your cunt. You could feel him filling up every sneaky orifice, and Toji was fucking you like he’d just gone feral- “I want to-”

“Oh, fuck!”

With a final, lewd thrust- Toji Fushiguro bottoms out.

“-breed ya, sugar.”

And he meant it. The massive bull hybrid was drilling into you like a madman- his cattle nose ring clanging with each rut. “I’ve been wanting to breed you since the moment I stepped foot here.” Toji growls, the red crown of his shaft directly heading towards your cervix now. Bruising. “I want to fuck- fuck you through every day of your heat- my rut.” And he was emptying out such long strings of precum into your womb, “Try to get you pregnant every single day of my rut.”

“You’re going to get me…” Your pupils are swirlin’ in comical circles within the whites of your eyes, and just the mere notion makes your tastebuds sizzle with saliva. You hadn’t spent your heat properly with a bull- let alone found yourself mated by one.

Bred by one.

“Fucking pregnant.” Toji finishes off with a snicker, pushing against that cute lil’ tummy bulge that he was pounding into you. 

“Oh, please-” You’re throwing your head back with a mewl, “But I’ve never been m-mated to anyone before. Are we sure it’s going to take, Toji-”

“I’ll make it take.”

His jackhammers were so hard by this point, enough so that your sap splatters out of you in puddles. It glistens right down the inner parts of your thighs, and Toji swipes his thumb down from your pussy to glaze it in the syrup. To reach up to his scarred maw and suck on it.

And when he feels your spit-slicked lips start to wobble out more concerns, he’s pushing that very thumb between your own lips.

“Shut it, silly girl. Ya really think that when I hah- when I fuck you like this—in this mating press.” As if on cue, his manhandling strength seems to be folding you even deeper in half. “With this pretty pussy-” Dragging out a few more slurps with his thrusts, “-and my rut- you’re not gonna be walking outta this barn stupidly pregnant?”

“I-I don’t-”

“Silly, silly girl.” It’s a rude thwack! of his curvaceous ball sack after each slam, and you can feel your body grow more restless after each of his spat-out words. So mean. “Silly lil’ hybrid thinks she’s gonna make it outta here- hah, without bearing my calves.”

You’re shivering, your body so limply fucked by this point- that Toji’s tail has to wrap around one of your thighs. Holding you up. Interlocking your ankles around his neck with that silky tail- “Well, since m’inexperienced-”

“And m’gonna give you the experience of yer life- heh, I already am.” 

He was - he really was. Just making you see stars every time Toji’s overlarge, plump cockhead dug into your g-spot. Somehow he’d managed to map the insides of your walls, and each thrust grazed his length against your sweet bundle of nerves. 

Probing and probing a bruise exactly the size of his round circumference- “M’gonna corrupt you, sweet lil’ thing.” A sleazy smile spreads across Toji’s handsome, perspired face. “M’gonna fill you up with so much of my cum that- hah, they’re gonna be milkin’ it out of you for months afterwards, sweet girl.”

“Fuck, I’d like that-”

“Oh yeah?”

“I’d like that s-shoooo much, Toji.” 

“Bet you’d like it even more after I fill you up with my calves, hm?” He titters, pheromones slowly growing saturated enough to mingle with your own. “After I fuck this pretty pussy pregnant ‘nough times that she remembers how it feels when I fill you up? After I breed you until we can- hah, fill this whole damn farm with them? After I make a momma out of you and no other bull can ever even think of touching you-”

You squeal, “Yes- yes yes yes yes-”

His tail tightens around your ankles, horns charging as if he was only growing more n’ more excited. Throbbing with more need. “And you better fuckin’ know that these are promises, sweetness. That no fucking farmer can ever break.” Toji stares you deep in your heart-shaped eyes as he says, “I will get you pregnant.”

“Oh, I’d fucking hope so.” You glide your hands down your front, “I wanna feel you right h-here, Toji.” Down where your womb was.

Fuck…you were dangerous for a bull in heat.

And his entire body feels feverish with need, the burning sensation of his rut overtaking Toji completely. 

As his hips only grow sloppier, you’re grazing your sweaty palms further down his body. Starting from his shoulders, before ultimately you end up squeezing Toji’s massive milky pecs.

Even for a bull, they were just so plush. And you can’t help but twiddle your thumbs ‘round the golden rings that he had pierced through his pinkish nipples, lecherously.

He shivers at the sensitive sensation, “O-oh? Look at you.” Snapping his head down, you swear you could see a rouge flush take over his cheekbones. “You’re corrupted already.” And both of Toji’s own hands end up removing from your stomach and your pussy, ending up- oh, you could’ve already guessed.

Both of Toji’s hands end up on your tits.

Squeezing.

Kneading.

Before you can say a word, he’s already growling out- “And as any momma would- we’re gonna hafta make sure you’re making enough milk, huh, sweetcheeks?” That last bit of his sentence ends up drowned between the valley of your chest.

Toji’s gaping his maw wide open and sucking on your right tit, his left hand pinching the nipples of your left tit.

“I don’t think anything’s gonna come out just yet-” Your tail swishes in arousal as you watch him hollow out his attractive cheeks, thoroughly sucking on your tit like his favorite lolly. Sucking like he was trying to make milk come out—“I never did produce…much…milk…”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you’re being proved wrong. Because with a gushing sensation, you can feel your hardened nipples stream out something straight into Toji’s open mouth. “You were saying?” 

Pure white milk.

And he was such a messy eater, your ivory syrup dripping down his lips. It glosses them and created the sweetest lacquer that Toji himself was addicted to- “Mmm, so much, sweet thing—fuck.” He’s pinching at your left tit, too, a splashin’ puddle of milk that he immediately plops his mouth over to gulp up. “Ya really are a sweet thing-”

“I’ve never made this much even for the farmer-” You’re gasping, and your milk cascades down Toji’s chin like a waterfall. Constant. Sloppy “How did you even…”

“Because you’re in heat.” He says- choppy, through the way that he barely wanted to speak, barely wanted to remove himself from the sweet fountains of your spurting milk. “Because m’in rut.” Toji’s hips smack into yours so hard that you see white for a second, and his happy trail perfectly carnally itches at your clit. “And tonight- we’re gonna make a fucking baby, sweet mama.”

“O-oh—” With your voice cracking, you’re reaching your high. It comes instantaneously, and you arch into Toji’s glissading muscles as you ride through it.

As you’re fucked through it.

“Cumming again?” Toji’s marvelling, his words thick - he had his mouth full, after all. Smelling the saccharine sweetness of your orgasm in your pheromones, he’s marking each peak of your high with a bang! of his reddened cockhead. 

Slowly opening up your womb even more, your g-spot felt so red-hot and raw from the inside as he just kept on thumpin’ away there. Again and again and again. “Of course, ya are- fuck. Just like thaaaat, fuck back into me- third rule. They say the momma needs to cum good if we wanna get you pregnant after all-”

“And what about you?” Still in the throes of your bliss, you feel absolutely no inhibitions in babbling away. Drunk on the thick, veiny size of him fucking you through your high—“Aren’t you gonna?”

“Gonna what?”

“Fuck…”

“Rule number six-” Toji pipes up, a mean glint in his eyes. “-is to use those words like the big girl you are.”

And you best believe that he was fucking you like he was trying to push the very words up to your throat, his veins massaging your sweet spots and making you shiver, his pearly white teeth back to sucking on your milk. “I want- hah!” You wince when his right hand slithers down to pinch your clit, “-you to cum- fuck.” You moan when his left keeps toyin’ with your nipples, streaming out dairy for Toji to swallow up. “-inside my cunt, Toji.”

And there—his eyes slightly widen in interest, “You really said it.” A proud smile gracing his face, “You really, really…oh.”

With a few more lewd thrusts, he’s emptying out his heavy balls. 

They tighten as they spurt out the creamiest wads of cum waaaaaay back into your spongy womb, suckin’ up each pearly droplet as Toji fucks them inside you. Splashing out. Pooling out. That bawling divot in the middle of his shaft just leaves a murky mess behind, ribbons of ivory that glue your walls together.

“Oh fuck-” He’s clenching his canines, you swear he’s holding back tears—“And you’re gonna take it-” Toji snarls, fighting against the urge to throw his head back - simply because he wanted to look at you as he stuffed you till you were overspilling. “-take every single last drop-”

The hulking bull hybrid shakes as you clench your velvety walls. “Oh, yes.” You’re shivering once he smacks! your clit once more, swirlin’ those sultry webs of seed with his fingertips.

Toji’s pushing them inwards, again and again. “And yer gonna keep it, aren’t you?” Fucking you, again and again. 

He hums, gluing the edges of his fingers inside your channel, so that not a single gumdrop can leak out of you. “Second rule, sweetness, squeeze those pretty legs. S’gonna tell that pussy to keep my cum inside- give me a lil’ calf, heh.”

“Shit- keep talking and I’ll…”

It’s too late for you. You’re so far gone on his pummeling length that with a few more strokes, you’re reaching your high once more.

White-hot.

Toes curling.

Back arching.

You can’t even control yourself, it’s the most powerfully sinful sensation you’ve felt in your entire life. And this time, not only are you overspilling in Toji’s glutinous white cum - you’re also spraying out your own slick. Translucent splashes of sweetness, so powerful that your entire body shakes. 

Your high was being dragged out of you.

Squirting. You can’t believe you squirted during your first heat with a mate, your first heat mounted.

And as he instinctively bucks his hips through it, your new mate swears- “Fuck- fuck, don’t tell me you’re- oh. You are. Turns out I milked you dry, hm?” Something in him oh-so-triggered by the way you just kept on drippin’ from that pretty cunt, it’s as if the hybrid part of him knew that he had to do something to stop you from losing so much of it. “Rule number four, my sweet mate.”

But no bracing in the world could prepare you for what you felt in that very moment - because suddenly you’re feeling a strength so incredible that it’s as if you’re being split apart. “Your- your knot?”

“Damn right.”

You just had to see this for yourself. Chin hitting your chest as you watch Toji push n’ push the incredibly swollen base of his cock inside you. It was so round n’ red, about four times his actual circumference. 

It sinks in with a lecherous sluuuuuurp—and Toji empties out a few more streaks of cum just from the sheer sensation of having his sensitive hilt sheathed inside of you. Isn’t that every bull’s dream? To have a mate as pretty as you, choking and overstimulated around his knot? Ready to take all of him until you’re pregnant-

“We’re mates now.” You’re still shivering from the shockwaves of your multiple highs, so overstimulated that you don’t hear his murmurs. Sobbing, you’re tugging cutely at his nipple piercings to garner his attention. “Wh-what was that, Toji?”

“I said–” Roughly, he pulls off from your lactating tits. Your milk drivels down either side of his greedy maw, “-that you know a bull’s rut lasts days, right, sweetcheeks?”

“Oh.”

“Guess we have a lot to learn…h-heh.”

.

.

.

Shiu was halfway through his drive to Tokyo.

Halfway through his window cracked down halfway, his dark hair playing in the breeze, head nodding in time with the beat of some early 2010’s pop hit that’d surprisingly managed to calm him down during his drive.

Sure, Kusakabe had completely ruined his plans and forced him to leave you unattended on the farm - but Shiu can’t help but almost feel grateful towards his friend.

After all, it’s not every day that he gets to go out like this - the life of a farmer sure was a busy one. And it was such a nice day out, driving along smooth and silent in his truck like this was almost therapeutic. He’s almost considering getting an apprentice or two so that he’d be able to do this more often. He really thinks he could find inner peace like this, maybe all those self-help magazines he grimaced at in convenience stores were onto something. A man needs time for himself, too, y’know?

Yeah, time for himself. Time to just wind back, enjoy the highway, just appreciate the beauty of the world, y’know?

Halfway through a drive of peace and quiet, when he suddenly realizes-

And Shiu’s stepping so hard on the brakes that he wouldn’t have been surprised if about five other cars smashed into him from behind right about now. And he wouldn’t have noticed, either—”I left the gate of the bull in rut fucking unlocked-”

Immediately after he remembered, Shiu had gone and done a (likely illegal, most definitely illegal) U-turn right then and there. Heading right back where he came from, he’d cut off multiple cars, almost run over some unsuspecting old lady in his haste to get back to his farm - Kusakabe be damned, his best friend could rot in Tokyo until the end of time for all he cared. After all, he was the one that caused all this!

Shiu made it back home in less than half the time it took him to halfway down his journey to Tokyo (he’s sure he ran a few red lights).

And he’s fumbling with the keys of his gates, forgetting his truck and sprinting right up to where his cattle hybrids were. All cooped up inside the pen, they hadn’t gone into the barn still - and yet, with one sweeping glance, Shiu can’t really find any missing.

So he almost dares to breathe a sigh of relief- before his eyes catch the placement where Kusakabe’s bull had resided. Where Toji resided.

And Shiu’s heart drops at the same time as his jaw.

It was empty.

Quickly, he’s suspecting just why the cows and bulls outside weren’t going inside the barn, and Shiu takes another look at his herd—fuck!! Fuck, fuck, fuck - there was one missing.

And he knew exactly who it was.

In urgent, jerky motions, Shiu’s throwing open the gate to the pen (this time double-checking to lock it behind him) and heading straight towards the barn.

The barn where he can hear the rustling of hay, where he can smell the saturated sweetness of hybrid pheromones, where he can see—oh, you on your hands and knees, with your pretty ass raised high in the air for Toji’s cock to plough into, his powerful body. You’re all sprawled out on the hay, saliva and milk splashing out of you at a constant pace. You mewled as he stretched out your cunt so mercilessly, again and again and again. The plump knot ‘round his base hitting your pussylips with almost painful thwacks! 

And by the ribbons of miry cum that clung onto both your lower halves, Shiu was safe to assume that this certainly wasn’t the first round…

Shiu’s nostrils flare, and he’s realizing that this wasn’t just the heady scent of Toji’s rut - it was your heat, too. That luscious creamy smell that made his mouth water, and his cock twitch in his pants as he took in the sight-

BZZZZZZZZ—!

Thank god his phone was on silent mode- Shiu hastens to pick it up before either of you can hear. Though, he doesn’t think he’s very successful with it.

Because just as Shiu places the crackling phone against his ear, whispering out a quiet- “H-hello?” He sees that Toji’s smug, handsome head turns in the direction of the barn door. And he’s smirking straight at the other man as he claims every inch inside of you, Toji’s honed tip pinpointing into every tiny nook and cranny. 

And if that wasn’t enough, he’s leaning down to grab onto your leaky tits- and squeeeeeze out a pure white stream of your milk. Much more than Shiu’s ever been able to tease out of you during milking sessions.

He was making his mate known.

Slowly, Shiu backs out of the barn without you noticing (though, you were so deep in the waves of your carnal pleasure, that he thinks it would’ve been impossible to get your attention anyways).

Only once he’s out of the headiness of the barn does Shiu finally manage to register the other man’s voice-

“Hello? Helloooooo? Man, where are you now-”

“Hey, Kusakabe.” Shiu speaks, still slightly dazed. Still slightly staring through the barn doors from afar - all because of a fucking gate. “Take the next train here from Tokyo- no, don’t worry about your truck, you can pick it up later. No, you don’t need the cattle trailer anymore.”

Kusakabe sputters, “Huh? But why?” At the other man’s silence, one could almost hear the moment that understanding sets in. “Oh man- oh wait, don’t tell me that Toji and that sweet cow hybrid of yours has-”

“Yeah.” Shiu grits, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Unrelated, but would you happen to know any good names for calves?”

A/N. YOU ASK AND DADDY PROVIDES (not child support tho-) YES I SAW Y’ALL IN THE COMMENTS-

Plagiarism not authorized.

[all-with-angel]

PARIS? IN THIS ECONOMY? || Series Masterlist

♯ Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader x Higurama Hiromi

Summary. As a last hail mary to save your crumbling marriage with Nanami Kento, he whisks you away to the most romantic city in the world– Paris. One final chance to remind you why you fell in love with the man you barely knew anymore. But that plan backfires when you meet Higuruma Hiromi, a much older and much more experienced divorce attorney who wouldn’t mind helping you out of your unhappy marriage.

♯ Tags. Angst angst angst, drama, Bisexual awakening for nanami kento, hurt/comfort(later), angst w happy ending, mean-ish reader, mutual pining, smut with plot, p in v, lots of cum, creampies, dom higuruma, switch nanami, sub reader, oral (f & m receiving), yes you ride the nose, light choking, cucking, praise & degredation, eiffel tower position DUH, more tba.

Credits. Art by ilameys on twt, dividers by @angeliicide

⬩➤ ꒰ Updates are once a week, every Sunday at 10 pm UTC +8 ⋮ ONGOING ꒱

CHAPTER 1 - One is cute, but two though .ᐣ

CHAPTER 2 - Kiss and make up ♡

CHAPTER 3 - WIP .ᐟ

taglist ⋮ @yagiyoshikawa @seavannahs @deartoru @valberryboos @alebrasil0101 @lusciouslysoft @realalpacorn @pusha-a @ane5e @noirsabattoir @vivivilliannn @vote4jas @liliklei @maplesurvives @namsgyu @tealoving-psycho @belovedria @junuru @nanadexth @michelleeveline @venetiandream @vanlifeblondie @man1cslut @b9nii @venusins @deadbe-ll @potat3s @twinkletfout @sunqueenz1 @everyoneluvzstrawberriess @saturnw0rld @orangethecarrotcoloredpaperred @prome911 @sanimelx @lachosita @cherrys-wrld @vadastacker @starsbymars @sakusmores @rosiesluv @lautrebye @honeyycomblea @sadlovergirlhere @julieno1lover - closed

[hypnos333]

UNFORTUNATE SUPERGIRL⭐️

obsessed sonar x hero reader

Sonar had always been intense—but with you, it was different.

Every morning you arrived at Dispatch HQ to find something on your desk:

a perfectly folded paper crane, a bright silver charm shaped like a shield, a thermos of tea labeled “For your throat. You talk too much mid-mission.”

It was strange, but harmless. Sonar didn’t speak much, so the gifts became his language.

You always thanked him politely, even if you didn’t always understand the meaning behind them.

But lately… he’d been acting off.

Constantly watching you on missions.

Appearing behind you without making a sound.

Stations changing so he’d be near you.

And the gifts… they became more personal.

A scarf in your favorite color.

A notebook with your initials carved by hand.

A hand-stitched patch with your hero symbol outlined in silver thread.

You tried to talk to him—gently—about giving you space, but Sonar only smiled a little and said:

“It’s so you’ll remember who’s always looking out for you.”

His voice was soft, but something in it made you shiver.

⸻

The Unfortunate Event

The mission that day was already risky—a raid on an underground tech lab hoarding stolen Dispatch equipment. You were leading the front team. Sonar was supposed to stay behind as comm support.

Supposed to.

Halfway through clearing the building, your earpiece filled with interference. Screeching static stabbed into your skull, making you drop to one knee.

“Sonar?” you gasped. “What are you—? Cut the frequency!”

But the static only grew worse. Your teammates were shouting your name, but you couldn’t hear them through the piercing noise.

And then… silence.

The kind that felt wrong.

You forced your eyes open and saw him.

Sonar.

Standing in the shattered doorway behind you, head tilted, expression unreadable.

“Why are you here?” you demanded, breath shaking.

He walked toward you, slow, controlled. “I told you. I’m looking out for you.”

“You nearly blew my eardrum out!”

“I know,” he said, strangely calm. “I had to disable the enemy comms. Their tech was interfering with yours.

But something was off.

Your team was nowhere in sight.

The room was too quiet.

And Sonar… wasn’t meeting your eyes.

Finally, you saw it.

Behind him—your teammates unconscious on the ground, not hurt badly, but clearly taken down.

“Sonar,” you whispered, stomach dropping. “What did you do?”

His jaw tensed. “They didn’t listen when I said you were in danger. They kept pushing you into the fight. You don’t belong on the front line.”

“Sonar—”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out another gift.

A small, velvet-wrapped box.

“It was supposed to be for after the mission,” he said, voice trembling. “Something to keep you safe forever.”

You didn’t take it.

Couldn’t.

His face cracked—hurt, panic, something darker behind his eyes.

“I did all this for you,” he whispered. “Why won’t you see that?”

————-

Aftermath

Backup arrived before things escalated.

Sonar didn’t resist when the others restrained him—almost like he’d expected it.

He only looked at you the whole time, eyes wide and desperate.

“I’m not dangerous,” he said softly as they led him away. “I just needed you to understand.”

You found the little velvet box later.

Inside was a tracking pendant—designed with Dispatch tech, coded to your exact frequency.

Something he could have used to follow you anywhere.

You closed the box slowly, chest tight.

Sonar hadn’t tried to hurt you.

But the line between devotion and obsession had snapped a long time ago… and you never saw it coming.

[hypnos333]

BEEF

Robert Robertson (Mecha man) x hero reader

Your mission was supposed to be simple: scout the abandoned warehouse, map the entrances, and report back. No fighting, no drama, no unexpected surprises.

At least, that’s what Dispatch said.

But the second you stepped out of HQ, you heard fast little footsteps behind you. You turned around, confused—only to see Beef, Robert’s giant, lovable dog, sitting proudly with his tongue out

“Beef? What are you doing?”

He looked up at you… then at the pocket of your tactical jacket.

Oh.

You’d forgotten about the beef jerky.

“Beef, no. You can’t come with me.”

Beef didn’t care. He trotted ahead of you like he was leading the mission himself.

You sighed, following after him. “Robert is gonna kill me…”

By the time you reached the warehouse, Beef was practically glued to you. Every time you took a step, he was right next to your leg, sniffing and huffing until finally you gave in and handed him a small piece of jerky.

“Fine. But then we’re going back.”

Beef happily crunched it apart, tail wagging so hard his whole body wiggled. You tried again to do your job, but Beef followed so close he might as well have been your shadow.

“Okay, mission’s over. Come on, you little traitor.”

You brought him back to HQ, where Robert was pacing in the hallway with his hands in his hair.

“Beef! There you are—wait… why do you have him? And why does he look guilty?”

Beef walked straight to Robert and sat down, head hung like a criminal caught red-pawed.

You crossed your arms. “Your dog followed me out on a mission.”

Robert blinked. “Why would he—?”

Beef lifted a paw and tapped your jacket pocket.

“Oh my god,” Robert muttered. “You had jerky.”

“It was ONE SNACK, Robert.”

Robert sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I’m… really sorry. He gets attached. Especially to people he likes.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So your dog likes me.”

Robert cleared his throat. “Uh… yeah. He… definitely does.”

Beef barked once, nudging Robert’s leg. Robert turned pink.

You smirked. “Good to know.”

Robert tried to look unbothered, but his ears betrayed him—bright red, matching the glow on his cheeks. Beef, proud of himself, trotted over to your side again like he’d solved some huge problem.

Robert groaned.

“Beef. Stop matchmaking.”

You laughed. “Too late. He already followed me on a date. Kind of.”

“That wasn’t a—” Robert froze as you walked past him. “Wait—was it?”

“Keep wondering,” you said, giving Beef one last piece of jerky.

Beef barked again, and Robert looked like he suddenly needed a reboot.

[hypnos333]

LUNCH BREAK

Phenomaman x pregnant reader

The Dispatch floor buzzed with its usual chaos — mission reports, alerts, the hum of comms channels filling the air. You sat at your desk, headset perched just above your stomach, which was starting to make your uniform fit a little tighter than it used to. You’d been on dispatch duty for weeks now — no field work since you told the team about the baby.

Everyone had been kind, but no one fussed quite like him.

Phenomaman.

He’d promised to “check in,” but you didn’t expect him to take that literally.

When the elevator doors slid open, a wave of sunlight followed him in — or maybe that was just how it felt when he smiled at you. In one hand, he carried a bag and two drinks.

“You didn’t have to come all the way here,” you said, though you were already smiling.

He set the food down on your desk like it was a priceless artifact. “You’ve been on comms for four hours straight. That’s practically a crisis in itself.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Phenomenal,” he corrected, pulling a chair over. “There’s a difference.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your grin. He unpacked the meal — your favorite, of course. He’d even remembered to ask for extra fruit because he’d heard that was good “for energy.”

When he noticed the fatigue in your eyes, his expression softened. “You’re doing so much, you know. You keep all of us alive out there. And you’re growing a whole human while you do it.”

Your throat tightened a little at that. “You make it sound heroic.”

“It is,” he said simply. “And I’m proud of you.”

The room quieted around you, the noise of Dispatch fading to a distant hum. He reached across the table and brushed a crumb from your sleeve, his fingers lingering for just a second longer than they needed to.

“You should eat before it gets cold,” he said, clearing his throat. “And… maybe let someone else take the next shift.”

“Are you volunteering?” you teased.

He grinned. “For you? Always.”

You laughed, but your heart warmed at the sincerity behind his words. When he left later, promising to come back with dessert, you watched him go — cape catching the light, a little too bright for the dull room.

You pressed a hand to your stomach and whispered, “That’s our hero — the one who takes care of us.”

And even though you were supposed to be tired, you couldn’t stop smiling.

[hypnos333]

☀️ Mornings with Phenomaman

Phenomaman x reader

The first thing you notice isn’t the sunlight — it’s the quiet. The kind of quiet that only exists after a long night of chaos. You stir slowly, wrapped in a blanket that smells faintly like ozone and coffee. The hum of the city beyond the Dispatch headquarters barely reaches this high up.

Phenomaman is already awake. He’s sitting by the window, the early gold light tracing the edges of his cape. For once, it isn’t flowing behind him or fluttering against a storm. It just rests there, folded over the back of his chair like an ordinary piece of fabric — like he’s trying to feel ordinary, too.

When he turns, his smile is small. Real. “Morning,” he says, his voice a little rough — not from shouting commands over comms, but from being quiet for too long.

You get up, padding across the floor. “You didn’t sleep much,” you murmur, glancing at the untouched coffee on the sill.

He exhales softly, the faint shimmer of his alien aura dimming. “Didn’t want to miss this,” he says, nodding toward the light spilling across the city. “Sometimes… it feels like the only time I can just be.”

You sit beside him, knees brushing. He looks at you for a moment — the world’s strongest hero, trying to find words that make him feel human. “You make it easier,” he admits quietly. “Being here. Breathing.”

Your hand finds his. His fingers are warm, calloused, a little trembling. You squeeze them gently. “You don’t always have to be ‘Phenomenal,’ you know,” you whisper. “Sometimes just… being you is enough.”

He lets out a shaky laugh — the kind that feels like relief more than humor. “You always say that like you mean it.”

“I do.”

For a while, neither of you speak. The sunlight crawls higher, brushing against his face. He leans back, finally closing his eyes, the corners of his mouth softening into a calm expression you wish the rest of the world could see.

When he opens them again, they meet yours. “Stay a little longer?”

You smile. “Always.”

And in that still moment — no headlines, no missions, no pressure — the hero isn’t Phenomaman, and you aren’t the person waiting behind the comms. You’re just two people sharing a quiet morning, hearts steady, the world finally at peace.

[hypnos333]

When the City Sleeps

Miles Morales x Reader

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: On a Brooklyn rooftop, you and Miles confront the growing distance between you. He still cares, but Spider-Man’s life keeps pulling him away — leaving you with the pain of loving someone who can never fully stay.

Brooklyn was quieter than usual. No honking, no shouting from open windows — just the low hum of the streetlights and the wind pushing empty soda cans across the pavement.

You sat on the rooftop edge, legs dangling into the void. The city looked so small from here, like you could fold it up and tuck it into your pocket.

Miles landed behind you without a sound, but you felt the rooftop shift under his weight. His mask was off, his curls messy from the wind, his eyes shadowed with something heavier than exhaustion.

“You weren’t supposed to see me like this,” you murmured.

“Like what?” His voice was soft, careful, like he was afraid you might shatter if he spoke too loud.

“Like I’m falling apart.”

He stepped closer, the gravel crunching under his sneakers. “You think I don’t notice? You’ve been slipping away, little by little. Not answering texts. Skipping school. You don’t laugh the same.”

You swallowed hard, keeping your eyes on the distant skyline. “And you’ve been gone. Swinging through the city, saving everyone else. What happens when I’m the one who needs saving?”

That hit him. You saw it in the way his jaw clenched. “I can’t be everywhere at once,” he said quietly, almost pleading. “But I’m here now.”

“Now isn’t enough, Miles.”

He sank down beside you, his knee brushing yours. His hand hovered near yours, trembling slightly before he finally took it. His palm was warm, steady — a cruel contrast to the cold ache settling in your chest.

“I’d give up the suit for you,” he whispered.

You shook your head. “No, you wouldn’t. And you shouldn’t. The city needs you.” You forced a small, broken smile. “I just wish I could keep a piece of you for myself.”

He didn’t reply, just rested his forehead against yours, eyes shut tight like he could memorize the feeling of you in this moment.

The wind picked up, carrying the faint sounds of sirens in the distance. You both knew he’d have to go soon. You both knew you couldn’t stop him.

When he finally stood, he hesitated, looking back at you as if trying to commit you to memory.

“Don’t disappear on me,” he said.

You smiled through the ache in your throat. “Only if you promise not to disappear on me first.”

He didn’t answer. He just pulled the mask back over his face, turned, and vanished into the night — leaving you with the city lights and the sound of your heart breaking.