Chelle ⎊

+𝟏𝟖 ⋮ Marvel 𝐗 Black!Reader Writer 🎧ྀི♪⋆.✮ 𝟐𝟎; 🔎 ⊹₊⟡⋆

[ironinc]

Masterlist ⎊".ᐟ

   ︶⊹︶︶⠀୨୧⠀︶︶⊹︶ * ୨୧   ︶⊹︶︶⠀୨୧⠀︶︶⊹︶ *  ୨୧ ︶

          Introductions, + Interests. 🎱

         Hello! This is just a small introduction as to who I am. I go by 'Chelle' I’m 20 and I love creative writing. This will also be a guide to all of my stories. I mainly focus on stories for a black woman as the reader. all of my stories will be NSFW/explicit. If there's any request to go out of that I will gladly accept them as well. Stay well and hydrated <3

⋆˙⟡ My personal Favorite is ‘Distracted’ w/ Peter Parker !

꒰ Marvel ꒱

— Tony Stark/Iron Man

⋆.˚ Drunk Confession (Pt 1)

⋆.˚ Drunk Confession (Pt 2) / NSFW

-

⋆.˚ My Dearest Situationship (Pt 1) / NSFW

⋆.˚ My Dearest Situationship (Pt 2) / NSFW

-

⋆.˚ Dangerous Riches / NSFW

⋆.˚ The Private Room / NSFW

-

⋆.˚ Secret Tape (Pt.1) / NSFW

-

⋆.˚ Heart In A Flux / NSFW

⋆.˚ My Turn / NSFW

— Captain America 

⋆.˚ One Night, Two Worlds / NSFW

— Peter Parker/Tom Holland

⋆.˚ Rivalry's Reward / NSFW

⋆.˚ Desire in the Web / NSFW

⋆.˚ Study Break / NSFW

⋆.˚ Civil War / NSFW

⋆.˚ Bing Bong, Beer Pong / NSFW

⋆.˚ Distracted / NSFW

⋆.˚ Can’t look away, lingerie / NSFW

⋆.˚ One Message Sent / NSFW

꒰ Random Goodies ꒱

⋆.˚ Game Time 'Jalen Hurts / NSFW

⋆.˚ Out Of Time ' Chris Sturniolo / NSFW

⋆.˚ Closed Quarters ' Steve Harrington / NSFW

  - Many more soon…

- Border credit @chateaubarnes -

[ironinc]

One Message Sent.ᝰ.ᐟ

Dom | Peter Parker x F!Black Reader. (Smut/NSFW)

˗ˏˋ While settling down for the night you received a text notification from the one and only, Peter Parker. The boy that usually only texts you about science and work. But this message was unexpected, a photo of his abs being the only thing sent to you.

──── .✦

Very explicit & detailed. | Minors DNI! | A/N: I am so sorry I have been gone for months again! Work has been busy, but with me getting used to my schedule, I’m genuinely back. To keep it short, this is college Peter, 21. You are 20 in this. I love you guys, and I will continue uploading! | WC: 3,012

[btw: I had to look up all those scientific terms & etc because science is not my thing anymore and I wanted this story to be a bit nerdy.]

.✦ ݁˖

Your phone buzzed against the nightstand, a stark, white flash in the dark room. You groaned, rolling over in your tangle of blankets, one hand fumbling blindly to silence the intrusion.

The glow lit up your face as you squinted at the screen. A text. From Peter.

That wasn’t unusual. Peter Parker, your lab partner for the recent project of Organic Chemistry, texted about data sets, conflicting results, and the existential dread of Professor Banner’s grading curve. You expected a question about the Fourier-transform infrared spectroscopy assignment, maybe a panicked emoji.

What loaded on your screen wasn’t a question.

It was a photograph. Dim, intimate lighting from what looked like a desk lamp. The focus was on a slice of toned stomach, the defined lines of abs cutting down toward the low-slung waistband of grey sweatpants. A faint trail of dark hair disappeared beneath the fabric. The skin glowed warm, a few faint, silvery lines, scars from some forgotten lab mishap, scattered like tiny constellations. No caption. Just the image.

You stared. The soft cotton of your boy shorts suddenly felt too tight. Your spaghetti strap tank top felt too thin. The silk bonnet on your head felt absurdly domestic. You were in your bed, in your safe space, and Peter Parker had just bombed it with a pixelated version of his abdomen.

Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard. What did you say to that? ‘Nice abs’? ‘Wrong number’? Your heart was doing a weird, stuttering rhythm against your ribs. You typed, deleted, typed again.

You: Did you mean to send this to someone else?

The three dots appeared immediately. He’d been waiting.

Peter: No.

A beat. Then another message.

Peter: Couldn’t stop thinking about you after lab today. About the way you bite your pen when you’re concentrating.

Your breath stopped in your throat. That was… specific.

Personal. Not about science.

You: That’s a weird thing to fixate on, Parker.

Peter: Is it? I fixate on a lot of things about you.

The dots danced. Another photo loaded. This one was closer. His hand was splayed across his lower stomach, fingers dipping just below the sweatpants’ band, thumb hooking in it.

The muscles in his forearm were taut. The message that followed was simple.

Peter: I’m outside.

You shot up, the blankets pooling at your waist.

Outside? You scrambled to the window, peering through the blinds. The streetlamp painted the sidewalk in jaundiced yellow. And there he was, leaning against the brick facade of your apartment building, head tilted back, phone glow illuminating his face. He looked up, as if sensing you, and gave a small, almost nervous wave.

Your mind blanked. This was insane. It was nearly midnight.

You were in pajamas. He’d sent a photo of his stomach. Yet, a slow, heavy heat was pooling low in your belly, spreading outward. The academic, slightly awkward Peter from the lab was gone, replaced by something far more direct. Far more dangerous.

You typed, your fingers feeling clumsy.

You: It’s late.

Peter: I know. Let me in?

You stood there, torn. This was a line, once crossed, that would obliterate your carefully constructed lab-partner dynamic. You’d have to find a new partner.

You’d have to avoid him in the library. The practical part of your brain screamed a list of consequences.

The part of you that was now achingly aware of the dampening cotton between your thighs didn’t care.

You: 2nd floor. Door’s unlocked.

You didn’t wait to see his reply. You just stood in the middle of your studio apartment, listening to the frantic beat of your own heart. You heard the distant creak of the building’s main door, then footsteps on the stairs, quick, light. A soft knock.

You opened the door.

He filled the doorway, dressed down in a dark hoodie and those grey sweatpants. He smelled like cold night air and faint, clean soap. His eyes, usually hidden behind a hood or narrowed in thought, were dark and intent, scanning you from the silk bonnet down to your bare feet. A slow smile touched his lips, not his usual shy grin, but something sharper, more knowing.

“Hey,” he said, his voice a low rumble.

“Hey.” You sounded breathless. “You’re… here.”

“I am.” He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, closing the door softly behind him. His gaze was a physical weight. “I like the bonnet.”

You self-consciously touched it. “It’s for my hair.”

“I know what it’s for.” He took another step, reducing the space between you to nothing. You had to tilt your head back to look at him. “You look comfortable.”

“I was trying to sleep.”

“Were you?” His hand came up, not touching you, just hovering near the strap of your tank top. “After I sent that picture?”

You had no clever retort. The truth was too obvious in the way your skin prickled under his near-touch. “No,” you admitted, the word barely a whisper.

“Good.” His fingers finally made contact, tracing the line of the strap from your shoulder down to where it met the thin fabric over your breast. The touch was feather-light, devastating.

“Because I haven’t been able to think about anything else all night. Just you. In that lab coat. Out of it.”

His other hand came up, mimicking the first on your other strap. He pushed them both down your shoulders in one slow, deliberate motion. The cool air hit your skin, pebbling your nipples instantly under the thin cotton. You didn’t move to stop him.

“Peter…” you started, but the protest died.

“Tell me to leave,” he murmured, his lips close to your ear. His

His breath was warm. “Tell me this is a mistake, that we have a lab report due on Tuesday, and I should go home and review the chiral chromatography data.”

You swallowed. “Fuck the data.”

A low sound escaped him, almost a growl. “That’s what I wanted to hear.” His hands slid from the straps to cup your face, tilting it up to his. The kiss wasn’t tentative. It was hungry, deep, and claiming from the first second. His tongue swept into your mouth, and you met it with your own, a spark igniting into a wildfire. Your hands came up, clutching at his hoodie, dragging him closer. The soft fabric of his sweatpants brushed against your bare thighs.

He walked you backward, his mouth never leaving yours, until the backs of your knees hit the edge of your bed.

You collapsed onto it, pulling him down on top of you. The weight of him, solid and real, was a shock after weeks of imagined glances. He braced himself on his elbows, looking down at you, his hair messy where your fingers had plowed through it.

“I have fantasies,” he said, his voice rough. “About you. Detailed, fucking specific fantasies. And tonight, I’m making them real.”

“What kind of fantasies?” you asked, your own voice unfamiliar to you, thick with want.

He didn’t answer with words. He kissed you again, harder, then his mouth left yours, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, your neck, to the hollow of your throat. His teeth grazed your collarbone, a gentle, testing bite that made you jerk beneath him. Gentle biting. He soothed the spot with his tongue, then bit again, a little lower, a little harder, on the swell of your breast above your tank top.

“Off,” he ordered, tugging at the hem of your shirt.

You sat up enough to pull it over your head, your bonnet getting knocked askew. You yanked it off, tossing it aside, your hair tumbling free. His eyes drank in the sight of your bare breasts, the dark nipples already tight and eager.

“Fuck,” he breathed, a reverence in the curse. He lowered his head, but didn’t take a nipple into his mouth. Instead, he nuzzled the soft underside of your breast, his nose and lips brushing the sensitive skin. He breathed in deeply. “You smell incredible. Like sleep and skin and… you.”

Then his mouth closed over your nipple, hot and wet, his tongue swirling around the peak before sucking firmly. A jolt of pure, electric pleasure arrowed straight to your cunt, and you cried out, your back arching off the bed. He hummed against you, the vibration making your toes curl.

He switched to the other breast, lavishing it with the same attentive, devouring focus, his hand coming up to knead and tease the one he’d just left.

“Peter… oh, god…”

“Not god,” he mumbled against your skin, moving downward.

“Just me. Just your lab partner who’s about to fucking ruin you for anyone else.”

His kisses burned a path down your stomach, his tongue dipping into your navel. His hands hooked into the waistband of your boy shorts and dragged them down your legs, taking your panties with them in one motion. You were naked now, exposed under his dark, heated gaze. He settled between your legs, pushing your thighs apart with his shoulders.

The first cool breath of air against your wet folds made you tremble.

“Look at this,” he said, his voice full of awe. “Look how fucking wet you are for me. And I haven’t even touched you here yet.”

He leaned in, but again, he didn’t do what you expected.

“Please,” you whimpered, your hips lifting off the mattress.

“Please what?” He lifted his head, his eyes glinting. “Use your words mama. Tell me what you want my mouth to do.”

“I want you to taste me,” you begged, the vulgarity falling from your lips without shame. “Lick my pussy, Peter. Please.”

A slow, triumphant smile spread across his face.

“Since you asked so nicely.”

His mouth descended, and the first flat stroke of his tongue from your entrance to your clit was so intense, so perfectly aimed, you saw stars. He didn’t just lick- he explored. He licked into your opening, tasting your juices, humming his approval. He circled your clit with the tip of his tongue, lazy and teasing, before sucking the stiff bud gently between his lips. Your hands flew to his head, fingers tangling in his curls, holding him there. He ate you with a single-minded intensity that was utterly mesmerizing, like a complex problem he was determined to solve. His nose pressed against your clit as his tongue fucked deep into your cunt, then he’d pull back to lap at your sensitive folds, over and over.

“You taste so fucking good,” he groaned against you, the words vibrating through your very bones.

“Better than I dreamed. I’m gonna dream about this taste now. About how your cunt feels on my tongue.”

He added fingers, sliding two inside you with ease, crooking them to rub that sweet, spongy spot deep inside. The combined assault, his mouth on your clit, his fingers filling and stroking you, coiled the tension in your belly impossibly tight. You were babbling, half-words, half-moans, your thighs shaking against his head.

“I’m gonna… Peter, I’m gonna come…”

“Come,” he commanded, his voice muffled against you.

“Come in my mouth baby. Let me feel it.”

The permission shattered you. Your orgasm ripped through you, a convulsive, blinding wave that made your entire body seize. You cried out, back bowing, your cunt clamping down rhythmically on his fingers as he kept licking, gentler now, drawing out every last pulse. He didn’t stop until you were a twitching, oversensitive mess, pushing weakly at his head.

He crawled back up your body, kissing your stomach, your breasts, your neck, letting you taste yourself on his lips. He was hard, the length of his cock a thick, insistent pressure against your thigh through his sweatpants.

“My turn,” you whispered, your hands going to his waistband.

He helped you, shoving the sweatpants and his boxers down just enough to free his cock. It sprang out, thick and veined, the head flushed dark and already glistening with a bead of pre-cum. You wrapped your hand around him, and he hissed, his hips jerking.

“Fuck, your hand…”

You stroked him, once, twice, marveling at the silken heat of his skin over the rigid core. “I want to taste you, too.”

He didn’t argue. He shifted, kneeling over your face, one hand braced on the headboard. You didn’t need any more invitation. You leaned up and took the head into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the crown, lapping up the salty, bitter pre-cum. He groaned, a deep, ragged sound that fueled you. You took him deeper, relaxing your throat, your mouth stretched wide around his girth. Your hand worked the base as you sucked, using the flat of your tongue on the sensitive underside.

“Just like that… oh, fuck, just like that baby…” he chanted, his fingers threading into your hair, not forcing, just holding. His hips began a shallow, helpless thrust.

“Your mouth is so fucking perfect. I’ve wanted this. Wanted to fuck this smart mouth of yours.”

The dirty talk, the reality of him in your mouth, the weight of his cock on your tongue, it was overwhelming. You sucked him with a greed that surprised you, wanting to pull those same sounds from him, to make him lose the control he’d so carefully wielded over you.

He pulled back suddenly, breathless. “Enough. I want to be inside you. I need to be inside you.”

He rolled off, lying beside you, his chest heaving.

You turned to face him, and he captured your mouth in another searing kiss. His hand slid between your legs, fingers sliding through your slick folds, rubbing your clit in slow, firm circles. The hypersensitivity from your first orgasm was fading, replaced by a fresh, demanding ache.

“How do you want me?” you asked.

“On top,” he said. “I want to watch you. I want to see your face when I fill you up.”

You moved, straddling his hips. His hands came to your waist, holding you steady. You reached between you, guiding the blunt, wet head of his cock to your entrance. You paused, letting it just rest there, a teasing pressure against your swollen lips.

“Fucking tease,” he gritted out, his knuckles white where he gripped your hips.

You smiled, a slow, deliberate smile you’d never dared give him in the lab. You rubbed the slick tip up and down your slit, coating him in your wetness, smearing it over your clit with each pass. A soft, slick shhhick sound accompanied each movement. His pre-cum mixed with your juices, making everything glisten.

“You like that?” you breathed, rocking gently, letting the head nudge your opening but not penetrate.

“You like feeling how wet you made me?”

“Yes,” he gasped. “Now stop playing and sit on my cock.”

“Or what?” You gave a little roll of your hips, letting the head pop softly against your clit, a tiny, delicious shock.

“Or I’ll flip you over and fuck you so hard you’ll forget your own name,” he said, but there was a desperate plea underneath the threat.

You decided to take mercy. You positioned him again, and slowly, so slowly, you began to sink down. The stretch was immense, breathtaking. Your eyes locked with his as his thick cockhead pushed past your tight entrance, then steadily filled you, inch by incredible inch. A low, guttural moan tore from your throat. His eyes were wide, dark pools of pure lust, watching your face contort with the feeling of being split open.

“Oh my god… Peter… you’re so big…”

“You’re taking me so fucking well,” he grunted, his hips lifting slightly to meet your descent. “Your cunt is swallowing me whole. Fuck, look at you.”

You settled fully, impaled, feeling him buried to the hilt.

You settled fully, impaled, feeling him buried to the hilt. The fullness was almost too much, a delicious, overwhelming pressure. You stayed there for a moment, letting your body adjust, letting him feel the hot, tight clasp of you around him.

Then you began to move.

You rose up, almost letting him slip out, then sank back down, setting a slow, deep rhythm. His hands slid from your waist to your breasts, thumbing your nipples as you rode him. The angle was perfect, his cock grinding against that deep, sweet spot with every downward stroke. Pleasure built again, a steady, rising tide.

“Faster mama.” he urged, his own hips meeting your thrusts.

You obeyed, picking up the pace, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room, mingled with your ragged breaths and his choked curses. One of his hands left your breast and found your hand beside his head. His fingers laced tightly with yours, pinning it to the mattress. The gesture was unexpectedly intimate, an anchor in the frantic, physical storm. You squeezed his hand, holding on as the world narrowed to the place where your bodies joined.

“I’m not gonna last,” he warned, his thrusts becoming more erratic, driving up into you. “Come with me. I want to feel you come on my cock.”

You were right on the edge. The coil snapped. Your second orgasm was different—deeper, more consuming, a rolling quake that started in your cunt and radiated outwards until your very fingertips tingled. You clenched around him, milking his length, a broken cry escaping your lips.

That was all it took. With a final, brutal thrust, he held himself deep and still. A hot, pulsing flood filled you as he came, his own shout muffled against your shoulder. You collapsed forward onto his chest, both of you slick with sweat, hearts hammering a frantic, syncopated rhythm.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of your breathing. His softened cock was still nestled inside you, a tender, intimate connection. His hand, still laced with yours, gave a gentle squeeze.

“So,” he said, his voice hoarse. “About that lab report…”

Tell me you missed me because I missed you 😝 ALSO HAVE YALL SEEN THE TRAILER FOR THE NEW MOVIE??? It had me LEVITATING!!/$:

[Edit Credits: cherry.editorz on TikTok]

- I’ll see you soon ‹𝟹 ( Masterlist) ⋆˚࿔

[ironinc]

Closed Quarters.ᝰ.ᐟ

Dom | Steve Harrington x F!Black Reader. (Smut/NSFW)

˗ˏˋ Trapped in an abandoned cabin with Steve Harrington after a demo-dog hunt gone wrong, the tension between you becomes unbearable—and neither of you plans on resisting.

──── .✦

Very explicit & detailed. | Minors DNI! | A/N: So who’s NOT obsessed with Steve Harrington atp!?? I’m gonna hopefully write more things about him. This story takes place in like season 1. But let’s just start off small. I love you guys and I will continue to upload! | WC: 3,125

(‘Calloused’ definition: someone/something who is unfeeling, cruel, and insensitive, showing a lack of concern or sympathy for others' suffering)

⋆˙⟡

The cabin door slammed shut with a final, shuddering thud, the rusty lock clicking into place with a sound that felt like a death sentence.

Outside, the screech of a demo-dog echoed, too close, followed by the frantic pounding of its claws against the weathered wood.

“Shit!” Steve’s shoulder slammed into the door, his body bracing against it. “It’s jammed. The damn thing is jammed shut.”

Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat syncing with the creature’s scrabbling outside. The single room was dark, smelling of aged pine and damp earth. A dusty couch, a moth-eaten armchair, and a single grimy window that looked out into the impenetrable black of the Hawkins woods.

You were trapped.

“They’ll find us, right? Nancy… Hopper…” you breathed, your voice tighter than you wanted it to be.

Steve turned from the door, his chest heaving. The demo-dog’s sounds were already fading, moving off to hunt elsewhere. The sudden silence it left behind was somehow louder, thicker. “Maybe. Probably not ’til morning. That thing could be out there all night.”

He ran a hand through his perfect hair, a gesture you’d seen a hundred times at school, but now it was stripped of all its casual arrogance. Now it was just raw, tired motion. His eyes met yours in the gloom, and the air in the cramped space shifted.

The shared fear began to curdle, transforming into something else entirely—a tense, buzzing awareness.

Days of this. Days of stolen glances as he adjusted his grip on the nailed bat, of your hip accidentally brushing his as you crouched behind a car, of the way his voice would drop to a low, reassuring murmur meant only for you. All of it, every single repressed second, flooded the tiny space between you.

“Your hands are shaking,” he said, his voice a low rasp.

You looked down. They were. A fine tremor ran through your fingers. You clenched them into fists.

“Adrenaline crash. It’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.” He took a step closer.

The cabin was so small that it only took one. You could see the faint sheen of sweat on his brow, the intense focus in his eyes that was no longer on the threat outside, but on you.

“Scared?”

“Aren’t you?”

“Terrified.” Another step. You could smell him now—sweat, cheap deodorant, and the unmistakable scent of male heat.

“But not of them right now.”

Your breath caught. Not of them. The implication hung there, heavy and undeniable. Your crush, that stupid little secret you’d kept since forever, since watching him strut through the halls of Hawkins High, felt like a live wire in your chest. And the way he was looking at you… It wasn’t the way he looked at anyone else. It was hungry.

“Steve…”

“I’ve been thinking about this,” he whispered, his voice dropping into a register that vibrated right through your core

“For days. Weeks, maybe. Every time you bite your lip when you’re concentrating.

Every fucking time you laugh. It’s been driving me out of my goddamn mind.”

He was right in front of you now. His fingertips, calloused and warm, brushed against your jaw, tilting your face up to his. The world outside ceased to exist. There was only the frantic pound of your blood, the dark intensity of his gaze, and the shocking heat of that single point of contact.

His lips met yours.

It wasn’t gentle. It was a spark hitting a gas leak. A low groan ripped from his throat as his mouth slanted over yours, hot and desperate. His other hand fisted in the back of your shirt, yanking you flush against him. You could feel the hard plane of his chest, the relentless beat of his heart, the unmistakable ridge of his erection already straining against his jeans and pressing into your stomach.

Mmmph. The sound was sucked from your lungs into his mouth. Your hands came up, not to push him away, but to clutch at his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing to erase every millimeter of space between you. His tongue swept into your mouth, a hot, claiming slide that tasted of mint and pure Steve. You met his hunger with your own, your tongues tangling in a wet, frantic dance.

He broke the kiss, both of you gasping for air. His forehead rested against yours, his eyes blazing in the dark. “Fuck. I knew it. I knew you’d taste like this.”

“Like what?” you panted, your fingers digging into the tough denim of his jacket.

“Like everything,” he growled before crashing his mouth back to yours.

His hands were everywhere, roaming your back, sliding down to grab your ass, squeezing handfuls of your flesh through your pants. The sound of your frantic kiss filled the tiny cabin. He walked you backward until your knees hit the edge of the dusty couch and you fell onto it, him landing on top of you, his weight a delicious, crushing pleasure.

His mouth left yours, trailing fire down your neck. “I want to hear you,” he demanded against your skin, his voice gravelly with want. “I want to hear every fucking sound you make.”

He yanked your shirt up, his mouth finding your bra-covered breast. He sucked the fabric, wetting it, his tongue circling your nipple until it was a hard, aching peak. You cried out, arching your back, offering yourself to him.

“That’s it, god, yes,” he moaned, finally pulling the cup down and taking your bare nipple into the scorching heat of his mouth. His tongue lashed it, his teeth grazed the sensitive nub, and a bolt of pure lightning shot straight to your core. You writhed beneath him, a moan torn from your throat.

“You like that? You like my mouth on your tits?” he asked, his voice muffled against your skin.

“Yes! Steve, please…”

“Please what?” He switched to your other breast, giving it the same lavish, wet attention. His hand slid down your stomach, his fingers popping the button on your jeans, dragging the zipper down with a harsh rrrip.

“Tell me what you want. Use your fucking words.”

“I want your fingers,” you begged, your hips bucking off the couch. “Please, I’m so wet for you.”

“My good girl,” he praised, his voice dripping with a filthy kind of reverence. “My desperate, dirty girl. Begging for it already.”

His fingers slid past the waistband of your panties, through your slick folds. The sound was obscenely loud. “Jesus Christ. Soaked. You’re fucking dripping for me.”

He found your clit, circling it with a relentless, perfect pressure. Your vision whited out. You were babbling, a string of yeses and pleases and his name, just his name, over and over.

“Such a filthy, pretty cunt,” he growled, working two fingers inside you. The wet, stretching sound made you clench around him. “Made for this. Made to take my fingers. My cock. Aren’t you baby?”

“Yes! Yes, Steve, I was, I was made for it!” you sobbed, your orgasm already coiling tight, spurred on by his crude, perfect words.

“Gonna come all over my hand, you perfect slut?” he whispered, his pace quickening, his thumb pressing hard on your clit. “Do it. Come for me. Now.”

The command, and the searing pleasure, shattered you. Your back arched off the couch as a brutal orgasm ripped through you, your inner muscles milking his fingers. A hot rush of release accompanied the convulsions, and you cried out, a raw, broken sound.

He didn’t stop. He fucked you through it with his hand, his eyes glued to your face, watching you come utterly apart for him. “That’s it. Look at you. Beautiful.”

As the last waves subsided, he withdrew his soaking fingers. You heard the rasp of his zipper, the rustle of his jeans being shoved down his thighs. Then he was there, the broad, hot head of his cock pressing against your drenched entrance. He was huge, stretching you in a way his fingers only hinted at.

“Look at me,” he commanded. You forced your eyes open. His face was a mask of pure, unadulterated lust. “This cunt is mine now.”

Steve’s hips snapped forward, sinking his cock into you with one deep, claiming thrust. A ragged gasp tore from your throat, echoing his own guttural groan. You’re so full. The thought was a pure, silent scream in your head. His weight pinned you to the dusty couch, his chest heaving against yours.

His eyes were locked on yours, burning with a possessiveness that made your already quivering insides clench around him.

“Fuck, you feel like heaven,” he panted, his voice raw. “This perfect, tight little cunt was made for my dick. Wrapped around me so fucking good.”

He began to move, a slow, torturous withdrawal followed by a swift, deep re-entry. The wet, obscene soundtrack of your joining filled the silence of the cabin. Your nails dug into the tough denim of his jacket, holding on as he set a relentless pace. Each stroke dragged against a spot deep inside you that made stars burst behind your eyelids.

“You like that?” he grunted, his rhythm stuttering as he fought for control. “You like how I fill you up? Take every fucking inch?”

“Yes, Steve, god, yes,” you whimpered, your head thrashing against the cushion. “Please. Don’t stop. Harder.”

A dark, pleased smirk touched his lips. “My greedy girl. Can’t get enough of this cock, can you? My perfect little slut. My perfect little slut.”

He drove into you, his thrusts becoming harder, faster, each one punching a sharp cry from your lungs. The coiled tension of your second orgasm was already building, a white-hot wire pulled taut deep in your belly. You were so close, so fucking close to shattering for him again.

Skrritch-scratch.

The sound was like a bucket of ice water.

It wasn’t loud, but it was unmistakable. A long, dragging scrape of something sharp against the other side of the cabin door.

Steve froze. His entire body went rigid above you, his cock buried to the hilt inside your pulsing heat.

Your eyes, wide with a renewed terror that was instantly, sickeningly familiar, snapped to his. The raw hunger in his gaze was instantly replaced by a razor-sharp alertness.

Skkrrrtch.

Another scratch. Slower this time. More deliberate. Then a low, rumbling growl that vibrated through the wooden door and seeped into the very floorboards.

“Don’t move,” Steve breathed, the words a ghost of sound against your lips. His voice had dropped to a whisper so soft you felt it more than heard it. “Don’t make a sound.”

The command was unnecessary. You were paralyzed, every muscle locked in a vise of fear. The only movement was the frantic, terrified hammering of your heart against your ribs and the involuntary, fluttering contractions of your inner muscles around his still-hard cock. Pulsing around him in little, wet clutches.

His eyes stayed glued to yours, and you saw the conflict raging in them, primal need warring with protective instinct. His jaw was clenched so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek. He lowered his forehead to yours, his breath coming in hot, silent gusts against your skin.

The growl outside deepened. A heavy weight thudded against the door, testing it. The old wood groaned in protest.

You flinched, a tiny, involuntary jerk that made his cock shift inside you. A sharp, pleasurable pain shot through your core. A choked sound, half-gasp, half-moan, tried to escape your throat. You clamped your lips together, biting down hard on the inside of your cheek to silence yourself.

Steve’s eyes flared. His hand, which had been braced on the couch beside your head, came up to cover your mouth. His palm was calloused, smelling of sweat and iron and him. The gesture wasn't rough; it was desperate. A necessary seal against the noises you couldn’t control.

The demo-dog sniffed loudly at the base of the door. A wet, probing sound. It knew. It knew you were in here.

Tears of frustration and fear pricked at your eyes. You were so agonizingly close to your peak, your body screaming for release, trapped in this terrifying, suspended animation. Steve’s body was a furnace of coiled tension above you, his own climax held painfully at bay.

He shifted his hips, the tiniest, most minuscule movement. A subtle circular grind that pressed his pubic bone against your clit. The pressure was exquisite torture. Your eyes rolled back in your head for a second, a silent, desperate plea for more.

He did it again, a slow, hidden undulation that sent shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your stifled body. All while his terrified eyes watched the door, listening to the monster sniffing just feet away.

His lips found your ear. “You feel that?” he whispered, his voice the barest exhale, a secret for you alone. “Feel how bad I still want to fuck you? Even with that thing out there… all I can think about is this hungry little pussy milking my dick.”

His filthy words, whispered under the threat of death, sent a fresh gush of wetness around him. The soft, internal sound was deafening to you.

“You’re getting even wetter,” he murmured, awe and lust mixing in his hushed tone. “You filthy, perfect thing. You love this, don’t you? The danger. My cock stuffed in you while we have to be quiet.” He gave another infinitesimal, devastating roll of his hips.

“You wanna come like this? With my hand over your mouth? Hmm? You wanna come all over my cock while that thing listens?”

You nodded frantically against his hand, your orgasm swelling, inevitable, a tsunami held back by the thinnest dam.

The scratching stopped. The growling ceased. For one heart-stopping moment, there was only silence from the other side of the door.

Then, the sound of heavy, padded footsteps moved away.

Fading into the distance.

The relief was so immediate, so overpowering, it acted as the final trigger.

Your body convulsed. A violent, silent orgasm ripped through you, your internal muscles clamping down on his cock in a series of frantic, rhythmic pulses.

Your scream was absorbed by his palm, coming out as a muffled, broken hum against his skin. Your back arched off the couch, your toes curling in your shoes, your world narrowing to the blinding, white-hot pleasure searing through your veins.

Steve’s control shattered. A raw, guttural groan was torn from his throat as your tight, fluttering channel milked him. “Fuck!” he grunted, no longer caring about silence. His hips pistoned into you, once, twice, three more brutal, deep thrusts.

You felt the hot, pulsing rush of his release flood into you.

Prolonging your own crashing waves of pleasure. He collapsed on top of you, his body shuddering, his face buried in your neck, his hot breath coming in ragged sobs against your skin.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of your heavy, synced breathing and the wet, sticky sound of your joined bodies. He was still inside you, still pulsing with the aftershocks.

Finally, he lifted his head. His eyes were dark, sated, but still held a shadow of fear. He slowly, reluctantly, pulled his softening cock from your heat.

A trail of his release leaked out onto your thigh, a hot, sticky testament to what just happened. He looked down at it, then back at your face, a slow, wicked smile spreading across his lips.

After wiping up as much as you could with the leftover cloth from your torn shirt, you and Steve get dressed and begin exploring the small cabin.

The sticky warmth between your thighs was a secret badge of honor, each step a slick reminder of Steve’s claim. The morning air was cold, a sharp contrast to the heat still pooling low in your belly.

Steve walked a step ahead, his nailed bat resting on his shoulder, but he kept glancing back, his intense eyes dark with a possessiveness that made your pulse race all over again.

“You good back there?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.

“Never better,” you said, and you meant it. The memory of his whispered filth, the way he’d filled you up while death scratched at the door, sent a fresh, needy throb through your core.

He smirked, that familiar Harrington charm now laden with a new, dangerous intimacy. “Yeah? Still feel me?”

You nodded, a flush warming your cheeks. “I can feel you leaking out of me, Steve. Every time I move.”

A low growl of approval vibrated in his chest. “Fuck, that’s…” He trailed off, his head snapping up, his entire body tensing. “Shh.”

The crunch of gravel under heavy tires cut through the quiet woods. A familiar police Blazer rolled into the clearing, kicking up dust, and came to a jarring halt twenty feet away.

The doors swung open.

Hopper emerged first, his face a thundercloud of concern that quickly morphed into sharp, assessing scrutiny. His eyes scanned the scene, the battered cabin, Steve with his weapon, you standing there looking thoroughly, unmistakably ravished.

Nancy followed, her expression shifting from relief to something far more complex in a heartbeat. Her sharp eyes didn’t miss a thing. Steve’s tousled hair, your flushed skin, the way you subtly adjusted your jeans.

“Harrington! Jesus Christ, we’ve been looking for you two all night,” Hopper barked, his voice echoing too loudly in the peaceful clearing. “What the hell happened? Are you hurt?”

Steve subtly shifted, placing his body slightly between you and them. “Demo-dog. Chased us in there. We were trapped ’til it left just before sunrise.”

Nancy’s gaze was locked on you, her journalist’s mind undoubtedly connecting every dot. The long night. The isolated cabin. The palpable, suffocating tension radiating off the two of you. “You were in there all night? Just the two of you?” she asked, her tone deceptively neutral.

Your heart hammered. “Yeah. It was… a long night.”

A beat of heavy silence. Hopper’s eyes narrowed, traveling from Steve’s defensive posture to your attempt at nonchalance. He’d seen enough in his life to know the look of people who’d spent the night doing more than just hiding.

“Right,” he said, the single word dripping with disbelief. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, the perimeter’s clear now. Get in the truck. We’ll debrief back at the station.”

Nancy finally looked away from you, her focus landing on Steve. There was a question in her eyes, an old history that suddenly felt like it was stretching taut between them. “Steve? Everything okay?”

Steve’s jaw tightened. His gaze flicked to you for a fraction of a second, a silent communication that felt more intimate than a touch. “Peachy, Wheeler. Let’s just go.”

I’m so obsessed with Steve Harrington/Joe Kerry. Like it’s a thing that’s been here since 2016 😩 if you guys enjoyed this I’ll continue making more with Steve!

[TikTok Credit: exct6sy on tiktok]

- I’ll see you soon ‹𝟹 (Masterlist) ⋆˚࿔

[ironinc]

Study Break.ᝰ.ᐟ

Switch | Peter Parker x F!Black Reader. (Smut/NSFW)

˗ˏˋ Peter Parker stumbles into your apartment after days of non-stop hero work and missed lectures, exhausted, aching, and barely coherent. But when you see him slumped on your couch, textbooks forgotten, you decide studying isn't what he needs tonight.

──── .✦

Very explicit & detailed. | A/N: I am so sorry I have been gone for a months!! I literally joined the Navy and had to do some big girl things so I’m finally back and to keep it short. Peter in this is 21, you’re 20, and he goes from subby to dominate real quick! I love you guys and I will continue to upload! | WC: 2,187

(No definition)

ᥫ᭡.ִֶָ𓂃

The sofa groaned under his weight as Peter Parker collapsed onto it, a heap of red and blue spandex and an exhausted college student. His head lolled back, mask peeled off and discarded somewhere on the floor, revealing the sweat-dampened curls clinging to his forehead.

“Long night?” you asked, though the answer was written in every slack line of his body.

“You could say that,” he breathed out, eyes closed.

“Stopped a truck hijacking. Three,” he corrected himself, holding up a trembling finger. “Three truck hijackings. And a chem midterm this morning. I think my brain is leaking out of my ears.”

You watched him for a moment, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way his hands lay palms-up on his thighs, utterly spent. A fond, possessive warmth bloomed in your chest. Spider-Man belonged to the city, but this tired boy on your couch was all yours.

You moved without a sound, the soft cotton of your pajama shorts brushing your thighs as you climbed onto the couch, straddling his lap in one smooth, deliberate motion. His textbooks, clutched in your hand, you tossed to the floor with a decisive thud.

His eyes fluttered open, a flicker of surprise in their hazel depths. “Hey, I was gonna—”

“You’ve done enough hero stuff tonight,” you murmured, your voice a low promise. Your fingers found the hem of his suit, the material stretched taut over the hard planes of his stomach. You slid your hands beneath it, your palms skating over the hot, damp skin of his abdomen. His breath caught a sharp, ragged inhale.

“What are you…?”

“Shut up, Peter.” Your fingers traced the defined lines of his muscles, feeling them jump and tighten under your touch. You leaned in, your lips a hair’s breadth from his. “Let me be the hero tonight.”

You closed the final distance, capturing his mouth with yours. It wasn't a gentle kiss, not at first. It was a claim. Your tongue swept past his lips, tasting the faint, metallic hint of the city and the pure, clean taste of him. A low groan vibrated in his chest, and his hands, which had been limp at his sides, suddenly came to life, gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks. His famous quipping was gone, replaced by these raw, hungry sounds you pulled from him.

You broke the kiss, nipping at his bottom lip. “You’re so wound up, baby. All that tension. Let me have it.”

“Fuck,” he gasped, his head falling back against the couch cushions. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with a need that had nothing to do with fighting crime.

His hips gave an involuntary jerk upwards, the hard ridge of his cock straining against the confines of his suit and pressing firmly against the center of you. A sharp, electric jolt of pleasure shot through you.

“Is that for me?” you whispered, grinding down on him slowly, making him hiss through his teeth. “All that frustration… You gonna let it out for me?”

“Yes,” he choked out, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass. “God, yes.”

Your own need was a live wire, sparking under your skin. You needed to feel him, all of him. You tugged at the top of his suit, pulling it down to his waist, exposing the sculpted perfection of his chest. You leaned down, your ponytail brushing his shoulder, and took one of his nipples into your mouth, sucking hard, swirling your tongue around the tight peak.

Peter cried out, a broken, desperate sound. “Shit! Don’t stop.”

“You like that?” you asked, your voice muffled against his skin. You moved to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment, biting down just enough to make him gasp. “You like my mouth on you?”

“I love it,” he panted, his hands coming up to tangle in your hair, not guiding, just holding on. “I fucking love it. Please.”

“Please what?” You straightened up, looking down at him. His lips were swollen, his chest flushed. He was a complete wreck, and he was all yours. “Use your words, Parker.”

“I need to be inside you,” he begged, his voice stripped raw. “Right now. Please, I need to fuck you. I can’t think.”

The thrill of it burned through you. Knowing you could reduce Spider-Man to a begging, mindless mess. You hooked your fingers into the waistband of your shorts and your panties, pushing them down your legs and kicking them aside. His eyes followed every movement, hungry, devouring.

“Then fuck me,” you commanded, shifting back to position yourself over him.

His hands were a blur of motion, shoving his own suit and boxers down just enough to free his cock. It sprang up, thick and hard, the tip already glistening. He gripped himself, stroking once, a groan tearing from his throat at the contact.

You didn’t make him wait. You sank onto him in one long, slow, devastating slide.

The breath left his lungs in a shocked rush. “Fuck.”

You moaned, the sound long and low, as he filled you completely, stretching you in the most perfect way. “Oh, Peter… your cock feels so good inside me. So fucking big.”

You started to move, a slow, rolling rhythm that had him grasping at your hips, his knuckles white. You set a punishing pace, rising and falling on his dick, each downward thrust punching a ragged moan from his lips. The slick, wet sounds of your bodies joining filled the small room.

“You’re so deep,” you breathed, placing your hands on his chest for leverage, driving yourself down onto him harder, faster. “You feel that? That’s all for you. My fucking pussy is all yours.”

His composure was shattered. His witty comebacks were gone, replaced by a litany of curses and your name, chanted like a prayer. “Yes… Yes… fuck, just like that. You’re gonna make me come. I’m not gonna last.”

“Look at me,” you demanded. His eyes, glazed with pleasure, found yours. You took one of his hands from your hip and laced your fingers through his, squeezing tight, pinning it to the couch beside his head. The connection was electric, intimate. You brought your other hand to his face, thumb brushing his cheek. “Come for me, Peter. I want to feel you lose control. I want to feel you fucking explode inside me.”

That was all it took. His back arched off the couch, a guttural, broken cry tearing from his throat as his orgasm ripped through him. You felt the hot, pulsing rush of his cum flooding you, wave after wave, and you milked him for every last drop, clenching around him until he was shuddering and sensitive.

You collapsed forward onto his chest, both of you breathing like you’d just run a marathon. His semen was already starting to leak out of you, a warm, wet trail on your inner thigh and his stomach. You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, placing soft, open-mouthed kisses there. His arms came around you, holding you close.

You could feel his heart hammering against your chest, a wild, frantic rhythm slowly beginning to steady. His cock was still nestled deep inside you, softening but still present, a warm, heavy weight. You gave a slow, subtle clench of your internal muscles around him, and he jolted with a sharp, oversensitive gasp.

“Easy,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse and wrecked. “I’m… that’s… fuck.”

You smiled against his skin. “Just keeping you close.” You shifted, just a little, and felt another thick trickle of his release escape. The sensation was filthy, possessive. You loved it.

His hand, the one still intertwined with yours, squeezed. He brought your joined fingers to his lips, kissing your knuckles with a tenderness that contrasted violently with the animalistic fucking of moments before.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

You lifted your head to look at him. His eyes were heavy-lidded, sated, but a new heat was already beginning to smolder in their depths. You rolled your hips, a slow, deliberate circle that made him bite his lip.

“What’s wrong, Parker?” you teased, your voice a low purr.

“Can’t multitask?” You ground down on him again, feeling him twitch inside you, a faint but promising sign of life.

“You think you’re done? I’m not done with you yet.”

His eyes widened, a mixture of shock and pure, unadulterated want. “Again? You want me to… you can’t be serious.”

You leaned down, your lips brushing his ear. “I’m dead serious. I want to feel you get hard inside me again. I want you to fill me up one more time.” You kissed the shell of his ear. “Think you can be a good boy for me and do that?”

A slow, wicked grin spread across Peter’s face, that familiar spark of arrogance flooding back into his hazy eyes. “You think you’re still in charge?”

Before you could answer, his hands clamped onto your waist. In a move that defied physics and his own exhaustion, he flipped you onto your back on the couch cushions, pinning you beneath him with an effortless strength that stole your breath. The world tilted, the fabric of the couch rough against your skin.

“Peter—!”

“My turn,” he growled, his voice a low, thrilling rumble against your ear. He settled his weight on top of you, one hand pinning both of your wrists above your head. The hard length of his cock, already swelling back to life, pressed insistently against your slick entrance. “You had your fun. You wrecked me. Now it’s my fucking turn to wreck you.”

You struggled halfheartedly, a token resistance that only made his grip tighten, his fingers lacing through yours to keep your hands prisoner. The dominance was a facade, you could feel it in the slight tremor running through his muscular frame, but it was a delicious, intoxicating facade.

“What’s wrong, Parker?” you taunted, echoing his words from before, your voice breathy. “Can’t handle me being on top?”

“I can handle you just fine right here,” he shot back, his hips grinding against yours, the head of his dick catching on your wetness, teasing. “I want to feel you under me. I want to watch your face while I fuck you.”

He crashed his mouth down on yours. This kiss wasn't like the ones before. It was all teeth and tongue and raw, claiming hunger. He didn’t just kiss you; he consumed you. You moaned into his mouth, the taste of him, of both of you, flooding your senses. Your free hand came up to tangle in his sweat-damp curls, holding him to you as he devoured your lips, your jaw, the sensitive column of your throat.

“You feel that?” he panted against your skin, his breath scorching hot. “That’s my cock getting hard for you again. Already. You did that.” He nipped at your collarbone. “Now you’re gonna take it.”

He released your hands, his own sliding down your body with a possessiveness that made you shiver.

He gripped your thighs, hiking them up over his shoulders, spreading you wide open for him. The position was obscene, exposing you completely, and you felt a fresh wave of arousal soak your folds.

“Fuck, look at you,” he breathed, his eyes dark with lust as he stared down at where his cock was poised at your entrance. “All wet and messy for me. Still full of my come.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. He drove into you in one powerful, unrelenting thrust, burying himself to the hilt.

A sharp cry was torn from your throat. The stretch was immense, overwhelming, the sensation of him filling you again so soon after his first release making your vision blur at the edges. He was so deep, the angle hitting places inside you that made you see stars.

“Oh god, Peter!”

“That’s it,” he groaned, his own voice strained with the intensity. He held himself there for a moment, letting you feel every inch, every throb of his dick inside your tight, clinging heat. “You take me so fucking good. Your pussy is gripping my cock like it never wants to let go.”

He withdrew almost completely, leaving you achingly empty, then slammed back into you. The force of it shook the couch, the sound of skin slapping against skin sharp and lewd in the quiet room. He set a brutal, punishing pace, pounding into you with a raw, animalistic rhythm that stole the air from your lungs. Each thrust was a claim, a reassertion of the power you’d so expertly stripped from him minutes before.

You were reduced to a writhing, moaning mess beneath him, your nails digging into the corded muscles of his back. “Yes! Fuck, Peter! Right there! Don’t stop!”

“You like that?” he grunted, his own control fraying, his movements becoming more ragged, more desperate. “You like me fucking you like this? Taking what I want?”

“I love it! I love your fucking dick!” you cried out, your head thrashing against the cushions. “I love how you feel inside me! Harder.”

He obeyed, his thrusts turning frenzied, his breathing a harsh rasp in your ear. His hand slipped between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight, frantic circles. The dual assault was too much. Pleasure coiled tight in your belly, a spring wound to its breaking point.

“I’m gonna come,” you choked out, your body beginning to tremble uncontrollably beneath his.

“Peter, I’m gonna come all over your cock.”

“Do it,” he demanded, his voice a guttural command. “Come for me. Squeeze that pretty little pussy around my dick. Milk me dry. Fuck, I wanna feel it.”

His words, filthy and precise, were the final push you needed. Your orgasm detonated, a white-hot explosion that seared through every nerve ending.

Your back arched off the couch as a silent scream tore through you, your inner muscles clamping down on his shaft in violent, pulsing waves.

The sensation of you clenching around him tore a ragged shout from Peter’s throat. His rhythm shattered entirely, his thrusts becoming shallow, frantic jerks as his own climax ripped through him.

“Yes! Take it, take all of it baby.”

You felt the hot, liquid rush of his release flooding you for the second time, a profound warmth that seemed to go on and on, his hips stuttering against yours as he emptied himself deep inside you.

He collapsed on top of you, his full weight pressing you into the couch, both of you slick with sweat and panting like you’d just fought a war. His cock remained buried within you, pulsing faintly as the last of his cum trickled out. His face was buried in your neck, his ragged breaths hot against your skin.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of your heartbeats slowing, syncing up. His fingers, which were still tangled with yours, gave a weak, exhausted squeeze.

A soft, breathless laugh escaped you. “So much for being in charge, huh?”

He lifted his head, his hazel eyes soft and sated, all traces of his brief dominance gone, replaced by a vulnerable, dazed wonder. A faint blush crept up his neck. “You… you just feel too good. I can’t think straight when I’m inside you.”

He shifted his hips, a tiny, almost involuntary movement that made you both gasp at the oversensitive friction. A fresh trickle of his cum leaked out, a warm, wet trail on your inner thigh.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his eyes fluttering closed.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

You brought your intertwined hands to your lips and kissed his knuckles. “But what a way to go.” You clenched around him softly, experimentally, and he jolted with a sharp intake of breath. A slow, possessive smile.

Guys… i’m so happy with being back, please let me know if y’all have any request or anything, and overall hoo- fucking-yah.

[TikTok Credits: ihrtbucky on TikTok]

- I’ll see you soon ‹𝟹 ( Masterlist) ⋆˚࿔

[ironinc]

My Turn.ᝰ.ᐟ

Tony Stark x F!Black Reader. (Smut/NSFW)

˗ˏˋ Your husband, Tony Stark, has been working in his lab for days on end, consumed by his latest projects. But little does he know that his focus is about to be interrupted by his most tempting distraction yet. You.

──── .✦

Very explicit & detailed. | A/N: Guys- Adult life has really kicked me in the ass for the past two months. I apologize for not writing anything recently. So I hope you all enjoy! | WC: 2,402

(Riveting definition: extremely interesting and exciting, and that it holds your attention completely.)

✮⋆˙

The garage was quiet except for the soft hum of machinery and the occasional clink of metal against metal. Tony Stark, shirtless, his muscular frame glistening faintly under the fluorescent lights, was hunched over his workstation.

His blue and white striped pajama pants hung low on his hips, the fabric loose but not enough to hide the defined V of his torso. His hands moved with precision, tweaking a small device that seemed to glow faintly in his palm. Focus. That was the word that had been driving him for days now. 

Focus on the project, focus on the science, focus on the damn problem in front of him.

But focus was a fragile thing, and you were about to shatter it.

You stood in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, watching him. Your bonnet kept your hair in place, the soft fabric a stark contrast to the sharp edges of the garage. The fitted white cropped top fitted your top frame perfectly. And your boy-short underwear hugging you just right.

You didn’t need to try to look tempting—it came naturally. And right now, you were very aware of the effect you could have on him.

“Tony,” you called out, your voice smooth and confident, cutting through the quiet like a knife.

He didn’t look up. “Yes, mama?” His tone was distracted, his eyes still fixed on the device in his hands.

“You’ve been down here for days,” you said, stepping into the room. Your bare feet made no sound on the concrete floor, but your presence was impossible to ignore. “Don’t you think it’s time for a break?”

“Almost got it,” he muttered, not even glancing your way. “Just need to—”

You stopped right beside him, close enough that you could smell the faint hint of sweat and metal on his skin. So close, yet so oblivious. You reached out, letting your fingertips trail lightly over his shoulder. His muscles tensed under your touch, but he didn’t pull away.

“Tony,” you said again, softer this time, leaning in so your breath brushed against his ear. “Look at me.”

You wanted to be riveting. Why is it so difficult?

Finally, he did. His dark eyes met yours, and you saw the moment his focus shifted. The device in his hand was forgotten, set down carelessly on the workbench as he turned to face you fully. His gaze was intense, searching as if he were trying to figure you out. But you weren’t here to be figured out. You were here to take.

“You’re distracting me,” he said, his voice low, almost teasing.

“Good,” you replied, a small smile playing on your lips. You stepped closer, your body nearly touching his. “You’ve been distracted long enough by your toys. Time to focus on me.”

He chuckled, a deep, rich sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Is that so?”

“Mmhm.” You reached up, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw, the stubble rough against your skin. His eyes never left yours, the intensity between you growing with every second. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife.

“And what exactly do you plan to do about it?” he asked, his voice dropping even lower, a challenge in his tone.

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you closed the distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was hungry, demanding, a silent declaration of what you wanted. Tony didn’t hesitate. His hands came up to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer as he kissed you back with equal fervor. The taste of him was intoxicating, the heat of his mouth making your head spin.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathing hard. His eyes were dark with desire, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath.

“You’re trouble,” he murmured, his voice smooth.

“You love it,” you shot back, a smirk tugging at your lips.

He didn’t deny it. Instead, he grabbed you by the hips and spun you around, pressing you against the edge of the workbench. The metal was cool against your back, a sharp contrast to the heat of his body as he leaned in, his lips finding the sensitive spot just below your ear. You gasped, your hands gripping the edge of the bench as he kissed and nipped his way down your neck.

“Tony,” you breathed, your voice trembling with need.

“Tell me what you want,” he growled against your skin, his hands sliding up your thighs.

“You know what I want,” you replied, your tone defiant even as your body betrayed you, arching into his touch.

He chuckled darkly, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your boy-short underwear. “Say it.”

“You,” you said, your voice firm despite the way your heart was racing. “I want you.”

That was all he needed to hear. In one swift motion, he yanked your underwear down, letting it fall to the floor. His hands were everywhere, cupping your ass, sliding up your thighs, teasing the wetness between your legs. You were already so turned on, your body aching for him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his fingers brushing against your slick folds. “You’re already dripping for me.”

You bit your lip, holding back a moan as he teased you, his fingers sliding through your wetness but not quite giving you what you wanted. “Tony, please,” you begged, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Please what?” he asked, his breath hot against your ear.

“Fuck me,” you said, the words coming out in a rush. “Please, just fuck me.”

In one smooth motion, he kicked off his pajama pants, his cock springing free. You didn’t even have time to admire him before he was lifting you up, settling you on the edge of the workbench. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, pulling him closer.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his eyes locked on yours as he guided himself to your entrance.

From your wetness he was easily inside you, filling you completely in one thrust. You gasped, your head falling back as he buried himself to the hilt. It was overwhelming, the way he stretched you, the heat of him making your toes curl.

Tony didn’t give you time to adjust. He started moving, his hips snapping against yours with a rhythm that left you breathless. Each thrust pushed you closer to the edge, your body tightening around him as pleasure coursed through you.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice rough with desire.

You obeyed, your eyes meeting his as he fucked you. The intensity in his gaze was almost too much, but you couldn’t look away. It was like he was seeing straight through you, down to the very core of who you were.

“You look so pretty taking me in— fuck.” he growled, his hands gripping your thighs as he pounded into you. 

You couldn’t even muffle a word because of how smoothly he pounded you. His words were barely audible over the sound of your bodies colliding anyway.

He shifted slightly, hitting a spot inside you that made you see stars. Your nails dug into his shoulders, your legs tightening around his waist as he moved. You were so close, so close, and you could feel him getting there too, his thrusts growing more erratic.

“Come on my cock baby,” he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.

And you did. The orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, your body shaking with the force of it as you screamed his name. Tony wasn’t far behind, his own release coming in a hot rush as he buried himself deep inside you.

Tony stayed where he was, his forehead resting against yours as you both came down from the high.

“You’re dangerous,” he murmured, his voice low but teasing.

You smirked, your hands trailing lazily down his chest. “You love it.”

“I do,” he admitted, pulling you closer. “But next time, maybe warn me before you interrupt my work.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” you asked, your tone playful.

Tony just shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re—“

Tony’s hands slid down your back, his fingers digging into your hips as he lifted you effortlessly off the workbench. His breath was hot against your neck, his chest still rising and falling heavily from the intensity of what had just transpired. 

“You’re not done with me yet, are you?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing as if he already knew the answer.

You shook your head, biting your lip as he carried you toward the sleek, classic red sports car parked in the corner of the garage. The cool metal of the hood sent a shiver up your spine as he placed you down, your bare skin meeting the smooth surface. His eyes darkened as he stepped back, his gaze raking over your body like he was memorizing every inch of you. 

“Spread your legs,” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You obeyed, your thighs parting slowly, revealing the slickness between them. Tony groaned, his hands gripping your knees as he pulled you closer to the edge of the hood. His lips curled into a wicked smirk as he leaned in, his breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh. “So fucking wet for me,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire. “You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?”

You nodded, your breath catching as his tongue flicked out, tasting you for the first time. His hands tightened on your thighs, his grip firm but not painful, as he devoured you with an intensity that left you trembling. His tongue moved in slow, deliberate circles, teasing and taunting as he worked you into a frenzy. “Oh my god, Tony,” you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer.

He chuckled against you, the vibrations sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. “You taste so good,” he murmured, his lips brushing against you as he spoke. “I could do this all day.”

“Please,” you begged, your hips rocking against his face as the pressure built inside you. “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t. Instead, he increased the pace, his tongue driving into you with a rhythm that had you seeing stars. Your back arched off the hood of the car, your bonnet slipping slightly as you writhed beneath him. “Tony, I—I’m gonna—” The words caught in your throat as the first wave of pleasure crashed over you, your body shuddering as he continued to work you through it.

When he finally pulled away, his lips glistening with your arousal, he looked up at you with a satisfied grin. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you come,” he said, his voice husky with need. 

“But I’m not done with you yet.”

Before you could respond, he flipped you over, your stomach pressed against the cool metal of the hood. His hands gripped your hips, lifting you slightly as he positioned himself behind you. “You ready for me?” he asked, his cock pressing against your entrance.

“Yes,” you breathed, your body trembling with anticipation. “Please, Tony. Fuck me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. With a low groan, he slid into you, his cock stretching you in the most delicious way. Your hands gripped the edge of the hood, your knuckles turning white as he began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first. “God, you feel amazing,” he muttered, his hands moving to grip your ass as he picked up the pace.

The sound of skin meeting skin filled the garage, mingling with your moans and his grunts of pleasure. Tony’s hands were everywhere, gripping your hips, your ass, your thighs as he fucked you with an intensity that left you breathless. “You’re so tight,” he growled, his voice strained with effort. “I can’t get enough of you.”

“Harder,” you begged, your body craving more. 

“Please, Tony. Fuck me harder.”

He obliged, his thrusts becoming more forceful as he drove into you, the hood of the car creaking beneath your combined weight. One of his hands slid around your waist, his fingers finding your clit as he continued to pound into you. “You like that?” he asked, his voice tinged with both amusement and desire.

You couldn’t even form a coherent response, your body too overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through you. “Tony, I’m—” The words were cut off by a cry of pleasure as you came again, your body tightening around him as waves of ecstasy crashed over you.

Tony groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his own release. “Fuck,” he muttered, his hand tightening on your hip as he buried himself deep inside you, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm.

For a moment, the only sound in the garage was the sound of your heavy breathing as you both came down from the high. Tony’s hands moved to your shoulders, gently pulling you up until your back was pressed against his chest. “You okay?” he asked, his voice soft as he brushed a kiss against your neck.

You nodded, your body still trembling slightly. “Yeah,” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. “That was… amazing.”

He chuckled, his arms wrapping around you as he held you close. “You’re amazing,” he corrected, his lips brushing against your ear. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to get any work done with you around.”

You turned to face him, a smirk playing on your lips. “You don’t,” you said, your tone teasing. “I’m your biggest distraction, remember?”

Tony laughed, his hands moving to cup your face as he kissed you deeply. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he murmured when he finally pulled away. “But next time, maybe we take it to the bedroom. I don’t think my car can handle much more of this.”

You laughed, your fingers trailing lazily down his chest. “Deal,” you said, your tone playful. “But no promises.”

He shook his head, placing a small kiss on your lips before a smile appeared on his lips. 

ᯓᡣ𐭩

Here’s a really small thing I wrote for Tony since I haven’t wrote anything for him in a while and in general. I hope you guys are well, I’m gonna try to at least post something once a week because of my adult life kicking me in the butt, I love you guys stay safe and healthy 😝

[TikTok Credits: Jaffyae on TikTok]

- I’ll see you soon ‹𝟹 ( Masterlist) ⋆˚࿔

[ironinc]

Can’t Look Away, Lingerie.ᝰ.ᐟ

Peter Parker x F!Black Reader. (Smut/NSFW)

˗ˏˋ You and your boyfriend Peter Parker are browsing through a lingerie store. Picking out pieces that catch your eye. After going to a private dressing room, he sits there watching you try things on— piece by piece, he can’t help the way his jeans are suddenly feeling so tight.

──── .✦

Very explicit & detailed. | A/N: I’m so sorry I haven’t posted in a while. Life was beating me up for a second😩. Peter is aged up to 23 in this, and you’re 21. | WC: 2,206

(Long strides definition: refers to taking large steps when walking or running, covering more ground with each step. Accentuating definition: To make more noticeable or prominent.)

⋆˙⟡

It started innocently enough. You’d just gotten your hair done that morning, the silk press smooth and gleaming under the sun’s soft light. It’s perfect for the winter time. He’d noticed it immediately, his fingers brushing against the nape of your neck as he leaned in to whisper, “You look gorgeous.” The compliment sent a shiver down your spine, but you’d brushed it off with a playful smile, and a sweet “Thank you handsome.” pretending it didn’t affect you as much as it did.

The lingerie store wasn’t part of the plan. You’d passed it on your way to grab something to sweet to drink, the window display catching your eye. He’d noticed your lingering glance and, without a word, steered you inside. “Let’s see what they have,” he said, his tone casual, but the look in his eyes told a different story.

Inside, the store was a maze of delicate fabrics and seductive designs. He moved through the aisles with a confidence that surprised you, his fingers trailing over straps and lace as if he knew exactly what he was looking for.

His hand brushes against yours as you both reach for the same piece—a delicate black corset with intricate lace detailing with a matching thong. His dark blue shirt clings to his muscles, the fabric taut across his broad shoulders, and you can’t help but let your eyes linger for a moment too long.

“This one,” he says, his voice low and steady, his fingers grazing over the fabric. “I want to see you in this.”

You feel a sudden heat in your cheeks as you nod, unable to form words. The worker at the counter eyes you both with a knowing smile, handing you a key to the private dressing room at the back of the store. “Take your time,” she says, her tone light but suggestive.

As you step into the small, softly lit room, Peter closes the door behind you, the click of the lock sending a jolt of anticipation through your body. 

He sits on the comfy bench, his blue jeans perfectly fitted, his legs spread just enough to make your breath hitch. His eyes are on you, dark and focused.

“Show me,” he commands, his voice a low rumble that makes your knees weak.

You turn your back to him, pulling off your sweater and letting it fall to the floor. His gaze burns against your skin as you hook your fingers into the waistband of your jeans, sliding them down your legs. You’re acutely aware of the silence, broken only by the soft rustle of fabric and the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

You reach for the corset, the cool silk sliding against your skin as you fasten it around your torso. The sensation of being laced up, of the fabric tightening around you, sends a thrill through your body. Not forgetting to put on the matching silk thong that came with it. You glance over your shoulder, catching his expression—his jaw is clenched, his eyes narrowed with desire.

“Turn around.” He says, his voice stern and a bit low.

You comply, your breath catching as his eyes rake over you. The corset hugs your curves perfectly, accentuating every inch of your body. 

He leans forward, his hands resting on his knees, fingers twitching as if he’s resisting the urge to touch you. “Fuck,” he mutters, his voice thick. 

“You look…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, but he doesn’t need to. The way he’s looking at you says it all. His gaze drops to your hips, to the silk matching panties you’re wearing, and you can see the bulge in his jeans growing more pronounced. You swallow hard, and your mouth suddenly dry.

“What do you think?” you ask, your voice trembling just slightly.

He doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he stands, closing the distance between you in two long strides. His hands grip your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you closer. “You’re killing me,” he growls, his breath hot against your ear. “You know that, right?”

You can feel the heat of his body, the hardness of his chest pressing against you. His lips brush against your neck, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. “Peter…” you whisper, but he cuts you off with a sharp tug on your hair, tilting your head back to expose your throat.

“I didn’t say you could say my name,” he says, his voice a low, calming tone. His other hand slides down your back, over the curve of your ass, and you can’t suppress the moan that escapes your lips. “You’re so fucking wet for me already, aren’t you?”

You nod, unable to speak, your body trembling with anticipation. His fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down in one swift motion. The cool air against your skin makes you gasp, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of his palm as he cups you, his fingers sliding between your folds.

“Fuck,” he mutters again, feeling how wet you are. “You’re dripping for me.”

His fingers move with purpose, teasing and stroking, driving you to the edge. You bite your lip to stifle a cry, your hands gripping his shoulders for support. “Quiet,” he commands, his voice firm. “We’re in public, remember?”

The reminder sends a thrill through you, the danger of being caught only heightening your arousal. His fingers continue their torturous rhythm, and you can feel yourself growing wetter, your body responding to his every touch. “That’s it,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. “Let me hear you.”

You can’t hold back any longer. A soft moan escapes your lips, and he rewards you with a deeper stroke, his fingers curling inside you. Your knees buckle, but he holds you up, his strength keeping you upright. “You’re so fucking tight,” he growls, his voice rough with desire. “I can’t wait to feel you around me.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, your body aching for more. He pulls his fingers away, and you whimper at the loss, but he doesn’t leave you waiting for long. His hands move to his belt, unbuckling it with practiced ease. The sound of his zipper going down is loud in the small room, and your breath catches as he pushes his jeans down just enough to free his cock.

He’s already hard, his length straining against his boxers, and when he finally pulls them down, you can’t tear your eyes away. He’s thick, his cock twitching with need, and pre cum.

You can feel a fresh wave of wetness between your thighs. “Fuck me,” he growls, his hands gripping your hips. “Now.”

You don’t need to be told twice. He sits back on the bench and you follow. Straddling his lap, you reach for him, your fingers wrapping around his length, guiding him to your entrance. The tip of his cock presses against you, and you both let out a simultaneous gasp as he pushes inside. 

He’s big, stretching you in the best way possible, and you have to bite your lip to keep from crying out.

He doesn’t give you time to adjust, though. His hands grip your hips tightly as he thrusts into you, his cock filling you completely. 

The sensation is overwhelming, and you can’t help but moan, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Fuck,” he growls, his voice strained. 

“You feel so fucking good baby.”

His hips move with a rhythm that’s almost brutal, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. You can feel the tension building in your body, your muscles tightening as so much pleasure washes over you. 

His grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as he fucks you harder, faster.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he mutters, his breath hot against your neck. “I can feel you creaming on my cock mama.”

The words send a fresh wave of arousal through you, your body responding to his every word, every touch. You can feel yourself getting closer, the pressure building inside you until it’s almost unbearable. “I’m close,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

He doesn’t respond with words, but his thrusts become even more relentless, driving you insane.

-

Then… the door handle rattles, sharp and insistent, breaking through the haze of pleasure that’s consumed you both. Your body tenses, your breath catching in your throat as the sound echoes in the small, intimate space. But he doesn’t stop. Not for a second. His hips keep moving, his cock driving into you with a rhythm that feels almost primal, his grip on your hips tightening as if to anchor you both in the moment.

“Whoever it is, they can wait,” he growls, his voice low and rough, like gravel scraping against your skin. “You’re too fucking good to stop now.” His words are a command, a demand, and they send a shiver down your spine. You can feel the heat of his body pressing against yours, the sweat beading on his skin as he fucks you harder, deeper.

The sound of the door handle rattling again fills the room, louder this time, more urgent. Your heart pounds in your chest, a mix of fear and exhilaration coursing through you. The idea of being caught, of someone walking in and seeing you like this, only heightens your arousal. You can feel yourself getting wetter, your body responding to the danger, to the thrill of it all.

“She’s going to hear us,” you whisper, your voice trembling, though you’re not sure if you’re warning him or begging him to keep going.

He lets out a low, dark chuckle, the sound vibrating against your skin. “Let her hear baby,” he says, his voice dripping with dominance. “Let her know how fucking good you feel, how you’re creaming on my cock right now.”

His words are filthy, raw, and they make your body clench around him, your walls tightening as if trying to pull him even deeper. He groans, a deep, guttural sound that seems to come from the very depths of his chest. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he mutters, his hips slamming into you with a force that leaves you breathless.

The sound of the door handle rattling again, louder this time, pulls you back to the reality of the situation. Your eyes dart toward the door, your body stiffening with the fear of being caught. But he doesn’t stop. If anything, he fucks you even harder, his cock pounding into you with a rhythm that’s almost punishing.

“Stop worrying about them,” he says, his voice firm, commanding. “Focus on me. Focus on how good I’m making you feel.”

His words are like a spell, pulling you back into the moment, into the pleasure that’s coursing through your body. You can feel it building inside you, the pressure growing with each thrust, each word, each touch. Your breath comes in short, ragged gasps, your body trembling as your orgasm starts to crest, threatening to pull you under.

“That’s it,” he growls, his voice rough with desire. 

“Let go, come for me, my pretty girl.”

His words are all it takes to push you over the edge. Your body tightens around him, your walls clenching as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. You bite down on your lip, trying to stifle the moan that threatens to escape, but it’s no use. The sound slips out, low and guttural, as your orgasm consumes you.

He doesn’t slow down, doesn’t give you a moment to recover. His thrusts become even more relentless, his cock driving into you with a force that leaves you gasping for air. You can feel him getting closer, his rhythm becoming more erratic, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he mutters, his voice strained. “I’m gonna come.”

His words send a fresh wave of arousal through you, your body responding to the sound of his voice, to the way he’s fucking you, to the way he’s claiming you. You can feel his cock pulsing inside you, his body tensing as he buries himself deep, his release flooding you, filling you completely.

For a moment, neither of you moves. The only sound in the room is the sound of your breathing, heavy and labored. But then the door handle rattles again, louder this time, more insistent, pulling you both back to the reality of the situation.

He pulls out of you slowly, his breath still coming in short, ragged gasps, his body trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm. You can feel his cum dripping out of you, a reminder of what just happened, of how good he made you feel.

“We need to get dressed,” he says, his voice low and smooth, though there’s a hint of amusement in his tone. “Before someone actually walks in.”

You nod, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm, your mind still hazy with pleasure. But as you start to move, to reach for your clothes, you can’t help but glance at him, at the way his body looks in the dim light of the dressing room. His muscles are still taut, his chest rising and falling with each breath, his jeans hanging low on his hips.

“You’re not done yet,” he says, his voice low and dangerous, a smirk playing on his lips. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your body responding to his words, to the promise in his voice. You can feel the thrill of it, the danger, the excitement, coursing through you, and you know that no matter what happens next, you’re his. Completely, utterly, his.

After getting dressed and opening the door, you both find yourselves face-to-face with a store worker checking in on you, just making sure everything is okay considering the soundproof walls. The tension between you and Peter is palpable as you both share a secret smile.

You end up buying the corset and matching underwear. The anticipation between you grows as you both leave the store, knowing you'll both get to see the final result later that night and finish what was started. 

How do you guys feels about it 😩 he’s such bf material I’m sick. Please let me know if yall have any requests! I love you guys so much! Thank you for 160+ followers and the love on my last post <333

(Credits: Cherry.Editor on TikTok) I love their edits so much wth-

- I’ll see you soon ‹𝟹 (MasterList) ⋆˚࿔

[ironinc]

Distracted.ᝰ.ᐟ

Peter Parker x F!Black Reader. (Smut/NSFW)

˗ˏˋ You decided to take a break from your day and play a online game with your friends, but before you can even start, it's impossible to concentrate when your boyfriend, Peter Parker, is being so distracting. He offers to let you sit on his lap while you play, not realizing his intentions aren't nearly as innocent as he pretends they are.

──── .✦

Very explicit & detailed. | A/N: Posting back to back since I just posted a story about someone that wasn’t in the marvel universe! Also Peter is aged up to 22 in this, and you’re 21. | WC: 2,187

(Sauntering definition: walk in a slow, relaxed manner, without hurry or effort:)

✮⋆˙

The hum of your gaming PC filled the room, the monitor's glow casting a soft light over your desk. You adjusted your bonnet, pulling it down a little as you settled into the chair, your boyfriend’s oversized shirt billowing around your thighs. 

Peter—your Peter—leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, that infuriating smirk playing on his lips. He was wearing a plain white wife beater and grey sweatpants, the fabric clinging to his muscular frame in a way that made your breath hitch. His thighs—God, his thighs—were on full display, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip as your eyes lingered on them.

“You sure you’re not just stalling so you can keep staring at me?” he teased, his voice low and amused.

You rolled your eyes, though your cheeks flushed. “I’m not stalling. I’m warming up.” You gestured to the screen where your character stood idle in the game lobby, your friends already chiming in over the headset. “Besides, if you’re just going to stand there and look all… that, then maybe you should leave me alone.”

Peter chuckled, pushing off the doorframe and sauntering toward you. Sauntering. Because of course, he did. He rested his hands on the back of your chair, leaning down until his breath ghosted over your ear. “You’re the one who couldn’t stop talking about my thighs this morning,” he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “Now you’re kicking me out?”

You swallowed hard, trying to focus on the screen. “I’m trying to play a game, Peter.”

He hummed, his lips brushing against your neck. 

“I’ve got a better game for you.”

Before you could protest, his hands were on your waist, lifting you effortlessly out of the chair. You let out a small yelp, your hands flying to his shoulders as he settled into the seat and pulled you onto his lap. The heat of his body seeped through the thin fabric of your shirt, and you could already feel his arousal pressing against you.

“Peter,” you hissed, glancing at the monitor where your friends were still chatting, oblivious. 

“I’m live. They can hear me.”

“Then don’t make too much noise,” he said, his voice dripping with mischief. His hands slid down to your hips, pulling you closer until you could feel the hard length of him against your bare core. “Just sit on my lap while you play. I promise I won’t move.”

You shot him a skeptical look, but the way his pupils were dilated, the way his breath hitched as you shifted slightly—God, you didn’t stand a chance. “Fine,” you muttered, reaching for the keyboard. “But if you ruin my game, I’m kicking you out for real.”

He grinned, his hands resting lightly on your thighs. “Deal.”

You unmuted your mic, trying to ignore the way Peter’s warmth felt against you. “Sorry, guys. Had to adjust something,” you said, your voice steady despite the flush creeping up your neck.

“You good?” one of your friends asked.

“Yeah, all good,” you replied, focusing on the screen. For a moment, it almost worked. You were able to push Peter’s presence to the back of your mind—until his hands started to wander. His fingers traced slow, teasing patterns up your thighs, and you could feel him growing harder beneath you.

“Peter,” you whispered, your voice tight. “You promised.”

“I’m not moving,” he said innocently, though the smirk in his voice betrayed him. His hands slid under the hem of your shirt, brushing against your bare skin.

You bit your lip, trying to concentrate on the game, but it was impossible with his fingers inching closer to where you wanted them most. 

You quickly muted your mic, turning to glare at him. “You said you wouldn’t move.”

“Technically, I said I wouldn’t move,” he said, his hands cupping your ass. “You can move if you want.”

You groaned, your head falling back against his shoulder. “This is not fair.”

“Life’s not fair,” he said, his lips trailing along your neck. His hips shifted slightly, and you couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped your lips. 

“But I can be generous.”

You shivered as one of his hands slid between your legs, his fingers parting your folds with practiced ease. “Peter—” you started, but your voice broke off into a moan as his fingers found your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles.

“Shh,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re still muted, right?”

You nodded, though you could barely think straight. His fingers moved with a precision that left you breathless, your hips rocking against his hand as you tried to stifle your moans.

“Good,” he said, his voice dark with desire. His other hand moved to grip your hip, guiding you to grind against him. “But I think we can make this more fun.”

Before you could protest, he unmuted your mic, his fingers still working their magic. “What’s the plan, team?” you asked, your voice trembling as you tried to focus on the game.

“Are you okay?” one of your friends asked, her voice laced with concern. “You sound… off.”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, though your voice hitched as Peter’s fingers pushed inside you, curling in just the right way.

“Just—uh—got a cramp.”

Peter chuckled softly, his lips brushing against your neck. “Cramp, huh?” he whispered, his fingers increasing their pace.

You bit your lip, trying to keep your breathing steady. “Yeah, just—need to stretch.”

“Well, hurry up,” another friend chimed in. “We’ve got a raid to finish.”

“On it,” you said, though your vision was starting to blur as Peter’s fingers worked you closer and closer to the edge.

“You’re doing so good,” he murmured, his voice thick with praise. “But I think you can take more.”

You barely had time to process his words before he was lifting you slightly, his free hand pulling his sweatpants down just enough to free his cock. He positioned you over him, the tip brushing against your slick entrance. 

“Peter,” you gasped, your hands gripping the edge of the desk. “You’re going to get us caught.”

“Then don’t make it obvious,” he said, his voice low and commanding. He lowered you onto him slowly, inch by agonizing inch, until you were seated fully in his lap.

You whimpered, your head falling back against his shoulder. “Fuck.”

“That’s the plan,” he said, his hands gripping your hips. He started to rock you against him, the pace slow and deliberate, but enough to make your toes curl. “But let’s see how quiet you can be.” 

You muffled a moan against your hand, trying to focus on the screen where your friends were still strategizing. But it was impossible—the way he filled you, the way his hands held you in place, the way his breath hitched every time you clenched around him—it was all too much.

“You’re doing so good,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire. “But I think we can push you a little more.”

He increased the pace, his hips meeting yours with a force that left you breathless. You quickly muted your mic again, unable to hold back the moan that escaped your lips.

“Peter,” you gasped, your hands gripping the desk for support.

“You’re going to make me—”

“Go ahead pretty,” he growled, his hands tightening on your hips. “Come for me, baby. Let me feel you.”

You couldn’t hold back anymore—the tension coiled in your core snapped, and you came with a muffled cry, your body shuddering against his. He followed soon after, his hips stuttering as he filled you, his breath hot against your neck.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was your ragged breathing. Then, Peter unmuted your mic, his voice calm and steady. “You good, mama?”

You shot him a glare, though your legs were still trembling. “Yeah,” you said, your voice surprisingly steady. “Just… stretching.”

Peter’s hands slide up your thighs, his grip firm as he lifts you off his lap with ease. The sudden shift leaves you momentarily disoriented, but before you can protest, he leans you forward over the desk, your palms pressing into the cool surface. The game is still running, and the chatter of your friends faints through the headset, but your focus is entirely on him.

“Shh,” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear as he moves behind you. The sound of his sweatpants sliding down to his ankles sends a shiver through you. His hands grip your hips, adjusting your position until your left leg is propped up on the desk, giving him better access. He could see how his cum was slowly dripping out of you. Making him ‘Tsk’ at the sight. 

The position is vulnerable, exposing, and intensely arousing.

His hand comes down on your ass in a sharp slap, the sound louder than you expected. You gasp, your body jerking forward, but his other hand holds you in place. “Peter—” you start, but he cuts you off with another slap, the sting making your breath hitch.

“Quiet,” he murmurs, his voice low and commanding. His cock slides between your thigh, already hard and demanding. “Let’s see how quiet you can be now. And this time, you can’t mute the mic. Let them hear you moan.”

Your heart races as he positions himself, the head of his cock teasing your entrance. You glance at the screen, where your friends’ avatars are moving around, oblivious to what’s happening. Your mic is still unmuted, and the thought of them hearing you—really hearing you—sends a jolt of both fear and excitement through you.

Peter doesn’t give you time to adjust. He pushes into you in one smooth, unrelenting motion, filling you completely. You bite your lip to stifle a moan, but it slips out anyway, a soft, breathy sound that makes his grip on your hips tighten.

“That’s it,” he growls, his voice rough with need. 

He pulls back almost all the way before thrusting into you again, the force of it making your arms tremble. “Let them hear. Let them know who’s making you feel this good.”

You try to stay quiet, but it’s impossible. Every thrust wrings another sound from you, a mix of moans and whimpers that you can’t suppress. 

Your friends’ voices chatter in the background, oblivious, but you can’t focus on the game anymore. All you can focus on is Peter, his cock pounding into you, his hands gripping your hips like he’s afraid you’ll pull away.

“Peter—” you gasp, your voice trembling.

“Say my name again,” he demands, his pace relentless. “Louder.”

“Peter,” you moan, your voice breaking as he hits a spot that makes your legs shake. You can hear it faintly through the headset, your moan carrying over the mic, and you freeze for a moment, wondering if your friends heard.

But Peter doesn’t stop. If anything, he seems more determined, his thrusts growing harder, faster. “Again,” he growls, his hand sliding around to rub your clit in tight, rhythmic circles. “Let them hear you.”

“Peter!” you cry out, your voice louder this time, and you can’t bring yourself to care if your friends hear. The pleasure is too much, too intense, and you’re teetering on the edge of another orgasm.

His name spills from your lips over and over as he fucks you, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. His fingers circle your clit faster, matching the rhythm of his hips, and you can feel the tension building, coiling tighter and tighter until it snaps.

You come with a cry, your body shuddering as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. Peter groans, his hips stuttering as he follows you over the edge, his cock pulsing inside you as he fills you with his release.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is your labored breathing and the faint chatter of your friends through the headset. Then, Peter leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. “Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction.

You’re still catching your breath when one of your friends speaks up, her voice concerned. 

“Hey, you okay? You’re being really quiet.”

Peter smirks, his hands still on your hips. “Answer her,” he whispers, his voice teasing.

You hesitate, your cheeks burning, but you can’t bring yourself to lie. “Yeah,” you manage, your voice shaky but steady enough. “Just… got distracted for a second.”

Peter chuckles softly, his hands sliding up your sides. 

You took your left leg off the desk, now standing in front of your monitors. He took a couple of wet wipes out of your desk drawer to clean you up. 

“Distracted, huh?” he murmurs, his tone playful. 

You look behind you, and he's silently laughing at your 'plain excuses.'

"Shh," he hushes you with a sly grin. "You can lock in now."

He starts rubbing your bare ass gently, his touch sending chills down your spine. Softly, he kisses your skin, his lips leaving a trail of desire in their wake.

Then, in a voice that's both tender and teasing, he whispers, "God, I love you."

⋆˙⟡

OH LA LA LAAAAA😝😝 I loved writing this so much I could SCREAM!! I hope you all are doing well and enjoyed it!

(Credits: spiderevans on TikTok)

- I’ll see you soon ‹𝟹 (MasterList) ⋆˚࿔

[ironinc]

Hey 🤗✨ it's me again with another request! Recently, I've been obsessed with a song called "Out of Time" by The Weeknd. Could you write something that's based off that! It could be paired with anyone!

Out Of Time.ᝰ.ᐟ

Chris Sturniolo x F!Black Reader. (Smut/NSFW)

˗ˏˋ After a broken relationship with your ex, who cited the difficulties of balancing a relationship due to his work & commitment issues, you found yourself heartbroken for months. However, fate had another surprise in store for you: the arrival of a new, even better man (Chris Sturniolo) into your life. But the question lingers: how will your ex handle this unexpected twist of fate and your new relationship?

──── .✦

Very explicit & detailed. | A/N: I listened to the song and that’s the concept 😝 So you can replace the new love interest with whoever if you don’t like the love interest. But in this instance, I’m going to use ‘Chris Sturniolo’ since my best friend likes him. You are 21, Chris in this is 22!

I also want to say thank you guys so much for 111 followers 😖 I’m so thankful for all of y’all support!!/&/& And of course- thank you for requesting something so good again- I love your mine GAHH. You can make the ex look like anyone! In my mind he looks like Tom holland. | WC: 3,032

✮⋆˙

The soft hum of conversation fills the air as you sit across from him—a man who’s made it his mission to erase every trace of your ex from your heart. His name is Chris Sturniolo, and he’s everything your ex wasn’t. Confident. Present. Devoted. The kind of man who doesn’t shy away from commitment or responsibility. His hand grips yours across the table, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your skin. His eyes, a light shade of blue, lock onto yours, and you feel the weight of his adoration.

“You look stunning tonight,” Chris murmurs, his voice low and smooth. His gaze drifts to the French curl braids cascading down your shoulders, the way your fitted dress hugs every curve of your body, and your white French tip nails that tap lightly against the stem of your wine glass. 

He’s the kind of man who notices every detail, who spoils you with gifts, with attention, with everything.

You smile, a soft, knowing curve of your lips. 

“You say that every time we go out.”

“Because it’s true every time,” he counters, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re the most beautiful woman in this room. Hell, in this city.”

The compliment warms you, but it also feels like a reminder of how far you’ve come. How much you’ve healed since Adrian. Since the nights you spent crying over a man who couldn’t—or wouldn’t—choose you over his work and of course his tacky commitment issues. Chris is different. He’s here. He’s present. And you’re beginning to believe that maybe, just maybe, you deserve this.

But then, as the waiter approaches your table, you freeze.

It’s him.

Your ex, named Adrian.

Your breath catches in your throat as he steps forward, dressed in the restaurant’s uniform, holding a tray of bread with a practiced ease that makes you wonder how long he’s been planning this. His eyes, those damn eyes, meet yours, and for a moment, it’s like no time has passed at all.

“Good evening,” he says, his voice steady, but you can hear the faint tremor beneath it. “Can I start you off with some bread?”

Chris nods, seemingly oblivious to the tension crackling between you and Adrian. “Sure, thanks.”

Adrian sets the bread basket down on the table, his gaze never leaving yours. You want to look away, to focus on Chris, but you can’t. Not when Adrian’s looking at you like that. Not when his presence alone is enough to unravel everything you’ve built with Chris.

Chris excuses himself to use the restroom, and the moment he’s out of sight, Adrian sets down his tray and steps closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“We need to talk.”

You shake your head, your fingers tightening around your wine glass. “No, Adrian. We don’t. What’s done is done.”

His jaw tightens, and you can see the pain in his eyes, the regret that he’s been carrying for months. “I know I messed up,” he says, his voice raw. “I know I hurt you. And I’ve regretted it every single day since. But I can’t keep pretending that I’m okay with this. With him.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest.

“You don’t get to decide what’s okay for me anymore, Adrian. You made your choice. And now I’ve made mine.”

He steps closer, his hand reaching out to brush against yours, but you pull away, the sting of his touch too much to bear. “I miss you,” he confesses, his voice breaking. “I miss us. I know I can’t promise you the kind of life he can, but I love you. And I’d do anything to prove that to you.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you blink them away, refusing to let him see how much his words still affect you. “You had your chance, Adrian. And you let me go. You don’t get to come back now and pretend like you can fix what you broke.”

He looks at you, his eyes filled with a longing that makes your chest ache. “I can’t keep you from loving him,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “You made up your mind. I’m here for you... but I’m clearly out of time.”

The weight of his confession hangs in the air between you, thick and suffocating. You want to say something, anything, but the words stick in your throat. Before you can respond, Chris returns, his hand resting on the back of your chair as he slides back into his seat.

“Everything okay?” he asks, his brow furrowing as he glances between you and Adrian.

You force a smile, nodding as you take a sip of your wine. “Everything’s fine.”

Adrian steps back, his mask of professionalism slipping back into place. “Enjoy your evening,” he says, his voice steady, but you can hear the undercurrent of pain beneath it.

As he walks away, you can’t help but wonder if you made the right choice. Suppose Chris’s love is enough to erase the hold Adrian still has on your heart. But then Chris’s hand finds yours again, his touch grounding you, reminding you of why you chose him in the first place.

“Hey,” he says, his voice soft. “You’re quiet. Everything really okay?”

You nod, squeezing his hand. “Yeah,” you say, your voice steady. “Everything’s perfect.”

But as the night wears on, you can’t shake the feeling that something—or someone—is about to change everything.

── .✦

The limo door shuts with a muted thud, sealing you and Chris inside the plush, dimly lit interior. 

The hum of the engine vibrates faintly beneath you as the car pulls away from the restaurant. 

Chris’s hand rests on your thigh, his fingers tracing slow, possessive circles. You try to focus on his touch, but your mind keeps drifting back to Adrian—his words, his regret, the way his voice cracked when he said he still loved you.

“You’re still… quiet,” Chris murmurs, his deep blue eyes studying you with an intensity that makes your stomach flip. His voice is calm but laced with a concern that feels almost… possessive. 

“What’s on your mind?”

You swallow, your nails nervously picking at the edge of the leather seat. Should you tell him? Will it ruin this moment? Or worse—will it make him angry? But the way he’s looking at you, so present, so devoted, makes it impossible to lie.

“That was Adrian,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “He… he said he still loves me.”

Chris’s other hand gripped his Rolex watch, his knuckles whitening for a fraction of a second before he forced his hand to relax. His jaw clenches, but when he looks at you, his expression is soft—though there’s a fire in his eyes that wasn’t there before.

“Adrian,” he says, his voice low and measured, “doesn’t deserve you. He had his chance, and he let you go. I’m not going to let him win. Not now. Not ever.”

His words are confident, almost harsh, but there’s a tenderness in them that makes your chest ache. He leans in closer, his breath warm on your skin as he brushes a braid away from your face. 

“Tonight,” he says, his voice dropping to a near growl, “I’m going to show you exactly how much I want you. How much I’m willing to fight for you.”

Before you can respond, his lips are on yours, his kiss demanding and desperate. His tongue slips into your mouth, claiming you with a hunger that leaves you breathless. Your hands clutch at his suit jacket, pulling him closer as the world outside the limo fades away.

When he finally pulls back, his eyes are dark with desire. “You’re mine,” he whispers, his voice rough. “And I’m going to make sure you never forget that.”

The limo pulls up to his penthouse, and he doesn’t wait for the driver to open the door. He’s out in an instant, pulling you with him, his hand firmly gripping yours as he leads you inside. The elevator ride is a blur, his body pressed against yours, his lips tracing a searing path down your neck.

When the doors ping open, he scoops you up effortlessly, carrying you into the lavish living room.

The soft glow of the city lights filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting the room in a warm, romantic haze. But Chris isn’t in the mood for romance. His movements are possessive, almost rough, as he sets you down on the plush couch and kneels between your legs.

“Chris—” you start, but he silences you with a look, his gaze burning into yours.

“Let me remind you,” he says, his voice low and commanding, “just how much I want you.”

His hands slide up your thighs, pushing your dress up until it bunches around your waist. His fingers hook into the delicate lace of your panties, and with a quick tug, they’re gone. His breath hitches as he takes in the sight of you, his eyes darkening with lust.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire.

And then his mouth is on you, his soft tongue swirling around your clit with a skill that makes your back arch off the couch. Your hand's fist in his curly hair, pulling him closer as waves of pleasure crash over you. He doesn’t let up, his tongue and fingers working in perfect harmony, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

“Chris,” you moan, your voice trembling with need.

“Please—I can’t—”

But he doesn’t stop. His grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place as he devours you, his tongue relentless. When you finally shatter, your body convulsing with pleasure, he doesn’t pull away. He stays with you, drawing out every last shuddering wave until you’re boneless and breathless.

He leans back, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “That,” he says, his voice rough and filled with pride, “was just the beginning.”

Before you can catch your breath, he’s pulling you to your feet, his hands roaming your body as he leads you toward the bedroom. The way he looks at you—like you’re the only woman in the world—makes your heart race. But as you follow him, the image of Adrian’s broken expression flashes in your mind, and a pang of guilt twists in your chest.

“Chris,” you say softly, stopping just outside the bedroom door. He turns to look at you, his brow furrowing in concern.

“What is it sweetheart?” he asks, his voice softening.

You open your mouth to speak, but the words stick in your throat. How do you tell him that, despite everything, Adrian’s confession has left you unsettled? That, for just a moment, you wondered if you made the right choice.

But before you can find the words, Chris’s hands are on your face, his thumbs brushing away tears you didn’t even realize were falling. “Hey,” he says, his voice gentle. “You’re with me now. You don’t have to think about him. Not tonight. Not ever.”

His words are reassuring, but there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes—something that looks almost like fear. Fear of losing you. Fear of not being enough.

“I… I just need to—” you start, but he cuts you off with a kiss, his lips soft but insistent.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmurs against your lips. “Let me show you how much you mean to me.”

And as he leads you into the bedroom, his hands, lips, and body promising you everything you’ve ever wanted, you can’t help but wonder if you’re ready to let go of the past—or if Adrian’s confession has already changed everything.

── .✦

Chris’s hands glide over your body, his touch both possessive and tender as he undresses you. 

Piece by piece, your clothes fall to the floor, leaving you exposed to his heated gaze. His fingers trace the curves of your hips, his grip tightening as he lifts you effortlessly and places you on the edge of the bed. You feel the cool silk of the sheets against your skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth radiating from him.

He stands between your legs, his eyes locked on yours, and you can see the hunger in them—raw, unbridled, and entirely focused on you. His hands move to his belt, the sound of the buckle unfastening sending a shiver down your spine. 

His pants drop to the floor, and he kicks them aside without a second thought. His cock is already hard, and he strokes himself slowly, his eyes never leaving yours as if daring you to look away. His tip was a pretty light pink, while his length was the perfect size for you. You were in awe.

“God, you’re stunning,” he murmurs, his voice low and thick with desire. He leans down, his lips finding yours in a kiss that is both soft and demanding. His tongue brushes against yours, and you moan into his mouth as he pushes into you, filling you completely. The sensation is overwhelming, and your nails dig into his shoulders as he begins to move, his hips thrusting against yours with a rhythm that leaves you breathless.

His hands grip your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he fucks you hard and fast. The sound of your bodies meeting fills the room, and you can’t help but cry out as pleasure courses through you. He leans down, his lips finding your ear, and his breath is hot against your skin as he whispers, “I want to hear you scream my name.”

And you do. You scream it over and over, your voice breaking as pleasure overtakes you. His lips trail down your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin as he kisses a path to your breasts. His tongue flicks over your nipple, sucking it into his mouth, his other hand moving to rub your clit in time with his thrusts. You arch into him, your nails still digging into his back as waves of pleasure crash over you. He’s everywhere, his hands, his lips, his body surrounding you, claiming you.

Then he suddenly pulls out, his body trembling as he comes, his hot cum spilling onto your stomach. 

He leans down, his lips brushing against yours as he whispers, “I love you.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and raw, as you stare up at him, your heart racing. His eyes are soft now, the dominance replaced by something deeper, something vulnerable. 

“I love you too.” You replied back without even thinking, only feeling with your heart. 

He kisses you again, slow and tender, his hands cradling your face. “You’re mine,” he murmurs against your lips. “Always.”

You’re still catching your breath when the sound of his phone ringing breaks the silence. He groans, pulling away reluctantly as he grabs it from the nightstand. “Chris Sturniolo,” he answers, his voice steady despite the heaviness in the air. He listens for a moment, his brow furrowing. “I’ll be there. Give me fifteen minutes.”

He hangs up, turning back to you with a regretful smile. “I’m sorry, love. I have to take this call. Business never sleeps.” He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be back soon.”

You nod, watching as he cleans you up. He then puts on some new business formal clothes, and his movements are quick and efficient. He gives you one last kiss and a lingering look before disappearing out the door, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

The silence is deafening. You lie there, staring at the ceiling, Chris’s words still ringing in your ears. 

“I love you.” You want to believe it. You want to believe that this is real, that he’s everything you’ve been waiting for. But Adrian’s confession lingers in the back of your mind, his voice cracking with emotion as he told you he still loved you.

You sit up, your legs swinging over the edge of the bed until you get up to grab your bonnet from the nightstand and put it on.

The penthouse is quiet, the air heavy with the scent of sex and something deeper—something that feels a lot like uncertainty. You put on one of Chris’s shirts, the fabric soft against your skin as you walk into the living room.

The view from the floor-to-ceiling windows is breathtaking, the city lights twinkling like stars against the night sky. You sink into the plush couch, your mind racing. What do you want? What do you really want?

The sound of a key turning in the lock makes you jump. The door swings open, and Chris steps inside, his tie loosened and his hair slightly disheveled. He looks at you, his expression softening as he takes in the sight of you in his shirt.

“Couldn’t stay away,” he says, his voice low and husky as he crosses the room to join you on the couch. He pulls you into his arms, his lips finding yours in a slow, deep kiss. “I needed to come back to you.”

You melt into him, his warmth and presence grounding you as the world fades away. But even as his lips move against yours, a part of you can’t help but wonder—what if? What if Adrian was right? What if there’s still a chance?

Chris pulls back, his eyes searching yours. 

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” he asks, his voice soft but tinged with something you can’t quite place—fear? Jealousy?

You hesitate, your heart racing as you meet his gaze. “I… I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

He sighs, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You don’t have to know right now,” he says, his tone gentle but firm. “But I need you to know that I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. And I’ll fight for you, for us, no matter what it takes.”

His words are a balm, soothing the doubts that swirl in your mind. You lean into him, your head resting on his chest as his arms wrap around you. The steady beat of his heart is comforting, a reminder that he’s here, he’s real, and he’s yours—for now.

AYEEEE MUST BE THE MONEY!!!! 😝😝 I’m so obsessed with this I can’t even bare. I went to sleep and all I could think about was this story- I hope you guys like the twist of events and you ofc not falling for your ex’a words. Let me know if yall like this and possibly want more stories like this!

(Credits: lily.szn on TikTok)

- I’ll see you soon <3 (MasterList)⟢

[ironinc]

Heart In A Flux.ᝰ.ᐟ

Tony Stark x F!Black Reader. (Smut/NSFW)

˗ˏˋ Tony's always been protective of you, warning you about the guy you're set to marry. But you had never taken him seriously. Today, as you stand in your wedding dress, ready to walk down the aisle, the door suddenly opens and Tony steps in. He steps closer, a look of determination on his face as he tries to stop you from making the biggest mistake of your life.

⤷ Oneshot, explicit, oral, choking, breeding kink, very detailed so here’s the warning!

⤷ A/N: Guys I’m so sorry I haven’t been uploading recently. I was having a little writing block! So after this I’ll post another Peter Parker story. But I hope you guys forgive me and like this🙏🏽😖

⤷ Word count: 2,582

⤷ Special song to add spice: Champagne Coast by Blood Orange.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

The soft rustle of your ivory mermaid dress brushes against your legs as you stand in front of the mirror, your fingers nervously adjusting the delicate lace detailing along the bodice. The dress hugs your curves perfectly, the subtle shimmer of the fabric catching the light as you turn slightly. Your sew-in hairstyle cascades in soft waves down your back, the subtle scent of your perfume lingering in the air. You take a deep breath, trying to steady the fluttering in your chest. Today is supposed to be the happiest day of your life. So why does it feel like something’s off?

The door creaks open behind you, and for a moment, you think it’s your bridesmaid coming to check on you. But the air shifts, the heavy silence broken by the sound of confident footsteps. Your eyes meet Tony’s in the mirror’s reflection. His suit is impeccable, the crisp lines of his tailored jacket accentuating his broad shoulders. His expression is unreadable, but there’s a determination in his eyes that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Tony?” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“What are you doing here? The ceremony’s about to start.”

He steps closer, his shoes clicking against the floor with every step. “That’s exactly why I’m here.” His voice is low, almost a growl, and it sends a shiver down your spine. You turn to face him fully, your hands instinctively smoothing the fabric of your dress.

“You can’t just barge in here,” you say, though your voice falters. There’s something about the way he’s looking at you—like he’s trying to see straight through you, past the makeup and the dress and the carefully constructed façade of confidence.

“I can’t let you do this,” he says, taking another step forward. His presence is overwhelming, filling the room with a tension that’s almost palpable. “You’re making a mistake.”

You shake your head, forcing a laugh that sounds more nervous than you’d like. “Tony, this isn’t funny. I’m getting married. You’re too late.”

“Am I?” he challenges, his eyes narrowing. 

“Because I don’t see a ring on your finger yet.” 

His gaze drops to your hand, and you instinctively clench your fists, hiding the bare skin where the band should be.

“You’re being ridiculous,” you say, your voice rising slightly. “You don’t get to just show up and—”

Before you can finish, he’s in front of you, his hand cupping your cheek. His touch is electric, his fingers warm against your skin. “You’re not listening to me,” he says, his voice softening. “I’ve tried to warn you. I’ve tried to protect you. But you never listen.”

Your breath catches in your throat, his proximity making your head swim. “Tony, please—”

“No,” he says firmly, cutting you off. “This time, you’re going to hear me. You’re not marrying him. You’re not throwing away your life on someone who doesn’t deserve you.”

His words hit like a punch to the gut, and you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “You don’t get to decide that for me,” you say, your voice trembling.

“You don’t get to just—”

“I love you,” he interrupts, his voice raw with emotion. The words hang in the air between you, heavy and impossible to ignore. “I’ve loved you from the moment I first saw you. And I’ve been a fool for not saying it sooner.”

Your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest. The room spins, the weight of his confession pressing down on you. “Tony…”

His hand moves to your waist, pulling you closer until there’s barely any space between you. Your body presses against his, the heat of him seeping through the layers of fabric. “You were never supposed to be his,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear.

“You were always meant to be mine.”

You try to push him away, but your hands have a mind of their own, gripping the lapels of his jacket instead. “This is crazy,” you whisper, though your body betrays you, leaning into him. “We can’t do this.”

“Why not?” he challenges, his other hand sliding up your back, his fingers tangling in the soft waves of your hair. “Because it’s the wrong thing to do? Or because it’s exactly what you want?”

You open your mouth to argue, but his lips crash into yours before you can form a coherent thought. The kiss is firm and possessive, his tongue slipping past your lips to deepen it. A moan escapes you, your hands fisting in his jacket as he pulls you closer still.

His hand tightens in your hair, tilting your head back to give him better access.

You should stop this. You should push him away and walk out that door. But every fiber of your being is drawn to him, the years of unspoken tension finally boiling over. His lips trail down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that makes you gasp.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he growls against your skin, his hand sliding down to grip your hip. 

“Tell me to stop, and I will.”

But you can’t. The words won’t come, your body betraying you as you arch into him. His hand moves lower, hiking up your dress until his fingers brush against the thin fabric of your panties. You gasp, your legs instinctively parting as he slips a finger beneath the material, tracing your wetness.

“You’re already so ready for me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “You’ve been thinking about this as much as I have, haven’t you?”

You shake your head, but the way your body responds to his touch gives you away. He chuckles darkly, his fingers teasing you until you’re panting, your hips rocking against his hand. “You’re mine,” he says, his voice leaving no room for argument.

“Always have been. Always will be.”

And then he’s kneeling in front of you, his hands pushing your dress up to your hips. You stare down at him, your breath hitching as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down in one smooth motion. His eyes lock onto yours as he spreads your legs, his breath warm against your thighs.

“I’ve dreamed about this,” he admits, his voice low and husky. “About how perfect you’d taste.”

And then his mouth is on you, his tongue flicking against your clit in a way that makes you cry out. 

Your hands fumble for something to hold onto, finally gripping the edge of the vanity as he devours you.

His tongue is relentless, his fingers parting you to get deeper, to taste more of you.

Your hips buck against his mouth, your moans filling the room. He groans against you, the vibration sending shocks of pleasure through your body. “So fucking sweet,” he murmurs, his tongue circling your clit before dipping inside you again. “I could do this all day.”

“Tony,” you whimper, your thighs trembling as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. “I can’t—I’m going to—”

“Come for me, baby,” he orders, his voice firm but laced with something almost tender. And you do, your body convulsing as pleasure crashes over you in waves. He doesn’t stop, his tongue continuing to lap at you until you’re shaking.

“Tony, please,” you beg, your voice trembling with need. “I need you inside me. Please, fuck me.”

He pulls away from you, standing up and gripping your hips, turning you around to face the vanity. He presses himself against you, his cock pressing against your ass, and you can feel the heat radiating from him. He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. “Tell me you’re mine,” he growls, his voice filled with possessiveness. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you whisper, your voice filled with need.

He doesn’t wait any longer, gripping your hips and thrusting into you in one swift motion. You cry out, the sensation of him filling you almost too much to bear. He starts to move, his thrusts deep and hard, each one sending waves of pleasure through your body. You can feel the way he’s stretching you, filling you completely, and you moan with each thrust, your body arching into his.

Tony’s hands move up your body, one gripping your hip while the other wraps around your throat, holding you in place as he fucks you. Seeing everything in the vanity mirror made you squeeze tighter around him.

His lips were pressed against your ear, his breath hot as he whispered, “You feel so fucking good. So tight, so wet. I’m never letting you go.”

You can feel the tension building inside you, your body on the edge of ecstasy as Tony continues to thrust into you. His grip on your throat tightens, just enough to make your head spin, and you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

“Tony,” you gasp, your voice trembling with need. 

“I’m close. Please, don’t stop.”

“Come for me,” he growls, his voice commanding. 

“Come for me, baby. Let me feel you.”

His words are enough to push you over the edge, your body convulsing around him as you climax, your nails digging into the wall in front of you. 

Tony continues to thrust into you, his own climax approaching as he fucks you through your orgasm.

Making your cum easily shown on his dick with each thrust. 

“Fuck,” he groans, his thrusts becoming erratic as he feels himself getting closer. “I’m going to cum inside you. I’m going to fill you up, mark you as mine and you don’t have a choice.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, his hips slamming into yours one last time as he spills himself inside you, his cum filling you completely. 

You can feel the warmth spreading through you, marking you as his, and you moan softly, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Tony, still inside you, his lips makes their way to your neck. You both watching and he places soft kisses there. “You’re mine,” he murmurs, his voice filled with possessiveness. “Forever.”

You nod, your body still trembling as you lean into his touch. You can hear the sound of voices outside the door, the wedding party waiting for you, but at this moment, all you can think about is Tony. He’s all that matters.

── .✦

Then… there was a heavy knock on the door, insistent, breaking the spell of the moment. 

He quickly looked at the door, whispering “Stay quiet.” His voice was low and commanding, and you couldn’t help the shiver that ran through you.

“Ms.___? Are you okay in there?” The wedding planner’s voice was laced with concern, muffled through the door. You froze, your eyes darting to Tony, who stood tall and unflinching, his jaw set in determination.

The door flies open with a sharp bang, and the wedding planner stands frozen in the doorway, her mouth hanging open as she takes in the scene before her. Tony, still buried deep inside you, doesn’t even flinch. His eyes lock onto hers, dark and commanding, as he growls, “Leave us. She’s not marrying anyone today.”

The planner’s face flushes a deep crimson, her clipboard slipping from her fingers and clattering to the floor. She stammers, “B-but the ceremony—we’re—oh my God—” before backing out of the room and slamming the door shut.

The room is silent except for the sound of your heavy breathing. Tony’s grip on your hips tightens, and you feel him throb inside you, his breath hot against your neck. “Fuck,” he mutters, his voice low and ragged. “That was close.”

You can’t help the nervous laughter that bubbles up from your chest, even as your body trembles with the aftermath of what just happened. Tony slowly pulls out, and you feel the warm evidence of your encounter trickle down your thigh. Your dress falling down like nothing ever happened. He then fixes himself before he turns you around, his hands cradling your face as he presses his forehead against yours. 

“You're beautiful," he whispers tenderly. "I wouldn't want to be with anyone but you."

You smile , your heart pounding as you realize the gravity of what you’ve just done. The wedding dress, the church, the groom waiting at the altar—it all feels like a distant dream now. Tony’s lips crash onto yours, hungry and demanding, as if he needs to reaffirm his claim on you.

“We have to go,” you murmur against his mouth, your hands clutching at his shirt. “Before someone else comes in.”

Tony nods, his eyes scanning the room before he grabs your hand and pulls you toward the door. “Stay close to me,” he says, his voice low and urgent.

You follow him, your legs still shaky, as he leads you down the hall and out a side door. The cool evening air hits your skin, and you realize just how flushed and disheveled you must look.

Tony’s black car is parked nearby, and he quickly unlocks it, ushering you inside.

As he slides into the driver’s seat, his eyes meet yours, and there’s a flicker of something unreadable in them. “You’re sure about this?” he asks, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable.

You nod without hesitation. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

Tony’s lips curve into a small smile, and he starts the car, pulling away from the church with a speed that makes your heart race.

── .✦

The next month is a whirlwind of emotions. Tony doesn’t let you out of his sight for long, his obsession with you burning brighter than ever. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word feels like a reaffirmation of the choice you made—of the life you chose.

On the day of your wedding, the air is warm and the sky is clear. The ceremony is small, and intimate, with only a handful of close friends and family. 

Tony stands at the altar, his tall frame silhouetted against the golden light of the setting sun. He’s wearing a sleek black suit, his eyes never leaving yours as you walk down the aisle in a simple white dress.

When you reach him, he takes your hands in his, his grip firm and grounding. “You’re breathtaking,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.

The officiant begins the ceremony, but it feels like background noise compared to the intensity of Tony’s gaze. When it’s time to exchange vows, Tony’s voice is steady and unwavering.

“I’ve waited my whole life for you,” he says, his eyes locked on yours. “And now that I have you, I’m never letting you go.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you repeat your vows, your voice trembling with the weight of the moment. When the officiant finally declares you husband and wife, Tony pulls you into a kiss so deep and passionate that it feels like the world around you disappears.

The reception is a blur of laughter and dancing, but all you can think about is Tony. His hands on your waist, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers promises of what’s to come.

When it’s time to leave, Tony leads you to the car, his eyes dark with anticipation. “Ready?” he asks, his voice low and husky.

You nod, your heart racing as you slide into the passenger seat. The night is still young, and so is the rest of your life together.

…

Me and tumblr app got beef- why does it always want to NOT WORK WHEN I WANNA UPLOAD- anyways😒😒 I hope you guys liked this, it’s leading in a different direction but still!!!

(Credits: .starkzvsp on TikTok) *This audio makes me levitate😫

[bando--grand-scamyon]

If you [ b l a c k ] reblog this.

don’t care what shade just reblog.

[ironinc]

Bing Bong, Beer Pong.ᝰ.ᐟ

Peter Parker/Spider-Man x F!Black Reader. (Smut/NSFW)

˗ˏˋ You're at a frat party thrown by Sigma Nu, one of the most popular frats on campus at M.I.T. As you're mingling with the other students, you catch the eye of none other than Peter Parker, AKA Spider-Man. He's standing in the corner, nursing a drink, and you can't help but feel drawn to him. As the night goes on, you keep finding excuses to talk to him, and the chemistry between you is undeniable.

⤷ Oneshot, smut, sex, edging, oral?, very detailed so here’s the warning!

⤷ A/N: Here’s something small that I worked on for a couple of days. I got the frat idea from making an edit for my friend😭 As always Peter is aged up to 20 due to this taking place in college!

⤷ Word count: 3,369

⤷ Special song to add spice: Ken by Billie Eillsh

જ⁀➴

The bass thumped through the walls of the Sigma Nu frat house, making the floor vibrate beneath your feet. The air was thick with the smell of cheap beer, sweat, and a faint hint of weed. You adjusted your yellow tube top, the summer floral print clinging to your curves as you leaned against the makeshift beer pong table.

The rhinestones on your flip-flops caught the dim strobe lights, scattering tiny rainbows across the floor.

You were here for one reason—to let loose. Finals had been brutal, and you needed a night where your biggest worry was whether you’d sink or swish your next shot. You tilted your head back, laughing as your opponent, some guy with a backward hat, completely whiffed his throw. 

"Better luck next time, bro," you teased, your voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

That’s when you felt it—the weight of someone’s gaze on you. You turned, and there he was. Peter Parker. You’d seen him around campus—lanky, always carrying a worn backpack. But tonight, he looked different. His dark hair was slightly messy, and his fitted black shirt hugged his lean frame in a way that made your stomach flip. He was holding a red solo cup, but his attention wasn’t on the drink. It was on you.

"Hey," he said, his voice soft but cutting through the noise of the party like a knife. He stepped closer, and you caught a whiff of his cologne—something clean and earthy that made your pulse quicken. "You’re killing it at beer pong. Mind if I join?"

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on your lips. "Depends. Are you any good?"

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck in that nervous way of his. "I’ve been known to make a shot or two."

You nodded toward the ping pong balls. "Prove it."

The game started, and the tension between you was electric. Every time he leaned over the table to take a shot, you could see the muscles in his arms flex under his shirt. And every time you sank a ball, he’d shake his head, his eyes never leaving yours. "You’re good," he admitted after your third consecutive win. "Too good."

"Maybe you’re just bad," you shot back, grinning.

"Ouch," he said, clutching his chest in mock pain. 

"Guess I’ll have to redeem myself somehow."

"Good luck with that," you teased, taking a sip of your drink. The ice-cold beer did little to cool the heat rising in your chest.

The night went on, and the two of you kept finding excuses to stay near each other. When the music shifted to something slower, he leaned in, his voice low. "You know, you’re kind of hard to ignore."

Your breath hitched, but you played it cool. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"Take it however you want," he said, his eyes darkening.

You felt a shiver run down your spine. The party around you seemed to fade into the background, the noise replaced by the thundering of your own heartbeat. His gaze dropped to your lips, and for a moment, you thought he might kiss you right there. But instead, he stepped back, offering you his hand. "Want to get out of here? Somewhere quieter?"

You hesitated for only a second before placing your hand in his. His skin was warm, his grip firm but gentle. He led you through the crowd, his body shielding you from the chaos of the party. 

You could feel the eyes of other partygoers on you, but you didn’t care. All you cared about was the way his hand fit perfectly in yours.

He pushed open the door to a secluded room—a makeshift study, the desk cluttered with textbooks and empty cans. The moment the door clicked shut, the air between you shifted. He turned to face you, his eyes searching yours. 

"I’ve been wanting to do this all night," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper.

"Do what?" you asked, though you already knew the answer.

"This," he said, closing the distance between you. His lips brushed against yours, tentative at first, but when you didn’t pull away, he deepened the kiss. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. The kiss was hungry, desperate like he’d been holding back all night and couldn’t wait any longer.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. His tongue teased at your lips, and you opened for him, a moan escaping your throat as his hands roamed your body, tracing the curve of your hips, and the dip of your waist. Every touch sent sparks through you, igniting a fire that had been smoldering all night.

He broke the kiss, his breath ragged as he looked down at you. "I can’t stop thinking about you," he admitted, his voice thick with desire. 

"You’re all I’ve been able to think about."

"Then don’t stop," you whispered, your voice trembling as you pulled him back in.

His hands were everywhere, leaving trails of heat on your skin as he tugged at your tube top, exposing the swell of your breasts. He kissed down your neck, his lips leaving a searing path that made your knees weak. "You’re so beautiful," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot.

You reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside. The sight of his lean, muscular chest made your mouth water, and you ran your hands over his abs, feeling the way his muscles tensed under your touch. He groaned, his hands fumbling with the button of your jeans. "I need you," he said, his voice strained with want.

"Then take me," you whispered, your heart pounding in your chest.

He didn’t need to be told twice. He pushed your jeans down, his fingers trailing along the inside of your thighs as he knelt before you. "You’re perfect," he said, his breath hot against your skin. And then his mouth was on you, his tongue lapping at your core with a hunger that made your head spin.

Your hands gripped the edge of the desk as he worked you, his tongue flicking over your most sensitive spot with a precision that had you seeing stars. "Peter," you moaned, your voice breaking as the pleasure built inside you. 

"Please."

He stood, his eyes dark with lust as he pulled you into another deep kiss. You could taste yourself on his lips, and it only made you want him more. "I need to feel you," he said, his voice rough. "All of you."

You nodded, your breath coming in short gasps as he lifted you onto the desk, spreading your legs wide. He positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes locked on yours. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice filled with a tenderness that made your heartache.

As your gaze drifted down his body, you couldn't help but notice how incredibly thick his dick was. 

His tip was so beautiful, perfect, making your heart race and your mouth water. You couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to touch, to taste him and of course— to feel him inside of you.

"Stop talking," you said, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him closer.

He groaned as he thrust into you, his length stretching you in the most delicious way. You cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders as he began to move, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. "You feel so good," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "So fucking good."

"Harder," you pleaded, your voice trembling. He obliged, his hips snapping against yours with a force that made you see stars. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your moans and his growls of pleasure.

You could feel the heat building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter with every thrust. 

"Peter," you moaned, your voice breaking as the pleasure threatened to overwhelm you. "I’m close."

"Come on my dick baby, it’s all yours," he said, his voice rough with desire. "Let go."

And you did, your body convulsing as the orgasm ripped through you. He followed soon after, quickly his release filling you as he buried himself deep inside you. 

Thank god for birth control. 

He stayed inside you, his forehead resting against yours as you both caught your breath. 

"That was..." he trailed off, unable to find the words.

"Yeah," you agreed, your voice barely a whisper.

He pulled out slowly, wincing as he did so. "I can’t believe we just did that," he said, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Me neither," you admitted, your body still tingling from the pleasure.

He helped you off the desk, his hands lingering on your hips as he pulled you into a hug. "Can I see you again?" he asked, his voice sounding almost shy.

"You better," you said, looking up at him with a smile. "You owe me a rematch at beer pong."

He laughed, the sound making your heart skip a beat. "Deal." He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft kiss. "I’ll call you."

── .✦

The next morning, the sunlight filtered through your blinds, casting a warm glow across your room. Your head was still buzzing from the night before—the music, the laughter, the way Peter’s hands had felt on your skin. You stretched lazily, your body still humming with the memory of him. And then, like a bolt of lightning, it hit you.

He said he’d call.

You grabbed your phone off the nightstand, your fingers trembling slightly as you swiped through your contacts. His number was there, saved from when he’d called you an Uber after the party. 

You hesitated for a moment, biting your lip. 

Should you call him? Was it too soon? But before you could overthink it, your thumb pressed the call button.

The phone rang once, twice, and then his voice was in your ear, smooth and warm like honey. 

“Hey,” Peter said, his tone laced with surprise and something else—something that made your stomach flip.

“Hey, yourself,” you replied, trying to keep your voice casual. “I was just… calling to see if you meant what you said last night. About the rematch.”

He chuckled, the sound low and intimate like he was right there in the room with you. “Trust me, I meant it. But beer pong’s not exactly what I had in mind for round two.”

Your breath caught in your throat. What did he have in mind? “Oh? What did you have in mind, then?”

There was a pause, and you could almost picture him running a hand through his messy hair, that boyish grin spreading across his face. “How about dinner? Tonight. Just you and me. No frat boys, no beer pong tables—just us.”

Your heart was racing now, your cheeks flushing despite the fact that he couldn’t see you. “Dinner sounds… nice.”

“Good,” he said, his voice dropping just a little, sending shivers down your spine.

“I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear something… distracting.”

The line went dead, and you were left holding your phone, your mind spinning. Distracting? You glanced at your closet, already mentally sorting through your outfits.

By the time seven o’clock rolled around, you were ready. You’d chosen a one piece black sheer suit. (Like the picture up there). 

The material wasn’t too thin or too thick. It hugged your body in all the right places, your tribal braids cascading down your back like a waterfall. The rhinestone flip-flops were gone, replaced by black kitten heels that made the look cuter with a hint of extra height. Not forgetting to do a simple beat face.

When the doorbell rang, you took a deep breath, smoothing your dress before opening the door. 

Peter stood there, looking unfairly good in a fitted white button-down and dark jeans. He was still so tall regardless of the heels you had on. His eyes raked over you, and you could see the hunger in them, the way his jaw tightened just slightly. He also had a bouquet of white roses in his hand. 

“Wow,” he murmured, his voice rough. “You look… incredible.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you teased, stepping out and closing the door behind you.

“These are for you, they reminded me of you.” He handed you the bouquet. 

Peter handed you the bouquet of beautiful flowers, his eyes watching for your reaction. "Do you like them?" he asked, a smile on his face.

You took the flowers, admiring their beauty. 

"They're gorgeous," you murmured, placing them gently in the empty vase on the coffee table. As you stood there, you realized how thoughtful his gesture was, and it touched your heart. You looked back up at Peter, expressing your gratitude. "Thank you, these are so pretty.”

“Of course, it’s the first of many.” He held out his hand, and you took it, his fingers lacing through yours as he led you to his car. The drive to the restaurant was filled with easy conversation, the kind that made you forget you’d only known him for a day. He was funny, smart, and so damn charming that it was hard to believe he was real.

The restaurant was cozy and intimate, with soft lighting and a menu that made your mouth water. But you barely noticed the food—you were too busy watching the way Peter’s lips curved when he smiled, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed.

By the time dessert arrived, the tension between you was palpable. His foot brushed against yours under the table, and you didn’t pull away. 

Instead, you leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a whisper. “So, Peter Parker… what happens after dinner?”

He looked at you, his gaze dark and intense. 

“That depends on you.”

“On me?”

“Yeah.” His hand reached across the table, his fingers brushing against yours. “I want to see you again. Not just tonight, but… all night. But only if you want that too.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, your body screaming out for him. “I want that,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I want you.”

His eyes flashed with something primal, something that made your stomach tighten with anticipation. “Good,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Because I don’t think I can stay away from you.”

The drive back to your place was a blur, the tension between you so thick it was almost unbearable. When he pulled into your driveway, he turned to you, his hand coming to rest on your thigh. “Can I come in?”

You nodded, your breath hitching as you led him inside. The second the door closed behind you, he was on you, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was all heat and desperation. His hands were everywhere—in your hair, on your waist, pulling you flush against him.

“Peter,” you gasped, your hands fumbling with the buttons of his shirt.

He broke the kiss, his breathing ragged as he looked at you. “Tell me what you want,” he said, his voice rough.

“You,” you whispered, your hands sliding down his chest. “I want you.”

He groaned, his hands gripping your hips as he backed you against the wall. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck.

You tipped your head back, your fingers tangling in his hair as he kissed his way down to the curve of your shoulder. “Peter… please…”

He lifted his head, his eyes dark with need. “Tell me what you need,” he said, his voice a low growl.

“I need you inside me,” you breathed, your body aching for him.

He didn’t hesitate. One hand he unzipped the zipper in the back of your jumpsuit. It slide off with ease, leaving you with just a bra and underwear on. His fingers brushed against the lace of your panties. “God, you’re so wet,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

You whimpered, your hips bucking against his hand. “Peter…”

“I’ve got you,” he said, his fingers slipping under the lace and into you, making you cry out. “Fuck, you feel amazing.”

Your head fell back against the wall, your nails digging into his shoulders as he worked you with his fingers. “Peter, I’m gonna—”

“Not yet,” he said, pulling his hand away and making you moan in frustration. He dropped to his knees, his hands sliding up your thighs and pushing your dress up around your waist. “I need to taste you.”

Your eyes widened, your breath catching as he pulled your panties aside and pressed his mouth to you. The first swipe of his tongue had you gasping, your hands flying to his hair as he worked you with his mouth. “Oh my God…”

He groaned against you, the vibrations making your legs shake. “You taste even better than I imagined,” he said, his voice muffled against you.

Your back arched, your hips grinding against his 

face as pleasure coiled tight in your stomach. 

“Peter, I’m so close…”

“Come for me,” he said, his tongue circling that sensitive spot that had you seeing stars.

You cried out, your body convulsing as pleasure ripped through you. He didn’t stop, his tongue working you through the aftershocks until you were trembling in his arms.

“Peter,” you gasped, your legs barely supporting you.

He stood, his hands gripping your hips as he kissed you hard. “I need to be inside you,” he said, his voice rough with need.

“Yes,” you breathed, your hands fumbling with his belt. “Please…”

He pulled you away from the wall, his hands lifting you effortlessly and carrying you to the couch. He laid you down, his eyes locked on yours as he positioned himself between your legs. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you said, your voice trembling with desire. “I need you, Peter.”

He groaned, his hands gripping your hips as he pushed into you, inch by agonizing inch. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he murmured, his voice strained.

You gasped, your body stretching to accommodate him. “You’re so big…”

He froze, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at you. “Too much?”

“No,” you said, your hands sliding up his chest. 

“Don’t stop.”

He groaned, his hips snapping forward as he buried himself to the hilt. “Jesus, you’re perfect,” he said, his voice rough.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper as he started to move.

“Peter… oh God…”

He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was all heat and need. “You’re mine,” he growled, his hips driving into you with a rhythm that had you seeing stars.

“Yours,” you breathed, your nails digging into his back as the pleasure built inside you again. “Peter, I’m gonna—“

“Come for me,” he said, his voice a low growl. “Let go, baby.”

You cried out, your body shattering around him as he thrust into you one last time, his own release following yours. He collapsed on top of you, his breath hot against your skin as you both came down from the high.

“Peter,” you murmured, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back.

“Yeah?” he said, his voice heavy with satisfaction.

“I think I’m addicted to you,” you said, a smile playing on your lips.

── .✦

The night continued with ease. You invited him to stay over, and you changed into some cute sleepwear while he remained in his underwear, enjoying the sight of his toned body.

Cuddled up on your bed, you shared your favorite show, indulging in snacks and getting to know each other better. He promised you would see more of him, beyond just his physical desire for you. He wants something way more with you, even if it takes months for you to be ready for him.

Of course, he has a few secrets of his own, like being Spider-Man. But for now, he's keeping those under wraps.

NEXT I WAS THINKING SOMETHING THAT DEALS WITH A CORNER STORE VIBE😝😝😝 I’m so hyped guys.

(Cherry.editor on TikTok)

[ironinc]

Hey 🤗✨ Hope you're doing well! I have another request for you!

So it's a Tony x reader request (I'm sorry, I'm obsessed with that man). He leaves for a business trip in a couple of days and reader gets an idea-What if they make a movie that Tony can watch when he misses her? And when I say movie, I mean the spicy type of movie....😉

Secret Tape.ᝰ.ᐟ (Pt.1)

Tony Stark x F!Black Reader. (Smut/NSFW)

˗ˏˋ Your husband, Tony Stark, is going on a three-week business trip, and you plan to surprise him with a sexy twist - a special video you made together. He has no idea it's coming, and it'll surely make his trip more bearable.

⤷ Oneshot, smut, secretly recording, very detailed so here’s the warning!

⤷ A/N: I apologize for posting this so late, my life has been so good but a bit busy. Thank you so much for this request!:!&: THEY MAKE ME SO EXCITED. I’m gonna make this into two parts only because I want to add a suspense to this one. So I hope I don’t fail you 😫🙏🏽

⤷ Word count: 2,039

⤷ Special song to add spice: Kill Shot by Magdalena Bay

⋆˙⟡

Tonight’s the night. 

You run your fingers through your freshly silk-pressed hair, the straight strands sliding like water over your shoulder. The mirror reflects your nervous smile, the bedroom dimly lit with the warm glow of bedside lamps. 

Tony’s suitcase sits at the foot of the bed, packed and ready for his three-week trip. And tucked neatly inside, buried beneath his neatly folded shirts, lies your secret—the USB drive with the video you’ve meticulously created for him. He has no idea. None.

You glance at the clock on the nightstand. 11:47 PM. He’s still in his workshop, tinkering with something—probably the suit. You’ve got time. Slipping into the bathroom, you lock the door behind you and pull out your phone. You open the video file, your heart racing as the screen flickers to life.

There you are, lying on the bed, the camera angled just right to capture every curve, every flicker of your brown skin. Your freshly silk-pressed hair spills over the pillow and your lips part slightly as you stare directly into the lens. No words—just eyes. Intense, unyielding eye contact. The kind that makes his stomach tighten, the kind that always makes him groan your name in that low, possessive way.

You remember how your hands trembled as you set up the camera, how your breath hitched when you pressed record. But the moment you looked into the lens, something shifted. Dominance. It was in the way you tilted your chin, the way your fingers traced your collarbone, slow and deliberate. You weren’t just teasing him—you were commanding him.

The video plays on, and you can’t help but bite your lip as you watch yourself. Your hand moves down your body, fingers trailing over your breasts, your stomach, and then lower. The sound of your soft moans fills the bathroom, and your face flushes as you remember the way Tony’s name had slipped from your lips, whispered like a secret.

On-screen, your fingers dip between your thighs, and you gasp softly, the memory of the sensation sending a shiver down your spine. You had been so wet, so desperate. And then, just as you’re about to lose yourself in the video, there’s a knock at the door.

“Hey, you okay in there?” Tony’s voice is muffled through the wood, but it still makes you jump.

You quickly close the video and tuck your phone into the pocket of your robe. Play it cool. “Yeah, just… freshening up,” you call back, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Alright. Don’t take too long. I’ve got an early flight.”

You hear his footsteps retreating, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. One last look in the mirror, and you’re ready.

When you step out of the bathroom, Tony’s sitting on the edge of the bed, his tie loosened and his sleeves rolled up. He looks up at you, and his eyes darken as they trail over the sheer fabric of your robe. This is it. You walk over to him, your hips swaying just enough to tighten his jaw.

“You look… incredible,” he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly.

You smile, running a hand through your hair. “Just trying to make sure you remember me while you’re gone.”

He chuckles, pulling you closer so you’re standing between his knees. His hands rest on your hips, his thumbs brushing over the soft fabric. “Trust me, forgetting you isn’t possible.”

You lean down, your lips hovering just above his. 

“Good.”

The kiss is slow at first, a gentle exploration of each other’s mouths. But it doesn’t stay that way for long. His hands tighten on your hips, pulling you closer, and you moan softly as his tongue slips past your lips. God, he’s good at this.

When he finally pulls away, both of you are breathless. His eyes scan your face, and you can see the hunger in them. Not yet. You pull back, stepping out of his grasp.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice rough.

“Nothing,” you say, smiling as you turn away from him. “Just… don’t forget to pack your toothbrush.”

You make a show of walking over to his suitcase, pretending to organize the contents. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him watching you, his gaze heavy. Good. Keep him guessing.

As you close the suitcase, you glance back at him. He’s still sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes locked on you. Now’s the time. You walk over to him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I’m going to miss you,” you say softly, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead.

He grabs your wrist, pulling you onto his lap. 

“Then give me something to remember you by, he growls, his lips trailing along your neck.

You tilt your head back, giving him better access. This is it. You reach behind you, fumbling for the hem of your robe. With a quick tug, you let it fall open, revealing the black sheer lace lingerie underneath.

Tony’s breath catches, his hands sliding up your thighs. “Fuck,” he murmurs, his voice strained.

You smile, running your fingers through his hair. 

“Make it count.”

His hands move to your hips, lifting you slightly so he can pull off your panties. You gasp as his fingers brush against your core, already wet and aching for him. “Tony…”

He smirks, leaning in to capture your lips in a searing kiss. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll make sure you feel me for days.”

As he guides you onto him, you can’t help but think about the video, about how he’ll react when he finds it. Surprise, Iron Man.

His hands grip your hips, helping you move against him. Every thrust sends a wave of pleasure through your body, and you cry out, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“That’s it,” he groans, his voice rough with desire. 

“Let me hear you .”

You’re close, so close. Your eyes meet his, and the intensity in his gaze makes you shudder. Dominance. It’s not just in the way he’s moving inside you—it’s in the way he’s looking at you like he wants to own every inch of you.

“Tony,” you gasp, your body trembling as you reach your peak.

He groans, his grip tightening on your hips as he follows you over the edge. For a moment, you’re both lost in the aftershocks, your breathing ragged and your bodies still tangled together.

When he finally pulls away, you collapse against his chest, your heart still racing. You did it.

He kisses the top of your head, his arms wrapping around you. “I’m going to miss this,” he murmurs.

You smile, pressing a kiss to his chest. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you have plenty to remember me by.”

As you lay there, your mind drifts back to the video. Soon, he’ll find it. And when he does… well, you can’t wait to see the look on his face.

“Hey.” His voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you look up to see him smirking at you. 

“What’s that look for?”

“Nothing,” you say, laughing softly. “Just thinking about how much you’re going to miss me.”

He chuckles, pulling you closer. “Trust me, baby. I’ll be counting down the days until I’m back in this bed with you.”

Until then, you think, he’ll have the video. And as you lay there in his arms, you can’t help but smile. Surprise, Iron Man.

── .✦

The boardroom was buzzing with the usual corporate chatter, but Tony’s mind was elsewhere. The suitcase he’d opened in his hotel room last night had revealed more than just his neatly folded suits and ties. Nestled between the layers of fabric was a small, unmarked USB drive.

 Curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he’d plugged it into his laptop, only to be greeted by a video that had left him breathless.

Now, sitting at the head of the table, he could feel the heat of the memory coursing through him. The video started innocently enough—you sitting at the edge of the bed, your freshly silk-pressed hair cascading over your shoulders, your deep, expressive eyes locking onto the camera with an intensity that made his pulse quicken. 

But it wasn’t long before the silence was broken by the sound of your voice, low and sultry.

“Tony,” you began, your lips curling into a mischievous smile. “You’re probably watching this in some boring boardroom, trying to keep it together. Let’s see how long you last.”

The camera angle shifted, and suddenly he was watching you, no, himself, from the night before. 

You’d set up a camera he bought you discreetly, capturing every moment. His hands on your waist, his lips on your neck, the way you arched into him as his fingers slid under the hem of your dress. The memory was vivid, but seeing it play out on screen was something else entirely.

Tony shifted in his seat, his fingers tightening around the pen he was pretending to take notes with. The video continued, and he couldn’t help but glance at the other executives around the table. They were engrossed in their own conversations, oblivious to the internal battle he was fighting.

On the screen, your voice purred again. “Remember this part? When you told me to look at you?”

And there it was—his hand gripping your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his. Your eyes, wide and unyielding, stared back at him through the screen, and he could feel his control slipping. 

The way you submitted to his dominance, the way your lips parted as he leaned in closer, it was all too much.

“You always did like it when I let you take control,” you teased, your voice dripping with a mix of sweetness and seduction. “But what if I told you I was the one in charge the whole time?”

The video cut to a new angle, and Tony’s breath caught in his throat. It was you, straddling him, your hands on his chest, your hair falling forward as you leaned down to kiss him. He could see the way his hands gripped your hips, the way his body responded to your every touch. But then, your voice came again, soft and teasing.

“I know you’re watching this, Tony. I know you’re trying to stay professional, to keep that famous Stark composure. But let’s be real—you’re not fooling anyone.”

He could feel the sweat forming on his brow, his heart pounding in his chest. The video was relentless, each frame more intoxicating than the last. Your laughter echoed in his ears, the sound of your moans sending a shiver down his spine. 

And then, the moment he’d been dreading—the moment he’d been waiting for.

The camera zoomed in, capturing the look on your face as you came undone, your body trembling in his arms. The sound of his name on your lips was like a punch to the gut, and he had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning out loud.

“I wonder how long it’ll take before you can’t stand it anymore,” you whispered, your voice a mix of challenge and promise. “Before you need to find some way to deal with all this pent-up energy.”

Tony’s jaw clenched as he forced himself to focus on the meeting. But it was no use. The video was burned into his mind, your voice a constant reminder of what he was missing. He could feel the heat pooling in his abdomen, the tightness in his pants becoming unbearable.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. “Excuse me,” he said abruptly, standing up from the table. “I need to make a quick call.”

The others barely looked up as he made his way to the door, his steps hurried and purposeful. Once outside, he leaned against the wall, his breathing heavy and uneven. He pulled out his phone, his fingers trembling as he unlocked it and pulled up the video again.

The screen lit up, and there you were, smiling at him with that same mischievous glint in your eye. 

“Miss me yet?”

Tony’s voice was barely a whisper as he responded, “You have no idea.”

Why did this take so long for me to upload… like I could you NOT!!!:$:$ IT wouldn’t let me do ANYTHING ON HERE GAHHHSHSH

- Part Two Awaits You Soon…ᥫ᭡

[ironinc]

Game Time.ᝰ.ᐟ

Jalen Hurts x F!Black Reader  (Smut/NSFW)

˗ˏˋ As a successful actress, you had your pick of any man you wanted. But there was something about the charming and talented Jalen Hurts, the Philadelphia Eagles quarterback, that caught your eye. You watched anxiously from the sidelines as his team played in the Super Bowl, your heart racing with excitement and anticipation. And when the final whistle blew and the Eagles were declared the victors, you knew you had to give him a reward for his well-deserved success

⤷ Oneshot, smut, very detailed so here’s the warning!

⤷ A/N: This is just a random story idea I had after seeing so many fine ass edits of him- I HAD TO PLEASEEE!!!

⤷ Word count: 2,601

⤷ Special song to add spice: Tonight by Sahbabii

୨ৎ

The roar of the crowd was deafening, a wall of sound that vibrated through your chest as you gripped the edge of your seat. The Super Bowl was in its final minutes, and every play felt like it could tip the scales of history. Your best friend, Ne'shell, was sitting beside you, her nails digging into your arm as she screamed, "Come on, Jalen! You’ve got this!" You didn’t need to look at her to know her eyes were glued to the field, just like yours were.

The game was electric, the kind of moment that made you forget everything else. But it wasn’t just the thrill of the competition that had your heart racing. No, it was him. Jalen Hurts, the Philadelphia Eagles quarterback, was a force of nature on that field. His focus, his determination, the way he commanded the team—it was impossible not to be drawn to him. You’d seen him play before, of course, but tonight was different. Tonight, he wasn’t just a quarterback. He was a legend in the making.

The ball snapped, and Jalen dropped back, scanning the field with the kind of calm that made you wonder if he even felt the pressure. Then, in one fluid motion, he launched the ball downfield. The crowd held its breath as the receiver leaped, fingers stretching, and pulled it in for a touchdown. The stadium erupted. Ne'shell was on her feet, screaming, and you were right beside her, your voice lost in the cacophony.

When the final whistle blew, the Eagles were declared the victors, and the celebration was immediate. Confetti rained down, players embraced, and the crowd went wild. You watched as Jalen was swarmed by his teammates, his smile wide and genuine, his eyes shining with pride. Ne’shell turned to you, her face flushed with excitement. "Oh my God, can you believe it? He did it! They did it!"

You nodded, but your mind was already elsewhere. Jalen Hurts had always been intriguing—talented, humble, and ridiculously handsome—but tonight, something about seeing him in that moment of triumph made him irresistible. You bit your lip, your thoughts already racing ahead.

── .✦

Later that night, the party was in full swing at the upscale Airbnb in Louisiana. The house was alive with music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. You’d changed into something a little more daring—a sleek black dress that hugged your curves just right, paired with heels that made you feel every bit the confident as the successful actress you were. Ne’shell had teased you earlier, raising an eyebrow as you adjusted your lipstick in the mirror. "Someone’s got a plan," she’d said, grinning. You hadn’t denied it.

Now, you stood near the edge of the room, a glass of champagne in your hand, scanning the crowd. It didn’t take long to spot him. Jalen was across the room, still in his jersey, surrounded by teammates and fans who wanted a piece of the Super Bowl hero. He laughed at something someone said, his head tipping back, and you felt that familiar flutter in your chest.

You took a deep breath, smoothing your dress as you made your way over. The crowd parted slightly as you approached, and you could feel the weight of his gaze as he noticed you. His smile widened, and he excused himself from the conversation, stepping toward you.

"Well, if it isn’t the most glamorous woman in the room," he said, his voice warm and teasing.

You smiled, tilting your head slightly. "And if it isn’t the MVP of the night. Congratulations, Jalen. You were incredible out there."

He shrugged modestly, but there was a glint of pride in his eyes. "Team effort. But I’ll take the compliment." His gaze lingered on you, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. "So, what brings you over here? I’m guessing you didn’t just come to congratulate me."

You took a step closer, the air between you charged with something unspoken. "Maybe I did. Or maybe I just wanted to see if the man behind the legend lives up to the hype."

His eyes darkened, and he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone. "And what’s the verdict so far?"

You held his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. "I think I need a little more... data before I decide."

Jalen laughed, a rich, deep sound that made your stomach flip. "Well, I’m always happy to oblige. Why don’t we find somewhere a little more private to continue this conversation?"

You nodded, your breath catching as he took your hand and led you away from the crowd. The night was warm, the air thick with the scent of magnolias as you stepped out onto the balcony. The sounds of the party faded into the background, leaving just the two of you under the soft glow of the moonlight.

Jalen turned to you, his hand still in yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "So," he said softly, "what exactly are you looking for tonight?"

You stepped closer, your free hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. "I’m not sure yet. But I think... I’d like to find out."

His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, there was nothing but tension between you. Then he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was slow, deliberate, and utterly intoxicating. You melted into him, your hands sliding up to his shoulders as the kiss deepened.

When he pulled back, his breath was ragged, his eyes burning with desire. "You’re even more dangerous than I thought," he murmured, his voice rough.

You smiled, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "You have no idea."

His lips crashed into yours again, and this time, there was no holding back. His hands were everywhere—on your waist, your hips, sliding up your back as he pulled you closer. You gasped against his mouth, your body arching into his as the heat between you grew unbearable.

"You’re so fucking gorgeous mama,” he groaned, his lips trailing down your neck. "I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you."

You moaned, your fingers tangling in his hair as he nipped at your skin. "Then take me," you whispered, your voice trembling with need.

Jalen didn’t need to be told twice. He lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you back inside. The door to the bedroom closed behind you, and then it was just the two of you, the world outside forgotten.

He set you down gently, his hands sliding down to grip your hips as he kissed you again, deep and hungry. Your dress was the first to go, pooling at your feet as he stepped back to admire you. "Fuck," he breathed, his eyes raking over your body. "You’re perfect."

You reached for him, your fingers fumbling with the hem of his jersey until it was successfully pulled off of him. Then revealing the hard planes of his chest. Your hands explored every inch of him, marveling at the strength in his muscles, the heat of his skin.

"Jalen," you moaned as his lips found yours again, his hands roaming over your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

"I’ve got you," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "I’m not letting you go tonight."

He spun you around, pressing you on the bed as his hands slid down to grip your hips again. You gasped, feeling the hardness of him against your back as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "You’re going to take everything I give you," he growled, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

You nodded, your heart pounding as you braced yourself on the bed. Your ass is up in the air. 

Jalen’s hands moved to your panties, pulling them down in one swift motion before he stepped back. You heard the sound of his belt unbuckling, and then he was behind you again, his body pressing onto yours as he whispered, "Tell me you want this."

"I want it," you breathed, your body aching with need.

He didn’t make you wait. In one smooth motion, he thrust into you, filling you completely. You cried out, your nails digging into the sheets as he started to move, each stroke sending sparks of pleasure through you.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he picked up the pace.

You moaned, your head falling onto the bed as the heat between you built to a fever pitch. "Jalen, it hurtsss” you gasped, the sound of his name on your lips.

“Shhh, you can take it, baby.” His hands tightened on your hips, his rhythm deepening, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. You could feel the heat pooling in your core, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps. 

"Jalen," you moaned, your voice trembling with need. His name was a plea, a prayer, a mantra as he claimed you completely.

"Tell me how bad you want it," he demanded, his voice low and rough, sending shivers down your spine. His fingers dug into your skin, leaving marks that you knew would linger, a reminder of this moment.

"I want it so bad," you panted, your nails scraping down the wall as he drove into you harder, faster. "Please, Jalen, don’t stop."

He chuckled, a dark, seductive sound that made your knees weak. "Oh, I’m not stopping," he promised, his breath hot against your ear. "Not until you scream my name."

You cried out as he gave you exactly what you asked for, his hips slamming into yours with a force that left you breathless. You could feel the tension building, your body tightening around him, your mind consumed by the sheer intensity of it all.

And then his hand came down, hard and precise, on your ass. The sharp slap echoed through the room, the sting turning to pleasure almost instantly. You gasped, arching your back, pushing your hips back to meet his next thrust. 

"Jalen!" you cried, the sound caught between a moan and a scream.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. He spanked you again, the sound mingling with the wet slap of skin against skin. You could feel the heat spreading, your body trembling with the need for more.

"Harder," you begged, your voice breaking as he obliged, his hand coming down with a force that had you seeing stars. "Yes, yes, yes!"

His grip on your hips tightened, pulling you back onto him as he fucked you with a relentless pace. You could feel the orgasm building, your body tightening, your breath hitching. "Jalen, I’m gonna—"

"Come for me," he ordered his voice a command you couldn’t resist. And you did, your body shattering as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. You screamed his name, your voice raw with ecstasy as he pounded into you, chasing his own release.

For a moment, you both stayed like that, your bodies pressed together, your breaths mingling in the quiet of the room. And then he pulled out, his hands sliding up your back, leaving trails of heat in their wake.

"You’re incredible," he murmured, his lips brushing against your shoulder. You moved your body around to face him, your body still trembling, your heart pounding in your chest. His eyes were dark with satisfaction, a smug smile playing on his lips as he pulled you into his arms.

"Not so bad yourself," you teased, though your voice was weak, your body still thrumming with pleasure. He laughed, the sound rich and warm, his arms tightening around you.

"We’re not done yet," he promised his voice a low growl that sent a thrill through you. You could feel the promise in his words, the hunger in his eyes. And you knew that he meant every word.

His hands were everywhere, exploring every inch of you as he kissed you deeply. You moaned into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair as he moved down your body, leaving a trail of kisses and bites that had you squirming.

"Jalen," you gasped as his lips closed around your nipple, sucking and teasing until you were whimpering with need. His hands slid down your body, parting your legs as he positioned himself between them.

"Look at you," he murmured, his eyes dark with desire as he took in the sight of you. "So fucking beautiful."

You could feel the heat of his gaze, its intensity making your skin burn. And then he lowered his head, his tongue flicking against your clit, and you cried out, your back arching off the bed.

"Fuck, Jalen, please," you begged, your hands fisting in the sheets as he teased you, his tongue darting in and out, driving you wild. He chuckled, the sound vibrating against your sensitive flesh, and you nearly came undone.

"Not yet, mama he murmured, pulling back just enough to make you whimper. "I want to hear you beg for it."

You were already on the edge, your body trembling with need, and you knew he wouldn’t stop until you gave in. "Please, Jalen," you gasped, your voice raw with need. "Please, I need you. I need to come."

His lips curled into a smirk, and he moved his hand, his fingers sliding into you as his tongue flicked against your clit. You cried out, your body tightening around his fingers as he brought you closer to the edge.

"Come for me," he ordered his voice a command you couldn’t resist. And you did, your body shattering as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. You screamed his name, your voice raw with ecstasy as he worked you through it, his fingers and tongue relentless until you were boneless, your body trembling with aftershocks.

He moved up your body, his lips claiming yours in a deep, possessive kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, the thought making you moan as he pressed his hard body against yours.

He collapsed on top of you, his breath ragged as he pressed his forehead against yours. "You’re fucking amazing," he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction as he kissed you deeply.

── .✦

The morning light filters through the sheer curtains, casting a soft golden glow across the room. You blink awake, your body still humming with the echoes of last night’s passion. The sheets are tangled around your legs, and the faint scent of Jalen’s cologne lingers in the air, sending a shiver down your spine. You stretch, feeling the ache in your muscles—a delicious reminder of what transpired between the two of you.

From the kitchen, the sound of sizzling bacon and the faint hum of Jalen’s voice drifts into the room. You sit up, the sheet pooling around your waist, and reach for the oversized Eagles jersey you took off of him last night. It’s warm against your skin, and you pull it over your head, letting it hang loosely off your frame. The fabric is impossibly soft, and it smells like him—like sweat, sex, and something uniquely Jalen.

You pad barefoot into the kitchen, the cool tiles soothing against your feet. Jalen stands at the stove, his broad shoulders flexing as he flips a pancake with one hand. He’s shirtless, his muscular back on full display, and the low-slung sweatpants he’s wearing do nothing to hide the way his body moves with effortless grace. Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, you just stand there, watching him.

He must feel your eyes on him because he turns around, a slow, lazy smile spreading across his face. “Morning, beautiful,” he says, his voice low and gravelly, sending a thrill through you. His eyes rake over you, taking in the way his jersey hangs off your body, and his smile turns into a smirk. “Looks better on you than it does on me.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the heat that rises to your cheeks. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” you tease, leaning against the counter.

Jalen chuckles, turning back to the stove. “Good to know,” he says, his tone dripping with mischief. “Because I plan on flattering you all damn day.”

You laugh, a soft, breathy sound that seems to catch his attention. He glances at you over his shoulder, his eyes darkening with something that makes your stomach flip. “You’re trouble,” you murmur, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You love it,” he counters, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. He sets the spatula down and turns to face you fully, taking a step closer. 

“Don’t deny it.”

You don’t. You can’t. The way he looks at you, with that intense, almost predatory gaze, makes it impossible to think straight. He’s standing so close now that you can feel the heat radiating off his body, and when he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers linger against your skin, sending a jolt of electricity through you.

“Last night…” he starts, his voice low and intimate, like he’s sharing a secret. “You were incredible.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you feel your cheeks flush even more. “So were you,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jalen’s lips curve into a slow, sensual smile. “Good to know I still got it,” he says, his tone teasing but his eyes serious. “But you… you blew my fucking mind.”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress the smile that threatens to break free. “That was the goal,” you say, your voice playful.

Jalen laughs, a rich, deep sound that seems to vibrate through your chest. “Mission accomplished,” he says, his eyes never leaving yours. He leans in, his breath warm against your skin, and you can feel the magnetic pull between you, the tension that’s been simmering since the moment you woke up.

But then he pulls back, his smirk returning. “Breakfast first,” he says, turning back to the stove. “Can’t have you fainting on me later.”

You groan, the sound half-hearted at best. “You’re cruel,” you say, even as you can’t help but smile.

“I’m thoughtful,” he corrects, plating the pancakes and bacon with a flourish. He sets the plate on the counter in front of you, along with a steaming cup of coffee. “Eat up. Big day ahead.”

You eye him suspiciously as you take a seat. “And what’s on the agenda for this big day?” you ask, cutting into the stack of pancakes.

Jalen leans against the counter, watching you with that same intense gaze. “Press conference,” he says casually like it’s no big deal. “The world’s been waiting long enough. Time to make it official.”

You freeze, the fork halfway to your mouth. “Official?” you repeat, your voice trembling slightly.

Jalen’s smile softens, and he takes a step closer, his hand reaching out to brush against yours. “You’re mine,” he says simply, his voice firm but tender. “And I’m yours. It’s time everyone knows it.”

Your heart swells at his words, and you feel a lump form in your throat. “Jalen…”

He cuts you off with a kiss, his lips pressing against yours in a way that’s both possessive and tender. “No arguments,” he murmurs against your mouth. “It’s happening.”

You nod, unable to speak, and he pulls back, his smile returning. “Now eat,” he says, his tone light but firm. “We’ve got a lot to do.”

You take a bite of the pancake, the sweetness exploding on your tongue, and you can’t help but smile. Jalen watches you for a moment before turning back to the stove, and you let yourself relax, the warmth of the morning wrapping around you like a blanket.

After breakfast, you both head upstairs to get ready. The Airbnb’s bathroom is a sprawling masterpiece of marble and glass, and you take your time in the shower, letting the hot water wash away the last remnants of sleep. When you step out, wrapped in a plush towel, Jalen is already dressed in a sharp navy suit, the fabric hugging his frame in all the right places.

He looks up from tying his shoes, his eyes raking over you appreciatively. “You’re gonna kill me,” he says, his voice low and husky.

You laugh, the sound light and carefree. “You’ll survive,” you say, grabbing the outfit he picked out for you—a sleek, figure-hugging juicy couture brown tracksuit with a cute bedazzled bra. Of course, you matched it with a nice bag as well. 

When you’re finally ready, Jalen takes your hand, his fingers lacing through yours in a way that feels both possessive and protective. “Let’s go,” he says, his voice steady but his eyes blazing with determination.

── .✦

The drive to the press conference is a blur, your nerves buzzing but your heart full. Jalen keeps your hand in his the entire time, his thumb brushing against your skin in a soothing rhythm. When you arrive, the paparazzi are already there, their cameras flashing as you step out of the car.

Jalen doesn’t let go of your hand as he leads you to the podium, his presence commanding and confident. He steps up to the microphone, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly.

“Thank you all for being here,” he begins, his voice strong and clear. “There’s been a lot of speculation about my personal life lately, and I think it’s time I set the record straight.” He pauses, his eyes finding yours, and you feel your breath catch in your throat. “This is my girlfriend,” he says, his voice unwavering.

“The love of my life. And I’m done hiding that.”

...

YOU SEE HOW I ADDED THE “Jalen it hurtssss😫” GAHHAHSHHSH!! I know this is off from my original concept but still! We'll be back to our schedule program soon!

[ironinc]

Civil War.ᝰ.ᐟ 

Peter Parker x F!Black Reader. (Smut/NSFW)

˗ˏˋ You are a demi-god and the protector of earth, pitted against Spider-Man/Peter Parker during the Civil War. Despite your mutual ignorance of each other's identities, the heat and intensity of the battle build an overwhelming sexual tension between you, leaving both of you struggling to focus on the fight. As the battle progresses, a moment of distraction leads to Peter's mask slipping, revealing his true identity.

⤷ Oneshot, smut, very detailed so here’s the warning!

⤷ A/N: Me and my best friend aka sister worked on this idea. All I gotta say is someone cooked here- LIKE HOLD AWNNN!(( Peter Parker is aged up to 20 since they are in college! And I couldn't find a good picture for the description for how I see the character so just bare with me!

⤷ Word count: 2,856

⤷ Special song to add spice: All I Need by Lloyd

ᥫ᭡.

The air crackles with energy as the battlefield of the airport transforms into a chaotic symphony of shouts and explosions. You let loose a crackling ball of electricity from your hands, and in a swift movement, deflecting the web that streaks toward you. Spider-Man lands on a crumbling wall, his red and blue suit a blur against the smoke-filled sky. His voice, muffled by the mask, carries a playful edge."

"Hey, Guardian of Earth, you know this whole thing is a mess, right? Maybe we should just call it a day."

You smirk, your blonde bohemian braids swaying as you step forward, your earthy-toned outfit standing out from the chaos around you. "Funny, Spider-Boy. But I don’t think you’re in any position to make suggestions."

He flips backward, avoiding a lash of energy from your hands. "Ouch. Spider-Boy? That’s low. And here I was trying to keep this civil." "Civil War," you counter, lunging forward, your staff crackling. "Doesn’t exactly scream ‘let’s chat.’"

He shoots another web, this one aimed at your feet, but you leap into the air, twisting gracefully. Your powers hum through you, grounding you as you land. He’s fast—faster than you expected—but you’re not exactly slow. 

The two of you circle each other, the tension between you thickening with every move.

"Careful," he quips, dodging a blast of energy from your hands. "Someone might think you’re actually trying to hit me." "Oh, I’m not trying," you say, your voice low and deliberate. "I’m succeeding."

You press the attack, forcing him to retreat. But there’s something about the way he moves, the way he talks, that’s… distracting. His voice, even through the mask, sends a shiver down your spine. And the way his body twists and bends—it’s hypnotic. You shake your head, trying to focus. This is the last time you let a crush get in the way of your job.

He flips onto a nearby small pillar, crouching like a predator ready to pounce. 

"You’re good," he admits. "But are you good enough?"

"Guess you’ll find out," you say, raising your staff.

The fight intensifies, the two of you moving in a dangerous dance. His webs are everywhere, forcing you to stay on your toes, but you’re relentless. And then it happens—a moment of distraction. His foot slips, just slightly, and you seize the opportunity. Your energy blast connects with his chest, sending him tumbling backward. His mask slips, just enough to reveal his face. Peter Parker.

Everything stops.

The chaos around you fades into the background as you stare at him, your breath catching in your throat. Peter. The shy, awkward boy from school.

The one who always seemed to be looking at you when you weren’t looking at him. The one you’ve secretly been crushing on for months. He pulls the mask back up quickly, but it’s too late. You saw him. And you both know it.

"Peter," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitates, his body tense. "Look, I…"

"You’re Spider-Man?"

"Yeah," he says, his voice heavy with resignation. "And you’re… what? Some kind of goddess?"

"Close enough," you reply, stepping closer. The staff in your hand feels heavier now, the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

"Peter, why didn’t you tell me?"

"Tell you?" he says, his voice rising. "How was I supposed to do that? ‘Hey, by the way, I’m Spider-Man. And you’re… what? The protector of Earth? Not exactly something you just drop in casual conversation."

The tension between you shifting from combat to something else entirely. The air feels charged, electric. Your heart races, not from the fight, but from the way he’s looking at you. Even through the mask, you can feel his eyes on you.

"Peter," you say, your voice soft. "I… I didn’t know."

"Neither did I," he admits, stepping closer. "At school, I… I always wanted to talk to you. But I never could."

"Why not?"

"Because you’re… amazing. And I’m just… me. I would always see you in the hallway. Talking to your friends and I would just.. get nervous and walk away.”

“But you’re more than that," you say, closing the distance between you. The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you. You reach up, your fingers brushing against the edge of his mask. He doesn’t stop you as you pull it down, revealing his face. His brown eyes meet yours, filled with a mix of fear and longing.

"Peter," you whisper, your voice trembling.

He hesitates for a moment, then his hands are on your waist, pulling you closer. His lips crash into yours, the kiss explosive, filled with all the pent-up emotions you’ve both been hiding. His hand finding a way to your neck as you deepen the kiss, your body pressing against his. The heat between you is overwhelming, the tension from the fight morphing into something entirely different.

You break the kiss, gasping for air. "Peter," you say, your voice breathless. 

"We shouldn’t—"

"Shut up," he murmurs, cutting you off with another kiss. His hands roam your body, exploring every curve. You can feel the strength in his touch, the way his muscles tense as he holds you. He’s not just Spider-Man. He’s Peter. And he’s yours.

Peter quickly scans the area, his mind racing. His eyes fall upon a secluded “Quiet Room” nestled in the corner of the airport. The tinted glass of the room makes it impossible to see inside, offering a rare moment of privacy. Without hesitation, he scoops you up with ease, carrying you into the room as if you weigh nothing. The door automatically locks behind you both, securing your solitude.

He carefully lays you down on the luxurious L-shaped couch, ensuring your comfort as he lowers you onto the plush cushions. His gaze never leaves your form as he takes in the sight of you before him.

When he came closer your hands trembled as you struggled with the clasps of his suit, your body desperate to feel his skin against yours. He senses your urgency and helps you, pulling off his mask completely before gently placing his hand on his chest. With a swift quick motion, the suit slips off, leaving him standing in front of you.

His chest is toned, his body a testament to the life he leads. You trace your fingers over his skin, feeling the heat of him.

"You’re beautiful," he murmurs, his hands sliding under your top. His touch is electric, sending shivers through your body.

"So are you," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

He kisses you again, his hands moving lower, exploring every inch of you. His touch is tentative at first, but as the fire between you grows, so does his confidence. Your breath hitches as his fingers brush against the waistband of your suit, a silent question in his eyes.

His voice is low and commanding, but there’s a softness in it that makes your chest tighten. “Tell me what you want,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your inner thigh.

“I want you to worship me,” you breathe, your voice trembling with need. The words hang in the air, heavy, and electric, and you can feel the way they ignite something in him. His eyes flash, and a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face.

“Your wish is my command,” he says, his voice dripping with promise.

He doesn’t waste another second. His hands glide up your thighs, spreading you wider, and then his mouth is on you, hot and demanding. 

His tongue drags a slow, torturous path up your core, and you gasp, your hips arching off the couch. God, he’s good at this.

“Fuck, Peter,” you moan, your fingers gripping his hair tightly. He hums against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body, and you can’t help but squirm beneath him. His hands move to your hips, pinning you down, and he looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire.

“Stay still,” he commands, and the authority in his voice makes your legs tremble. He doesn’t wait for you to comply before diving back in, his tongue circling your clit with a precision that leaves you whimpering.

Your breath comes in short, uneven gasps as he works you over, his tongue flicking and teasing in ways that make your mind go blank. Every stroke is deliberate, every movement calculated to drive you closer to the edge. He’s relentless, and you can feel the pressure building, coiling tight in your core.

“Peter, I’m—” you start, but he pulls away, leaving you hovering on the edge of release.

“Not yet,” he says, his voice firm but soft. His lips brush against your inner thigh, and you can feel the smirk on his lips even before he looks up at you. “You’re not allowed to come yet.”

God, who knew Peter Parker could be so fucking infuriating? You let out a frustrated groan, your hips bucking up against him, but he holds you down easily, his strength surprising you.

“Peter, please,” you whimper, your voice breaking.

He looks up at you, his eyes blazing with a mix of desire and affection, and something in your chest tightens. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice low and reverent. “I could spend hours just like this.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you can feel the heat spreading through your body. His mouth is back on you in an instant, his tongue working you over with a fervor that leaves you gasping. 

He alternates between slow, deliberate strokes and quick, teasing flicks, and you can feel your control slipping with every passing second.

Your hands tighten in his hair, pulling him closer, and he groans against you, the sound vibrating through your core. His hands move to your thighs, gripping them tightly as he buries his face in you, his tongue delving deep.

“I can’t—I can’t help it,” you gasp, your hips bucking up against him. He chuckles, the sound low and warm, and then his mouth is back on you, his tongue swirling around your clit in slow, deliberate circles.

Your back arches off the ground, your hands gripping the pillow cushion beneath you as the pleasure builds, threatens to consume you.

“Peter, I’m—”

“Let go,” he commands, his voice soft but firm. And then his tongue flicks against you, and you shatter.

Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, your body trembling as pleasure crashes over you. Peter doesn’t stop, his tongue working you through it, drawing out every last second of your release until you’re boneless, your chest heaving as you come down from the high.

He pulls away slowly, his lips brushing against your inner thigh in a soft kiss, and you can’t help but smile at the affection in the gesture. You look down at him, your eyes soft but heavy with desire, and he smirks up at you, his lips glistening.

“You’re so fucking beautiful when you come,” he murmurs, his voice thick with need.

“Peter,” you whisper, your hand reaching out to cup his cheek. He leans into your touch, his eyes closing for a moment, and then he crawls up your body, his lips claiming yours in a heated kiss.

You can taste yourself on his tongue, and the thought sends a jolt of heat through you. His hands grip your hips, pulling you closer, and you can feel the hardness of his cock pressing against you, begging for release.

“Peter,” you gasp, breaking the kiss. “I need you inside me.”

He growls low in his throat, his eyes dark with desire, and then he’s fumbling with the waistband of his suit, his hands shaking with need.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire.

“Tell me and it’s yours.”

“I want you to fuck me, Peter,” you breathe, your voice trembling. “I want to feel you inside me.”

Peter’s eyes darken, his breath hitching at your words. He lets out a low growl, his hands gripping your waist with a possessiveness that sends shivers down your spine. “You want me to fuck you?” he murmurs, his voice rough, almost feral. “Then say it again. Say it so I know you mean it.”

Your heart pounds as his eyes lock onto yours, the intensity of his gaze making you feel exposed, vulnerable, and completely consumed by him. “I want you to fuck me, Peter,” you repeat, your voice trembling but firm. “I want you to make me yours.”

His lips crash onto yours, hot and demanding, as his hands slide down to your thighs. You barely have time to register what’s happening before he’s lifting you effortlessly, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

Your back presses against the cool wall behind you, the contrast of the hard surface and the heat of his body making you gasp into his mouth.

Peter breaks the kiss, his chest rising and falling as he looks down at you, his eyes blazing with need. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathes, his voice raw with emotion. “I’ve wanted this—wanted you—for so long.”

You bite your lip, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pull him closer. “Then stop waiting,” you whisper, your voice trembling with anticipation.

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

One hand grips your hip, the other guiding himself to your entrance. You feel the tip of him press against you, and you moan softly, your body aching for him. “Peter,” you whimper, your voice desperate.

“Please—”

He thrusts into you in one smooth, powerful motion, filling you completely.

Your nails dig into his shoulders as a cry escapes your lips, the sensation overwhelming. “Oh, fuck,” you gasp, your head falling back against the wall. “Peter.”

He groans, his forehead resting against yours as he stills inside you, giving you a moment to adjust. “You feel so fucking good,” he murmurs, his voice strained. “I can’t—I can’t hold back.”

“Then don’t,” you breathe, your legs tightening around his waist. “Fuck me, Peter. Please.”

He moans your name before pulling back and thrusting into you again, harder this time. Your breath hitches as he sets a relentless pace, each thrust driving you higher and higher. The sounds of your bodies meeting, skin slapping against skin, echo in the small space, mixed with your moans and his growls of pleasure.

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” Peter growls, his hands gripping your hips as he drives into you. “I’ve never—never felt anything like this.”

You clutch onto him, your body moving in sync with his, every thrust sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. “Oh, Peter,” you moan, your voice breaking as he hits a particularly sensitive spot.

“Right there—don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

“Fuck, I’m not gonna last,” he grits out, his pace faltering slightly.

“You’re too good—too fucking perfect.”

“Then let go,” you whisper, your lips brushing against his ear. “I want to feel you lose control.”

He groans, his hips slamming into yours with renewed intensity. You can feel the tension coiling in him, the way his body trembles as he gets closer and closer to the edge. “Come with me,” he rasps, his voice nearly pleading. “I want to feel you come with me.”

You nod, your own pleasure building to a crescendo as he hits that perfect spot again and again. “Fuck, I’m—” you gasp, your body tightening around him as the first wave of your orgasm crashes over you.

He growls your name, his hands gripping you tighter as he thrusts into you one last time, his release spilling deep inside you. You cling to him, your body trembling as you ride out the waves of pleasure together, the world around you fading away until it’s just the two of you, lost in each other.

For a long moment, neither of you moves, the only sounds in the room are your ragged breaths and the pounding of your heart. Peter rests his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he tries to catch his breath. “That was…fuck,” he mutters, his voice shaking.

You laugh softly, your fingers brushing through his hair. “Yeah,” you agree, your voice just as unsteady. “It was.”

He pulls back slightly, his eyes meeting yours, and you can see the raw emotion in them, the vulnerability that makes your heartache. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “You have no idea how much.”

You smile, your hand cupping his cheek. 

── .✦

After the intimate moment shared between you, both of you got dressed and made your way back to Tony Stark. With a sly smile on his face, Peter had to make up an excuse to Tony as to why they had gone "idle" for a while.

Tony rolled his eyes in response, feigning annoyance. "You had one job, underoos…" But there was a hint of amusement in his voice as his gaze flicked between the two of you. Your fingers interlocked with Peter's, a silent signal of your connection. 

So he couldn't deny the truth in Peter's words.

This is SOOOO out of my usual context/concept but I wanted to go with it for the PLOT!!!!

(Credits: 6rceus on Tiktok)

[ironinc]

Hey heyyy! Love your fics 🫶🏾. Can we get a stripper x Tony Stark story? After reader finishes dancing, she takes Tony to a private room and they do more than dancing if you know what I mean 😉

The Private Room.

Tony Stark x F!Black Reader. (Smut/NSFW)

˗ˏˋ Tony Stark enters the strip club, his friend's bachelor party having led him to this realm of forbidden cravings. There you are on stage, mesmerizing him with your captivating allure and elegance. He can't take his gaze off you, and the tension between you two is palpable. Will he give into his desires, or will he resist the allure of the private dance and the world it could lead him into?

⤷ Oneshot, smut, very detailed so here’s the warning! But it’s worth it. 

⤷ A/N: YAYY I LOVE REQUESTS SO MUCH!! This is my first one so thank you for your request and I hope you like it. Thank you for requesting something, it really makes me so happy.

⤷ Word count: 3,303

⤷ Special song to add spice: Wine Pon You by Doja Cat

⋆˙⟡

The bass thrummed through the floor, vibrating up through the soles of Tony’s Italian leather shoes as he stepped into the dimly lit strip club. 

The air was thick with the scent of sweat, perfume, and something distinctly sinful. His tie felt too tight, his collar too constricting, and the whiskey in his hand wasn’t doing enough to dull the edge of his thoughts. 

He hadn’t wanted to come tonight—Happy’s bachelor party was supposed to be a low-key affair—but here he was, surrounded by flashing lights and the intoxicating allure of forbidden desires.

“Come on, Stark, live a little!” Happy’s voice boomed over the music, slapping Tony on the back with a force that nearly sent his drink flying. Tony shot him a half-hearted glare, but his eyes were already wandering, drawn to the stage like a moth to a flame. 

And there you were.

You moved like a predator, all grace and purpose, your body swaying to the rhythm of the music. 

The spotlight caught the shimmer of your skin, the curve of your hips, the way your eyes seemed to lock onto his from across the room. It wasn’t just a dance—it was a performance, and Tony was—pitifully—enthralled. He couldn’t look away, even if he wanted to, which he didn’t.

Your lips curled into a knowing smile as you descended from the stage, your heels clicking against the floor with each deliberate step.

The crowd parted for you as if they could sense the magnetic pull between you and the man who hadn’t taken his eyes off you since the moment you appeared. Tony’s grip tightened on his glass, the ice clinking as his throat went dry.

“Tony Stark,” you purred, your voice low and sultry, like the hum of a luxury engine. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

He raised an eyebrow, trying to play it cool, but the way his pulse quickened betrayed him. “All good things, I hope.”

You laughed, a sound that sent a shiver down his spine. “Oh, I think you know the answer to that.” You leaned in, close enough that he could smell the faintest hint of your perfume—something dark and forbidden, just like the thoughts spiraling through his mind. “You look like a man who’s used to getting what he wants.”

Tony’s gaze flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes, his own voice dropping to match yours. “And what if I want you?”

Your smile widened, and you took his hand, your fingers cool against his skin. “Then maybe you should see what’s behind the curtain.”

The private room was more opulent than he’d expected, all velvet and gold, with a plush couch that looked like it had been designed for sin.

You guided him to it, your touch soft yet commanding, and he sat without protest. 

The door clicked shut behind you, and suddenly, the world outside didn’t exist. It was just you and him, the air thick with anticipation.

You didn’t waste time. The music was softer here, a sultry beat that matched the rhythm of your movements as you began to dance. Your hips swayed, your body undulating in a way that made Tony’s mouth go dry. He leaned back, watching you through half-lidded eyes, his hands itching to touch, to claim, to possess.

“You’re not like the others,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper but somehow cutting through the music like a knife. “You’re not here to lose yourself. You’re here to find something.”

Tony’s jaw tightened, his fingers flexing against the couch. “And what do you think I’m looking for?”

You stopped dancing, stepping closer until you were standing between his legs, your eyes locking onto his. “Control,” you said, and the word hit him like a punch to the gut. “You’re a man who’s used to being in charge. But here… you’re not the one in control, are you?”

His breath caught as you leaned down, your lips brushing his ear. “Let me take the reins, Tony. Just for tonight.”

The dam broke. His hands were on you in an instant, pulling you onto his lap, his mouth crashing against yours in a kiss that was all heat and hunger. You moaned into it, your hands tangling in his hair as you rocked against him, the friction driving him wild.

“Fuck,” he growled, his voice rough with desire as he pulled back just enough to look at you. 

“You’re dangerous.”

You smirked, your fingers trailing down his chest. “And you like it.”

He did. God, he did. His hands slid up your thighs, the fabric of your dress soft against his palms as he pushed it higher, his breath hitching when he found nothing underneath. “No underwear?” he asked, his voice thick with lust.

“I didn’t think I’d need it,” you whispered, your lips brushing his as you ground against him, the heat of you driving him to the edge of madness.

His fingers delved into you, finding you wet and ready, and you moaned, your head falling back as he worked you with practiced precision. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he muttered, his eyes dark with need. “I want to ruin you.”

You laughed, a breathless, broken sound that only fueled his desire. “You can try, Tony. But I think I’m the one who’s going to ruin you.”

Before he could respond, you were on your knees, your hands working his belt with practiced ease. He barely had time to process what was happening before your mouth was on him, hot and wet, and all coherent thought fled his mind. 

His hand tangled in your hair, his hips bucking as you took him deeper, your tongue swirling around him in a way that had him seeing stars.

“Jesus,” he groaned, his head falling back against the couch as you sucked him off with a skill that bordered on obscene. “You’re going to kill me.”

You pulled back, a wicked smile on your lips as you looked up at him. “Not yet, Tony. We’re just getting started.”

And then you were on your feet, pulling him up with you, your hands pushing his jacket off his shoulders before you reached for his tie.

“I’ve always wanted to see you like this,” you murmured, your fingers deftly undoing the knot. “All that power, all that control… and here you are, naked for me.”

He let you undress him, his breath coming in ragged gasps as you peeled away layer after layer until he was bare before you. Your hands roamed over his chest, your nails scraping lightly against his skin as you kissed him again, your body pressed against his, driving him to the brink of insanity.

“Tell me what you want,” you whispered, your lips brushing his as you ground against him, the heat of you driving him wild.

He groaned, his hands gripping your hips as he thrust against you, the friction maddening. “You. I want you.”

You smiled a slow, predatory thing that sent a shiver down his spine. “Then take me, Tony. Take what you want.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. In one swift move, he lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the wall, pinning you there. Your eyes locked, the tension between you crackling like a live wire as he positioned himself at your entrance.

“Last chance to back out,” he muttered, his voice rough with need.

You grinned, your fingers tangling in his hair. “Make me regret it.”

He did. With a growl, he slammed into you, the sensation so intense it stole the breath from both of you. You cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders as he fucked you against the wall, each thrust driving you both closer to the edge. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, all he could do was feel.

The sight of him moving in and out of you sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, making the experience even more intense and euphoric.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice low and possessive, and you moaned, your body tightening around him as he drove you to the brink.

“Yours,” you gasped, your head falling back as the pleasure consumed you, and with one final thrust, you both came undone, the world-shattering around you.

For a short moment, there was nothing but the sound of your ragged breaths, your bodies still pressed together as you both came down from the high. 

Then you looked at him, your eyes dark with something he couldn’t quite place.

“What now?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart.

Tony Stark, the man who always had a plan, found himself at a loss for words. Because at that moment, he wasn’t sure if he’d just found

something he wanted—or something he needed. And he wasn’t sure which was more dangerous.

── .✦

Tony’s breath was still heavy as he pulled back, his eyes locked on yours. The heat between you hadn’t dissipated—if anything, it had only intensified. His mind raced, though not with the usual clarity of a man who had a plan for everything. No, this was different. This was raw.

“What now?” you repeated, your voice low, sultry, and laced with a challenge. Your fingers trailed down his chest, nails scraping lightly, sending shivers through him.

He caught your wrist, his grip firm but not harsh, and brought your hand to his lips. His kiss against your palm was slow, and deliberate, as if he was savoring the taste of your skin. “What if I told you I didn’t want this to end?” 

His voice was rough, edged with a hunger that surprised even him.

You tilted your head, a sly smile playing on your lips. “End? Honey, you’re in a strip club. Everything here is temporary.”

“Not everything,” he countered, his eyes narrowing as he stepped closer, his body pressing against yours again. He could feel the heat of you, the way your breath hitched just slightly as he leaned in. “What if I made it worth your while? Morethan just a private dance. More than just tonight.”

Your eyebrow arched, your lips curving into a smirk. “Oh? And what exactly are you proposing, Mr. Stark?”

He hesitated for a moment, but only a moment. Tony Stark wasn’t a man who second-guessed his decisions—he made them. “A partnership. A… mutually beneficial arrangement. I’ll take care of you. In every way.”

Your laugh was low, almost a purr. “A sugar daddy, huh? Bold move. And what do you get out of this little arrangement?”

His hand slid up your arm, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. “You. All of you. Whenever I want.”

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear. “And what if I want more than just your money?”

His grip tightened slightly, and you could feel the tension in his body, the way his breathing quickened. “Then you’ll get more.”

The air between you thickened, the unspoken promise of something deeper, something more than just a transaction. But before either of you could say another word, there was a sharp knock on the door, followed by Happy’s booming voice.

“Tony! Are you alive in there, man? Come on, the party’s not over yet!”

Tony stiffened, his jaw clenching. “Give me a minute, Happy,” he called back, his voice strained.

You pulled back slightly, your eyes gleaming with mischief. “Your friend’s impatient.”

“He’s not my friend,” Tony muttered, though the annoyance in his voice was mixed with something else—something that almost sounded like possessiveness. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer again. “Forget about him. We’re not done here.”

You laughed softly, your fingers playing with the collar of his shirt. “Oh, I think we’re very much done. For now.”

Before he could protest, you stepped out of his grasp, moving across the room with a fluid grace that left him mesmerized. You picked up your discarded heels and slipped them back on, the click of the heels against the floor echoing in the small room.

Tony watched you, his eyes dark with desire and frustration. “You’re just going to leave? After everything?”

You turned to him, your smile teasing. “Oh, don’t worry, Tony. If this arrangement of yours is as tempting as you say it is… you’ll see me again.”

The door handle jiggled, and Happy’s voice came through again louder this time. “Tony, I’m coming in!”

Your eyes met Tony’s one last time, and you winked. “Better make your move fast, sugar daddy.”

And with that, you slipped out the door, leaving Tony standing there, his mind racing and his body aching. Happy burst in a second later, his face flushed with excitement.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you. What’s the holdup, man?”

Tony turned to him, his expression unreadable. “Nothing. Let’s get out of here.”

But as they left the club, Tony couldn’t stop thinking about you—the way you moved, the way you’d challenged him, the way you’d left him wanting more. He wasn’t used to being the one left hanging, and he wasn’t sure if he liked it… or if it only made him want you more.

Later that night, as he lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, he pulled out his phone. His fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before he typed out a message.

I meant what I said. Let’s make this official.

He hesitated for a moment, then hit send. For the first time in a long time, Tony Stark wasn’t in control. And part of him wondered if that wasn’t exactly what he needed.

The screen lit up with a response almost immediately.

We’ll see.

Tony’s lips curved into a smile. The game had just begun, and he had no intention of losing.

But just as he was about to type out another message, she sent another text.

He glanced down at the screen, a slow smile spreading across his face.

‘Meet me tomorrow, the same place so we can discuss an arrangement.’

── .✦

The neon lights of the strip club pulsed like a heartbeat as Tony stepped inside, the bass from the music reverberating through his chest. He adjusted his cufflinks, the tailored suit hugging his frame as his eyes scanned the dimly lit room. The air was thick with the scent of perfume and sweat, a heady mix that only heightened the sense of anticipation tightening in his gut. She was here. He could feel it.

Happy clapped him on the back, his booming voice cutting through the thrum of the music. "You sure about this, Tony? I mean, I’m all for living it up, but this… this feels different."

Tony smirked, his confidence masking the flicker of doubt that had been gnawing at him since her message. "When have I ever been unsure, Happy? Relax. It’s just business."

"Business, huh?" Happy raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "Since when do you do business in a strip club?"

"Since it involves a woman who’s worth every penny," Tony replied, his gaze locking onto the stage as the music shifted. The spotlight illuminated her, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop.

She moved with a grace that was almost hypnotic, her body swaying to the rhythm like it was an extension of the music. Her skin glowed under the lights, her curves accentuated by the sheer fabric that clung to her like a second skin. Her eyes, dark and knowing, scanned the room until they landed on Tony. A slow, sultry smile played on her lips, and she tilted her head, beckoning him silently.

Tony’s breath hitched, his pulse quickening. She’s playing with fire, he thought, though he couldn’t deny the thrill it sent coursing through him.

"Go on, man," Happy said, his tone more hesitant than encouraging. "But remember what I said. Be careful."

Tony nodded, his focus already on her as he made his way to the edge of the stage. She descended gracefully, her movements deliberate as she approached him.

"Mr. Stark," she purred, her voice low and velvety, sending shivers down his spine. "I was hoping you’d come."

"The pleasure’s all mine," Tony replied, his voice steady despite the heat pooling in his abdomen. "Shall we?"

She tilted her head, her smile widening as she traced a finger along his tie. "So eager. I like that. Follow me."

She led him through a discreet door, the noise of the club fading into a muffled hum as they entered a private room. The space was lavishly decorated, with plush velvet chairs and low lighting creating an intimate atmosphere. She turned to face him, her gaze piercing as she stepped closer.

"Let’s talk business," she said, her voice a dangerous mix of sweetness and challenge.

Tony’s lips curved into a smirk. "Business, huh? I was hoping we could skip the formalities."

She laughed, a rich, melodic sound that made his chest tighten. 

"Patience, Mr. Stark. If this is going to work, we need to set some ground rules."

"Rules?" Tony arched an eyebrow, his hands sliding into his pockets. He was used to being the one in control, but with her, it felt like the power was shifting. She’s good, he thought, too good.

"Yes, rules," she said, stepping closer until they were inches apart. Her scent, a heady mix of jasmine and something distinctly her, filled his senses. "Rule number one: this isn’t just about money. If I’m going to let you take care of me, I want more than just your wallet."

Tony’s eyes narrowed, intrigued. "And what, exactly, are you looking for?"

She reached up, her fingers brushing against his jawline as she leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear. "I want someone who can keep up with me. Someone who’s not afraid to take risks. Someone who sees me as more than just a fantasy."

Her words sent a jolt of electricity through him, and he couldn’t help but pull her closer, his hands gripping her waist. "And if I’m that someone?"

She pulled back slightly, her eyes locking with his. "Then we’ll see where this goes. But remember, Mr. Stark, I’m not just some girl you can buy. If you want me, you’ll have to earn me."

Tony’s smirk widened, his confidence returning. "Challenge accepted."

Her lips curved into a smile, but before he could say another word, she stepped back, her movements fluid as she began to dance. Her hips swayed to the rhythm of the music, her hands sliding up her body as she peeled off the sheer fabric, revealing the lace beneath. Tony’s breath caught, his eyes devouring every inch of her as she moved closer, her body pressing against his.

"You’re not the only one who can be persuasive," she whispered, her lips brushing against his neck.

Tony groaned, his hands tightening on her waist as his body responded to her proximity. "You’re playing a dangerous game."

"And you’re not playing hard enough," she replied, her voice teasing as she pulled back, her eyes challenging him to take control.

Tony’s restraint snapped. He pulled her back, his lips crashing against hers in a heated kiss. She moaned into his mouth, her hands tangling in his hair as their bodies pressed together. The world faded away, leaving only the two of them, consumed by the intensity of the moment.

When they finally broke apart, her lips were swollen, her breathing ragged. "Looks like you’re finally catching on," she murmured, her eyes dark with desire.

"Only because you’re impossible to resist," Tony replied, his voice rough with need.

She smiled, her hands sliding down his chest. "Good. Now, let’s see if you can keep up."

And with that, she turned, leading him further into the room, into the darkness where the line between business and pleasure blurred, leaving Tony to wonder just how far he was willing to go for her...

JUST GIVE ME ONE CHANCE TONY PLSSSSSSS!!((#(#)#)#

(Credits: str5kk on TikTok)

Let me know if you have any other requests pls ‹𝟹

[ironinc]

Dangerous Riches.ᝰ.ᐟ 

Tony Stark x F!Black Reader. (Smut/NSFW)

˗ˏˋ You are married to Tony Stark, who leads a double life as a wealthy billionaire and a cunning drug lord. Despite being aware of his illegal business, your love for him clashes with your morals. Your life with him presents numerous challenges as you navigate the treacherous world of crime and grapple with the difficult decision of trusting him.

⤷ Oneshot, smut, oral sex, very detailed so here’s the warning! But it’s worth it. 

⤷ A/N: I got this inspo from the edit that I’m gonna leave down there v. I can’t beleive I haven’t hought of this sooner. I hope you all are enjoying you’re night! 

⤷ Word count: 2,430

⤷ Special song to add spice: All I Need by Lloyd

⟡

“Keep your eyes on me, baby,” Tony murmurs, his voice low and smooth, like velvet dipped in honey. His hand brushes against the small of your back, a subtle but possessive gesture that sends a shiver through you. 

You’re standing in the middle of his opulent penthouse, the city lights of New York twinkling like fallen stars through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind you. The air is thick with tension, the kind that makes your heart race and your skin prickle.

You don’t want to look away, but you can’t help it. Your gaze shifts to the man across the room—tall, broad-shouldered, with a scar running down his cheek. He’s not the kind of man you’d want to cross, and yet here he is, standing in your living room, making a deal with your husband.

Your husband. Tony Stark. The man who spoils you rotten, who buys you everything your heart desires, who makes you feel like a queen in his arms. And yet, the man who leads a double life, one that you’ve only glimpsed in the shadows until now.

“You’re staring,” Tony says, his voice cutting through the silence. His fingers tighten on your waist, pulling you closer to him. “Don’t.”

“Tony,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “What’s going on?”

“Business, baby. Just business.” He’s calm, too calm, and it’s unnerving. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

But you are worried. Because you’ve seen the way the other man looks at you like you’re a prize to be won. And you’ve heard the whispers, the rumors about Tony’s other life—the one that involves drugs, money, and power.

── .✦

It started, as most things do, with a gift.

Two weeks ago, Tony surprised you with the keys to a brand-new BMW i7. “For my queen,” he’d said, pressing the keys into your hand. You’d laughed, of course, because Tony was always lavish with his gifts. But there was something different about this one, something that made you pause.

You’d taken the car out for a spin, the engine purring beneath you, the smell of leather and money filling your senses. But when you’d pulled into a coffee shop downtown, you’d seen him—Tony, standing in the alleyway, talking to a man you didn’t recognize.

You’d watched, your heart pounding, as Tony handed over a briefcase, the man nodding before disappearing into the shadows.

You’d confronted him that night, of course. “What was that?” you’d asked, your voice shaking. “Tony, what are you involved in?

He’d kissed you then, his lips silencing your questions. “Don’t worry about it, baby,” he’d said, pulling you into his arms. “It’s just business.”

But it wasn’t just business. And tonight, standing in the penthouse, you’re starting to realize just how deep the rabbit hole goes.

── .✦

“You’ve got a beautiful wife, Stark,” the man across the room says, his voice rough and guttural. “She’s a keepsake.”

Tony’s grip on your waist tightens a silent warning. “She’s off-limits,” he says, his voice icy. “Don’t even think about it.”

The man laughs a deep, throaty sound that makes your skin crawl. 

“Relax, Stark. I’m just admiring the view.”

You swallow hard, your throat dry. You’ve always known Tony was a man of power, a man who got what he wanted. But seeing him like this—cold, calculating, dangerous—it’s both terrifying and exhilarating. You feel like you’re standing on the edge of a precipice, teetering between fear and desire.

“Go upstairs, baby,” Tony says, his voice soft but commanding. He hands you a thick envelope—cash, you know because Tony always gives you cash to keep you busy. “I’ll be up in a minute.”

You nod, your legs shaky as you make your way to the staircase. But you don’t go upstairs. Instead, you linger in the shadows, watching, listening.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Stark,” the man says, his tone serious now. “You think you can keep her out of this? She’s in it now, whether you like it or not.”

Tony doesn’t respond, but you can see the tension in his shoulders, and the way his jaw clenches. And then, in a voice so low you can barely hear it, he says, “She’s off-limits. If you touch her, I’ll kill you.”

Your heart stops. You’ve never heard Tony sound like that—so cold, so deadly. It sends a shiver down your spine, and yet, a part of you is drawn to it, to the power he exudes, the way he’d do anything to protect you.

── .✦

Later that night, you’re lying in bed, the silk sheets cool against your skin. Tony’s beside you, his body warm and solid as he pulls you into his arms.

“You’re shaking,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“I’m scared, Tony,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m scared.”

He sighs, his fingers tracing patterns on your back. “You don’t need to be scared, baby. I’ve got you. I’ll always protect you.”

But you’re not sure if that’s enough anymore. Because you’ve seen the other side of Tony, the side that’s dark and dangerous. And you’re not sure if you can love that side of him, or if you even should.

“Tony,” you say, your voice trembling. “What are you involved in? Tell me the truth.”

He’s silent for a moment, his fingers stilling on your skin. And then, in a voice that’s heavy with regret, he says, “It’s complicated, baby. But you’re my wife. My queen. I’d do anything for you.”

“Anything?” you ask, your heart pounding.

“Anything,” he repeats, his voice firm. “But you have to trust me.”

You want to trust him. You really do. But as you lie in his arms, the weight of his words pressing down on you, you’re not sure if you can.

── .✦

The roses arrived the next morning, a dozen deep crimson blooms wrapped in black tissue paper. A card was tucked among the thorns, the handwriting bold and slashing: For the most beautiful woman in New York, with admiration—Unknown. You froze, the card slipping from your fingers as your heart thudded in your chest. The scent of the roses was intoxicating, but it only made your stomach churn.

Tony walked in just as you were staring at the arrangement, his sharp eyes immediately locking onto the flowers. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, the room felt colder. “Who sent those?” he asked, his voice low and deceptively calm.

You swallowed hard, knowing there was no point in lying. “There was a card. It said… ‘Unknown.’”

Tony’s expression darkened, and you could see the storm brewing behind his eyes. He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming as he plucked one of the roses from the arrangement. He twirled it between his fingers, his gaze never leaving yours. “Unknown, huh?” he said, his voice dripping with menace. “That scarred bastard thinks he can send my wife flowers? What the fuck does he think he’s doing?”

You felt a shiver run down your spine, the intensity of his jealousy both terrifying and thrilling. “Tony, I don’t know what he’s trying to do. Maybe it’s just a game to him.”

He scoffed, tossing the rose onto the table. “A game?” he repeated, stepping so close you could feel the heat of his body. “He’s trying to play with me. And he thinks he can use you to do it.” His hands gripped your hips, pulling you flush against him. “But he doesn’t know who he’s messing with.”

You could feel the tension radiating off him, his possessive jealousy igniting something primal inside you. His lips crashed onto yours in a searing kiss, rough and demanding. You gasped into his mouth, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he backed you toward the wall.

His hands were everywhere, sliding under your shirt and peeling it off in one swift motion. His lips trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he growled, “You’re mine. Do you understand? No one else gets to touch you. No one else gets to look at you like that.”

You nodded breathlessly, your body arching into his as his fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down. “Tony,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need.

He stepped back just long enough to shed his own clothes, his eyes never leaving yours. “You belong to me,” he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a thrill through you. “And I’m going to remind you of that.”

He picked you up effortlessly, carrying you to the large dining table and clearing it with one sweep of his arm. The vase of roses toppled to the floor, shattering as he laid you down on the cool surface. His hands pinned yours above your head, his grip firm but not painful. “You see those flowers?” he asked, his voice dark and commanding. “They’re nothing compared to what I’m about to give you.”

His lips found yours again, his kiss hot and insistent as he let go of your wrists and began to explore your body with his hands. His fingers trailed down your sides, grazing over your sensitive skin before dipping between your thighs. You gasped, your legs parting instinctively as he stroked you, his touch deliberate and unyielding.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he demanded, his voice rough with desire.

“You,” you breathed, your hips lifting off the table as his fingers worked their magic. “I belong to you, Tony.”

He growled in approval, his lips moving to your breasts as he continued to tease you. His tongue flicked over your nipple, sending a jolt of pleasure through you as he sucked hard. You moaned, your fingers tangling in his hair as he lavished attention on your sensitive flesh.

He pulled back suddenly, his eyes blazing as he reached into the drawer of the table and pulled out a silk scarf. You recognized it immediately—it was one of the expensive ones he’d bought for you on your last shopping spree. But now, he had a different use for it.

“Trust me,” he said, his voice soft but firm as he tied your wrists together with the scarf. You nodded, your heart racing as he secured them to the leg of the table. You were completely at his mercy, and the thought sent a rush of heat through your core.

He stepped back, his eyes roaming over your bound body with unmistakable hunger. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “And you’re all mine.”

He knelt between your legs, his hands parting your thighs as he leaned in. His breath was hot against your skin, and you squirmed in anticipation. 

But he didn’t give you what you wanted just yet. Instead, he began to tease you with his tongue, flicking lightly over your clit before pulling away.

“Tony, please,” you begged, your hips lifting off the table in desperation.

He chuckled, the sound dark and sinful. “You’re so eager,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

He leaned in again, this time taking you into his mouth with a slow, deliberate motion. You cried out, your back arching off the table as he lavished attention on your most sensitive spot. His tongue moved in expert circles, his hands gripping your hips to keep you still as he devoured you.

The pleasure was building quickly, your body trembling as he worked you closer and closer to the edge. But just as you were about to tip over, he pulled away, leaving you gasping and desperate.

“Tony!” you moaned, your voice breaking with frustration.

He stood, his expression smug as he looked down at you. “Patience, baby,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “You’re not done yet.”

He positioned himself between your legs, his erection pressing against your entrance. He paused for a moment, his eyes locking onto yours. “Tell me again,” he demanded, his voice rough with need.

“I’m yours,” you breathed, your voice trembling with desire. “I belong to you, Tony.”

He growled in approval, his hands gripping your hips as he thrust into you in one smooth motion. You cried out, the sensation was overwhelming as he filled you completely. He set a relentless pace, his hips slamming into yours with a primal urgency that left you breathless.

The table rocked with the force of his thrusts, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. You could feel the pleasure building inside you again, your body tightening around him as he drove you closer to the edge.

“That’s it, baby,” he grunted, his voice rough with exertion. “Come for me. Let me feel you.”

His words were all it took to send you over the edge, your body convulsing as pleasure exploded through you. He followed soon after, his hips stuttering as he spilled himself inside you with a low groan.

He collapsed onto the table beside you, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. His hands moved to untie the scarf, his touch gentle now as he freed your wrists. He pulled you into his arms, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, his voice filled with possessiveness and something else—something softer. “No one else gets to touch you. No one else gets to have you.”

You nestled into his chest, your body still trembling from the intensity of what had just happened. “I know, Tony,” you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of fear and desire. “I’m yours.”

But somewhere in the back of your mind, a tiny voice whispered—what happens when ‘yours’ means more than you can handle?

As if sensing your thoughts, Tony pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. “You okay, baby?” he asked, his voice softer now, more concerned.

You hesitated, your mind racing as you tried to find the words. “I… I don’t know, Tony. This is all so much. The roses, that man, the things you do… I’m scared.”

He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks.

 “I know it’s a lot,” he said, his voice gentle. “But I’ll protect you. No matter what.”

You wanted to believe him, wanted to trust that he could keep you safe in this dangerous world he’d dragged you into. But as you looked into his eyes, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the storm was only just beginning. Unknown wasn’t going to back down, and neither was Tony. 

And you were caught right in the middle.

This was the edit- CAN YOU SEE IT TOO?? GAHHHHH!!@(#(( I need that... my toes are CURLINGGGG.

(Credits: Jaffyae on TikTok)

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ I'll see you later ‹𝟹

[ironinc]

Desire in the Web.ᝰ.ᐟ 

Spider-man x F!Black Reader. (Smut/NSFW)

˗ˏˋ As a villain, you've been causing trouble for Spider-Man, but lately, things have taken a turn. There's a growing tension and attraction between you two. Spider-Man is torn between his heroic duties and the desire that's building inside him. You decide to use this to your advantage, taunting and toying with him as you plot your possible escape.

⤷ Oneshot, smut, oral sex, very detailed so here’s the warning!

⤷ A/N: I saw that y’all liked my Peter Parker/Spiderman story so I wanted to make another one! I also want to do something different. And he’s aged up to 20! This is for my bestie Mia-Mia as well!! I know you're gonna love this one.

⤷ Word count: 2,795

⤷ Special song to add spice: Harleys In Hawaii by Katty Perry

⏦ﾟ♡︎

You’re trapped. His webs cling to your arms, and your legs, pinning you against the cold brick wall of the alleyway. The rain is coming down in sheets, soaking through your suit, and you can smell the metallic tang of the city mingling with the earthy dampness around you. 

Spider-Man. Of course, it’s him. Always him. He lands in front of you with that infuriatingly confident stance, his mask hiding everything but the tension in his jaw. You know that tension isn’t just about stopping you. It’s different tonight. Deeper.

"Well," you drawl, your voice dripping with mockery, "looks like the neighborhood hero finally caught me. What’s the plan, Spider? Take me in? Lecture me about how I’m on the wrong path?"

He doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he steps closer. His red and blue suit glistened under the dim streetlight. His gloved fingers twitch slightly, and you can feel the heat of his body even through the rain. 

He’s hesitating. You’ve seen this before, the way he lingers just a little too long, the way his eyes—those damn eyes—seem to linger on you even when he’s trying to focus on the mission.

"You’re not getting away this time," he finally says, his voice low and strained. It’s not just determination in his tone. There’s something else. Something you’ve been intentionally stoking for weeks now.

"Oh, I’m not?" You tilt your head, your lips curling into a smirk. "You sure about that, Spider? Because you’ve had me in this position before, and yet… here I am again. Funny how that works."

He growls a sound that’s more frustration than anger and takes another step forward. The rain is plastering his mask to his face, and you can see the outline of his lips, the way they’re pressed into a tight line. Perfect.

"You’re playing a dangerous game," he warns, his voice dropping even lower.

"Dangerous?" You laugh, the sound echoing off the walls of the alley. 

"This isn’t dangerous, Spider. This is… fun. And I think you’re starting to enjoy it too."

His hands clench into fists, but he doesn’t move. You’re close enough now that if you leaned forward, you could kiss him. Not that you would. Not yet. 

You’re savoring this, the push and pull, the way he’s fighting himself more than he’s fighting you.

"You think I don’t see what you’re doing?" he snaps, finally breaking the silence. "You’re trying to mess with my head. It’s not going to work."

"Is that what I’m doing?" You feign innocence, batting your lashes. 

"Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re the one who can’t keep his eyes off me. Or is that just the hero complex talking?"

He exhales sharply, a sound that’s almost a growl, and then before you can react, his hand is on your throat. Not hard, but firm enough to make your breath catch. Finally.

"You’re pushing me," he warns, his voice almost a whisper.

"Or maybe," you purr, your voice trembling slightly but still laced with defiance, "you’re just tired of pretending you don’t want this."

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of the rain and the ragged rhythm of your breathing.

Suddenly he pulls his mask halfway up. Only exposing his lips. Then, his lips crash into yours, rough and desperate, and you can feel the heat of him through the suit. His other hand is on your waist, pulling you closer, regardless of you being trapped in his webs. You can feel the hardness of him pressing against you.

It’s not gentle. It’s not sweet. It’s raw, animalistic, the kind of kiss that leaves you breathless and aching. His tongue invades your mouth, and you bite down hard, drawing a low groan from him.

He pulls back, his chest heaving, and for a moment, you think he’s going to stop, to walk away. But then his hands are on your hips, lifting you effortlessly, and your back is hitting the wall again, the cold brick a sharp contrast to the heat of his body.

"Spider," you gasp, your voice trembling, "you’re going to regret this."

"I already do," he growls, and then his mouth is on your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as his hands work to free you from the webs. They’ll take a while to dissolve, but he doesn’t seem to care, his hands slipping under your clothes, his fingers rough and demanding.

"You’re going to hate yourself tomorrow," you whisper, your nails digging into his shoulders.

"Maybe," he says, his breath hot against your ear, "but right now, I don’t give a damn."

His hands are on your ass now, lifting you higher, and you wrap your legs around his waist, grinding against him. The friction is electric, and you can feel the tension in his body, the way he’s holding back, barely.

You were getting wetter by the second.

"Fuck me," you demand, your voice low and throaty. "Right here. Right now."

He growls a sound that sends shivers down your spine, and then his fingers are working at the bottom of your suit. Pullingthem down just enough to expose you. He’s fumbling with his suit, his movements hurried and clumsy, and then he’s inside you, filling you in one rough thrust. 

You cry out, the sound swallowed by the rain, and your nails dig into his back. He’s not gentle, not this time, his thrusts are hard and unrelenting, each one driving you closer to the edge.

You can feel the tension building in your body, the heat coiling in your core, and you know he’s feeling it too, the way his breath is coming in short, ragged gasps.

"Look at you," you whisper, your voice trembling, "the great Spider-Man, fucking the villain he’s supposed to stop. What would your fans think?"

He growls, his hips slamming into yours with even more force, and you can feel the sting of the brick wall against your back, the ache in your legs as you cling to him. But you don’t care. You don’t care about the pain, the rain, the danger. All you care about is the man in front of you, the way he’s losing control, the way he’s giving in to the desire he’s been fighting for so long.

"Harder," you demand, your voice breaking, and he obliges, his thrusts becoming even more brutal, driving you closer and closer to the edge. 

His moans were like a drug, and the feel of his hands on you was intoxicating. His possessive and affectionate touch was both thrilling and comforting.

You can feel it building, the tension in your body, the heat in your core, and then it’s too much, too overwhelming, and you’re coming, your body shuddering against his.

He follows you over the edge, his body tensing, his thrusts becoming erratic, and then he’s collapsing against you, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of the rain and the pounding of your heart.

And then he pulls back, his mask still plastered to his face, his eyes dark and unreadable. "This doesn’t change anything," he says, his voice low and dangerous.

"Oh, Spider," you whisper, your lips curling into a smirk, "I think it changes everything."

── .✦

The rain had stopped, leaving the streets glistening under the dim glow of streetlights. Spider-Man stood there, his suit still clinging to his skin, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. You, the villain, leaned against the damp brick wall, your smirk never wavering. The air between you was thick with tension, a dangerous cocktail of desire and rivalry.

"You’re always so predictable, Spider," you purred, your voice low and sultry. "Always chasing after little old me. But tell me…" You stepped closer, your hips swaying with every step, the sound of your heels clicking against the wet pavement echoing in the alley. "What would you do if I stopped running?"

His eyes narrowed under the mask, but you could see the flicker of curiosity—and something darker—behind them. "What are you getting at?" he asked, his voice steady but with a hint of intrigue.

You reached out, your fingers grazing the fabric of his suit, feeling the heat radiating from his body. "Come with me," you whispered, leaning in so close that your breath ghosted over the edge of his mask. "Just for tonight. Let me show you what it feels like to let go."

He hesitated, his jaw tightening as he weighed his options. You could see the conflict in him, the struggle between his duty and the pull of whatever this was between you. Then, finally, he nodded. "Lead the way."

Your smirk widened as you turned, walking confidently down the alley, knowing he would follow. The city buzzed around you, but it felt distant and irrelevant. All that mattered was the game you were playing, the one you were determined to win.

Your lair was hidden in plain sight, an unassuming building in the heart of the city. Inside, it was a different story—a sleek, modern space filled with cutting-edge technology and decadent touches.

You led him through the dimly lit rooms, the air thick with the scent of leather and something faintly floral. Finally, you stopped in a room dominated by a large, circular bed, the walls made entirely of glass, overlooking the city skyline.

"Impressive," Spider-Man said, his voice tinged with caution. "But this doesn’t mean I trust you."

You laughed, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver down his spine. "Oh, Spider, you don’t have to trust me. You justhave to let go."

You moved closer, your body brushing against his as you reached up to trace the edge of his mask. "Take it off," you murmured, your voice dripping with temptation. "Let me see you."

He hesitated again, his breathing growing shallow. Then, slowly, he peeled the mask off, revealing Peter Parker’s face—youthful, vulnerable, and undeniably handsome. You stared at him for a moment, savoring the way his eyes flickered with uncertainty and desire.

"Beautiful," you whispered, though you knew better than to let him hear it. Instead, you closed the distance between you, your lips crashing against his in a searing kiss. He groaned into your mouth, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you closer.

The kiss was fierce, and desperate, a battle for dominance that neither of you was willing to lose. Your hands slid under his suit, feeling the hard planes of his chest, the way his muscles tensed under your touch. He broke the kiss, his breathing ragged as he stared at you, his eyes dark with hunger.

"Tell me what you want," he growled, his voice rough with need.

You smirked, your hands trailing down his chest to the waistband of his suit. "I want to see you beg," you whispered, your voice a low, dangerous purr.

He let out a choked laugh, but there was no humor in it. "You’re playing with fire."

"And yet," you murmured, your fingers toying with the edge of his suit, "you’re the one who’s burning."

Before he could respond, you pushed him down onto the bed, climbing on top of him with a predatory grace. You leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear. "Let me show you what it feels like to lose control."

And then you kissed him again, harder this time, your hips grinding against his, feeling the way he hardened beneath you. His hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you closer, his body arching against yours.

This is it, you thought, your mind hazy with desire. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for.

You pulled back, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps. "Take off the suit," you commanded, your voice firm and unyielding.

He hesitated for only a moment before obeying, stripping off the suit and tossing it aside, leaving him bare before you. You took in the sight of him—his lean, muscular frame, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, the way his cock stood hard and ready against his stomach.

"Perfect," you murmured, more to yourself than to him. Then you leaned down, your hands sliding up his thighs, feeling the way they trembled under your touch. "Now, let’s see how long you can last."

You wrapped your hand around him, stroking him slowly, savoring the way his breath hitched and his hips bucked into your touch. His hands gripped the sheets, his knuckles turning white as he tried to hold back, to keep control.

"Don’t fight it," you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear. "Let go."

And then you took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the tip before sliding down the length of him. He moaned, his hips jerking upward as you took him deeper, your hand moving in tandem with your mouth. He was thick, his cock filling your mouth as you worked him, every stroke driving him closer to the edge.

"Fuck," he groaned, his hands perfectly grabbing your braids as he tried to hold you still, but you pulled back, teasing him with the tip before plunging down again. He cried out, his body tensing as he tried to control himself, but you were relentless, your mouth and hand working in perfect sync.

"You’re so close," you murmured, pulling back to look at him, your lips swollen and glistening. "But I’m not done with you yet."

You climbed off him, ignoring his protest as you turned around, straddling his chest. You leaned down, your breasts brushing against his face as you whispered, "Your turn."

He didn’t need any more encouragement, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you down onto his face, his tongue delving into you with a hunger that matched your own. You moaned, your hands tangling in his hair as he licked and sucked, his tongue driving you wild.

"Don’t stop," you gasped, your hips grinding against his face as his tongue worked its magic. You could feel the heat building in your core, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until it was almost unbearable.

I’m so close, you thought, your mind hazy with pleasure. Just a little more…

And then he slid a finger inside you, curling it just right, and you were coming, your body shuddering as waves of pleasure crashed over you. He didn’t stop, his tongue and fingers continuing to work you through your orgasm until you were a trembling, gasping mess.

You rolled off him, your body still trembling as you caught your breath. He stared at you, his chest rising and falling, his eyes dark with hunger. 

"You’re insatiable," he muttered, his voice rough with need.

You smirked, your hand trailing down his chest to his cock, feeling the way it twitched under your touch. "And you’re far from done," you murmured, your voice a low, dangerous purr. "Now, let’s see how much you can take."

You climbed on top of him, guiding him into you, your breath hitching as he filled you completely. He groaned, his hands gripping your hips as you moved, your bodies sliding together in perfect sync. The sound of skin against skin filled the room, mingling with your breathy moans and his choked gasps.

"Fuck," he muttered, his hands sliding up your body to grip your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. "You’re… unbelievable."

You leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear. "And you’re mine," you whispered, your voice a low, dangerous purr. "Even if it’s just for tonight."

He groaned, his hips bucking upward as you moved, your bodies sliding together in a perfect rhythm. The sound of skin against skin filled the room still. Mingling with your breathy moans and his choked gasps. You could feel the tension building inside you again, your body coiling tighter and tighter as he thrust into you, his cock hitting that perfect spot deep inside you.

“Surrender to me,” he growled, his hands gripping your hips as he thrust harder, deeper. "Let go."

And then you were coming again, your body shuddering as waves of pleasure crashed over you. He followed you over the edge, his body tensing as he spilled inside you, his grip on your hips almost painful as he held you still.

You collapsed on top of him, your bodies still trembling as you caught your breath. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your breathing and the steady thrum of your hearts.

And then he spoke, his voice low and dangerous. "This doesn’t change anything."

You smirked, your lips brushing against his ear. "Oh, Spider," you whispered, your voice dripping with amusement. "I told you—it changes everything."

HAHAHHSHDDHSHDHUWDHU. IM BITING MY LAPTOP RN- THIS IS SO GOOD. I hope you all AGREE!!!

(Credits: Aylaksu141 on TikTok)

See you later ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ