DisasterZone

21

[liliesonthego]

Peter Parker / Want me to teach you? ── 18+ (MDNI)

Summary ⟅ You discover that Peter has never given head before, and being the kind, generous friend you are, you offer to teach him.

Sub!Peter Parker x Best friend!Reader /  ⟣ SMUT / 2.9k ⟢

Warnings: no spoilers, peter uses his spidey-sense to eat you out (walk with me), cunnilingus, oral (fem receiving), praise, sub!peter, pussy drunk!peter, he cums his pants, overstimulation, virgin!peter, mutual pining

Lily's note — 🪷 i can't believe im on my third fic RELEASE ME FROM THE CHOKEHOLD

"Wait... what did you just say?"

You whipped your head to look at Peter beside you on the couch, your eyes narrowed into slits, unsure if you heard him correctly.

He kept his eyes locked onto the wall in front of him, his cheeks heating under your intense stare. He cleared his throat before repeating himself, “I said I wouldn't know.”

The admission came after you finished ranting about your stupid ex boyfriend, listing every single thing he was bad at, specifically his inability to eat you out properly. 

“Is it really that difficult?” you’d asked aloud, not actually expecting him to answer. But then came his surprising response.

Peter gathered his courage and tore his gaze away from the wall to look at where your narrowed eyes were still glued to him. He chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “I-Is it that surprising?”

You snapped out of your shocked state. A small pool of guilt settled in your stomach at the way you’d reacted, he was obviously embarrassed, but you just couldn't believe it.

“Wait—so you’ve never… gone down on a girl?”

The flush on his cheeks darkened as he shook his head, swallowing the nervous lump in his throat.

“Like, you’ve never given head?”

His brows rose when you repeated yourself, and just before he could form a response, you were speaking again.

“As in, you’ve never eaten a girl's pussy out—” 

He clamped a hand over your mouth, forcing you into silence, cringing at how blunt you were being. 

“Oh my god, I already said yes! Do you have to be so—hey!” He ripped his hand away when you licked a stripe up his palm with your tongue.

You laughed as he wiped his hand on his pant leg, leaning over to rest a comforting hand on his shoulder. He stiffened under your touch for a fraction of a second, his breath catching as the warmth of your palm sank into his skin. 

“Sorry Pete, I’m just surprised.”

He exhaled a sharp chuckle, fidgeting with a loose thread on the couch to distract himself from the conversation. “Surprised? Why?”

“Well,” you started, shifting your hand to the back of his neck, toying with the curls there. “I guess the better question is why haven't you?”

A shiver ran down his spine at your soft touch, his heart beating faster. “J-Just,” he cleared his throat to calm his shaky voice. “The opportunity never came I guess.”

“The opportunity never came?” you repeated, bewildered. “You’re literally Spiderman! I’m sure you could have anyone you wanted.”

Not anyone, he thought, smiling bitterly. Your ex boyfriend made sure of it when he managed to get to you first before Peter could pluck up the courage to ask you out. But now you were single—the realization slammed into him.

The room settled into silence with you still lightly caressing his hair, your fingers scratching at his scalp now. His eyes fluttered shut as he sank into the feeling, a small, breathy sigh escaping him.

“Do you want me to teach you?”

His eyes shot open. He stared at you, waiting for you to pull your hand away and tease him for falling for your joke. But you only looked at him with a soft, patient smile, your eyes glimmering under the low light of his apartment.

“W-What?” he stuttered.

You bit back your smile, adjusting yourself on the couch to shift closer to him. “Do you want me to teach you how to eat a girl out?”

His eyes flicked to your lips then back up quickly. “Haha, I um… A-Are you being serious right now?”

You bit your lip with a nod. “Dead serious. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t help you? Your future girl will thank you for learning.”

The universe must be playing some cruel joke on him. He was seconds away from screaming I only want you in your face, but something told him that wouldn’t go over well. Instead, with a hopeful lilt of his mouth, he said,  “O-Okay. If you’re okay with that. N-No pressure… or anything…” 

Your heart ached with fondness at how awkward he was being. You stood up in front of him, holding a hand out for him to take which he merely stared at. You glanced down to where his hands were clasped tightly together, positioned snugly over his lap. 

Oh.

You licked your lips, reaching down to tug his hand free, your gaze fixed on his lap as his hand moved to reveal the boner he was concealing, his bulge pushing insistently against his pants.

“I’m sorry!” he rushed out. “I-It just happened and—god I’m acting like such a loser—”

“Peter,” you grabbed his chin, tilting his head up to you, the sight of his big, shiny, round eyes causing a warm ache to settle low in your belly. “It’s okay. I’m flattered, actually.”

You smiled reassuringly and tugged him up, leading him to his bed. When you were both stood at the foot, you turned to face him, your fingers intertwining with his.

“Hey, are you sure this is okay? We can stop and pretend like this never happened… just say the word.”

He took in a deep, trembling breath, exhaling it with a small chuckle. “You’re asking me if I’m okay with a super pretty girl teaching me to—” 

You raised your brows at him expectantly, laughing when he struggled to vocalize what was about to happen.

He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly. “Yes. Yes I’m okay with that. Very okay with it actually…”

You grinned at him through your lashes, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to his cheek, satisfied with the spaced out expression on his face when you pulled back.

“Okay, Spiderman, let’s see if you’re good at this too!”

He groaned, clenching his eyes shut. “Don’t call me that.”

When they opened, they grew in alarm at the sight of you slipping your bottoms down your legs. His gaze shot back up to your face when he realized you’d pulled down your panties too, his skin burning hot. 

You gave his hand a final squeeze before sitting down on the bed, pushing yourself back to rest against the headboard. 

He kept his eyes locked onto yours, his breaths coming in sharper as he saw you part your thighs from the fuzzy part of his vision. A moan threatened to escape him, his cock twitching excitedly in his pants.

“Peter,” you whispered, “Look at me.”

With a deep breath, he let his gaze trail down slowly over your neck, your shirt clad torso, until finally they rested between your spread thighs, your cunt dripping with arousal.

He was drunk on the sight, a rush of dizziness flowing through him when you let out a breathy pant, your clit pulsating at the way he was taking you in like you were the most mesmerizing painting hung in the Louvre.

“Do you see how wet I am already, Peter?” 

His hand twitched at his side when you lowered your own to your cunt, running a finger through your folds to collect your slick, holding it up in the air for him to see.

“Mmm, all for you,” you sighed. “Come here.”

His feet that were seemingly glued to the ground broke free of their spell as he rushed forward, planting his knees on the bed. 

“On your stomach, lay between my thighs.”

He obeyed your command, his pulse thumping quickly in his ears. The moment his head hovered close enough to your pussy, he breathed in deep, his eyes screwing shut at the way your intoxicating scent filled his nostrils. 

When he opened them you were staring at him with parted lips, your chest rising and falling heavily.

“Sorry…was that weird,” he apologized. “It’s just… my senses are enhanced and you just smell so…” He breathed in again, exhaling with a soft whimper.

Your cunt tensed, squeezing around nothing as the pleasure burned through you. You could see the worry still brewing in his eyes so you reached down to press a hand to his head, running your fingers affectionately through his curls. “It wasn’t weird.”

He smiled with relief, his eyes flicking back to your heat, waiting earnestly for your first instruction. 

“Start with some kisses,” you murmured, “Right here… and here.” You pointed to your swollen bud, then down to your slick folds.

He nodded, eyes all hopeful and bright. His lips brushed against your inner thigh first—a sweet, unexpected chaste kiss that made your heart flutter. Then he moved in, his lips ghosting your heat. The second kiss landed just below your clit, a little hesitant but soft, missing the target, but you didn’t care. Not with how gently he was treating you. 

You sighed with pleasure, your head falling back against the headboard to watch him through half-lidded eyes.

The third kiss was firmer, his lips pressing right over your center, sending electricity shooting through your body. You gasped, your hips lifting off the bed.

“God, yes, Peter,” you moaned, your fingers tightening in his curls. “Just like that, you’re doing so good.”

He whimpered at the praise, his hips involuntarily pressing harder against the mattress below him, unbeknownst to you.

“Now taste me,” you instructed, your voice slightly wobbly. “Lick through my folds. It might be a little salty, okay?”

He nodded, his nose nudging your clit, as his tongue slipped past his lips. The first swipe was agonizingly slow, the muscle exploring through your soaked slit. 

You gasped, your back arching as he hummed, the taste of you—an intoxicating mix of musky, sweet, and salty—flooded his enhanced senses. His next lick came quicker, a broad stroke that gathered your arousal on his tongue. He repeated the action until he was lapping at you eagerly, drinking in your juices, his soft whimpers muffled against your cunt.

“Yes… oh f-fuck, Peter… you’re a natural.” Your body shifted, writhing on the bed. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, spreading you more open while holding you still as he feasted. His hips circled on the bed, building to a steady pace until he was rutting desperately, the friction a sweet torture on his trapped, aching cock.

“O-Okay,” you panted, your vision blurring. “Here’s my clit… use your tongue, rub it in circles.”

He dove in, his tongue flattening against the bundle of nerves before circling it slowly. A sharp, white-hot pleasure shot through you, your moans growing louder, shifting to high-pitched cries.

“S-So good—mmngh… Just like tha—oh!” You bucked your hips against his mouth, his grip tightening even more. “Now j-just, flick… flick your… fuuuck—”

You tried to form words, to guide him forward, but all you could manage was a broken stream of cries. It felt too good, the heat in your belly coiling tighter with each perfect rotation of his tongue.

He glanced up the length of your body, fixing on your face to watch the pleasure overtake you, your lashes fluttering as your eyes rolled back. He parted from your clit to ask what to do next when a familiar electric prickle ticked at his brain. His focus zeroed into your clit, feeling the frantic pulses, sensing the desperate clenches of your inner walls. 

Woah, he thought, not knowing his spidey sense could be used for anything but danger.

It was like a switch went off in him. He dove back in, this time with expert flicks focused on your sensitive nub. He didn’t have to think anymore, guided by his sharp instincts.

“P-Peter! Oh my g-god!” You screamed, pushing his face harder into your cunt, grinding yourself against his mouth. He mewled against your clit, the sound making your vision turn fuzzy, bright stars clouding it.

You whined when he pulled away from your clit until his tongue dove lower, licking around your hole. He slurped up the arousal, then pressed the tip of his tongue into your tight walls, poking and teasing.

“Yes yes yes, right there… please,” you begged.

He pressed harder until his tongue slipped inside, fucking you with it in shallow thrusts. You rocked your hips over him, riding his face to force him in deeper, your thighs trembling around his head.

He gasped against your cunt, a breathy, wanton cry, the sounds helpless and needy, as he rubbed his cock faster into the sheets, his pre-cum soaking through the sweatpants.

“You’re doing so good,” you chanted, “Eating me out so perfectly… such a good boy… my good boy, Peter…”

He held you tighter as he whimpered into your cunt at the praise, his hips jerking wildly before his body seized. Heat flooded his underwear, his climax pushing through him with an intensity he’d never felt before.

But even as his cock pulsed over and over again, he kept working you open. 

He dragged his lips back to your clit, sucking the throbbing nub into his mouth, laving at it in tune with the aftershocks of his own body.

Your own release was within reach, dangling dangerously over the edge while he alternated between hard sucks and flicks of his tongue. 

“So pretty, nggh, taste so good,” he mumbled, and the sentence alone was enough to make you fall.

Your stomach buckled, your cunt convulsing with hard, fluttering clenches. He splayed a large hand over your stomach, holding you still as you came, his tongue never ceasing its relentless, worshipful assault.

“Peter… Peter,” you gasped, your clit burning as the pleasure curled into a sharp, sweet pain. “Cant! H-Hurts! ‘S too m-much!”

His brain went foggy, blocking out your cries as your cunt consumed him, losing himself in the taste and feel of you, licking and sucking long after your climax had passed. You groaned, your thighs clamping around his head.

You pushed him back as he gasped to catch his breath. 

“Too much, baby… too much.”

His eyes glossed over at the pet name, his cheek falling to rest on your trembling thigh. He blinked up at you, his face flushed and blissed out, his nose, lips, and chin glistening with your arousal.

He carefully began to rub your thigh absentmindedly, his touch tender as he gazed at you, the devastating weight of love held in his eyes. 

You played with the sweat-damp curls as you caught your breath, your body still twitching every few seconds with lasting pulses of pleasure. 

A small, incredulous smile spread across your lips, growing to spread across your face. 

“Wow,” you whispered, your voice wrecked. “Were you lying about not knowing how to do that?”

The accusation brought him back faster than the speed of light. He shot up, panicked, scrambling to his knees. “What? N-No! Of course not! I swear I—look my tingle—” He stopped when he saw your grin. The tension drained from him, replaced by a sigh of relief. “You’re joking…”

You laughed, soft and breathless. “I’ve never come like that before.”

His chest swelled with pride. He sat back on his heels, a goofy, triumphant smile appearing on his wet lips. 

You glanced down, your smile faltering at the wet patch at his crotch. 

“Peter… did you…?”

He looked down, mortification instantly flooding him, his cheeks tinting crimson all over again. He hadn’t even realized he came, lost in pleasuring you. His throat went dry as he stammered to pull together an explanation, an apology.

Before he could, you reached for him, your hand curling around his neck to pull him close. He  held his breath as his lips brushed yours.

“You came in your pants, just from eating me out?” You asked in a hush whisper, a smirk breaking through. “That’s so hot, Peter.”

You swallowed his whimper, pressing your lips to his. 

They were soft and insistent against his still ones, his brain short-circuiting before he pulled himself together, parting his lips for you. You dipped your tongue against his, tasting the remnants of your arousal as he melted into you, his hands coming up to cradle your face. He kissed you back needily, pouring every bit of his longing into it until you gently broke away.

You ran your thumb over his swollen lips, your brows creasing. You looked oddly… shy. 

You gnawed at your lip before sighing. “Is… is now a bad time to tell you that I like you?”

He stilled, his eyes staring into yours, unblinking and full of disbelief. 

You misread the silence. “I, um… I noticed with my ex that I’d compare him to you with everything he did. That’s why we got into that last fight and broke up. Because I realized… I liked you.” You dipped your head with a sad chuckle. “Sorry. I guess I ruined it, huh?”

“No!” He screamed, so loud and sudden, you flinched. “No, no, no, I—I like you too. I have for a while,” he exhaled a sigh of relief, a happy smile forcing its way to his lips. “I didn’t think you felt the same…”

Your grin returned, brighter than ever. You kissed him again, slower this time, sliding down until your back was pressed to the mattress, his hovering over you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pressing his bulge, his cock already half-hard again, against your sensitive, spent cunt. 

You smirked at him, a playful glint in your eye. “So… do you need me to teach you how to do this?” you asked, nodding down to where you were joined together.

Your laugh died down when he didn’t react to your joke as you expected. He just stared with a hopeful, wide-eyed vulnerability that told you everything you needed to know.

“O-Oh,” you breathed, your heart swelling, threatening to burst with affection. “You’re a…virgin?”

He gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.

Your eyes turned giddy, filled with a look of pure joy. You cupped his face, pulling him down for another kiss, whispering against his lips, “I’m gonna have so much fun with you.”

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[softguarnere]

Between Memory and Longing

Peter Parker x Stark!reader

Summary: Peter tells himself that this isn’t morally wrong – he knew if you could remember him that you would hire him because, bleeding heart that you are, you’re always willing to help a friend in need. But the problem is, you didn’t remember him. Which puts him in some morally grey territory that he tries not to let keep him up at night. 

Turns out, he’s not the only one being kept awake at night. 

A/N: Listen . . . I am so unwell after this movie lol. And as someone who really loved the Peter Parker x Stark!reader fics back in high school, I wanted to pay tribute to those wonderful fanfic roots by exploring what might happen between a Stark!reader and Peter in BND. And yes, that involved changing the plot a little bit, so please forgive me. Also, I hope you enjoy 💖

Warnings: mentions of nightmares, a few uses of (y/n) for those who don't like that type of fic. This hasn't been proofread because I was just vibing

In Peter’s defense, it had seemed like such a good idea at the time. Being Spider-Man nearly fulltime wasn’t enough to keep the lights on and most jobs weren’t flexible enough to allow him to perform the disappearing act he needs to slip away and fight crime. So when he heard an old friend was back in the city and looking for an assistant, the opportunity seemed too good to pass up. 

Peter tells himself that this isn’t morally wrong – he knew if you could remember him that you would hire him because, bleeding heart that you are, you’re always willing to help a friend in need. But the problem is, you didn’t remember him. Which puts him in some morally grey territory that he tries not to let keep him up at night. 

Turns out, he’s not the only one being kept awake at night. 

About the fifth time you yawn in as many minutes while scrawling on the whiteboard in your lab, Peter feels the need to say something. He’s already refilled your coffee when you weren’t looking, but clearly it’s not enough to keep you going. 

“Hey, Boss?” He interrupts, trying to keep his voice as unobtrusive as possible while he throws off your train of thought. He even prepares for you to glare at him, just like you would have back in high school. So when you just give him a neutral look with a slightly vacant gaze, he’s a bit taken aback. “Maybe you should take a break.” 

You yawn again. “Why?”

Peter holds in a sigh. As your PA, he gets away with quite a bit. But he’s still somewhat new to the job, and that means he sometimes toes the line, tests the water, trying to figure out what’s allowed and what’s not with this changed version of you. 

“Well, for starters,” he replies. “Your numbers in that equation are so off that you’d turn the lab into a crater if you tried to run an experiment right now.” 

That gets your attention. You blink in surprise, turning back towards the whiteboard to look at your numbers. The realization that Peter is right makes your lips purse into a frown as you curse under your breath. You rub at your eyes, groaning in frustration. 

“Maybe you should go home,” Peter suggests. “Or at least take a nap here?”

That earns a noise that’s somewhere between a laugh and a scoff as you lower your hands so that you can look at Peter. “I’m not sleeping.” 

“Not with that attitude.” 

“No,” you sigh, although under better circumstances, his quip might have gotten a laugh. “I mean . . . I haven’t been able to sleep. Or to sleep well, at least.” 

“Oh.” Now it’s Peter’s turn to be surprised. 

Not just surprised, but guilty. He knows how hard it was for you to get sleep after everything that happened with your dad, with Thanos . . . There were plenty of nights he’d swung across the city to climb in through your window, to calm you down after you had woken up from nightmares and called him in a panic to see if he was okay. 

He hasn’t thought about that in a while, hasn’t considered that maybe the same problems still bother you. Some friend he is. 

And yet, it’s not like he can just admit to knowing all that. He has to play it cool, to put on an act so that he doesn’t freak you out. 

“Why not?” he asks. Already knowing the answer, he’s prepared to act concerned, to nod along in empathy and make sure his brows are furrowed just so. But when he sees how easily you admit the issue, the concern becomes new and real – the old (y/n) was usually too stubborn to admit defeat, to ask for help. She was a Stark, after all. 

“It’s just hopeless,” you frown, rubbing at your temple as you turn back to the whiteboard. “So don’t worry about it.” 

“No,” Peter finds himself saying automatically, catching even himself by surprise when the word leaves his mouth. He tries to sound more confident, to ignore the way his mind is tripping over itself at a million miles a minute when he announces, “I have a plan.”

“This is your plan?” You ask, quirking an eyebrow in disbelief. 

Peter has to bite his lip to keep himself from protesting that this used to work, because of course you wouldn’t know that. He has to make this whole thing seem like a suggestion, like something he’s also not used to, like he’s not sure it will actually work. 

“It’s not a bad plan,” he counters, crossing his arms. “A lot of studies show that sleeping with someone can be comforting for people experiencing nightmares.” 

From the side of the bed you’re standing on, you scoff, rolling your eyes. “That cannot be true.” 

“It is true,” Peter protests, mirroring your scoff and eyeroll from his own side of the bed. For a moment, he just stares at you expectantly. When you don’t budge, he begins moving around the pillows, unmaking the bed so that you can get in it. “Look, just trust me, okay? You need to sleep. Like, badly. And I think you should be willing to try anything that might work.” 

You start to protest, but Peter interrupts, cutting you off. 

“I don’t think your dad would want you to torture yourself like this,” he deadpans. 

Your mouth snaps shut. You don’t really talk about your dad. But Peter is willing to invoke Tony’s memory to prove a point even if it upsets you. Because he knows it’ll get to you, that it’ll make you see reason. 

Finally, you give a curt nod. 

“Fine,” you say, slowly lowering yourself onto the bed. You shoot Peter a look as you do so. “But never bring up my dad like that ever again.” 

Stubborn as ever. But Peter deserves that. 

“Sure thing, Boss,” he replies as he sinks down onto the mattress on his side of the bed. 

It’s been years since you’ve done this. Peter would be lying if he said that didn’t make him feel a little awkward. Still, you’re his friend, and you need help. 

“Would it help if I held you?” Peter asks, his voice quiet as the lights automatically begin to dim overhead, plunging the room into darkness.

Being held always made you feel safer. That past version of you, anyways. Years have passed, he has to remind himself. You’re both different people now. 

When you nod in the darkness, Peter is sure he only hears your hair rustling against the pillow because of his enhanced senses. 

“Please,” you whisper. 

You don’t move. If anything, the anticipation makes you stiffen a bit. Peter is careful as he scoots closer, carefully wrapping his arm around you as he settles in behind you. 

If he closes his eyes and pretends, this could be a few years ago. He could pretend this is any night between the end of the Blip and the spell erasing him from memory. And in that pretend space of memory and longing, he can almost imagine how things would be if his life had worked out differently. Because this feels so familiar – 

You turn in his arms, the abrupt movement cutting off his train of thought. In the darkness, your eyes are wide as you stare at him. Before he can ask if you’re okay, you’re pushing yourself up to a sitting position, the lights turning back on automatically so that you can stare down at the man beside you. 

“Peter,” you say, your voice a breathy whisper. Then, slightly louder, a little surprised, you exclaim, “Peter!”

For a second, Peter is too stunned to react. He can only look at you with wide eyes, wondering what’s running through your head. 

But then you’re launching yourself at him, wrapping him in your arms and squeezing him tight before you let go again, sitting back so that you can look at him, cup his face in your hands and study him. “Everything okay, Boss?” he asks. 

You stare at him, breathless. When you shake your head, the words come tumbling out like they’re the most natural reaction in the world. “How could you let me forget you?”

Oh hell.

[obsessedweveryth1ng1]

poor peter!

𑣲⋆｡˚ peter hasnt had any action in nearly a year!

𑣲⋆｡˚ 1.4k words

MDNI! SMUT! 18+ only!

peter parker hasnt fucked anyone for exactly 304 days. 304.

he was loosing his mind.

he never had the time to have a cheap hookup, always too busy with saving the entirety of nyc every. single. day.

and he might have actually survived those 304 days of just jacking off on the occasion to make sure he doesnt get too stressed, if it werent for you.

his drop dead gorgeous, sexy, hypnotising neighbour.

you moved in exactly 252 days ago, carrying a heavy box in the hall and struggling to grab the key from your pocket, when peter had rushed over to help you since he was already on his way out. big mistake.

when you handed him the box, he was revealed a gorgeous rack of tits in a low cut shirt, basically shoved in his face as you fumbled for the keys. he felt so guilty. your sweet smile and honey dripped voice thanking him made had him weak in the knees.

since then it just kept getting worse.

like the time you were picking up a couple of letters from your door mat on your way in from doing the laundry, and he happened to be walking past.

you were bent over, pyjama shorts sliding up your ass and gripping to your pussy lips through the fabric. right in front of him.

he had nearly came in his pants right then and there.

he had to rush home, his belt half off before the door was even closed, shirt quickly tossed off as he had fucked his fist and imagined bending you over every surface in his apartment.

oh and don't get him started on when he can hear you through the walls.

he had listened when you were brought home with a date, and it was like his wet dreams had been happening in the room next to him and he wasnt allowed to watch.

he could hear the way you were bent over, hips in the air and face shoved into the pillows as you got fucked senseless, wet pussy welcoming in a strangers cock when it should have been his.

he could hear the slaps of your ass hitting the mans hips with every thrust, the breathless moans escaping your mouth, everything.

he had listened the whole time, fucking himself with his own fist and wishing praying that it could be him next time.

and now, it had been two whole months since he had even jacked off. he'd been too busy! the whole day he had been tense, off his game.

and now he was home.

his hand was shoved down his pants in a second, head fall back on his couch as he wrapped a hand around himself, his tip an angry red. he needed release so so bad! poor peter :(

his hand moved quickly, his mind filled with images, moments with you.

your name slipped out of his lips with a wimper, and just as he was starting to get close-

knock knock knock.

"peter?"

it was you.

oh god.

peter shoved himself back into his pants, not even doing up the button as he practically ran to the door.

he opened the door with a slam, making you jump.

you stared up at him in shock.

he looked gorgeous.

his hair was a mess, cheeks flushed and eyes shiny. his shirt was slightly pushed up, cock hard in his half undone pants as he stared at you, chest heaving.

"i- i cant-..." your voice trailed off, forgetting what you even came over for.

and for a moment you both just stared.

"peter..?" you said softly, taking a small step forward.

and he groaned.

he actually groaned.

his boner was threatening to slip out of his boxers at this point, and you were not helping.

you moved into the apartment, closing the door quietly behind you, your chest nearly pressed against his.

"poor peter..." you murmured, pity in your eyes at the state of him. your hands landed on his chest, one trailing up to his hair, tugging softly.

he let out a filthy moan, eyes rolling back as he lowered himself onto his knees, grabbing your hips and shoving them towards his face, burying his nose into your pussy.

you let out a wimper, your hand tightening on his hair as he slipped your pyjama shorts down, grabbing one of your thighs and hoisting it over his shoulder, staring at your greedy pussy, which was dripping.

"peter." a sharp yank on his hair made his eyes snap away from his meal to your face.

"ask nicely." you normally sweet voice was sharper, but from the way he twitched in his pants, thats what he needed.

"p-please baby, oh- i'll be so good, please let me eat this pussy, please" he pleaded, eyes watering, before you nodded.

he was quick.

he shoved his face into your dripping pussy, tounge spread greedily as he slurped up the juices before licking at your greedy core, which was tightening around nothing. your head fell back, the door holding you up as you leaned back against it.

peters tongue was prodding at your hole, nose nudging and grinding against your clit desperatly as his hips bucked into the air. his thick arms were wrapped tightly around your waist, hands keeping your trembling thighs open.

"ooh peter! f-fuck!" you cried, hand gripping his hair tightly, and he moaned into your pussy at the sound of your voice.

before you knew it, he was standing, kissing you deeply.

you let his tongue into your mouth, tasting yourself on him, and he hoisted you up, legs wrapping around his hips as he stumbled through his apartment, finding his room quickly.

he dropped you onto the bed and was quick to tug off his shirt, revealing his bulky body, small bruises littering the abs and biceps that you were ogling at.

"p-please let me fuck you. i needa fuck your pussy baby- o-oh shit please!" he whined, crawling over you, his eyes wide with desperation and lust.

"please- please fuck me peter.." you mumbled, pulling him closer, and he nearly sobbed of happiness.

he tore his belt off, shoving down his jeans and boxers, and you nearly choked.

he was huge.

his greedy hands tugged at your shirt, pulling it up.

"Lemme see those pretty tits baby." he mumbled, pulling it over your head gently before throwing it somewhere behind him, his eyes glued to your chest, mouth open.

"peter." you growled, your thighs clenching. "hurry up and fuck me."

"yes maam." he nodded, before lowering his head to kiss you again.

his hand reached down, jerking himself a little before lining up, your sweet pussy being spread by his tip as he swirled your clit with his leaking tip, before he lined himself up with your hole.

"so pretty. so- so so pretty." he mumbled, looking down at you as he got ready, slowly pushing in.

just watching the way you winced and moaned at adjusting to his fat tip made him loose control. he pushed in with one sharp thrust, making you scream with pleasure and pain, meanwhile he mumbled apologies over and over, already starting to thrust in over and over.

the bed creaked underneath you as he fucked you deep into the mattress, your tits bouncing with each thrust. both of your moans echoed in his room, filling the apartment with the sounds of your shared pleasure.

you clawed at his back, your own back arched as you took his deliciously deep thrusts each time.

"such a good pussy for me. this pussys mine noew, huh? c'mon baby, t-tell me this pretty pussy belongs to me." peters voice was pathetic, but he was fucking you oh so good.

"p-peter! nghh-fuck.. its yours peter! y-your pretty pussy." You wimpered, eyes rolling back as his tip thrashed your cervix with each thrust, his thumb rubbing your clit perfectly.

he whined so loudly at your worse, his thrusts becoming messy, but he grabbed your thighs, throwing them over his shoulders to get even closer, the new angle making you moan so loud you knew you would be getting a noise complaint.

"i love you. ohmygod i love you!" peter whimpered, saliva pooling at the sight of you folded underneath him, his cock so deep into your womb, the bulge so visable to him.

"cum in me peter, need your cum!" you cried out as your pussy clamped down on his cock, your release flooding all over him.

peter threw back his head, burying himself far into you as he came, thick white cum painting your walls white with the hot sticky substance.

you felt so full, stuffed with his cock and his cream.

he lowered himself on top of you, making sure he didnt slip out as he held you close to him, his heart racing.

"can i take you out for breakfast tomorrow morning?" he asked quietly.

"yes please."

little did he know this was your wet dream come true as well.

freaks.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

A/N: can we tell i havent been fucked in nearly A MONTH.

[pppppppparker]

get a little more close to me

Peter Parker x fem!reader

summary: the tiny little (big fat) crush you have on your roommate comes to a head when you find him on the living room floor at midnight. he’s not hurt, but he definitely needs your help.

aka yet another sex pollen fic

content warnings: 18+ EXPLICIT SMUT MDNI!!! I mean it ok, SEX POLLEN/aprodisiac, roommate!peter, explicit language, probably post bnd but there’s not a whole lot of plot/exposition so don’t worry about the specifics, reader is afab but not really described otherwise I don’t think, fingering f-receiving, making out, unprotected p-in-v DO NOT DO THIS, handjob m-receiving, author felt really awkward writing about genitalia and it shows, both are down baddd, questionable dirty talk, I think that’s everything but if I missed anything PLEASE let me know I’ve never done this before, title from so hot you’re hurting my feelings by caroline polachek (literally me)

wc: 2.4k

author’s note: as mentioned before this is my first smut fic I’m actually genuinely terrified to be posting this. I DONT KNOW IF ITS GOOD but good lord brand new day did things to me. also my first time writing for pp since my wattpad days and I don’t know if I got his characterisation right. BUT ITS SMUT WHO CARES. I just hope someone enjoys this

Peter comes home sometime in the early hours of the morning. You hear him clattering in the living room, hear the slam of the window and a grunt and the thuds of uneven footsteps. Even in your half-asleep state, it registers that something is wrong. Usually, he’s quiet coming in, kind enough to not disturb your sleep. It’s only when something has happened that he’s careless and noisy.

You slither reluctantly from the sheets you’ve brewed perfectly warm throughout the night and pull a jumper over your head as you pad out into the hallway. “Peter?” you call softly. “You OK?”

There’s a groan from the living room. You flick the light on as you enter and find your roommate on the floor, knelt on all fours and whimpering. You swear and scramble to his side. “Fucking hell, Peter, what happened?” In the dim light, you can’t see any blood. He’s breathing heavily, though, and mumbling as he claws at his mask. You help him pull it off and he gasps for air.

“You have to go,” he manages to wheeze out. “Please. Please, go.”

“No fucking way,” you tell him fiercely, panic putting an edge in your voice. “What the hell happened?” You’re running your hands over him, checking for injuries as he sobs, and he’s burning hot even through the suit but you can’t find anything except—

That.

That’s not normal.

Big, hard and heavy, like every cliche ever in all the books you read. He hisses when you nearly touch it, swears when you lurch backwards before you make contact. “I’m so sorry,” he sobs again, teeth gritted. “It hurts. Sorry, sorry, fuck, you have to go. Please,” he begs, “you have to go.”

He looks absolutely miserable, soaked in sweat as his whole body shudders with aggressive spasms. You should back away like he’s told you, call someone who can help. Maybe it’s contagious, whatever he’s clearly come into contact with. But you can’t. He’s your best friend and you’re not leaving him like this.

“Peter,” you tell him softly but urgently, “look at me. You have to let me help you.”

Even in the distress he’s in, he laughs. Quietly, strained, under his ragged breath. “No. No, I can’t do this to you.”

“What do you mean?” He doesn’t answer, just chokes on a whimper, and you poke his shoulder. “Peter, what happened?”

He swears again, drops his forehead to the carpet. “Stupid drug I’ve been hearing about. Tried to catch some dealers. They sprayed me. It’s…”

He swallows, hisses out a pained breath. You watch him closely and wait. Finally, he grits out, “It’s an aphrodisiac, but, like, a hundred times worse.”

Oh. That explains the monumental boner he’s sporting. You take a shaky breath in, nod like he’s just told you he can’t make it to Sunday brunch anymore. “OK. Yeah, OK. Right. Uh, treatment is?”

He turns his head just enough to meet your eye, offering a wry grin. His pupils are blown so wide you can barely see the brown of his eyes. “What do you think?” he quips dryly before his whole body shudders again and he drops to his elbows, gasping raggedly. Sweat glistens on the back of his neck and mats the dark curls of his hair. “You should really go,” he croaks. “It’s not safe for you.”

Typical Peter, always thinking of others even when he’s visibly in pain. But you’ve already decided. “I’m not going to,” you tell him.

He shakes his head. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers, voice hoarse.

Hesitantly, like you’re worried about what something like a hand on his shoulder might do to him, you reach out and touch him. He tenses at the contact like he’s been shot; a strangled noise dies somewhere in his throat. He bows his head again, back heaving as he pants, refusing to make eye contact. Ashamed, maybe, of the state he’s in.

“Peter,” you say very quietly and very surely, “I’m not leaving.”

Slowly, he looks up at you, absolutely wrecked. His face is flushed and gleaming with perspiration. He watches you for a long moment like he’s waiting for you to change your mind. You don’t, even as you feel your whole body start to burn under his gaze.

“You have to say something if you don’t want to anymore,” he whispers finally. “Swear it.” You cross your heart. He manages half a smile. “Swear,” you murmur, and then you’re helping him onto the couch, and he’s making sounds that go straight to your core.

You peel the suit off him quickly. Ideally, you’d be savouring the moment, relishing in every muscled bit of skin you reveal, but you’re not trying to drag out his suffering longer than necessary. He helps you get the suit off fully, groaning and panting as he fumbles with the thick fabric, until he’s just in boxers beneath you and you’re trying not to drool at the sight of his bare skin all laid out for you.

“I have to—“ he cuts himself off, squeezing his eyes shut and tipping his head back as his jaw clenches. He balls his hands into fists and rests them on his thighs, his whole body taut as a bowstring. “Fuck, it hurts.”

“Tell me what to do.” You hover over him with a growing feeling of helplessness that you’re desperate to get rid of.

He’s pawing at the bulge in his boxers now, jaw clenched. “I can’t,” he whispers. “I didn’t want it to be like this.”

You freeze. “What do you mean?”

He shakes his head again. A keening whine spills from his lips and he winces like it physically pains him to hear it. “I was going to ask you properly,” he mumbles so quietly you have to strain to hear him. “Wanted to take you out. I’ve liked you for ages.”

It’s news to you. For the past three years you’ve known him, you’ve firmly believed that all Peter will ever be is your best friend who happens to be a boy. Of course you liked him as more than that; look at him. You just never thought the feeling was mutual. Never even dared to hope, because you were sure you’d just end up disappointed.

“Oh,” you whisper now.

“Yeah, oh.” Peter groans. “I’m so sorry, really, this is so wrong—“

“Peter,” you say softly. When he keeps rambling about how sorry he is, you lean down to put your face right in front of his. “Peter, fucking shut up already.” And then you kiss him. He moans into your mouth, his hands gripping your hips like a lifeline. You let out your own muffled noise when he squeezes the soft curve of them. “Please,” he mumbles into your mouth. “Please.”

“Please what,” you breathe right back.

“Fucking please,” is all he says and then his mouth leaves your’s, starts moving down your neck, while his hands fumble with the hem of your jumper and the pyjama top underneath. “Shirt off,” he pleads.

“Manners,” you murmur but you oblige anyway and quickly too, pulling your jumper over your head and your top with it. When Peter sees you haven’t got a bra on underneath, he practically malfunctions, hands hovering over your waist like he doesn’t know what to do with them.

“Fuck,” he sighs. “I’m going to die.”

“You’re not.” You reach down to plant his hands firmly on your hips, then grip the waistband of his shorts and watch his face as you push them down. His eyes stay fixed on your chest for a long moment until his hips jump upwards and his dick springs free into the cold apartment air. Now it’s your turn to stare in blatant awe; he is huge.

“Fuck me, Peter,” you whisper and he groans.

“I’m trying!”

When you wrap a hand around him, his whole body jerks and he lets out a string of breathy curses. “Oh, fuck,” he breathes shakily. “Fuck, fuck.” You watch him in awe as your hand works, cataloguing every little noise that he makes and the way he looks at you, desperate and adoring. “Won’t last,” he whispers and you nod.

“I know.” But you don’t stop. Peter arches off the couch, chest heaving, and you watch as he comes undone beneath you. He’s still hard, afterward. You don’t care that it was quick, you don’t really care about anything but his hand which has managed to find its way into your shorts. He slips his fingers into your underwear, pushing them aside with unsurprising deftness; the guy is good at almost anything, so you wouldn’t expect any different. When his fingertips dip between your folds, your own hips stutter and you bite back a whimper.

“So wet,” he whispers almost to himself. “Holy fuck.”

“Peter,” you beg, core aching as you roll your hips over his in search of some relief. “Come on, please.”

Before you even know what’s happening, he lurches up to flip both your bodies around. In a second, you’re under him and his whole heavy body is pressing you into the couch. The movement has your head spinning.

Your shorts and undies are off now too, disposed of mindblowingly quickly as Peter works a finger into you. You cry out at the feeling, hands flying to grip his wrist. You can feel the muscles of his forearm flexing beneath your fingers as he crooks his own, another one slipping into you. He lowers his head to your chest as you gasp for breath, and when you feel him sucking marks into the valley between your breasts you nearly come right then and there.

“Fuck, Peter, fuck,” you swear. A hand goes to his hair, dripping wet and tousled from the sweat, the other hand still gripping onto his arm for dear life.

“I know,” he groans into your chest. “Just want you to be OK.”

“I will be, Pete, I will,” you promise frantically. “Please, Peter, please I need you, I need you now, please.”

Funny how he was the one in tears on the floor mere minutes ago, and now here you are begging for more beneath him. He’s nodding furiously, sucking marks on your skin as he moves back up to your lips, and when he reaches down to position himself against you, you hook your arms around his neck and pull him down to kiss you.

“Ready?” he murmurs when you break apart, and you feel the tip of him skimming through your folds. You can tell he’s restraining himself, can see it in the way he clenches his jaw and sucks in short, sharp breaths that he’s trying with all his might not just to take what he needs.

But you don’t want him to hold back. You pull him down for a kiss again and nod. “I trust you.”

His hips judder at that and he swears under his breath. When he starts to press into you, the stretch feels impossible. You hiss out, digging your nails into his shoulders for dear life. If it hurts him, he doesn’t react. He just watches your face, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, his whole body shaking with the effort it takes to hold himself back.

“You OK?” he asks and you nod.

“Keep going. Please.”

So he does. Inch by inch, he presses his hips closer to your’s. When the stretch feels unbearable, he whispers in your ear for you to breathe. Before you know it, he closes the gap and there he is, buried inside you up to the hilt. And you wonder how you’ve gone so long without this, how something so new can feel so insanely right.

“Like you were made for me,” he whispers into your neck and you nod.

“I was,” you mumble. “Please move, Peter, please.” You can smell the sweat on his skin, can feel it all through his hair as you bury your fingers in his curls.

He moves. Hips rolling against your’s, steadily speeding up. You try to keep up with him, you really do, but your legs have given up on working and Peter’s got the whole super strength thing on his side. He makes little noises as he fucks into you, breathy whimpers and almost pained groans, but the look on his face is as far from pain as it gets. You let him do the work while you scatter errant kisses across his chest and shoulders, and the tightness in you swells and swells until you think you can’t take it anymore, but it keeps going and Peter moans out loud when you clench around him.

“Please,” you just about sob, gripping his back for dear life. “Please, Peter, please.”

“I know,” he mumbles against your skin, dropping his head to mouth at your neck. He pulls almost all the way out and then pushes back in, one smooth movement, and you cry out. “I’m so close.”

“I know, I know.” He presses his face against the crook of your neck and grunts, hips still pistoning like machinery. “Me too. Feels insane.”

“Please,” you whimper, feeling frankly out of your mind too as you clutch at the muscles of his back and arms. “Please. So close.”

He gets you there. One hand snaked between your two bodies, the press of a calloused thumb against your clit, and you’re tumbling over the edge, eyes squeezed shut. Peter follows soon after, still working you through it, practically sobbing into your chest. The aftershocks last for a while and he’s there through it all, gasping for breath against your skin. When the haze clears, he pulls out gingerly and lifts his head to meet your gaze.

“You OK?” he asks, face scrunched in concern. “I didn’t hurt you?”

You grin at him. “I feel like jelly.”

“Good jelly?”

“Fucking amazing jelly.”

He laughs, the sound ragged. “I’m sorry, anyway.”

“I know you’re not apologising right now,” you retort, slapping him lightly on the shoulder. “That was, like, the best sex I’ve ever had. Are you, um, OK, though?”

He smiles bashfully. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m OK.”

He brings you a wet cloth and a glass of water. The sweat has dried on his skin and he looks far better than he did when you found him on the floor.

Later, he crawls into bed with you. The lamp flicks off and the room plunges back into darkness. You wriggle closer to him until his arms find you and pull you tight to his chest.

“As good as that was,” you whisper, “please don’t scare me like that again. I thought you were dying or something.”

He laughs softly and presses his lips to the top of your head. “OK. I’ll try.”

You drift off before him. When he sleeps a while later, it’s the best night’s rest he’s had in a long time.

[bitofrea]

peter parker x stark!reader

summary: ever since the world forgot peter parker, he’s kept exactly one promise: protect the people he loves, even if they never know his name. unfortunately for him, natasha romanoff made sure tony stark’s daughter would always notice when she was being followed.

warnings: memory-loss consequences, mentions of stalking, emotional angst, natasha romanoff’s training, english being not my first language.

the bell above the café door chimed softly.

peter didn’t look up.

he had learned that if he looked at every customer who walked in, he’d only end up disappointed. every few hours he’d convince himself that maybe, just maybe, someone would remember him.

no one ever did.

instead, he kept reading the same page of the physics textbook he’d been pretending to study for the last fifteen minutes while, through the reflection in the window, he watched her.

she looked… okay.

happy enough.

a little tired.

she laughed at something on her phone before ordering coffee. good. that was all he needed. he could leave now.

except he didn’t. because he’d told himself that every day for the past month.

just another five minutes. just until she leaves safely. just…

then the chair across from him scraped against the wooden floor.

peter froze.

“…hi.”

he slowly lowered his book.

reader smiled politely, almost apologetically.

“hi.” his brain completely stopped working.

she wasn’t supposed to be here.

she wasn’t supposed to even notice him.

she folded her arms on the table. “you’ve been following me for weeks.”

peter’s heart nearly stopped. “…i’m sorry?”

“you heard me.”

“i- i think you’ve got the wrong guy.”

“no.” she tilted her head. “it’s definitely you.”

peter forced an awkward laugh.

“i think i’d remember following someone.”

“you’ve changed hoodies six times.”

his smile faltered.

“you alternate between three backpacks. you’ve started buying coffee from places you clearly don’t like because they’re on my route. and yesterday you spent forty-three minutes pretending to compare cereal brands.”

peter blinked. “…how do you know it was forty-three?”

she gave him a look. “because i was timing you.”

silence.

then she sighed. “i let it go the first week.”

peter considered jumping through the nearest window.

“the second week I assumed you were gathering courage to ask me out.”

his ears turned scarlet. “what?”

“the third week I realized you weren’t actually trying to approach me.” she leaned back. “so now I’m curious.” another beat. “you don’t seem dangerous.”

“no.”

“you don’t seem creepy.”

“…thanks?”

“you actually look guilty… so.” she rested her chin on her hand. “why are you following me?”

peter stared at her.

every answer he wanted to give sat painfully behind the one he couldn’t.

because you’re my best friend.

because i promised your dad.

because i couldn’t save aunt may, but i can make sure nothing happens to you.

instead. “i think you’ve mistaken me for someone else.”

she smiled. “there it is.”

“what?”

“you’re lying.”

peter swallowed.

reader reached for her coffee when the waiter placed it down.

she took one sip before speaking again. “you know…” her voice softened. “i was trained by natasha romanoff.”

peter almost groaned.

“she spent years teaching me how to spot surveillance.” she pointed casually toward the window. “you always stay where you can see exits.”

peter blinked.

“you never let anyone stand behind you.”

another blink.

“when you think i might’ve noticed you, you start reading.”

his eyes drifted to the textbook still open in front of him.

“and,” she continued, “you scan everyone’s hands before you look at their faces.”

peter slowly closed the book.

“…old habits.”

“military?”

he smiled faintly. “no.”

“former shield?”

“…no.”

“hired by someone?”

his stomach tightened. “…no.”

she studied him for a long moment.

then something shifted in her expression.

not suspicion.

sadness.

“you know…” she murmured, “it’s strange.”

peter looked at her.

“i feel like…” she frowned. “…i should know you.”

his breath caught.

she looked embarrassed by her own words. “that’s weird, right?”

“…maybe.”

“i’ve had this feeling for months.” she laughed quietly. “i’ll see someone wearing a red hoodie and think, there you are, and then…” she shrugged. “it’s never who I’m looking for.”

peter had to grip the edge of the table to stop his hands from shaking.

“you have one of those faces.”

“my face?”

“it feels…” she searched for the word. “…familiar.”

neither of them spoke.

finally, reader smiled. “anyway.” she stood, grabbing her cup. “I don’t know why you’re following me.”

peter lowered his eyes.

“but i don’t think it’s because you want to hurt me.”

“…no.”

“i think…” she said quietly, “…you’re making sure i’m okay.”

his throat tightened.

“i don’t know why.”

neither do i anymore, he almost admitted.

she took a step away before pausing. “if you’re ever done hiding…”

peter looked up.

“…i’d like to know your name.” she smiled one last time as she turned towards the door.

she already had one hand on the café door when she heard him.

“wait.”

reader turned around.

peter was already regretting it.

his chair had scraped loudly against the floor, every eye in the café briefly drifting toward him before returning to their own conversations.

he swallowed.

she waited. “yeah?”

peter had rehearsed thousands of conversations with her.

none of them started like this.

“i…” he rubbed the back of his neck. “this is going to sound weird.”

a small smile tugged at her lips. “i’ve had a weird afternoon already.”

right.

she’d just confronted her own stalker.

“right.” he laughed nervously.

“i guess… i just wanted to say i’m sorry.”

“for following me?”

he nodded immediately. “yeah.”

“and?”

“and…” he looked down at the floor. “i wasn’t lying when i said i don’t want to hurt you.”

“i know.”

“i know that’s not enough of an explanation.”

“no.”

“but it’s the only one i can give.”

reader watched him for a long second. there was something painfully sincere about him. not charming. not smooth. just… honest.

like someone carrying a weight he wasn’t allowed to put down.

“so…” she asked softly. “does this mean you’re going to stop following me?”

peter hesitated. “…yes.” the word almost hurt. “if that’s what makes you feel safe.”

she noticed the way his shoulders slumped after he said it. like he’d just lost something.

her expression softened. “i didn’t say i felt unsafe.”

his eyes lifted to hers.

“i said i noticed.”

“oh.”

“you’ve had plenty of opportunities to do something.”

“i know.”

“you never did.”

“…no.”

“you actually scared away a guy who was following me last tuesday.”

peter blinked. “…you noticed that too?”

she laughed. “i notice everything.”

of course she did.

natasha would’ve been proud.

peter smiled despite himself. it was small. real.

reader noticed that too. “you smile like someone who doesn’t do it very often.”

his smile disappeared almost immediately. “…guess not.”

silence settled between them. comfortable this time.

then peter spoke before he could convince himself not to. “i know this is… probably inappropriate after everything.”

she raised an eyebrow.

“but…” he inhaled deeply. “would you maybe…” his voice almost cracked. “…want to be friends?”

the question hung between them.

reader stared. “friends?”

“i know.” he laughed awkwardly. “it sounds ridiculous.”

“you’ve been secretly following me for a month…”

“…yeah.”

“…and your solution is friendship?”

“when you put it like that….”

“it sounds insane.”

“it really does.” he buried his face in one hand. “i’m sorry. i should’ve just let you leave.”

she couldn’t help smiling. “no.”

he looked up.

“i’m glad you didn’t.”

peter blinked.

she stepped closer. “can i ask you something?”

“anything.”

“why me?”

he froze.

thee answer was so easy.

because you were my best friend.

because i fell in love with you when we were fifteen.

because every science project somehow became an excuse to spend another afternoon together.

because your dad used to pretend he didn’t know we kept sneaking into the lab.

because i still know exactly how you take your coffee.

instead.

“you seemed…” he searched for something that wasn’t a lie. “lonely.”

reader’s smile faded just a little. “…that’s a surprisingly accurate observation.”

peter’s heart sank. “i know what that’s like.”

she looked at him differently then.

not with suspicion. with recognition.

like she’d found another person carrying invisible things.

“i don’t usually make friends with strangers.”

“i figured.”

“but…” she reached into her tote bag and pulled out a small notebook. tearing off a page, she scribbled something before folding it once then she placed it in front of him. “my number.”

peter stared at it as if it might disappear.

“i have one condition.”

he looked up.

“no more following me.”

his stomach twisted. “…okay.”

“if you want to know whether i’m okay…” she smiled. “you ask.”

peter let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “…okay.”

“and if i catch you watching me from another rooftop.”

“i won’t.”

“peter.” the name left her mouth so naturally that they both froze.

silence.

reader frowned. “…why did i call you peter?”

his entire body went still. “i…”

she blinked rapidly. “i don’t even know your name.”

peter couldn’t breathe.

she shook her head, almost laughing at herself. “sorry. that’s… weird. it just slipped out.”

neither of them spoke.

finally, she smiled again, smaller this time. “so…” she tilted her head. “what’s your name?”

peter looked at the folded piece of paper with her phone number.

then back at the girl he’d loved since he was fifteen.

the girl who had just called him by the name the universe had stolen from him.

he smiled.

this time, it reached his eyes. “…peter. peter parker.”

she repeated it quietly, as though testing how it felt. “peter.” something in her chest stirred. a feeling with no memory attached.

only warmth.

only home.

“…it’s nice to meet you peter parker.”

peter nodded. “it really is.”

and for the first time since doctor strange’s spell, he wasn’t introducing himself to a stranger.

he was introducing himself to someone who, somehow, had almost remembered.

author’s note: i watched brand new day a few days ago, and i literally felt the need of writing something about peter parker. also i was thinking of making like a part 2 out of this, would you guys like that?

[yasministration]

love bites

pairing: peter parker x gf!reader summary: you're determined to leave love bites all over peter's neck, but unfortunately for you, his accelerated healing has other plans. peter has a couple of suggestions to lift your spirits. cw: attempts at giving hickeys, dry humping, kissing, allusions to sex, reader is kind of possessive but peter loves it wc: 1k+

Peter sharply inhales, hands tightening on your hips as your teeth softly graze the soft skin of his neck. In the back of the room, Evie calls out “Senses are overriding”, but you couldn’t care less, gripping your boyfriend’s face in one hand and moving it away from you so more space on his neck becomes exposed to you. A pathetic noise leaves Peter’s mouth at the way you handle him, lips reconnecting with his neck to sharply begin sucking again.

A slick layer of sweat coats Peter’s skin for a few reasons. One, you’ve been kissing him for a while now, and not long ago you got the brilliant idea to start leaving love bites on his skin. Two, your hips began moving against his own from where you’ve perched yourself above him a little while ago, and he’s been putting a large effort into not rolling his growing erection into your core. And lastly, you’re growing frustrated, which frankly makes him a little nervous.

You pull back from Peter’s neck with a loud pop, wiping your saliva off his skin with your unoccupied hand, and the second you huff again, Peter swallows thickly. The hickeys you’ve been trying to decorate him with just aren’t settling. In the minutes they take to appear, they already begin healing, leaving his skin unmarked.

“It’s not fair.” You mumble, and Peter truly sympathises with you, taking in the soft pout on your lips as you let go of his face. “What does a girl have to do give her boyfriend a couple of hickeys?” Peter gives you a small smile despite himself, eyes fluttering shut when you lean in again to continue your assault on his neck. God, you’re like a vampire, he thinks, groaning quietly as you press your entire body harder against his, chest flat against his. The hand you had on his face now buries itself in his hair, and Peter’s lips part as you grind down onto his lap.

“Heart rate quickly accelerating.” The robotic voice announces again, and Peter feels heat instantly rush to his face as you hum against his skin, taking in Evie’s words. You move your lips closer to Peter’s jaw, right where his pulse point lies, and he whimpers when your lips stretch into a smile against his neck, feeling the heavy thump of his pulse fighting against his veins. You pucker your lips to kiss the spot, and Peter’s hands snake up from your hips to the curve of your waist, where his fingers can dig better into your plush fat.

You pull away from Peter, seemingly unbothered by the fact that none of his hickeys are appearing, too busy admiring the state you’ve left your boyfriend in this time. Peter risks letting go of your waist with one hand, using it to cradle your cheek and pull you into a kiss instead. Your lips are wet with your saliva, and Peter moans against them, relaxing back into his pillows when you press your hands to his chest. Peter tries breaking the kiss, parting his lips to tell you something, but you’re quick to follow his lips, his open mouth letting you glide your tongue against his with practiced ease.

Peter’s hips twitch below you, bucking up into you in a way that makes the both of you let out a pleasured sigh. You break the kiss as Peter had tried doing mere moments ago, but now you ask him “Pete, why won’t you let me leave hickeys on you?”

Your boyfriend’s face softens at your upset expression, and he tilts his head sympathetically, saying “Trust me baby, I want you to be able to mark me up as much as you do.” The words send a throb to your core, and you try squeezing your thighs together, blocked by Peter’s body between them, and he grins softly. “What if I leave a couple on you, mhm?” Peter asks, fingers brushing up against your neck. He doesn’t wait for your response before bringing his lips there, his nose tickling your neck as it brushes against your skin, even as you reject his offer.

“But I want people to know you’re taken.” You open your mouth to add to your sentence, but what comes out instead is a quiet moan as Peter creates suction on your skin, one of your hands gripping his shoulder harshly. “I have a solution for that.” Peter mumbles, separating from your neck and looking up at you. You lean forward a little, pressing your forehead against Peter’s as you hum inquisitively, and your boyfriend mimics the noise with a slight nod of his head. “All it takes is to have you by my side any time I leave the house, and I’m sure everyone in Manhattan will get the hint.”

You press a short kiss to Peter’s lips, and you pull away for him to find you with a smile on your face. “Like that idea?” He questions quietly, and you nod softly, playing with the hair that hangs in front of his face. He pecks your lips shortly before returning his attention to your neck, grazing his teeth against your skin before sucking harshly on the spot for a long moment. You gasp, arching your body into his, and Peter pulls away to observe his work.

Peter glances up to meet your eyes before his gaze is quickly dipping down to your neck, and he grins, adding “And this hickey on your neck may very well be a sign to everyone that we belong to each other.”

“Already!?” You gasp, fingers coming up to graze the love bite Peter has so easily left on you. He nods, bringing an annoyed groan out of you, and you slump on his chest as you mumble in annoyance “That’s so unfair, I wanted to leave my mark on you, but no, of course Mr. Spider-Man’s accelerated healing has to confiscate his girlfriend’s simple pleasures in life.”

Peter laughs loudly, securing an arm around your waist and carefully rolling you over on the bed so he can hover over you. “Okay Mrs. Spider-Man, since you’re so upset about the hickeys, we can see if something else like back scratches last any longer.”

And of course, it’s all worth it to see the way your eyes light up at his suggestion, even though you demand a couple more rounds when nothing appears on his back the first time around.

taglist: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling, @dearlizzies, @bxuzi, @rory-cakes, @dlljdhsh, , @fandomhoe101, @sharkers00, @paankhaleyaaar, @tea-biscuits-books, @bearymuchso, @princesstiti14, @challengers4ev, @doiki3, @daisylove3, @laufeysvalentine, @veveaq, @nothinlikeuuu, @kneelforloki, @saaucie

[kentluv3r]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 SUMMARY: flirting with your guests is a regular on your youtube show… but flirting with SPIDER-MAN hits different, especially ‘cause he flirts right back!

ⓘ CONTENT WARNINGS: flirting, teasing -> confident fem! reader ノ dialogue heavy ノ back-and-forth banter ノ heavyyyy fluff ノ couple of uses of y/n!

AUTHOR’S NOTE: wow, me not posting smut for once— fluff will appear on this page every once and a while. my guilty pleasure watch is “chicken shop date” and love the idea of spider-man flirting heavyyyy. god, i can’t wait for brand new day! btw, i don’t own chicken shop, that shit belongs to amelia diloldenberg, only using the idea!

NEW NOTIFICATION!

CHICKEN SHOP DATE with y/n l/n has uploaded a new video: SPIDER-MAN | CHICKEN SHOP DATE #214

(2 hours ago…)

it took about two years to finally get the man on your show… but finally, someone from spider-man’s personal life finally listened to you and got him on your youtube series.

peter? loved your show. he loves the guests and the style of the show and your laid back personality compared to the other shows on youtube. he always found late night shows too… forced, other people had weird questions, but yours? yours was perfect

the only issue? they asked for… him. so now, here he was, dressed in his spider-man suit, mask halfway pushed up to reveal his mouth and a part of his jawline, and a camera on him… steaming hot chicken and fries sitting in front of him.

and here you were; internally freaking out that you were really interviewing him, the fucking king of new york himself. spider-man. fucking spider-man. the wall crawler!

the restaurant atmosphere wasn’t tense or quiet but rather warm and nervous. maybe it’s cause you’re interviewing world famous superhero, possibly. but even spider-man across the table was nervous as he tasted the food.

but then, spider-man speaks the first words of the video. “you know… this is really good chicken.”

“thanks, we try to make the chicken at least some what edible… like me.” you reply to him, taking a bite of your own food; it’s pretty good, you will agree with him like that.

immediately, peter could feel his heart do a little flip thing that he’s felt before… but never to this extent. he doesn’t let it show though, he knows he can’t be too confident on this show— just be friendly, flirt back, and don’t overshare too much. “well it’s good cause i’m hungry. i didn’t eat before coming.”

you lean back in your chair, pointing to him. “so how do you work out? considering you’re a… human spider after all.”

he chuckles lightly, covering his mouth with the top of his hand before speaking, pointing to his own body. “the spider-like qualities don’t really… stick in terms of… appetite and stuff like that.”

“oh? it doesn’t.”

“no, luckily i’ve gotten good at maintaining sweat and all that jazz.”

[video cuts to an outside shot of the shop; nighttime with the moon bright and the lights of the chicken shop lit brightly; Y/N’S CHICKEN. ON 45TH STREET]

peter takes another bite of the chicken as he swirls the straw around in his chosen drink. “you know… we’ve probably met before.”

“oh yeah?” you challenge. “you think as spider-man we’ve met or as your secret alias thing?”

he shrugs as he scratches his left cheek with his fingers. “i mean, probably as both… sorry if i didn’t remember you if i did save you once; i save a lot of people.”

you put your chin on your hand as you completely ignore his defense. “you have been avoiding me”

“have i?” he asks, tilting his head.

you nodded. “yeah, been trying to get you on this show for two years up to this point… seems like my calls to your manager didn’t reach you.”

he nods his head even if he doesn’t agree with your sentiment. “i don’t have a manager darling, it’s just me… who the hell would you have called in the first place?”

“i tried the daily bugle but they hung up on me, i think i was talking to jameson himself."

“yeah… he doesn’t really… fancy me all too much.” 

putting a chicken strip into your mouth, you chew on it before putting your knuckles to your mouth, swallowing it as you respond. “oh that’s so unfortunate.”

peter points his french-fry holding fingers at you in agreement. “that’s what i tell them because i don’t do anything wrong and yet they have an issue!”

“i mean, what did you do to them?” you question, a teasing tone to your words.

peter shrugs. “i don’t know.”

“did you like, fuck jameson’s wife? flirt with his daughter in front of him?” you ask, adding possible solutions to j.jonah jameson’s undying hatred for the wallcrawler.

“not that i know of.” he answers, sipping from his straw. “spider-man doesn’t usually do the hit it and quit it stuff so i know i didn’t do anything to him personally.”

you crack a smile at his words. “so spider-man doesn’t fuck a civillian he saves if they ask hard enough?”

he shakes his head. “nope… not trying to have a son or daughter running ‘round and it uh… reveals my secret identity because of dna and everything… plus, not trying to give my powers away.”

“selfish.” 

“reasonable.” 

[video cuts to a woman’s arm, your arm, putting the fries from the deep-fry basket onto the tray, ready to serve to the next customer]

you eat a couple of fries before steering the conversation somewhere else. “so we all know new york is the weirdest of weird places… what’s the weirdest thing you’ve interrupted while swinging?”

spider-man chuckles behind his glass. “uhhhh… basically, i accidentally landed… right in between a proposing couple on one of those garden rooftops.” 

“was there like a serial killer on the roof? what happened?” you ask.

“uh… the ring rolled off the roof and the guy nearly fell trying to catch it.” he explains, rubbing the back of his head as he chews on a fry, taking the time to scratch the back of his neck as well. “they still got engaged.” 

“did you go to the wedding?”

“no, wasn’t on the guest list.”

you click your tongue. “you know; i would invite you to my wedding.”

he smiles bold. “oh really? you think i could look good in a suit?”

“you’d be invited as the groom and not a guest.” your tone deadpan despite the smile on your lips.

peter nods in understanding— he tries to hide his blush at flirty words. “ohhhhh.”

[video cuts to a close up on the chicken’s shop menu… damn, in this economy, it’s surprising to see a 4 chicken tender and fry combo for seven dollars. the sound of the kitchen can be heard in the background.]

peter fixes his mask to make sure it doesn’t reveal too much before he speaks again. “i noticed that the colors of the show’s logo match my suit.”

you look up, smiling as you eat another piece of chicken. “oh yeah?” you cover your mouth to swallow before finishing your sentence. “you like it?”

“it’s an honor, sweetheart.”

[video cuts to the grill inside the kitchen, two pieces of texas toast sitting butter side down]

“is it true that all superheroes are fuckboys and fuckgirls?” you ask.

peter looks up at you, eyes of the mask widening before shortly going back to regular position, waving his hand is dismay. “nah, most of us are professional. i know the human torch and hawkeye and that knobhead from bludhaven, what’s his name?”

“nightwing?” you finish his question, remembering that black hair bird gymnast sitting across from you.

he snaps his finger. “yeah, that kid… bro, he gives us a bad rep ‘cause he’s always flirting with his fans… it’s like totally crazy the type of stuff he pulls with ‘em.”

“so you, spider-man, don’t flirt with your own fans?” you question him, raising a brow as you lean forward on the table.

the webslinger shakes his head. “nope. not trying to have my name trending for flirting.”

“well i’m a fan and you’re flirting with me right now…”

“if you wanna spin it like that.”

[video cuts to the soda station in the shop; all sodas are available except mountain dew. a sticky-note is placed at the bottom of the dispensary, reading very simply; out of order.]

“i’ve asked people out a lot.” you begin, swinging around the half-eaten chicken strip in your fingers. “and have gotten no’s back.”

peter interrupts with a smile, pointing to the ceiling of the restaurant. “in this way or like… in a real way?”

“no… no…” you begin, tilting his head at the accusation that this restaurant is not a real way. how dare he. “well, this is real, but…”  

then, spider-man busts out into a fit of laughter— serious, unbridled laughter. you just made spider-man laugh and there’s something good about that. there’s something sweet about having that power over someone so much more powerful.

“stop laughing damn it!” you say, reaching over and smacking the back of his shoulder, which only makes him laugh. “this is a serious issue!”

“oh i know it is, y/n, that’s why i’m laughing!” he tries to explain in between laughs, finally leaning back in his chair. 

you look at him dumbfounded, but a smile doesn’t stop from appearing on your lips. “you think you’re so fucking funny.”

“i think you’re funny, darling.”

[video cuts to a still shot of the outside deal; free desert with a purchase over $10, and in this restaurant? that’s pretty easy to get… so obviously, free cakes and free brownies were flying all over that damn restaurant]

“are you seeing anyone?” you ask him, stealing one of his fries.

he shakes his head as he does the same to you; stealing a much bigger fry than you stole. “not right now, it’s kinda hard to date with the whole… superhero stuff. why? you seeing if you have a chance?”

“maybe, why does that matter?” you press him, leaning back and crossing your arms.

he mirrors your action; key sign of someone liking you, mirroring your actions. “just asking. it’s hard to try to be on a date and suddenly an idiot is trying to rob a bank down fifth avenue.” he explains, motioning with his hand. 

you nod along. “are you feeling any danger around us?”

he puts his fingers on his chin; surprisingly? his spidey-sense haven’t gone off… maybe this is a sign. “nope, for once, my little inside radar ain’t going off.”

and you almost read his mind perfect. “aye, it’s a sign we are made for each other.”

“can you handle heights?” he asks.

you shrug. “possibly, why you asking?” you question. 

peter sticks his tongue to the inside of his cheek, visible to the screen as he scratches the back of his neck, a blush clear on his cheeks. “maybe after this, i can show you what a little web slinging with spidey is like.” 

[video cuts to an empty version of the chicken shop; the red and white tables nice and pretty, the lights vibrant inside the restaurant, in the background has two workers behind the cash register.]

“so… as we wrap up our date… speak now or forever hold your truth, they say.” you offer him before sipping on your drink.

peter thinks for a minute before grinning bright. “eh, you have my number, this won’t be our last date.”

4,912 COMMENTS (sort by…)

add a comment…

user431 (2 hours ago)

i have never seen two ppl flirt so hard before and go absolutely no where | 34K likes

user01 (2 hours ago)

HE WAS BEATING HER AT HER OWN GAME AND I LOVED EVERY SECOND OF IT | 12K likes

╰ user43: she wasn’t trying to stop it either

╰ user04: when he asked her to go web-slinging 🫦

user69 (2 hours ago)

would pay exponential amounts of money to see an uncut version of this | 128K likes

user420 (2 hours ago)

the random nightwing stray???? 😭😭😭 | 44K likes

╰ user55: bro is FUMING

╰ user67: he’s impregnating one of his fans just to make spidey more mad at the fact that he’s giving them a bad rep

╰ user58: and i’m the baby mama!

╰ user06: sorry! the baby mama is actually me!

╰ user88: i need to see them interact!

╰ user77: i fear spidey is putting him through the wall

johnnystorm (2 hours ago)

this motherfucker has no game istg | 404K likes

╰ mattthelawyer: how does he have the bucket right in front of him and yet still not score???

╰ johnnystorm: dawg idk, this is baddd

╰ user100: how tf is matt the blind lawyer typing if he can’t see shit?

╰ user44: user100 never heard of asking siri to read the comment out loud

user667 (2 hours ago)

their sex tape would go crazy | 69K likes

user111 (2 hours ago)

watching this after being broken up with was NOT a good idea lmaooooo | 101K likes

ironfistyoass (2 hours ago)

and i thought i was bad at realizing flirting attempts | 91K likes

╰ user789: it’s not even that he’s bad at flirting, it’s just that neither of them will fucking admit shit 😭

peterbparker (2 hours ago)

loved this one y/n, great interview! | 1K likes

╰ user123: jolly aah mf

╰ user457: basic ass comment

╰ user843: ur that mf from the daily bugle, u know spider-man, get this motherfucker on game or tell him to pass the controller!

╰ peterbparker: you think I know spidey personally?

╰ user843: yes. get on it.

user674 (2 hours ago)

i love how he says he doesn’t want to be on trending for flirting with fans and yet he’s been #1 trending for 2 hours bc of this interview 😭😭 | 690K likes

user999 (2 hours ago)

imagine if they become the next rpf final boss like superman and lois lane | 55K likes

╰ user885: their sex tape didn’t leak, this couple’s will atp

╰ user798: still can’t believe they actually became a thing

╰ user321: loved how they went from denying their relationship every single time they were seen out together. the amount of times “i’m just interviewing him” was said is insaneee

╰ user541: everyone remembers that casino video leaking of batman, wonder woman, green lantern, and the flash putting bets of them ‘cause even they were shipping them!

╰ user999: everyone was there for the sky photos

╰ user561: when they got photographed fucking on the daily planet logo 😭😭😭

masterlist is here! click here for more!

ⓘ KENTLUV3R’S WORK. all my fanfics (not the characters) is my very own, coming from my own efforts and my time. do not copy my work, rewrite it, shove it through an ai machine and shit out slop, and don’t repost to wattpad/ao3/c.ai!

[i-lovewallywest]

Ridiculous

batfam x daddy's girl batsis! reader (also wally west x reader bc we love him)

"c'mon bruce, this is SO unfair!"

bruce wayne didn't do favourites. he tried his best to make that very known amongst the family... but having 5 boys and 2 girls made it a bit hard. especially since they were much nicer to him than his sons.

and with that meant that you and cass got whatever you wanted! which brings us to now.

dick shoved his phone in bruce's face with furrowed brows and a pout. on the screen was a picture of you and wally in swimsuits laying on a beach in hawaii, your arms wrapped around his neck as you both smiled into the camera. very much not the training reserve you said you were going to.

"you'd NEVER let me go on a romantic vacation with kori!" he argued. bruce just sighed, pushing the device away from his face. "your sister isn't on vacation, she's training with wally. she deserves a break."

dick just crossed his arms. "that's bull and you know it! you literally let her use the bat-copter! i'm not even allowed to touch the BATMOBILE!" "well, that's because you crashed the batmobile last time. your sister is always very safe on the helicopter."

jason, from the other side of the room, looked at bruce in disbelief. "SHE CRASHED MY MOTORCYCLE!" "she merely forgot to put it in park, she had a long night. sprained her wrist." before the boys could retort, bruce's phone started ringing your favourite song. of course he had a custom ringtone for you.

he pressed accept, holding his phone up to his ear with a gentle smile. "hi sweetheart, did you need something? oh, of course you can use my card. sushi? sounds delicious. well, have fun, okay? see you tomorrow. bye baby, i love you. stay safe."

as soon as he hung up, his two sons deadpanned at him. he just rose a brow in response. "...what?"

"this is fucking ridiculous.

meanwhile...

"you're so fucking cute wally" you cooed at your boyfriend's sleepy face, ginger hair pointing every which way. you were both still in your swimsuits, cuddling in the king sized bed at the beach side house your dad had rented specifically for you.

wally grinned up at you, kissing your jawline. "and you're so pretty, baby... but i think your brothers might kill me when we get back."

[creamkopi]

# GO ! ★ sakusa kiyoomi smau.

what on earth happens when the newly appointed advertising intern, accidentally makes the msby black jackals blow up after filming a stupid tiktok dance challenge while in working hours? and how the hell did she end up making SAKUSA KIYOOMI actually wanting to do social media trends?

content. annoyances to lovers, mutual pining, pathetic yn, yn is a menace, ooc characters, fluff, mostly a crackfic, mild angst?, slight university!au, chaotic tiktoker!yn

MASTERLIST

profiles — smort ★ black jack(asses)als

extras — yn’s ad board ★ omi’s spreadsheet

CHAPTERS (finished) (please don’t spam like! ly)

1. unemployment era soon? ★ 2. spaghetti ★ 3. loathing, unadulterated loathing ★ 4. not cute anymore ★ 5. lost media ★ 6. what is love ★ 7. macarena ★ 8. accidentally in love ★ 9. scream by troy bolton ★ 10. rowley jefferson reference? ★ 11. dive (written part) ★ 12. hoedown throwdown ★ 13. camera man duties

taglist: closed

© kurumiumiu. please do not repost, plagiarise, translate, or feed my work to ai.

[eggyrocks]

the maneater: h. iwaizumi

she dj’s at ‘the maneater’ every weekend, and she’s the highlight of iwaizumi’s bouncer shift.

divider credits to plutism

main masterlist

pairing: iwaizumi x f!reader

status: completed

tags/warnings: reader is a dj at a night club, iwaizumi is the bouncer, enemies to lovers, smau, alcohol/drinking, language, slightly suggestive, smoking, arguments, very slight angst buried under humor, probably will be out of character, please note warnings may change as story progresses, and to check each chapter for individual warnings

taglist: CLOSED

yn aesthetic | iwaizumi aesthetic | playlist

yn style guide | yn style guide (pinterest board) | makeup look book | acrylic look book

INTRODUCTIONS: bad girls club | fuck you oikawa

CHAPTER ONE: club classics

CHAPTER TWO: the baddest (badder)

CHAPTER THREE: von dutch

CHAPTER FOUR: 212

CHAPTER FIVE: yummy

CHAPTER SIX: phantom

CHAPTER SEVEN: ecstasy

CHAPTER EIGHT: guess

CHAPTER NINE: diet pepsi

CHAPTER TEN: party 4 u

CHAPTER ELEVEN: claws

CHAPTER TWELVE: forever

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: encore

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: spring breakers

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: my girl

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: track 10

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: image

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: detonate

CHAPTER NINETEEN: hit me where it hurts

CHAPTER TWENTY: everything is romantic

[dumdogs]

MISSED CONNECTION - MIYA OSAMU

a mini smau

JUNE 2, 2026, 6:32AM: if you’re the girl dressed like a hot dog that just knocked me on my ass on the side of the road, please know that i am in love with you.

TO SUMMARIZE - miya osamu meets the love of his life on his way to work for about two minutes total, and then spends five weeks trying to find her.

PLEASE BE AWARE that this story contains written parts, longing, alcohol, swearing, lewd jokes, and everyone is out of character. warnings may change as the story progresses

STATUS: completed

INTRO: the worst people in the world

INTRO: miya atsumu has a piss kink

CHAPTER ONE: love at first sight does not exist

CHAPTER TWO: eggs

CHAPTER THREE: stalking is a serious crime

CHAPTER FOUR: what attachment style are you

CHAPTER FIVE: let's be real second

@cashmakozume you inspire

[imfeelingtheaster1]

Put a Ring On It! - Pt. 3

link to master list

bruce wayne smau!! fem!reader (works at the iceberg lounge but it's not SUPER plot relevant)

NONE OF THE PHOTOS USED ARE MINE (except spain and the one of your dog) yes it's my dog NO it's not a self insert because i use it for a plot point. if you don't like it sorry

the photos of you and bruce are of a white girl with dark hair idek why im legit black but that's how it came out ask systemic and internalized racism idk

CW: mentions of sex

love you thank you for reading!!!

p.s. i just want to clarify that none of the time stamps are relevant it's fully just the time i made it

p.p.s. if you like this and you wanna read more of my work, my reqs are open!! any of the fandoms in my bio are cool! i’m going away for a month and i won’t have my phone, so i want some prompts for while im gone. PLEASE

………………………………………………………………………………………….

…………………………………………………………………………………………

[llovelygood]

Miss is dating a rich guy // Dick Grayson x teacher!reader

— After a trip with your senior students, you accept their following requests on instagram, and they find out their favorite teacher is dating the hottest Wayne boy.

!!: 1k celebration — Ice Cream Order!! smau + a narrated part. fluff. fem!reader. Pictures are from Pinterest. The students are OCs.

[dc masterlist]

bludhavenhighschool

liked by yourusername and 203 more

Our senior students have traveled to Paris for two weeks with their favorite teachers before starting their last semester!!

comments:

mylove_mary best trip everrr!!!

bianca13 what happens in Paris stays in Paris 🤭

lucas007 had the best time with our chem teacher

⤷ katy_smith we love you @/yourusername ❤️ ⤷ maxwillson you're the best @/yourusername

yourusername 🔒

liked by dickgrayson and 78 more

Paris with my annoying students 🥐

comments:

katy_smith I feel so honored miss accepted my following request

⤷ tatianaaaa she accepted all of us, you're not special ⤷ yourusername you're one second away of being kicked out Tatiana ⤷ cooper.peter dayumm miss

lucas007 come on miss don't lie we're not annoying

⤷ maxwillson that's right and you love us ⤷ yourusername do I???

bianca13 we love you miss, thank you for coming with us 🫶🏻 ♥︎ liked by the author

dickgrayson glad you had a great time my love ♥︎ liked by the author

⤷ mylove_mary MISS HAS A BOYFRIEND???? ⤷ faryhannah where have I heard his name before?

yourusername has posted a story:

direct messages:

yourusername 🔒

liked by dickgrayson and 81 more

Since you all (my beloved students) were wondering what my mystery plans for yesterday night were, here you have it

comments:

dickgrayson you looked stunning babe ❤️

⤷ yourusername love you 💋

lucas007 miss if I pass this exam would you ditch your boyfriend and date me?

⤷ yourusername Lucas, you haven't passed any of my exams since the start of the school year ⤷ lucas007 but what if I surprise you in this one ⤷ yourusername I doubt it because I saw you and Max cheating ⤷ maxwillson hey that's not true! ⤷ yourusername don't even try to deny it max

tatianaaa where's the dress from miss??

⤷ yourusername I don't know, it was a gift from my boyfriend Tatiana ⤷ dickgrayson it cost 30.000$ btw

faryhannah miss are you secretly rich?

⤷ yourusername I am not hannah ⤷ mylove_mary then your boyfriend is ⤷ dickgrayson kind of ⤷ yourusername dick stop messing with my students

bianca13 you look really pretty miss

⤷ yourusername thank you Bianca 💕

katy_smith miss why where you in the Wayne Gala?

⤷ yourusername fulfill my duty as a girlfriend ⤷ faryhannah STOP I FINALLY RECOGNIZE THE NAME YOU'RE DATING THE DICK GRAYSON ⤷ dickgrayson the one and only

You knew that your first lesson with your senior students on Monday was going to be a mess. They were going to try and find out every single detail about your relationship with Dick, now that they knew you were dating the son of a billionaire. 

The first student to enter your classroom was Lucas, followed by Max. Both of them, instead of taking their assigned seats, walked over to you with a big and confident smile. 

“Have you corrected my exam Miss?” Lucas asked, crossing his arms and tilting his head slightly. He looked far too confident, and you knew him all too well. You knew he was going to try and sweet talk you out of his fail, or convince you that he didn’t cheat, even though you saw him looking at his phone. 

“Yes, but only yours and Max’s,” you smirked. 

“And?” Max joined the conversation.

“You guys failed,” you informed them, with a smile full of satisfaction from your student’s groans.

“But how!?” Lucas dared to ask.

“You guys should already know not to trust Chat GPT. Every single exercise was wrong.” 

Max made a defeated sound and turned around to go to his seat. However, Lucas stayed. 

“Do you need anything else, Lucas?” You asked calmly.

“Did you fail me because you didn’t want to take my offer of dating me and ditch your rich boyfriend?”

“No. It’s because you cheated and chose the worst way of cheating. Now go to your seat.” 

By the time the bell rang, marking the start of the lessons, all your students were on their seats. This calmness and good behaviour from all of them was unusual. They usually would be talking with each other, updating everyone about their weekend, but today they were all silent and focused on you. They wanted something—they wanted you to start talking.

It was not professional to treat your students like friends, and tell them about your personal life—like it was not professional to accept their following request in instagram, but you did that. 

You scanned the room. Every girl wore a smirk on their faces, eager to ask you about the gala and your absurdly hot and rich boyfriend. You knew they had been thirsty for gossip since you posted those pictures at the gala on Saturday.

Your hands went to your hips, accepting defeat. “What do you guys want to know?”

Hannah raised her hand, but Tatiana was quicker and more rude, talking before being asked to do so. 

“How do you date a rich guy?” The type of question someone like Tatiata would ask. She doesn’t care about you or Dick, she cares about how she could get the exact same thing as you: a rich guy that buys her expensive dresses, and takes her to fancy galas.

“You don’t choose the rich guy, the rich guy chooses you,” you mocked the popular saying, usually used for pets. “Hannah?”

“How did you both meet?” Hannah, you very polite, celebrity obsessed, student asked. 

“We met at Blüdhaven’s police station,” you started explaining, with a loving and nostalgic smile on your face. “I went there after a guy stole my purse. Dick had already finished his shift there and was about to head home, but then he saw me and fell in love.” 

“That easy?” you heard Mary’s voice from her last row seat. 

“Well, yes. He won me over when he said, ‘I was going to ask for your number, but I guess you don’t have one anymore.’ He’s incredible,” you recalled. Dick had been trying to cheer you up that afternoon while you were waiting to report the theft. He’d succeeded, because after all his attempts to make you smile, you finally did—and you accepted his invitation to go out to dinner with him sometime. 

“Do you know many celebrities?” This time Bianca asked.

“Not really, no.” The whole class let out a sigh of disappointment. “Oh well, sorry,” you said sarcastically.

“I thought Dick was a model, not a police officer…” Hannah wondered. 

“He models sometimes, but that’s not his real job,” you answered, and picked up the white chalk from your desk. “Now, let’s begin with the lesson, shall we?”

You began writing some chemical equations on the board, while you heard your teenagers whispering behind your back. You could hear the girls sharing their liking for your boyfriend and saying how handsome he was. Meanwhile, the boys didn’t care that much, so they went back to their regular conversations about sports.

yourusername 🔒

liked by dickgrayson and 76 more

Life of the rich or whatever

comments:

dickgrayson I love my woman

⤷ yourusername as you should

faryhannah the cutest dog 😭

⤷ tatianaaaa wdym the dog is missing a leg lol ⤷ mylove_mary miss just deleted Tatiana from her followers war is over

bianca13 you guys are the cutest ♥︎ liked by the author

lucas007 I'll wait miss don't worry, I'll always be here

maxwillson I swear I'm studying for the next exam miss

⤷ yourusername I hope this time is true Max ⤷ lucas007 me too miss ⤷ yourusername don't lie to me Lucas

© llovelygood

A/N: SPAIN WON THE WORLD CUPPP!!!!

Dick Grayson taglist: @princesstrunkz @currentblasphemy @astraeasworld @dlthl @e1ectraaheart @ilocuras24 @kumasakka

[suprsnupi]

horndog boyfriends jason todd && ck-prime (18+) ₊˚⊹

"guys, you will not believe what happened today—" clark stumbles as he rushes to toe his shoes off, probably eager to rant about the idiots he had to talk to at the comic store.

the couch's squeak gets cut off as jason freezes behind you. his cock manages a single, pathetic throb in your cunt before he grumbles, "can it wait until—i don't know—we're done here?"

you can practically see the way his face pinches, even though he's buried your face halfway into the cushions. clark's mouth opens, then closes, and opens again.

"uh...you're telling me to wait, but you started without me?" he asks, offense clear in his tone.

you flick your eyes up, gaze meeting your boyfriend's sharp, tensed jaw. yeah, you think to yourself, he was definitely about to come.

"well, get over here, genius," you say to your other boyfriend, pushing yourself up onto your forearms. jason takes it a step further and pulls you against his flushed, firm chest, effortlessly taking you with him as he sits up.

"don't waste your time," he teases, hooking your pliant legs over his knees and spreading you for your third to see how deep you're taking him.

clark's ears flare scarlet, throat working, blinks coming faster.

you hold your arms out to him while shifting to chide, "don't provoke him, jay."

he presses soft lips to your shoulder, so unlike the way he'd been fucking you before the welcome interruption. "sorry."

clark steps closer, pulling off his shirt in one smooth motion. jason throbs in your pussy again at the shield burned into clark's chest, at the taunting grin on his face. "yeah, jay, stop being an instigator."

you give him an exasperated look and readjust yourself the best you can with seven inches in your pussy. with a grunt, jason's hand flashes out and drags clark to kneel at eyelevel with your joined sexes. your thighs are trembling when he settles between them without a complaint, like second nature.

"oh," clark swallows unsteadily, crystal-blue eyes transfixed on your pussy, "i guess i can pipe down for a little."

the stretch in your legs and the pleasure simmering under your skin makes your head hazy, and clark nudging his nose against your clit feels like an afterthought.

“so pretty like this.” his words are warm on your inner thigh, smarting along your tendons. jason hisses when you flutter around him, tipping his hips up in return. your sigh trembles at the nudge of his cockhead against that spot that makes your vision go blurry.

the calluses on jason's fingers trail up beneath your soft camisole, catch on your nipple, the pert bud hitching between his thumb and forefinger. your thighs twitch again, and clark settles his warm, warm hands on your skin. the heat stays even after he moves on.

“can you touch yourself for me, baby?” when clark says it, he laps at the ring of arousal pooling at jason's base, dripping down his balls. the man behind you mutters a quiet fuck into your neck, gripping your waist for dear life.

you’re still so sensitive when you press your fingers to your clit and trace small, jerky circles over it. clark watches you and jason squirm, drinking in every flex in jason’s fingers and every attempt to close your thighs.

you whine, breathy and low, and he must be having enough of it because he dips forward and laps at your fingers as they slide between your labia. you make another pitched noise, gasping in tandem with jason.

jason lets one of his hands inch down, down, down until his fingers twist in clark's curls, until he’s pulling the black haired man closer into where the two of you are joined, until—

“fuck—clark, y’re filthy,” he groans. jason doesn’t wait for his boyfriend to respond, nipping at the tender area under your ear that makes you jerk your fingers just a little faster and moan just a little louder.

clark matches your pace, tongue cleaning the slick off your skin, mouth suckling at your clit when you pull into the apex of the tight circles you’ve been drawing. jason's right; it is fucking filthy.

he can’t stop rutting his hips up into your cunt, chasing the flat of clark's tongue as he swipes it across your fingers again. you shudder when jason moans, and clark just goes straight back to mouthing all over your clit and the hilt of jason's cock.

your stomach is starting to knot up again, neck tightening, shoulder blade drawing together. jason's as wound-up as you are, too caught in the web of your fingers and clark's tongue and the way you’re clamping just right around his cockhead.

your free hand joins jason's in the nest of black curls making a home between both of your thighs; you tug, just a bit, at the base near clark's scalp.

the man makes a low, stomach-deep sound that comes out rumbling around your stretched-out slit. jason's strained fuck goes ricocheting between your ribs, pinging right into your heat.

you coil clark's hair around and pull again; he makes the same choked noise, burying himself deeper into you and jason. you aren’t even sure if he can breathe there or if the cream that’s leaking out of your cunt is all he needs to fucking sustain himself.

clark pulls back and lets his eyes hunt the movement of your fingers slipping in your own wetness and his saliva. jason reels him back in by the back of his neck, muttering dirty nothings into your ear.

and then you swear you see stars, because clark is pressing his touch to your clit too, grazing his teeth over both of your fingers. jason grinds up for the nth time, twitching in in the way he always does when his balls are touched into that spongy spot that has you whining: please, jay, clark, right there, don’t stop—

he cleans yours and jason’s mess; the gothamite’s hips thrust mindlessly when he cums, heat spilling from your spasming cunt as your digits freeze up. clark's fingers don’t, and he keeps tracing shapes that aren’t even circles anymore all over your twitching clit.

you moan, low and spent and fuck, you can’t help but try to slam your legs close again. “cee, s’too much, please, i can’t.”

he just tilts his head to the side, shallowly digging his teeth into the plush of your thigh. clark taps at the junction of jason’s softening cock and balls—he shudders against your back, whimpering.

the freckles on clark’s forehead follow the movement of his brows when they tilt up and his breath goes beady in the humidity at the peak of your sex when he begs:

“can i please, please talk about that dumb fuck at the store while you both suck it?”

[maayhemi]

premature ejaculation | jason todd x gn!reader

content.ᐟ 18+, p in v, pathetic!jason, crying, praise, premature ejaculation, pet names (baby, angel, honey)

"baby... s'okay" you coo at him, trying to speed up the process a bit.

he's on top of you, his eyes fluttering shut as he relishes in the sensation of you wrapped around his length, taking all of him. he's trying his absolute hardest not to bust right here, especially because he just bottomed out.

"i- i cant-" he takes strangled breaths, shaking his head and letting it fall down to rest on your bare chest. your hand instinctively comes up to meet him, running your fingers through his inky black hair. he leans into the contact.

"jay, im sure you won't cum if you just move a little" you try to bargain with him, the feeling of him just sitting inside you instead of pistoning in and out of you is becoming increasingly frustrating.

he wasn't even gone that long! maybe a month at most. some mission he was dragged away on. not a day went by that he didn't call or text you, going on and on about how much he missed you! how he wished it was your hand instead of his fucking his dick raw every night.

"y-you don't get it, baby..." he licks his lips, looking down at where the two of you are connected, then back up at your impatient face. "i jus- jus missed you so fucking much" he complains, leaning his head down to press soft, gentle kisses to your forehead, your eyelid, the tip of your nose, your cheek, and anywhere else he could reach.

you have to take your bottom lip in between your teeth in order to hold back a smirk. you've never seen him this pathetic.

you experimentally roll your hips against his. he lets out a loud groan, "fuck!" he reaches a hand down to grip your hip hard enough to bruise, his other hand staying at its position on the bed beside your head. "don't fucking- mfph!" he tries not to focus on just how tight and warm and wet you are compared to his hand.

you wince at his iron clutch on your hip. "jason!" you whine, "just move baby, please" you pout, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

he meets your gaze, "angel-" he whimpers, his head falling back down. you don't miss the feeling of wetness against your bare skin. is he seriously crying?

"honey..." you purr, "it's okay, i know you missed me" you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer, making his breath hitch. "you've been so neglected, huh?" you ask patronizingly. he nods.

your sweet, soothing words are enough to make his balls tighten, sending him over the edge. who knew all it took was just a few words to make jason todd cum?

he lets out a soft, muffled moan against your skin as his hips buck into you, spilling warm sticky release deeeep inside of you.

"f-fuck!" he whimpers. he feels overwhelming embarrassment, lifting his head to look at you, tears still falling down his flushed cheeks. "m'sorry honey, m'so sorry" he shakes his head, hand traveling to the back of your head to bring it to rest in his palm.

you can't help but huff a laugh, "don't be sorry..." you speak gently. "we can go again, yeah?"

© mayhemi | all rights reserved.

[fancy-possum]

New Cut, Same Heart ◞ Jason Todd

summary : Your boyfriend has a new haircut.. not only were you not expecting it, you didn’t expect to find it so.. hot?

masterlist ◞ DC Masterlist ◞ ac : @/twalxx

You were halfway through making dinner when the front door clicked open. The smell of garlic and herbs filled the apartment, the low hum of the radio playing some old rock song in the background. You’d had a long day — work, errands, the usual Gotham chaos — but coming home to cook for Jason always made it better. He usually got back from patrol around this time, still wired but softening the second he saw you.

You turned, wooden spoon in hand, ready to greet him with a smile and maybe a quick kiss.

Then you saw him.

Jason Todd stood in the doorway, kicking off his boots, hair still slightly damp from whatever he’d done to it. The usual messy, slightly-too-long style was gone. In its place was something sharper, cleaner — a baby mullet. The sides were trimmed close, the back longer, just enough to curl at the nape of his neck. The white streak stood out even more now, bright against the dark, freshly cut hair. It made his jaw look sharper, his eyes more intense. He looked… dangerous. Hot. Like the kind of man who could ruin your life in the best way.

You stared. Openly. The spoon slipped from your fingers and clattered into the pot.

Jason raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “What? Alfred finally convinced me to get it cut. Said I looked like a stray dog. You hate it?”

You shook your head slowly, mouth dry. “No. I… God, Jason. You look…”

He stepped closer, still in his Red Hood jacket, the leather creaking as he moved. The new haircut made him look taller somehow, broader, the sharp lines of his face even more striking. You couldn’t stop staring at the way the longer pieces in the back brushed his neck, the way the sides were faded just enough to show the strong line of his jaw.

You reached out before you could think, fingers threading through the longer hair at the back of his head. It was soft, freshly washed, still a little damp. Jason’s breath hitched as you tugged gently, testing the length.

“God,” you whispered. “You look so good. Like… stupidly good.”

His smirk widened, but there was a flush creeping up his neck. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You stepped closer, pressing your body against his, one hand still in his hair. The other slid under his jacket, palm flat against his chest. “I can’t stop looking at you. The mullet… it’s hot. Really hot.”

Jason groaned softly, hands settling on your waist, pulling you tighter against him. “You’re gonna make me blush, baby. It’s just hair.”

“It’s not just hair,” you murmured, tugging again, harder this time. His head tilted back slightly, exposing the line of his throat. You leaned in, pressing a slow kiss to the skin just below his jaw. “It makes you look… dangerous. Like you could throw me over your shoulder and carry me off somewhere.”

He laughed, low and rough, but his hands tightened on your hips. “Maybe I will. If you keep pulling my hair like that.”

You smiled against his neck, nipping lightly. “Promise?”

Jason’s breath stuttered. He walked you backward until your back hit the counter, lifting you easily onto it. Your legs wrapped around his waist without thinking, pulling him closer. His hands slid under your shirt, palms warm against your bare skin as he kissed you — deep, hungry, full of all the want he usually kept so carefully controlled.

You kept one hand in his hair, tugging gently as you kissed him back. The new cut gave you something to hold onto, something to grip when he pressed closer, grinding against you just enough to make you gasp into his mouth.

“I love your hair like this,” you whispered when you broke apart for air. “It’s so soft. So easy to grab.”

Jason’s eyes were dark, pupils blown. “You’re gonna kill me tonight. I can already tell.”

You grinned, tugging again, harder. His head tilted back with a low groan, exposing his throat. You leaned in, sucking a mark just below his ear, then another on his collarbone, leaving little bruises that would peek out from under his shirt tomorrow.

He let you. He always let you.

His hands roamed your body — sliding up your back, down your sides, gripping your thighs as he pulled you closer. Every touch was reverent but hungry, like he couldn’t get enough of you. You kept playing with his hair, running your fingers through the longer pieces in the back, scratching lightly at his scalp.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” you murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth. “My handsome boyfriend with his new haircut. I can’t stop touching it.”

Jason laughed breathlessly, the sound turning into a groan when you tugged again. “Keep doing that and dinner’s gonna burn.”

You glanced over at the stove. The pasta was still simmering, but you didn’t care. You kissed him again, deeper, grinding against him as your fingers stayed tangled in his hair.

“Let it burn,” you whispered against his lips. “I’m busy.”

He groaned, hands sliding under your thighs as he lifted you off the counter, carrying you toward the bedroom without breaking the kiss. You wrapped your legs around his waist, still playing with his hair, tugging gently every few seconds just to hear the little sounds he made.

When he laid you down on the bed, he hovered over you, eyes dark and soft all at once. “You really like it, huh?”

“I love it,” you said, reaching up to run your fingers through it again. “It makes you look… dangerous. Like you could ruin me and I’d thank you for it.”

Jason’s breath hitched. He leaned down, kissing you slow and deep, one hand braced beside your head, the other sliding under your shirt to rest warm against your stomach. “Then maybe I will,” he murmured against your mouth. “Ruin you. Just a little.”

You smiled, tugging his hair again as you pulled him closer. “Promise?”

He did.

The rest of the night passed in a haze of kisses and touches and soft laughter. Jason was everywhere — hands on your waist, lips on your neck, body pressed against yours as he moved with that effortless grace he always had. He let you play with his hair the whole time, tugging and scratching and holding on as he kissed you senseless.

When you finally fell asleep, tangled together under the sheets, Jason’s head was on your chest, your fingers still loosely threaded through his new haircut.

He was exactly where he wanted to be.

And you? You were right there with him.

a/n : my eyeliner ran out I don’t feel like myself I’m gonna cry

[llovelygood]

If afraid I won't be able to post any fics until Monday, so here's a sneak peak of a Jason Todd x pregnant!reader fic I'm working on...

Voice message from +1 (XXX) XXX-XXX

Hmm… Hi. I don't know if you remember me, but we hooked up like five or six weeks ago… I really don't know how to say this… We met at that creepy bar near Gotham stadium. We started talking, you gave me your number and then left, but like ten minutes later you came back, we talked more, and eventually we ended up at my apartment. Does it ring a bell? Well… what I wanted to tell you was that…hmm…this is really difficult…sorry, I called you, but you didn't answer so I had to leave this message… what I was saying was that…fuck…I'm pregnant, and you're the father…and before you call me back and ask me if I'm completely sure I'm going to tell you beforehand that yes, I'm 100% certain that you are the father. I'm sure because, I think I told you when you started undressing me that night, but I don't usually do one night stands and you had been the only one I've had sex with for a long time…wow, that was embarrassing… God, I don't even remember your name, I saved you as "hot stuff (call again for a good fuck)"…shit…why did I even said that? Forget that, please…Could you call me back once you've heard this message? Thank you, bye, sorry.

It was 5 am when Jason listened to the voice mail. He hadn't even got time to take off his Red Hood suit when he heard your voice through his phone's speakers. He recognized your voice instantly. It had been the first thing that had hypnotized him the moment he met you. Your voice, with such sweet tone, that could tame any beast. 

The moment when he reached the "I'm pregnant" part Jason froze. He had expected you to call him to maybe ask for another night together—god knows he needed it—, or to return him something he had forgotten and that he hadn't noticed even six weeks later. But the word "pregnant" felt like the type of punch that leaves people without air. He was left speechless and completely lost. He could call you now, but he wouldn't know what to say. Because, what do people say when they just found out they could be a father through a voice message, by someone who had been his one night stand six weeks ago? Besides, it was 5 am and you were probably asleep.

Jason was still trying to recall your name while he undressed from his suit and entered the shower. The cold water wasn't enough to awake him from the shock and the sound of the bathroom's fan was only distracting him from remembering other detail about the night that weren't you moaning his name.

When he exited the shower and looked at his reflection on the bathroom mirror he saw a total failure. He wasn't the image of an ideal father. He was a beaten up vigilante with a shitty life and unhealed traumas that still haunted him. He was not made for loving anyone. 

He thought of you, because it was selfish to think about only himself when he didn't knew anything about your situation right now. You could be thriving. Enchanted with the idea of being a mother, and maybe you were expecting Jason to show up as a father for the poor creature. Or you could be feeling as miserable, like Jason. You could be falling asleep crying, or overthinking, or both. You could be hating yourself for not being careful enough. You could be anxious, and thinking about abortion. But what Jason knew for sure was that you had provably fallen asleep with your nerves eating you up alive, after sending him that voice message.

"Fuck," was the last think Jason said before throwing his aching body onto his bed and falling asleep. He couldn't lie, he was praying for it to be a cruel joke, or a side effect from any drugging gas he had been in contact with during patron and he hadn't noticed. He couldn't be a father. Not now, not never.