boyfriend toji fushiguro shows you how a real man takes care of his woman.
cw: toji loves your bush!! soft sweet toji but he’s also a freak.. mdni, oral f!receiving, praise, mentions of shitty exes. wc: 1.1k, art creds ruu_sugu on x
toji fushiguro is a filthy man, but he is a man in all the ways a man can be one, his fingers are calloused, dirt tucked beneath his nails after hours of labor, sweat clinging to his porcelain skin, a nasty scar cutting across his lip that catches the light whenever it tilts into a cruel smirk. he’s cocky, full of attitude, cruel and rough around the edges, but always soft where it matters, and always soft with you.
he’s a man in every sense, he takes you however you desire yourself to be, dolled up or all natural, he doesn’t give a damn, he loves you regardless, and that follows straight into the bedroom.
he doesn’t care if you haven’t showered that day, doesn’t care if you just got back from a run, he’ll peel your leggings off with rough fingers and drag you over his face without a second thought, letting you settle there, your cunt warm and soaked with want, coating him in it. the desire is evident when he pulls back for a breath, his face glistening with your juices.
he doesn’t even care if you’re on your period, he’ll eat you just the same, filthy and unbothered, spit mixing in as his tongue laps at your pussy, pushing into you like he’s starved. the first time he did it, went down on you like that, it shocked you, none of your past boyfriends ever would, they’d always made a face, called it gross, something to avoid, and toji had only scoffed at that, muttering that they were a bunch of fuckin boys, that a real man takes care of his woman no matter what.
toji is a man, but more than that, he’s your man, and despite the sharpness in his attitude, the bite in the way he speaks, he’s a hopeless romantic underneath it all, and when toji fushiguro falls in love, it’s all-consuming, unwavering devotion.
so when he walks through the door of your shared home, limbs heavy and tired, muscles aching, worn down and scuffed up, faint streaks of dirt along his skin and dried blood still clinging to his jaw and split lip, he barely pauses to shut the door behind him. he’s already moving, already looking for you, needing to bury himself in your warmth, to inhale your sweet scent and fall asleep with you tangled around him, limbs locked together tightly.
the bathroom door is cracked open, steam curling out, the steady sound of water hitting tile filling the space, his bruised knuckles tap against the wood, and your voice, soft as honey, drifts through it, warm and familiar, making his cock tighten in his pants from your words alone, “toji? come in, baby.”
“yeah, yeah… i’m comin, doll.” his voice is low, rough, dragging, the kind that settles deep in your chest and pulls heat low in your stomach every time.
his fingers hook around the shower curtain, pushing it aside, already expecting to strip down and pull you close under the hot water.
instead, he stops.
his eyes land on the razor in your hand, the way you’re about to drag it through your bush, and his expression twists, his hand shooting out to grab your wrist, stopping you mid-motion.
“the hell are you doin’?”
you blink at him, brows lifting slightly, “shaving..?”
his jaw tightens, something irritated flashing across his face as he yanks the razor from your hand. “yeah? well quit that shit.”
you huff a little, rolling your eyes, “why, it makes it easier for you, trust me, i know i let it go too long, it’s just annoying to deal with, don’t start, my dumbass ex used to bitch about it enough.”
that does it.
toji lets out a low, annoyed sound, snapping the razor clean in half before tossing it somewhere behind him, already stepping in, already stripping, clothes gone in seconds. his body is all hard lines and muscle, scars and strength, something you’ve traced a hundred times with your hands, and mouth.
his hands find you again, gripping your waist, pulling you into him, his face dropping into the crook of your shoulder, making himself just a little smaller to fit against you.
“you’re a real idiot, y’know that?” his voice is quieter now, still rough, but softer where it presses into your skin, his breath warm even under the spray of water.
his mouth moves after that, dragging down your body, slow and unhurried, savoring it, the feel of you, the way your eyes are laced with something dark as you watch him, it drives him crazy. his hands spread across your waist, holding you steady as he lowers himself, resting his forehead briefly against your stomach. water runs down his back in uneven trails, dark hair clinging, almost blue under the fluorescent light.
“those guys you dated before me,” he mutters, voice dipping lower, rougher, “they ain’t men. just a bunch of pathetic fucks who don’t know what to do with a woman.”
his grip tightens slightly, grounding you to his touch, bordering on something possessive.
“good thing you got me now.”
the words settle heavy as he drops further, pressing kisses along your soapy inner thighs, slow at first before his teeth catch lightly, a sharp nibble etched into your skin, making you jolt.
“should track ‘em down for even thinkin’ they had a right to you,” he adds under his breath, not quite joking, not quite serious either, before his focus shifts completely.
he moves in between your thighs, nudging closer, the bridge of his nose brushing against your folds, his breath warm against you.
“but right now…” his voice comes out rough, worn at the edges from whatever mission he just came back from, “i’ll show you how its supposed to be done.”
“t-toji…” your voice breaks into a small whine when his mouth finally closes around your clit, gentle at first, sucking just enough to pull a reaction from you.
he huffs out a quiet chuckle against you, low and pleased, his tongue sliding out to trace slow circles, dragging upward from your hole before dipping back down, a finger pressing inside you briefly, just to feel the heat of your cunt, spreading you open and teasing.
his actions aren’t rushed, his mouth working at your core, slow and unhurried, finding new ways to please you with his tongue, on his knees, face and mouth buried in your needy pussy, exactly where he wants to be.
it’s obscene, the way he buries himself between your thighs, hands keeping you open, mouth moving against you with intent, water running down his broad back while your nails press faintly into his skin, leaving crescent marks, soft mewls spilling from your lips, quiet at first, then less controlled as his tongue works you open.
“fuck… that’s it,” he murmurs against you, voice muffled but clear enough, “just like that… don’t need to change a damn thing.”
his mouth moves again, kisses scattered between slow licks, tongue pressing in, then dragging up through you and through the hair you were about to get rid of, like he’s proving a point, nearly making out with your bush.
your fingers tangle in his hair, gripping tight as your body reacts, your thighs shifting, your breath turning uneven as he keeps going, steady, focused, pulling everything out of you piece by piece.
by the time he finally looks up, you’re already wrecked, chest rising and falling, the bathroom thick with steam, his gaze heavy, pupils blown wide as he locks onto your desperate state, a crooked grin pulling at his mouth.
“only dumbasses worry about shit like hair,” he mutters, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes still on you, “so quit thinkin’ about it… i ain’t one of ‘em.”
note: this is lwk dookie but i have another toji fic in the works..
masterlist - kofi - emergency commissions
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Yandere!Boyfriend x Reader (ft. Reader's cat that hates him)
Yandere!Boyfriend views himself as a dark, calculating mastermind who has meticulously eliminated every rival in your life. He took care of the flirty coworker, he blocked your annoying ex, and he curated your entire schedule around him. But his entire criminal empire completely crumbles the second he steps into your apartment and locks eyes with your 8-pound tabby cat, Mr. Chonk.
Mr. Chonk doesn't just dislike him; Mr. Chonk recognizes him as an apex predator trespassing on his territory. The very first time your boyfriend tried to sneak a lock of your hair while you were napping on the couch, the cat dropped from the top of the refrigerator like a tactical navy seal, hissed directly into his face, and swatted him across the nose. It was an instant, blood-soaked declaration of war.
His yandere logic is completely warped by this animal. He genuinely treats the cat like a romantic rival. He’ll sit on the kitchen floor, glaring at the cat under the dining table, and hiss back in a whisper so you won't hear him. "You think you're safe because she feeds you? I could replace you in a second, you furry little demon. She’s mine. Stop looking at her like that." Mr. Chonk just blinks at him and licks a paw, completely unfazed.
Yandere!Boyfriend realizes very quickly that if he wants to achieve his ultimate goal of moving in with you and keeping you all to himself, he has to earn the cat's trust. If he doesn't, you’ll never let him sleep over. So, his data-mining and stalking skills are suddenly redirected toward animal behavior. He spends hours on the dark web and sketchy forums, not looking up your background, but searching: “How to bribe an aggressive feline,” “Cat psychology manipulation,” and “Can you gaslight a cat into liking you?”
Yandere!Boyfriend's attempts at bribery are incredibly intense and deeply dramatic. He’ll show up at your apartment with a bouquet of roses for you, and a literal premium can of wild-caught salmon for the cat. He’ll slide the dish under the couch where the cat is hiding, kneeling on the carpet with a deadpan, serious look on his face. "Eat the tribute, beast. Let us form an alliance. We both want her to stay inside forever. We are on the same side." Mr. Chonk just bats the can away and claws his finger.
Yandere!Boyfriend gets aggressively jealous of the affection you give the cat. If you’re sitting on the couch, scratching Mr. Chonk behind the ears and cooing about how he’s "the handsomest boy in the whole world," your boyfriend will literally pout. He’ll crawl over, shove his own head into your lap right next to the cat, and look up at you with wide, desperate eyes. "I'm handsome too. I don't shed. And I don't scratch you. Pet me instead, please." This usually results in the cat swatting his forehead again, sparking a silent glaring match right in your lap.
Yandere!Boyfriend eventually tries to use high-tech gamer gear to win the war. He buys a super-powered, military-grade laser pointer to entertain the cat, thinking he can tire out his rival. He stands in the center of your living room, frantically flicking his wrist, running the red dot up and down the walls while laughing like a cartoon villain. "Yes! Run! Consume your energy, creature! Collapse from exhaustion so I can have her undivided attention!"
The day Mr. Chonk finally decides to tolerate him is the funniest day of his life. Your boyfriend is sitting on the couch, completely drained and miserable because you went to the store, and the cat casually hops up, sniffs his leg, and plops down right on his chest completely pinning him to the cushions. When you walk back into the apartment, you find your terrifying, possessive boyfriend frozen stiff, breathing softly, with a terrified but triumphant look on his face. He whispers to you: "Don't move. Don't make a sound. The demon has accepted my offering. I am officially part of the hierarchy. We can get married now."
SYNOPSIS - just when sukuna thinks it'll be another round of boring post race interviews, here you come practically calling him a loser on live national tv! wc 1.3k
AUTHOR'S NOTE - the poll winner as a bday gift from me :P ur girl's bday is tmr so i wanted to get this out ASAP thank you so much to everyone who voted :3 not proof read (i need a beta reader omg) enjoy!!
CREDITS - pictures from pinterest, sukuna fanart from @-to00fu, divider from @-cursed-carmine
even with the blinding, and rather unflattering, lighting and flashing cameras of the media pen, sukuna looked as cocky as ever. as a matter of fact, he looked like he thrived in the lime light.
a wave of reporters raised their hands and called for his attention but sukuna was drawn to you. the only one who wasn't hollering over others but there you were, front and center against the barricade. he struts over to your side, stopping just before the mic before he juts his chin in your direction as he spoke into the mic, "the pretty lady with the cute notepad in the front.'
you give him a bland smile that did not reach your eyes. “charming,” you say. “rather impressive drive today, from twelfth to p2. that overtake in lap 11 was impressive, but some are questioning whether it was truly necessary so early in the race."
"what can i say? my instincts told me to follow through, and it paid of," he shrugs.
"you nearly locked up and lost the rear," you challenge.
sukuna's eyes narrowed a fraction, unnoticed by others but not by you.
"that's racing," sukuna says, "if i don't take the gap, someone else will."
"so you believe it was worth dropping two seconds because your tires overheated? and of course, you ignored the recommended pit stop." your voice remained steady, your face seemed almost bored; as if you were lightly scolding a child for something so obvious. had it been anyone else, sukuna would've been annoyed and taken the fine just to cuss them out. but for some reason, he only grins at you in response.
"i still got podium though, now didn't i?"
you hum, as if in thought, "well, they do say second place is the first loser." reporters around you mutter in shock at your sharp words, the other drivers sweat dropped as they stared at sukuna to gauge his reaction, one of the drivers even scooting away from sukuna in a not-so-subtle way.
but instead of blowing up in anger, sukuna only laughs. the sound shocks everyone, it seemed so unnatural coming from him given the tense setting. he didn't seemed offended in the least, in fact, he seemed intrigued.
"you always this nice in your interviews?"
"only to the ones that ignore strat calls."
"i was right in my call."
"you were lucky."
the two of you keep your gaze on the other steady, never once breaking eye contact. sukuna's smirk was now permanently cemented on his face as he analyzed you. ever since he started racing, these interviews were always so bland to him. he enjoyed the fame it got him but that was about it. the questions were always the same and so were the reporters; just any other boring asshole asking the same damn questions. it felt like routine at this point. so it was only natural for him to be so interested in you, the first reporter to ever have the balls to call him the "first loser".
sukuna leans closer the mic as he offers you a question, "you saying im a bad driver?"
for the first time, you return a a coy look at him; almost as if you were silently saying your words not mine. "now, i never said that mr. sukuna."
the other reporters then took this as their chance to try and get his attention to ask their own questions. his team press officer comes up to him and ushers him to another section of the pen, trying to direct the attention away from the interaction the two of you just had on live tv in hopes of preventing a possible pr nightmare. even as he walked away, sukuna couldn't tear his eyes from you until you broke eye contact first and exited the pen, heading to interview another racer. the rest of the interviews were boring as always, but now even more so in comparison to the one he just had with you. he practically sped through the rest of the questions; offering short answers and even blatantly ignoring some reporters. his pr manager could chew him out for it later. for now, he was determined to find you.
by the time post race interviews were over, he was the first to slip away and evade his team in hopes of finding you. he eventually does find you and tries to appear as casual as possible as he watches you do your sign off in front of your camera man's rolling cam. by the time he reaches you, you signal for your camera man to cut it and he puts the camera down, almost shrinking at the sight of sukuna. you turn ever so slightly to look at him, barely even acknowledging him before telling your team to go ahead without you. leaving just you and sukuna.
"anything i can help you with?" you ask him, not angling your body to face him. and though you would never admit nor would you ever show it on your face, you were a little intimidated now that he was standing so close. and with his ridiculous height, he was practically leaning over you.
that snarky grin returns to his face like it was his nature. "y'know, most reporters try pretty damn hard not to insult me on live television."
"now when did i insult you?" you ask.
"i seem to remember you calling me 'the first loser'," sukuna repeats, even if he didn't seem the least bit insulted by your earlier jab.
"i don't believe i was calling you that directly," you justify. "merely referencing an old saying."
"eh semantics," sukuna shrugs. "besides, i'm not here to reprimand you for insulting me."
"then why do you seem like you're waiting for an apology?"
"i'm not, just.. interested," sukuna replies honestly. "not every day someone has the guts to say the stuff you did."
"would you have preferred i say it behind your back?" you offer, the corners of your lips pulling into a small smirk.
this pulls another chuckle from him as he steps even closer to you as he looks down at you with a calm expression-too calm. "you really don't care if the drivers like you, huh?"
"i don't get paid to make you like me."
"no, but wouldn't it make your job so much easier?"
"i wouldn't say that," you say. "you seem pretty intrigued by my methods so i'll take it as a job well done."
the grin on his face widens; this was refreshing to say the least. not only do you insult him, but the way you hold this banter with him was just so easy. perhaps he was still coming off the high from the race. that's what he'll blame it on should this go downhill from here.
"what do you say to a date then? to see how effective your methods really are. and ill show you mine," he suggests, his voice dropping into a low, sultry tone at the last word.
to no surprise, you don't back off. rather, you take a step forward and look up at him alluringly. "then i'm afraid ill have to decline. i don't go on dates with losers."
sukuna barks out a laugh, grinning proudly as he says, "is that so? well don't you worry your pretty little head. my next race is next weekend so clear your schedule for me, yeah?"
you pull away from and turn to walk away. but not before throwing a smile over your shoulder. "win first then we'll see, sukuna."
YAY i hope you guys liked thisss !! also sorry if any of the f1 terminology is off.... i had to larp for this fic :((( i will prob make a part two tbh (about how their date goes and MAYBE some smut if im up to it) lmk how we feel and if you wanna be added to the taglist :D
EDIT!! read part two hereeee
zayne who makes out with you to lull you to sleep.
he knows it’s not easy for you to fall asleep. he’s woken up to you wide awake at 3am, scrolling on your phone that’s way too close to your face. he’s tried every remedy out there—warm milk before bed, tea before bed, no gadgets before bed, reading before bed—yet not a single one has been effective. it always ends with you staying up until it’s time for him to wake up.
only one thing ever worked, though. kissing you until you pass out.
as soon as you finish your nighttime routine, zayne is already ushering you to his lap. he sets his book down on the bedside table, slips his glasses off, and lets his hands run up and down your sides in slow, soothing motions. in the summer, he even uses his evol, a gentle coolness settling over your skin just enough to make you relax.
once you’re on top of him, it starts with a kiss to your cheek. then another along your jaw, before he drags his lips down your neck. after that, he comes back up to meet your mouth, slotting his lips with yours. he doesn’t rush it. doesn’t deepen it more than necessary. just steady, unhurried kisses meant to calm your breathing rather than steal it away.
without breaking contact, he eases you down onto the bed, movements careful and practiced. one hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing softly against your skin while the other keeps you close. his kisses grow slower, softer, lingering just a second longer each time.
he murmurs quietly inbetween—nothing dramatic, just low reassurances, reminders that he’s here, you’re safe, that you don’t have to think about anything else. eventually, he turns the two of you onto your sides, pulling you flush against his chest.
his hand slips under your sleep shirt, meticulous fingertips tracing circles along your back. his nails scratch lightly, rhythmically, exactly the way he knows you like. your breathing eventually evens out without you realizing it, body melting into his.
there’s a small smile on his lips when he feels you go slack against him.
and as your eyes finally flutter closed, zayne doesn’t stop right away. he presses one last kiss to your lips, thumb brushing beneath your eye as if to make sure you’re really asleep. only then does he still, arm tightening around you just slightly.
you fall asleep to the sound of his steady breathing and the cool comfort of his presence—while zayne stays awake a little longer, making sure you don’t wake again.
the thing about your boyfriend, kirishima , is that he sleeps like he’s dead or doesnt sleep at all. better yet, he sleeps like a rock.
the type of sleeper that doesn’t budge — no matter how many times you poke his cheek, nudge his shoulder, or drape your body over him just to get a reaction.
the second kirishima lets his head hit the pillow, it’s like a switch flips. one minute he’s laughing, grinning wide, all sharp teeth and warmth, and then the next… he’s out cold, arm slung over you like it’s second nature.
kirishima is also the type to subconsciously cuddle you in your sleep. even if he falls asleep on his side of the bed, he will end up glued to you. arm around your waist, leg thrown over yours, face tucked into your shoulder or neck, mumbling in his sleep: “you’re… so pretty…” “my girl…”
on top of that, kirishima’s strength does NOT turn off... if he falls asleep holding you, whether it be your hand or your waist, you’re not escaping until he’s fully conscious. if he’s feeling nice that is…
but . . . on the nights kirishima doesn’t sleep, it’s the complete opposite.
he’ll lie there beside you, eyes open, staring at the ceiling as if tracing imaginary constellations. quieter than usual. yet his hand still always finds yours under the blanket, thumb brushing over your knuckles in slow, absent circles.
boyfriend kirishima is also equivalent to that of a heater. his body runs warm 24/7, so sleeping next to him is like having a built in heated blanket . . . just one that talks in his sleep.
so yeah, your boyfriend sleeps like a rock. but a warm rock of endless praise and affirmation. a heavy one at that. but you love it.
summary: You go to Peter’s expecting a normal hangout, only to accidentally discover he’s Spider-Man… and react way more excited than he was prepared for.
warnings: use of y/n, fluff, friends to lovers, mutual crush, identity reveal, humor, mild suggestiveness, awkward nudity (non-explicit), aunt may interruption, chaotic reader, peter parker being a mess, first kiss, light teasing, lower case intended!
notes: reader is said to have hair.. sorry if you're bald! slightly proofread!
word count: 3.9k
you were sitting cross legged on Peter’s bed, absently flipping through a worn comic book, the pages soft from being read a hundred times over.
the oversized Spider-Man top you borrowed from peter.. and maybe planned on never giving back, slipped slightly off one shoulder, your pajama pants loose and comfortable against your legs.
every now and then, you glanced toward the door, listening for footsteps.
ned had bailed last minute, something about his grandma needing help “cleaning spider webs off the ceiling,” which sounded completely made up but you hadn’t pressed.
honestly… you didn’t mind.
if anything, it made your stomach flutter a little.
because now it was just you and Peter.
you tried not to smile at the thought, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you turned another page without really reading it.
you’d been looking forward to this all day, telling yourself it was just a normal hangout, nothing special but the quiet would feel different without Ned there filling every silence.
your eyes drifted around peter’s room, the scattered school books, the cluttered desk, the half finished projects and you couldn’t help but feel a little fondness bloom in your chest. It all felt so… him.
and maybe just maybe you liked him a little more than you should.
okay, a lot more.
but it wasn’t like it was one sided… right?
you bit your lip, staring down at the comic in your hands, though your mind had completely wandered.
the way he looked at you sometimes, the way his voice softened just a bit when he said your name…
or how he’d glance at you first when something funny happened, like your reaction mattered more than anyone else’s.
or the way he’d get just a little flustered when you stood too close, like he didn’t quite know what to do with his hands, or his words, or himself... it had to mean something.
a small smile tugged at your lips as you hugged the comic a little closer to your chest.
yeah… you were pretty sure peter liked you too.
a sudden thwip at the window made you jump.
the comic in your hands slipped slightly as your grip tightened, eyes snapping toward the sound.
the window.
something had hit it.
another faint creak followed, the soft rattle of glass shifting in its frame, like something or someone was right outside.
for a split second, everything stilled, your heart kicked hard against your ribs.
peter wasn’t home yet.
and may was downstairs.
so… who?
you slowly sat up straighter on the bed, pulse thudding in your ears, every instinct suddenly on edge as you turned your head and stared at the window, waiting for something, anything to move.
a small tug, so quiet you almost thought you imagined it but no, the bottom edge of the window shifted, just barely, like something was pulling at it from the outside.
the latch gave with a soft click, your fingers curled more on the comic book, gripping harder while your eyes stayed locked on the window as it began to slide open a few inches on its own.
cool air slipped into the room first, brushing against your skin, lifting the curtains just enough to make them sway.
your heart was pounding so loud you were sure may could hear it from downstairs.
the window opened wider.
the outside noise crept in, distant traffic, a horn somewhere far off, the hum of the city.
a slow, creeping chill ran down your spine as something moved around outside of the window.
you couldn't move or speak, it was like you were frozen in place.
a blur crossed your line of sight, and before your brain could catch up, a figure swung through the opening with impossible speed, landing inside peter’s room in one smooth motion.
a quiet thud against the floor, crouched perfectly, like they had done it a thousand times before.
you watched, breath trapped in your chest.
the figure stayed crouched for a second, one hand pressed flat against the wall, the other steadying them on the floor.
muscles coiled, alert, like they were listening for something outside.
oblivious to the fact that someone was already in the room.
then slowly, almost cautiously, they straightened. The light from the window caught the fabric of the suit, and suddenly the details came into focus.
your stomach dropped, 'No way.' you thought to yourself.
standing in the middle of peter’s room was spider-man.
the suit shimmered faintly under the sunlight, all red and blue. Then, almost hesitantly, they reached up and pulled at the mask.
your eyes widened, jaw slowly falling open as the mask came off.
peter parker’s face was revealed, messy hair falling across his forehead, eyes wide and frantic, cheeks already pink from exertion.
peter, unaware that you were already there, exhaled shakily and began loosening the suit.
first he tugged at the shoulders, peeling them down slowly, you stayed silent, captivated, every muscle of your body tense as you watched.
he slid the sleeves off one by one, then slowly reached for the zipper at the back of the suit, sliding it down just far enough to reveal the top of his chest.
then, sliding the arms down, revealing his pale, toned arms that flexed with each subtle movement.
his breath was heavy, his movements were careful, as if he could feel the tension in the empty room even though he thought he was alone.
your eyes, though you tried to look away, betrayed you.
they lingered, dragged along the lean lines of his arms, the curve of his shoulders, and then his back as he slid the suit down further.
and then, without warning, his eyes flicked to the bed.
you. sitting there. watching. silent. time seemed to freeze.
peter froze mid motion, hands clutching the suit at his waist, face flaming red. “y-y/n…” he stammered, voice breaking slightly.
“peter.” your voice came out breathless, barely a whisper at first, then louder as realization hit. “you… you’re… spider-man?!” eyes still tracing him, but now in full realization. “It’s you… the whole time… it was you?”
“how’d you get in here i-“ he spoke, tilting his head before you cut him off.
“may let me in..” “wait… wait… wait!” you shrieked, springing upright. “you’re spider-man?! are you kidding me?! that’s insane! that’s so cool! i can’t believe it’s you!"
peter froze, muscles tensing, eyes wide. “I… I didn’t.. uh…”
you stood up on the bed, jumping around, hands flailing, pacing in excitement.
“this is unbelievable! you’re swinging around the city, saving people, and i had no idea it was you! oh my gosh, peter, i can’t even.. ”
in his panic, flustered and overwhelmed by your energy, peter tugged at the suit’s zipper again. “I... I can’t… just...” he yanked the rest of the spider-man suit off in a desperate attempt to explain, revealing his bare chest and toned torso. by the time he realized it, he was down to nothing but his boxers.
you thought for a second, then pointed a finger at his chest, heart still racing from your excitement. “wait- why didn’t you tell me? why didn’t you tell me it was you this whole time?!”
peter’s mouth opened and closed, cheeks bright red. “I… I… I didn’t… I didn’t think… you’d.. uh…” he scrambled, trying to cover himself with his hands and the discarded suit.
and that’s when it happened, the door swung open.
“peter? Y/N? are you-”
it was May and both of you froze. Your finger was still pointed at his chest. Peter was frozen mid cover, boxers on, red-faced beyond belief. You were half standing on the bed, still vibrating with excitement.
may’s eyes went wide immediately. The image of you two looked… wrong. Very, very wrong.
peter groaned, pressing a hand to his face. “May! I… it’s not what it looks like!”
may blinked at the two of you, clearly mortified herself. “I… I’m going to… give you two a minute.”
and just like that, she spun on her heel and walked out, shutting the door behind her.
the sound of the click echoed in the room.
you blinked at Peter, who was still hunched over, trying desperately to cover himself with the suit. His ears were red, his chest rising and falling quickly.
“well… that was… something,” you said, a grin tugging at your lips, still vibrating from excitement.
peter groaned again, flopping onto his bed beside you, pulling the suit over his lap. “I… I hate you right now.”
you laughed, now sitting, eyes tracing his bare chest. “I love you right now. This is amazing.”
“okay… okay,” you said, leaning back on your hands, still grinning, heart racing. “Seriously… does anyone else know? Like… Ned? MJ? Anyone?”
peter’s eyes went wide. His cheeks flushed deeper, and he shook his head quickly. “N-No! Nobody knows. It’s just… you. You can’t tell anyone. Not Ned, not MJ, not anyone. Promise me.”
you nodded. “Don’t worry… your secret’s safe with me.
you sat up a little straighter, your eyes still on peter. “…What?” he asked cautiously, already suspicious.
you clasped your hands together, leaning forward. “Okay. Hear me out.”
“No.” “I didn’t even say anything yet!”
“I know that tone,” he said, pointing at you.
you grinned. “I just think… hypothetically… as your very trustworthy best friend…”
“Uh-huh.”
“…I should get to try the web shooters.”
peter laughed in disbelief. “…Absolutely not.”
your jaw dropped. “What?! Why not?!”
“Because they’re not toys!” he shot back. “You could, like.. stick your hand to the ceiling! Or your face! Or something worse!”
“That sounds awesome,” you said immediately.
“That sounds like a hospital visit,” he corrected.
you scooted closer, grabbing his arm lightly. “Peter, come on. Just once! I won’t even aim at anything important. I’ll aim at, like… your chair.”
“My chair is important!”
you groaned dramatically, flopping back onto the bed. “You’re no fun.”
“I am fun! I just don’t want you accidentally webbing May to the wall!”
you snorted. “Okay, first of all, I would never...” There was a pause. “…Okay, maybe a small chance, but still!”
peter shook his head, trying not to laugh. “No. Not happening.”
you sat up again, closer this time, closer than before.
"I’m getting dressed. This conversation is over.”
“Please?” you said, softer now.
he hesitated, big mistake because you noticed immediately.
“Oh my god, that almost worked,” you whispered, eyes lighting up. “Peter.. ”
“Nope,” he said quickly, standing up. Peter was shaking his head, pacing a little now, running a hand through his already messy hair.
“No. Nope. Bad idea. Terrible idea,” he muttered. “You with web shooters? That’s statistically a disaster.”
you followed him with your eyes, arms crossed, trying not to smile. “You’re being dramatic.”
“I am not being dramatic. I have experience with these. You don’t.”
you slid off the bed and stepped closer. “Then teach me.”
he stopped pacing. “…Teach you?”
“Yeah,” you said simply. “You said they’re not toys. Fine. Show me how to use them properly.”
he hesitated. you could see the argument forming, the refusal right there. Then he sighed, a long, defeated sigh.
“…One shot,” he said, pointing at you. “One. You aim at something harmless. You listen to everything I say. And the second it goes wrong, I take them back.”
your entire face lit up. “Wait... really?!”
“I’m already regretting this,” he mumbled.
“Peter!” You grabbed his arm, practically bouncing. “You’re the best!”
"Yeah yeah." He said, as he turned around, walking toward his closet where he tossed his suit in.
you watched, very much not looking away this time, as he hurriedly grabbed a pair of plaid pajama pants.
he glanced back at you, feeling your eyes on him. "Turn around!"
you didn’t.
you just raised an eyebrow.
“Y/N.”
“Peter.”
“…Please.”
you hum as if in thought, but finally turned around, holding your hands up. “Fine. I’m being respectful. Look at me, respecting your privacy.”
“I don’t believe you,” he muttered, scrambling behind you.
you could hear the quick shuffle of fabric, the thump of him nearly tripping, a quiet “ow.. ” under his breath.
“…You okay?” you asked, trying not to laugh.
“I’m great,” he said, very obviously not great.
a few seconds later, “Okay. You can turn around.”
you did, he was in plaid pajama pants, a lightly wrinkled t-shirt and his hair was even messier.
“…Wow,” you said, looking at him like you were seeing him for the first time. “You clean up nice, Spider-Man.”
he groaned. “Please don’t call me that.”
“No promises.”
he moved to his desk, grabbing one of the web shooters. When he came back, his expression was serious, focused in a way you hadn’t seen before.
“Okay,” he said, gently taking your wrist. “Hand out.”
you obeyed immediately, he slid the web shooter onto your wrist, his fingers brushing your skin as he adjusted it. “It fits… okay, I think.”
your breath hitched just a little. “Feels… cool.”
“Don’t get used to it,” he said quickly, he lifted your hand slightly, guiding your fingers into position. “Alright. You press here, but only when you’re aiming. And you have to flick your wrist like this...”
his hand wrapped around yours to demonstrate, for a second, neither of you spoke. Then you whispered, “You’re, like… really good at this.”
he huffed softly. “I’d hope so.”
you glanced up at him, your faces closer than you realized.
“…Okay,” he said, clearing his throat. “Target. Uh.. chair. You said chair.”
you nodded, forcing yourself to drag your eyes away from him.
“On three,” he continued. “One… two…”
you didn’t wait for three.
thwip!
the web shot out, sticking perfectly to the chair across the room.
both of you froze, then your eyes went wide. “I DID IT?!”
peter stared at the web, then back at you. “…You actually did it.”
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
you were still buzzing.
like, actually buzzing, pacing a little, shaking out your hands like you’d just had ten cups of coffee.
“I can’t believe that worked,” you said for what had to be the fifth time, staring at the web still stuck to the chair. “I mean.. I can, because I did it but also, I can’t.”
peter leaned against his desk, arms crossed, trying very hard to look unimpressed.
“Beginner’s luck,” he said.
you spun toward him immediately. “Excuse me?!”
“I’m just saying,” he shrugged, failing to hide a small smile, “first try? Suspicious.”
you narrowed your eyes. “You’re jealous.”
“I am not jealous.”
“You are. You’ve been doing this for, what, months? Years? And I nailed it in one shot.”
“I was bitten by a radioactive spider,” he shot back. “You had a tutorial.”
“Still counts.”
he huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “Okay, well, tutorial’s over. Hand it back.”
you immediately clasped your hands behind your back. “No.”
peter blinked. “No?”
“One more.” “No.” “Peter.” “Y/N.”
“One more,” you repeated, stepping closer, your voice dropping just slightly.
he shook his head, but he didn’t step away. “I said one shot.”
“And I listened. I did everything right.”
“That doesn’t mean you get unlimited turns!”
“Not unlimited,” you said quickly. “Just… one more.”
“No.”
you tilted your head, studying him, before you stepped even closer, close enough that he had to look down just slightly to meet your eyes.
“…Are you really gonna take it away after I was that good?” you asked, softer now.
he hesitated again and you saw it again.
“Oh my god, you’re thinking about it,” you whispered, a grin tugging at your lips.
“I’m not...” “You are.” “I’m really not...”
“You are,” you insisted, gently catching his wrist. “Come on. I won’t mess it up. I promise.”
his gaze flicked down to where your hand was touching him, then back up to your face. “…One more,” he said finally, like it physically pained him. “And that’s it. Seriously.”
your face lit up instantly. “Yes!”
“I mean it.”
“I know, I know,” you said, already holding your arm out again.
he sighed, but stepped in, adjusting the web shooter back into place on your wrist. “Okay, same rules.”
“Same rules,” you echoed.
his fingers were slower this time, more careful, like he was suddenly very aware of every point of contact.
“Alright,” he said quietly. “Focus.”
you nodded, but your attention drifted the second he stepped in closer behind you, closer than before.
his arm came around yours again, guiding your aim.
“Target,” he murmured. “Desk.”
“Mhm.” “Wrist straight.” “Mhm.”
“Focus,” he murmured again.
you tried, you really did but it was a little hard when you could feel him this close.
“…Peter,” you said softly.
“Yeah?”
“I forgot what I was aiming at.”
he let out a quiet, breathy laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Your fault,” you said. “You’re distracting.”
“I’m distracting?”
“You’re the one hovering.”
“I’m teaching!”
“Mhm.”
“…You gonna shoot?” he asked, voice quieter now.
“…Maybe,” you said, but you didn’t move your hand.
instead, you turned your head slightly.
he was right there.
close enough that your noses almost brushed.
his breath hitched and for a second, he didn’t move.
you glanced down at his lips before your eyes met his, watching him as he slowly leaned in, closing the gap.
the kiss was soft at first, a little tentative, like he was still catching up to what was happening but it didn’t stay that way for long.
his hand shifted slightly against your arm, steadying you as you kissed him back, the was kiss a little more sure this time, a little less hesitant.
the web shooter was completely forgotten.
when you finally pulled back, your lips still tingling, you smiled faintly. “…Okay,” you said softly.
he blinked. “Okay?”
you lifted your wrist up in front of you again, the web shooter still snug against your skin. “Now I can focus.”
it took him a second, then his eyes widened just a little. “Wait..”
thwip!
the web shot out clean and fast this time sticking to the edge of his desk with a soft tck.
you gasped, eyes lighting up all over again. “I DID IT AGAIN!” You laughed, pure excitement bubbling out of you as you grabbed his arm. “Twice! That’s not beginner’s luck anymore!”
“Okay, okay,” he laughed, shaking his head. “Maybe you’re a fast learner.”
“Maybe I’m just that good.”
the web hung forgotten across the room on the edge of his desk.
your hand slowly slipped from his arm to his hand instead, fingers brushing against his.
“…So,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips, “does this mean I get promoted to… assistant Spider-Man?”
peter groaned, but didn’t let go of your hand. “Absolutely not.”
Summary: Adrian Chase has a crush. Everyone knows. Well, everyone but you, the object of his affection, who seems completely oblivious to it all. When the rest of the 11th Street Kids finally reach the end of their respective ropes, they decide to step in.
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI: Swearing, Mentions of sex, Adrian is kind of a creep, Okay a little more than kind of but we love it, Adrian is head-over-heels obsessed (and so so awkward about it), The team is exhausted with it, Chris is really bad at advice, Mentions of semi-public sex, Please let me know if I forgot anything!
Author’s Note: Thank you to the lovely anon who requested this! This dorky killing machine is so fun to write. As always, please let me know what you think!
-
“Holy shit.” Chris says, watching as you dodge one blow and land another with terrifying precision. A butterfly's head is blown clean off in a single shot, and you seamlessly dodge another attack to slam the blade of your knife into the eye of your next attacker.
“Holy shit.” Adrian echoes, but there’s a breathless, dreamy quality to his voice that makes Chris raise his eyebrows.
“Dude, I know she’s hot, but this is turning you on?”
“What? No! I mean, of course not. She’s just…” he trails off as you grab one enemy’s arm, spinning into the man’s chest and firing his gun from his own hand into the forehead of the man across from you. You spin out, and finish off the first guy with a swift kick to the chest.
“Holy shit.” Adrian says again, even more breathless than before, and he’s fucking smiling now.
“Oh God, I think his eyes just turned into cartoon hearts.” Adebayo nearly groans. This time, Adrian doesn’t answer.
And just like that, the entire team watches Adrian Chase fall in love.
And just like that, it becomes everyone else’s fucking problem.
-
He sits as close to you as possible in every briefing. He laughs way too hard at your jokes, and even at some of your comments that aren’t meant to be funny. He stares at you with his ‘cartoon heart eyes’ every time you enter the room, and looks like a sad puppy every time you leave it.
It gets annoying fast. And you’re the only one who doesn’t seem to notice.
You don’t get irritated with him, like everyone else does. For a while, each and every member of the team wonders what your breaking point is going to be. If one day you’ll snap when he rambles to you about anything and everything under the sun, and he’ll end up with a bullet between his eyes before he can finish telling you a new random fact about owls.
And yet, you don’t break. In fact, you don’t even seem like you’re humoring him. You listen when he talks like you’re actually interested in what he has to say. Laugh with him when no one else does. You smile when he enters the room, and you even have inside jokes with him that make him laugh like an absolute lunatic.
And yet, despite how painfully obvious it is to everyone else, you still don’t seem to notice his crush.
-
Chris hits his breaking point when he borrows Adrian’s phone, trying to look up directions to the new meeting spot after his own gets smashed in a fight.
“Okay, dude. We gotta talk about this shit.”
“What?” Adrian looks genuinely confused, turning to him with a completely innocent expression.
“First of all, your phone passcode is her birthday.”
Adrian is immediately on the defensive, pink tinging his cheeks as he grips the steering wheel and looks directly out the front window.
“I-what? No, it’s not! It’s a random combination of numbers. If it’s her birthday that’s a total coincidence. Who even is the she in question, anyway? Like I said, I have no idea what mysterious birthday you’re talking about.”
“Your screensaver is her face.”
“My screensaver is a picture of the whole team, because we’re all friends! If my phone maybe zoomed in on a particular person’s face, I have no control over that! I’m a crime fighter, not a master of technology.”
Chris does not let up, and Adrian looks like he’d be less tortured if his pinky toe was cut off again.
“Okay, then why did you Google her name like, twenty times?”
“For research. She’s part of the team! Who says I don’t Google all of you, in case someone - other than you, of course. You’re my best friend and so I know you’re not - is compromised somehow?”
“Dude, just admit you’ve got it bad.”
“I don’t have anything bad!”
“It’s fine, man. She’s like, a solid ten. If you want some advice, bro to bro, I can give it to you.”
Chris is Adrian’s best friend - well, outside of you now, of course - and he does hook up with lots of people.
So, against anyone’s better judgement, Adrian takes his first bit of seduction advice.
-
The briefing the next day is weird.
Very weird.
When Adrian sits down, he doesn’t sit next to you. In fact, he sits across from you, eyes boring into the side of your head when you aren’t looking and darting away immediately when you seem to feel the weight of his gaze on you. When the meeting breaks, and everyone begins to grab their various weapons and get their shit together to load up the van, he sidles up to you in a way that’s so purposefully casual it draws the attention of the rest of the team.
He leans against the counter on one elbow, looking at you through his glasses from the side.
“Sup.” And that word does not sound right coming from Adrian Chase. It especially sounds off with how much deeper he seems to be trying to make his voice.
Your brows furrow, and you continue to load your gun as you glance over at him. “Sup.” You mimic, just as purposefully low, and offer him a familiar little smile.
That seems to disarm him, just a little. Just enough to make him seem impossibly more awkward as he collects himself and continues.
“I was uh…I was just thinking about how I went out last night. There was a girl with an awesome ass at the bar. Totally top-tier. She was super hot.”
Your confusion is palpable. Some of the team cringes behind your back. Neither you nor Adrian notice. “…Okay.”
“I mean, you could be hot too. If you did your…hair different.”
“Thank you?”
“I mean, not that your hair isn’t great. And your shampoo smells nice. Not that I’ve like, smelled it or anything. It’s- you wear a lot of shampoo.”
“I wear a lot of shampoo?” You repeat, finally cocking your head to the side and looking him fully up and down, taking in everything from his stance to the odd way he’s trying to speak to you. “Are you okay? Did you drink weird milk again?”
“Huh? No! I just…you know, I was just saying you… smell, you know?” he trails off, looking a little lost, and you nod slowly like you think he might be on drugs.
“Okay, thanks… I’m gonna start loading up the van.” You offer him an awkward smile, pick up a gun, and make your way out the door.
He deflates so much, so quickly, that he looks like a popped balloon.
“Dude.” Chris says, sympathy and horror coating his tone. “What the fuck was that?”
“You said to neg her!”
“First of all, if you took Smith’s advice this whole situation is gonna get ten fucking times more annoying.” Harcourt snaps, rolling her eyes and holstering her own gun. “Second of all, who the fuck thinks negging works?”
“Hey, I’ve hooked up with a shit ton of people. If you do it right and not like whatever the fuck that was-“ Chris starts, only for Harcourt to hold up her hand and cut off the end of his sentence.
“She’s not some dumbass at the dive bar, you fucking frat boy.”
Adrian doesn’t seem to be very invested in the argument that follows. He looks two seconds away from bursting out the door and trying the ‘negging’ thing again, like he might be able to get it right with practice. Peacemaker himself gave him the advice, after all. It should work if he just does it right, right?
“Just be yourself.” Adebayo chimes in, a softer voice cutting against the sharp tones in the room. “She seems to like you plenty as yourself. Not…whatever that was.”
“It was negging. It’s when you insult someone to make them-“
“I know what negging is.” She stops him with a helpless shake of her head. “I mean don’t do that.”
He frowns. Looks toward the door again like his eyes might be able to find you through it. “What should I do instead?”
“Be yourself.” She repeats, emphatic. “If she likes you, she’s gonna like you a lot less if you keep insulting her. Or…trying to. I couldn’t really follow what you were doing there.”
And so, now with better judgement, Adrian takes his second bit of seduction advice.
-
You fall asleep on him in the van. It happens slowly, beginning with your eyes drifting shut to the rocking and bumping of the vehicle and ending with your head thunking onto his shoulder.
He freezes. Completely, totally freezes. He tries to catch the attention of the rest of the team, but they’re all too distracted either drifting off themselves or taking stock of their own wounds.
And then, slowly, like you might vanish if he jostles you too much, he leans his body back against the wall. You go with him, still peacefully asleep with your bloody cheek resting against his shoulder and your body so, so close to his.
Okay, step two.
Though patience has never really been his forte, he manages to move his arm with the slow precision that only stems from the years of training and practice that made him such a skilled killer. In what feels like an eternity, that arm is finally wrapped around you, and he positions you to lie more comfortably against his side, pulling your body closer to his and trying not to vibrate from the feeling of your warmth seeping into his skin.
You don’t wake. You mumble something in your sleep, your own mask off and resting beside you, and turn your head into him with a sigh.
You’re so warm. Still covered in blood and dirt and grime but still so, so unbelievably pretty. Actually, you’re always prettier than usual after a fight. Exhausted and full of adrenaline just like how he gets. Your smile is always brighter. Your eyes hold the same excitement as his own. Shit, he almost wants to wake you up just so he can look at your eyes, though he wouldn’t dream of risking losing this moment.
His hand comes up, and his fingers glide through your hair like he’s mesmerized by the feeling of it - which he is. You hum in response to the feeling, still sleeping as your body melts a little bit more into his, and he feels like every nerve inside of him is on fire.
And then, like a bit of a creep, he turns his head into your hair and inhales. You smell so nice. Like sweetness and spice and blood and dirt. He wants to touch you all over. He wants to pull you all the way into his lap and wake you up by kissing you. Like, everywhere. He wants to study you in more ways than just all of the endless staring he’s been doing over the last few weeks. Like the way you might feel against him, with more than just your head and side pressed against his body. Or the noises you might make when he-
A throat clears.
When Adrian looks up, everyone is looking at him.
“Are you…sniffing her?” Leota asks, nose scrunched up in an expression he doesn’t understand. Whatever. He doesn’t understand a lot of expressions. But he understands yours. And when he doesn’t, you usually explain it to him. It’s one of the many, many things he likes about you.
“Do you have a boner right now?” Chris asks, and that expression might be disgust, though he doesn’t really understand why. Chris has seen you, right? You’re probably the hottest person Adrian’s ever seen. How is he not supposed to get a boner when you’re pressed up against him and he can feel your soft breath against his neck? And now you’re moving, snuggling a little more into his side, and he couldn’t help his grin if he wanted to as he turns to press his nose into your hair again.
“Fucking weirdo.” Harcourt mumbles, and Adrian couldn’t care less.
-
He decides to - finally - ask you out. He comes up with at least ten different plans, and keeps asking for advice about every single detail until the rest of the team is minutes away from punching him if he says another word about it.
And, in the end, he doesn’t follow a single one of those carefully detailed plans. He doesn’t even come close.
This battle was rough. Chaotic and violent and seeming to last for hours until everyone is drenched in blood and covered in bruises and limping their way back to each other to regroup.
You just blew a group of butterflies up with a grenade. You didn’t move back far enough to keep the blood and guts off of you. In fact, you’re still wiping it from your face, grinning like a fucking maniac as you pull your nearly-ruined mask from your face and take in the scene before you.
Adrian is already making his way towards you like a man hypnotized. His own mask is off. His hair is damp with sweat. His face is almost as bloody as yours.
“Holy shit! Did you see that?” You ask, eyes wild as you turn to him. “That was awesome! I mean, I didn’t expect that to-“
He grabs you. One bloody hand fists in your hair, the other wraps around your waist, and he yanks you into him and kisses you so hard the force of it would knock you backward if he weren’t crushing you to him so tightly.
The 11th Street Kids watch, awed. You make a muffled noise of surprise, eyes going wide as his mouth moves against yours.
And then you wrap your arms around his neck, and you kiss him right back.
For a while, no one speaks. Your hands tangle in Adrian’s hair, and his other hand drops to join the first around your waist. He lifts you off of your feet. You wrap your legs around his waist. He groans shamelessly, and presses you up against the nearest tree so hard it almost looks like it hurts. You don’t seem to notice, stabilizing yourself with one hand gripping at his back while you pull at his hair and draw a noise from him that echoes through the forest.
“This is getting gross.” Economos says, and cringes as Adrian’s hands start to rip at your tactical gear.
“They are covered in blood.”
“Does anyone wanna stop them before they fuck in the middle of the woods?”
“I’m not going anywhere near that.”
Armor is beginning to come off, crashing to the ground as cloth rips and Adrian starts to mumble incoherent - and probably wildly inappropriate - nonsense into your mouth and against your skin, kissing and biting his way down your throat.
“Okay, you know what? They can figure out how to get home. My eyes are starting to burn.”
Hours later, you do find your way home, breathless and grinning and covered in new marks from a very different type of battle.
They thought Adrian’s crush was annoying before. Now that he has you, he is so much worse.
