reaper

far you’ve come, despite how far

you still have to go

Sleepy sex with Sylus in the middle of the night. You wake up warm all over, assuming it’s because of the literal furnace of a man beside you only to discover it’s him but even better. Sylus is having a wet dream, brows pinched and jaw slack as his chest heaves in an unsteady rhythm. One you recognize all too well, the only other dead giveaway is the visible bulge in the sheets over his groin.

You watch him for a little bit, memorize the way his face twitches and his hips roll up against the bedding. Searching for relief, searching for you. His own subconscious trying to recreate the physical pleasure his mind is conjuring. It makes your stomach flutter, heat surging straight between your thighs as you wonder what he could be dreaming about. What he could possibly be doing to you in his dreams, or what you could be doing to him. Either way, he looks so adorable and needy.

Not able to contain yourself, nor let him suffer for much longer. So you snuggle in closer, running your hand down the planes of his stomach and under the waistband of his boxers to wrap around his hard on. Gasping with him as he bucks into your hold, your nose nuzzling his pulse. Jerking him slowly while kissing on his neck, muttering sweet nothings as you try so carefully not to wake him.

It’s no use, Sylus is too sharp even in sleep. Just as he’s about to cum, those crimson eyes flutter open and a hand shoots over the covers to stop you. “Wait…” thick and groggy, you can feel your panties stick to your cunt as you squirm, peering up at him in the dark. “… I need to cum inside of you. It’s the only way.” You could die happy.

That’s how you end up cradled in his arms, faces nuzzling the other, cock buried so deep inside of your warmth it’s hard to decipher where one begins and the other ends. Sylus somehow has staved off his orgasm in favor of rocking slowly, letting the pleasure melt his mind and body into the mattress. Letting it consume him, letting you consume him in his entirety. Everything he has to offer.

— peter parker x fem!reader, set in spider-man: brand new day [ mild spoilers, mostly au ]

word count: 12k+

CONTENT WARNINGS/TAGS: mature themes (18+), yandere!peter, dom!peter, obsessive!peter, smut, dry humping, fingering, unprotected p/v sex, rough sex, creampie, foreplay, possessiveness, obsessive devotion, stalking, jealousy, territorial behavior, monster/primal instincts, loss of control, rough behavior, biting/marking, angst, emotional distress, panic, hurt/comfort, secret identity reveal, dark romance, fluff/tenderness after sex, mutual love, and a happy ending. mdni!!!

A/N: [i am a yapper so this one’s a long one]. this took me three days to finish after a fleeting idea i got paired with brain rotting about BND turned into a mini fanfic lol. this is also my first time writing smut so i apologize if it’s not polished + english is not my first language so forgive any grammar or spelling mistakes. let me know what you all think! to anyone who reads this, i hope you enjoy. ♡

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you’ve worked at the little deli on the corner of the street in the bustling city of queens for so long you stopped thinking of it as a temporary job.

it was supposed to be something to get you through college. a way to pay your rent, buy groceries, and pay off your studies.

somehow, years passed.

now you know the regulars by name. your daily routine contains of fixing sandwiches for customers, knowing who likes extra mustard, who wants their coffee black, who complains about the price of everything yet still comes back every morning. the work certainly wasn’t easy, but seeing the satisfaction on customers’ faces after you’ve served them makes it all the worthwhile for you.

and then there’s peter.

peter is in his mid twenties, just like you. he stopped by so often that you don’t need to ask him what he wants. you’ve become quite fond of him since he’d become one of your regulars. he’s a sweet guy that always managed to make you laugh, and you’d realized at some point you started to enjoy his company—which you didn’t mind. you started to look forward to the days he’d come in to the deli. 

you’re wiping down one of the tables you served when you hear the sound of the bell chiming—signaling the arrival of a new customer. 

you turned your head to greet the customer, your eyes zoning in on a familiar mop of soft brown curls. a small grin forms on your lips as soon as you recognized him.

he makes his way to sit on one of the swivel chairs placed in front of the counter near the register as you start fixing his usual. 

he caught your eye, a sheepish smile on his face that made it hard for you to be annoyed at him for coming in on a busy evening shift.

“hey,” he greeted you casually, slipping onto the swivel chair. “busy night, huh?”

you scoff, giving him a side eye before you turn around, gathering the ingredients to prepare the sandwich filling.

“you tell me. you’re here often enough.”

peter chuckles softly. “what can i say, you make a mean triple decker.”

“buttering me up now, hm?” you say, crossing your arms with a cocked eyebrow.

he shrugs, his smile turning lopsided. “i’m just saying. honesty is the best policy.”

that earns a soft chuckle from you, turning around to continue working on finishing his sandwich.

peter watches you. he always does.

normally, it’s subtle. tonight, it isn’t. something feels wrong. he can feel it beneath his skin.

a crawling sensation. heat. pressure.

his heartbeat suddenly seems too loud in his chest. peter presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek and forces himself to breathe normally.

not here. not now. he knows what this is.

another episode.

the changes in his dna have been happening more frequently lately. at first, it was small things. his senses becoming sharper. his reflexes becoming more aggressive. his appetite becoming nearly impossible to satisfy.

then came the nightmares. the instincts. the rage. the strange, animalistic impulses that sometimes surfaced without warning.

his body wasn’t simply changing. it was adapting.

he watches you put the food down in front of him, your eyes narrowing as you shoot him a small smile.

“here you go. you alright, peter?” you ask, your voice hitting his senses, a sweet melody that echoes in his head like a broken record.

he swallows. 

hard.

the simple act sends a strange ripple through him. your voice is too clear. too soft. too close. he can hear every tiny inflection in it, every breath between your words. he can hear the faint rhythm of your heartbeat over the clustered sound of voices overlapping in the deli. 

thump. thump. thump.

his fingers curl against his knees.

“yeah. m’alright,” he answers.

his voice comes out rougher than he intends. your eyebrows draw together. 

you pause.

“…are you sure?”

peter nods quickly. “i’m fine.”

the lie rolls off his tongue easily. the creature beneath his skin shifts. not violently. not yet.

just enough to remind him it’s awake.

he can tell you didn’t buy his lie, but you didn’t press further either. 

“alright,” you murmured softly.

you moved away to serve another customer. peter stares down at his food, fists curling into his palms. for a few seconds, he doesn’t move.

normally, the smell alone would have been enough to make his stomach growl. tonight, his senses are so overloaded even the smallest details feel unbearable.

you glanced at him, your eyebrows furrowing when you noticed a cut on his upper right eyebrow, in the process of healing. it wasn’t the first time he’d shown up with cuts and bruises littering his pale skin, but you never questioned him. something peter was grateful for despite the twinge of guilt that would tug in his gut for keeping his identity concealed from you.

before you could say something to him you’re approached by one of the men that always liked to linger around after finishing his meal. he tried to converse with you, some comments a bit too flirty for your liking. you could handle yourself, but it happened far too often and it pissed you off.

peter swallowed the bite in his mouth, hazel eyes fixated on the man that continued to pester you despite you deflecting his attempts to romance you.

he feels a twinge in his gut. he observes the way the man’s eyes drank you in appreciatively. he leans his cheek on his hand—unaware that it had turned into a tightly clenched fist.

peter tells himself to mind his business. after all, he isn’t someone who holds any real importance in your life. you’re perfectly capable of handling yourself, and he’d never interfere with your life or cross a boundary.

that doesn’t stop him from absolutely loathing the way the man eyes you as if you’re a piece of meat. peter’s jaw tightens.

she’s fine. she’s handling it.

and you are. you always do.

still, peter can’t help notice the subtle shift in your expression—your forced polite smile straining at the edges, the way your shoulders stiffen as he leans closer to you.

he notices everything about you. he always has.

peter wants to hear you laugh again. not that forced chuckle. your real laugh. the one he gets when he says something stupid enough to catch you off guard.

his lips twitch despite himself.

he shouldn’t be having these thoughts, much less any feelings—he’s spider-man, the city’s masked vigilante that can’t afford to keep anyone close because of the lifestyle he carries. that’s what he’s tried to tell himself; but he couldn’t help it.

somehow, somewhere between the first sandwich and the countless evenings he’d spent sitting at the same counter, peter had started to look forward to seeing you more than anything else. he shouldn’t feel this way, but he did.

it was stupid. dangerous, even.

he can recognize the difference between your genuine smile and the one you give to people you hold at arms’ length—it makes his stomach twist from how much he loves it.

he shouldn’t, but he can’t help it.

peter fists the napkin that sat next to his plate, his thumbnail absentmindedly brushing the corner of the material.

i could make him leave.

the thought comes easily. a little too easily. one web, one quick trip around the block—

he cuts the train of thought off, shaking himself out of it. the last thing he wanted to do was to scare you off.

you don’t need rescuing, nor did you ask for it. you’re someone that deserves to have their boundaries respected. someone whose smile peter has quietly started collecting into his memory.

peter clenches his jaw when his senses are attacked again by the millions of different sounds surrounding him.

the faint scrape of a chair against the floor. the hum of the refrigerator behind the counter. the rustle of a paper bag. your footsteps moving back and forth.

he lets out a soft, frustrated sigh, shaking his head.

god, he’s in so much trouble.

he fixes his gaze back on you, relieved to see you’d finally gotten the man to leave. but he can’t stop feeling ashamed of himself for having these thoughts about you. he’s conditioned himself to live like a lone wolf, yet you have no idea how you’re unraveling every one of his walls he put up with no effort whatsoever.

peter swallows, pushing those thoughts away.

everything is too loud, too sharp. it’s too much.

peter slowly picks up his sandwich. 

one of the side effects of his altered dna is his appetite becoming almost abysmal. when the episode hits his body burns through energy at an alarming rate, leaving him ravenous enough to eat an entire day’s worth of food in one sitting.

tonight is no different. 

the first bite disappears almost instantly. then another.

peter forces himself to slow down. but his body isn’t interested in what he wants.

it wants fuel. it needs more.

his fingers tighten around his sandwich as another wave of heat rolls beneath his skin.

peter pauses. his jaw clenches. there it is again. that crawling pressure beneath his skin. the monster inside him stirs.

except this time, it isn’t interested in food.

peter’s eyes lift.

they find you. immediately.

the creature focuses. everything becomes secondary. the customers, the traffic outside, even the food.

you. 

that’s all it sees. 

peter’s stomach twists. his breathing changes. the creature doesn’t merely recognize you. 

it wants you.

the realization hits him with enough force that he almost drops his sandwich.

“no.” the word leaves him beneath his breath in a hiss.

peter looks away, but his body refuses to follow. his eyes find you once again. you’re standing behind the counter, reaching for a cup. the creature tracks your every movement. the way your fingers curl around the cup handle. the quiet sound of your breathing. the warmth of your body. it catalogues everything. 

not like peter does. not with affection.

not with the careful fondness he’s allowed himself to develop over months of knowing you.

this is primal. possessive. hungry.

a biological instinct that doesn’t understand boundaries or restraint. it has identified something it wants.

you.

his hands balled into a fist, nails digging into his palms hard enough to break through his skin.

“she’s not yours,” peter hisses at it. his own voice sounds foreign.

the creature doesn’t care.

his altered dna fills his senses, pulsating so strongly peter has to hold onto the counter to keep his body in control. but he’s fighting a losing battle. suddenly, he can hear your heartbeat again above everything else.

thump. thump. thump.

the creature responds immediately. his pupils widen. his muscles tense. his entire body seems to lean toward you before peter consciously realizes he’s moved.

he jerks back, the chair scraping against the floor. you glance over. peter freezes when your eyes meet. 

the creature inside him goes utterly still. not because it lost interest. it found what it was looking for: you.

peter feels something inside him settle with an eerie satisfaction. his stomach drops.

oh, god.

it likes you. more than that. it desires you. not in the soft, human way peter has tried desperately to keep hidden.

the creature doesn’t understand romance. it doesn’t understand patience. it doesn’t understand the careful distance peter has maintained because he cares about you too much to drag you into his dangerous world.

peter forces himself to look away but he can’t. it’s as if some invisible thread is tied between your heartbeat and his. his eyes fixates on you laughing at something a customer said, completely unaware of the battle he’s going through just a feet away. 

that laugh hits him harder than anything else.

peter squeezes his eyes shut. his mind screaming at him to get out.

he needs to leave. now.

peter grabs his wallet, movements stiff and jerky, nearly knocking over his empty plate in his haste. 

“peter?”

your voice. his head snaps up instantly. you’re standing in front of him now. too close. every instinct in him screams to close the remaining distance.

instead, peter pushes himself backward. the swivel chair rolls behind him with a sharp squeak.

“don’t.”

the words come out harsher than he intends. you blink, eyebrows furrowing. his stomach drops.

“sorry,” he apologizes immediately, lowering his voice. “i—sorry. i didn’t mean it like that.”

you study him. for a moment, neither of you says anything. the bustle surrounding the deli continues, but peter hardly hears any of it anymore. the only thing his senses are picking up on is your heartbeat. only you. your breathing. his own pulse roars in his ears, his heart beating fast as if he’d just ran a marathon.

“you really don’t look okay,” you say, breaking the silence between you two.

peter swallows.

“i’m fine,” he relents, cursing himself for the way his voice cracks. 

“you’ve said that three times.”

“guess i’m getting predictable.”

“you’ve always been predictable.”

something about the familiar teasing tone nearly breaks him, his heart stuttering in his chest. because this is normal. this is you.

the two of you joking across the counter. him coming in after a long day of work as spider-man. you pretending to be annoyed that he orders the same sandwich every time. the little smile you give him when you think he isn’t looking. 

peter’s fingers curl around the edge of the counter. 

“i should go.”

your expression changes. the way your face falls? it agonizes him. he hates himself for making you look at him that way.

“did i do something?”

he immediately shakes his head. 

“no. no. it’s just, i—“ he cuts himself off, inhaling shakily.

your lips turn downwards into a frown.

“then why are you acting like you can’t stand to be around me?”

peter’s heart sinks, your question stabbing right through his chest. he looks at you. really looks at you.

for one terrifying second, he considers telling you everything.

something is wrong with me. my body is changing. sometimes i don’t recognize myself.

and right now, every instinct i have is telling me to wrap my arms around your waist and kiss you so hard you forget how to breathe.

instead he gives you the closest thing to the truth he can offer you.

“you didn’t do anything, y/n.” 

his voice softens.

“that’s the problem.”

your eyebrows knit together again in confusion. peter looks away. he can feel the creature shifting again. he knows what it wants. it wants him to stop fighting, to accept that this instinct is now part of him. but peter refuses. because whatever is happening to his dna, whatever monster is waking up beneath his skin, he won’t let it take one thing from him.

his choice to keep you from it all. he tells himself this is for the best. for your protection.

peter steps towards the door, his hand rising to press against the glass. before he pushes it open, he hears your voice once again, calling after him softly.

“peter?”

he stops. his palm hovers over the glass door. he shouldn’t turn around. he knows that. but he still does. there’s concern written all over your face. confusion in your eyes. you’re looking at him like you’re trying to piece together what’s going on, that you’re aware there’s something he’s not telling you.

his fingers curl against the glass. he wants to say something, anything. 

he doesn’t hate being with you. god, no. there isn’t a world where peter would hate anything about you.

for the first time in years, you’ve made him feel things he didn’t think he was capable of feeling anymore. warm feelings he’d been too afraid to name himself. you make him want to stay, to be better. 

and lately, you’re making him want things that scare him.

but the words won’t come.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, y/n.”

he shoots you an apologetic smile, placing some crumpled bills beside his empty plate before pushing the door open, the bell above chiming.

then he was gone.

the cold night air rushes inside before the door swings shut again, and somehow the deli feels quieter despite the fact that nothing changed.

and something about the way he looked at you before he left refuses to leave your mind. you bite the inside of your cheek.

“okay. definitely not fine,” you mutter to yourself.

you return back to work, busying yourself once again as your shift nears its end. but you can’t help yourself from glancing at the window every so often, hoping to see that familiar mop of curls walk in through the door once again. but peter doesn’t come back. eventually, your shift ends.

you lock the front door, pull down the metal shutter, and step onto the sidewalk with your bag tucked against your side. your mind is full of thoughts of peter.

the city of queens is alive around you as you continue to walk. you pull your jacket tighter, the cold biting at your skin that isn’t covered. then you hear something. a faint scrape.

you glance over your shoulder. nothing.

you keep walking, fighting off the shiver that rose up your spine. you had the strangest feeling you were being watched despite not seeing any signs of anyone nearby. you frown after hearing the same sound again, shaking your head as you pick up your pace.

across the street, high above the ground, peter lingers on a rooftop. he watches you disappear around a corner. his fingers curl around the black ledge.

he shouldn’t be here. he knows that. he left the deli specifically because being near you had become unbearable to him. he’d gone home, tried to shower, sleep, do something to get you off his mind. but nothing worked. his skin felt too tight. his senses wouldn’t settle. everytime he closed his eyes, all he could see and feel was you. hear your heartbeat in his ears, a sweet melody that would stir the monster inside him.

thump. thump. thump. 

the lines between its desire for you and his own were beginning to blur, because peter was starting to accept the truth that he’d tried so hard to bury for a long time—that he had wanted you long before the monster ever surfaced.

what started as an innocent crush had slowly become something peter no longer knew how to name. at first, it had been harmless. a reason to stop by the deli a little more often. an excuse to linger at the counter after he’d finished eating, a thrill pulsating through him when you’d flash that sweet smile at him, or laughed at one of his jokes.

peter had liked you. that was all. at least, that’s what he’d told himself.

somewhere along the way, liking you had turned into needing to see you. needing to know that you were okay. needing to hear your voice after a long day, just so he could convince himself everything was normal.

now?

he was standing across the street from your workplace after promising himself he’d stay away. yet he’s here watching you like some … stalker.

what started as an innocent crush had become something possessive. something hungry. something that didn’t feel entirely human anymore.

peter swallowed. 

it wasn’t just the creature that had awakened inside of him anymore. it had only served to amplify his feelings for you in such a prevalent manner that it terrified him. peter had spent weeks blaming everything on the changes happening inside him. the heightened senses, the instincts. that strange hunger that intensified when you were near, his thoughts filling with the thought of having his way with yo—

he stopped himself there, the creature within stirring at the thought, trying to claw its way up the surface. peter gritted his teeth, his breathing growing ragged. 

he was starting to wonder if the monster was really responsible. because the creature hadn’t been there when he’d started falling for you. when his crush was beginning to turn into an obsession.

peter’s chest tightens. 

there it is again. that aching need to be closer to you, to know where you’re going, to know who you’re talking to. 

his fingers curl into his palms. 

peter turns, swinging away back to his apartment, feeling the start of the rut he was fighting back begin to consume him once again. 

he needs to get home.

the moment peter lands on the rooftop of his apartment building he makes a beeline to the windowsill of his apartment, practically stumbling through the window. his chest is rising and falling rapidly as soft, frustrated grunts and whimpers escape him. 

his body feels unbearably hot, every nerve in his being ignited by the heat rushing through him. his senses are still stuck on overdrive as flashes of you fill his mind nonstop. 

you, you, you, you. 

you consume him from the inside and out, his hands pressing against his head, trying to force his thoughts into submission.

“peter.”

your sweet voice fills his mind, the monster inside going feral. peter’s eyes fill with tears as the arousal that hits him is so fierce it overstimulates him. his breathing comes in ragged bursts, his chest tightening beneath the sheer force of everything crashing through him at once. then—

“peter.”

he hears your voice again, swears it’s in his head, too lost in the haze to realize that you were right there outside his door, forgetting that you knew where he lived when he’d brought you over one time before to hang out when he’d decided to trust you.

peter’s eyes sting with tears and he squeezes them shut. another cruel trick from his overstimulated senses fooling him into thinking his mind had conjured a memory of you because he can’t stop thinking about you. 

another knock sounds then, causing peter’s eyes to snap open.

“peter?”

something shifts inside him. your voice is unmistakable—it’s not coming from his memories. it’s coming from the other side of the door. 

shit. shit. things are only getting worse. 

shedoesn’tknowi’mspider-manSHIT—

“peter, i know you’re here,” you call out, your voice filled with worry. “i’m worried about you.” 

peter is full on panicking now.

“y/n, i—i’m fine!” he calls back hoarsely, trying not to let you hear the ragged breaths escaping him.

“peter. i can hear you. you are not fine,” you insist stubbornly. 

peter groans internally. your stubbornness is one of the many things he likes about you, but in this moment it’s the last thing he needs.

he tries to stand from the couch, but his body is so weak to the sensory overload he’s feeling that his body slumps against the bed, the sound producing a thump sound that made your heart jump in your chest.

“that’s it, i’m coming in!” you call out.

“y/n, no! i’m sick, don’t—!”

the door opens (he curses himself for leaving it unlocked). peter’s head snaps toward it, and there you are. standing in the doorway. your eyes immediately find him, and for a moment neither of you speaks.

your eyes fall on the spider-man suit draped over the couch, his mask discarded on the floor a few feet away from him. your mouth parts in shock, a dozen questions flooding you but you stop yourself when you hear peter’s pants and whimpers much clearer now.

your gaze returns to him, taking in the sight of his dampened hair, flushed skin, uneven breathing, the unmistakable pain flashing in his face. 

whatever questions are crowding your mind, you push them aside, making your way to him as fast as you can. you drop to your knees in front of him and you reach your hand out to touch him.

“peter—“

his hand closes around your wrist, this time his grip rough and tight. your breath catches. the grip is hard enough to hurt. he looks down at his hand wrapped around your wrist and for a horrible second neither of you moves. he then yanks his hand back, eyes glassy as they immediately fill with regret.

“i’m sorry, i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to—“ he cuts himself off with a gasp, a choked sob threatening to escape him.

he recoils from you, pressing himself further against the bed. your face crumbles, your worry intensifying as seeing him like this makes your chest tighten.

“peter.”

“don’t.” his voice breaks. 

“don’t come any closer.”

you hesitate. peter’s breathing grows more uneven. 

“i don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

his eyes squeeze shut.

“i don’t know how much longer i can control it.”

you remained where you are, watching him carefully.

“control what?”

peter doesn’t answer. his jaw tightens, fingers digging into the sheets as he fights the creature within him. his chest heaved—every breath uneven, sharp. the creature writhed like a wild thing in a cage, pressing against his skin from the inside. the hunger wasn’t just physical anymore. it wasn’t about food or water; it was deeper, more primal.

peter squeezed his eyes shut, grunting as he was losing more of his control. his lips parted like he wanted to speak, but no words came out. only a broken exhale, a shuddering breath that sounded almost pained.

“peter?” you whispered, heart pounding in your chest.

his hands tighten against the sheets. then peter’s eyes snap open—staring right at you, wide, pupils dilated, swallowing almost all of the hazel-brown color you knew so well. his eyes had become fully black then, shifting into that hazel-brown before turning black again. 

you freeze, your breath catching. 

peter blinks rapidly, as though he can feel the change happening and desperately trying to fight it. but you knew already. you’d seen the monster inside him. 

“don’t look at me,” he all but growls at you. this time he intended for his tone to sound harsh, but you detected the vulnerability beneath it.

you make your way towards him slowly, only making his breathing turn more erratic. you kept moving forward, slowly, carefully. each step made his breathing hitch harder—shallow gasps like he was drowning on air.

his black eyes tracked every inch of your movements, the sway of your hips, the fall of your hair over your shoulder… even the rise and fall of your chest as you breathed. 

the creature inside him went feral at how close you were getting. 

every instinct screamed in him to grab you. to pull you down onto the bed and kiss you so hard neither of you could breathe. his body twitched as he restrained himself, limbs trembling from the effort it was taking him.

you stop just a few feet away from him.

“peter, look at me,” you murmur.

peter snaps his head toward you.

“i told you not to come closer.”

the words come out harsh, nothing like the gentle, awkward peter you know. his fingers fist into the sheets, his knuckles whitening as his entire body trembles with the efforts of keeping himself restrained.

you swallow, but you don’t back away.

“i know.”

his eyes flash black again. peter’s eyes widen when he realizes you’re still standing there.

“i’m not leaving you like this,” you insist, causing his jaw to tighten.

“you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“i do.”

you take one slow step towards him, while he takes a few more backwards instead, putting as much distance between you and him as possible.

“no, you don’t understand. my dna is changing. whatever happened to me—whatever it’s done to me—it’s changing the way my brain works. my instincts, my senses, everything.”

he’s pressed against his desk now, gripping the edge hard enough that the wood cracks beneath his fingers.

“i can smell your fear.”

your eyes widen.

“and i can hear your heartbeat.”

his black eyes lock onto yours. 

“every single beat. all i feel is you.” 

“peter…”

“don’t.”

his voice cracks, an edge to it.

“don’t say my name like that.”

you take another careful step forward, his head jerking up. he tells you to stop again, and you do. for a moment, the apartment is completely silent except for his ragged breathing.

then peter’s expression twists with frustration.

“i don’t know what’s happening to me anymore.” his voice drops, rough and shaken. “one second i’m fine, then the next i’m angry. then scared. then i can’t think straight, and every instinct in me is screaming that i need to—“

he cuts himself off, turning his face away. his shoulders rise and fall.

“i don’t want you here.”

you stare at him.

“you don’t mean that,” you whisper.

“you don’t know what i mean,” he snaps.

“you’re trying to convince yourself you don’t want me here.

a strained laugh leaves him.

“that’s the problem. i don’t know what i want anymore.” 

his gaze locks onto yours.

“all i can hear is your heartbeat,” he echoes his own words. “all i can smell is you. and all i can think about is keeping you close.”

“peter—“

he finally takes a step towards you.

“part of me wants you to stay.”

another step.

“part of me wants to lock that door so you won’t leave.”

you freeze. peter’s jaw tightens.

“i know how that sounds.” a humorless laugh escapes him. his eyes flicker from hazel to black.

“anyone who looks at you too long makes me angry. anyone who touches you…”

his voice drops. 

“i want them away from you so that i can keep you to myself.”

you gaze at him, eyes wide. a normal person would feel afraid hearing those words. instead you step closer to him, your hands within reach of his. he looks horrified by his words.

“peter.”

“that isn’t me.”

you take another step closer, but peter doesn’t stop you this time. his eyes flicker black again, his fingers twitching at his sides.

“you don’t understand,” his voice is strained. “i know what i’m saying. i know how it sounds.”

you gently reach for his hand. peter freezes when your fingers brush his. his gaze drops to your hands, then rises to meet yours.

“peter. why are you trying so hard to fight it?” you whisper.

his breath catches when you step closer until there’s barely any space between you two.

“because i don’t want to hurt you,” he gasps.

his body tenses, the heat beneath his skin intensifying as your closeness overwhelms his already heightened senses. your scent fills his head, drowning out every other thought. a whimper escapes him before he can stop it.

“you have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

his voice is rough, strained.

you don’t pull away. instead, your fingers tighten gently around his.

“i may not understand what’s going on… but let me help you,” you say ever so softly.

peter’s breath catches. his eyes search yours, as if looking for any sign of hesitation.

“y/n…”

“you’re still you, peter. that hasn’t changed.”

you lift a hand up to cup his cheek, and he all but melts into your touch instantly. his eyes flutter shut, his body still tense yet drinking in your warmth as he leans into your palm like he’s been starved for your reassurance. 

a shaky breath leaves him.

“don’t do that, he whispers, though there’s no real protest in his voice. “don’t make me feel safe.”

his eyes open again, inky darkness staring back at you. 

“because then i won’t want to ever let you go.”

your thumb brushes gently against his cheek, your eyes dazed as you gaze at him with a fondness that makes his breath hitch. 

“too late.”

his gaze falls to your lips. the way peter looked at your lips—like they were salvation and sin all at once—sent a shiver down your spine.

that black gaze, so different from the warm hazel you knew… yet still him. 

still peter.

without warning, peter’s lips capture yours, his kiss turning feral almost instantly —no patience, no tenderness.

he crashed his mouth back onto yours, hard, biting your lower lip just enough to make you gasp. the second he heard that sound? the creature inside him roared.

no more hesitation. no more restraint.

his hands slid down your body—gripping your waist, sliding up your shirt with rough urgency, fingers hot against your skin. his lips never left yours, his chest rumbling as he pushed you backward onto the bed.

peter hovered over you, his body tense. his breathing was heavy. animalistic. each exhale warmed your lips as he stared down at you with those dark eyes—no trace left of the sweet peter parker in them.

his hands found your wrists, pinning them above your head as he dipped down to devour your lips again, teeth grazing yours like he wanted to taste every part of you. you moaned softly at the sensation of his tongue circling around yours, hot, sticky and a filthy animalistic edge to it. 

and despite yourself you were enjoying every moment.

the moan—soft and sweet—sent a shockwave through peter’s body. 

the creature inside him purred in satisfaction. that sound was for him. because of him. for what he was doing to you.

peter groaned against your lips, a deep, possessive vibration. he kissed you harder, deeper. his tongue tangled with yours languidly in a filthy dance that made your head spin. you could feel yourself growing wet, feeling so much pleasure just from his intense kisses.

the sound of your breath hitching, your body responding to him like that made the blood in peter’s veins fill with a flame that only burned more intensely. he kissed you like he was starving. like every second without touching you had been torture. 

and it was.

his tongue dominated yours, hot and demanding, exploring your mouth with a hunger that bordered on desperation. one hand finally released your wrists only to slide down and grip the back of your neck, tilting your head for better access.

a soft whimper escaped him between kisses—the kind no one ever got to hear. the vulnerable side of peter parker… completely undone, bared only to you.

peter’s other hand slid down your side, rough and urgent, slipping under the hem of your shirt. 

skin met skin. and god, you were so warm.

his fingers splayed against your stomach, burning a trail upward. he trailed his lips down your jaw, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses against your skin, his tongue darting out to lick and taste you as he reached the point where your neck and shoulder met.

the moment peter’s lips reached the sensitive juncture of your neck and shoulder he bit down, earning a gasp from you. it was gentle at first, then firmer, a claiming kiss that made his teeth press against your skin just enough to leave a mark. 

his tongue soothed it immediately after, a warm, wet stroke over the spot he’d bitten—as if apologizing for being rough… but not feeling sorry at all. that brought a whimper out of you. 

a low hum vibrated in his chest. he loved the sounds he was drawing out of you. 

the whimper. peter practically fed off of it. that soft, breathy sound you made, letting him know he was making you feel good. you were surrendering yourself to him, taking what he was giving you, and it sent a thrill through his body. he kissed down your shoulder slowly, savoring every inch of skin he covered. his black eyes maintained eye contact as he stared up at you, watching your every facial expression carefully.

one bite after another. another kiss to soothe each bite after. each mark was deliberate, possessive. and each one made you melt further into the mattress beneath him.

peter pulls back to gaze down at you. your lips were wet and swollen, your eyes half lidded and glassed over from the hazy pleasure you were drowning in. he felt the tent in his pants growing bigger, a smirk tugging at his lips as he looked at you, reduced to a pretty mess beneath him.

his hand slid down your stomach until it reaches the hem of your shirt. his eyes locked onto yours.

“arms up.”

the command in his voice was low and rough, nothing like his usual sweet tone. it sent a shiver through you.

peter wasn’t asking. he was telling.

and the way he looked at you with those dark eyes burning with hunger, lips slightly parted from kissing you senseless made your stomach flip.

without protesting, you lifted your arms above your head. peter’s breath hitched at the sight of you baring yourself to him, completely vulnerable and trusting.

for a second, he just stared.

then his hands moved—fast and sure.

he gripped the hem of your shirt and pulled it up in one smooth motion, dragging it over your torso… then all the way off.

the fabric hits the floor with a soft thud.

now only your bra separated him from more skin. but peter wasn’t patient enough to wait.

peter’s eyes dropped to your chest; the curve of your bra, the way it hugged your breasts. and his throat went dry.

without a word, he leaned down and pressed an open-mouthed kiss right above the lace, hot breath seeping through the fabric as he inhaled, eyes fluttering shut. the sensation of your skin mixed with your scent was enough to almost make his eyes roll back.

then his hands found the clasp at your back.

his fingers fumbled slightly—not from nerves, but from urgency. 

peter’s fingers finally found the clasp, and with one click, it came undone.

the bra loosened. he didn’t wait.

in one smooth motion, he slid the straps down your shoulders, kissing every bit of newly exposed skin as he undressed you: your collarbone… shoulder… upper arm.

when the fabric fell away completely and landed beside you, his breath stopped. just for a second.

the sight of you, bare from the waist up, flushed and breathless beneath him hit peter like a punch to the gut. his dark eyes traced every curve, lingering on your nipples, hardened from how aroused you were. he could smell how turned on you were, the scent much more intense with his hightened senses. it was absolutely intoxicating.

his chest tightened. with need so intense it hurt.

his eyes flickered back up to your face. without thinking he dipped his head down and pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss against the soft swell of your breast. then another. and another.

you arched into him, soft moans escaping you as the sensation of his tongue licking its way up to take the hardened nipple of your breast between his teeth was enough to leave you dizzy from the pleasure.

the sounds you made—those soft, breathy moans—went straight to peter’s groin.

his tongue circled your nipple again, slower this time… teasing. drawing it into a tight peak before gently sucking it into his mouth. a low groan rumbled from him, the vibration traveling through your skin and making you shiver.

he loved how sensitive you were. how every little touch turned you into putty in his hands. your breathy moans, soft sighs and whimpers were music to his ears. 

one hand came up to cradle your other breast—thumb brushing over the hardened bud, rubbing and pinching as his mouth continued worshipping the other.

the pleasure peter felt from hearing you, from tasting you, was electric.

his cock throbbed painfully in his boxers, straining against the fabric. every moan that left your lips sent another jolt of heat straight to his groin.

he sucked harder on your nipple—just a little—and flicked it with his tongue before switching sides, kissing down your chest to lavish the other breast with the same attention. 

his hips twitched involuntarily, grinding against your clothed cunt, making you gasp and shudder. 

the second peter felt your gasp and the way your body shuddered and writhed beneath him his control wavered. that grind against you had been accidental… but the effect? it was enough to make him lose all sense of restraint then and there.

his hips did it again. this time a deliberate, slow roll of his pelvis into yours. the friction through both layers of clothing was maddening… but so good.

a low, desperate noise escaped him this time. a whimper from deep in his throat. 

the friction was killing peter.

every slight movement of his hips against your core sent sparks through his nerves; sharp, intense pleasure that made him dizzy.

he did it again, and again, and again.

the grinding started off slow and teasing, but grew bolder with each second. each time he pressed down, you gasped. the sound drove the monster inside him wild.

his hands gripped your waist tighter as he leaned in to kiss you again, messy, hungry lips crashing together. 

it wasn’t long before peter broke the kiss, breathing heavily. he was very impatient now. in one swift motion, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your pants.

he pulled the fabric down, yanking your pants down your legs. they slid off easily, kicked to the side without a second thought. his eyes hover over the wet spot that had formed right above your core.

a sight that made him lick his lips. a smirk tugged at his mouth.

“i haven’t even started yet, and you’re already this wet.”

he practically purred, sending a shiver through you at his tone. the sound of peter’s voice… low, velvety, taunting you.

it was a new side to him you’d never seen. not the sweet guy you knew.

this was something darker. a side of him unleashed by whatever was inside him—and by how badly he wanted you right now.

then, without warning he dipped his head down, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss right over your soaked panties. 

“peter—!” you exclaimed, face flushing a deep scarlet, embarrassment in your tone.

the way you said his name in that flustered tone made his senses tingle in a twisted satisfaction.

he loved it. he loved how easily he could fluster you. your reaction only made him grin wider against your skin.

peter met your eyes, the lust in his gaze making your nerves tingle. he kept eye contact with you as he tilted his head to look up at you, his tongue darting out to drag a long, slow, deliberate line right over the fabric covering your now soaked core.

the sensation was overwhelming, your body squirming under him. his tongue continued its movements, licking up and down like he was tasting something delicious. and from the low hum that kept rumbling in his throat? he was enjoying this.

every single moment of it. he loved it.

“fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

his voice comes out rough and husky, completely different from his usual soft tone. he brushed his nose against your underwear, that wet spot glistening from his saliva mixed with your arousal.

without warning he hooked his teeth into the lace edge of your underwear and pulled. the fabric strained… then slowly slid down your hips.

as your panties slipped down your thighs, he looked up at you. those black eyes were filthy with want. his teeth hold onto your underwear, his mouth parting to release the fabric. it falls to the floor with a soft thud. peter leans close, his breath ghosting over your bare skin. 

“i’ve been thinking about this… for weeks.”

his voice is low, filled with devotion and desire. his hand hooks under your thigh, lifting it slowly as his lips press a kiss to your inner thigh. 

“been thinking about how you’d taste.”

another kiss.

“wondering what pretty sounds i’d draw out of you.”

another kiss. higher this time.

peter’s voice was a velvet whisper. soft, yet laced with an edge to it that made you feel dizzy. each kiss sent sparks through your body.

“how you’d feel,” he murmured between kisses.

another press of his lips, so close to where you wanted him.

“how much i’d love hearing you fall apart for me.”

his breath fanned over your bare core, drawing out a strained whimper from you.

“peter,” you finally choked out, desperation in your tone.

the desperation in your voice nearly sent him into sensory overload again. it took everything in him not to lose his mind and take you right then and there. but he wanted to see just how you wanted him. how much you needed him.

he doesn’t wait anymore. he lowers his head, right above where your clit is. the bud is swollen from how turned on you were. he blew air onto it, the sensation alone enough to make a needy whine fall from your lips.

he lowered his mouth—and licked. one long, slow stroke right over your swollen clit. his tongue was warm, wet, perfect.

the sensation hit you like lightning, a sharp jolt of pleasure that made your back arch off the bed and a low moan rip from your throat.

the moan you let out sent a thrill through peter. he relished in how responsive you were, how your body reacted to every movement of his tongue. it sent electricity up his spine, a feral grin forming on his lips.

“good girl, taking what i give you,” he praises. “you taste divine. so gorgeous. can’t believe i get to have you all to myself like this.”

his voice lowers, turning huskier as that obsessive tone slips back in, the roughness of it making you nearly come undone right there.

another long lick in the same spot, but firmer this time. a deliberate drag from side to side over your clit before circling back.

then… he sucked. gently at first.

the soft suction of his lips closing around your clit sent a shockwave through you, your hips jerking up instinctively as the overwhelming sensation was so much you nearly cried out.

the warm, wet pressure you were feeling made your toes curl and your fingers fist the sheets. peter hummed against you, a vibration that sent an entirely new wave of pleasure rippling through your core.

it was too much, ragged breaths escaping you as peter continued to suck and lick at your clit, his pace starting to pick up. your hips bucked up again, your legs attempting to push away from him—but peter’s hands kept a firm grip on your thighs, pushing them further apart. he kept you open, exposed. helpless under his mouth.

“not so fast, baby,” he mutters gruffly. “i didn’t give you permission to leave.”

peter didn’t stop his movements. he slid a hand lower, one finger teasing your entrance. his finger slid over the folds, wet slick pooling out from how turned on you were. it made it easy for his finger to glide over your wetness. 

he pushed his finger inside, testing how you felt around him. 

the stretch was subtle, but the sensation of your walls instantly clenching around him was everything.

peter curled his finger slightly inside you, searching until he found that sweet spot deep within, at the same time sucking on your clit with soft pulses of his lips. you were falling apart, becoming putty in his hands. your back arches off the bed, your head falling back against the pillows as you whimpered and moaned nonstop.

when he added a second finger—slowly stretching you further—you began to mewl uncontrollably. you’d never felt anything so intense like this before.

peter’s pace became relentless, finding that sweet spot again and again, pressing against it rhythmically. he crooked both fingers, thrusting inside you at a quicker pace now while his tongue still danced over the overly sensitive bud, your breaths turning into full blown moans as your vision became so hazy you were seeing stars. 

his tongue flicked, fingers curled, sucking gently between licks. every move was coordinated. a symphony of pleasure designed to unravel you.

“peter, i’m—! getting close, mmh… feels so good—!” your words fall out in a string of broken gasps and unintelligible noises. 

peter’s ears perked up at your breathless words. soft, beautiful, and desperate. 

“close already?” he murmured against you, his voice low with a twisted satisfaction seeing how much of a mess you’ve become.

he didn’t slow down or stop. instead, he increased his pace. his fingers picked up speed inside you—quicker thrusts now—and his tongue worked you faster, licks turning into quick flicks followed by soft sucks in rhythm with every pulse of pleasure that sent lightning through your overstimulated nerves.

he wanted to push you over the edge.

you stammered, your mind clouded in intense pleasure, a knot forming in your lower belly. your words fell out of your mouth in a jumbled mess of moans and whimpers, only fueling peter’s determination.

when he felt your thighs start trembling around his head—the first real sign of an orgasm building? peter smirked.

“that’s it… come on. come for me, baby.”

the moment peter spoke those words in that low, cocky tone, the coil tightening inside you snapped. a wave of white-hot pleasure crashed over you. your back arched off the bed, hands fisting the sheets as a loud, unrestrained cry tore from your lips, your orgasm ripping through every nerve in your body. 

peter didn’t stop his licking, instead softening his touch now. he attempted to draw out every last remaining shred of pleasure from you that he could as you rode the wave. your thighs trembled from the ecstasy that flooded your nerves, the overstimulation nearly bringing you to tears. he drank it all in, his face finally lifting from between your thighs when you collapsed against the pillows.

watching you fall apart was better than anything he could’ve ever imagined.

peter’s lips glistened with your juices, cheeks flushed, eyes dark with satisfaction.

he stared at you. 

in that moment he knew then that he’d never be able to let you go. only he could draw those noises out of you, make you feel this way. no one else knew how your body responded. only him. 

the creature inside of peter was rampant, the hunger he felt only turning more ravenous. it was prowling like a predator, its sights set on you. the one it had chosen as its mate.

your chest rose and fell rapidly. your skin was damp with sweat, hair stuck to your forehead. and that beautiful dazed look on your face… you were wrecked. he was utterly obsessed. 

it was the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen.

without a word, still breathing heavily from what he’d just done, peter made his way back up to your upper body.

kissing every inch of skin along the way.

peter’s body was screaming for release. he hadn’t touched himself. he was too focused on making you come undone. but now?

he was painfully hard, to the point it ached.

your gaze flickered down to the tent in his pants. he was still hard, the rut not yet over. it couldn’t end until he had his release too.

and his body was screaming for it. 

peter shifted beside you, his body tense as he braced his arms over you, caging you underneath him as his breathing turned deeper. his hand, rough with callouses, took yours into it. he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your palm, licking the skin afterwards. his black eyes gazed at you without breaking contact.

your eyes flickered back up to his. peter met your gaze, those hazel eyes now flickering with something deeper. the aching hunger in his gut still yet to be satisfied. he didn’t say anything, but you could see the desire in his eyes.

with your hand still held in his, you crawl over to him, maneuvering your legs to straddle his hips. his hands absentmindedly moved up to grab your waist. peter watched your every movement, a low hum rumbling in his chest when you settled over him. beneath you, his erection pressed against you through his sweatpants. his jaw clenched. he could feel the monster going crazy inside him, and his eyes flickered between hazel and black again. 

the heat of your wet core pressed right against the hardened tip of his cock still trapped in his boxers sent a shockwave through his every nerve. 

his eyes shifted into that inky black once again—the creature roaring to life at having you this close, ready for him.

“let me help you now,” you murmur, voice hoarse.

that sent a thrill through peter.

his hand shot up to grip the back of your neck, pulling you down into a hard kiss. without breaking the kiss his other hand slid down your back, gripping your hip before guiding you even closer to him, a soft sigh escaping you.

he deepened the kiss, swallowing your sigh into his mouth as he rolled his hips up into yours, grinding slowly but intensely against you. your lips parted into a gasp, giving him the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, hot and demanding.

“wanna be inside you—so bad—it hurts,” peter mutters in between kisses, filling your belly with that heat, legs clenching at the image he put in your head.

your eyes filled with lust now, your hips absentmindedly grinding into his now. peter’s control was on a thin line now, on the verge of snapping as he grunted roughly.

that slow grind of his hips against yours sent sparks through both of you. the friction maddening even through the fabric of his pants separating you both. he moaned into the kiss, a deep vibrating sound from his chest and rolled his hips up again… harder this time.

he broke the kiss, trailing kisses along your jaw and nipping at your skin. you took the chance to hook your hands on the hem of his shirt. peter pulled back, raising his arms to allow you to undress him, his black eyes watching your movements with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

his shirt is now discarded, the material landing on the floor. he’s bare chested now, your eyes wandering appreciatively over his toned body, his chest rising fast with each breath. the lean muscles pulled over his skin were built with years of training and hard work. 

peter stayed perfectly still under your gaze—letting you admire.

the years of swinging through the city, fighting villains, pushing his body to the limit showed in every defined line. his chest. his arms. his biceps. the abs that flexed slightly as he breathed. 

this man was absolutely beautiful. you were in complete awe of him.

though he looked calm, the creature was restless inside him, that ravenous hunger only intensifying with each passing second. 

those black eyes traced your face, the way your eyes lingered on him—and a faint smirk tugged at his lips.

without breaking eye contact, you reached for the waistband of peter’s sweatpants. the material was soaked right in the center where his cock was. the sight made your eyes lid, that familiar heat pulsating in your lower belly once again.

you wanted this man. badly.

peter’s breath hitches when your fingers brush against his hips.

you hooked your thumbs into the fabric and slowly started to push them down… revealing more skin inch by inch.

peter lifted his hips just enough to help you slide them off completely along with his boxers, kicking them aside when they reached his ankles.  

he was now fully bare to you. and hard.

so painfully hard; his cock thick and heavy, already fully erect from the rut’s feverish need. the tip, pink and veiny, glistened slightly in the dim light. peter’s cock twitched at your gaze, drops of precum slid down the hard length, dripping onto his veins. it looked so sensitive. so ready.

he didn’t move to cover himself. he wasn’t shy about it. he let you look. he laid there, those black eyes drinking you in.

then… he reached for your hips again.

peter’s hands slid up your hips, warm calloused palms gliding over your skin. he pulled you closer until you were straddling him properly again, his bare body now flush against yours. 

his cock pressed against your lower stomach, a thick heavy weight that made you shudder. he exhaled sharply through his nose at the contact, the heat in his body intensifying again. 

the creature was screaming now: touch her more. take her.

peter’s lips hovered over yours, ragged breaths escaping him as he felt your heat and scent enveloping his senses, sending him into override. but the caring, humane side of him held back. 

he didn’t want to hurt you. trying to be romantic even now.

until your soft whisper caused him to still.

“you don’t have to hold back, peter. i’m right here.”

for a second, he didn’t move. just stared into your eyes. when he didn’t find any hesitation his restraint snapped.

finally, the creature and man became one.

his hands moved to your hips, his grip rough. no gentleness left, just urgency.

“hips up, baby.”

peter’s voice this time was the deepest it had been, the rut taking over him completely. when he growled those words it made you shudder. his hands moved to guide you into position, lifting your hips slightly off the bed so he could align himself with you.

the second the head of his cock brushed your entrance—wet and warm—peter’s whole body shuddered.

a raw moan tore from his throat, his head falling back as pleasure surged through every nerve in his body, the sensation intensified tenfold from his rut. it was enough to nearly bring him to tears.

“god, you feel so—“ his voice cracked. he couldn’t even finish the sentence.

your breath hitched as you felt him right there. right at your entrance, pressing just slightly without pushing in yet. 

it was overwhelming. the heat, the tension.

when peter moaned like that—a raw, shuddering sound of pure awe—you clenched around nothing, already sensitive from how much you wanted him.

you lifted your hips higher on instinct, silently begging for more.

he felt your silent plea, the way you lifted your hips higher, offering yourself to him, and it shattered what little control he had left.

with a low groan, he gripped your thighs tighter and slowly, but firmly, began to push inside. just the tip at first… then an inch. 

peter’s cock stretched you with every inch—warm, thick, making you feel so full. you were trembling, soft whimpers escaping you as the pleasure was already overstimulating your senses. he was going so deliberately slow it was almost painful.

he worked himself deeper, watching your face carefully. his dark eyes searched for any sign of pain, but only saw pleasure. your own need.

peter’s lips curled into a cocky smirk.

the creature preened at the sight of your pleasure, the way your breath hitched when he filled you inch by inch.

he pushed deeper until his hips met yours fully—finally seated to the hilt. the moment he was completely inside you his eyes fluttered shut, jaw clenching. it was too much, too good. the sensation of your walls instantly clenching around him, already trying to milk his cock nearly made him combust right then. his chest rose and fell rapidly as low grunts escaped him.

his eyes open again, flickering to yours. you could see the lust and need in them.

“please fuck me, peter,” you pleaded, desperation in your tone. you needed him carnally, your voice trembling.

something inside him snapped at your sweet plea.

his hips jerked forward, thrusting up into you with sharp, powerful thrusts. his hands grabbed your wrists, pinning them behind your back as he used every ounce of strength in his body to give you exactly what your body craved. each snap of his hips came with a low groan from deep in his chest, the pleasure flooding his senses consuming his entire being. he needed more, more, more.

peter was lost in it—completely consumed by the rhythm, the heat, you.

his thrusts grew faster. harder.

each snap of his hips drove him deeper—your body taking every inch like it was made for him. the thought made him grin ferally, that possessive feeling taking hold of him. 

with your wrists pinned behind your back, he had full control… and used it to angle himself just right so each grind of his hips into yours hit that perfect spot inside you.

peter’s eyes locked onto the sight above him; your breasts bouncing with every powerful thrust, the visible outline of his cock gliding in and out of you stretching your stomach slightly as he moved inside you.

it was hypnotic.

and your moan? loud and unfiltered. the cries and screams of pleasure escaping your lips like a symphony for his ears.

each cry pushed him closer to the edge. the creature inside him roaring in satisfaction at how beautifully you were falling apart above him, how good you were taking him.

he leaned his head down suddenly to take one of your nipples between his teeth, a gentle but firm bite followed by a hot lick. claiming another part of you while his cock drove into your core without mercy. the bed rocked beneath them, each snap of peter’s hips making the bed frame slam against the wall in a rhythmic beat.

thump, thump, thump.

every movement was synchronized, his cock thrusting so deep into you it was practically kissing your cervix, his lips claiming your skin. his hands still keeping yours pinned as he took you, completely consumed by rut and need and you. 

“i love you, i love you s’much, you feel so— so fucking good—“

peter’s voice was raw, desperate, reverent. his words spilled between each thrust like a prayer.

over and over. not sweetly, not softly. with passion, with devotion that burned hotter than the rut itself.

every time he said it? he kissed your lips again—harder this time—trying to pour every ounce of his undying love for you into the kiss while still driving into your body without stopping.

peter was lost in his lust and love for you, his hips pistoning in you with raw, desperate need.

he could feel it, the coil inside him tightening, the pressure of his pending orgasm building with every thrust. he was so damn close. he could sense your body tightening, your breathing coming faster. you were close too. 

but right now he felt a primal urge to really feel how his body connected with yours.

with a slow roll, peter shifted positions—bringing you with him until both of you were lying on your sides. his cock stayed buried inside as he curled around your back, spooning you from behind. he kept thrusting slowly but deeply, the new position allowing him to push even further into you, your moans only fueling him on.

peter wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest as he kissed the side of your neck, soft bites and licks between thrusts.

his hand slid down from your waist, his palm flattening gently against your lower belly—right where the faint outline of his cock pressed beneath your skin. 

the second peter’s hand pressed down on your belly, feeling the soft bulge you gasped. the sensation shot through you like lightning. 

“oh my god, peter—!“

he could feel himself through you.

the bulge. the movement with every thrust. how deep he was inside of you.

“hold on just a little longer for me. can you do that, baby?” he coos at you, that cocky undertone slipping into his voice.

his fingers splayed slightly, thumb pressing against the skin where his cock poked out. he felt you jolt against him, drawing a sigh from him as he buried his face between your shoulder blades, kissing your back as his thrusts began to turn erratic and sloppy. he was nearing his peak.

only an incoherent whimper escapes you as the sensation of everything, his thumb pressed possessively against your stomach paired with his kisses against your back overloaded your senses and rendering you unable to speak. your eyes watered with tears of overstimulation, your breathing ragged.

peter’s breathing mirrored yours, each kiss against your spine growing messier, less controlled. his thrusts lost their rhythm, the deep grinding rolls of his hips giving way to short snaps—like he couldn’t stop himself anymore.

he was there on the edge.

and every jolt you made beneath him, the way your body tightened around him when he hit that spot pushed him closer and closer to the brink.

“peter, i—i’m so close,” you choke out, violent shudders overtaking you as you feel the coil in your belly about to snap.

he heard the tremor in your voice. the way it cracked with need. even though he was still riding his own high, every instinct kicked in.

he knew. you were right there.

so without a word, peter wrapped both arms around you tighter to pull you even closer, his lips finding your neck as his hips sloppily snapped against yours to keep the friction going. 

then, he whispered against your skin: “come for me, baby.”

peter’s low, commanding voice sent you over the edge. 

the coil in your belly snapped.

a cry tore from your throat as the pleasure exploded through every nerve in your body—white-hot and electric. your walls clenched around peter instinctively, pulsing with each wave of your climax, sucking him in to milk every last drop of that delicious ecstasy that sent your eyes rolling back.

he felt every shiver of yours, every gasp that escaped. it was beautiful to him. he held on tight, keeping you cradled against him as you rode it out.

peter was trembling, fighting it. the rut screamed for release, but peter wasn’t reckless. not without your permission.

his breath came in ragged pants against your neck, hips stuttering as his pleasure built to an unbearable peak.

“y/n, c-can i…? please, i’m so close—“

his voice shook, so desperately raw with need that your heart clenched. the rut had stripped him bare… and he needed you.

“yes, peter.”

the second you said yes, he lost it.

his hips snapped forward once and he finally came—hard. peter’s release was intense, every pulse deep and powerful.

the sensation was overwhelming for both of you.

thick ropes of cum painted your insides, warmth spreading into you with every spurt. peter’s body seemed to drain itself, his cock twitching inside you even as the intensity of his high faded. his orgasm lasted longer than normal—a result of his rut building up from him holding himself back for days. 

through it all, peter clung to you. his forehead fell against your shoulder, his arms locked tightly around your waist as he emptied himself completely inside you, shuddering each time a new wave hit.

you could feel peter’s heartbeat slow down, his body leaning against you as the exhaustion hit him. you looked up at him over your shoulder, the darkness in his eyes slowly fading away, replaced with the hazel-brown eyes you’ve come to adore.

he nuzzled into your shoulder slightly, pressing a soft, drowsy kiss there before resting his cheek against you. 

no words, just the quiet intimacy of your bodies tangled together, basking in the afterglow.

you feel him slowly pull out of you, a tinge of disappointment filling you at the feeling of being empty now. but you push it down, slowly turn in his arms to face him, his eyes flickering up to meet yours. 

you lift a hand up to cup his cheek, your thumb rubbing against his skin affectionately. you smile softly at him, adoration in your gaze.

“you okay now?” you softly whisper.

he melted into your touch, closing his eyes for a brief moment as your thumb stroked his cheek. the warmth, the care in that simple gesture made a content sigh escape him.

his eyes fluttered open again, gazing at you tenderly. he nodded gently, grinning shyly at you.

there he was. the sweet, gentle peter you knew.

the peter you loved—the kind, soft-hearted boy with his gentle awkward smile—was back.

just peter. your peter.

he lifted a hand up to mirror you, his hand cupping your cheek. he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your temple. it was so soft it made you smile softly.

peter reached for your hand. he brought your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly. the gesture melted you, your eyes softening. it was so intimate compared to the intensity he exuded only moments ago it made your heart squeeze.

no words needed to be said. you both bonded over the intimacy that had fallen over you, the soft hazel hue in peter’s eyes returning. no creature influencing his actions. just him. 

sweet peter parker. gentle and loving and completely yours. 

“are you okay?” he repeats your question quietly, checking on you as well. you detect his worry underneath it, understanding the intention behind his question.

“i’m okay, love.” the pet name slips from your lips before you can stop it, but it feels… natural.

it feels right to you.

peter blushed when he heard you call him in that term of endearment that could only mean one thing: that you held a deep affection for him. that realization made him nearly turn into a puddle right then and there.

he kissed your knuckles again, then each finger before pressing a kiss to your palm. his touch was slow now. reverent.

he focuses his gaze on you then, lowering your hand. he rubs his thumb over your knuckles, quieting as his eyes grow pensive.

“i’m sorry.”

his voice was quiet. his thumbs continued tracing your knuckles gently, like he needed to ground himself. 

“about what?” you murmur quietly.

peter’s eyebrows knit before he looks at you, guilt in his eyes. 

“i haven’t… been honest with you.” 

his eyes flicker to the spider-man suit draped on his couch across the room. you follow his gaze, his sudden apology making sense now.

“i’m sorry for not telling you. i just—“ he cuts himself off, exhaling sharply. 

you stare at the suit for a moment, everything falling into place. the secretiveness from time to time, how weirdly intense things have been lately. how he coincidentally had to go when criminal activity was reported to be seen.

your eyes flickered back to his. he looked terrified now—like he’d messed up beyond repair. like your trust was hanging by a thread because of his lies.

your heart ached for him. the fear in his eyes as if he expected you to hate him made your stomach twist. 

“then i drag you into this—making you help me, and i feel like i used you—“

you cup his face with both of your hands this time, shushing him.

“peter. peter, stop.”

your hands framing his face made the words on peter’s tongue die instantly. he stilled completely, your touch rendering his rambling to silence. stopping him from spiraling further. he stared at you with wide eyes.

instead of saying anything else, you leaned in slowly to press a soft, tender kiss to his lips. filled with pure love and affection.

it lasted only a second before you pulled back, your thumb brushing his cheek.

“you didn’t make me help you. i chose to,” you began quietly.

his eyes begin to fill with tears as he hangs on to your every word, listening intently.

“i do wish you’d have told me sooner,” you continue, “but i get why you didn’t. i want you to listen to me, peter. you’re not a burden. it’s okay to ask for help.” 

you pause.

“i love you, peter parker. all of you. your dark side and your good side. i don’t love you for the suit, or because you’re the city’s hero. i love the sweet guy that could make me laugh with his stupid jokes, the guy that made it easy to end off a long evening shift with a smile on my face.”

he looks at you for a long moment, his glassy eyes softening.

“you… love me?” the questions falls from his lips softly.

you smile.

“yes, silly. i love you.”

you say nothing for a moment, your eyes tracing over his features. your thumbs caress his skin, your heart aching in love for him. you loved this man so much it permeated into your entire being. you loved him so much it hurt.

he’s the masked hero the city had come to depend on. the man that risked his life every single day to ensure the citizens lived in safety, giving them someone to look up to. because he cared. and that was so peter it made you unable to fight a smile, your own eyes becoming watery with your emotions tugging at your heart. you didn’t feel an ounce of anger whatsoever towards him.

only love. love so strong you felt it would consume you from how deep it ran.

“how can i not love you?”

your voice comes out so soft peter almost misses what you said. but he had heard it.

his lips part, but nothing comes out.

his eyes grow even glassier, and he quickly looks away, blinking hard as a tear finally slips down his cheek.

you reach up, gently wiping it away.

“peter…”

“i just—“ he lets out a shaky laugh, shaking his head. 

his voice breaks.

“i didn’t think someone could know all of this about me and still say that.”

your expression softens.

“you’re not a monster, peter.”

he looks back at you.

“you’ve seen what i can become.”

you look at him, your eyes flickering away for a moment before catching his eyes again.

“i know. but a monster wouldn’t be this terrified of hurting someone.”

peter swallows hard.

“but i wanted to keep you here. i was thinking things i shouldn’t be thinking.”

you take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. you mirror his actions from before, lifting his hand to your lips to press soft kisses across his knuckles.

“not once did i feel scared of you, peter. i love you. every part of you.”

peter blinked at you, completely speechless. he looks down at your intertwined hands, letting out a shaky breath. his shoulders relaxed.

you accepted him. completely.

his heart soared in his chest. it was beyond what he could’ve asked for. for so long, peter lived with the fear that he’d scare you off if you saw everything beneath the mask—his altered dna, the darkness he couldn’t always control, the monster that had awakened inside of him. he was afraid you’d look at him differently.

but you hadn’t. you saw him—the real him—and still stayed. 

it made him love you even more.

a small, disbelieving smile tugged at his lips.

“come here,” he opened his arms, an invitation for you.

you happily accepted, letting him pull you into his arms. he held you against his chest, burying his face in your hair to inhale your scent.

you felt his breath shudder against you.

“thank you,” he murmured.

you smiled, wrapping your arms around him.

“you don’t have to thank me for loving you.”

peter pulled back just enough to look at you.  a light pink dusted his cheeks, a shy smile forming on his lips.

“i think i’m going to need some time to get used to that.”

you laughed softly.

“i’ll just have to keep reminding you.”

his smile widened.

“deal.”

he leaned forward, pressing one final tender kiss to your forehead before resting his against yours.

“i love you,” he murmured.

“i love you too.”

you squeeze his hand, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips.

“actually… i have a question.”

peter pulls back to look at you again, his eyes narrowing.

“that tone usually means trouble.”

you lean a little closer.

“so, this dark side of yours…”

his eyebrows lift. 

“what about it?”

“does it come with any other… interesting side effects?”

peter freezes, caught off guard by your suggestive question. his eyes widen as realization dawns.

“y/n.”

you grin. “what?”

a blush spreads across his cheeks.

“you cannot just ask me that after i spent the last half an hour having an emotional breakdown.”

you laughed, moving closer to lay on his chest, his arm naturally moving to rest across your back.

“why not? i’m curious.”

peter shakes his head, though the smile tugging at his lips betrays him.

“you’re trouble.”

“perhaps.”

you lean closer, your lips ghosting over his. you whisper with a mischievous smile:

“well… why don’t we have another round and find out?”

peter goes completely still. for a moment, he simply stares at you.

then his eyes flicker. 

hazel. 

black. 

hazel again.

a slow, almost wicked smile spreads across his face.

“oh,” he murmurs. “so that’s what you meant.”

you laugh softly as his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer. 

“you realize,” he whispers, his eyes flickering black once more, “you’re possibly the worst possible person to give the monster inside me encouragement.”

“is that a complaint?”

peter’s grin widens.

“not in the slightest.”

he leans in, his lips brushing yours.

“just don’t blame me when you get exactly what you ask for.”

Riding Sylus is a daunting task. Everything about him is large and impressive. His cock is no different.

“God…” You’ve barely sunk down an inch and you need a break, resting your head on his shoulder. He rubs your back soothingly, the heat of him making you near dizzy.

“You’re doing so good.” He praises you, his gaze soft as he studies your pinched expression. He doesn’t offer to take over just yet. You’d insisted on this after all.

“You…your cock is so big.” You murmur, moving to sink down a bit more. His grip on your waist tightens, his jaw clenched. Sylus won't admit it, but you're practically torturing him with this pace.

"You can take it sweetie. Such a good girl." The adoration in his voice makes you clench, finally sinking down on his length. You both moan in tandem, your nails digging into the muscle of his arms.

"Knew you could do it." He smirks, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips as you blink away the stars from your vision. He's so deep like this, so deep you can almost feel him in your throat.

Now you just need to move.

"C-could you help me a little?" You mumble the request, almost embarrassed. For once, Sylus doesn't tease you. Perhaps because he's just as desperate as you are.

The moment his hips jerk up into yours, you moan. He sets a steady pace, not fast or slow, just deep. Your eyes roll back as he pounds up into you. It's almost immediate, how quick your orgasm builds.

"S-Sylus oh my god!" You gasp, working your hips against his. You lean in to connect your lips to his, mostly to hold off from cumming so soon. It's a desperate, sloppy kiss, and it apparently has the opposite effect for Sylus.

"Fuck..." His head falls back, brows knit in pleasure as his cum fills you, spilling out and making an even bigger mess between your thighs. You slow your movements, eyes wide.

you've always been careful about how you spend your money. sylus notices this, and to counteract it, he spends his money on you like there's no tomorrow.

when you're out shopping, he'll insist you enter stores you'd never consider yourself because of the price. sylus is ever so patient when you try on dress after dress, and when you can't choose which ones you like the most, he tells the salesperson to wrap them all.

"i'll see you in the red one for dinner," he'll say, swiping his card without so much a glance at the screen. the price is more than your last paycheck.

sylus will deliver things to your apartment. they'll somehow end up on your kitchen island, and he'll call you right as you get home.

"what did you buy this time?" you'll ask him.

sometimes it'll be a pair of shoes you've been eyeing or new gear you've been putting off buying. when you ask how he could've possibly known what you needed, sylus will chuckle, his voice deep and amused over the phone.

"i have my ways," he tells you.

what you don't know is how he religiously monitors the posts you like online... and maybe what you search. irrelevant details. after all, everything is fair game when it comes to providing for his girl, right?

when you do tell sylus you want something, usually food, he navigates to the most expensive places. you want a sweet treat? it's a high-end bakery, and he buys one of each thing for you to try. craving a good meal? you end up in places that have a month-long waiting list. out for drinks? sylus waves his hand and another round appears before you have the chance to finish what's in your hand.

sylus finds it amusing when you tell him to stop. he towers over you, standing around in the living room as you ramble on about being able to afford your own things while sitting on his couch. it's cute, really.

he cuts you off, "oh, kitten."

you look up at him, hands mid-gesture trying to prove your point.

"what?"

"you have no idea how much i hold back."

જ⁀➴ ✉︎ author's note: terrorized by a giant bug while writing this

જ⁀➴ ✉︎ want to be notified for new deliveries? join a taglist!

જ⁀➴ ✉︎ tags: @xvsxliaaxx @rockettwo

Sleepy sex with Sylus in the middle of the night. You wake up warm all over, assuming it’s because of the literal furnace of a man beside you only to discover it’s him but even better. Sylus is having a wet dream, brows pinched and jaw slack as his chest heaves in an unsteady rhythm. One you recognize all too well, the only other dead giveaway is the visible bulge in the sheets over his groin.

You watch him for a little bit, memorize the way his face twitches and his hips roll up against the bedding. Searching for relief, searching for you. His own subconscious trying to recreate the physical pleasure his mind is conjuring. It makes your stomach flutter, heat surging straight between your thighs as you wonder what he could be dreaming about. What he could possibly be doing to you in his dreams, or what you could be doing to him. Either way, he looks so adorable and needy.

Not able to contain yourself, nor let him suffer for much longer. So you snuggle in closer, running your hand down the planes of his stomach and under the waistband of his boxers to wrap around his hard on. Gasping with him as he bucks into your hold, your nose nuzzling his pulse. Jerking him slowly while kissing on his neck, muttering sweet nothings as you try so carefully not to wake him.

It’s no use, Sylus is too sharp even in sleep. Just as he’s about to cum, those crimson eyes flutter open and a hand shoots over the covers to stop you. “Wait…” thick and groggy, you can feel your panties stick to your cunt as you squirm, peering up at him in the dark. “… I need to cum inside of you. It’s the only way.” You could die happy.

That’s how you end up cradled in his arms, faces nuzzling the other, cock buried so deep inside of your warmth it’s hard to decipher where one begins and the other ends. Sylus somehow has staved off his orgasm in favor of rocking slowly, letting the pleasure melt his mind and body into the mattress. Letting it consume him, letting you consume him in his entirety. Everything he has to offer.

Fem!reader teasing Doppo until he goes into his 'berserk' mode

Ahhh Doppo and his wild side.. Love to see him as a bottom but sometimes.. 🤭🤭

femreader, teasing, begging, masturbation (giving), humping;; 1226 words;;

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

;MINORS DNI;

Kannonzaka Doppo:

🌻sweet pea: are they big on cuddling? what is their favorite position to cuddle their s/o in?

Cuddling absolutely beats the fetal position Doppo finds himself in when it’s time for bed and he has to face the daunting reality of repeating the same miserable schedule again the next day. Sometimes, he thought he was just dreaming that he had a lover, your scent filling his nose when he fell asleep next to you and led him into the sweetest dreams he’s ever had. He sometimes convinces himself in the dream world that it was blending with reality, that you weren’t real and he’d wake up to an empty bed with an even emptier heart because everything felt so real. It was a big relief waking up to still being in your arms, settling himself down as the anxiety settled down enough for him to fall back asleep.

abstract. in which streamer! satoru tries to ask you, streamer! yn, out amongst the chaos during sukuna’s 'streaming games' event | straight up fluff • 2k wc

aniyaps. thank you guys so much for the love on my mini streamer! satoru series! it means so much and i hope this works as a finale to it / happy 2k to this account <3

— art by to00fu <3 | original drabble | #unedited

When Satoru had agreed to take part in Sukuna’s strange idea to hold a “Streaming Games”, he thought it was stupid. absolutely stupid. Like The Starving Games (not trying to get copyrighted) but streaming. May the Universe be on your Side or whatnot… Except this case, the internet.

For one, Satoru and Sukuna were Twitch’s top two streamers, constantly feigning for that top place, so the fact that Sukuna (or as he’s known online as m4levolent_) would ask him to be apart of it, as a “Proctor”, confused him. Anything for that clout, right?

“So how many of us are gonna be there?” Sukuna shrugged while on discord call, playing some Steam game he’d got on sale.

“Quite a lot, dumbass… I was thinking Suguru, Nanami, Y/N—” “Okay. I’ll do it.”

"Sure ya will, fucking loser."

But of course, when Satoru had heard about you, his totally not obvious streamer crush, potentially joining… Well he unfortunately had to bite the bullet and agree.

abstract: your boyfriend just does things that makes your heart flutter and your panties dampen <3

ft. rafayel, sylus, zayne, xavier, caleb

cw: insp by the tiktok trend ; fluff + smut; body worship, somno, riding, fingering | [implied short reader with caleb + chubby reader w/ rafayel; implied yandere! caleb] - unedited <3

⊹ ࣪ ˖ rafayel qi ; the way he’s so clingy

whenever rafayel manages to get some time with you, of course he's going to be clingy. his arms are going to be glued around your plush tummy for the whole time he's lounging around with you. his head resting on your shoulder while doing any task with you in front of him. even when he paints, he'd have you sitting between his legs or on his lap, one hand caressing and rubbing circles on your love handles or plush thighs, while the other focuses on the canvas in front of him.

but of course, his clinginess isn't only limited outside the bedroom. and that alone, gets you so turned on.

"shh, don't run away. stay w'me..." he'd whine, an arm wrapped around your tummy and only tightening the more you arched your back away from him. it was tortuous—absolutely insane. normally, he'd be sassy with it, still having a little bit of a joking tone, but when he's fucking you, holding your leg up while he bullies his cock inside you from the side, he turns so needy and clingy, and you fucking love it.

"so pretty... so gorgeous... c'mon, i like it when you're close to me..."

⊹ ࣪ ˖ sylus qin ; the way he moves you gently by your waist

even though you're at a stage in your relationship where you're comfortable with everything sylus does, you still find your heart beat faster every time sylus gently moves you by your waist to get you out of his way.

"move, sweetheart." he'd speak so smoothly while he just moves you so gently, so . of course you'd be acting all shy and flustered. but oh, even when you two have sex, his touches just hold so much weight.

he’d be sitting on one of his elaborate chairs, with you propped up on his lap grinding against his cock before he could ever be inside you. then, even when you try to sink down on him, sylus would have his hands on your hips, slowly pushing you down and helping while you cried out.

“don’t cry, pretty girl. shhh, don’t cry…” you’d be clinging onto him, arms wrapped around him while you could feel him fill you up—and not even being able to take all of him. you would be struggling, but of course, he’d help you. he'd angle his own hips, slightly slouch while keeping the hold on you firm while slowly slamming you onto him. and then when you choose to move your hips all sensually in figure-8s, his light touches would continue and he would rub circles on your skin—a contrast to how he'd move you.

"shit...yeah, sweetheart. keep moving those hips like that."

⊹ ࣪ ˖ zayne li ; the way he lifts his sleeves up + holds eye contact

you know that zayne gets busy as a doctor. but you can't help but just stare at he way he lifts his sleeves up whenever he has a demanding task. you really can't help but stare at the way his arms. the way that the veins on his forearms would be more evident every time he flexed without even knowing how that affected you.

"you know, some people try to be more subtle when they stare." he’d say something like that, because of course zayne pays attention to how you’d stare. he'd notice how you'd look away or how your expression would falter every time he held eye contact with you. you just got flustered over everything.

oh and it's especially even hotter when he enacts on his observations.

"so impatient for me, aren't you?"

he’d roll up his sleeves, crouching down while you’d sit on his desk, panties pulled down while he played with your pussy. he would be rubbing on your clit with one hand and thrusting his pretty fingers with the other; a slightly flustered expression would grace his face. but god, every time he did so, every time he would do that, he would look up at you and hold eye contact, wanting to see your cute little reactions as he ruined you on his desk.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ xavier shen ; the way his voice gets when he wakes up

there's something about the way that xavier's voice gets every time he wakes up beside you. maybe it's the way that it's much quieter and deeper than usual, or that hot vocal fry that adds onto his usually meek voice. he can get quite clingy, especially in the morning, but the way he says things when he barely wakes up—the way he speaks so gently, makes you so flustered.

"shh... just 3 more minutes. let me just hold you for a bit more." he'd snuggle up against you, muttering some weak pleas on how he doesn't want to get out of this position with you just yet. and same thing for morning sex…

“don’t wanna get out of this position…” he’d have you in pronebone, with his arms caging you and yours wrapped around his neck while he’d slowly fuck you, his body and weight pressed against you. the both of you would still be half asleep, clinging onto each other under the covers.

maybe if you were in a hurry, you’d yelp a little ‘we have to get up!’, but your pleas would fall upon deaf ears.

“mmm..not yet.”

⊹ ࣪ ˖ caleb xia ; the way he would condescendingly tease you

the nickname he's implaced upon you being 'pipsqueak' is teasing and condescending enough, but sometimes when he's feeling really sassy, caleb just keeps going with that. it's bad enough that he's taller than you, but he would just crouch down—a smile etched on his face and speak with a tone that was laced with playful malice.

"mhm? yeah? how nice." and of course, even with that dark tone and accompanying mocking smile, your heart just does a little leap in your chest; you can't help it, despite him doing so just to mess with you. something is too high up? he'd mess with you with a 'awh, can't reach up and get it?'

but when you have sex, that condescending tone gets worse; his teasing overall gets worse. "awh, pips. can't take it, huh? c'mon sweet girl... you can do it, can't you?"

even in the most basic position like missionary, it's hard to get away from whatever remarks he might make, but regardless, it was still hot. just the way he would slam into you, pressing your tummy bulge hard with his free hand while he held your hand with his other, tangling your fingers together.

oh god... he was mean. you would be crying and he’d have such a dark look on his face, relishing in the fact that he’s the only one to have you like this.

because he knows damn well you like that.

-

-

-

a/n: first lads post ever... what do we think...? (i'm so fucking scared i'm a baby lads fan i'm not that seasoned yet...)

summary: you stand alone near the water on a snowy night, ruminating over your existential dread and fear. sylus comes to comfort you through the blizzard in your heart.

tags: ~1.8k words, sfw, sylus x fem!reader, fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, established relationship, soft sylus, mentioned sexism/general despair at the state of the world, implied suicidal ideation, very self-indulgent, hopeful ending

enjoy!

Snow drifts down from the dark sky, the night's abyssal symphony and golden flecks of the city's skyline reflected in the water. Buildings shine and glimmer with warmth in the midst of the vast emptiness of the universe, the laughter and chatter of passersby echoing in the distance. Family, friends, lovers—all together, all small and insignificant like the hazy sparks shifting in the waves. Stars that will disappear once the universe meets its quiet end.

You stand alone in the snowy night, your forearms resting on the cool metal railing along the worn wooden pier. The cold soaks through your thin white sleeves, interweaving itself through the fabric, gossamer threads like icicles wrapping itself around your skin. Frigid wind glides through your hair like a comb carved from ice. You're underdressed for the weather in your hunter's uniform, chills shooting through your spine and cracking outwards into shivers with every frigid gust. You stretch out a hand out in front of you, tiny snowflakes drifting onto your gloved palm. You watch as they melt into nothingness once they land on the leather, mesmerized by their fleeting beauty. The tingling feeling of numbness creeps in from the tips of your fingers. Your hunter's gloves leave most of the skin on your hands exposed to the wintry night air, defenseless and aching.

"I didn't know kittens had a penchant for hibernating during the winter."

Masc Reader

Considering the fact that he has like two younger brothers already you guys would have to be the closest in age

Like if not the same age, one year apart

ABSOLUTELY DEVIOUS DUO

Now Ichiro in his younger TDD days was a fucking menace

Can you blame him tho his life was shitty

Depending on how you are as a person it’ll be two menaces roaming the streets

Talking hella shit on a daily basis

Just walking everywhere and anywhere

You guys are like this 🤞

He’s a smart guy and everything but,

He wasn’t so keen on attending all of the time

And by proxy neither did you(mostly)

Constantly getting dress coded for your less than model student-esk

Becoming reasonable and responsible young adults though you guys chill out

Helping out with his odd jobs, supporting his rap journey, etc etc.

No matter if you have a job of your own or if you’re a university student he’d support you all the way

He’s def matched outfits with you before

His fashion sense RANGES

He’ll have the most EXQUISITE fit you’ve ever seen on one day

And then dog shit on the next

Duality😍

Even when you are older and capable of taking care yourself he’ll still cook and take care of you like when you were children

What a mom.

Leaders…Hypmic

Jinguji…I believe that since he takes health so seriously(I mean he IS a doctor.) that his lips are soft not chapped at all. He applies chapstick/lip balm always; especially in cold season! He has a minty taste however if you get trapped in a drunk kiss with him he still has that soft texture but the amber taste of whatever concoction he has drank wafts through your senses like wildfire. He tends to not wear cologne so no usual scents. His skin is quite smooth as well, bar his hands that can get dry easily as he washes his hands often and uses sanitizers. His voice is deep and resonant..very pleasant to hear and could put you to sleep. Always willing to hold you during slumber, a warm embrace.

Amemura…sweet. His lips aren’t quite as smooth as Jakurai however they are smoother than Samatoki. Slightly chapped. When leaning in you can smell the sugary sweetness of the treat he had just consumed. Pressing against him you can better get a taste for a faint trace of a cigarette. Uses a lot of scented products..Dove? Sweet and citrusy are his main scents. His hands are quite soft and appealing to hold. His voice can be irritating in his high pitched front, though his natural tone is quite smooth and tolerable.

Harai…Another with slightly chapped lips. He is average. He often reeks of incenses lit in the temples and tea. It’s not a bad scent by any means! A very clean taste. Despite his appearance there is no trace of cigarette when leaning in for a peck but rather the mint of his toothpaste. Very aromatic. His skin is normal as well. A natural texture that is tolerable for hand holding. His voice is unique in its originality. A pleasant upbeat tone that will keep you up and active.

Aohitsugi…oh my days. His lips are quite chapped at times! (Most times.) when leaning in for a kiss you can get a quite pleasant fragrance. Think of cinnamon, tea—cloves. When locking lips with the pale man you unfortunately get that pang of his nicotine addiction. His voice is uniquely raspy yet soothing to hear at times when he’s not threatening people. His hands are also dry at times and quite rough. Rubbing his hands together sounds akin to starting up a fire.

Nurude…a mild sweetness. The melon soda he recently drank is prominent as your lips lock together. Leaning into him a fresh citrus scent clings to him. A rich amber follows the scent as you drift closer. Being held by him, his skin is surprisingly supple and soft. His voice always upbeat and positive almost song like…keeps you entertained and engaged for the day. If you tag along for a drunk karaoke his skin becomes warm and hot vanilla as he holds you close singing erratic. Always keeping you smiling.

I'm sure you know who this is, but I would love to know your thoughts on Samatoki Aohitsugi from Hypnosis Mic 👉👈 Maybe any headcanons you have or anything like that? 🫣 ♡

Samatoki Aohitsugi Headcanons

A/N: Oh my sweet Alice. I do know you and I hold you close to my heart. I have a few actually. Some more adult in nature and some not. But I’ll give you the sweet ones for now. The more intimate ones… I’ll share later.

Summary: You plan a private birthday celebration for Samatoki, just the two of you. Over a warm meal and soft conversation, you gently express your worry about how much he smokes and how it affects him. Instead of brushing it off, he listens. He lowers the cigarette, chooses you instead, and promises to try. The night continues with a slow dance in the room, no grand declarations, just the steady heartbeat of someone learning to lean on love instead of old habits.

The celebration wasn’t loud. It wasn’t crowded or flashy or full of troublesome people who picked fights just because they could. No, it was warm, quiet, and private. Blue and silver ribbons drifted in the air like soft waves of the Yokohama tide, and the lights glowed gently against the table you prepared.

A perfectly roasted dish, steaming dumplings, and a smooth bottle of liquor. No carrots. No bell peppers. Just the things he likes.

Samatoki sat casually at the chair, leg crossed, dressed in a deep blue suit that framed his broad shoulders. His shirt collar was left slightly open, revealing the necklace resting against his collarbones. His silver hair fell loosely, just messy enough to look unbearably attractive.

And those crimson eyes, focused entirely on you.

“Tch… so this was what you were up to,” he muttered, amusement in his tone. “Sneaky.”

You smiled. “I wanted today to be special. Just us.”

His lips curved, subtle but real.

“Yeah… I can tell.”

You sat beside him while he began to eat, pouring him another drink. Everything was peaceful - so peaceful he looked almost relaxed. The tension in his shoulders had eased into something softer.

After a while, he reached for a cigarette, a movement so natural to him it was practically muscle memory. The lighter clicked open.

“...Wait,” you said gently.

He paused. An eyebrow raised.

“What?”

You met his gaze, not stern, not accusing, just honest.

“I know smoking helps you calm down,” you began, voice soft. “But… you’ve been relying on it a lot lately. And I’m worried about your health, ‘toki. I want you to stay for a long time.”

His hand stilled, the flame unlit.

You leaned closer, speaking quietly.

“I’m not telling you to quit outright. Just… maybe not every time you feel something heavy. You can lean on me too. I want to be someone you rely on.”

Silence settled, in a meaningful kind.

The lighter snapped shut.

He lowered the cigarette.

His expression didn’t harden. It softened, something rare and real.

“You really don’t hold back when it comes to me,” he muttered. His voice wasn’t irritated, it was low, and thoughtful.

“Because I care,” you said. “A lot.”

He exhaled, not smoke - just breath, honest and quiet.

“You shouldn’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” you asked.

“Like I’m worth worrying about,” he muttered, though his eyes softened. “Makes me wanna try harder for you.”

Your heart tightened.

“So try.”

He didn’t respond with words immediately, instead, he stood from his chair and stepped closer, his hand slipping to the side of your face, thumb brushing gently along your cheek. His touch was warm, grounding.

“…Alright,” he murmured. “For you, I’ll try to cut back.”

Your eyes widened, soft with relief.

“Really?”

He gave that rare crooked smile, the one that only came out when something reached him deeper than he wanted to admit.

“Yeah. I don’t say shit I don’t mean.”

And then, slowly without rush, without force, he leaned in.

His lips met yours.

The kiss wasn’t rough or overwhelming. It was warm. Slow and intentional. Like he was memorizing the shape of you. Like he wanted the feeling of your lips to replace the smoke he used to chase.

You leaned into him, your fingers curling lightly at his suit jacket, and he wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you firmly secure but gentle.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours.

“…Happy birthday, 'toki,” you whispered, breath warm against his lips.

He let out a quiet laugh, small, genuine, and a little shy.

“Yeah. Happy birthday to me… I guess I got a hell of a present.”

His hand stayed at your cheek, thumb brushing your skin like he didn’t want to let go.

And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t reach for the cigarette.

He reached for you.

Samatoki’s thumb was still brushing your cheek when he finally stepped back, just enough to look at you clearly. The confetti had settled on the floor, ribbons swayed lazily with the faint movement of the air conditioner. The room was quiet - beautifully, comfortably quiet.

But the moment didn’t feel empty.

It felt full.

You stood there together, breath mingling, hearts steadying.

Then a soft song began to play. Something slow, the type you wouldn’t expect him to listen to. No heavy beats, no bass, just a gentle tune that filled the room without taking up space.

You blinked. “…You put music on?”

He gave a small shrug, trying to play it off.

“Just figured… the room was too damn quiet.”

You smiled, stepping toward him.

He didn’t ask. He simply reached one hand at your waist, the other finding your fingers. His grip was warm, sure.

You placed your other hand on his chest, right over the steady beat beneath the fabric.

You began to sway.

Not gracefully, not perfectly, but together.

Your steps were small, slow, the kind of dance where the world didn’t exist outside the rhythm of a heartbeat. His heartbeat.

Samatoki’s gaze stayed on you, softer than the lights around you.

“…Haven’t danced in a while,” he muttered.

“You’re doing fine,” you whispered.

“Tch. Don’t patronize me.”

But he didn’t let go.

If anything, he pulled you closer, his forehead brushing yours again. The scent of his cologne, clean and warm, replaced the usual haze of smoke that would have lingered.And it felt good. It felt right.

years passed and ure still foul in my inbox 😐😐😐😐 (i answered anyway)

ramuda amemura x gn!reader

bonus: samatoki aohitsugi x gn!reader

— RAMUDA AMEMURA

In the most literal sense, Ramuda’s kisses are as sweet as candy. You can always taste the flavours but you can never really tell which one is his favourite. Sometimes it'd be strawberry and sometimes it'd be chocolate. After some time, it became a game between you two to figure out what flavour he just ate prior to your kiss. He finds it cute whenever you're off the mark and uses it as an excuse to go in for another kiss.

Despite his sweet taste, Ramuda’s kisses can range from small pecks he gives to you in the middle of Shibuya to aggressive kisses tinged with a desperation he doesn't dare name. You can't help but think the gap was too different, like they were two different people entirely but you knew that it was the same Ramuda. His blatant display of his switch was proof that he places his trust in you—not even flings came this far, no one reached far enough to grasp his heart.

He kisses you as if it's his last, savouring every single moment he gets stuck to you. He kisses you as if it's his first time being in love, hesitant yet unadulterated in its entirety. He kisses you as if it's the only thing that can make him feel alive, the only time where his “defect” makes him feel whole. If the perfect version of himself meant that he'd have to get rid of all his emotions and the pleasure of being able to have you in his arms like this, then he'd rather keep his imperfections.

— SAMATOKI AOHITSUGI

Samatoki already has a rough time mellowing down, especially when he's agitated, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't try for you. Kisses with him would often fall under the two categories: aggressive with no restraint or an awkward attempt to give you a gentler kiss. The latter doesn't come to him as easily as the former, he knew better than anyone else that his greed can't be easily satiated.

At first he could live with quick kisses on the cheek and maybe the occasional peck on the lips that you would leave for him before you go on about your day. He was a bit bashful at first, saying that it was humiliating doing that in public but he never refuted it no matter how many times it happened. It was just a petty excuse to avoid saying he didn't mind it, the only downside was that his subordinates kept getting the wrong idea that he softened up.