#i am begging for peter to actually be peter

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mad Season 6 🕸 Story A

Warnings: non/dubcon, social anxiety, chronic illness, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: this is Peter's side of the story.

Summary: a class project gets messy. (short!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Um...” you drone dumbly at Peter. “I don’t know.” 

He stares back at you. He looks scared, “you don’t know?” 

“I’m sorry, I...” the raucous party rumbles on inside the walls. “I can’t think here.” 

“Hey, let me grab my jacket, we can talk outside,” he offers. “Wait, where’s your coat? You can’t go out like that?” 

You look down and realise you left your jacket inside. In fact, he took it. You shrug and he holds up a finger.  

“Please, just give me a chance.” 

You nod. What else can you do? He rushes back through the door and you turn away. You try to ignore the couple sloppily lapping at each other’s mouths. 

You don’t know what to think. You can barely cling to a coherent thought. Bucky’s warning echo in your head. Isn’t this proof? There are other girls, not just you. Yet, you keep asking yourself why you care about them. Peter asked you to be his lab partner, not his girlfriend. 

In fact, no one has ever asked you to be their girlfriend. Why would they? You’re quiet and boring. You shrink back against the wall and peer down at the floor. You should just tell Peter to go back to MJ. 

He appears and your resolve rots away. He only has his coat. “Hey, I’m so sorry, I couldn’t find your coat. I looked all over. The green one right? With the orange buttons? I don’t know what happened but take mine.” 

He holds you his jacket, “Oh, it’s fine. I can’t--” 

“Now what kinda jerk would I be if I let you go cold?” He insists. “I’ll be fine. Really. I like the cold.” 

You blink and take the jacket. You don’t like arguing. You already feel bad enough after barging in on him and MJ. You can’t stop thinking of it. God. It feels so... wrong. 

He walks you down the hall. You’re both silent. You keep distance between you as you get to the elevator and ride it without saying a word. You go out into the lobby and as you get to the front door, you grab the front of his jacket and start to push it off. 

“Please, keep your coat. I should go home--” 

“Just hear me out, okay?” He begs and stops you from taking off the coat. “Please.” 

You face him and dip your chin, “okay.” 

He sighs. You peek up from under your eyelids. He smiles nervously, cheeks pinkening, and he shifts his weight on his feet. He clears his throat. 

“Look, I’m an idiot. I went into that room with MJ. I know how she is. I’m not going to play victim here. All I can say is it won’t happen again.” His jaw ticks, “I’m a dummy. I was... I was so nervous about talking to you. I know you hate parties but I thought if I was drinking I could just tell you how I feel. And of course, it just made me stupid.” 

Your mouth falls open. He can’t be saying what you think he is. Right?

Before you can respond, the door to the lobby opens and you look over as MJ struts out. Her long legs are toned in her heels and her short leather skirt. Her hair is perfect and her makeup brings out her natural colouring. She’s perfect and you’re wearing a pleated skirt. 

You look at Peter again and deflate. 

“Peter,” MJ approaches, “why’d you run off?” 

“MJ,” he sighs, “I told you--” 

“What did you tell me before you had my tongue down your throat?” She smirks. 

“Stop,” he snips. “I said no.” 

“But you didn’t stop me,” she scoffs. “And now what? You’re scurrying around with her? Really? Her?” 

“Don’t be mean,” Peter steps between you and her, as if he’s trying to hide you. 

“You call it mean, I call it honesty,” she chirps back. 

“Get out of here. You weren’t even invited,” he snarls as he reaches back and latches onto your wrist. 

“When did you turn into such a fucking loser?” She snips and shoves him.  

He collides with you but takes most of the impact. She stomps out in her clunky heels as you turn to watch her. She doesn’t look back. 

Slowly, you spin back to Peter, “are you alright?” 

“Yeah, fine,” his shoulders droop. “Look, I get it. I screwed up. I don’t want to ruin the rest of your night. I already dragged you here. Just, take my coat, get home safe. Be done with me.” 

His eyes twinkle wetly and his nose twitches. He looks like he could cry. As small as you are, he seems even smaller in that moment. 

“You didn’t let me answer,” you say. 

His forehead lines in confusion and his lips open wordlessly. 

“I... I’m surprised is all. It’s been a weird night and...” You sway and fold your hands. “I’m kind of a mess myself. I really don’t do well in crowds. I know you know that.” You try to smile. “And I know it’s lame but... I really do try and...” you look away and your cheeks heat up. “I don’t think I would if I didn’t like you too.” 

Another suffocating silence sucks the air out of the room. You fidget and stare at your boots. You wince as Peter steps closer. He surprises you as he pulls the jacket closed and does up the zipper. As the tab reaches the top, he taps your chin and you look up at him shyly. 

“Can I walk you home?” He asks as he brushes his hand down the sleeve and tickles your fingers. 

A full smile breaks through and you nod giddily, “sure.” You grab onto his hand, vibrating in vibrant excitement. Can he feel you shaking? 

“You still cold?” He asks as he tugs you towards the door. You shake your head but as you step outside, he puts his arm over your shoulder and pulls you close. He walks you down the pavement as a blistering wind blows around you. “Gotta keep my girl warm, huh?” 

“Your... girl?” You squeak. 

He hums and squeezes you tight, “all mine.” 

[hurtspideyparker]

Emotional Support Intern Peter Parker

Tony and Peter finally arrive in the large room, polished leather Oxfords and stained-lace Converse making their way through the crowd of professionals. Tony has a hand on Peter's back guiding him, because no matter how many meetings, conferences, and office buildings they traverse together, Peter always manages to get lost the second Tony lets go. 

Thankfully Pepper is easy to spot, shaking hands with some blah blah from wee woo Industries. Her hair is the only splash of colour in the constant white black grey of everyone's pencil skirts and collared shirts. 

"Hi Ms. Potts!" Peter greets as soon as the woman turns and spots them. 

"Hi Peter—Tony. I told you to stop bringing the kid to these things. No offense Peter."

"None taken! You look lovely, did you get your hair done?"

Pepper's hair cascades over her shoulder in perfect curls, splayed out over her white button-up. 

"Yes actually, a trim and some highlights. I think she went shorter than I asked though, because I always get half an inch, and this does not look like half an inch."

Peter steps a bit closer and squints at the piece of copper hair she's holding out. 

"I think it's just because she curled it. You usually get it blow dried after."

"Hm. I think you're right actually."

Tony rolls his eyes, "I'm so glad you guys are having such a great slumber party. C'mon kid I have to avoid that senator and he's starting to glance this way." He tries to head over to some tall plants that happen to be great blind spots. 

"Ah ah ah Tony! We are talking about this. I told you to stop dragging Peter to all of your work responsibilities. I'm sure he's bored to death with these meetings and work events."

"Pep, he's an intern, he's supposed to be bored and taken advantage of. Besides, if you take away my emotional support intern then I simply wouldn't show up! So."

"You aren't even paying him for his time!" Pepper says at the same time Peter mumbles "emotional support intern?"

"Um excuse me, that 3 million dollar suit he stuffs between his math homework and Go-Gurt begs to differ. And anyways, I pay him with experience. I brought him to that seminar in LA on Saturday, and he's following me to Tokyo for that week long conference in July. I highly doubt he's complaining," he squeezes the boy's shoulders, Peter looking up and beaming at him and Pepper. 

"I'm really fine with it Ms. Potts. Besides, the more of these things I go to the more lab time I get!" Peter pipes in.

Pepper glares at Tony. "Really, bribery?" 

"Okay well, if us grown adults don't want to be here how else am I supposed to get a 15 year old to talk about environmental reform to people who don't even believe in climate change." 

Pepper and Tony hold each other's stares.

"You mean he spoke to Mr. Ellis about the generator you designed for his carbon plant, and it didn't end with him calling us a pansy corporation and you calling him a decrepit geezer who's business is the only thing that's going to die quicker than he is?"

There's barely stiffled hope supressed under Pepper's professionalism. 

Tony smirks. "Yep, I think Mr. Ellis even smiled. The kid's got charm! Who knew."

Pepper glances at Peter in consideration. 

"Peter have you ever considered pursuing anything further in business? Engineering is great, but if you really want to be successful it's incredibly important to build interpersonal skills, leadership, and even current market and finance knowledge. I mean you might want to sell your designs one day, or start a company." 

"Oh, I haven't really-"

"You could shadow me! I mean interning with a CEO is a once in a lifetime opportunity, it would give you a glowing resume, and I know a lot more about this stuff than Tony. He didn't even perform his executive duties when he actually was the CEO."

Pepper has that gleam in her eyes, the one she gets when men call her sweetheart, or when Tony isn't even dressed for their reservation that started ten minutes ago. 

It means she's already had the argument in her head. 

Peter is still stuttering, flustered with this side of Pepper. Her business face isn't usually directed at him, and it's a far cry from the woman who sends him home with leftovers from dinner. 

"Wait wait wait, are you trying to steal my intern?" Tony asks incredulously. 

"If anyone even needs an intern Tony it would be me. I have to babysit you and the company, meanwhile you just need him to hand you wrenches. Competent help is hard to find these days and you're wasting his talents." 

"Um, excuse me, he's the only thing keeping me together. You already have your fancy day planner and Excel spreadsheets, I need him to get me out of the house. He's the only thing keeping me a responsible adult, if you take away my emotional support intern then I will not attend a single meeting for the rest of the quarter." 

"You are such a man child!"

"La la la la can't hear youuu," Tony says with his fingers in his ears.

"Um, guys, I think people are staring."

Peter tugs on the corner of Tony's sleeve to get him to unplug his ears, glancing nervously at the groups of people sending them judgemental stares. The three of them give a wave and pleasant smile, most of the crowd continuing to move along on the grey carpet at the sight of their unsettling synchronicity and false turn of the lips. 

Pepper speaks through her teeth, a grin still presented at passers-by. "Fine, you can keep him, but only because he's doing half my job for me. The only person you can emotionally regulate around and it's a teenager. I'm glad you finally found someone who can keep you entertained." 

"Love you too honey," Tony says while putting a hand on the small of her back and kissing her cheek. He sighs, looking around the room at all the government officials who think these tech companies are spying on them. 

Apparently a surveillance state is only cool when they do it to manipulate their incarceration numbers, rig elections and lobby votes, and not for data mining and targeted ads. 

"I say we hit the cheese and crackers, take an awkward amount of sips from those tiny water bottles, and then speak to some old ladies till we have to do our presentation."

"Sounds great Mr. Stark. Will you make sure they don't grab my face again? I smelled like old lady perfume at school and Flash started making fun of me for stealing people's grandmas."

Tony looks into Peter's eyes questioningly and finds nothing but sincerity and resignation in them. 

"Well. Not my fault your cheeks are so gosh darn cute. But I'll do my best," he wraps an arm around the shorter and starts heading through the room again. 

The weight is comforting. Peter used to get anxious at these events, but Tony never leaves his side and is always looking at him like he's the Michaelangelo in the center of every room. He became accustomed to being Mr. Stark's favourite part of the event. While that may not seem difficult, especially considering the droning lectures and snooty company, it always feels special making jokes about people's ridiculous work jargon, and comparing the staleness of crackers at conferences. 

"Emotional support intern huh?" he says smugly. 

Tony glances at him, but instead of scoffing or denying anything, he just speaks with honesty. "You and Pepper are the best, most important things to this company. And to me. I'm really glad you're here kid."

Peter doesn't know what to say. The words stick in his throat while Tony hands him a water bottle with the lid already cracked. 

Peter has super strength; It's completely unnecessary to open his bottle for him. He doesn't point this out. Tony will do it at the next meeting, just like he did at the last one, and Peter will never mention it.

[atlasdoe]

"Who's afraid of little old me is about Regulus!!!!"

Have y'all ever heard of Peter Pettigrew????

[chasingfictions]

i know we all already did trying to cut down ttpd to a listenable playlist but . alternate universe where ttpd was called prophecy

[teamfortresstwo]

EVERYONE GO TO AO3 AND READ “TOWER OF SINS” BY MAGICALGHOST96 RIGHT NOW IT DRASTICALLY ALTERED MY BRAIN CHEMISTRY AND IT IS EVERYTHING TO ME

[afterthatidontknow]

—𝐰𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐞—

pairing. ex! Natasha Romanoff x fem! reader

summary. in a day you simply wanted peace, two unexpected visitors showed up. for one of them, you were glad.

warnings. smut! I am NOT responsible for your content consumption! — making out, thigh riding, strap on usage, cursing, angst (w happy ending), soft dom Nat.

notes. my first language is portuguese, so I apologize for any grammar errors. feel free to give me advice, though!

divider credits: @cafekitsune ★

Natasha Romanoff was known as a cold, ruthless woman, who never cared for anyone besides herself. Most of the people didn't know this was due her past — the Red Room was always in complete secrecy, so they feared her. She was already used to it. Whenever she started something with someone, in the next day, she had an empty bed as a gift. To be completely honest, she always felt used. Men and women touched her, to leave her in the morning.

That changed when she met you.

You could say you'd changed her completely, for the best, of course. She became more open with you, learned to express herself better and was not known as the most selfish Avenger in the team anymore.

But just like people say, not everything is a bed of roses.

Instead of using that achievement to improve your relationship, she began to care a little too much about her team of superheroes. At some point, she was no longer paying attention to you.

Reports this, reports that. Missions and more missions. "I have to go somewhere with Cap." "I have to train with Tony to a mission." "I can't, I'll have to go with Clint."

When you confronted her about this, begging for her to understand and willing to help her change, she decided that it was a better option to part ways. You were devasted, and she saw it. That made her heart ache — someone actually lov— liked her enough to want to stay.

This was the one and only reason Natasha didn't forget about you. The only reason she thought about you everyday. The only reason she teared up whenever entering her car and seeing the polaroid with the heart pendant you gave her hanging on her rearview mirror, that she didn't dare to take down.

Today, you were leaving work, heavy tired steps echoing on the pavement's wooden floor as the moonlight illuminated the room. The building was already empty, the streets, darker than your thoughts.

As you started walking to the nearest bus stop, you heard quick footsteps behind you — it was already late and usually there was no people on the streets like this. You turned your head, "you gotta be kidding me".

"Hey, Y/n!" Peter exclaimed, running to catch up with you. "I didn't know you were going to be here at 11:30pm."

You rolled your eyes and took a sharp inhale, but like always, tried to be polite. This so called coworker of yours was always looking at you, following you everywhere, and asking you things, not always work-related. You always made it clear that you weren't interested in men, and he insisted on saying he could 'change your mind'.

"Hey, Peter." you replied, faking a smile and nodding. "You need me to review your documents again?"

"Oh, no. I was just wondering if you wanna go on a date with me. Did you see the restaurant that just opened over there? I could treat you to—"

"No, I don't." you cut him off, more harshly than you intended to. "Look, Peter, I'm sorry. But I don't want anything to do with you, alright? So if you want, go ahead and find somebody else."

You shook your head, not even waiting for his reply and picking up the pace again, quickly rushing to the bus stop. That's when the guy showed you a side that you just suspected, but preferred to believe he didn't have

"C'mon, Y/n." he grabbed your arm, nails digging into your skin. "You won't broke my heart, will you? You're such a gentle, beautiful, kind woman. You will give me a chance."

You cleared your throat, feeling him get closer, and thinking about a certain Red Head — how she would gently, delicately graze your skin with her fingers, so softly whispering into your ear and bringing you to her embrace—

"Back off."

"Oh, no." he laughed. Such a creep. "I won't back off. And if you don't cooperate, I'll make you give me a chance."

Your hands trembled now, silently praying to whoever was seeing this just call the cops or do something. You didn't know the guy anyway. He didn't talk to anyone at work beside you, and you never got to know him, you would never. That's when it would be a good use to have a spy girlfriend. Just the last thing you expected to happen was to hear the sound of a gun cocking behind you, and a very familiar female voice.

"She said back off."

Relief unconsciously washed upon you as your arm was released, only because of the gun, though. You knew that if if wasn't for her, who knows what could've happened there. Peter left, annoyed, but the Russian swore to herself that she'd make his life a living hell.

"... Natasha?" you whisper, turning around with a confused and even scared frown.

"Yes," she worriedly rubbed your arm, shooting you, slowly making the feeling of the disgusting hand fade away. "Are you okay?"

"I am..." you nodded subtly, leaning into her touch. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I saw a woman being harassed. What was I supposed to do? Mind my business?" she said, obviously avoiding your question.

"You know this is not what I mean." you frowned, carefully letting go of her caress and wrapping your arms around yourself.

Natasha sighed, trying to think of a way to explain herself. 'Oh, I'm here because I miss you so much I can't even sleep anymore.'? No, it wouldn't do.

"I... followed you."

"Oh, great, so I'm being stalked twice today." you hissed, making Natasha look down with your harshness.

"No, Y/n.. I'm here for.. personal reasons. I saw you leaving work, and I noticed that guy following you. I decided to follow too, until he grabbed you and I knew I had to intervine." she explained quietly.

The fact she had said 'personal reasons' deeply hurt you, but you couldn't do anything, you had broken up after all. You nodded, and prepared yourself to walk tp the bus stop again.

"Wait," Natasha quickly stopped you, her eyebrows furrowed. "I won't let you go home like this."

This was something about the old Natasha you knew, the protective one. It was okay, you were tired, and a ride would be no harm. "Where's your getaway car?"

She smiled softly at your joke, and tilted her head. "Around the corner."

You two walked silently towards the vehicle, as she unlocked the doors with the keys and you entered the passenger seat. You threw your bag on the backseat before you could focus on the environment around you, and see the polaroid of you and Nat with the heart pendant you gave her hanging on the rearview mirror.

Natasha noticed your gaze as soon as she entered the driver seat, clearing her throat and starting the car's engine. "Couldn't bring myself to take those down."

You stayed silent, but your eyes could tell everything. I'm glad. Oh, I'm so glad.

Natasha remembered your address as if you hadn't broken up nine months ago, and when you reached your place, you too much disappointed for your own good.

"Thank you for the lift," you whispered, turning your body to be able to grab your bag from the backseat — in the exact same moment Natasha turned to unbuckle her seatbelt — your fronts touching, which made you two a little startled.

The problem was that you didn't pull away, neither of you. You slowly turned your head to meet Natasha's gaze, your face so close to hers you could feel her breath. Familiar. It was pure instinct, almost muscle memory, of the times she always kissed you goodbye when dropping you somewhere.

You didn't even notice your hand going up to hold the back of her neck, much less when she placed her hand on your thigh, and leaned in so your noses brushed. Natasha closed her eyes for a brief moment, almost savouring your closeness, your aura enveloping her once more. Then your lips barely, barely grazed, breath hitching, as she couldn't take it anymore.

The redhead pressed her lips against yours, giving them a long peck. It was surprising how much time you lasted without air. You didn't break the kiss, just darted the tip of your tongue out to lick her bottom lip, begging for entrance. She gave in, trying to pull you closer but being stopped by the goddamn control panel. As soon as you felt her tongue touching yours you realized that this was going too far. You pulled back harshly, leaving you two panting for air and a disappointed Nat.

"Do you..." you shakily breathed. "... wanna come in?"

"Mhm." Natasha hummed, turning off the engine. "Can I?"

You didn't answer, just opened the door and slipped out the car. As you entered, you could practically feel Natasha's eyes burning the place. How you didn't take down any picture of yours. How her stuff was spreading across the pavement. It gave her a sense of... hope? Of course, since she was in the same situation.

"So.. are you seeing anyone?" you asked her while kicking off your heels and leaving them by the door.

"I think you know the answer for that." the redhead practically hissed, making your head snap towards her.

"But I want you to say it." you retreated. "I want you to look at me in the eyes and tell me you didn't forget me. I want you to look at me in the eyes and tell me the reason of why you came to my town again and followed me when I left work. I want you to tell me the reason of why you kissed me just like we always did before."

"I didn't! I didn't forget you, Y/n!" Natasha snapped, looking away and tucking the loosen strands of hair of her braids behind her ears. "I didn't forget you and I never did. Alright? Happy now?"

"Is that so?" you laughed humorlessly, crossing your arms. "I thought you cared more about your superheroes buddies. Where are they now!?"

"I left them." Natasha replied, looking at you again with a mixture of anger and pain. "I left them and came back, to you, Y/n."

You froze at her words, swallowing your saliva. "... okay?"

"I came back here, because I wanted to at least a chance to explain myself. I wouldn't be able to live knowing that I hurt you, and that you think that I did it on purpose. So please, just give me a chance."

"...go on."

Natasha sighed in relief, exhaling the air she was holding. "I'm sure you know my story. You were the first one to know everything about it, about me. And I'm also sure you know you're the first one to ever love me. No one else ever loved me like you did."

You leaned against the kitchen counter, listening carefully to her words, ready to give her time and patience, like you usually did.

"... I didn't know what I was doing, Y/n. Every other relationship I had, ended in less than a week. Love is a weapon and it's letal for me, for people like me. I was, I am startled by all of this, by this fuzzy warm feeling that you always gave me, that you still do, in my thoughts.. the Avengers were my first family, and when I panicked, I tried to hang on to them. In order not to hurt you, and myself." she didn't even realize the tear rolling down her cheek, and shook her head. "That's it. I'm sorry for everything, but Y/n, you will always have a piece— you'll always have my whole heart in your hands. I'll get off your hair n—"

You couldn't. Not anymore. You rushed towards her and grabbed her face, cutting her off with a deep kiss. She was taking aback, but her hands traveled to your waist, pulling you flush against her, your fronts pressing. Nothing changed. Natasha pushed you backwards against your room's door, her tongue entering your mouth and dancing with yours. You could feel yourself getting lost in her, damn it, once more. It was like she had this spell on you — you were trapped, and didn't complain.

"Y/n," the russian uttered, hands slipping inside your shirt and giving your waist a squeeze. "I've got to have you again, at least for one last time. Please, just this once—"

Tired of her rambling, you smirked and grabbed her by the jacket, pulling her into a kiss again and dragging her into the room, slamming the door shut. Natasha took this as a 'yes', and her hands, under you shirt, went to unclasp your bra, making it fall to the ground and a groan of relief escape your throat. Before she could remove the rest of the fabric of your body, you stopped her, pushing her down to the bed.

"I always wanted to do that," you started to slowly, so slow that it almost tortured her take off your clothes, stripteasing for her.

"Shit, Y/n." she quickly started to get rid off her jacket, snd everything else she was wearing. You were careful not to trip on the pile of clothes on the floor, and walked over to her again, straddling her leg on the edge of the bed.

Natasha's hand grabbed your hips roughly, keeping you in place and it didn't take two seconds before you started to grind on her. "Nat," you breathed, arms going to circle her neck.

"Who else touched you like this while I was away?" she growled in your ear, pressing your body against hers. "Answer me,"

"No one," you whined, giving her a subtle shake of your head. "No one, Natty. J-just myself,"

"My poor girl," Nat began to roam her hands up your sides, her lips pressing kisses on your jawline, "I'm so sorry I wasn't there to help,"

"You're here now..!" you gasped, your movements faster, as she began to move her thigh to stimulate you more.

"And I don't plan on going away," Natasha murmured, tilting your head to look at her in the eyes. Even in your high, you could make sense of her words, and the weight they beared.

"Nat!" you moaned, closing your eyes shut. "I need... please.. I—I need you, inside me."

Natasha almost lost her mind with that, grabbing your hips and pinning you down to the bed. She reached her arm out for the drawer that she hoped your strap still was, and luckily, she was right. "I'm gonna fuck you like never before, Y/n." she attached the silicone cock to her hips with urgency, holding your hips in place as she ran the tip of it across your folds, making you whine in need.

"Don't tease me," you gently gripped her arms on your hips and looked at her with dreamy eyes. She couldn't resist — but your walls were so tight she had to put a little effort to enter you.

"Holy fuck, baby." she moved her hand to brush your hair behind your ear, giving you a little time to get used to the length. "So fucking tight for me,"

"I—" you breathed, interrupted when Nat started to slowly move in and out you, her red hair falling into your face. You moaned, putting her hair up in a makeshift ponytail and with your free hand, holding her neck. "God, I missed you,"

Natasha pounded faster in you with those words, your moans only getting louder by the second. She grabbed one of your legs and placed it over her shoulder, allowing her to hit your g-spot repeatedly. You thumb went to your mouth, wetting it and starting to rub her clit — she couldn't say she expected that, her soft moans saying everything.

"Cum with me," you breathlessly requested, eyes fluttering close. Natasha didn't have to be asked twice. Her hips slammed into yours, the wet sounds of her thrusting echoing the room. "Natty!"

You back arched, head thrown backwards as your orgasm hit you. Natasha's legs shook, her weight falling onto you and your arms immediately wrapping around her, keeping her close.

"Don't make me go away,"

"I could never."

[jji-lee]

mark was sat on the edge of the bathtub, one foot on the toilet as he tried his best to apply ointment on his fresh wound. what was even going through his head, he invited you over to talk, just talk, so why did he get the bright idea to shave his balls. i mean, better safe than sorry right? who knew, maybe you had spent just as many sleepless nights thinking about what it would feel like to have his skin up against yours, heat radiating off you bodies as you- enough.

there was nothing sexy about tonight, he had an injured ball and the truth to confess. tonight was about righting his wrongs, about trying his best to be honest with you.... and maybe, just maybe, after everything is said and done, he'd get a little lucky.

.

as you stared at mark's front door you couldn't help but wonder how the hell you ended up here. maybe some weird fate pulled you both together.

you'd been applying to change dorms since your first month of college (mark had always been a noisy neighbor) and your requests had always been denied, leaving you here next door to mark. and then when you finally tried to find love and you get paired with some super romantic anonymous guy (who you found out was mark), and then after that anonymous guy breaks your heart you find yourself falling for the noisy neighbor you once hated.

.

whatever silly red string had been pulling you towards mark had finally led you here. he was standing in front of you hair messy, a light blush on his cheeks as he looked down at you, a small smile on his lips,

"hi pretty girl.”

your heart fluttered at the nickname, immediately melting as he leaned down to wrap his arms around you waist, snuggling his face into your neck. he took a deep breath, enjoying your scent.

“mmm you smell good, i haven’t seen you in so long.”

a blush creeped onto your cheeks when you realized how domestic this all was. if you knew that all it took was a date or two with his friends to get him this sappy you would’ve accepted haechan’s advances a long time ago. you pushed him back by his shoulders, giggling,

“it’s only been like a week mark, don’t tell me you’re already falling for me.”

he grabbed your hand as he dragged you into his apartment, straight into his bedroom.

“more like i already fell, scraped my knee and everything.”

he chuckled nervously, trying to pretend he didn’t just confess his feelings. you bit your lip to hide your growing smile, scooting up onto his bed so your back was against the headboard.

“so why’d you call me over markie, besides the fact that you’re obviously jealous of hyuck.”

he made a sour face at the nickname you gave his friend,

“yeah hyuck, i called you over to talk about him actually.”

you raised a brow confused as to why haechan was the one thing on his mind. you were expecting a confession of him being the anonymous guy with tears in his eyes, on his knees begging for forgiveness, but you guess haechan is one way to start.

you nodded slowly, urging him to continue.

“yeah well, haechan isn’t peter, well i guess he is, technically, by law or something, it’s on his birth certific-“

“mark, stop rambling.”

he picked at his fingernail before continuing,

“yeah well he’s not the peter, you know the one that’s supposed to be your romeo, i am.”

he squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for your response.

“wait so you’re my romeo? the one i met on that anonymous dating site? the one that started acting weird before telling me he had a crush on another girl?”

he nodded, eyes still squeezed shut. you raised your voice a little,

“mark look at me, i’m talking to you.”

he slowly opened his eyes, biting the inside of his cheek nervously. you bit back a smile, happy that he was feeling at least a tiny bit bad for what he did.

“do you have anything else to say?”

he looked up at you, eyes slightly watery.

“i’m just sorry for everything, seriously, i should’ve never kept this from you, and i get it if you hate me now, but that doesn’t mean that i’m just gonna let you go. my feelings were true this whole time and i really like you, you’re the most interesting girl i’ve ever met. and i’m rambling now but i can go on and on about how sorry i am because i care a lot about our relationship and i want to work this out and-”

you brought a hand up to grab his shoulder,

"alright mark that's enough."

he stopped his ramble looking at you expectedly,

"i know, i've known since i went out with hyuck-"

"oh my god he told you? wait? so you knew and you still came to see me? why aren't you mad at me? why are you so calm?"

you shook your head, lightly laughing,

"do you want me to be mad mark? are you into that? want me to yell at you?"

he lightly slapped your thigh as his cheeks turned bright red,

"stop that! i'm serious! just because you're hot doesn't mean you can use that against me!"

you smirked at him,

"so you think i'm hot?"

he threw himself onto the bed, roughly rubbing his face with his hands.

"you're killing me y/n."

you got up from your place, crawling towards mark before straddling his hips. You hovered your face close to his, giggling as you watched him peek through the gaps of his fingers.

"mark? i'm not mad, promise."

he removed his hands from his face, instead choosing to place them on your hips, looking down to see where your bodies touched, the blush now spreading to his ears. he looked back up at you,

"yeah, but why?"

you looked down at him, liking this position a lot.

"mark, even when you were anonymous, you were nothing but a gentlemen. and when i finally got to know you in person i realized that you were more than just the asshole next door. and i gotta give you credit, you made me fall for you twice. you said your feelings are true and that's the honesty i'm looking for- are you seriously hard right now?"

he brought his hands back up to his face groaning,

"sorry, i was trying not to, i swear i'm listening to what you're saying, but for some reason that's making me hard too, i can't help it!"

you giggled,

"my confession is making you hard?"

he gave you a nervous smile as he slowly looked back down to your hips.

"so this isn't a bad time to ask you to kiss me?"

you leaned down lips only a breath away from his,

"you may be my markie now, but the fuck boy neighbor is still inside you."

he laughed softly as you tried to press your lips onto his, failing as you began to laugh with him. your teeth clashed as you both giggled into each others mouths. you leaned back slapping his chest gently.

"you asked for a kiss! stop laughing!"

he placed his hands back on your hips, smirking up at you,

"so you'll do anything i ask? is it a bad time to ask you to-"

you placed a finger over his mouth,

"mark lee i know what you're gonna ask."

you removed yourself from his lap, laying flat on your back,

"i'm not mad, but it doesn't mean you're forgiven."

he turned towards you, hand coming up to play with your hair,

"yeahhh but i promise you'll forgive me after i show you how good i am with my-"

"buh buh buh, mark lee stop it! i need you to get on your knees and beg for forgiveness! i am an empowered woman!"

"i have something elseee i can do on my knees, and it'll make you feel superrrr empowered."

you sat up quickly, turning to glare at mark,

"mark lee, i'm going to go to the bathroom and when i come out you better have a romantic dinner set up!"

you pushed yourself off the bed quickly walking to the bathroom hearing mark shout behind you,

"babyyyy, why do you need the bathroom all of a sudden huh?"

maybe you should've shaved before coming...

𖦹 .ᐣ.ᐟ₊ ⊹ cryptic crush — [35] hairy balls

previous — masterlist — next

notes : yippieeee we're almost there, they're not dating yet mainly cause i wanna make some chapters of mark being lovey dovey asking for forgiveness but basically they're fucking

taglist : @sunghoonsgfreal , @dalsosapple , @nanaxwi , @neverbeurs , @miichellehciim , @hizhu , @mystverse , @ppeachyttae , @jae-n0 , @onlyhyunjin , @alethea-moon , @onyourmark-99 , @sunnystarred , @p-d1ddy , @hisrkive , @flwrs4marklee , @haechskiss , @rutheaflowers , @busy-daydreaming02 , @byeonwooseokabs , @bunniin , @odxrilove , @injunnie-lemon , @sunflowerhae , @nosungluv , @222brainrot , @vklve , @aerivrs , @slayhaechan , @aek1ra , @honeynanamin , @roseangelxfuma , @starfilledgaze , @meowtella , @grassbutneo , @hyuck-me , @lovm4rk , @minkyuncutie , @babystrlla , @tynlvr , @jakesbubu , @yutasputa69 , @mrkleelvr , @spiderm444rk , @zzurao , @haechoshi , @brii-sunwoos-version , @nneteyamss , @morkiee

[whore-ibly-hot]

Yan!Husbands Boss x Married! Reader

"Just Another Day at The Office."

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Dub-con, misogyny, name calling, nude photos, coercion, dubcon touching, fem genitalia for reader, mentions of divorce, general perversion, praise, clit play, cheating, readers husband is a scumbag.

(AN: Requested by an Anon early today, and it made me feral.)

Tick... tick... tick... the sound of an office clock rings in your ears, the only sound louder is your heart, pounding in your ribcage. The clock was awfully loud, though you had never noticed it before, when you were coming to bring your husband a warm, home-cooked meal. Maybe then you didn't notice it because you weren't fearing for your future.

Morgan & Cole, the investment firm your husband had been working for for years had been doing better than ever, and in turn, so had your husband. Promotions, expensive raises, and more had been sent his way. The house was even being repainted. All that begs the question, how had you found yourself in this situation.

It was a few nights ago when your husband informed you of the deal he had made with his boss. Morgan, the co-owner of the company, had his sights set on you, apparently. At a holiday party, he approached your husband with an offer, an offer to get a night with you in exchange for another fat raise. You had always known your husband hadn't been the most loving, but you had never imagined his greed could get to this. The worst part was how casual the deal he described was. Approaching a man at an office party and asking to sleep with his life like you were discussing sports frightened you. You had only met Morgan once or twice, and while he seemed charming, him doing something like this made you very much doubt he was in actuality.

You are snapped out of your thoughts by the sound of a door opening. Morgan steps out of his office, fidgeting with his smart-watch when he looks up and sees your meek form in the office lobby. His brow furrows.

"Oh, Mrs. Peters, I hadn't expected you to met me here. I had intended to come pick you up. How long have you been here?" He asks. You gulp. "Not long, just ten or so minutes." You say, trying to hold eye contact. He sighs and shakes his head. "Well, I wish you would have knocked on my office door, I feel awful having left you out here alone. Come, we can head back into my office and chat." His voice is so soothing, and in any other situation it would have been nice. You enter his office, and he closes the door behind him, before sitting at his desk. You take the chair in front of it.

"So, I assume your husband-" His teeth grind as he says this. "Is assume he has gone over what this is about." You nod. "He did... and... and I don't know if I can do this. I don't know you at all, and I'm a married woman." You whimper. Tears begin to slip down your cheeks, and Morgan sighs heavily. He comes around to lean back against the front of the desk, one hand supporting him while the other touches your cheek.

"I know this must be scary, I understand that. But I'm gonna solve both of those problems right now." He kneels down so your eyes meet his. "First, you worry you don't know me. Let me fix that. My name is Morgan Brant, I am thirty-two, and I live in a loft down on 37th. I like charcuterie and making my own organic lattes. I work out everyday, and enjoy walking through the city. I have both of my parents, Ruth and John, and they live in the city as well. Anything else you'd like to know?" You're too stunned and still panicked to respond, so you just shake your head. "Okay, okay. Good." He murmurs. A hand strokes your hair softly, as if trying to soothe a wild animal. To your shock, for a man who basically paid for a co-workers wife to prostitute herself, he does seem genuinely upset at your fear. His eyes are filled with a sorrow, and he chews his bottom lip nervously. He looks down for a moment.

"Mrs. Peters, your second concern, about being a married woman, is very respectable. I appreciate that you respect the sanctity of marriage so much. I think your loyalty and love for your husband is beautiful." He pauses, and gently grips your chin so you look him in the eyes. "But... I worry that love and loyalty may not be returned. Mrs. Peters, I need you to promise me you will listen to what I am about to tell you." You gulp, his suddenly serious, yet still soft, tone worries you.

He stands, walking to the back of his desk and opening a drawer, grabbing a manila envelope before sitting down at his chair again. He pushes the envelope towards you, folding his hand together and sitting up. He looks as those this odd exchange is yet another business deal, as he sits like a man prepared to do whatever it takes to seal a deal. A real businessman. Your hand trembles as it opens the envelope. Your heart stops.

Inside, your husband can be seen in several photos, from many different angles. Some looked ripped from security footage, others appear to be taken at a distance. However, they all contain the same subject. Your husband, locking lips with various women, every photo a different one. Your hand covers your mouth as you let out a choked sob. "N-no... I mean, he was never warm to me, b-but..." Everything comes crashing down at once. All those nights you waited up for him when he was 'working late', all those warm meals you brought him at work, only to be brushed off so he could talk to his secretary. It all made sense.

"I can't believe this..." You squeak. Morgan shakes his head. "You can believe it, I know you can. He's never loved you, I've seen how he treats you. Rejecting your meals, ignoring you at office parties and work functions. My dear, he is actively sitting at home and preparing to count the bonus he received for pimping you out to me." Morgan exclaims, his shoulders tightening. You put your head in your hands. "I'm... what am I going to do?! I'll divorce him, but I'll have nothing. I, oh god." You cry. Morgan once again moves to try and comfort you. His broad arms wrap around your shoulders.

"I know, I know this is scary. You've been through a lot tonight, your entire marriage even. But it's going to be okay." He cups your face. "I've been watching the two of you, you mostly." He hands you something. An empty tupperware container. "This is from his lunch yesterday. Every meal he rejected from you, I gladly took. I hadn't had the chance to eat something made so lovingly in a long time. They don't serve home-cooked meals like this at business conferences." He chuckles. "I saw how you would cling to him at those same parties he was ignoring you at, and wishing, praying you would cling to me like that." You look up, his confession is shocking. "Your husband... he is a greedy man, but he has pride. I knew I wouldn't even get a moment along with you unless there was something in it for him." He shakes his head. "Darling, I was just as disgusted as you were that he'd agree to that. As excited as I was, as I am for this moment with you, I was thanking whoever is out there that no other person at this office had tried something similar. I'm not some deviant, or criminal. I've had my fair share of sexual encounters, with prostitutes and escorts, but... I never felt anything. I need to feel something. I do with you." He says.

You shake your head. "You don't know me." You say. He shrugs. "You don't need to someone to love them, not at first. I hate to say this, but you didn't really know your husband, did you?" You sob again, and his sticks his hands out. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry darling, that was out of line. I just needed to prove a point. What I'm saying is, I don't just want one night of pleasure with you. I want you to be mine. If you left him, you wouldn't be lost or desolate, you would have me. I could give your everything he has and more. Money, a penthouse, and my love. Real love. You deserve someone who wants to care for you the way you cared for that man-child. I can do that." You sniffle. "It's all so soon, and I don't... I'm scared." You say again. "I know. I hadn't wanted to do this here. I had wanted to show you the pictures and confess early on, I had plans to pick you up and take you somewhere nice to eat. I know the last thing you want right now is a fresh new relationship, I understand. But just maybe, the idea of revenge tempts you?" He suggests. You look up, and bite your lip. "What are you suggesting?" You ask.

"He thinks he's better than you, and that you could never leave him, because you have no one else, nothing else. Why else do you think he assumes their will be no repercussions for a night like this? He's so confident that you would never leave him, never even think about another man, that he truly believes you will return to him after he's pimped you out." Morgan moves closer. "I won't lie, I'll enjoy this, but don't just do it for me. Do it for yourself. Give in, leave him for a man who will worship you, who can give you more. Get back at him, and be with me." You shake your head. "You... you paid him to pimp me out to you like this though?" You exclaim. He nods "I had to show you how little he cared for you, same with the investigators I hired to get those photos." He nods in the direction of the envelope, now dabbled with your tears. "Besides, I've already signed his termination papers, I don't hire men like that here. He isn't getting shit for doing this to you." He assures.

In a moment of weakness, you break. The betrayal of the evening, the hurt and the fear, the anger, it's all too much. You sink to your knees, and nod. "Alright, let's do it. Just... be gentle, go slow." He nods. "Oh, my sweet. I'll do whatever you ask." He captures your lips, pressing your back against the front of his desk as he kneels beside you. His lips are soft, and taste of bourbon and mint. He smells like cologne, but a good kind, something smokey. Not like the tacky expensive stink of your husband, now ex-husbands favorite cologne. His tongue prods at your lips, and shyly you part them, allowing his tongue to slip in and suck against yours. He groans, and you both pull away breathlessly. While you take a breath, he immediately latches onto your neck, placing quick, feverish kisses along your collarbone. You gasp at the feeling, shrinking in on yourself. He grins.

"Does it really feel that good, that's quite a reaction." He chuckles. You blush and look to the side. "It's- It's been a while." He frowns and tilts his head. "How long is awhile, darling?" He whispers. "A few months, maybe eight or so." He shakes his head. "My poor girl, doing all that for him and he still wouldn't please you." He grips your waist, his lips on the shell of your ear. "To be fair though, even if he did, he couldn't make you finish. He would please himself, not you. But I won't, baby. Tonight, is all about you." You can feel a thick hardon pressing against your knee.

"Tell you what, darling. Let me make you feel good, real quick. Something nice and easy for my sensitive girl. Then, I'l take you out. I'm not just going to have sex with you without wineing and dineing you. Then, I'll take you back to my place, I-I'll send for your stuff tomorrow, and if you want, we can go for round two." He coos, looking up at you with admiration and hope. "Won't my husband try to resist my stuff being taken?" You ask. He shakes his head. "He's not your husband. If he calls, I'll hang up. He sold you out, and if he gets pissy, I've go the best lawyers in the country at my disposal. I'm not letting you spend one more night under a roof with that man. You aren't Mrs. Peters anymore, you're Mrs. Brant. Now... let Mr. Brant make you feel good." Hands cradle your thighs, slipping the skirt of your sensible slip dress up over your knees. A hand paws at your panties, cupping your cunt as he sighs. "So warm, poor little thing hasn't been touched in months. I've only kissed your neck a little, and your soaked. Is it because I said I love you? Does your little cunt respond well to just being admired and appreciated? Oh, my darling." He slips your panties aside just a little, not wanting to ruin your outfit for dinner later. Fingers part your lips as a long digit strokes up, from your entrance to your clit. A finger prods the entrance, and you gulp at the throbbing heat you feel.

"Gentle, slow please." You murmur. He nods, placing a gentle kiss on your neck before slipping in his digit. His long, calloused fingers rub your neglected walls in all the right ways. "A-ah, Morgan..." You pant. "Good?" He asks. You nod, breathless already. He thrusts it in and out gently, before asking to add another digit. When you nod, he adds another, while his free hand circles your clit with his middle finger. Perhaps its from typing everyday, day in and day out, but he is skilled. Even when your husband has slept with you, you had never felt like this. A coil forms in your stomach as you pant and whimper.

"M-morgan." You moan. "Please, I need to-" You're cut off by him sharply curling his fingers, as they hit a spongy spot deep inside you. "Oh, god. Yes." You moan again. "Cum for me, darling, please. I want to hear you." Morgan's tone is suddenly more desperate ethan you had heard it all night. He's needy, begging to know that he is pleasing you in the way he so desires. "Say my name, would you? I just want to please you, I need to know it feels good." He begs. "Morgan, I'm gonna cum, shit-" Your walls begin to pulse, juices coating his fingers. As you moan, finishing your high, he kisses you feverishly, desperate for closeness.

When you pull away, panting as you come down from your orgasm, he licks your juices off his hands with a squelching noise, putting your panties back into place. He helps you to your feet, and hands your your purse. "Ready for dinner?" He asks. Tired and very hungry, you nod. "Just one more thing, and you don't have to do anything, I've dealt with this myself plenty but-" He looks down, the tent in his pants is still very prominent.

"May I handle that before we go out?"

[webslingingslasher]

hi!! can I request frat tasm!peter being sad/disappointed about reader not calling him petey anymore but he's trying to play it cool lol

like reader would come up to him like "hey pete what's up" and he'd immediately notice but he doesn't wanna let it show that he cares so he'd be like "you're acting weird" or something and reading asking him what the hell that means and he goes "haven't called me anything other than petey in a while" tryna brush it off lol and reader instantly knows where he's going but decides to play dumb like "yeah well you told me you didn't like it when i called you that" and peter wants to DIE cause he doesn't wanna admit that he actually kind of likes it and it's just endless teasing and maybe a flustered peter lol

this got extremely long lol im sorry feel totally free to ignore this if you don't wanna write it!! I love your writing <3 have a great day!

*cleaning out my inbox- this is regular frat!peter, however you invision him.*

'hi, peter!'

not that he's counting, but it's been four days since you called him petey and at this point he swears you're upset about something, you just won't tell him what yet.

'hi, trouble.' his kiss must be lacking, your thumb rubs over his bottom lip and you show a small frown. 'what's wrong?'

'nothing,' it's spoken into your skin. you don't believe him, you try again, peter's better this time around. 'your kisses feel sad.' okay, maybe not.

'i'm not sad, you're the one being weird.' you tie around him for a hug, he gladly copies you. 'i'm not being weird, you're being weird.' peter hums, you feel his chest vibrate.

'sorry. i think you're mad at me and you won't tell me why.' you have to be, it's the only reason you've been holding back your favorite name.

'i'm not mad at you. why do you think i'm mad?' peter's tapping his fingertips down the middle of your back, he doesn't know how to say it without sounding like a baby.

'i don't know. you've just been a little less affectionate than normal.'

you try to think back, you don't think you have. you had lunch with him almost everyday and wrapped your arm around his at the table, and kissed his cheek almost every ten minutes. and you almost had to beg him to ditch the party to come cuddle with you on saturday. 

and you're currently in a hug with no time expiration. you don't know how you could be more affectionate.

'have i?' you're looking at him for answers because you have none.

'yeah.' you can't fix it if he won't tell you. you poke his side, then tether your arm back around him. 'you gotta tell me how.'

'you just...' peter's so glad you're in a hug and have your head turned, because you can't see the blush he's feeling. 'you haven't called me petey in awhile.'

you feel your heart burst open. he loves it just as much as you do.

'you told me you didn't like it.'

peter knows what he said. it's just not what he meant.

'it doesn't matter if i like or not, i got used to it.'

you take a few seconds to think about it, it doesn't mean you can't have fun. 'if i start calling you petey again you can't give me sad kisses.' peter washes his hands over your back, you melt in further.

'if you started calling me petey again i would have no reason to give you sad kisses.' boom. he said it and he really wasn't thinking, you push him away and look up with shining eyes.

'you really do like it!' a gasp, you reach for his face- you reach for his pink cheeks. peter grabs your hands, 'no. leave me alone.' you bat him off and try again, he lets you.

peter blushes harder when you coo. 'you're my handsome petey.' his eyes close, 'trouble.'

'yes, petey? i'm all ears for my petey.'

my petey. he really likes that. it shows on his face, he swears he's about to start sweating. 'you know what you are?' it's not rhetorical, you're waiting for him to ask.

peter peeks an eye open, he's never seen you so infatuated. 'what am i?' you place a kiss to each cheek, 'you're my petey pie.' a whine follows, 'no, i'm not. i'm not a pie.'

'you are. you're my petey pie and you're so, so sweet.'

it's been a nonstop blush. you're loving this. 'guess what flavor you are,' you tell him before he can ruin it. 'strawberry.'

peter claws your hands off. 'okay, it's done. we're over this, now.' you won't let him escape without another kiss. 'sure thing, petey.' 

[moonstruckme]

hey queen! i am humbly requesting some tasm!peter x plus sized!reader 🛐

maybe he was coming home from patrolling/being out as spidey and saw something in a window that reminded him of reader? like a knickknack or flowers or something like that? and he comes home and gives it to her and she’s all flustered and smitten 🤭

feel free to add your own spin to it or anything! i’m just in need of fluff and hugs from my boy 🫶🏻

Thanks for requesting lovely!

tasm!Peter Parker x plus size!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Peter knows he’s got other things he should be doing. He’s technically not done with the amount of time he likes to spend patrolling every day (plus there’s a serial burglar out there he should really be trying to catch), and if he’s not doing that he should be getting home to work on the research paper he’s got due tomorrow, and if he’s doing neither of those things Aunt May’s been begging him all week to dust the shelves she can’t reach. But when you open your door and he sees the look on your face, Peter knows he made the right decision neglecting all that shit. 

“Hi!” Your voice lilts through the syllable, happiness coating it like honey. 

“Hey,” Peter says back, immediately losing whatever advantage he had in the conversation. You’re surprised to see him, sure, but he’s surprised to see you like this. You’re still in your pajamas, evidently enjoying a day in, a large t-shirt and draw-string shorts that make you look all lazy and adorable and leave the delicate flesh of your thighs on display. Peter wants to bite them, but that wouldn’t be very gentlemanly. 

“Hey,” he says again, blinking to clear the haze from his brain. “I, uh, you said you like irises, right?” 

“Yeah…” There’s a hesitant sort of question in your voice. You eye the small bunch of flowers in his hand. “Are those for me?” 

Peter grins. “Who else, sweetheart?” He tacks on the endearment mostly to see you fluster. It’s a success; your arms come up to hug your torso as your cheeks dimple, smile half-suppressed. 

He passes you the flowers before he can fluster too. The plastic wrap crinkles under your careful touch, and you glance between him and them like you can’t decide which to admire first. 

“Thank you so much,” you say. “Did we…have something today?” 

“No,” he laughs, hooking his thumb in the strap of his backpack. “No, you’re good. I was just in the neighborhood, and they made me think of you.” 

Your eyes go all pretty-pleased at the comment, but you tilt your head curiously. “What do you have to do around here?” 

Ah, the question he’d hoped you’d be too happy to ask. The truth is, Peter’s almost never in this neighborhood if not for you. Spiderman gets around, but there’s not usually as much going on here as in the rest of the city. He’d spotted the flowers at a stand he’d webbed a catcaller to on the lower east side, and then came over to your end of town to bring them to you. It was only, like, a ten minute swing. Much more efficient than the subway. 

“Thrifting,” he says slowly. “I was, uh, just looking to update my closet a bit, and I know you’ve got a lot of good thrift stores around here.” 

“Nice.” You smile, taking a little sniff of your irises. Their bright color makes your already exquisite face look even lovelier, and it’s such a perfect image Peter wishes he had his camera on him. “Can I see your finds?” 

“No,” he replies. Too quickly, so he tries to look really put out to compensate for it. “No, I didn’t find anything. I’m…really picky about my clothes.” 

“Oh.” Your eyes drop to his plain gray t-shirt and jeans, but thankfully you’re too nice to say anything. 

“Right,” Peter blazes ahead, tugging on the straps of his backpack, “so I just wanted to bring you those, and I’ve actually got shelves to dust, so I’d better go…” 

“Okay, thanks for the flowers,” you say. “They’re really pretty.” 

“Yeah, I figured it must be hard being so pretty all by yourself,” he says, spinning around to walk backwards so he can see your reaction, “so I figured I’d get you a companion.” 

You press your lips together, flushing and tilting your head downwards as if to hide it. “Thanks,” you almost whisper. Peter grins hugely. 

You look up just as he’s turning back around, your focus narrowing on something behind him. 

“Hold on a second.” Peter halts opediently, and you come outside, that t-shirt fluttering prettily around your hips. “Something’s falling out of your bag…” 

He thinks to be nervous just before you pull the red and blue mask from the unzipped pocket of his backpack. 

“What’s this?” 

“That…” Peter’s nodding but he doesn’t know why. It’s some sort of automatic response, like he turns into a bobblehead under pressure. His mouth is void of saliva. “That’s a costume.” 

Your eyebrows twitch together as one side of your mouth kicks up, like you’re not sure what to make of him. “You dress up as Spider-Man?” 

The nodding turns to shaking weirdly seamlessly. “No! No, of course not, I’m an adult. It’s—it’s not for me.” You look at him expectantly. “I’m making it…for my nephew.” 

“Oh.” You blink. “I didn’t know you had a nephew.” 

“Really?” Peter hears his voice pitching higher, but he’s powerless to stop it. “I didn’t mention him? We’re pretty close—well, not that close. He lives…away. In Connecticut. But he wants a Spider-Man costume, and obviously he wants me to make it, because…I’m the guy for that stuff.” 

You nod respectfully. “You are really good at sewing,” you say, and the look you’re giving him is so sweet it nearly takes his knees out from under him. “It’s nice of you to do that for him. You’re really thoughtful, Peter.” 

You say it all soft and considerate, like it’s a secret you’re letting him in on, and Peter’s honestly worried for his heart health. He’s not sure it can take the strain of all this. 

“Yeah, well, only for people I care about,” he says just as quietly. 

You drop your gaze, smiling to yourself, and start tucking the mask back inside his backpack. “Your nephew must be a cool kid. I’d love to meet him sometime.” 

“Yeah, maybe if he comes to town sometime.” Which will be, you know, never. But hopefully by the time it gets suspicious you’ll know enough that he can come clean with you about that. 

He hears the zipper close and turns before you can move away. Peter wants desperately to wrap his arms around you, feel the softness of your body pressed up against his, but he settles for taking your hand. At the look on your face when he smiles and gives it a squeeze, you would’ve died at the alternative. 

“Thanks, sweetheart.” 

Your lips part. “No problem,” you breathe. 

He gives your hand one more press for good measure, letting his fingers drag across yours as he steps away. “See you Friday, yeah? For dinner?” 

“Yeah.” You clear your throat. “I’ll see you then.” 

Peter shoots you one last grin over his shoulder, headed down the sidewalk. “Looking forward to it.” 

[crooked-wasteland]

I'm very much looking forward to your Stolitz/HB is a bad musical essay. I've had my own thoughts on HH being subpar as far as a musical goes but never really felt like I had the knowledge on musicals as a narrative style nor as a music genre to do it much justice; excited to see you tackle the topic in regards to HB! 🫡

I absolutely understand the hesitation. It isn't like I personally have a masters in Musical Theory, but I think we as a generation have had musical theories subliminally inculcated into our psyche from the sheer amount of exposure that we can understand what makes a good musical and recognize when those qualities are simply not there. No one has reservations talking about how bad Wish was as a musical, and what I am finding in my own deep-dive for this essay is that Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel suffer the same issues as Wish. The lead in music being Sam Haft who is not a musical theatre composer and frankly doesn't understand how musical theatre functions on a fundamental level.

For a small preview of a major point in my essay that I plan on expanding much more, Helluva and Hazbin completely lack an understanding of musical diegesis. This may be a new term for some. Diegesis is most often referenced in how music interplays within a movie or film.

Most of the time the music is not diegetic to the story. When we have big moments in our media with that swelling emotional music, we don't think that there is an orchestra just off screen playing this music for these characters. We are aware the music is an external component to the story. In this way, the music is most often not diegetic to the narrative.

Of course that isn't always the case. Take for example Guardians of the Galaxy and how the films utilize their soundtrack. Starting the movie off, we hear Come and Get Your Love as we would hear any other soundtrack, only for Peter Quill to remove his headphones and the music can be heard playing faintly over them. That makes the song Diegetic.

Another example is Shrek. All of the pop songs in the films are non-diegetic, but there are diegetic songs in, say, Shrek 2 with the Fairy Godmother singing Holding Out for a Hero.

To pull back to more direct inspiration, Happy Day in Hell is nothing more than an embarrassing parody of Beauty and the Beast's opening number Belle. However, Belle is non-diegetic. The Townspeople are singing their thoughts and feelings, but that is not what literally is happening. And Belle turning at the end isn't supposed to be taken as literally the town coming to a halt just to follow her and talk about how weird she is, but that the town as a collective sees her as an outsider and she gets that sixth sense sort of feeling of people judging her. Because they are, they just don't say anything. That is a key crux for the film.

Every single song in Helluva Boss and Hazbin are diegetic. We know this because Vaggie tells Charlie not to sing and we are told by Angel Dust explicitly that Charlie is, in fact, physically singing. Stolas' song ends with Stella telling Stolas to stop singing. Striker, Verosika, Moxxie, Stolas, Fizzarolli, Glitz & Glam, and Asmodeus all sing as a part of a literal performance.

In fact, Hazbin goes out of its way to shoehorn in-universe reasons to have a song rather than just allowing the world to exist in that heightened reality. Additionally, by having the songs explicitly being legitimate songs in the world, we actually face more issues with the world building because on one hand Vaggie is begging Charlie to not sing and is struggling with the secondhand embarrassment, only for the denizens of Hell to join in? Except the world has established that singing is not something people just do. It is the one time the criticism of "Why is everyone singing" and "How do you all know the words?" Are legitimately valid questions.

This all screams insecure and shows a clear discomfort with the genre of musical theatre as a whole. There is no depth of understanding how music in musicals function, just like Wish.

That isn't even touching on how San Haft's lyricism is identical to Wish's worst numbers with how he just borks the internal structure and meter of his songs.

[bizbat]

Kill for Her - Jason Todd x Reader - 1

🕸️Spiderverse Masterlist🕸️

🐼JJK Masterlist🐼

~ Fem terms used for reader.

~ Mild smut alluded to but nothing explicit.

~ Reader's appearance is not described.

~ Parts one, two, three, and four, as well as my other works, can be found here!

~ Also please lmk how i can improve the masterlist if you do end up checking out my other works!!! (:

~ Thank you so, so much for everyone who requested more crazy jason! ILLYYYY (p.s. thank you for being so patient with this, ik it took forever omg)

~ Wc: 1.4k

~ Tw: (Very) Unhealthy Relationship Dynamics and All that Comes with it, Mentions of Having Children, Jason Todd is Not a Good Person in this, Pet Names, Nausea, Angst, Blood and Violence, Variety in Themes, Cringe maybe (lmk)

"Break up?" You think you can just "break up" with Jason Peter "I've never been in a real relationship bc I died as a teenager and I have serious deep running abandonment issues stemming from my more than troubled childhood" Todd?

Funny.

Real funny.

But yk what he doesn't think he really likes that joke and maybe you should actually never tell it again, okay? ((:

It doesn't matter what way you try to approach the subject. Kind, playing into his delusions about being a real couple? You're overthinking things, but that's fine, he loves you anyways.

Yelling, crying, screaming for him to get the fuck out of your home and go die? You're probably just being dramatic, but that's okay, you're sassy, he's sassy, match made in heaven!

The man is kookoo. He genuinely believes that you're destined to get married to each other and either have or adopt a ton of children and he's gonna be the best dad ever and you'll be a wonderful mom ever and blah blah blah blah.

And I've barely scratched the surface of all his crazy, it runs deep.

~ Drabble Starts Here. ~

He'd kill for you. Without a doubt.

He's always figured, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he might have to go back on his word to Bruce for your sake, that he might have to further stain his own soul and hands to keep yours clean, to protect you, to protect your relationship. It's not something he's too particularly worried about, to him, you might as well be the only living person on the planet anyways. Don't get him wrong, he loves his family, to the moon and back and more (don't tell them that), but if there were two people left on the planet, and one of them was you, and the other was him, he thinks the world might finally be fair. That life might finally be kind to him.

And with reasoning like that, whispered into your hair at night when he thinks you're asleep, how could you be so cruel as to break his heart? How could you when he begs, begs you not to see how evil he thinks he is at night when he's been up too late and his brain starts to tell him cruel things about himself? When he brings you a gift every time he sees you. Granted, they're stolen, and granted, he broke into your home. But they're exemplary of his devotion to you nonetheless. Or at least that's how you see it, that's how you see him.

It's true, Jason has lived a life more than deserving of pity, of kindness and support. That's part of why you feel nauseous right now, your hands, slightly clammy, nervously wring the hem of the shirt you're wearing. It's big on you, hanging down past your thighs. You can't remember if it's his or yours. Your tongue feels too big in your mouth, and your knee is bouncing so much you're sure the muscles in your calf are well defined by now.

The reason you feel so ill as you wait for him at 12:48 AM, your eyes flicking back and forth between the clock on your phone and your TV currently playing reruns, is because tonight is the end of it. The end of Jason breaking into your apartment with a spare key he had made without your knowledge, or your window when you switch your lock for the umpteenth time. The end of you waking up next to him in your bed when you know he wasn't there when you went to sleep. The end of his overly personal nicknames that allude to a relationship you've told him time and time again that you Do. Not. Have.

Tonight you're "breaking up with" Jason Todd. If you weren't on edge you might laugh at the thought. You and Jason have (at least in your adamant opinion) never agreed to date. He never asked you out, he just started, well, acting the way he acts; breaking into your home, stealing random articles of clothing that he has a particular interest in, acting like your boyfriend. But it's been months. You're tired.

"Jason!" You say, surprised at his sudden appearance. You guess you got too caught up in your thoughts. He smells like metal. You're worried about what he might've been getting up to, but that's not your main focus at the moment.

He hears your voice sing his name as he walks into your shared apartment, through the door this time. He knows how much you hate it when he comes in through the window. He's happy to see you, albeit a little surprised, you're usually asleep by this time. You must've stayed up for him, a smile rises to his lips at the thought. "Hiya doll, what're you doing up so late?" He's clearly exhausted, even though he's turning in relatively early, it now being 1:29, he's already had a long, long night. A long, painful, violent night.

All he wants right now is to lay beside you, to rest his head on your chest and hear your heartbeat. It's his second favorite sound in the world. The first being those gorgeous noises you make when he's got his head between your thighs and your fingers in his hair-

He's pulled from his thoughts at the sight of your lip tucked between your teeth, the worry on your face more than evident. His smile drops as he hangs up his signature leather jacket on the coat rack beside the door, and slowly makes his way over to you. "You okay, doll? What's wrong?" He asks you with such sincerity, like he really does care. And the worst part is you know he does.

"We . . . we need to talk, Jason." He can hear how nervous you are just by the way your voice quivers as you address him. It always makes his heart hurt when he hears that. You avert your gaze, unable to look at him at this moment. You breathe deeply, trying to calm your heart and quell the bile fighting to come out. You need to do this, and you need to do it now. "I . . ." You barely manage to warble out, clenching your jaw before bracing yourself. "I want to break up with you Jason." You say after taking a deep breath through your nose.

This is it, you did it. You can feel the saline tears rising to your waterline, but you aren't sad at all. You swallow the massive lump in your throat as you wait for his response, your hands furiously gripping your shirt, an unreadable expression on his face. He just . . . stares for a moment. He doesn't blink, he doesn't frown, he doesn't start sobbing, fall to his knees, beg you to change your mind.

He doesn't do anything. The longer his stillness goes on, the more and more your confidence deteriorates. Your shoulders drop from their tense state, your lip quivers, and your ears ring from how dead silent the room seems to be. "Jason . . ." He's barely blinking, his head slightly cocked, his hands limply dangling at his sides. "I said," You clear your throat, not favoring how weak you sound. "I said I want to break up with you. I don't want to date you anymore." You know he heard you, but you repeat yourself nonetheless.

The longer the two of you sit in silence, the harder it is to stomach it. Your hands shake as they grip your shirt, the fabric wrinkles in your tight grasp, your chest feels like all of your ribs have turned into snakes and started squeezing and constricting around your pounding heart. His eyes pierce your soul, the usually deep pits now shallow and glassy. Eventually, the second that he sees a single drop of water fall down your cheek he seems to snap out of it.

The life, the color returns to his face and eyes, as if he was just woken out of a deep trance at the mere sight of your tears. Then, perhaps most disturbingly, he laughs. A cold, icy chuckle that slides off his vocal cords and freezes the room. It sounds almost plastic, rehearsed, like he's practiced it in the mirror hundreds of times in preparation for moments like this. "That . . ." he wheezes between bouts of fake laughter. "That was really funny, babe, you almost had me there."

Jason runs a hand through his hair, disguising the act as if he's trying to gather himself when really, he's resisting the urge to grip on the strands of inky black until they rip from his scalp. He's still pretending to collect himself as he slips past your form, still standing almost perfectly still, into your room. You don't even remember the rest of the night. You don't remember what either of you said, what either of you did, all you remember is following him into the room, being coaxed into bed, and resting your swirling head on his chest as his arms wrapped so, so tightly around your shoulders.

Jason doesn't sleep well that night, even with you safely tucked into his arms. It was a joke, it was a joke, it was a joke. That's what he tells himself. Over and over in his head, bouncing off the walls of his skull; it was a joke, it was a joke, it was a joke. It must be, it has to be. His sweet Y/n, who knows what he's been through, who knows he's never had anything, and anything he has ever had was ripped from his hands, his Y/n would never be so cruel.

She'd never leave him. He couldn't let her. Not when he'd die for her, not when he'd kill for her.

[maximoff-pan]

steve and reader drabble about a secret relationship mayhaps? 😫

you know I can’t resist writing for this hunk of a man ;)

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 2.4k

warning(s): some swears, being caught red handed 🤭

quick a/n: hi lovelies! sorry for being m.i.a recently. I’ve gone back to school and it’s been too busy for me to write anything. I apologize for this being rushed/incoherent, please forgive me….

part two

Fucking girls night…

Whatever possessed you to think this was a good idea, you’re not entirely sure. Honestly, you can’t even remember who convinced you to come; they’d all been begging you for weeks to finally show up to one of these things. And now that you’re here, you’re quickly realizing why you’d been so hesitant before.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt this flustered or uncomfortable in your life, and that’s definitely saying something. Really saying something…

It’s not the fact that everyone here has a significant other that bothers you. It’s the fact that everyone here has a significant other, and they think you don’t. Because as far as they’re concerned, you’re as single as single can be.

Which would be fine if it was the truth. But it’s not. And the guilt is starting to eat at you. How many more times do they have to try and set you up before you break?

Quite frankly, at this rate, it feels like you’re almost there.

“What about Peter Wilson?”

Robin recoils at Nancy’s suggestion, picking her nails in disgust. “Absolutely not.”

You remain quiet. They’re trying to find you a boyfriend, again.

“What’s so bad about him?” Max inquires.

El adds, “He’s kind of cute.”

“Sure,” Robin scoffs, “If you’re into delusional sociopaths.”

Tilting her head, brow quirked, Nancy asks, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Robin’s pitch drops slightly. “Let’s just say, that incident where Stacy Mathers almost drowned last summer, wasn’t so much of an accident.”

Max’s eyes widen. “You mean he tried to–” she trails, too disturbed to even finish the sentence.

Robin nods. “That one’s as sadistic as they come.”

“Okay.” Nancy agrees, moving the conversation along. “So that’s a no on Peter.”

“Ooh.” El claps, eyes locking with Max. “What about Adam?”

“Adam Richards?”

Max and El nod together.

Your head has never whipped around faster. “You can’t be serious!”

Your voice catches Robin’s attention. “First of all,” she smirks, “welcome to the conversation! And second of all, what could possibly be wrong with him?” She knows exactly what’s wrong with him, she just wants to see you squirm.

“Rob, he’s fucking sixteen.”

“And?” Max joins in.

“I’m almost twenty.” You state. That should be reason enough, but as you glance between them, they don’t look convinced. The concern on your face is evident as you say, “I am not about to be some cradle robber!”

“But he’s like,” Max pauses adding on a valley girl accent, “the hottest Junior at Hawkin’s High.”

Your face scrunches in disgust, mimicking the accent back. “Fucking, ew.”

Nancy and El giggle at the interaction.

“Okay, so you’re not into younger guys then.” Robin teases, a sparkle of mischief in her stare. “Noted.”

These girls are going to drive you into madness…

“You know what else I’m not into?” The cadence of your voice carries with a hint of amusement. “My friends desperately trying to set me up because they think I’m pathetic and lonely.”

“But you are lonely.” Is El’s retort. Three pairs of eyes widen at the remark, but not yours. El’s bluntness has never surprised you. It’s actually pretty comforting, because you know she’d never lie to you.

Nancy hisses with a whine. “El.”

You’ve been around the Wheeler’s long enough to know that Nancy was raised to be a proper young lady, one who would never dare offend anyone. That alone causes your lip to quirk in bemusement.

You chuckle, feelings quite intact. “Oh good.” Your smile is cheeky. “At least you don’t think I’m pathetic.”

“She never said she didn’t.” Max points out with a grin.

“Hilarious Maxine.” You mock a sarcastic and melodic laugh.

“I don’t think you’re pathetic.” El cuts in before Max can say anything else. “I just think you need a boyfriend.”

You have half a mind to say ‘I’ve already got one,’ but you bite your tongue.

Just like you have for the last six months.

That’s half a year of trying so hard to keep your relationship status on the down low. Because things with Steve are new, and after many years of denying any feelings towards each other, you finally decided to go for it. But, on the off chance you both found that you were better off as friends, you came to the mutual decision that waiting to tell the kids (and everyone else) was the best idea. As much as you think they’d be happy to see you two together (and boy have they pushed for it), it’s not something you’d want to get their hopes up for.

You’re serious about Steve, more serious than you’ve ever been about anyone before. As much confidence as you hold in your love for him, you know he’s serious about you too. And maybe now that you’re certain (at least on your end) that you’re both sure, you can start to tell everyone about your relationship. For tonight though, you’re going to have to continue playing the role of the lonely single.

How tragic…your mind wanders.

“Oh my god!” Nancy’s interjection catches you off guard. She’s masking her smirk well, but you can still see it. “How could I not have thought of this?”

Her surprise feels more like it’s been planned, like she’s been thinking of a way to bring whatever she’s been thinking about into the conversation without rousing too much suspicion.

“Thought of what?” Robin asks, feeding into it.

Your eyes narrow.

Nancy leans over to whisper something into her ear. The chain continues with Robin leaning in to tell Max, and Max whispering it to El, leaving you thoroughly left out.

What is she planning?

“Uh, a little inclusion might be nice.” You tutt.

Four pairs of eyes bore into you, excited smiles resting on each of their faces.

Here it comes, you think.

“All this talk of boys…” Nancy starts. “What about Steve?” She asks.

And there it is. “Guys.” You groan. “Not this again.”

“C’mon (Y/n), please?” Max’s whine is on the verge of a full on beg. “I know you’ve thought about it. We all see the way you look at each other.”

“Like I do.” El’s matter-of-factness is not so comforting in this moment. “With Mike. And Max, with Lucas.”

“Oh!” Max exclaims. “Remember when Nancy and Jonathan first got together? They were really good friends, like you and Steve.”

You take a quick glance over to Nancy who’s now gone quiet, a pink blush covering the softness of her cheeks.

“Guys. Steve and I are just that,” you eye each of them with a deep intensity, “friends.”

Nancy remembers saying the exact same thing to Murray Bauman after he’d accused her and Jonathan of suppressing their feelings.

She hadn’t quite known then how strong she felt about him, as she does now. But as she glances in your direction, she reads an expression on your face that she wasn’t expecting: guilt.

You don’t exactly look like someone who’s freaking themselves out over their newly discovered — and to everyone else, totally obvious — feelings for their best friend like she had. Instead, you look like you’ve accepted them, and more so, if Nancy is as good at reading you as she thinks she is, you look like you’re hiding something.

“You’d be perfect together.” Is one of Max’s last attempts of the night at convincing you. She only wants to see you happy. Maybe if she just pushed a little more.

Your heart wrenches at her words.

You hate lying to them, you really do. You’re almost not sure why you’re doing it anymore, but you can’t seem to stop yourself.

God, you wish a black hole would suck you into the abyss. “Max, you know that’s not how it works. You can’t decide you’re going to be with someone just because you want to be. There’s a whole other person to consider.”

“Semantics.” She puffs a breath of air, waving you off. “And not if that other person is already head over heels in love with you.”

“Max.” You warn with the tilt of your head and an extremely deep breath.

Robin jumps in, lips pulled into a cheeky grin. “I’m not hearing a no.”

If that’s what it’ll take, you think, “Then no.” You finally say.

Robin catches your gaze, her eyes softening. All hints of teasing seem to be gone. There’s no way this can mean anything good.

“I know I don’t do this often,” she starts, “but I’m going to say something in all seriousness here.”

“Please don’t.”

Robin’s unimpressed stare tells you that she’s not only going to ignore your request, but she also really means what she’s about to say. Her voice is steady and calm as she speaks, “Steve likes you.” She says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and you suppose it is. At least now.

“He’s told me. I mean, he really, really likes you… like marry you this instant, thinks about having six kids with you, likes you…” She drags the words slowly trying to emphasize her point.

You know this. But you have to play that you don’t. “Jeez, I don’t know about the six kids and the marriage part, I think you might be getting way ahead of yourself there Rob,” your voice drifts slightly. “But I’d hope that at the very least Steve likes me. It’s not like he’s one of my best friends or anything.”

Max lets out a low groan. Robin has basically confirmed that Steve (despite everyone else already knowing this) is in love with you, and you’re still refusing to acknowledge it.

It’s beyond frustrating. “You’re so hopeless.” She says.

“Am I?” You jest. As guilty as you feel, this is sort of fun for you.

“Terribly.” Is her reply.

You grin, happy to change the subject. “Can’t make things easy for you now can I?”

“We’d never expect you to.” Stormy blue orbs catch yours, a flicker of recognition flashing back to you.

There's a hint in Nancy’s voice and demeanour that tells you she knows more than she’s letting on. The look she gives you says it all: your secret’s safe with me.

You shouldn’t be surprised that she picked up on it. She’s probably known for months. Because not only does she know you and Steve better than almost anyone else, she knows exactly what Steve looks like when he’s in love.

With a soft smile falling onto your lips, you breathe a sigh of relief in the moment of brief silence that rests between you. Someone knows, and they approve. Your eyes glimmer gratefully. Thank you. Your signal is nonverbal, but she understands nonetheless.

You’re welcome.

• ж • ж • ж •

Steve wonders how you’re doing right about now. Because at the moment, he wants nothing more than to be with you, hanging out and not having to worry about keeping this a secret.

For the past hour, Dustin, Lucas, and Mike have been driving him up a wall. Susie this. El that. Max, blah blah blah.

Mike had started it all with a quick, ‘Hey Steve, why don’t you have a girlfriend?’

Then Lucas had joined in. ‘Yeah, what happened to you man? I thought you were supposed to be some kind of God or something?’

“He used to be.” Dustin had assured them. “Still is. The God’s somewhere in there.” Dustin poked at Steve’s chest. He’d seen Steve in action before, he knows the charm is real.

The pale raven haired teen beside Dustin then snorted. “Bagging my sister doesn’t count.”

Steve almost punted Mike over that one. Smug little bastard…

And that’s not even the worst of it. Steve can take the constant teasing of his romantic failures; he’s been doing that for years now, taking blow after blow to his ego. It’s Eddie’s creepy staring that’s sending him over the fucking edge. Every time he looks over, there’s Eddie, already looking at him.

Steve shudders at the thought. He can feel Munson’s pair of deep brown eyes burning holes through his back, the hairs on his neck raised in discomfort. It’s like with every breath Steve takes, Eddie is analyzing it. He’s this close to smacking Eddie upside the head and telling him to cut this shit out.

It’s only when they get a moment alone does he discover the reason for the Hellfire club leader’s strange behaviour. They stand awkwardly in Mrs. Henderson’s kitchen, fumbling for snacks for the boys when Eddie finally breaks the silence.

“So,” his smirk is apparent. Steve didn’t know someone could smile that wide. “I was thinking.”

“Ah.” Steve hums trying to settle the nervous pit in his stomach. “Is that what that was?”

Eddie chuckles. “You know what Steve-O? Just for the ‘tude, maybe I shouldn’t tell you what I was thinking…” he trails.

That’s a challenge if he’s ever heard one, and he’s not about to bite. Eddie is anything but patient.

“Fine by me.” Steve claps a hand on Eddie’s shoulder as he passes him to grab a bowl from one of Dustin’s cupboards.

Eddie’s brow raises in surprise at his response, running a hand through his curly mop of hair.“Woah, c’mon.” He moves swiftly following him. “I was only kidding! Of course I’m going to tell you.”

Steve grabs the bag of popcorn from the cupboard, and pops it into the microwave. “Alright.”

“Okay.”

A couple of moments pass before:

“So?...” Steve’s fingers drum across the countertop in anxiety.

Eddie’s eyes widen. “Oh right.” He says, watching the time tick down on the clock. “It’s more of a question really.”

Steve moves to grab the bag out of the microwave as the timer beeps. “Shoot.” He replies, gently dumping the popcorn into the big plastic bowl. He’s kind of proud of himself for keeping this calm when he feels so on edge.

“Stop me if I cross the line or anything,” That’s never a good start to a sentence…

Eddie’s voice lowers in volume, but his tone grows in confidence. There’s something else to it, amusement…satisfaction maybe, Steve can’t quite place it. But he doesn’t like it.

Amber eyes meet a honey brown. Steve’s not sure how many seconds pass before he hears Eddie say:

“How long have you and (Y/n) been fucking?”

Well, fuck.

[dearmantis]

Dried Flowers

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling x fem!Reader

Summary: After killing another person who tried to earn your hand in marriage, Aleksander finally manages to get you right where he has always wanted you.

Warning: murder, slut-shaming, blood, obsession, manipulation, dacryphilia (kind of? not sexual, he's just weird about tears??)

Word Count: 2k

Authors' Note: My ability to form sentences in English is slowly disappearing. What is grammar? I don't know anymore. What is logic? I don't know that either. I think I know nothing at all, actually. I also didn't proofread this at all and this isn't my native language, just fyi.

The blood tints the water a beautiful rose colour, similar to the petals of a flower Aleksander has seen you wear in your hair a few days ago.

He's washing his hands slowly, making sure to get every single drop off using the strongest smelling soap he owns in hopes of removing the metallic smell from his skin and a small brush to get the dried flakes out from under his nails.

His gaze moves over to the mirror, checking his shirt for blood splatter in the reflection, but he luckily finds nothing. There are some drops on his face, the red covering his cheek, nose, and parts of his forehead.

He has licked the ones that landed on his lips off a while ago, enjoying the taste of it like an expensive wine as he watched the man bleed out on the floor, his blood forming a small puddle beneath his body while his weak voice begged for mercy.

When he's sure that he got everything off his hands, he grabs a small handkerchief and dips it into the water before using it to remove the blood from his face. He has no time to waste, but he wants to make sure he looks right nonetheless.

In an hour, you will realize that your Lord Peter will not come to your planned shared breakfast. You will send servants to his room to check on him and they will discover the letter he forged, explaining how the Lord wanted to use you as a distraction after falling for a young woman in Ketterdam during his travels and recently decided that he loves her too much to stay away from her any longer.

It will break your heart, but sacrifices must be made, and breaking your heart now would be better than breaking it later after you truly lost your heart to him.

It was a shame, really. Lord Peter had been nice, one of the few nobles in Ravka who did not openly talk badly about Grisha, but Aleksander still couldn't let you marry him. No, you had to stay here, right in the Grand Palace, and Peter would've dragged you to his estate close to the border, never to be seen again.

And Aleksander needs you here. You can't leave. Ever.

After the blood is fully washed off his face he washes the handkerchief and places it on the windowsill to dry in the rising morning sun before opening the window and moving to dump the bloody water into the bed of flowers growing below.

Then he sits back down at his desk and moves to continue with todays paperwork while he waits, patient like a cat that knows that the little mouse will walk right into its mouth.

An hour later you are sitting on his lap, hands tightly holding onto his kefta while he uses the handkerchief he used to remove the blood from his face to dry your tears, carefully dabbing the soft, freshly washed fabric against your skin.

"I just don't understand why this keeps happening." He hears you whisper under your breath, his eyes still focused on the tears rolling down your cheeks. You look so beautiful when you cry. Ethereal. Magical. "Why am I never enough? Why not?"

He can feel a painful pinch in his heart when he hears your words. It's not you who isn't good enough for them. They aren't good enough for you.

You, his beautiful little Princess who boldly stands up for his Grisha and gets harassed with horrible rumours in return. Who gets shamed and threatened and withstands it all despite your softness, like a wild flower surviving the most destructive storms.

"She's under the Darklings spell."

"Nobody wants to marry her except the General and now she defends him to make sure he doesn't loose interest."

"The poor girl is being manipulated by him. He uses her as a shield to protect the Grisha and the stupid thing is too blind to see it."

"He must've fucked his magic into her and it scrambled her mind."

So much gossip surrounds you, but you never complain. You don't even mention what they say about you, probably fearing that he will distance himself from you as well after finding out how people talk about you. That the last friend you have left will leave, unwilling to have his reputation ruined even more.

But he would never leave you. In Aleksanders eyes, you're the only honourable otkazat'sya currently alive in all of Ravka. He will do everything in his power to make sure you stay right here with him and influence politics further. You're a sensible person. Good. Kind. And you work hard to make sure people understand and respect the way you see the world. You fight for change.

So you have to stay right here with him.

"You're more than enough." He answers softly, dropping the handkerchief onto the sofa next to you before his hands move up to cup your face, making sure you're looking him in the face and see the truth in his eyes.

"You are so much better than anyone in Ravka understands. You have a soft, caring heart, and those who do not understand it see it as weakness. But I understand. I understand your strength."

Every single word that falls from his lips is calculated, his voice soft and kind in hopes of making you more susceptible to him.

"And you understand me. You understand how I see the world. What needs to change to make sure Grisha and otkazat'sya can live together in peace. You are perfect."

You don't understand him, not yet, at least, but you will. He will make sure of it. You will understand it all. His little flower.

He lets his hands move down to your waist, and your head immediately drops to rest on his shoulder, your face pressing into his neck.

"Why can't I just marry you..." Aleksander hears you murmur, almost entirely soundless, and he has to fight the smirk trying to find its way onto his lips.

"What was that?"

An embarrassed whimper leaves your lips, a sweet, pathetic sound that he would love to hear forever. "Forget it."

"No, no. Come on, don't be shy." Aleksander encourages, carefully drawing circles on your back while you press your face closer to his neck.

"It's stupid."

The Shadow Summoner doesn't respond, instead choosing to simply wait until you manage to collect enough confidence to repeat and explain yourself. You need to make this step on your own.

"My father will not stop until I'm married. He will continue to set me up with new people in hopes of marrying me off to get me out of the Palace."

You lift your head to look into his face, probably fearing that he won't understand you if you keep whispering against his neck, forcing you to repeat this whole thing a third time.

"And the people he chooses will continue to run away from me. Even the nicest people leave me behind and instead pick a different fate for themselves. For some reason, everyone seems to agree that marrying me is not worth it, a destiny too cruel to live through. No one ever stays with me. No one except you."

New tears sparkle in your eyes, and Aleksander decides it's the most beautiful sight he has ever had the privilege of witnessing. When you cry, all of your emotions are so visible in your eyes. You hide nothing, the mask that all nobles in Ravka wear washed away by the tears rolling down your face. The fact that you trust him to see all of your vulnerability and weakness fills him with glee.

"So I thought that maybe... maybe it would be an option for us to marry."

Before Aleksander gets the chance to respond, you begin talking once more, making it clear to him that you will probably start rambling.

"Of course, that's stupid. We're friends, and I really don't want to ruin this, and I know that I just did that by mentioning that I think we should marry, and I'm really sorry. It's pathetic and honestly disrespectful to you to ask you to marry me just because I'm sick of being alone and I'm pretty sure my father wouldn't even allow it so we would have to do it in secret which isn't fair to you and I-"

He cuts you off by carefully touching your face once more, willing his gaze to soften. He needs to at least pretend to be vulnerable right now to fully get you where he wants you to be.

"It would be an honour to marry you, moya tsarevna. It doesn't matter if in secret or in front of all of Ravka. You are my best friend, and it would be a privilege to be tied to you legally and free you from this constant pain of losing every person you get close to in the same breath."

Leaning forward, he presses his forehead against yours, hoping that the physical proximity will make him seem more honest than he truly is.

"But I don't want you to marry me just because you fear that you will end up alone. I want you to decide for yourself that you want a future with me. One where we can fight side by side for Grisha and Otkazat'sya to live in harmony."

He would marry you right now if you simply ask him. It's the ideal end to his plan, after all. If you were married to him, he wouldn't have to keep killing all of your friends and possible marriage candidates because you would already be tied to him and the Little Palace. You could never leave. You would be here with him forever.

Or, well... until you died from old age. But that's a problem he can solve, he's sure of it. He will make sure his little flower will live on and continue fighting with him. You're part of this eternal battle now, and he will not let you escape it though something like death.

It really doesn't matter why you want to marry him, but it would make the future easier for him and yourself if you simply learned to love him romantically. You'd also probably be more likely to forgive him for the more controversial ideas he has if your heart is full with love for him. As much as he wants to grab you and drag you over to a church to get it over with, he needs to be patient.

The end is in sight, there is no reason to rush things and risk mistakes later. This is the foundation for a bright future.

The worst thing that could happen is that you choose to wait and get to know another Lord who your father wants you to marry.

Another person for Aleksander to kill.

And then, when his dead body slowly starts to decompose in the flowerbeds of the Little Palace alongside the other people he has killed for this, you will find your way back into his arms for comfort and decide that you will marry him. There's no reason to force you to marry him now.

"I would love to be married to you, General. It would be an honour for me as well. You are a great general and an even greater man. I respect you more than anyone else. I promise it's not just because I fear to disappoint my family and end up alone. I have always admired your protective and caring nature, and I genuinely believe that you could be a great husband. One that I can easily love."

He moves your face back to the crook of his neck, his arms wrapping around your waist and pressing you tightly against his body. He can't hide the wide grin on his face.

The mouse walked into the cats open mouth. You are his.

[gatorbites-imagines]

I'm so sorry if you were not mental prepared for this info during your spiderman brainrot..

But, fun fact with a lot of spiders their mating rituals have the male lay down a "spermweb" to attract mates. As well as fear is a big part of what turns them on, female spiders being 2x the size of males, tending to have the dominant role. Pinning is also a big part of it as well. (Male spiders actually tend to be much more skishes.)

So imagine your spiderman of choice being in mating season, with a mix of these feelings due to them being half spider. Them making a den like structure with every blanket in their apartment, being very timid wanting to hide, because of how embrassing these feelings and thoughts are to them. But getting so unbelievably horny at the thought of you pinning them down in their den and fucking them until they see stars. You being extremely rough with them, them wanting you to mark up their entire body.

Them trying to get themselves off, and trying not to give into the urge to text/call you begging for you to comeover.

Ben Reilly x male reader

Headcanons

Hallo everynyan. I am not dead, I just have felt the worst case of writers block I’ve had in a while. Trying to get myself out of this funk, so here’s something about Ben Reilly, as I haven’t seen a single x male reader about him.

You and Ben would have been dating for a while before his heat hits him, leaving him scrambling through his apartment to start gathering blankets and other materials he can use to make a structure.

It’s not fully a nest, its more like a pillow and blanket fort, closed off from the outside world. There’s webs all over it too, almost like Ben was marking his territory, or some animalistic part of himself was saying “hey, this is mine, back off”-

Ben would shoot off a text to his earths Peter, since they most likely work side by side, that he needs his patrol covered for personal reasons. Seeing as peter has heats as well, he understands and wishes Ben luck, offering to bring him stuff he needs.

After calling around with his job and getting his shifts covered, Ben would settle down into the structure, antsy and oh so uncomfortable in his skin. He would feel almost naked without you there, without your weight holding him down and your hands touching him.

Ben would never have told you about his heats if you weren’t another spider as they embarrass him so greatly, because they reduce him to a limp submissive mess. Normally he can just ride it out, but now that you two are dating his thoughts are filled with images of you, what he wants you to do to him, and how he wants you to do it.

He would wrap himself in the clothes you left at his apartment, his heightened senses letting him inhale your scent as he touches himself almost desperately.

It’s nowhere near enough without you there, but Ben is too proud to contact you. So it would end up with Ben laying there curled up in a ball, his fingers pumping in and out of himself as he listens to recording of you on his phone, be it voicemails or videos you two have taken.

If he has any pictures of you that show off your strength in any way, you bet he’s looking at those two. Think gym selfies, you hiking, you fixing a car, anything along those lines. It gets so bad that he busts just looking at a picture of you carrying 4 bags of heavy groceries on one arm.

After that shameful orgasm Ben realizes he probably won’t be able to do this without you, as the soul deep urge to be held and used by you grows by the day. In one of his less lucid and weaker moments he would send you a fumbled text before passing out.

When he wakes up you are there with him and taking care of him. Ben would try to play it off and stay cool, but he feels more submissive and meeker than usual, struggling to meet your eyes and lowering his head when you look at him.

You most likely contacted Peter for help, fearing Ben was dying or had been poisoned or something like that. When you learn it’s a spider heat, you are surprised but you would never leave Ben for something as small as that, you just wished he’d have told you before.

Ben would hesitate to let you help in the beginning, but soon the need for you, your power, your dominance, would break down his walls. He would follow orders so well, wanting nothing more than for you to tell him what to do.

He would burst immediately the first time you pin him down by the neck, his entire body locking up as he wails in pleasure, twitching and gasping. After that you’d take care of him, cleaning him up, and lay down on top of him as he slept.

Having you lay on top of him like a blanket help settle that deep urge inside him that he needs you there, and it tells his animal brain that you are watching out for him and protecting him as he sleeps.

After the heat is over you can expect Ben to be more open about his wants and needs, though he is still a little flustered about him. He’s still an overconfident guy, showing off and flexing his muscles at you, but he also wants to please you, and he melts under any and all praise you give him.

[weebsinstash]

Ok so tmi (on the tmi blog lol) but the first day of my Cycle I had a dream that I had just given birth and I was holding my baby and I was goddamn euphoric even though the logical part of me was like “???? I am 22 and broke i CANNOT have a baby rn” and I woke up crying and called my friends like I WANNA HAVE A BAAAAAABYYYYY I WANT A BAAAAAAABYYYYYYYY so basically. Imagine. Miguel catches you in a moment of weakness. And he NEVER. FUCKING. FORGETS IT.

Oh wow girlie those period hormones grabbed you by the uterus and absolutely REFUSED to let go

NO BUT FOR REAL don't look at me but I've been thinking of a concerning number of ideas where it's like, "Reader suddenly realizes they may want a baby and is actually putting serious thought into it and Miguel finds out (bet your ass Peter B tells him, i can see him as a "well intentioned" platonic guardian/mentor figure who sells you out to Miguel the second he thinks you're doing something risky or he thinks it's for your own good) and Miguel starts making all these plans and preparations behind your back to have a baby with you" and obviously I like the extra juicy option of "he found out you got extremely depressed and tied your tubes or something because you either see no point in you having a kid/think it's too late, OR, Miguel was the only person you were looking at as a potential father and you either decide it wouldn't work out or he does something to hurt you and you lose trust in him" so like, the double whammy combo of him being hit with the news you basically walled off your fertility that he's kinda fantasizing about AND you blame him for it

You see him chokeslam Miles on the train and having all these serious anger and stress issues and you're like "hmmmm don't like that" and basically make the tubal ligation appointment that week (but, you know, he'll either interfere before you can actually get it or even reverse it later on)

Like. Ugh I'm not sure if I should go super into detail bc I feel like I want to put this scene in the YouTwo fic or in a different idea i have thats more centered around motherhood, but, picture he catches you in his monitor room one day after you've lost your home dimension, you're having a little more than just a small identity crisis, and he catches you having Lyla show you the model for your life, or what the algorithm had predicted your life was supposed to be like before your universe just magically poofed away. You're just staring at these holograms with tears running down your face and he occasionally catches you starting to reach out like you want to touch what you see. He comes to stop you because he already knows all too well where this could lead, you can't become tempted to break canon and go somewhere else, but you beg him to let you watch just a little longer

"I was supposed to get MARRIED! I was supposed to have a BABY! I was supposed to have a family!! It's not fair!!"

And he's in total agreement with you because, who even fucking knows why your universe suddenly destabilized and vanished. He sees you as this person who has so much promise and potential who had their destiny and future literally snatched away from them and now you're lost and confused on what you're supposed to do, like really he totally understands why you feel so aimless. But watching these holograms is like torturing yourself, and he goes to stop you when you just keep crying because this is basically sending you into a critical mental health episode

"Someone was supposed to fall in love with me... we were supposed to have a baby... would I have been a good mom? Would I have had a boy or a girl? Cant you at least let me find out what my daughter's name would have been?"

And it's like NOOOO you can't hit him with the daughter card, don't you see what you've DONE!!! Gets him right in the heart. Now he's got this massive soft spot for you, bigger than it already was anyways, and he can tell over time you're just really starting to, grieve the future you were supposed to have, falling into a depression. Peter B is hanging around with Mayday like he usually does as both men can tell you're really staring at his baby today and he offers to teach you how to hold her. you're standing there misty eyed twirling one of her little curls around your finger as her dad starts volunteering information to you, "you know she's about XYZ months old now, they aren't really talking yet at this age but they're really curious about their surroundings and--"

Miguel watches as you start talking about children and suddenly get this really really tortured expression and just say "it's not meant to happen" and or some combination of "it's too late for me" and gives him his baby back a little too quickly in typical "I am clearly leaving the room to go cry" fashion. Meanwhile Peter B is like 38 wondering why you think you're out of time or it's not supposed to happen

Miguel's working one day and Peter is trying to shove his phone in his face, "you know I think this is one of the BEST photos of Mayday I've ever taken, she's looking so cute here, you just GOTTA see it" and Pete just won't let up and Miguel finally looks just to humor him because the man is being unusually annoying and, it's a photo of Mayday, duh, but being held by you, and you're clearly looking down at her with watering eyes and the smallest little smile that says "I'll die for you" and Peter is just all 😏 as Miguel is 'suddenly' interested in the photo. "That's a really good photo of MAYDAY, right? 😏 I figured you would like it, that photo of MAYDAY 😏" and Miguel is just grumbling and grouchy bc he sees what this guy is tryna do, but he's still like ".... send it to me later, I'm trying to work right now"

It's even worse if you're a member of his strike force because you're constantly around him, Peter B, and Jess. Miguel just, idly wondering where you are and deciding to walk around a little bit and eventually finds that you're having some sort of conversation with Peter B and Jess and he can tell you look really weepy as the other woman invites you to feel her baby kicking, like, you could not more obviously be developing baby fever, and you ARE around that age, and ESPECIALLY if you live in Nueva York because it's like, YEAH you're still a Spider and YEAH you help the Society with stuff but. Your home universe is gone, your canon is gone, you're kind of. Free as a bird really? But you're also scared because, if someone was destined to love you, does that mean it technically isn't meant to be to fall for anyone else? You can't exactly hook up with people at the Spider Society because of canon or them already having relationships, and you don't exactly have identifying documents if you wanted to try and adopt

I think it'd really reach a stressful breaking point if you and the strike force go to another universe to fight an anomaly and Miguel catches you staring out into the crowd of people you just saved and he sees what youre looking at instantly and his heart sinks. Another you, another normal you, never bitten by a Spider, is standing there with her husband and her little sputtering baby, and he has to all but drag you away as you cry "it's not fair, it's not fair, why does SHE get a normal life!!"

Sidebar for a moment, I think that's probably also one thing that would be so INFURIATING about the doppelganger stealing your life story because THEY have a home universe and YOU don't. They take your life, they take literally everything you have left, your friends, your sense of community, your literal purpose. I've already decided on YTs motivations but could you imagine you finding out YouTwo actually has a decent life and maybe even a husband and kid of their own and you're just furious because they're basically abandoning their duties back home not only as a Spider but as a parent/spouse to steal what YOU have? You can't kill them because it would break their canon and kill like countless people but Miguel and the others would def let you beat the shit out of your evil double and get some of your anger out. Like. Jesus could you imagine Miguel kicks you out thinking you're the fake and after you're gone, YouTwo breaks canon and that's what exposes them, or theyre exposed when they eventually take a trip back home and get caught. The Society's regret, the guilt, the anger, just marinate me with the drama

But anyways back to Being Sad and Babycrazy, you go missing one day and Miguel has to decide what to do when he finally tracks your bracelet and you're back in THAT dimension again. He has to physically track you down using your bracelet's signal because you refuse to answer his messages and you're, in the home of the other you while she takes a brief nap, in the nursery, holding her baby. Miguel quietly climbs through the window and you're in a rocking chair and you've got her hugged to your chest and your eyes are closed and you sense him and, obviously cry because you know you have to leave. Unlike with the holograms he doesn't give you any leeway on this, putting his foot down that this has to end here, this cant go on, this is already so dangerous. And, you're good for him and understand, leaving the baby back in its crib as you and Miguel warp away. You're heartbroken but ultimately understanding when he has to disable your watch's ability to visit that specific dimension again, and you're obviously extremely depressed for a while, having multiple Spiders coming to check in on you as word spreads around that you aren't doing well

I can just see Reader becoming kind of desperate because the only options for a baby you really have left is to either 1. get a serious relationship, which you're scared of because you have to trust that person and who can you even pick, you're nervous about breaking canon or something, or 2. Get some random person to impregnate you so you can run off with the baby

Miguel gets a call from Peter B that you went to a bar and you're EXTREMELY wasted as you try to pick someone, ANYONE up and like, you have admirers for sure but there's enough decent people around to keep the creeps in line, clearly you are in a vulnerable state of mind right now, and Miguel gets to tote your drunken ass back home as you drunkenly word vomit all your feelings to him because, unfortunately for you, he has your trust, and you need comfort right now, and you even ask him about what being a parent was like for him. You encouragingly tell him he shouldn't give up if he still wants kids, you trying to be genuinely nice and not trying to imply anything, blubbering about how he deserves to still be happy and he's still got time, and here's Miguel who's practically tracking your cycles at this point, TOTALLY not going to use anything you say to him while you're piss-drunk against you

Especially if you add ABO into the mix and you have a Miguel who's either Alpha/Omega and is already babycrazy af and he sees you literally fucking YEARNING for it, like. You've got a 6'9" Alpha basically looking at you, his poor lil Omega crush, with the big yandere goo goo eyes and how you need all this love and support and stability and how you're in need of a proper husband and of course he's all too willing to volunteer himself for the job. Even if he's too awkward to come right out to you and say it, he'll be thinking in his head and planning behind your back ways to take care of you, keep you away from any drugs/alcohol (no more smoking weed with metro boomin Spiderman, you've gotta detox your body to have a baby! Also, different concept but, Miguel basically keeping you in a bubble to control all your meals and recreational activities and all of that so he can make sure you're perfectly healthy for a baby)

Don't let this man catch you slipping up! Throw you to the Spider Society and you'll come back pregnant 😭 he sees you so depressed and wanting a baby and it's like well, if your life needs new meaning, he can help literally make one for you 😏 he's been feeling protective and nurturing of you anyways, so, it's an extra benefit for him to think of getting to have both you AND a little baby of your very own ❤️