Mylovemylovemylovemylo - From My Bedroom To Yours

𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Part One

Pairing: Inexperienced!Bruce Wayne (The Batman 2022) x (female) Reader

Summary: you and Bruce and been friends since childhood, meaning you’re the one he usually comes to for help after a rough night of seeking vengeance around Gotham City. One night Bruce reveals more than he means to; just how sexually inexperienced he is. You, being the good friend that you are, offer to help in that area…

Warnings: bit of fluff, lil bit of angst, smut, soft dom reader I guess? sub!Bruce, praise kink, fingering, penetrative sex (m+f), minors DNI

A/N: yeah so this is based off the headcanon that (Pattinson’s) Bruce Wayne is a virgin, as soon as I saw that idea I was like um yeah I can see it and then I just had to write something for it! So here we are, my first writing for Bruce Wayne, I hope you guys enjoy😘🖤

Also sorry this is quite long, I really just ran with it lmao

Read Part Two

This is for people 18+ only. Minors do not read on. If you click ‘keep reading’ you are hereby agreeing that you are 18 or older.

It had been a night like any other; Bruce calling upon you to help patch him up after a night of running around Gotham City as The Batman. Tonight he wasn’t injured as badly as he usually was. His torso was mostly just bruised in various areas, there was only one cut across his bicep that really need any tended to. He was sat on the exquisite table where Alfred usually did all his paperwork. If he could see the two of you now, bloody bandages laid across the expensive mahogany, he’d have a fit.

You’d both been drinking a bit when the revelation had suddenly slipped from Bruce.

You’d made some offhand joke about how women must fall at his feet, both as The Batman and as Bruce Wayne. You’d made a small, slightly jealous, dig at how many women he’d slept with.

But, to your surprise, he’d mumbled an awkward response telling you that, in fact, he’d never slept with anyone, let alone a whole hoard of women.

“Oh come on” you say now. “You can’t tell me bat boy has never touched a woman” you chuckle lightly. “I find that hard to believe” you laugh to yourself again.

Bruce’s jaw locks, the muscles jumping in his cheeks. His eyes retain their glare, but their focus shifts away from you and to the floor.

That’s when the realisation hits you.

“Oh shit” you scoff quietly. “Really? Millionaire playboy Bruce? The Batman? The terror and vengeance of Gotham City? Is… a virgin?”

He continues to sit there; his silence is somehow swallowing the whole room.

“Well well well, that’s quite the revelation” you hum, smirking.

“I’m not in the mood for your teasing tonight, y/n” he sighs gruffly, jumping off the table before heading past you towards the door.

“Wait” you grab his arm, careful not to touch where you’d just bandaged up his small wound.

He stops, his face turning to look at where your hand lay on his bicep. His eyes then shift back up to meet yours, his gaze just as hard as ever.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tease” you tell him sincerely. “I was just… taken aback slightly” you shrug.

He continues to look at you, his mouth pressed into a hard line. For a moment you just stare back into his eyes. Something in the air changes, an electricity crackling through the room, around the two of you. The hair on the back of your neck stands up and a small shiver runs down your spine as the two of you look at each other.

Something comes over you, a kind of tender confidence; a want, a need, to have Bruce touch you, for you to touch him. You couldn’t deny the satisfied pleasure that already sat in your stomach at the idea of being Bruce’s first time, being the one to teach him all the ways of sin; to have that kind of control and power over The Batman? You were already wet at the thought.

Bruce’s gaze quickly flickering to your lips and back again was the final nail in the coffin for you.

You swallow the last bit of nerves that sit in your stomach and look at Bruce determinedly.

“Do you want to?” You whisper.

A flash of uncertainty sweeps across Bruce’s eyes.

“Do you want to... to touch a woman? To touch... me?” Your voice is barley audible, your words slow and deliberate as you try to gauge his reaction, attempting to read his impossible face.

You swear under the hard gaze you see something like fear flicker in his uncertainty.

“Do you want me... to teach you?” You ask gently, staring to rub your thumb across his bicep where your hand still rested.

He doesn’t answer, just continues to stare at you so intently you think he can see right into your skull. The electricity crackles in the air again, like the air around you is tightening, pressing you closer to him.

His eyes flick to your mouth again, lingering a fraction longer before he meets your gaze again, something like an unsure apology now in his eyes.

His eyes stay on yours even as you slowly lean forwards, pushing up on your tiptoes, to angle your face just an inch away from his. You stop for a second, your mouth so close to his you can feel his warm breath ghosting over your lips. You stop to assess his face one more time. His face is as unreadable as always, but being friends with him all your life meant you’d learned to read his eyes instead, read them the way no one else could.

You see the uncertainty and fear still, but beyond that you see a kind of curiosity, a want.

You finally push up the final inch to press your lips against his. He freezes beneath you for a second, but you persist gently. You press your mouth against his again, slightly firmer now, and this time you feel him tentatively respond. His lips purse to meet yours, no longer remaining passive in this kiss; his lips slowly but surely start to actively move with yours.

His lips are ever so slightly dry and cracked, exactly how you’d expected them to be, but you didn’t mind, regardless, they felt incredible against the softness of your own lips; their rough texture only added to the sensation of the kiss.

You tentatively reach up your other hand, slipping it behind Bruce’s head, gently pulling at the hair on his nape. A tiny groan escapes him, causing you to smirk into the kiss.

You twist your body to stand in front of him, pushing your body against his, your other hand moving from his bicep to join the hand that was playing with his hair.

Your tiny gasp gets lost in the kiss when you feel his lightly shaking hands find their way to your waist. His hands rest lightly on your body. You can still feel the uncertainty radiating from him. You silently encourage him by pushing your body flush against his, you clothed chest colliding with his bare one, your hips brushing against his, his thick belt digging into you.

He groans again, louder now, as he feels the warmth of your body against his. You take advantage of his groan, opening his mouth with your own, quickly darting your tongue into his mouth. You feel his fingers dig into you briefly as your tongue collides with his.

His hands are still tentative as they start to roam your body, running up and down your waist, almost going to the curve of your ass before he pulls back and lands on your waist once again.

You could almost roll your eyes. This fearless man who jumps off buildings, dives headfirst into danger almost every night, dances with criminals frequently, this man, was afraid to touch your ass.

You break the kiss for a second, leaning back slightly to look at him. He stares right back at you, his eyes just as wild as his hair where you’d mussed it up with your fingers.

“Touch me” you breathe against his lips.

He looks at you quizzically.

You keep your eyes on him as you whip your shirt off, tossing it to the side. You hadn’t been wearing a bra so your chest was now as bare as his.

“Touch me” you repeat, grabbing his hands and placing them on your breasts.

Bruce’s mouth hangs open in surprise but you capture his lips with yours again before he has the chance to overthink.

It was your turn to moan into the kiss as you revel in the feeling of Bruce’s hands on your tits. His hands are cold, causing a shiver to run through your body, goosebumps raising on your skin. You can feel your nipples harden under his touch and you arch your back slightly, pushing into his palms. Bruce’s touch is soft and gentle, taking his time as he palms your breasts, softly kneading your skin.

When you moan and buck into his touch again he seems to gain some more confidence, his hands moving to pinch your nipples between his fingers. You gasp softly, the cold of his fingers on your nipples almost taking you off guard. This time Bruce takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue breaching your mouth, sliding languidly over yours.

After a moment he breaks the kiss. His mouth hangs open as he looks at you, revelling at the sight of your bare chest against his. Your breaths are mixing as you both breathe heavy, recovering from the kiss.

“I- I- want to touch you...” he stammers through his ragged breathing.

You cock your head at him in response.

“More” he breathes. “I want to touch you... more."

You smile at him softly, kissing him tenderly once more. You then grab his hand and lead him over to the impressive couch that sat in front of the even more impressive fire place. You push him down gently until he’s sat down on the couch.

“You sure about this?” You ask him gently.

He nods.

“Are you?” He asks, again that uncertainty sits behind his eyes.

You smile reassuringly at him.

“Yes, I’m sure."

He nods again.

You keep your eyes on him as you slowly shimmy out of your skirt and panties, leaving you completely naked in front of Bruce. You hear his sharp intake of breath as he observes you, his eyes drinking in every beautiful inch of you. There’s warmth on your skin, both from the fire burning behind you, and from Bruce’s gaze.

You take the few steps towards Bruce and carefully climb over his lap, swinging your legs to rest on either side of him. You push up on your knees so your ass is hovering in the air, just above where you could already see his bulge growing. His hands instinctively land on your hips. His touch is soft and unsure but you smiled to yourself that he’d taken even just that step by himself.

You grab his right hand with your left, bringing it up to place a soft kiss to his knuckles. You then trail his hand down your body, down between the valley of your breasts, down your stomach, until you reached your pubic bone. You look up at him again to find him completely entranced by your actions, his eyes fixed on where your hand was guiding him.

“When you touch a woman, you need to make sure she’s nice and wet first” you whisper, your breath ghosting over his face.

You then adjust your hold on his hand so that he had just two fingers sticking out. You then take his hand lower, pushing his two fingers between your folds. You run his fingers through your folds, brushing them up and down your slit a few times, collecting the wetness that had already pooled there. You gasp lightly each time his fingers glide across your clit.

“You feel that? You feel how wet I am for you?” You hum.

Bruce lets out something like a choked groan as he nods again. His eyes, however, never leave where his fingers were lost between your thighs. You rub his fingers up and down your slit a few more times before speaking again.

“Most women get pleasure from their clit rather than internal stimulation like penetration, me included, so that’s where you wanna focus most of your attention, okay?” You tell him softly.

Now he looks up at you again, something helpless and lost in his eyes that almost makes you want to giggle from how absurdly innocent and cute it is.

You deliberately smile warmly and reassuringly at him, placing a quick kiss to the tip of his nose.

You move his hand again until his fingers brush against your clit again. You gasp again and your body instinctively bucks into his touch.

“There. You feel that?” You moan softly.

“Yes” he breathes quietly.

“That’s what you wanna focus on. Just rub it gently, in small circles. Like this” you whisper as you start to help move his fingers on your clit.

You let out a quiet content sigh as you feel his fingers begin to circle your small bud of nerves. His fingers are still cold, sending more shivers down your spine, but again, it only adds to the feeling; it’s not exactly unpleasant.

It doesn’t take Bruce long at all to figure the motion out for himself, his fingers working of their own accord against your clit.

“Oh shit, yes. Just like that Bruce” you moan softly.

You retract your hand, letting him work you on his own. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, steadying yourself as your hips involuntarily begin to rock, grinding your cunt against his fingers.

“A lil faster” you whine into the crook of his neck. “Please” you add softly as you begin to pepper small kisses across his skin.

He groans and leans his head back, letting you have better access to his throat as you assault his skin with kisses. He quickly obliges your request, speeding up his circle motion. You moan into his neck, your hips starting to grind even harder to match his speed.

“Yes, yes” you sigh encouragingly. “You’re being so good for me” you praise him as you continue to kiss him.

You’re almost surprised by how good he is off the bat, circling your clit expertly, with a steady and unchanging pace.

“More” you whisper. “Faster.”

You feel more than see him nod this time, his fingers immediately obeying your instruction again, taking his speed up a notch once again. You moan louder now, feeling that familiar burn begin to build in the pit of your stomach.

“Shit yes” you sigh. “I’m close. Just keep going baby, don’t stop. Please don’t stop” you whine.

“Wait” he says suddenly, his other hand reaching up to gently grab your jaw, lifting you up to look at him.

“I want to watch” he mumbles softly. “I want to see your face as you... as you...” he trails off.

You kiss him, cutting off his small ramble. You then sit up again and nod, letting him know it was okay for him to watch as he made you cum.

You do your best to keep your eyes open and on his but you almost couldn’t help letting them shut as you get lost in the pleasure of his fingers on you.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes...” you sigh under your breath as you finally feel yourself brought to the edge of pleasure, your core tightening and ready to snap.

“Oh fuck, Bruce” you cry, your head tossed back as your orgasm crashes over you.

You body convulses slightly as you rock desperately against his hand, riding out your high. You hear a deep groan rumble through Bruce’s chest as he takes in the sight of you on top of him, losing yourself to the pleasure that he’d provided for you. He keeps up his circling motion, even after you’d milked as much of your orgasm as you could. Your body shudders and lurches away from his touch as you feel yourself get sensitive.

“Okay, stop, stop” you whine quietly, grabbing onto his forearm.

He stops his movements immediately, panic settling in his eyes.

“Sorry” he stammers quickly. “Did I do something wrong?” His voice almost sounds pained.

You shake your head softly, leaning forwards to place your forehead on his.

“No, no. You did amazing. It’s just, we can get a bit sensitive after we’ve orgasmed” you pant. “I just need a few minutes before we can start up again, okay?”

He nods again. “So... what... what do we... what do I do in the mean-"

“Just keep kissing me” you cut him off, grabbing his face in your hands and crashing your lips against his again.

He groans as you catch him off guard, his body freezing momentarily before he leans into your touch again. His lips move in synch with yours, the two of you learning each other’s mouths quickly. His hands move back to your hips, his grip stronger and more sure now, like seeing how good he’d made you feel had given him some confidence.

Now you can feel his hips buck instinctively as he desperately seeks some friction, rutting his hardened cock against the strain of his thick trousers. You smirk against his lips again as you feel the need radiating off him.

You let one hand move from his cheek back to the nape of his neck, tugging on his hair again now that you knew he seemed to like that. Your other hand trails down his body until you reach the thick belt of his trousers. You quickly undo his belt, unzipping his trousers, and begin to palm his cock over his underwear. He groans again as you cup his aching cock, feeling where his precum had left a tiny wet patch on his boxers.

You keep kissing him even as his mouth starts to lose focus, his mind getting lost in the feeling of your hands sneaking under his waistband and finally grabbing his dick in your hand. You bite his bottom lip, tugging on it as you lean back slightly again to look at him, releasing his lip when he lets out a slight hiss.

You keep your eyes on his face, even as his gaze travels down again to watch as you pull his cock free from the restraints of his pants. A curse mixed with a groan escapes him as you slowly start to pump him with your hand, running your fingers over his tip, collecting his precum, using it help your hand slide up and down his length. You can feel in your hand just how big he is, bigger than you’d imagined him to be. You join Bruce in looking down at your movements, letting out a moan yourself when you take in the sight of him.

Bruce’s hips rut up into your hand, small groans mixing with his panting breath as you work your hand over him.

“That feel good baby?” You start to kiss over his cheek, over his jaw, peppering him with your lips.

He nods and whines a quiet “y-yes.”

You hum an acknowledgment against his skin.

“Now,” you whisper against the shell of his ear, “you need to help stretch me open a lil bit before you get inside me, okay?” You tell him gently.

He turns his head to look at you quizzically. You smile again at his almost innocent eyes. Somehow so innocent and unknowing despite you having your hand still wrapped his cock and the fact that he’d just made you cum harder than any other guy had and he wasn’t even inside you yet.

You kiss his cheek again as you use your free hand to grab one of his and drag it once again towards your core. You smile softly at him as you once again push two of his fingers through your wet folds. This time, when he reaches your entrance, you help curl and push those two fingers inside you.

You moan and arch forward into his chest instinctively, your body leaning into his touch.

“That’s it, push your fingers in deeper” you tell him as you let go of his hand, leaving him to his own devices.

Your hand once again finds purchase on his shoulder, holding yourself upright. He obeys your instruction, slowly and tentatively pushing his two fingers as deep as they could go inside you. Both of you moan as he does so.

He looks up at you with that wonderful look of quizzical innocence again, his eyes silently asking you if he was doing this right. You move your hand from his shoulder to his cheek, rubbing over his cheekbone with your thumb.

“You’re doing so good baby” you tell him. “Now move your fingers, scissor them for a bit to stretch me open. Then curl them forwards, that usually feels quite good for us.”

Again, he nods and obeys your words quickly. He’s surprisingly gentle and tender in his actions, scissoring his fingers open slowly, giving you time to open up on his hand. After a short while you begin grinding into his hand, your pussy already aching for another release. Bruce takes initiative this time, taking it upon himself to switch tactics and begin curling his fingers forwards inside you.

You gasp, something akin to a squeak escaping you as he lightly brushes against that sweet spot inside you.

“That’s it Bruce, you’re doing so well” you whisper, your voice cracking with pleasure as he repeats his action.

Your reactions and your praise encourages him, he starts to curl and pump his fingers a bit faster inside you, working with you as you buck and grind against his hand. Your heavy breathing is mixing as you both watch each other get lost to pleasure as you each work the other with your hands.

Bruce let’s out something like as strangled groan and suddenly it hits you how close he is. You quickly retract your hand, leaving him groaning in frustration and throwing his head back, his hips bucking up into nothing.

“Patience babyboy” you kiss his neck again. “I’ll let you finish, don’t worry. I just want you do it inside me” you hum.

His moan gets lodged in his throat at that proposition. You keep peppering his neck and jaw with kisses as you gently guide his hand away from you, his fingers slipping out of you. He lets you place his hand on your waist once again.

You move you lips back to his once more, kissing him roughly for a moment before you pull away.

“You ready?” You ask him gently.

In a surprising moment of tenderness from Bruce, he reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing over your cheek gently. He nods firmly to answer your question before he takes it upon himself to lean forwards and kiss you, wrapping his arms around your back and pulling you close against him, your chest colliding with his.

You moan into each other’s mouths, the two of you getting taken over by a kind of frenzy, a sudden urge to just be as close as possible. The kiss leaves you dizzy and breathless, making you sit back to catch your breath. Bruce looks at you, his mouth hanging open, his eyes glazed over with lust, his pupils blown in the dim light of the room.

You keep your eyes locked together again as you reach between your bodies, your hand once again finding his aching cock. You grab it gently and move your hips to align yourself with him, letting the head of his cock brush through your wet folds.

You give him a last questioning nod, checking in with him one last time.

He nods back.

And you finally sink down onto his cock.

He whimpers as he feels the warm wetness of your cunt wrap around him, his voice cracks and his groan gets lodged in his throat.

“Fuck” he murmurs under his breath, his eyes squeezing shut, a hiss sounding from his mouth as you take him to the hilt inside you.

You moan loudly at the delicious stretch of him. His thick cock just made you feel so full. Bruce shifts his hips under you, desperate for you to start moving.

He’d been so good for you so far, obeying your every instruction. You decide to take mercy on him, on you both. You start to rock your hips slowly, taking the time to roll your hips against his. He groans again and his fingers dig into the flesh of your back. He starts to match your rhythm, bucking his hips softly up into you.

The room is filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing, the wet sound of his cock lost inside you, your moans, and behind it all, the quiet and steady crackle of the fire behind you.

“Fuck” Bruce curses under his breath again. “You feel incredible” he grunts, his fingers digging harder into the flesh of your hips.

You can feel his body trembling under you and know that it won’t be long until he cums.

“Remember what I said about women not finishing from penetration alone?” You pant, letting one hand slide down your body, your fingers about to find their way to your clit

But your movement is stopped when Bruce grabs your hand and yanks it away.

He shakes his head as he growls, “let me.”

You moan at the commanding tone in his voice, a wave of euphoria pulsing through your body as you watch his hand once again find its place between your folds.

“Oh fuck, Bruce” you sigh contently as he’s quick to find your sensitive bundle of nerves.

He does exactly as he was taught, starting off slow and gentle, being deliberate in his motions as he begins to circle your clit once again.

But that’s not what you needed, nor wanted right now.

“Faster Bruce, please” you lean forward and tug his earlobe between your teeth, extracting another deep groan from him.

You release his earlobe with a moan as he speeds up his circles on your clit, his pace matching that of your own as you continue to bounce up and down on his cock.

“Ugh, yes baby. That’s it. You’re doing so good for me” your words are mumbled against his neck as you arch into his chest, your mind almost going dizzy and blank with pleasure.

“I’m... I’m close... I’m gonna...” he whines, throwing his head back again.

“Me too baby. Let go. Cum for me Bruce” you whisper.

You place a quick kiss to his cheek before you lean back to look at him, let him look at you.

The pure look of bliss on his face is enough to tip you over the edge. You gasp raggedly just as your climax tears through you, pleasure coursing through your veins, burning as hot as the fire behind you. Your noise causes Bruce’s eyes to snap open again to drink in the sight of you as you cum. You feel your pussy contract over Bruce’s cock, squeezing him inside you.

“Ugh, shit” he cries as your convulsing cunt causes him to tip over the edge himself.

You feel his cock twitch inside you, his hips stilling as he pushes up inside you and he spills his release into you. You watch in satisfaction as his face contorts in pleasure, his typical hardened facade dropping. His one hand trembles as he continues to circle your clit, his pace slowing gently now he knew that you would get sensitive. You slowly decrease your pace of riding him as the two of your draw out your highs. When a shudder runs down your body Bruce takes the signal to stop rubbing your clit.

The two of you just sit for a moment, looking at each other contently, as you both attempt to catch your breath. Your hands move back to his neck, cupping the back of his head as your fingers scratch his scalp lightly.

“You did so good baby. That was amazing” you smile down at him before pressing your lips against his again briefly.

“Is there anything else I should know?” He murmurs after a moment.

He brushes your hair out of your face, his fingers moving to gently graze over your cheekbone.

“Umm, well I can’t speak for them all, but most girls really like to kiss as much as possible. Before, during, after. We just like to be kissed. Or at least I do” you shrug and laugh softly.

Bruce’s leans up and captures your lips with his, gently coaxing your face toward his with his hand still cupping your cheek. This time the kiss is soft, but sure; Bruce was a quick learner. This kiss felt fuelled by something different; there was a kind of energy behind it that you hadn’t noted before. His lips move against yours with confidence, drawing you into him even more.

When he stops, his lips barely an inch away from yours as he looks at you intensely. There’s something in his eyes that even you couldn’t read.

He then whispers, so softly you’d have missed it if his face wasn't so close to yours.

“I don’t think I care about most girls… just one.”

Part Two

Masterlist

A/N: okay no bc I’m already thinking of a part 2 where reader teaches Bruce how to eat pussy too😵‍💫 we’ll see if I have time / if you guys like this🙈😅 anyway, I hope you guys did enjoy this, it was definitely a fun time to write!!

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skin | pope heyward

summary: you like physical contact and you can’t stop touching your boyfriend.

pairing(s): pope heyward x fem!reader, platonic!pogues x fem!reader.

word count: 1.82k

warnings: swearing, alcohol use, lots of touching, fluff, aged up characters, mentions of smut (I think?).

author’s note: pope’s getting the love he deserves. everyone should just love the hell out of him. no outer banks season 2 spoilers! this takes place before the show.

Keep reading

sleep, a slow chase || takeshi kovacs x reader || oneshot

Smut - 1k+ words - Established Relationship. Warnings: Piv sex. Kissing. Cuddling.

a/n - thought of this at 7am instead of, you know. sleeping in. the thirst knows no days off.

You wait for Takeshi to come back to the Raven.

You’re deep asleep on the plush sofa of your room at the Raven when Takeshi enters. The hour is late. Much later than he told you he’d be gone, but Poe had kindly kept you updated with messages from the envoy all evening. Eventually, your eyes had fallen shut, and Tak closes the heavy hallway door behind him with a silent step inside.

His gaze flicks over you as he shucks off his trenchcoat. You stretch out in your sleep, your arms tucked up into the pillow beneath your head as your eyes stutter and shift under closed lids. 

You wear a small shirt- the hem rucked up past your naval as you twisted in your sleep, Tak assumes. He admires the curve of your almost-bare hip, and the small patch of blue fabric disappearing between your legs in a soft triangle. 

You stir when a pair of strong arms slip under your shoulders and the back of your knees. You startle awake blearily.

“Tak?”

He soothes you with a faint hum. His voice is deep but quiet as he carries you across the room. “S’okay. Moving you to the bed.”

Each footstep rocks you back into that half-asleep state. You slip an arm up his chest and around his neck without thinking. 

“Find any work?” You mumble into his collar.

“Some prospects.” He takes his time setting you down onto the mattress. His knee dips the bed low as he reaches over and pulls the blankets over you. “I’ll tell you about it in the morning.”

Your hand finds him as it always does. Tak’s thumb rubs circles into your wrist, a second conversation unfolding as you bid him to stay. 

“Gonna take a shower.” The mattress springs back slowly as he stands.

You think you only ruminate on his words for a moment, but when you open your eyes again the envoy’s figure is gone. You shift your head toward a new light in the room. The steady stream of running water echoes out from the bathroom as Takeshi washes up with the door open.

Tak isn’t surprised to see you’ve squirmed your way out from his carefully tucked covers when he returns. Your shirt and panties lie in a small, unkempt pile at the foot of the bed. He huffs out a small breath, smirking. You were rarely bothered by Bay City’s cold nights, even at this late hour. 

He finishes running the soft towel in his hands through his hair and tosses it to the floor. Making his way over to the empty side of the bed, Tak finally joins you. He lifts the arm you’ve stretched out over his side of the large mattress. Reaching for him in your sleep, as always. He places it over his shoulder as he gathers you up in his arms, your body just a touch cooler than his freshly warmed one.

The slide of his skin is damp but clean against yours, rousing you from slumber again happily. Your limbs constrict around him, your nose pushing into his sternum with a deep inhale. 

“Smell good.” You murmur. 

Takeshi rests his head on your pillow. “You too.” He muses, lips brushing against the top of your head. 

He chuckles when you entangle yourself with him some more, your ankle hooking around the back of his knee to pull him even closer. 

“Get some more rest.” he tries.

Still, he doesn’t protest as you rock your hips against his. He hums long and deeply, allowing you to coax his hips to move in return. Until you feel his cock twitch against your bare inner thigh. Your lips brush over his firm chest, peppering slow kisses as you go. You stop when your mouth closes over the stiff peak of his nipple, sucking down on it until Takeshi’s grip presses into you, a deep sound of desire rumbling in his chest.

You slip your hand down between the two of you and wrap your fingers around his growing arousal. He’s thick and heavy in your palm. Even half-awake, you take the time to run a tender thumb over the tip, coaxing another grunt from Tak’s throat. Shifting your hips, you line up his length with your sex. Your belly is already tight with heat as you push his head past your slick folds.

Tak’s groan fills up the room. ”So wet?” Is all he grinds out as you sink down onto him. You release a high breath.

“I was thinking about you… all day… in the bath… before I fell asleep on the couch.” You admit into the crook of his neck quietly. Your words seem to stoke that familiar flame- that Tak you know who can never stop looking at you with heat in his eyes. 

He rolls you over, pushing the rest of the way in with a slow but heavy thrust. Your limbs curl around him as you sigh with pleasure. Your eyes fight to roll up and  flutter closed all at once. 

His strokes are short and close, an unhurried rhythm as he sinks into you again and again, his weight bearing down on you as he presses every inch of his skin he can against yours. Every inch of his cock into the wet heat of your cunt.

You feel like you’re coming in a dream and in the real. Tak’s voice remains a deep, grounding rumble. You feel it straight from his chest- his muscles pressing firmly against you, pinning you to the silken sheets. You whimper again and again as he thrusts into you. He finally stops when your soft keens dissolve and your mouth finds him in a breathless kiss. His hips still as you flutter around him, and Tak pours the sound of his release into your ear with a strangled moan. Finally, he falls down beside you. 

You watch as his face relaxes, his eyes falling shut as he tries to keep them on yours.

You squeeze your thighs tightly when Tak attempts to slip out of you. You keep him there, inside you. He wraps an arm around you and drags your upper body back to his chest. 

You smooth your fingers over his freshly shaven face and let the air linger between your shared, drowsy breaths. The two of you settle in and lie like this. Facing each other. Embracing each other. Until sleep takes you again, and Takeshi Kovacs with you. 

off the table

pairing: tasm!peter parker x ex!reader

tags: NSFW, breakup angst, sadness, graphic smut, alcohol use, mentions of wounds from a fight, exes, drunk!peter, ex!peter, slight choking

summary: ever since the breakup, peter hasn’t seen you in months. when he drunkenly shows up at your door, the two of you realize that there’s some things that haven’t been addressed.

notes: this fic became longer than i expected so enjoy almost 6k of pining, miscommunication, and smut!!! based off of the song “off the table” by ariana <3

missing out? ➤ my masterlist

Peter Parker doesn’t believe in the right person at the wrong time. He grew up with the knowledge that if someone was right for his heart, then the timing could never be wrong. Everything would fall in line just how it was destined to be, like it was meant to. If one chapter closed in his life, then another one opened. Yet Peter believed in second chances, especially for those he loved. No matter how unsuitable a person could be for him, he always held onto the silver lining that circumstances could become better — that a person could become better and he wouldn’t have to close a chapter.

Peter isn’t ready to close yours.

But you weren’t just a simple chapter to him. You were an entire novel, interwoven with stories and quotes and unspoken dialogue that would live in the wrinkles of his brain. Your love lingered in the cracks of his lips and the insides of his palms from the nights he couldn’t stop touching you, and the nights you couldn’t stop moaning his name against his own mouth.

God, he missed those nights.

Peter could still memorize every mole, freckle, and scar on your body. He could still recite every one of your favorite lines from that rom-com you used to watch together. Everytime your song came on, he found himself singing along to the lyrics as if you never left.

As if you were still together.

He doesn’t know how he got here. The smell of liquor is pungent on his clothes as he sniffles into the air. Peter usually never drank, but there was something about today that made him want to drown his sorrows away in the least responsible manner. Because with great responsibility comes — wait, what was it again?

The right side of Peter’s body harshly collides into the wall with enough impact to create a dent. His footing is messy and he can barely hold himself up as he sways lazily in the hallway to find the familiar apartment.

“Fuck…” Peter murmurs to himself as he hears your laugh echo from outside your door, causing him to clumsily stumble onto his knees. “Get it together, man.”

He pulls himself to his feet, using the ground for leverage before his forehead is leaning against the coolness of the white-colored door as Peter attempts to remember the whole speech he had planned out in the haziness of his mind. With an uncertain hand, he knocks. There isn’t an answer until he decides to knock again, to which he then hears the chirpy sound of your voice shouting ‘coming!’ from the other side, followed by the sharp clacking of heels against the floorboards.

He’s leaning against the wall by the time the door swings open and his breathing becomes ragged at the sight of you.

You, in a sequined dress, something he thought would be too short and flashy for your own liking. You, with your hair up and freshly-done makeup that reminds Peter of all the times you’d gotten dressed up to see him. You, staring at him, as the smile fades from your lips like you’d seen a ghost.

“Y/N.” Peter exhales with a lopsided grin.

“Peter,” You stare at him with wide eyes in disbelief. You stick your head outside of the door to glance at either end of the hallway for anyone else. “What are you doing here?”

He laughs tiredly and runs a heavy hand down his face. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t like — I couldn't find my way back home and I think I lost my phone somewhere.” He chuckles, pointing at you. “Did I… um, are you gonna leave? I’m sorry, I dunno how I — dunno what I’m doing, Y/N.”

You smell it then — the alcohol. And it makes sense. You’re unsure how to approach him, because you hadn’t seen Peter in several months ever since your breakup halfway through college. He continues to mumble under his breath; the sight of his disheveled appearance makes your heart ache, which only makes you feel sorry for him.

There’s a discoloration of purpled blues and bloody reds by his eyebrow that you hadn’t noticed before.

“Are these bruises? Oh, my god. Peter, I’m gonna call you a cab.” You tug your bottom lip between your teeth. He instantly grabs your wrist before you can turn away from him, then your head snaps to look at him.

“No, no need. Can‘t do hospitals, remember?”

You swallow hard. “Yeah. I remember.”

You don’t miss the way his thumb rubs your skin in the silence.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’ll go.” Peter starts to lose his footing. Your hands instantly find his shoulders to steady him before he can fall over, sighing as he tries to apologize. “I’m sorry. I didn’t have anyone else — I don’t know… I don’t have anyone else.”

You screw your eyes shut in a mix of pity and frustration.

“Oh, fucking hell. Come inside, Peter.”

You guide his tall frame into the apartment as you shut the door behind you, carefully watching where he walks as you lead him onto the couch. He plops down onto the pillows with a lack of grace, and his eyes glaze over the exposed skin of your thighs.

You pad towards the bathroom, rummaging for the first aid kit that you hadn’t used ever since Peter had lived here. There’s a distance in your gaze as you return to the living room, setting bandages and towels on the coffee table before you’re kneeling in front of Peter.

He then sees that the apartment looks different. Any trace of himself was obviously gone, replaced with pictures of people he couldn’t recognize and replaced with stuff that he doesn’t remember buying for you. The whiteboard on the fridge that Peter used to write notes for you is now filled with a schedule, reminding him that his presence was causing a disturbance to the peaceful night you were going to have.

“I’m so sorry for bothering you.”

“Leg.” You motion, holding his calf as you pull his shoe off.

“You look beautiful, by the way.”

“Other one.”

“Why are you all dressed up?”

“Peter, I need you to put your leg up.”

“You look so pretty. Is it a date? Are you still…” He huffed with a short laugh. “… are you dating again?”

You chase the frown off of your face with a shake of your head, trying to level your patience. “It’s my birthday tomorrow, Peter.” Realization flashes across his features. You interrupt before he can speak. “I was headed out for drinks with friends. I’m not dating anyone.”

“Oh.” He scratches his nose. “Right, yeah.”

You shrug. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry for ruining your night.”

You set his shoes aside and sit by him on the couch, taking the first aid kit into your lap as Peter gazes at you longingly. “S’okay, didn’t wanna go out anyways.” Your knee brushes against his thigh as you survey the blossoming bruises on his face. Your fingers ever-so-slightly twitch as you reach for him. “May I? My hands are clean. Just wanna put a bandage over it.”

“Don’t need to ask me.”

You gingerly tilt his head back with a hum, “I do.”

“You always asked.” Peter sucks in a breath as you dab at the small cuts with a gauze pad. “Every time I was hurt after patrol and needed you, you’d ask. As if you hadn’t touched me before.” He studies the flicker of nostalgia on your face. He talks as if the words are meant for himself more than you. “No other person cared for me like you did.”

In a sick way, him being here feels like home again.

Guilt sinks into you as you turn away from him. You and Peter never had a proper conversation about what happened between you two. People grow apart. People lose interest. People find somebody else. But none of that ever happened, and the reasons for your break-up were never addressed which is what made his comment sting harder than it should have.

You pat a warm towel against his cheeks and neck, wiping away the sweat and the stench of the bar from his skin. With steady hands, you rip the small band-aid open, placing it over the surface wounds on his eyebrow.

“What kind of trouble did you get yourself into, spidey?” The timbre of your voice is gentle as you look at him, eyes wandering over his face in sympathy.

He shifts in his seat. “Just some assholes who drank too much.”

“Sounds familiar.”

Peter chuckles at your remark, head lolling to the side. “Is that what you think of me right now? Asshole who drank too much?”

“Maybe just the ‘drank too much’ part.”

“Personally, I was hoping you’d say I’m an asshole.” He scoffs, cradling his own cheek.

A sad smile falls upon your lips as you gaze at him. “Hm, why’s that?”

“Would be easier to know you have some semblance of hatred for me.”

The declaration feels like a punch in the stomach, and you find yourself at a loss for words when Peter’s fingers nudge against your hand. You close your eyes when you feel his pinky curl against yours. Unable to look at him, you sit forward on your elbows, hunching over in your lap.

“You’re drunk, Pete.”

The nickname makes him weak.

“Tell me you hate me.” He leans over to you, his breath fanning over your shoulder. You feel tears prickle in your eyes. “Please, Y/N.”

Your voice is muffled as you cover your face. “I don’t hate you.”

“I want you to.”

“I couldn’t — I couldn’t possibly hate you.” You cross your arms over your chest. He lingers over your back. He wants to kiss the softness of your skin, to remember how you tasted, how your body reacted to him and him only. But Peter knows better than to chase the old life that you had shared together. “Nothing you do is worth hating.” You can feel him inhale your perfume, and you don’t move when his chin settles in the curve of your shoulder.

The action is one of longing, one that tells you that Peter hadn’t stumbled at your door for no reason, one that whispers ‘I miss you, do you miss me?’ in every language, and every iteration of each wordless apology that refuses to leave him.

A sob rustles through the air.

“We were so good together, and you left.” The boy whispers brokenly. “I loved you and you left.”

“That’s not fair.”

“What about this is supposed to be fair?”

“I left because I loved you too much.” Peter feels the drunkenness fade from his body at the sight of tears on your face, heightening his powered senses. “I loved you more than I loved myself. I loved you to the point that I’d actually allow you to destroy yourself as Spider-Man, because I know I couldn’t stop you. What kind of person does that?” You sit up, interlocking your hands behind your neck as an overwhelming wave of emotion hits. “How could I just — just stand there and support you knowing that you could be gone at any moment? That it would ruin me and I’d be okay with it because you would be doing the very thing you loved to do?”

The space under Peter’s eyes is stained with tear tracks, sniffling loudly at your thoughts. “Is that not what love is?”

“To watch a person ruin themselves?”

His eyelashes flutter against your jawline as he leans into your neck. “To be so selfless, that you’d put someone’s happiness over your own, even if that meant losing them.” He trembles. “Y/N, I wish you’d talked to me.”

“We’re talking now, aren’t we?” You feel the clenching of his jaw. “Suppose it’s different now, yeah?”

“It’s never different with you.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ll always love you. I never stopped.” He finally presses a chaste kiss of longing to your clavicle. “You were my girl.”

You hold back tears. “Is this really you talking?” Peter notices the sputter of your chest, your throat threatening to let a sob wrack through your body.

He turns you towards him, letting his hand dip down just above your hip. Your distressed eyes search his face for an answer as your bottom lip quivers in visible heartache. He takes your hand in his free one, kissing the pads of your fingers before he places them over his heart. “This is me sober.” He kisses them again. “This is me in love.” Another kiss. “This is yours.” He runs your hand over his chest, up his neck and then his cheek with wet lashes. “I am yours. Everything I am is yours. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

Your lip juts out in anguish when Peter’s tears fall against your skin. You shudder. “I think you should go.”

He’s all over you. His scent. His eyes.

“I’ll never love anyone the same way I love you.”

You feel like you’re suffocating under the colossal weight of his poetry.

“Peter, I can’t do this tonight.”

You’re moving to get up, until his arms wrap around your legs. He keeps you there — unable to move, stagnant, and unchanged like you had no choice but to endure this. His head rests against your abdomen while you fight to stand straight, refusing to give in.

But it’s so difficult.

It feels like betrayal as you watch him cry into the material of your dress, whispering chants of ‘don’t go’ in the same manner as a broken record. You hold your chin up high, ignoring how empathetic tears of your own trail down your face at the sounds of his whimpering.

“Y/N.” He hisses through teeth. “Y/N, please.”

The crack of his voice injures your conscience.

“I tried for you.”

Peter’s hands cup the backside of your thighs as his words stumble over each other in a hurry. “So try again with me.”

Your hands subconsciously entangle in his hair before you slowly bend down to plant a wistful kiss to the top of his head — more of a sob than a kiss, but Peter feels relief at the sensation of your lips on his body anyhow. Your fingers knot through the chestnut strands as they drift past the nape of his neck.

His hair smells like your old shampoo.

“Oh, Pete.” You sigh, allowing him to pull you into his arms. His hands are large against the curvature of your back, and he’s feverishly grasping at your skin under the touch of you.

The crushing embrace is one of love and yearning, but there’s an underlying heat in the way Peter takes you into his lap. Your arms are slung around his neck as his face buries itself beside your ear. The hitching of his breath reminds you that this is real — that you’re in his arms and he still loves you in a way that such words cannot describe.

“It’s not like this with anyone else.” He whispers, causing the wetness of his lips to transfer onto your skin. The peak of his nose drags against your cheek as his breath ghosts over you.

“Peter…” The name heeds as a warning when his lips come dangerously near yours. His eyes dance across your features; his heart shrivels at the sight of your cries and the shaking in your arms.

“Why are you scared?”

“If you kiss me, I’m afraid I’ll tell you all the things I never got to tell you.” You whimper when he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You can tell me anything you want.” He speaks breathily as his lips follow along your jaw. “Tell me you miss me.” Kiss. “Tell me you hate me.” Kiss. “Tell me you need me, or you don’t.” Kiss. “Tell me you love me, Y/N. You can say anything and nothing will change.”

Peter gazes up at you. His eyes are glassy, and the loving brown hue of them is suddenly darker than you remember. You shake your head at him without a word, unable to talk with how your throat bubbles in rehashed misery. The brunette leans into you as you gently cradle the side of his face. You hesitate, and he catches it. His forehead presses up against yours. “You don’t need to do anything unless you want to.”

Peter’s comment causes a tear to slip out from the corner of your eye. A whine eases between your lips as you pull him closer towards you until your noses are touching.

He surveys your next move.

He prays you aren’t ready to close this chapter.

Peter loses any and all sound of mind when your lips clash against his. It’s hurried and messy, teeth bumping into each other with a clicking noise, accidental moans escaping your mouths. His hand softly holds you by the neck, while the other travels to the suppleness of your bottom to hold you up.

Your breathing is noisy, and Peter feels like he’s burning up a fever when you bite at his bottom lip. He doesn’t hide the aching groan that leaves him.

Nothing about the kiss is smooth.

Nothing about the way Peter touches you is innocent.

He’s completely sober at this moment. Any ounce of alcohol left in his system has faded as a result of how his body functions, and because Peter really wants to make the effort to remember this — you. He wants to savor every bite, every moan, every whisper of his name, every drop of you and every tear that leaves your eyes.

“I haven’t…” You pull away from him for relief. “… you know… in months.” Your tone is shy. The embarrassed blush on your cheeks makes Peter weak in the knees.

Peter nods in understanding. “Neither have I.” He plants a kiss on your sternum. “It’s okay.”

Your gaze doesn't leave him when his hand reaches around to hold your ponytail. He takes the band around your hair, gently tugging it out of place while being careful not to hurt you. He slips it around his wrist as messy strands fall around your face, cascading and framing each detail of you.

He runs his fingers through your part, humming at the way you shut your eyes. He sits forward and wraps your legs around his waist before he stands effortlessly; Peter’s strength makes you feel miniscule in his grasp until his lips find yours again and suddenly you can feel the fire within you growing.

Like second nature, Peter navigates your bodies to your bedroom, hoping that it is the same as it once was. The room is dark, and neither of you care for lights when Peter tenderly lays you out on the bed.

His lips leave yours and now he stands over your body.

You admire his face.

“Are your bruises okay?” The whisper melts into the heavy silence.

“Bruises have never stopped me when it comes to you.” He runs his hands down your legs before he’s kneeling on the floorboards, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed. He rids you of your heels, softly kissing the tops of your feet as he makes his way up your legs. “God, you’re perfect.” His mouth is wet on your skin and the saliva glistens in the shadows.

“Pete…”

“I need you, Y/N,” He whispers, fingers kneading at the flesh of your thighs, “Christ, all of you.” His nails are digging into you. His grip is rougher.

“Stop teasing.” You nudge him with your foot.

“Oh, baby, it’s not teasing.” Your eyes meet his brown ones in the dark as he slowly hikes your dress up your stomach, revealing your underwear. His laugh comes out as a scoff. You instantly pick up on the way his voice shifts to a lower tone, accenting his words as he takes off his sweater. “I can show you what teasing is if you want.”

Fuck.

“I missed you.” You confess. “I missed this.”

“Keep talking to me.” His breaths are ragged as he kisses the skin around your core. He’s pulling your knees apart, nibbling on the insides of your thighs as his chest hits the frame of the bed. “Work for it, Y/N.”

“Haven’t been touched like this. In a while.” You sit up on your forearms to watch Peter’s reaction. “Haven’t touched myself since we were together.”

He moans sinfully at the remark, moving to sit beside you with an amused chuckle until he’s pulling you into his lap again. His chest is flush against your back as he spreads your legs for you.

The mirror across the room is enough to tell you what he’s thinking.

“Is this what you were afraid to tell me?” His nose buries into your hair. He’s exhaling into your skin, jaw slack as he helps you push your panties down your thighs. You can only nod as you study your reflections in the glass. “That you can’t get off without me?” You let your head fall against his shoulder, sucking a mark on his neck. His throat flexes at the motion. “What do you want me to do with you?”

“Finger me, Peter.” You breathe out, caressing his jaw. Your lipstick stains his chin. “Please.”

His finger dips down between your folds. A mocking chuckle leaves him as you sigh at the feeling of him touching you. He toys with your clit, rubbing gentle circles against the nub.

“Just as beautiful as the day I met you.” He gazes longingly at your desperate state in the mirror, spurred on by the visual of your head thrown back in helpless desire. “Look at yourself. So needy, aren’t you?” The tip of his finger prods at your entrance. “Fuck, Y/N.” His other hand wraps around your throat, pressing on your pulse point.

His middle finger enters you, slowly curling inside you until he’s pumping the digit in and out of you. You can hear the sounds of your wetness accumulating around your folds, and it’s even dirtier now that Peter can see it in the mirror. His jaw hangs open in a ‘O’ as you shut your eyes, sighing against him as he adds another finger to fill you.

“Oh, Peter…” You whine, nearly closing your legs at the sudden feeling. You use your own fingers to touch your clit, moaning as the heel of Peter’s palm presses against your mound. “Fucking… god, it feels so good.”

“Yeah?”

Peter’s erection strains against the denim of his jeans, and you use your free hand to reach behind you to grasp him through the material. He moans raspily at the touch, eyebrows furrowing in satisfaction.

“Take your pants off.” You mutter into his lips as you eye him through heavy lashes. The ache between your thighs doesn’t go unnoticed, but getting Peter off was just as pleasurable as his fingers inside of you.

He smirks, “Yes, ma’am.”

You crawl off his lap, laying on your stomach as he rids himself of his underwear and jeans. You rest your chin in the palm of your hand as you watch him, licking your lips when his cock comes to view. He scoots closer to you, letting you take control as you wrap a fist around his length. Your dress rides up your backside, giving Peter a chance to gaze at the curve of your ass as your legs cross innocently in the air. His nostrils flare into a deep inhale as you take him into your mouth, suctioning your lips around his tip.

He controls the urge to snap his hips into you, wanting to bask in the feeling of you sucking him off. Your lips pepper the underside of his cock; your stare never leaves him as you peer up doe-eyed and trusting.

“So big,” You mumble before your head bobs down and takes him fully into your mouth.

“Jeez, Y/N.” Peter can see the outline of his tip from the bulge in your cheek, and he chuckles shakily when your hand splays out onto his stomach as you squeeze your lips around him. “God, fuck, y-your mouth…” He’s throbbing and his voice comes out broken and needy. “Oh, baby, so good.”

Baby.

The pet name makes you clench your thighs together.

A string of saliva connects your lips to his cock when you pull off for air, nearly gasping as your throat opens up again. There’s tears in your eyes from the way his girth filled your mouth. Peter doesn’t hesitate to wipe them away from your face, cooing softly as your mascara stains your skin.

“I got you, Y/N. I got you.” He shushes you, rubbing your back as you cough. “Hey, don’t tire yourself.”

You rest your cheek against him, lazily pumping his length in your hand as you shake your head. “I’m sorry, wanna make you cum.”

“I’ll cum when you do.”

You chuckle in reminiscence. “Always a giver, Pete.”

“Well, only for you.”

“Hm, really?” You pump him at a slow pace. He hisses audibly with a wordless nod of his head. You can see the yearning on his face. “I want you inside me. Would you give me that?”

“I’ll give you anything you want, Y/N.”

You sit up on your knees, hand leaving the warmth of his cock as you grab onto his shoulders. Your lips drag down his face, capturing his mouth into a clumsy kiss that causes your limbs to tangle with one another. He carefully rolls you back onto the bed so that he’s on top, and he takes advantage of the moment to slip your body out of your dress.

Peter caresses your bare tits, burying his face in the valley of your breasts as he leaves a trail of hickies across your chest. He pins your wrists above your head with one hand, his other fingers rubbing your clit between the mess of your bodies.

“Tell me where you want me again.” His dilated eyes search yours hungrily while he grinds against you, awed by how your face contorts into pleasure. “Inside you?” You nod rapidly. “Stretch you out? Are you sure you can take me?”

“I’ve taken it before.”

He grins. “Good girl.” Peter runs his length down your folds, teasing your entrance with newfound patience that rattles you. You shut your eyes to focus on your breathing, until anxious thoughts make their way into your brain.

“Peter, wait.”

The boy stops immediately.

“What’s wrong?” His voice is soft with concern. He worriedly cups your face. “Did I hurt you? Are you okay?”

Your eyelids open reluctantly. With a rough gulp, you blink weakly at him. “If we have sex, what does this make us?”

He opens his mouth, yet nothing comes of it. You see the reality of the situation fall upon his features.

“Can’t I just have you for tonight?”

You feel a rush of tears approach. “And what about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow, if you’d let me.” He kisses your nose. “And then the next day. And the day after. A week from now. A month.” His fingertips ghost over your ribs. “Take me back anytime you want, whenever you want. No matter how long it takes, I’m yours.”

You nod. “Okay.”

“You’re alright?” Peter pushes your hair back.

“Mhm, yeah.”

“Say yes for me, baby.”

“Yes, Pete.”

He looks at you one more time before his gaze shifts between your legs. Carefully, he pushes into you. You hold back a groan as your body adjusts to him. The sting hurts in a good way, and the aching of your core continues to build as Peter’s pelvis touches yours.

“Is this good?” He leans over, one hand on the bed while the other holds the back of your head. You moan in approval. “Can I move? Is that okay?”

“Y-Yes, thank you.” You hold his waist, mouth falling ajar as he pulls his cock back and thrusts in again. “Holy fuck, Peter.”

“Tell me if it hurts.”

“No, it feels good.” You bite his shoulder. “It feels so good.”

His strokes quicken, and Peter can’t take his eyes off of you when you moan wanton into his mouth. He does the same, teeth clashing against yours as your body jolts at his thrusts. He pushes your knees to your chest, pounding deeper inside you.

“Y/N, god.” He huffs, head hurting at the overwhelming feeling of you clenching around him. “You’re so tight.”

“It’s yours.” You smile at him.

“Say it, Y/N. All of it.”

“My pussy is yours.”

“Oh. Oh, baby.” His skin slaps against the back of your thighs. In the darkness, you see the sweat trail down his forehead and the need for release is written all over his face. “Fuck, Y/N, feels so good when it’s you.”

Peter’s eyes remind you that you can trust him.

“Hey, I love you.” You kiss the corner of his lips. “Look at me.”

He glances up at you to reassure himself that your words are real. “Again. Do that again.”

“I love you.”

“Say my name.”

“Peter, I love you.” He moans blissfully. It’s loud and gruff, but the sound reminds you of all the nights from before. The pit in your stomach finally drops when Peter grips you by the throat, thrusting into you rougher than before. “I’m gonna… baby, I’m gonna cum.”

“C-Can I cum inside you?” He pleads as you grip onto his wrists.

“Please.”

The choked statement of desire sends him over the edge, and the bedroom is filled with a song of your moans and grunts as you cum around his cock. Peter follows quickly, unable to fathom the sensation of you squeezing around him like you wouldn’t ever let him go. A whimper escapes him as he finishes and lets his body collapse on top of yours.

“Holy shit.” He laughs against your neck, peeling his fingers away from the stickiness of your skin. “Are you okay?” You nod with a satisfied expression, motioning for him to pull out.

The ache in your core is replaced with emptiness from the lack of Peter, and he hums apologies as his cum begins to leak onto your bedsheets. “S’okay.” You assure him, arms reaching for his tall frame as he finally lays beside you.

“Y/N...” He turns to you.

You wave him off sleepily. “Peter, we’ll talk in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Promise when I wake up you’ll be here, yeah?”

“As long as we don’t end up yelling at each other.”

You laugh at his comment, but part of you is fearful. “Peter, I’m serious.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’ll be here.” He kisses your cheek without second thought, inhaling the scent of himself on your skin. “Promise.”

-

The chirping of birds draws you out of your sleep. The sunlight is bright, yet the bed feels oddly cold. Your throat feels sore, and there’s an unmistakable smattering of familiar fingerprints on your body as you open your eyes.

Peter.

Your hand instinctively reaches for the space beside you.

“Peter?”

The side of his bed is empty. The duvet is pulled away messily, but the indent of his body is still clear as day in the mattress. Your pillowcases smell of him and sex, and you frown at the lack of his presence. Reluctantly, you get up, ignoring the soreness between your thighs when your feet touch the hardwood floor. You slip on the nearest shirt, shivering from the cool air with a frown on your lips.

He promised. He fucking promised.

You feel the build-up of tears in your eyes as you step into the hallway.

Disappointment. Anger. Hurt. Betrayal?

There’s a humming that comes from the kitchen.

“Peter?”

Silence. Then, a loud clatter.

“In here!”

The raspiness of his voice puts you at ease. Your shoulders relax at the familiar sound, and you level the pace of your breathing as you head into the other room. Peter stands by the stove, an apron around his sculpted chest as he focuses on the pan in front of him.

“You found it.”

“Found what? Also, you’re welcome for — for the cooking by the way.” He gestures at you with a spatula, wagging it at you jokingly.

“You found my apron.” You approach him with short strides, wrapping your arms around yourself as you snap out of your trance. “And thanks. Sorry. I thought…”

“You thought I left?” He glances at you with raised brows. “Have at least a little faith in me.”

“Sorry. I just — you know me, overthinker.”

You notice then that the apartment looks different. There’s stringy cobweb garlands on the ceiling, connected to the little hanging lamp above your dining table.

A long banner made of web that reads ‘Happy Birthday!’ sits above your front door.

Oh.

Peter takes advantage of your silence, coming to hold you by your waist as you stare dumbfounded at the decorations.

The room doesn’t feel so empty anymore.

“Happy birthday, by the way.” He kisses your shoulders, cradling your face in his hands as he bumps his nose against yours.

“Peter…”

“I know, I didn’t have to.”

“But why…” You puff your cheeks.

“It’s the least I could do since I ruined your girls’ night.” He clears his throat. “And for having sex with you.” He looks away in embarrassment, gazing at the ceiling as if he was talking to himself. “When clearly we’re exes.”

You squeeze his side as you blurt out, “I wanna try again with you.”

“You know, it’s completely fine if you wanted a one time thing like…” Peter still doesn’t meet your stare, clearly unaware that you’re even talking to him. “I mean, I had fun and — and I know I said some stuff and — like I was pretty sober for most of it so you know if I rehashed things…”

“Pete.”

“And I’m sorry for being such a shitty ex like…” You press a hand over his chest, hoping to catch his attention. “I didn’t show up just to have sex or — or hookup.”

“Peter.”

“I’m serious that I want you back—“

You shake his shoulders. “Peter Parker, will you just listen to me?”

He finds your eyes in the chaos of his words. “Sorry.”

“I want you, too.” You purse your lips. “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you how I felt instead of running away. I was just scared.”

“If anything, I’m the one who should be running away.” Peter rests his chin on top of your head, embracing you against his chest. “Every second I spend with you…”

“I don’t wanna hear it.” You smile sadly. “I know what I got myself into.”

He ignores the pang in his heart at the thought of losing you again, but in worse conditions. “I meant it when I said I love you. With you, it’s — it’s different.” He takes your jaw, pulling your face up to look at him. “I like it here with you.”

You grin against his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Is it just me or is something burning?”

“Fuck, sorry!”

Peter supposed that maybe your chapter together did end at one point. He supposed that maybe it was time for those old pages to be tucked away, for the whole novel of poetry and conversations to turn over into memories and merely live in the cracks of his heart where it could never be opened again. But Peter realizes that there was a reason your relationship ended — to make room for another book, another chapter, a sequel.

Maybe you were always the right person and it was always the right timing. Maybe the two of you just needed to rewrite your story.

Peter knows to finish a book before starting another one.

He can’t wait to see what this new novel holds.

-

【ｓｅｘｘｘ　ｄｒｅａｍｓ】

💤Damiano X reader

NSFW🔥 smutty sexy dirrty talkin times with swearing & drinking

°Damiano David & female reader insert ✨ cameos by Victoria & Ethan

°🎶I can’t believe I’m telling you this, but I’ve had a couple drinks and… oh my God! Last night- Damn, you were in my sex dreams || Damiano corners you to ask why you’ve been behaving so strangely towards him all day

wordcount:       5,824

°requested by @lifeofa-fangirl & their pick from this list of smutty dialogue prompts. They selected 96: “I had this dream and- fuck- you couldn’t keep your hands off me.” & added fuel to thefire by specifying: Reader and Dami being friends and one of them saying this to the other, which leads to… stuff? - stuff you shall have my dear💋 ask & it shall be given– requests are open!

°title/some of the dialogue stolen from Lady Gaga

Keep reading

Pulling their hair while making out:

Moderate NSFW warning!

HCs and blurb requests (both sfw and nsfw) are open! Check my pinned post on my page for my writing boundaries.

Most of these HCs that I'm making so far are based off just random thoughts that pop up in my head. But the last one seemed to do well so we'll see how this one does. I promise they'll be more organized in the future. For now you just get my jumbled notes that I jot down for fun and occasionally share with you guys. <3 I appreciate all the support though. It means so much to me :)

I didn't add Harry or Dean because I didn't know what to do for either of them.

Fred: You would be making out with him in the common room during lunch. You wanted to test something so you tug at his hair a little bit too roughly. The groan that left him was something you didn’t expect but was very welcome. You also didn’t expect the smirk on his face once he pulled away. "Do that again and whatever happens next is not my fault darling." He laughs when you stumble over your words for a comeback, either in anger or embarrassment, but he secretly wishes you'd pull his hair again.

George: Lets out a soft whimper followed by a breathless "please do that again-" And just melts with another light moan when you do. He grabs you by your waist and pulls you impossibly closer before burying his face into your shoulder while pressing open mouth kisses along your skin and silently begging for more.

Neville: Poor mans would get so flustered after he lets out a surprised whine. You have to reassure him that it was kind of the reaction you were wanting, but it didn’t exactly help his flustered state. It might take a minute to calm him down though. Once he's calm, he tells you that he wants to keep kissing. He’d be nervous to ask you to do it again but you get the hint.

Draco: Oh boy. He really pulls the “you’re playing a dangerous game” card on you before going back to making out. But only now, he's rougher than before. Probably would put his hand against your throat so you could feel the cold metal of his ring. And to scare you, or tease you further. Whichever you're into. 

Ron: You would be in his dorm room, making out instead of studying like you guys said you were going to. You wanted to try something out so you tangled your fingers in the back of his hair and tugged. You got the exact opposite reaction you thought you would. He'd whine. First time he'd ever done so too. You pulled away to see him bright red in the face, but before he could pull away from you completely - you grabbed him by his face before whispering "do that again." And bringing him back into a heated makeout. He didn't complain, and by the end of it he was whining for you to do more than just kiss him.

Seamus: He’d probably see it as a game at first and pull your hair right back but the sound you let out tells him it’s not that kind of game. The soft noise of realization before he feels his face flush and playfully pushes you off makes you laugh before teasing him for being so oblivious. He curses you out, but he isn't really angry. The previous mood was ruined but hey you got a few laughs from it. You guys experiment with it later though.

Cedric: A gasp escaped him as he pulled away to look at you. You flushed as you tried to explain why you did it but he just grinned and chuckled. "Curious little thing, aren't you?" He quipped, before going right back in. He curled the ends of your hair around his fingers as he kissed you, threatening to pull it just like you did to his but he never did. Left you whining a bit and you hated how he just laughed at you. It's all lighthearted of course. He eventually made it up to you.