#☥🦇 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪

[vmpireslut]

babies.

more of baby!daddy eren as requested by anon ♡︎ + nsfw becuz he can’t keep his hands off of you. minors dni, please, i will send toji to get you.

Pitiful. That's exactly how you felt. Pitiful for letting the man you vowed to never let touch you again have had you in a headlock while he fucked you. Hazy, that's what your memory is as your eyes flutter open.

Trickles of light flood in, and it only takes a second for you to realize you're in his bed. The room smells like him—woodsy and slightly smoky, a scent that clings to your skin. You groan, throwing your head back, the ache in your neck a reminder of last night's intensity. It feels like you're doing the walk of shame as you saunter out in one of his shirts, the fabric soft and familiar against your skin, carrying his scent with you.

You round the corner to see the girls and then him. He's leaning casually against the counter, a cup of coffee in hand, his eyes locking onto yours with that same glint that got you into this mess. The girls are giggling, completely oblivious to the storm brewing inside you. The tension in the room is palpable, and you can feel his gaze following you, making every step feel heavier.

"Mommy!" The two four-year-olds exclaim at the same time upon noticing your presence. A smile breaks across your lips as they hug your legs, their small arms warm and comforting. "Good morning, my loves. What're you guys doing?" you question, pressing kisses against their messy bed hair, the scent of sleep and innocence filling your senses. "Daddy is making heart pancakes, look, Mommy!" Zoe pulls at your hand, her excitement palpable.

Chloe follows closely on your heels, her giggles bubbling up like a sweet melody. The kitchen is filled with the aroma of pancakes. Eren flipping heart-shaped pancakes with a concentration that makes your heart ache. The scene is a stark contrast to the turmoil inside you, a reminder of the complicated web of love and regret that binds you all together. You watch as he carefully places the pancakes onto a plate, the golden-brown hearts a testament to his effort to create a perfect morning. The girls' laughter rings out, and for a moment, the chaos in your mind is silenced by the simple beauty of this family moment.

Your ex-husband looks up, the corner of his mouth upturned. Your throat is suddenly dry, and you can feel the girls tugging at the hem of your shirt. His eyes are dark, and his jaw is set. “Eat up, so you can be big and strong like daddy.” setting the plates in front of the girls. They immediately dig in, and you take the moment of reprieve to gather yourself.

His hands are warm when they rest against the small of your back, and the way his breath fans across your ear has you biting your lip to hold in a moan. It doesn't go unnoticed. His touch lingers, his fingers tracing small, deliberate circles that send shivers down your spine. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, the familiar scent of his cologne mingling with the aroma of pancakes and syrup. The intensity of the moment is almost too much to bear, and you find yourself leaning into his touch, craving the connection that was once so natural between you.

His voice, low and husky, whispers, "I still remember how you like your pancakes, extra syrup, just a hint of butter." The words are simple, but the underlying emotion is unmistakable, a reminder of the love that still simmers beneath the surface. He won’t lie, the way his shirt falls off your frame excites him a bit too much. And the way he walks around all slutty with just a pair of sweatpants hanging off his hips, pretty hair tucked behind his ears excites you too much.

"Eat Mommy.” he whispers, his voice deep and husky. You glare at him. The man is sinful, and it's hard to resist when his thumb draws lazy circles against your hip bone. "Fine," you manage, trying to sound firm. For someone who can't stand him, you two sure do always end up in the craziest predicaments. It seems like every time he comes into contact with you, he leaves a mark. Whether it be bruises along your thighs or emotional turmoil, you're left reeling from his effect.

"Good," he praises, pulling away. You turn around to see his smirk as he sits on the counter. The girls are completely engrossed in their pancakes, their mouths moving a mile a minute about the things they want to do today. You can't help but stare at the man you married, the man you were going to grow old with.

But life isn't always as you plan, and now you're stuck in an endless cycle of what ifs.

"What do you want, ✰?”

The way your name rolls off his tongue sends a rush of arousal to your core. You clear your throat, looking away as you try to collect yourself. You can feel the weight of his gaze, the pressure of his scrutiny. You can feel the heat radiating off his skin. It's like being under a microscope, and you know exactly how he wants you.

"I want to take a shower." You pick at the food, appetite diminished.

His eyebrow cocks, and he crosses his arms.

“That’s all?”

You nod, watching as the girls gulped down the rest of their food. Ignoring his eyes, you stand up to carry the dishes to the sink.

The girls run off to play, leaving the two of you alone.

The tension is thick, and the silence is deafening.

You're about to head off when he wraps his fingers around your wrist.

"You're not going anywhere, what I tell you about leaving so fast and shit? What do you want?”

His hand is warm against your skin, the touch burning. His eyes are dark, and you swallow before taking a step back. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and your knees buckle.

"I said what I wanted."

He laughs, the sound mocking. He takes a step towards you, his presence overwhelming. Your body betrays you, and you can feel the arousal pooling between your thighs. “That’s all?” His words make you whimper, and your mind goes fuzzy. He's so close you can feel the warmth of his skin, the heat of his breath. Your resolve is weakening, and you know he can see it.

"I..."

"Use your words, princess. Tell me," he urges, his hand trailing up your arm. His touch is electric, and you can feel yourself giving in.

"You."

It's a quiet admission, but he hears it. A grin spreads across his lips, and he pulls you into him, his lips crashing against yours. His kiss is hungry, and his hands are rough as they roam your body.

"That wasn't so hard, was it, baby?"

"W-we can't the girls-"

"Are playing." He finishes, fingers creeping into the waistband of your underwear.

"Let me take care of you love."

And how can you say no when he's looking at you like that, with those eyes, with that voice, with his lips.

"Ohmyyyy—shittt." Eren's thrust are brutal as he fucks you against the glass shower wall. Water rains down on your bodies, his hand gripping the back of your neck pressing your face against the barrier.

The other holds onto your hips, pulling you back against his cock. The steam fogs up the glass, the sound of skin slapping fills the air. Your legs are shaking, head spinning. His name is the only thing that leaves your lips. You can't think straight, can't form a coherent thought. The only thing you can focus on is his cock stretching your walls almost painfully, his grip bruising, his voice deep and low as he praises you.

"That's it mama, doing so good." he encourages, hips rolling slowly into your gummy walls. Then once again, he's got you in that fucking headlock, picking up his pace. All you can do is babble incoherently, the head of his dick mean as it kisses your cervix.

"You like that, don't you?" he taunts, his thrusts harsh and unforgiving. "Like when I fuck you like this, like when I use you like the dirty little slut you are. He’s fucking you dumb, all you can manage is out a drawled out mhm. “Yeah, that's it, baby.” And god, he's right. You do like it. You like it when he treats you like a ragdoll, when he uses you for his pleasure. You like it when he talks to you like that, when he calls you all those vile names. After all, that is how you ended up carrying his kids.

"E-eren," you sob, your hands splaying against the glass. His grip tightens, hips continually rocking into your slick pussy, the head of his dick massaging you in a way that has you seeing stars behind your lids.

"Fuck, please," you beg, tears welling up in your eyes. "I-I’m gonna cum!”

"It’s alright Mommy, I got you. Let me feel you." his words push you over the edge, and your walls clench around his shaft. “Oh my god!" he groans, your walls fluttering against him milking is own release. He doesn’t bother pulling out, pumping his load deep inside your cunt, his seed painting your walls white. And just like that, you were sucked back in with the Eren Yeager.

𝑅𝒮𝐸𝒫𝐸𝒯𝒜𝐿𝒮 all rights reserved. comments, reblogs and likes are highly appreciated ♡︎

[switchbladefairy]

90'𝔰 𝔤𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔳𝔞𝔪𝔭𝔰 ☥🦇 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪

[velvetbatss]

☥🦇

[rxdidz]

hamzah w a youtuber/vlogger gf hcs plss 🙏 & thank u !!

☥🦇 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪ hamzah with a vlogger gf !

↳ a/n: headcanons, no warnings

you made a lot of friends in your city through youtube and social media, but there was one who you were too nervous to say anything to

hamzah made gaming and vlogging videos with his friend martin, you followed each other and liked each others posts but you wanted to talk to him

‘he lives IN your city, just reach out’ you told yourself

so you did and after meeting, you met again and again,

your subscribers knew you were dating someone, but they didn’t know who, so you would sneak in little clips with hamzah

“okay, now we’re going to the mall, he’s driving.” you smiled and pointed at hamzah, he was starting the car but he got in frame and waved.

“i have to be quiet because my boyfriends sleeping.” you whispered, panning the camera to his head laying on your pillow.

he’s so cute he’d be scrolling on your bed while you unbox clothes for a video

you filmed a what i eat in a day and he was SCREAMING because of a horror game

he loves being in your vlogs when it’s just like a day in my life because he just gets to hangout with you all day 😛

he’s your camera man but he actually cannot stop yapping and giving his little commentary

“whatt? i like this one it brings out your eyes.”

“we’re at the mall… i don’t like this store, i like the one we were in before, they keep playing this song and i think-”

“girl get that one if you want it.”

playing fortnite on the channel with him and martin🗣️ (horror games if he begs you)

doing facemasks 🤞

he likes that you both have different types of videos but still get to film together

sometimes you guys just do mukbangs of food you get at 3am

he always drives for you 🤭

you vlog your nights out and hamzahs in most of them, eating at a restaurant with your friends or in a club with you

your videos are so cute when your together, like doing his skincare in your night routine and you giggling cause he says it’s cold

you hang out and do things with him everyday and all you have to do is record it, you both love it

[p1xiemeat]

༺☥🦇☽ Bloodlust ☾🦇☥༻

[elliemean]

♡⊹ ࣪ ˖

☥🦇 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪

[n-inot]

⠀☥ I’m a man of flesh and bones ⠀🦇⠀⠀⠀˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥

[teddursa]

where the sick ‘n twisted go.. .ᐟ — 🦇 ( 제이크)

PREC .ᐟ S : being dirt poor in a small village means not having the privilege to study where only the elite go, only when your mom married mr.park did the doors open for you.

𝓅 arings. vampire/cultist!jake x helpless!reader

⛪️ .ᐟ 𝓌 arnings — mention of god/religion. mention of sexual acts between step!siblings. noncon.fingering.oral sex. public sex (?). dirty dirty talk. pls lmk if i should add more !

☥🦇 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪ - authors note : hii! it’s hana ♡ this is my first fic & it’s based off of a dream i kept having & i was like this would be a bomb fic. i’m nervous abt sharing my writing since i mostly just read on here so pls be nice ㅠㅠ this will also be a multiple story series since IM NAWT done, my brain is full of things for this series. this is based in the salem witch trial era.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ FIC UNDER MORE ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

CHAPTER 1. JAKE SIM.

ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🦇་༘࿐

you stepped into the school. your brown plaided skirt falling before your knees. your white button down was perfect with no wrinkles on it. the sweater you wore was new, a gift from mr.park. it had now been a month since your mother and mr.parked married making you one of the new members of the rich and powerful of salem. your black mary janes clicked softly on the tiles. the school was huge, so similar to a church.

sunghoon walked behind you, staring at your plush ass as you walked. the skirt being so tight and short on you was not something he expected. but it was the only size the school had left. he chuckled to himself as he looked at your legs, they looked so soft and delicate. rubbing against each other as you walked.

suddenly, a old lady appeared. “you must be y/n. i’m mrs.malen.” you stared with a soft smile, “yes madam. it’s so lovely to meet you” you were so soft spoken that she had to move closer to hear you. “well here’s your schedule and i’m sure sunghoon here can show you to your classes.“ as you turned to sunghoon, he had the same expression, he held out his hand as you handed him your schedule. “we have all the same classes. how annoying.” his voice was deep and cold. “follow me.”

when you walked into the classroom, there were 2 clerestory windows plastered on the wall. the desks were dark and almost looked like pews. as you sat down. you looked over at your seat mate, it was guy. he had blonde hair and the prettiest features. he was sleeping. but the way you admired him had awoken him. his eyes fluttered open, he took a glance at you, “what are you doing sitting here? are you new?” you nodded, he chuckled. “ohh , well i hope you enjoy being my seat mate bc i know i will.” your innocent voice spoke “what do you mean?”

“im jake.” “y/n” he only chuckled as the teacher finally started the lesson.

later on into the lesson, you felt the need to use the bathroom . you raised your hand and was granted permission to go, you slowly walked to the bathroom using the signs plastered to find your way into the bathroom. as you walked inside you felt like there was something following you. you turned around only to find jake. “what are you doing here? this is the girls bathroom!” you shrieked as he ran towards you. pushing you into one of the stalls. closing the door behind him. “god i knew as soon as i opened my eyes, i just had to get a taste of you.” you struggled against him as he ran his hands all over your body. “stop! t-this isn’t right, god would punish us both… s-stop jake!” he only chuckled, your devotion only made him harder. “god bless your innocent soul” he said as his hand snaked their way under your tight skirt.

his fingers rubbing your tight virgin pussy. you screamed for help but jake slapped you “shut the fuck up before i make this worse for you. no one’s gonna hear you baby deer.” he grabbed your face, shoving his tongue into your mouth. still rubbing your pussy from the outside of your panties. “god, i can’t wait to fuck you.” you shook your head violently, “p-please, i can’t..” he suddenly forced a finger inside. you screamed, the pain like nothing you’ve experienced before. he slapped you with all his force. “keep quiet you fucking slut. it’s like you want someone to walk in and see you get fucked like a whore” you cried as he started to finger you.

your nails digging into him as he fucked your tight pussy with his long slender fingers. “you seem so innocent, but no innocent girl would let me finger fuck them so well in the school bathroom.” you whined as the pain started to turn into pleasure. “fuck your dripping wet…” the squelching sound of your pussy sounded like a dream to jake. forcing him to only go faster. “f-fuck jake” you moaned out, his fingers fucking your pussy harder.

“ i knew you were a good little girl. come on let me make you feel good.” you whine and you lay your head on his shoulder. you arms gripping him so you won’t fall onto the cold tile floor. he kissed you on the neck as he pulled his hands away from your pussy. you whined. “no worries my baby deer i just want to feel your tight mouth.” suddenly he pushed you on the ground, making you fall into a corner, your hand gripping onto the toilet as he pulled out his cock, fucking his hand. you looked in shock as precum fell onto your skirt.

“fuck you look so beautiful. i can’t wait to fuck your innocent face.” he chuckled as you made a confused expression, pushing his cock into your mouth. “god bless this tight mouth.” your eyes teared up as he forced himself inside your mouth. “fucking whore, take it, take my cock...just like you were made for..." your small hands grabbing onto the toilet, your head banging against the tile wall. you looked up at jake. you tried to beg him to stop but his huge cock filling your mouth stopped you.

he groaned. “t-this is why no girls sit next to me, they all know what i do to innocent girls like you….i fuck them until their brain dead.” your eyes widened as you tried to push him off. your tiny hands grabbing onto his thighs in an attempt to push him off. he only laughed as his huge hands grabbed onto your hair pushing your nose closer to his v-line.

the choking sounds were becoming to much for jake as he felt himself get closer to his high. “g-god i don’t know how sunghoon hasn’t fucked you yet. w-when he told me about you, i thought his sick self would’ve been fucking you already—“ suddenly he stopped talking and he sped up. his cock hitting the back of your throat. your choking sounds were becoming more intense, as the spit started to flow down onto your school uniform. your tiny hands grabbing onto his thighs harder and harder as he finally reached his high cumming into your mouth with no shame.

his hand let go of your head, you started to choke on the cum. Jake leaned forward and took your chin in between 2 of his fingers. “swallow.” he whispered. you shook your head desperately. “i said swallow slut.” he said coldly as he forcefully shut your mouth. you swallowed his salty cum, how will god ever forgive you for the way you had sinned. jake’s cold voice talked again. “show me baby” you opened your mouth, hanging your tongue out. he chuckled. “good deer.” he got up slowly. taking in the way you looked.

you were sitting down on to the ground, in between the wall and the toilet. your hands grabbing onto the toilet. spit all over your face as your delicate features were covered by your runny makeup and spit. Jake buttoned up his pants, and fixed his shirt. you just sat there on the floor, crying suddenly what had happened hit you. “oh baby deer, don’t cry. you’ll see more of me later i promise… i still haven’t even fucked your tight virgin pussy..” he chuckled as he walked out of the stall.

leaving you crying on the floor, you heard the girls bathroom door open and shut. what a beautiful way of starting your first day of your dream school. how will god ever forgive you for the way you have sinned.

☥🦇 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪ - authors finishing note : i hope you guys enjoyed! i’m sorry for the bad grammar or writing. like i said it’s my first fic so pls be nice but feedback is always appreciated ♡

[sicko4smut]

Everybody’s A Suspect! | B. Floyd

synopsis: A string of murders in the fall of ‘84 in a small town shakes the residents of WoodSprings to their core

warnings: violence, murder, eventual smut, gore, porn with a whole lot of plot, inaccuracies of the 80s (have mercy), personal head cannons of characters/dynamics, dubious consent, pushy male characters who can’t take no, bullying, physical harm, other warnings i can’t think of right now

PSA- i do not own any characters, names, ideas, or royalties of the ‘Scream Franchise’ or ‘Top Gun Maverick’

CHAPTERS

📼 1.1 - A Body…In WoodSprings?

PLAYLIST 📻 (no particular order)

The Perfect Girl - Mareux

Dark Red - Steve lacey

Somebody’s Watching Me - Rockwell

Hidden In The Sand - Tally Hall

The Red Means I Love You - Madds Buckley

Smooth Criminal- Micheal Jackson

Arms Tonite - Mother Mother

Sippy Cup - Melanie Martinez ♪♫♪

─•────

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

MEET THE CHARACTERS

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ 🏈 - Jake Seresin as ‘Dumb Jock’

* Jake is captain of the football team and son of the town’s mayor, super rich boy vibes

* Wholeheartedly believes you and him should be together because he is captain of football team and your cheer captain

* All brawns no brain up there, his poor skull is sitting there collecting dust and head trauma from tackling. 🏆 𓈒⟡₊⋆∘˚⊹ ࿔

🎸⋆⭒˚｡- Bradley Bradshaw as ‘Punk Outcast’

* Rooster is a free-spirited, rule less, angsty, outcast

* Stays to himself and rarely ever talks, seriously no one has heard the guy say more than three words since high school

* working to put himself through college even though the stress from college and work is kinda making him flunk out

* Butts heads with Jake, two sides of different coins mixed with egos, passive aggression, and LOTS of testosterone leading to many physical fights between the boys. ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ! ‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚

☥🦇 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪ - Nat as ‘Freak Loner’

* Out of her nerdy, timid shell from high school and free as can be…Natasha has voiced her disdain for all oppressive nature and love of the unknown, terrifying, and paranormal.

* She doesn’t feel the need to pretend to be uninterested in her education to fit her aesthetic when all is said and done, Natasha wants something to call her own and a degree is just that. So she’s willing to swallow her pride on how the world forces you into school for years right into the capitalist system of working for even longer before screwing you over even more the longer you let the she sure won’t be quiet about it

* But don’t be fooled by her dark makeup, passionate outburst, and spooky demeanor as hard she tries to bury her, that nerdy timid girl within Nat keeps kicking no matter how hard she beats her down. 𓉸ྀི ✮₊⊹₊⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ⊹✮

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ -You as ‘The Town’s Sweetheart’

* You never wanted for anything in life for as long as you could remember, born with a silver spoon in your mouth however you were never snotty about it…never let it get to your head

* Miss goody-two-shoes as you were called was always the first one to volunteer your help whenever needed, first to be picked for the cheer team, first to speak up when someone was being bullied, first place in the Woodsprings beauty pageant, Prom Queen, Co-class president, captain of dance committee. It was all honestly a little overboard but you loved it all, love how busy it made you and how you were praised by seemingly everyone around you.

* Your family being the second wealthiest people in Woodsprings (thank you mommy and daddy) it was a given you never worried about how you were going to pay for college, the thought never crossing your mind until overhears sone peers complaining about how THREE jobs weren’t even enough to cover book fees so they would have to go to the local community college instead…it left you with an odd feeling never really having had the chance to acknowledge your privilege °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

⊹₊⟡⋆ 🔪 - Bob Floyd as ‘Ghostface’

* The man of the hour, our beloved robby. Fed up with being bullied and patronized, bob fights back…he didn’t mean for the guy ti die but he would be lying is he said he didn’t like the silence that came with one less of those loser gone.

* Sweet boy who lives with his single mother trying to help her pay bills by working a variety of on campus jobs, from handyman to security to library assistant…anything that pays to lighten the load off her back

* Geek Charming in the flesh, bob but always robby to you has always been super smart which is why he was head of chess club, class president, and valedictorian in high school and awarded a full-ride scholarship to Woodsprings University

* Robby has had a crush on you since the first grade, it’s honestly a mix between creepy and embarrassing how bad he had it for you but you rarely noticed him anyway. When you did seem to remember his existence you were always so sweet just like he knew you to be his sweet girl

🪓 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

• This a masterlist/promotion for a WIP soon to be fic

• All actual chapters will be published on my main account @smutmaniac

• Please like and reblog

[soberstardom]

☥ — 特殊🦇 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪

@soberstardom ‧₊˚🕷一緒‧₊˚

[catdiarie]

☥  ˖ִ ࣪ 🦇 icyhot.　⠀p. parker & t. stark . . .

( ♱ ) … ftm!peter hates his period. tony orders him to relax and take it easy. (tw: injury)

777 。。masterlist

Peter hates the school bus. He sits somewhere in the middle, mostly surrounded by little kids that like to scream at 7 in the morning and have an obsession with pulling all their belongings out from their bags and dropping them all across their seats and into the aisle. Peter won’t pick up another water bottle, he refuses. The back of the bus, though, has the older kids, from his grade and just below. They play inappropriate music, don’t stop gossiping, and make fun of everyone they can. Including him. 

With a groan, Peter slides down further into his seat. Everything just aches, from his throbbing temples to his binder-wrapped chest to his toes. There’s nothing to make it go away either, he ran out of Midol two days ago and hasn’t been able to get more since. God, he hopes that it’ll be a little quieter in school. He pops his headphones in—StarkTech, noise-cancelling dialed to 11 for his spider sensitivities—and dreams of being anywhere but on a creaking yellow bus filled with people he can’t stand.

The rest of the drive passes in a pain-filled haze. Several times Peter contemplates crying, the ache in his body worsening. He’s not sick, he knows that much. Took his temperature this morning and everything. It doesn’t matter so much, though, because he knows exactly what’s wrong and just can’t bear to admit it. He disembarks the bus, rounds to his locker, and meets up with Ned and MJ.

“You sure you’re alright, dude?” Ned asks again, concern painted clearly across his face.

“Yeah, I’m good. I promise,” Peter reassures him, even as a wave of nausea curls in his gut. As nice as it is that Ned cares, Peter would rather jump off the school than talk about this. He doesn’t want it to be happening, let alone let other people know that it’s happening. 

“Well, if you need anything, ask,” MJ says. The way she looks at him says she’s already got it all figured out. He smiles at her, tight and closed-lipped, in thanks. Unless he’s literally bleeding out across the floor, Peter doubts he’ll be asking for anything. “And drink hot things. Might help you feel better. But no caffeine,” she tacks on casually. 

Ned squints, looking between them like they’re speaking in code without him. “Right, what MJ said. Just ask! We can even fake an emergency and have you called out.”

“Thanks, guys,” Peter replies genuinely. “I appreciate it.”

And he does, is the thing. It just makes him feel a hundred times shittier that he can’t bring himself to tell them. It’s not even their business, really, he reassures himself. But, on the other hand, they wouldn’t have to worry. Or, Ned wouldn’t. MJ knows—she always knows. They head to class, Ned and MJ splitting off towards English while Peter heads for Calculus. 

Peter makes it until lunch, where he dramatically collapses into a chair beside MJ and, embarrassed and annoyed, asks for some Advil. He pops two and washes them down with water, watching as Ned comes back from getting his lunch.

“There was some girl, a freshman I think, up there getting her lunch and she started arguing that it’s stupid she has to take a fruit if she won’t eat it and that it makes more sense to leave it for someone who will eat it,” Ned relays the second he sits down. 

“Well, she’s not wrong,” Peter replies as he pulls the lid off his applesauce. His stomach is still queasy, but people have always been on him about the importance of eating when you feel horrible. “Kind of wasteful, really. They only make you do it because it’s required for them to hit all the food groups.”

The conversation tumbles into talk about assignments, upcoming tests, and, inevitably, questions about Spider-Man or Tony. 

“I still can’t believe you just, like, go to SI whenever you want and just use the labs—you use Tony Stark’s personal lab,” Ned exclaims. “It’s crazy.”

Peter chuckles and grins. “It’s kind of my lab, too. I have my own workbench and all. I have a whole space to make my web fluid, too.”

“So, when are we going to be invited?” MJ asks. “Since you live there half the time and all.”

“I don’t—I don’t live there,” Peter splutters. “I only go there when May works late or I need fixing up for Spider-Man or—”

“Peter, that’s half your life,” Ned interrupts. “MJ’s kind of right. When do we get to—”

“Shut up,” Peter laughs.  “Look, I don’t know. Mr. Stark’s a busy man.”

“Bet you’re going over there tonight,” MJ replies. She grins smugly when Peter flushes bright red.

“I hate you guys,” Peter complains. 

“Nah, you love us,” MJ says. “Not our fault you’re so predictable.”

Though lunch and the Advil brought relief, Peter is quickly back to feeling shitty again. By the time the final bell of the day rings, his entire body aches so horribly he thinks he might collapse. His chest is overly sore and he almost can’t pick between whether he should keep binding or not (he shouldn’t; it’s been eight hours).

The bus ride home is worse than the one to school was. Peter does cry this time, hood pulled tight over his head and earbuds snug in his ears. His intestines have tied themselves in knots. Nothing feels okay and it’s all just on the tipping side of too much. Peter has been hurt worse, but somehow, this feels like a kind of emotional and physical torture tied into one and topped with an ugly, garish bow.

When Peter gets home he collapses onto his bed and contemplates spending the rest of the night there. His duty to Spider-Man and promise to drop by to see Tony override his exhaustion. He pulls himself out of bed and suits up for patrol (sans binder—because his pain is worse than his gender dysphoria right now—but with layered sports bras and the compression of the suit). 

It goes to shit instantly, because the universe has had it out for Peter Parker since his birth. He nearly gets shot by a bank robber within the first hour of patrol and gets slammed into a wall so many times by the same guy trying to steal a car that he should be in jail for that as well. He helps a teenager with directions towards the subway station and a little girl catch her dog who’s run off down the street.

The next person he meets is a mercenary. Peter’s come face-to-face with them before—Deadpool is surprisingly sweet and always nice to him—but this one is out for blood of every kind. Peter’s energy has been steadily waning ever since he woke up, and a few Advil can only boost you so far. By the time the criminal is webbed up tightly to the wall, Peter’s sustained a gash to the thigh which is steadily leaking blood. 

Guilty as he feels about it, Peter makes the decision that patrol is over for the night. He sprays webbing over the wound and swings his way to Stark Industries. 

—

“Welcome, Peter,” FRIDAY says, voice ringing out as Peter drags himself through a window into the tower’s second living room—the one for Starks only. Climbing the tower is never fun, but it becomes significantly less enjoyable when it hurts like hell to put weight on one of your legs. “Would you like me to alert Boss to your presence?”

“Yes, please, FRIDAY,” Peter gets out through gritted teeth. He drags himself over to the couch and collapses onto it, fully drained of the last bit of adrenalized-energy he has. His fingers scramble at the edge of his mask as he attempts to pull it off, clumsy with pain. 

Tony walks into the room not five minutes later and by then Peter is teetering on the edge of passing out. His breaths are shallow, chest aching if he takes too deep of one. Tears are dried tacky on his cheeks and he’s just so fucking—embarassed. He’s a superhero. He shouldn’t be knocked down because of a slight knife wound and his period. 

Tony takes one look at him and says, “Oh, kid,” before Peter starts sobbing. 

Peter is helped to the bathroom—freakishly lavish and sparkling clean—where he strips out of his suit and switches into the change of clothes (soft sweatpants and one of Tony’s old shirts) that Tony brings him. They set about his wound next, Tony cleaning it and wrapping it in gauze while Peter sits on the closed toilet. He refused a doctor—not willing to suffer the embarrassment of being seen by one without his binder, even Dr. Cho—and Tony deemed the wound not deep enough to be in need of stitches. 

By the time they finish, Peter is a little more alert but still feels like his muscles are throbbing and the lingering embarrassment and shame haven’t gone away. Just as Tony tosses the first aid kit back below the sink, Peter’s stomach growls. He doesn’t have the gall to even be embarrassed about it; he hasn’t eaten since lunch and it’s now well into the evening. 

“Suit, gone. Wound, patched. Food, next up on the list,” Tony says, flashing Peter a reassuring grin. Peter grins back, much weaker and lacking…anything. He sways back and forth slightly, head feeling as though it’s too heavy to hold up. “Hey, hey, hey.”

Tony catches him just before he can fall. His face is scrunched up in worry and he presses the back of his hand to Peter’s forehead. He frowns and says, “You’re burning up. What else happened, just the leg wound or something else?”

Peter shrugs weakly, unwilling still to talk about it. He doesn’t want to tell Tony he’s on his period, even if it would be nice to get some medicine and maybe a heating pad or hot water bottle. 

“Want to take anything?” Tony pulls open the medicine cabinet behind the mirror. “Let’s see, Tylenol, Advil, Midol—”

“Midol,” Peter interrupts. “Please.”

Tony tosses the packet to him without question, and Peter quickly downs the medicine. The idea that he even needs to take “for menstrual relief” pills is something that feels disgusting, but the pain-free breeze that they bring negates it ever so slightly. He hands the packet back to Tony and slumps against the toilet’s tank. 

“Leftover pizza sound alright?” Tony prompts when Peter doesn’t say anything. His face is softened with the gentle concern Peter has only ever seen directed at three people: himself, Morgan, and Pepper. It’s moments like this where Peter wants to cry the most. Somewhere between superhero mentor and genius guide, Tony also became something like a—dad.

“Yeah,” Peter replies. “And we can watch Star Wars?”

“Always, kid,” Tony replies. “Always.”

Peter gets bundled up on the coach with a number of soft, fuzzy blankets and a hot water bottle pressed against his abdomen. They eat cold pizza while A New Hope drones on quietly in the background. Peter still feels like shit, but he’s a little more relaxed about it now, safe and warm in the penthouse with Tony—and a myriad of others, such as the doctors—to help if need be.

—

Peter wakes up squirming and crying in pain, his stomach aching. He’s shivering too, and he registers the pain of all these before anything else. The room is dark now; the TV and lights are off. Peter can just make out the faint print of the time—3:37—from the clock sitting on the kitchen island. He also realizes that Tony is still here, asleep at the opposite end of the couch. 

He wants to call out to him, say that he feels a little like he’s dying and is really actually scared he might, even though this happens every time and he always ends up okay at the end of the week. A cramp kicks in and Peter’s leg jerks out, jostling the pillow by Tony’s head. 

Tony shoots up like a firecracker. Ever the light sleeper—Peter, meanwhile, can and has slept through fire alarms. 

“Kid? What’s wrong?” Tony asks worriedly when Peter only stares at him like a deer in headlights. Another wave of pain hits and Peter’s face screws up in a wince.

“My stomach hurts,” Peter admits lowly after a long moment of tense silence. The next thing he knows he’s being rushed downstairs, a blanket still tangled in his legs as Tony carries him like he’s a little kid. It would freak Peter out, suddenly being picked up and transported, if he didn’t know Tony’s been witness to him saying that a gunshot wound isn’t “that big a deal.” Peter rests his head against Tony’s shoulder and lets himself get ushered to the med bay. 

“You’re freezing,” Tony mutters as he walks down the hallway and pushes through the final door to medical. The lights here are blinding and Peter hides his face with a groan. “Burning up with fever before you fell asleep and now you’re colder than Cap when he got broken out of that ice cube.”

“Spidersicle,” Peter murmurs with a grin. It’s a dumb joke that’s been made a hundred times, but Tony laughs at it anyway. 

Over the next hour, Peter is poked and prodded so many times that he almost punches a nurse in the face. Well, not really, and Dr. Cho’s assistant is probably very nice, but if she doesn’t stop staring, Peter swears he’s going to. The room he’s in is bare too—bed, window, chair. Not even a TV, nothing to distract himself with besides his own thoughts.

“I would recommend birth control,” Dr. Cho says to Tony. “There’s nothing medically wrong with him; his menstrual cycle is simply far more intense. Unfortunately, it’s just like that for some people.”

Tony glances over at Peter, who buries his head in his hands and wishes the ground would swallow him up right now. “It’s  up to you, kid.”

“And the birth control—” Peter tries not to look repulsed but he’s not sure he succeeds by the way Tony cuckles “—would help?”

“It would regulate your menstrual cycle and reduce the blood flow and pain, yes,” Dr. Cho says. 

“Then…yeah. I guess. Better than this, right?” Peter replies, gesturing to himself laid up in the hospital-esque bed. 

Dr. Cho smiles at him reassuringly before she walks out of the room. Tony sits on the edge of Peter’s bed, reaching out to squeeze his hand. 

“God, I love that woman. Would probably not be doing so hot without her.”

“Yeah, Dr. Cho’s pretty great,” Peter responds. He slumps back against his pillows with a groan. “This sucks. I hate hospitals.”

“Yeah, me too, kid. Not too many great memories here,” Tony says with a sigh. “But you’re getting help, and that’s always a positive.”

“Something like that,” Peter responds with a weak smile. “But I’m also really bored—I mean, there’s not even a TV in here! Most hospitals have that, so patients who are just lying around—like me—can have something to do.”

Tony chuckles at that and Peter continues on. “I’m hungry, too. Can I have something to eat? My stomach’s still queasy, so maybe like soup? Man, I could go for some soup right now.”

“Yes, you can get soup,” Tony responds, shaking his head. “An hour ago I thought you were dying and now you’re back to talking a mile a minute.”

“Yeah, well, I’m pretty resilient, I guess,” Peter says with a grin. “I always bounce back. Maybe that should be my thing, instead of ‘friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.’”

“Let’s cool it with the superhero talk. Right now, kid, you’re just Peter. No world saving, no ‘helping the little guys,’ okay? You are the little guy, and the little guy needs to rest.”

“...I really want that soup, Mr. Stark.”

Another laugh and shake of his head and Mr. Stark places an order to someone within the building to bring soup to infirmary room 13A. 

“There. Your soup’s on the way. Happy now?”

“Yeah,” Peter says, voice rawer with emotion than he anticipated. “I’m happy now.”

[cemeterydolll]

𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔦𝔠 𝔳𝔞𝔪𝔭𝔦𝔯𝔢 ☥ 🦇 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪ (ft me + vintage lingerie)

[officiallunablack]

「 How have you all been?!🦇❤️」

•

「 Starting to come back out of hiding lol, I was sick for all of March which totally bites but I’m all better now! For the few days I’m was doing okay, I did get to work on some hobbies of mine and change up my hair. I’ve been mostly gardening and helping build two greenhouses with my love. We are also thinking about getting chickens soon! I’ll have more updates on that later! 」

•

☥ Outfit by @hottopic

#htfxfebmusthaves

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[blodwyrm]

𝖘𝖕𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖙 𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖔𝖓𝖘 ☥🦇 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪ follow the link to offer if interested!

[lavriens]

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☬

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▶ • ılıılılılılılıılılı. 0

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[littlestarkei]

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆☥🦇 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ atsushi sakurai (buck-tick) | song: heavy metal lover - lady gaga