The Mysterious Prom Date (Part 1): Peter Parker Series
Warnings: mention of vomit and allergies but as a joke nothing bad happens, food, embarrassment, adorable little Peter Parker
A/N: This was not a request. I’ve been working on this as a little “I’m Sorry” for not being active. If you like it, and ask, I may make this a series! I have a lot of ideas for it :)
(not my gif)
Blind dates aren’t exactly something you participate in willingly. They were always awkward and if you ended up not liking the guy, you’d end up stuck having dinner with some conceited jerk who only talks about his muscles or how many people he’s dated. Yeah, not fun.
If you thought blind dates were bad, imagine a blind date… to prom.
A/N: Hello hello! I feel like this is where I start apologizing to you all for what’s about to happen. This will probably keep happening until it’s over. And if that’s not a warning, I don’t know what is.
[A/N] I wish I could wake up with amnesia, but then I don’t want to forget about you and that pretty smile you have. Dear reader, will you smile for me today?
The Private Investigator: Jung Daehyun
He had always been watching. He did nothing more than that. He knew everything about you. Your daily schedules, to the place you frequent to, to the habits you have that you don’t necessarily realise having it. Daehyun knows what you liked and disliked. Daehyun knows you to the core. And you don’t necessarily know that. How far did he know?
He knows why you take the bus in daylight. He knows you take the same bus but don’t really go anywhere. You went to the train station but never got on any of it. You went back when people starts to pour in to make it look like you go home from work. Daehyun was always on the watch. He had his binoculars on him to spy on you. And he spoke to himself a lot, “Where are you heading? Why do you always do this.” And his questions were never answered.
He looked through the binoculars at you. When he first started as a private investigator, he had to overcome a lot of shortcomings. He was a tad too inexperienced in his field and he learnt the hard way that experiences truly helps in getting his name in the industry. His egotistical demeanor tend to get him in a lot of trouble but he paved his own style of investigation and a few police station had come to mimick his strategy. He didn’t necessary hates it. It just shows how the authority is lack creativity. But what he didn’t like, is when they took credit for what he did.
Request: So like mobster!barry has a private party for a business meeting and sees stripper!reader on stage. After the meeting he asks for the reader specifically anD YEAH I DONT KNOW
a/n: ANOTHER MOB BOSS BARRY? *gasp*
WARNING: Smut (handjobs)
The club has never been this full. That’s because Barry Allen has never been here, until tonight. He rented the whole strip club for a private meeting with his dear old friend, Oliver Queen. Yes, Oliver’s wife is here as well. Felicity’s been with his mob before, so it’s okay that she hears what they discuss.
Through the conversation, his eyes wander over to the stage, noticing a certain stripper. You’re dressed up in a sexy piece of lingerie, that looks to mock a police’s uniform, but much, much more revealing. The shiny black leather just barely covers your breasts, traveling up your shoulders, exposing your stomach. There’s a thin pair of underwear connecting your thigh-high black stockings, all topped off with the A-typical police hat.
His gray skinny jeans grow tighter and tighter on his groin as he watches you sashay up and down the sleek black stage. The dim lights hit the curves of your body so perfectly. Barry is making you his. Since he’s one of the well-known mob boss’, what he wants, he gets. And, fuck, he wants you so bad.
When Oliver seals the deal, his bodyguards escort him out; the head one, John Diggle, protectively huddles around Felicity. Licking his lips, Barry stands up from the leather semi-circle couch, stepping his black dress shoes toward Cisco. “Here, buddy, have a fucking blast.” he smirks, reaching into his tan jacket and pulling out a stack of bills. Cisco’s brown eyes widen at the mob boss. “When I get back, we bolt. Understood?”
Barry pats his friend’s face, rings thumping against skin, then walks toward the back while Cisco rubs his hand over the stack, flinging bills on the stage. The mob boss eyes you, grinning wickedly when he catches your attention. The two of you keep walking, never breaking your stares until you disappear behind the opaque curtain. He clenches his hands, sneaking behind the stage area.
“Hey, buddy, you know that pretty little thing in the police uniform?” he questions to the owner, who nods curtly. Barry puts on a Cheshire grin, removing a bill from his pocket, “Bring ‘er to me, yeah? I’ll be in that-” he points to a vacant spot nestled in the corner, “booth, waiting. Don’t disappoint.” he orders, sticking the bill in the owner’s shirt before strutting toward the empty booth.
On the way, his hand sports a bottle of beer, rings clincking on the brown translucent bottle as he plops himself on the leather semi-circle seat. His arms hang loosely behind him, resting on the top of the booth. He shoots Cisco a smirk from across the room, quickly refocusing his green eyes in front of him when you show up. “Mr. Allen, I presume?” you quip seductively, trailing your finger down the vally of your breasts.
Barry shifts down on the couch, bringing his beer to his lips, “The one and only.” he mumbles before taking a sip of his drink. “Show me whatcha got, baby.” he purrs, leaning forward to set his beer on the small circular table in the middle of the booth. He props his elbows on his jean-clad knees, intertwining his fingers together in front of his lips.
“Your wish is my command.” you smirk, unzipping the zipper in between your breasts, letting them fall out of the tight fabric. He sits up straighter when you slowly strut closer to him, climbing on his lap. “This okay, boss?” you ask in a teasing way, hand traveling from his navy button down, down south to the tiny zipper of his jeans.
An arm snakes around your waist, holding you in place, and multiple cold rings indenting your skin. “By all means, do continue, doll.” Barry encourages, hearing his pants come undone. Soon, his hard cock is out of his boxers, slapping against his button down. “You gonna help me, eh?” he smirks, feeling you grip him.
You fix your hair with your free hand, pumping him up and down. “I only do handjobs.” you inform, squeezing the base, making him moan, throwing his head back. “Maybe next time, big boy.” you grin, boobs hanging out in front of him as you stroke his length, teasing the tip with your thumb. A few more pumps causes his fingers to grip your hips tighter.
Barry stares you directly in the eyes, brown hair askew, “Oh, damn right there’ll be a next time, baby.”