#peter parker x latina!reader

[thecrystalquill]

Lux ~ Part Five

Peter Parker x Santana!Reader - Diablo’s Daughter

Marvel/DC Crossover

A/N: A bit of angsty feels here, all Chato being a good dad :’) Also a bit of Peter’s POV at the end of this one. Let me know what you think.

Masterlist     Series Masterlist

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Chapter Five ~ Aftermath

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         She’d managed to stay low until she reached her apartment, drawing no attention to herself and keeping her head low. The second she saw her home in sight, she ran to safety. Fumbling for her keys, she unlocked the front door with shakey hands and sprinted up the stairs to her door at 8B. Throwing open the door and slamming it behind her, (Y/N) slumped against the cool, mahogany-stained wood and tried to breathe.

        Footsteps came from the hallway and she looked up to see her dad looking ready for a fight. She probably should have let him know it was only her and not some sort of FBI organised attack. “(Y/N).” He sighed, loosening his shoulders in relief. “You scared me there.” Only then did he notice her short, shallow breaths and the undeniable smell of smoke. His stomach dropped, hoping to god he was imagining it. “What happened?”

        With just those two words, it was like a dam wall breaking.

        Hot tears ran down her cheeks as her shoulders shook with sobs. She tried to wipe the tears away, but they dropped to the floor despite her efforts, making little ‘tss’ sounds as they hit the tile, like candles snuffed out between damp fingers. Immediately, she was cradled in her father’s tight grip; holding her to his chest in the way he did when she had a nightmare. “I- I- I- d-didn’t mean to…” She spluttered out between gasped cries, clinging to his shirt.

        Shushing her softly, Chato did his best to remain calm, despite the fear in his nerves. “Calm down, mija. Just breathe. It’s okay, you can tell me in a minute.” He kissed the top of her head as she bawled, pushing all his other worries aside as he focused on her. “Estás bien, nena. Calma. No pasa nada…”

        It felt like hours had passed by the time (Y/N) had cried all her tears. Her lungs still shook when she tried to take a deep breath, and she felt weak from all the energy she’d used, but she could finally look up to meet her father’s eyes.

        By now they’d already moved to the sofa in the living room, a good thing too; she was sure she might have collapsed if she’d stood too long. Chato dried her tears with the corner of the red, orange, and pink granny square blanket he’d wrapped around her shoulders; they found in a thrift store a few years ago, flower-patterned squares sewn together by hand – it was her favourite. She bunched the fabric up to her chest as she leaned on him, breathing in the fabric softener to calm the last of her nerves some.

        “What happened, mija?” Chato patiently waited, letting her gather her thoughts.

        She tried for a deep breath, still shakey but stable. “I-I… some guy tried to mug me a-and… he had a gun ‘nd…” she sniffled, wiping away another tear as the man’s screams echoed in her ears, “h-he tried to attack m-me and I… I lost control…” Her voice shook, a new rush of tears spilling from her eyes.

        Chato’s eyes darkened at the thought of some low-life hurting his daughter, just for a second, before they softened at her crying. He assumed the guy got what he deserved, sure – but the weight on (Y/N)’s chest was a burden she didn’t deserve to carry. He didn’t need to ask, he knew what happened just by her reaction and the brief explanation she’d given him; he remembers the first time this sort of thing happened to him – losing control in a fight, letting the demon within take the reigns, the fire and destruction that followed – the first death he was responsible for. Though, unfortunately, he couldn’t say it was the last.

        Pulling back to wipe her tears, her father did his best to sound calm. “It’s alright, you’re fine.” He said, watching her take another unsteady breath. “Did anyone see?”

        (Y/N) shook her head, fiddling with the blanket in her fingers. “No I- I don’t think so. I didn’t see anyone.”

        “Okay,” He nodded, a look of determination crossing his face. “Here’s what we’re gonna do, everything you’ve got on you – you’re clothes, your shoes, your jacket – we put it all in the sink and destroy it. Okay?”

        “What? Why?”

        Chato got up to clear some plates from the sink. “Just in case, okay? We don’t want anything leading back to you.”

        It made sense, she’d have to admit. But somehow, even in all this chaos, a thought crossed her mind that she didn’t really want to get rid of her things. Though in all fairness, she was overdue some new shoes.

        What the hell did she get herself into?

        Sliding his I.D. card across the screen, Peter opened the door as it clicked open for him. Tony Stark’s lab was probably his favourite place; the whole floor was like a nerd’s wonderland, and every time he entered it gave him a weird, exciting buzz. He had every part of the room mapped out to the smallest details, every machine from the numerous super computers to the coffee machine. The rest of the building, however, was still a maze. And he could come and go as he pleased.

        “Mr Stark?” He called out, wandering further in.

        “Over here, kid.” Tony replied from somewhere to his left.

        Peter followed in its direction until he came to the long, curved desk displaying Tony’s numerous computers. Tony beckoned him over with a wave of his hand, staring intently at his computer screen. “Hey, Mr Stark. Sorry I’m late, I got lost again and I had to ask Mr B for directions but he said--”

        “Yeah yeah, doesn’t matter.” Tony dismissed, taking off his glasses to face Peter completely. He was going to remind Peter to just call him Tony, but he might as well give up on that for now. Instead he moved the computer screen to angle between them. “I wanted to show you something.” He clicked the space-bar and a grainy video started to play. Tony muttered something about enhancing the quality the best he could, but Peter paid little attention as he watched. A mugger dragged someone into an alley, a figure in plain black and a hoodie. There was no audio, but the angle of the camera showed the man’s blurry face, obviously shouting something as he waved the gun about. All they could see was the back of the hooded victim, backing up in fear. “This was uploaded to Youtube last night,” Tony explained, as the victim finally started to fight back – obviously someone who knew what they were doing. “Someone leaked it from the store’s security camera.” It was hard to see exactly what happened, but the mysterious person’s hands lit up and a burst of fire sent the mugger back, hitting his head on the dumpster and falling in a limp, fiery heap. The whole alley started to catch fire, and the other person ran backwards, out of shot.

        “Where was this?” Peter asked, staring in shock at the scene as Tony paused it.

        Tony sighed. “Queens. About ten minutes from… uh… what’s it called? That deli you always talk about?”

        “Delmar’s?” Peter gasped, a guilty expression on his face. He should’ve been there, if he hadn’t got detention for falling asleep in English. He really needed to stop going on patrol so late.

        “Yeah, that.” Tony answered, pointing back to the screen. “It’s gone viral already. Now we gotta figure out if Hot Head over here is a threat.”

        “And you want me to…?” Peter asked, staring at the burning corpse in front of him; the lines were kinda blurry, but it was in self defence, right? Even if it was a horrific attack.

        Leaning back in his seat, Tony patted Peter on the back, coaxing him to look his way. “I want you to keep an eye out. Anything at all that you think is relevant, I want you to call me.”

Tag List:

@fandom-strumpet

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@j-s-l-m

@emily2003alzaga

@slytherinroyalty16

#peter parker x reader #mcu peter parker x reader #peter parker x mutant!reader #peter parker x metahuman!reader #peter parker x dc!reader #mcu peter parker #peter parker #Peter Parker x Latina!reader #Peter Parker x Santana!reader #marvel/dc crossover #lux series #x reader #x y/n #marvel x reader #diablo x santana!reader #chato santana x daughter!reader #dc x reader #suicide squad x reader

[navisakura]

Is anyone else pleasantly surprised at the sheer amount of black, latino and other poc!reader fics that have come out of the ATSV fandom? Like it’s normally so rare to find fanfics with a poc or a dark/brown skinned reader in mind but seeing so many different people integrate their culture and background into their work is genuinely heartwarming

#miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #hobie brown x reader #gwen stacy x reader #miles morales x reader #pavitr x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #peter b parker x reader #atsv x reader #fanfiction #spider punk x reader #spidergwen x reader #reader insert #self insert #across the spiderverse #hobie x reader #gwen x reader #black reader #latina reader #native american reader #atsv #atsv fic #hispanic reader #spiderman 2099 x reader

[peterporkerfan]

sketchbook [earth 1610!miles morales x latina!reader]

word count: 1.2k

warnings: fluff, light cursing, kissing, relationship insecurities, lots of spanglish

a/n: i’m a puerto rican whose first language is spanish, so nothing here is google translated i promise 💀

It was a hot June afternoon, and the air was sizzling all over the city.

You and Miles laid on his bed, side by side, with his arm draped around your shoulder. The AC was on full blast, and Miles’ favorite album sounded all around the room. You were both humming and singing along contently. You looked up at him smiling every once in a while, and he’d look back, smiling even wider.

“Baby, do you hear this? No one does it like Kendrick. His music is on a whole ‘nother level.” He smiled back down at you, looking at you with sheer adoration.“You know, Gwen and I…we’d listen to him all the time when she’d swing by. I love his music.”

“Remember when your favorite rapper was Post Malone?” You joked, and he looked away awkwardly.

“Yeah…we don’t—we don’t talk about that.”

You laughed and you brought your hands to his cheeks, bringing him closer and kissing him deeply. He smiled into the kiss, bringing his hands to your waist and pulling you towards him until you were laying on top of him.

You pull away from the kiss, and look down at Miles while you smile.

“I’ve never met anyone like you, Miles. Eres otra cosa.”

Miles smiled back at you, feeling so lucky to have someone like you in his life. “Just wait until you meet Peter, Hobie, or Gwen…especially Gwen. She’s the coolest person ever. You two would get along really well.” Miles rambled.

“I’m sure we would.” You smiled back at your boyfriend, knowing how much he cared about his friends.

“Miles, mijo! Baja un momentito. I need your help with something!” Mrs. Morales shouted from downstairs.

“Coming, Ma!” Miles shouted back, turning his head in the direction of the opened door.

“A mi tú no me grites!”

Miles sighed, “I’ll be back ya mismo”

“I’ll be right here” You smiled at him. Miles smiled back and walked out, leaving you alone in his room.

When Miles shut the door, you stood up from your position, sitting with your legs crossed on the edge of the twin sized bed. You took in his room, and how much it reminded you of him. His collectible figurines, countless posters of his favorite rappers and albums, and the constant clutter on his floor. You spotted his sketchbook on the ground right in front of you, and felt a sudden urge to pick it up.

Miles was generally open about most things with you, however he kept his drawings to himself. You never questioned it as maybe he just thought they were embarrassing or too personal. You slowly picked up the book and started flipping through its pages. At first you were met with images of his uncle, his suit, and the streets of Brooklyn. You smiled faintly as you flipped through, appreciating how utterly talented your boyfriend was. However, you were suddenly met with countless images of someone whose name you’d never forget: Gwen.

Miles’ face would always light up when he mentioned Gwen. You never thought much of it, however, there were so many drawings of her in his sketchbook, which must’ve taken hours to make, with every little detail about her captured on the paper. You began to feel an unfamiliar pain take over you, and you put the sketchbook down where you got it from. God, she was gorgeous. And cool. Of course Miles liked her…I mean who wouldn’t? The way he described her made her seem so…captivating. Before the thought took over you completely, Miles walked into the room again, holding a large laundry basket and setting it down besides his bed. You tried to change your expression, looking up at your boyfriend like you usually would.

“That’s a lot of clothes to sort through. Que mierda.” Miles sighed.

“You need any help?”

“Yeah, actually. That’d be pretty good.”

“Cual es la palabra mágica?” You teased, batting your eyes at him playfully.

Miles narrowed his eyes at you, acting playfully annoyed. “Please?”

You walked towards him and gave him a kiss on the cheek, and leaned down to sort through the clothes in the basket.

“I think you might’ve outgrown this sweater a while ago.” You held it out so Miles could see. It was an orange cardigan, with patches embroidered into it.

“Haha, very funny, Y/N. That’s Gwen’s. She left it here last time que visitó.”

“Y tú—you wear it?” You asked, feeling the uneasiness you felt before come rushing back.

“Course not. Mami probably threw it in the laundry basket sorting through my room at some point.”

“Oh.”

“It’s nice to have something of her’s though. Just to remember her by.”

Some time went by and you continued to fold clothes while a question bubbled inside you. Finally, after a long silence, you asked.

“Miles, tú—do you still…”

“Do I still what, mi amor?”

“Have feelings for…”

Miles furrowed his brows. “For…Gwen?”

“I mean, you talk about her so much and I didn’t mean to violate your privacy or anything but I may or may not have looked through your sketchbook filled with drawings of her. And don’t get me wrong the drawings are really good pero—”

Miles interrupted your senseless ramble. “Mi amor…”

“Qué?”

“You don’t seriously think that I like her, right?”

“Well, I don’t know. I mean I wouldn’t blame you for it, you know. You did once before, you could again but—“

“Baby…those drawings are old, did you go through the whole thing?”

“No, not really. I guess I thought I’d seen…enough.”

Miles picked up the sketchbook off the ground and flipped through it. He handed it to you and looked at you with adoration as he did so (unbeknownst to you, as you were staring down at your shoes with shame). You flipped the page from a drawing of Gwen and saw it: countless drawings of you. All done when you thought he wasn’t looking. A drawing of you looking at the board in math class, sitting across the room from Miles (only because the teacher thought you two were “too chatty” when you sat together). A drawing of you sitting on your windowsill with headphones on, drowning out the world around you. A drawing of you walking towards Miles, smiling at him. The drawings continued for countless pages, and your eyes began to water as you looked back up at Miles.

“You did all these…de mi?”

“Claro, you’re my girl. Why would I not?” Miles’ brows furrowed as he looked towards you.

“Dios mio, I’m so sorry for thinking you liked her. Soy tan estupida a veces.”

“Nah, don’t be, and you’re not. Yo soy el que es medio pendejo every once in a while. That’s on me.” Miles laughed.

“Y Miles, these drawings are really good. Why hadn’t you shown me?”

“I thought you wouldn’t—ay, no se. I thought you’d think they were stupid or something, I guess.” Miles mumbled, looking down at his shoes.

“Stupid? Miles, these are…you’re crazy talented. Are you kidding me?”

“Thanks…” Miles blushed as he smiled back at you faintly.

“Alright, well… enough of this sappy shit. Where were we?”

“Laundry.” Said Miles.

“Right, laundry.”

“Do we reeeeally want to do the laundry though?” Miles asked, hoping you’d just say no.

“Fuck no.” You laughed.

“Great!” You laughed as Miles webbed you back to were you were before, laying side by side on his bed.

You looked up at him. “Can I choose the music now?”

“Fine, baby. Play whatever you want.”

You unlocked his phone and searched for a Spanish pop song you knew Miles hated.

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Seriously…”

“Miles, si no es así te vas a convertir en un gringo. Con esa B en español, imagínate…”

“Alright, alright…lo que tu digas, mami.” He laughed, kissing the top of your head.

As the song played and you sung along to each word, Miles became sure of one thing:

He’d never let you go.

send me requests for whatever (no smut and only latina or white/race not specified reader please)!! i’ll write mainly for miles morales but i’ll take requests for anyone else spiderverse/spiderman!!

#miles morales x reader #spiderman #spiderman into the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #miles morales 1610 #peter parker #fluff #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #earth 1610 miles #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #miles morales #miles morales x latina reader #miles borales blurb #earth 1610 miles morales #earth 1610 miles morales x latina reader

[way-of-love]

I Didn’t Ask! (Miguel O'Hara x FemReader) (R-Rated)(ONE SHOT) (NO MINORS)

Miguel has been seeing you for a while. There’s no title on the type of relationship you have and you’re alright with that. But you’re tired of always being the bottom. Always giving him what he wants. So what about you? You had wants. And tonight you will show him just how bossy you could be. But in the end you wondered just how deep you’ve fallen into the hole of his.

Warning: CHOKING; BREEDING; CUSSING; FemDom(SLIGHTLY); Friends with benefits; talks of impregnation; and we curse the name of Peter B. Parker! (Jk he’s the best); slight male whimpering

Enjoy! ❤️

You couldn't stand him anymore! Not when he was acting more of a dick than usual. Sex here, sex there, you always gave it to him whenever he...he never asked.

He gave you this signal with his red eyes and then a small gesture with his head as to not draw attention whenever he was out being Spider-Man. As if people in Nueva York really cared that he was banging some reporter from the 'Nueva York Times'. You thought it was really cute! A super hero fucking the top reporter to keep her from revealing his true identity to the world!

How romantic.

In fact, it was so romantic that every time he saved the day and you weren't around to witness it he'd come all the way to your apartment to tell you about it when he was balls deep inside you!

Don't get yourself wrong, you really liked the guy but he didn't take no for an answer. He'd end up sedusing you and then you both end up in bed together. No more.

You were tired of being his bottom bitch taking all the hits until he went soft inside you. Tonight would be completly differet.

Yeah, totally. Just get him to relax a bit and release once or twice, then you'd strike.

You hummed in agreement with yourself around the cock that was gliding in and out of your drooling mouth. Miguels hands encased your head keeping it still as he used it for his own pleasure. At this point you weren't sure if he wanted to keep you quiet about his identity and what he was doing with his little spider army or if he really just liked you.

For some strange reason the first one sounded more like him than the latter. But you know, you could be wrong. By the sounds of his deep moans you could be very wrong.

“Fuck— Chiquita…you know exactly what I like.” He mumbled in ecstasy as his fingers slowly slipped into your hair and grabbed a fistful of it.

It didn’t hurt. It never did but you hated it. He ends up always messing up your hair with his need to grab things when he was on the urge of release. With the plan you were concocting you needed him to be as pleased as can be.

So when his release came he’d go to mount you then you’d make your plan into reality.

And when he came with a shudder, the toss back of his head and a hiss through his fanged teeth you, being the docile little receiver of his seed sucked slowly, as if you were truly enjoying this. Tongue swiping left and right on his underside as he throbbed with each string of his release.

Before you knew it he was pull out of your mouth with an loud wet pop. You swallowed whatever was left over and stood when he grabbed for you.

“Y/N this mouth of yours… I don’t even want to know how many others you’ve sucked off to like that,” Miguel scoffs before a light chuckle follows suit as if what he said was purely amusing.

Cocky bastard.

“Hmmm. You’re right, I don’t think you wanna know.” You smirk with your head tilted and a finger wiping the corner of your mouth.

Now that certainly irked him. His amused grin immediately dropped and his jaw was set.

He took hold of your upper arm and gently urged to you bend over the bed he was once sitting on while getting serviced, “Shut up and bend over,” He began to mumble while his suit began to digitize away.

“‘You’re right I don’t think you wanna know.’” He mocked under his breath placing his hands on your bare hips but before you could bend, you turned in his arms and smiled up innocently at him. Miguel just starred at you with an annoyed expression and a heavy erection. (BA DUM TSSS)

“What?” He snapped.

“I want to try something new,” Your lips perked a bit and your hands slowly came up to his fore arms, his hands settled on your round hips.

Before Miguel can filter what you meant by new he assumed ‘new’ as in, a new hole.

“Anal? But I thought you needed to be prep—“ You quickly covered his mouth with your hand and pinched the bridge of your nose with the other while closing your eyes.

He simply looked annoyed while looking down at you expectantly.

“No Miguel. I mean— yes, I have to prepare for anal but that’s not what I’m talking about!” You took your hands back and clasped them together.

“Miguel, I want to be on top. I want to ride you,” You made sure to say so very very slowly so he can fully understand. Sometimes to you he had the same IQ as a five year old learning something new for the first time.

And with Miguel… let’s just say he was very old fashioned when it came down to the sex department. He barely knew what a blow job was until he met you and now that he tasted it from you there was definitely no going back for him.

Miguel’s brows furrowed once more as he looked at you wondering what you meant by riding.

“So…you mean you want to be on top when we fuck?”

You nod your head slowly turning back around to pat the mattress with a stunning smile,” Exactly. You get to lay down here and you get to have me bounce, and bounce and bounce on your lap until you’re completely satisfied.”

He pretended like it didn’t interest him but deep down you knew he was a sucker for a woman who took control. So to urge him a bit to do it you crawled into bed and sat down on your knees fully naked. You lightly touched your breasts with the tips of your fingers and with the other hand you beckoned him towards you with a finger.

“You’ll like it baby, I promise,” Your voice was soft, barely above a whisper but you knew he heard you.

He tensed up and his wet cock jerked up a bit. He’d never seen you so…seductive before. It was as if you’ve been possessed by something. Miguel slowly crawled into bed after you making sure he got close to your face and inhaled taking in your scent. His red eyes seemed to darken in color as he examined your face. Were you possessed?

“You never ask anything of me. Yet, you ask this? You better not be up to something Y/N.” He whispered in his authoritative tone of his.

You weren’t fazed at all and all you did was keep that sweet smile but you did giggle when he made eyes contact with you. Neither one of you said anything. Neither one had to.

Because you both knew.

That Miguel was the bitch and you were going to prove it.

It didn’t take long for him to get used to being the one at the bottom of someone’s pleasure because was always the one giving it to them. No one has ever offered to ride him or even pleasure him the way you did. Hell, he barely had time to fuck his own hand when the fate of the multiverse was in his hands.

But with you he reached new heights, new pleasures he never knew he could reach and right now as you bounced up and down his thick rod while mewling like a cat he knew this was a height he’d want to reach all the time.

Your hands stayed on his chest to help you balance yourself as your hips rose and slammed down on him repeatedly. And Miguel was holding himself back from moaning too loud, because men never vocalized their pleasure during the deed.

“Bullshiiiiittt!~” You tossed your head back with mix of a laugh and a moan. He was moaning when he was fucking your mouth like a teenage boy! Oh God, the things you’d do to him if only he’d let go of his masculine pride!

You came to a slow stop and looked back down at the big bad Spider-Man seeing sweat dripping down his brow and his teeth clenching. The poor guy looked like he was struggling to keep it all together. What a pity if only he would just let go and feel good like he should. Licking your lips you smiled and slowly rolled your hips forward feeling his cock rub against your inner walls.

Miguel tilted his head back further into the pillows causing his back to arch a bit. His hands tightened around your thighs clawing at the plush skin there as if threatening to make you please him. You did it again and again until he was panting and bucking his hips up into you.

Fuck. This was so hot. He looked so docile silently begging you to ride him, to fuck him and make him cum but poor little you didn’t want to.

Slowly you loomed over him, your hands sliding up his pecks. Your palms sliding over his pebbled nipples making him hiss out. And finally your delicate hands touched his neck.

You took a breath waiting for him to reject you or to glare at you but it never came. Miguel simply bucked his hips up into yours again but gently, giving you the permission you didn’t know you were waiting for.

“Oh Miguel, papito,” You cooed softly with a tilt of your head as your fingers encased his neck giving it a gentle squeeze not really expecting a reaction from him.

He groaned out loud and his dick jumped within you. His hands squeezed your thighs tighter.

Oh?

Did he like this?

Releasing a soft giggle under your breath you began to rock your hips back and fourth a bit quicker. Your walls squeezed around him, and just as your walls did so did your fingers.

“Do you… like this Miguel?” You lean over him with your hands still around his throat.

He simply looks at you with a burning gaze of lust that sent a whole shiver of pleasure down your spine.

“M-Mhm,” The one response, deep and needy made you all but want to squeal and ride him like a deprived bitch. Shit. You didn’t think he’d sound so…submissive.

This whole thing of dominating over him felt, empowering. As if you were meant to do this! You no longer rocked on his lap you now were back to riding. Hips rising and falling on his lap, cock being swallowed by your greedy hot cunt and your wet skin slapping against each other.

Your hands squeezed his neck tighter and you couldn’t help but slip into your role. You felt wild, frenzied and powerful.

“Oh yes, yes,” A gasp left your lips.

“Chiquita…come on, get it,”His voiced cracked a bit while he encouraged you as he helped lift your hips and pull you back down. He knew you were close because your walls tightened around his girth keeping it in a chokehold just how your hands did to his neck.

Miguel loved it. Hearing your voice fill with joy as you rode him and choked him. While looking up at you, you looked like a goddess using a worthy male to breed with, to use as you pleased. And it turned him on so much.

And in all honesty, he found it pretty cum worthy.

“I-I’m fucking you, I’m fucking you~” You chanted like a breathless prayer.

He made a promise to himself he’d never moan like a woman during sex but at this very moment he moaned, legs stretched out and dare he say his own toes almost curled.

“Si mami, you’re fucking me, you’re fucking me baby,” He hissed and groaned out while trying to adjust himself beneath you just so he didn’t release too soon but for some reason you were just full of surprises and squeezed his neck tighter barely giving him any air now. His red eyes rolled back and his thick calloused hands shot up to your wrists holding them. But never pulled them away.

“No, no, no,” You moaned out feeling your release crawling up your spine,” Aquí tú me quedas. M-me miras,” (T: Here you look at me. Look at me)Pieces of your hair started to fall down your face when you leaned down, your hair fully curtaining both of your faces.

“Watch me cum on your dick! On your prideful cock that only has one use,” You lifted yourself back up working your hips harder when you caught that line of orgasm and tossed your head back.

A whine came from your lips,” And that’s… to make me cum!”

Your eyes practically rolled to the back of your head as a cry of pure bliss left your lips and your body convulsed. Apparently you weren’t the only one who felt that release because you heard Miguel groan loudly and his hips were raised into you. Thick hot ropes of his cum shot up your center like bullets.

“Gh… Agh—! Y/N!”

Rope after rope, after rope you felt it flood your insides.

Your hands lessened around his neck after a minute. Panting you looked down seeing Miguel looking at you with red cheeks and a…a different kind of look on his face. It was unrecognizable.

Neither of you spoke as you both tried to catch your breaths. Slowly, you slid your hands down to his collar bone. What the hell were you doing? Of course you’d have a plan and complete the plan but what about after the plan?

What if he didn’t really like it? What if—

Your eyes widened seeing light little marks along his neck. They looked red and looked a lot like fingers. Instead of saying anything you internally panicked and slowly turned your attention elsewhere while tucking your lips into your mouth.

He’s going to kill you. He’s going to kill you. He’s going to kill you!!!

The both of you were panting catching your breaths and he still held your wrists delicately in his rough fingers. He wasn’t pulling away nor was he scolding you for choking him. Instead he licked his lips before speaking.

“You. Are not going to tell anyone about this,” you looked down into his red narrowed eyes seeing nothing but embarrassment.

He couldn’t even look into your eyes properly so he glanced off to the sides pretty often. He was… shy? Miguel O’Hara was acting shy?!

You felt a poof of steam coming out of your ears (if it were even possible) at how cute he looked.

Smirking you lean down catching his eyes once again.

“You came too fast. So why would I tell anyone about that?” You teased watching his face go from shock to annoyance.

You laughed as he easily lifted you up and off his lap, his cock easily sliding out of you because it got soft. And he tossed to to the side.

You bounced a bit watching him slowly sit up and glare over at you and point,” I did not cum too fast. You did something to…I know you did something!” He swung his legs to the side of the bed and stood up. Miguel was naked and you could see the curves, the angles, and the bulges of his muscles along his broad back.

It always fascinated you how he got to be so big when most of the other Spider-Men were so lean. They weren’t your cup of tea really but Miguel, you were glad you threatened him when you found out about his identity. Because if you didn’t you wouldn’t see him as often as you did.

You lay lounging on your side feeling a warmth stickiness leaving your now satisfied hole.

“I didn’t do anything Miguel. You just liked what we did. There’s nothing wrong with that,” You watched as his blue suit suddenly materialized wrapping around his body now clothing him.

“I thought you should know something,” You sat up a bit trying to fight off the tiredness you were starting to feel. Miguel glanced back at you from over his shoulder waiting for you to speak as he adjusted his dimensional band.

“I’m ovulating,” Finally you lay right back down and buried your head into your pillow immediately finding it so comfortable. “Mmmmm… you might be a dad soon if you don’t get me a plan B.”

He didn’t bother moving. Was he broken? He did know you were joking about him being a dad right? If he didn’t get you one you could always get one yourself it was no big deal.

“Miguel I—“

“I’ll get you one… next time just so we don’t have a second accident.” His mask materialized over his face and he headed towards the balcony in your bedroom.

“Wait wait! Second accident?! What do you mean? I was just joking!” You scrambled out of bed grabbing the sheets and covering your nakedness. He was already out in the open cool night air crouching on the ledge of the balcony.

“Miguel… don’t play with me. What do you mean second accident?”

You were cautious. He knew something you sure as hell didn’t. Second accident? When was there ever a first?! While you clung your the sheet to cover your nakedness from the public eye of the night he already shot a red glowing red towards a building across the street. He didn’t jump yet.

“Well, we’re keeping this one.” He stood straight and jumped. You ran over to the ledge and looked over.

“We are NOT keeping it!” You screamed out at him as he swung away. He managed to face you mid swing.

“I didn’t ask!” He yelled back before disappearing into bright city.

You just looked off into the direction he left in with your heart pumping and your annoyance rising. You KNEW it! You just knew he was acting way too docile tonight for a reason!

Turning around and stomping back inside with a angry huff you crossed your arms over your covered chest.

“That Peter B. Parker!”

————————

Here’s some art a friend from Twitter drew based on the Fic! If you check her Twitter you can see all variations of skin tones! 🫶🏼❤️

Twitter: @sighcard

#wayoflove #x reader #smut #fem reader #miguel ohara xreader #spider man 2099 #across the spider verse spoilers #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #latina reader #into the spider verse #spiderman 2099 #spider man 2099 x reader #spider man across the spider verse #oscar issac #peter b parker #oneshot

[flightlessangelwings]

The Way We Feel When We Dance

Tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader

Word count-3.9k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), reader dances, protective!Peter, harassment, Spiderman picks up reader (he has super strength but still I wanted to add this here), reader is hinted to be more curvy but it open to interpretation, fluff, feelings, Peter and reader are both adults and are at a dance club in the beginning, no use of y/n

Notes- This is a very late part 2 of my 5k follower thank you gift fics (I did one Pedro character and one non Pedro character lol). Thank you all who have been following and supporting me and my works here! While this reader is not physically described at all other than body parts, I pictured and heavily implied that she is Latina here. But it can absolutely still be read by anyone. Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that as well and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on when I post new things!

~

The pulse of the upbeat Latin music reverberated through the room as the lights danced in harmony with the beat. Sweaty bodies filled the dance floor that all moved to the rhythm. Feet stepped in time with the beat as hips swayed from side to side and arms shimmied with purpose. Smiles and laughter filled the air between each dancer as everyone had a fun time dancing the night away.

From the edge of the room, Peter sat at the bar. Even though the crowd, his gaze stayed solely on you. You captivated him with the way you danced to the music, carefree and beautiful. Your outfit accentuated your hips perfectly, and Peter couldn’t look away even if he wanted to.

Feeling his eyes on your figure, you opened your own from when you closed them from getting lost in the music. When your gaze met his, a bright smile lit up your face, which Peter mirrored. He raised his glass up in cheers as he watched you melodically make your way across the dance floor. A tinge of heat rose across Peter’s face as you stared at him with intent as you closed the gap between your bodies.

“Why don’t you join me, Peter?” you asked in a sultry tone as you swayed your body against his.

Peter’s cheeks reddened, “You know I have two left feet, sweetheart,” he giggled, feeling like a schoolboy around you.

You smirked as you leaned in closer to murmur in his ear, “You can swing from building to building hundreds of feet in the air,” you teased, “And you’re afraid to dance in public?”

“It’s not the same,” he retorted playfully as he nudged your side. Peter’s gaze dropped down to where your hips still swayed from side to side in a slow, lazy rhythm, “Besides, I’m enjoying my view right now.”

“Oh come on, Pete,” you pleaded as you slid your hand in his, “Here I’ll start off with an easy one. It’s three steps, I think you can handle it.”

“But…”

“Come on, babe!” Your instance was firm yet light-hearted. You knew if he truly didn’t want to dance, he would stop you, and you wouldn’t force it. Sometimes, your boyfriend just needed a little encouragement. And besides, you really wanted to feel his arms around you and the two of you danced together to the beat of the music, letting the rest of the world fade away…

Peter’s nervous giggle got drowned out by the music as he allowed you to guide him back to the dance floor. With all his strengths as Spiderman, Peter knew that you were his ultimate weakness, and he couldn’t deny you anything even if he wanted to. So, he could put his insecurities aside for the night and dance with you. Besides, holding you close as you lost yourselves in the music wasn’t a terrible thought…

“Put your arms on my waist,” you instructed once you found a spot on the dance floor with some space to move.

“Gladly,” Peter grinned widely as he did so.

You rolled your eyes for a moment, but let out a soft gasp when you felt his tight grip on your body. It made your heart pound more than the dancing did as the warmth and security of his embrace engulfed you, and you lost yourself for a moment. It was only your name in Peter’s voice that brought you back, “Right,” you met his eyes as you placed your hands on his shoulders, “Ok, watch me and do what I do in reverse.”

Peter swallowed hard and nodded as his gaze slowly ran down your body. He took the opportunity to study your outfit and how good it looked on you up close, and he memorized every inch of your figure.

“Like this,” you started slowly, shifting your weight from foot to foot as you stepped to the rhythm in a simple motion, “One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three,” you stepped back and first, side to side as your hips shimmied to the music.

Peter tried his best to keep up, but under your lead, he found he quickly fell into the rhythm. 

“That’s it!” you exclaimed as you started to pick up your pace to better match the beat that played around you.

Laughter erupted from Peter as he felt himself get lost in the music too. The Latin beat that played highlighted your movements as the two of you danced together, wrapped in each other’s arms. A grin of your own lit up your face as your lips parted in a wide smile and you started to add more flair to your movements.

Peter was captivated. He almost forgot to move as he watched you lose yourself in the music. You looked so beautiful like this, and Peter counted himself the luckiest man in the world to get to have you, to get to be with you. A stupid smile lit up his face as he lost the rhythm on the song that played from being too enthralled with you.

Until…

“Ow!” you exclaimed as you suddenly stopped dancing.

“Sorry!” Peter realized what the problem was: he was so focused on you that he accidentally stepped on your foot, “Sorry, sweetheart,” he repeated as he caressed your shoulders, “You alright?”

“I”m fine,” you waved it off with a laugh. Feeling his grip on you, suddenly the music faded away and your world became just Peter. The way he held you and the way he looked at you made your heart flip in your chest, and you found that you didn’t care about your night out of dancing anymore.

Sending the change in your demeanor, and knowing that look on your face, he leaned in close and murmured, “Wanna get out of here?” Peter’s tone was low, rumbling against your ear and sending a chill down your spine. He placed a light, playful kiss on the tip of your nose while he was so close to you.

“Yes,” you breathed, knowing exactly what he meant and wanting that exact same thing.

This time, it was Peter who slid his hand in yours and led you away. You followed willingly and eagerly as you couldn’t help but giggle. No one had ever made you feel the way Peter did, and finding him was the best thing that ever happened to you. 

And Peter felt the exact same way about you.

The cool air made you dizzy for a moment as the door to the outside opened. You let out a sigh as you adjusted to the feeling of the New York night air on your skin, and it became a welcome relief from the heat inside.

“You alright?” Peter asked.

“Great,” you answered, “Let’s go home.”

Peter smiled as he led you away from the club and into the busy night streets. New York truly never slept, and even late into the night, it was full of life and hustle and bustle. It was just as crowded outside as it was inside as you and Peter made your way down the long streets of the city. You felt safe, though, with your hand firmly in Peter’s.

But, you didn’t make it far before a group of men sneered at you as you passed by them. You felt their pointed gazes before Peter noticed them and you shuffled yourself closer to him. As the two of you walked by, they blew kisses at you and yelled obscene nicknames.

“Hey baby!” one of them shouted, “Why don’t you drop that little shrimpy boy and I’ll show you what a real man can do?”

The other man laughed as they all started to follow close behind.

Peter frowned as he pulled you in closer, tightening his grip on you, “I’ve got you,” he whispered to you, “Come on,” he turned down another street, hoping to lose the men in the crowd and avoid the situation escalating.

You let out a whine as you put your trust in him. Easily, you figured out that Peter wanted to use the crowd as a cover, but you stayed glued to his side still. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw that the men weren’t deterred and still tailed close behind you.

“Peter…”

“I know, I…”

He was cut off when a drunk couple bumped into the two of you, knocking you out of Peter’s grasp. You yelped as you found yourself separated from him, and over the noise of the crowd, you heard him call out your name. 

“Peter!” you shouted back, trying to find him.

It was no use, though, and before you could blink, you found yourself alone. Not completely alone, though, as the group of men somehow found you after you got pushed away. “Shit,” you cursed under your breath as you turned and ran in the opposite direction. You could find Peter later, right now your first priority was losing these guys.

You made turn after turn trying to shake them, but it was no use. No matter where you went, the men were close behind, and they were catching up to you. And they continued to taunt you while they did so.

“Come on, sweet girl,” one leered, “We won’t hurt you.”

“Too badly,” another cackled darkly.

“Just give us a chance, pretty girl,” another pleaded in an insincere voice.

You whimpered as you tried to look for Peter in the crowd again, but to no avail, “Peter…” you hissed, “Dammit.” Lost in your panic, you didn’t notice that you turned into a dead end alley until you were face to face with a brick wall. “Shit,” your hands trembled as you turned around and saw that the men followed you, trapping you in the alley.

“It’s ok sweetheart,” one of them said in a voice that sent a chill down your spine, “We’ll take good care of you.”

Looking down at the ground, you saw a loose brick that fell out of the wall. You picked it up and threw it in the men’s direction, “Stay back!” you warned as the men easily ducked out of the way of the flying brick.

The men just laughed as they reached out for you. Having no other options, you closed your eyes and held your breath, anticipating the feeling of their rough hands on your body. But, it never came.

A twip from above whirled through the air, and the ball of webbing hit the hand of the man closest to you. He was knocked back, and his hand was pinned to the wall, stuck with the webbing.

“Didn’t anyone teach you boys that when a woman says “no” that you leave her alone?” a voice rang from above.

You opened your eyes and looked up, breathing a huge sigh of relief, “Spiderman!” you exhaled as he flipped down from his perch and stood in front of you, blocking the men.

“Spiderman!?” the other men clamored, “We weren’t doing nothing, we just…”

“It didn’t look like nothing to me,” he replied as he flicked his wrist, sending more webbing to the other men.

They all clamored as they tried to fight back, throwing punches that missed the webslinger over and over again. Spiderman easily avoided their punches and with just a few more flicks of his wrist, was able to catch all of them in his net. The men grunted and cursed as they found themselves stuck to either the wall or the ground, unable to move.

“Damn, you Spiderman!” one cried out.

“Fucking cockblock!” shouted another angrily.

Spiderman ignored them and turned to you, “You alright?” he asked in a softer tone.

“I am now,” you replied breathlessly as your heart pounded in your chest.

“Want a lift out of here?” he asked, a hint of playfulness in his tone.

Feeling more at ease, a smile grace your face, “I’d love one.”

“I’m gonna pick you up now,” his voice was soothing to you as he extended his arms out.

You nodded. 

Spiderman stepped forward and wrapped his arm around you, lifting you off the ground with his superhuman strength. He paused and turned to the men who pursued you and said, “This is how you ask a lady out,” he sniped, “You should try asking nicely next time.” he added before he flicked his wrist and launched himself and you up and away.

Normally, you were too scared whenever Peter carried you through the city like this. But, after what almost happened, you were too preoccupied to notice more than the cool air in your face and the tight grip around your body. You buried yourself in the crook of his neck as you tightened your own grip on Peter as he flung you between the tall buildings of New York and towards the tiny apartment you both shared.

In no time, Peter made it to your window, opening it from the outside and setting you down carefully and gently. He hurriedly closed it before turning back around to face you, ripping his mask off in one swift motion as he closed the gap between your bodies.

“Are you ok?” he asked in a panic, “Did they hurt you?” Peter’s hand landed on your shoulders as he looked you over for any cuts or marks as he finally allowed himself to feel scared for you.

“I’m ok, Peter,” you replied back, your own voice sounding distant, “You found me just in time.”

Peter’s eyes locked with your for a moment before he dropped to the ground on his knees before you. He started to sob as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in cose, burying his face in your midsection, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he choked out between cries.

Tears of your own filled your eyes as your heart pounded in your chest. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and leaned over, covering him as you both held each other, “Don’t be sorry, Peter,” you whispered, “You saved me. I know you’ll always save me.”

He couldn’t help but cry harder at your words as he tightened his grip on you, “When we got separated,” he started, pausing to catch his breath, “I was so scared,” Peter confessed, “I was so scared something would happen to you… And I wouldn’t find you in time…”

“Hey,” you wiggled your way down to join him on the floor, “Look at me, Peter,” you cupped his face, and more tears fell down your cheeks as you looked into his red eyes, “You will always save me, Peter Parker. I know you will. I trust you with everything I am.”

Truthfully, you were just as scared as Peter was. The moment you were separated, you lost your security, your safe place. And while you had faith in him- you always did- that fear was still there. But right now, you had to be there for him, since he was already there for you. 

Another tear rolled down Peter’s cheek, and you used your thumb to wipe it away. He whispered your name as he closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of your touch under his skin. It was a comfort, and anchor, and Peter knew he had to trust you just as much as you trusted him. He saved you tonight. And he would always save you. That was his promise to you. 

“Peter…” you breathed his name as you closed the gap between your faces, pressing your lips to his.

It felt like an explosion of fireworks between your bodies as you connected as one. Passions quickly arose as Peter clung to you and deepened the kiss, tasting you. You moaned into his mouth as you kissed him back just as passionately and tightened your grip on him.

Heat rose in the room as suddenly you both had one thing on your minds. The need to feel each other, to get tangled together and lost in the other, was overwhelming. With only breaking away for quick moments to undress each other, you and Peter clumsily made your way to the bed, stripping each other and kissing wherever you could reach along the way.

By the time your legs hit the edge of the bed, you and Peter were both bare for each other. He grabbed onto you in an attempt to land you underneath him as he leaned your bodies towards the mattress. But, you surprised him. You grabbed onto his torso and turned your bodies around so that by the time you hit the bed, you straddled overtop of Peter.

“Wow,” he murmured as his eyes trailed across your naked body on top of him. Peter’s hands caressed up and down your sides, feeling every dip and curve of your body, memorizing every inch of you with his hands.

“Wow yourself,” you snickered back as you bit your lip and enjoyed the sight of Peter, your Peter, in between your legs.

Leaning forward, you placed your hands on his pecs, giving them a soft squeeze as you rocked your hips along his. Both of you hissed and mewled as your folds ran along his hardening cock. Jolts of electricity ran up your spine with every movement, and you felt the way his cock twitched in anticipation underneath your hips.

Peter let out a curse as his hands dug into your hips. And he only groaned louder when you lifted yourself up to line up your entrance with his cock. Normally, Peter liked to take his time with you, kissing you all over and worshiping your body before he entered you. But today was different. Today, you were both too needy, too desperate to feel each other that neither of you could wait any longer. 

You let out a gasp as the tip of his length pushed past your first ring of muscle and started to stretch you out. Slowly, you lowered yourself along his length, letting Peter fill you up inch by inch as your hips moved closer to his. Peter’s own groans harmonized with your moans as he felt your warmth engulf him. 

“Fuck…” Peter whispered in awe when your hips met his and he felt your muscles clench around him. He moaned your name as he tightened his grip on your body and fought to keep his eyes open; Peter didn’t want to miss a second of how beautiful you looked.

A loud moan escaped your lips as you rolled your hips forward, feeling Peter’s cock inside you. You squeezed his pecs harder as you started to bounce up and down. Feeling bubbled over as you rode Peter’s cock so that they were almost physically palpable between the two of you.

Moving faster, you heard your skin slap against Peter’s as you felt every inch of him inside you. Heat rose in the room as you both clung to the other. Emotions drove you as your tights screamed at you the longer you lifted and lowered yourself onto him. But, Peter helped you. He used his strength to guide your hips along his cock, along his body. He never lessened his grip on you as he slid his hands to the soft mounds of your ass to help you and feel you more.

Peter lost the battle with his eyes, and they finally closed to allow himself to get lost in you. A louder groan echoed from deep with him as he felt your warmth and your tightness envelope him over and over again. And Peter knew he wouldn’t last much longer if you kept riding him like this.

In a flash, Peter’s eyes snapped open and he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around you. Before you could register his movements, you suddenly found yourself on your back as Peter flipped your bodies over so that he covered you.

“Peter…”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he grunted as he leaned forward, driving his cock even deeper into you as his forehead touched yours.

All you could do was moan as a shiver ran up your spine. Peter’s cock hit that sweet spot inside you with precision, and you felt like your body was floating as he started drilling into you at a fast and desperate pace. “Fuck!” you cried out as your body began to tremble.

Peter snaked his hand up the sheet and took yours as he continued to rock into you over and over again. You took his hand, holding it tightly as you felt his breath against the skin on your face. Fresh tears rolled down your cheeks from the overwhelming emotions, and you could feel ones from Peter as well.

Peter groaned your name over and over again with every thrust of his hips as he held your hand as tightly as he possibly could.

“Peter… I’m gonna cum…” you gasped.

“Me too, sweetheart,” he words were strained from how breathless he was, “Cum with me, sweetheart. Let me feel you.”

“Pete!” you cried out as more tears fell down your cheeks as your entire body tingled. As you were about to let out a loud cry with your climax, Peter’s lips suddenly covered yours, muffling your screams.

His own groans and grunts were muffled as well as he felt his own peak hit at the same time as yours. Peter’s eyes shut tightly as he kissed you deeply while he spilled himself into you. He could feel every muscle in your body clench around him as you came hard on his cock, and your moans reverberated within him as he kept his lips on yours.

Peter kept up his pace as long as he could, riding out every ounce of both your climaxes until he couldn’t hold himself up any longer. With one final thrust of his hips, Peter finally broke the kiss as he pulled out of you and collapsed down next to you with a loud huff. You exhaled deeply as you caught your breath, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. Together, the two of you laid sprawled out next to each other on the bed, letting yourself recover from that whirlwind of passions.

Neither of you were sure who moved first, but you both instinctively reached out for each other, wrapping yourself up in a pretzel of limbs as you held each other close. You kissed his skin wherever you could, and Peter did the same to you, peppering feather light kisses on your body. As your heartbeats both came down to normal, a comfort washed over both of you. Feeling each other cose like this, knowing you were both here, made you know that everything was ok. You were ok. He was ok.

“I’m gonna do everything I can to protect you, sweetheart,” Peter broke the silence, “No matter what. Your safety always comes first,” he said as he squeezed you tightly.

“I know you will, Peter,” you whispered back as you kissed his skin, “I trust you. I know I’m safe with you.”

“You always will be,” he sounded more distant, as if sleep started to take him over. 

“I love you, Peter Parker.”

He smiled, “I love you too, sweetheart.” 

You were quiet for a few moments before you grinned against his chest, “Next time we go out dancing, let’s leave the action for the dance floor instead of the streets.”

Peter joined your laughter as he placed a soft kiss on the top of your head, “I was thinking the same thing.” 

#x reader #reader insert #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x you #tasm peter parker #tasm peter x reader #tasm peter x you #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker x you #tasm!peter x you #andrew garfield peter parker #andrew garfield peter parker x reader #tasm andrew garfield #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter imagine #tasm peter imagines #tasm peter fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #peter parker imagine #tasm peter parker fic #tasm peter parker imagine #the amazing spider man #tasm #tasm fanfiction #tasm fic

[liz-allyn]

love on the brain: sugar & vice, vol 2 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!OC]

summary: You didn’t think it was going to be easy, did you? AKA The night Peter and Honey reunited—Four. Months. Later. [mob!peter parker x oc!MJ] 

words: 11.8k (omfg)

NSFW/MINORS DNI - ABANDON ALL CHASTITY, YE WHO ENTER HERE (detailed warnings below)

extended warnings (spoilers): p^rn with plot, detailed smut, really just... filthy and deranged. slightly dubcon parts (although consent is clearly confirmed), no Y/N...ever, arguing, anger, jealousy, physical violence (slapping, scratching, throwing objects), almost hate sex, fem!reader with a vagina and breasts and wears a dress, oral (f! receiving), P in V, rough!dom Peter, sub!reader, possessive!peter, mirrors, titty!worship, shame and slight degradation, use of emojis, f! being restrained, discussion of masturbation, slight breeding kink, non-consensual voyeurism, moderate BDSM kink, “punishment” play (spanking, edging) bratty reader, peter parker being a dunce around women, mob!au, furniture harmed in the making of this

names used: daddy, princess, baby, babygirl

A/N: This is a one-shot standalone story that takes place immediately after the Epilogue of Vol 1. And serves as the official beginning of Vol. 2. If you haven’t read Vol.1, you really should. The main OC is AFAB and goes by the name “Honey.” You’ll need to read Vol. 1 to know why.  I try to be loose with my descriptions for people who prefer a Reader-Insert. But I’m not perfect. In this canon, Honey has a Latina heritage (as do I). Take that as you will. Thanks to @moonyslove78 and @blooming-violets for cheering me on through this very long hiatus. 

This is 18+ AF. And if you think the term ‘AF’ shows how old and out of touch you are, then you’re probably not old enough to read this.

This version of TASM Peter Parker is not canon. The relationships here are not healthy and the characters need therapy. Don’t date a mob boss IRL.

#1 - Love on the Brain

>>> heya boss. how’s your trip? 😜

Peter arched a brow as he peeked down at the text message.

>>> ⋯ >>> your trip to pound town? 🍆🍑 

He rolled his eyes, swallowing back an irritated snort.

Real mature, Felicia. 

He almost tapped out a haughty reply but stopped. Corners of his mouth turned down, he found himself unable to respond.

“So many choices. I just don’t know what I want.”

An understatement.

The girl of his dreams sat across from him in the quaint East Harlem Cuban restaurant. They were crammed together at a bistro table near the kitchen. The enormous menu took up the entire surface, and she had spent the last 25 minutes reading the items aloud. 

It was nearly 11 p.m., and they had yet to pick an appetizer. 

The woman he’d called ‘his Honey’ sweetly sighed with a shrug. “Now that we’re here, I just can’t make up my mind.” 

Her voice had a singsong tune to it, purposefully careless. Blissfully ignorant of the fact that Peter was starving.

“Maybe I’m just not feeling Cuban food tonight,” she shrugged, nonchalant.

Peter swallowed hard. Tried to rid his expression of any hint of impatience or irritation. 

“Oh,” he remarked delicately, thinking of all the different dinner reservations he’d made for tonight. It didn’t matter what magazine talked it up, didn’t matter how many “tire awards” it had won. 

Honey was unimpressed. 

“M’surprised,” he said, as emotionlessly as possible. “Thought you had your heart set on this place.”

The place was one of those hole-in-the-wall joints that had less than 10 tables, which made takeout the most popular choice. 

On this night however—a Tuesday— the restaurant was nearly empty, except for the overdressed couple and the loathsome kitchen staff, who didn’t expect to be subject to “este cabrón” and his picky girlfriend strolling in 30 minutes before closing. 

While Peter could feel the heat of their ire over the oven, Honey avoided it. She explained to the manager that Peter was “un ricacho que tiene demasiado dinero.” And with that, they were seated.

When Peter approached her earlier that afternoon in the park, he’d expected a much worse welcome. He nearly died of a panic attack when he spotted her on the park bench. It had been four long months since he’d attempted to communicate with her, and he half-expected her to throw her iced coffee in his face. 

Actually, he had no idea what to expect from her. Terrifyingly.

Peter had lamented to Felicia— “There’s no card that says, ‘Sorry, I ghosted you for a few months while attempting to shake the heat off my back.’ Which flowers say, ‘I apologize that the last conversation we had, I called you a whore in front of a room full of cops’?”

The true challenge came when Peter actually looked into her eyes. He didn’t expect that one look would render him useless. 

She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Ethereal. Glowing. The human equivalent of a bouquet of sunflowers, with happy round cheeks and her hair tied back in a ponytail. She was the color of rainbows, and summer, and sunshine. She was the cherries of her red lip stain and the golden rays of her yellow linen sundress.

God, that dress. 

Peter planned for everything—but not that dress. 

His carefully rehearsed speech went out the window when he saw her in that dress: a cotton ruched-waist, tea-length gown in a yellow gingham pattern. It featured a sweetheart neckline that cradled her breasts perfectly between the halter tie-back straps. 

He had no idea where that dress came from, but it was the most perfect piece of fabric ever to grace a woman’s body. He would buy her twelve more of them, no matter the cost. He’d buy every last one.

He’d give her the sun, the ocean, Hawai’i, and all the stars in the sky— if only she’d forgive him. He was ready to throw himself on a bed of hot coals as long as it meant that she would take him back. If she would come back home.

Truthfully, he needed her to come home.

Not to get ahead of himself, he started by taking her to dinner. 

That was Felicia’s advice—women love dinner. solves everything. the fancier, the better, with lots of red meat—u know how they say food is the way to a man’s heart? dinner is the way to the ovaries. works every time.

Actually, Felicia gave Peter lots of advice. For once, he was more than grateful to accept it. 

>>> make her feel like you can’t take your eyes off her. but don’t stare. like a creeper  >>> be a gentleman, but not a pushover. you wanna be the good guy. soft YA novel boyfriend type

Followed quickly by—

>>> but not too soft! don’t be a little bitch. if she plays hard to get, you play offense.  >>> and defense.

Peter had no idea what she was talking about. But he knew when it was wise to trust the advice of more intelligent creatures than men.

Five restaurants later...

“I thought going to dinner was your idea?” Honey asked with pursed lips.

“It was; it was my idea,” he nervously replied. “Six hours ago—it was my idea.”

She narrowed her eyes to slits. “Hmm. Six hours. Long time to wait.” Her eyes fell down to the menu again. Her lack-of-sympathy said everything.

Peter’s pocket buzzed again, and he glanced down at the incoming text message from Felicia.

>>> ...???? 

He rolled his eyes. Tapped out a response.

<<< Not great.

“Am I interrupting something?” Honey asked with a clipped tone.

Peter jumped, pocketing his phone immediately. “No, just... just something... silly,” he muttered. “How ‘bout we get a few plates in, yeah? I’m gonna just order some stuff—”

“Like what?” she questioned skeptically.

“I don’t know,” Peter shrugged, his stomach twisting. “One of everything.”

“That’s wasteful,” Honey said, judgment sharpening her gaze. “Food waste is bad enough as it is in this city.”

“Well, at this point,” he snapped with an exasperated sigh, “I might be able to eat two of everything.” The words floated away from him, and he bit the inside of his cheek, wishing they would come back. Hesitantly, he made eye contact with Honey.

She peered at him disgustedly from over the top of her menu. She scoffed, crossing one leg over the other, and dropped the leather-bound book closed. 

“Don’t let me slow you down,” Honey said icily. “I’m not that hungry anyway.”

Peter’s eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. His pocket buzzed again. 

>>> the fuck? what do you mean?  >>> she was in love with you b4... how hard can it be to take her on a date?  >>> christ. did you fuck this up, parker?

He shoved the phone back in his jacket, nearly punching through the silk fabric. 

“If I’m wasting your time, tell me,” Honey sharply retorted. She crossed her arms even tighter across her chest. He had to force himself to look away from the way it plumped her breasts together. “I’d hate to keep you from something important.”

Felicia was right. He was fucking this up. Before he could open his mouth—

“Excuse me, señorita,” a masculine, smoky voice crooned at them. 

Peter and Honey glanced up to see a chiseled man in his 30s approach the table with a hurricane glass of ice. He was a specimen of Latin American art—a bronzed statue, with carved muscles that bulged out of his floral shirt. Deep brown eyes—no, hazel eyes— fixed on Honey as he reached across the table with rolled-back sleeves. The corded muscles in his arm, toned by long hours of hard labor, flexed gracefully as he gently set a cocktail in front of her. 

A frosted, colorless liquid speckled with crushed mint leaves filled the glass. Honey blinked with delighted surprise.

“Our compliments,” the young, disgustingly attractive waiter explained with a sultry smile and a thick accent. “In case you found yourself thirsty while browsing the menu.” 

A blush colored her skin as she glanced up at their handsome waiter. The sparkle in her smile was as blinding as ever, and she graciously looked back between the glass and the server.  The waiter— no way in hell this fuckin’ guy is a waiter— beamed back at her, enamored. 

“Oh, wow!” she gasped, reaching for the glass with dainty fingers. “Is this a mojito? That’s my favorite! How did you know?”

The waiter graciously chuckled. “Lucky guess. You look like a woman of refined taste.”

Peter felt his blood pressure rising.

Honey didn’t even look at her date, as if he was suddenly invisible. “Thank you,” she grinned, self-satisfied. “I mean, I do know my way around a Bacardi bottle.” The waiter chuckled, maybe too hard, at her silly joke.

“We want you to enjoy your evening with us,” the waiter added politely, sparing Peter a glance but keeping all his attention on Honey. “We are honored to have you as our guest.” 

The waiter spoke gentlemanly as he splayed his long fingers across his chest. “Please, take as much time as you need. No need to feel rushed. It is my pleasure to serve you.” 

Peter could feel a twitch behind his eye. Could have been the fire shooting out of his eyes. Fuck this prick, probably another Broadway reject or somethin’, couldn’t buy himself a decent shirt—His mind churned along with his anger.

Oblivious, Honey beamed up at him with a golden smile. “Thank you so much for saying that,” she replied, endearingly sweet. “You are too kind, um... I’m sorry, what was your name again?” 

“Pedro.”

Honey’s brows shot to her hairline. “Pedro?” she repeated, absolutely delighted. She glanced over at Peter. “Isn’t that something?”

The mob boss’ lip curled mirthlessly. “Oh, it’s somethin,’ alright.” 

Peter continued to burn his stare—fuck his stupid accent— into the side of the aloof waiter’s head. He wondered if Pedro’s handsome, chiseled jawline was sharp enough to cut through a noose.

Buzz..

>>> you’re keepin’ your cool, right?  >>> remember what i said.  >>> anything she wants. no questions asked! >>> don’t get all crazy possessive either

The joyful sound of her laughter ripped his attention away from his phone and back towards his charmed date. 

“Pedro,” she sweetly preened. “Can you give us a recommendation?” She briefly flashed her eyes at Peter before looking back at her new friend. “My date’s clearly distracted. He has no idea what I like.” 

Oh? Peter raised a brow at that. And lost his appetite.

Peter followed Honey down the hallway to his hotel suite while storm clouds swirled in his gut. Lighting crackled with each footfall. Tension clogged the atmosphere, and they shuffled in a silent fog to the door.

Despite Felicia’s advice about controlling his inner beasts, Peter’s hackles were raised, and his stomach growled. Now, he was hungry for more than just food. And simultaneously, he’d never felt so powerless. 

Peter noted how tightly she wrapped her arms around herself. Her face suggested she was deep in thought. He wondered if she was just as tightly wound as he was. Wondered if she could break his heart with just a look.

He was flailing. Pathetic.

Peter’s fist clenched his keycard tight. He had to be careful not to snap the card in half between his fingers. Was it from excitement or terror? Desire or rage? 

He had to focus, to make this work. He had nothing if he didn’t have her. 

Rigidly, Peter pushed the door open and stood to the side of the frame to let her enter. 

She paused briefly, lips tight, as she gazed into the rotunda entryway of the lavish suite. They hadn’t spoken in the car, and he hadn’t had the chance to explain the location. 

Letting out a steady breath, she strode through the threshold and stopped. Her body blocked the doorway. She turned to look up at Peter, defiant eyes flashing.

“This is as far as you go.” 

Peter blinked, looking at her in confusion.

Her tone was curt. Icy. He recognized that sound. It was the tone of voice she used when she wanted to draw blood, and it never failed to inflict pain. Her voice. Her eyes. Even her tongue was razor-sharp.

Peter curled a brow upwards. “Sorry?” 

Honey narrowed her eyes. “Not yet, you’re not.” 

He took a step back, blinking owlishly. 

“What did you think was going to happen tonight, Peter?” The ire of Honey’s question sliced through him. “Did you think you were gonna shave your face, take me to a fancy dinner, and then I’d just... open my legs for you?”

A literal ellipsis formed in his mind. 

Peter swallowed hard. “Uhhh—?”

“‘I’ll wait for forever, Honey,’ she parroted his earlier admission mockingly. “Is that all you have to say to me? You left me! For four months!”

Peter nodded his head, not sure exactly why or when he began. “I know, I know...”

“You know!?”

The walls of etiquette and politeness between them began to crack.

“How many times I gotta tell ya? I was tryin’ to protect ya, Honey—”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

It stung like a snake bite. Rage filled her eyes, disdain bubbling out of her mouth. She had only just begun. 

“You buy me all this expensive bullshit!” she scolded. “And you dress up in your ridiculous designer suits and parade me to all these fucking pretentious places! Like I’m some kind of accessory! Like you own the whole fucking city and everyone in it!”

He replied with a string of noises. Or, at least, he thought so.

“Big bad mob boss—all that power—and yet, you couldn’t just talk to me? You had me wait around for you like a stray dog! You can just come and go as you please, but you—you expect me to follow you around on a leash?”

“Honey, please. Let me explain—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Peter!” her voice echoed through the rotunda and down the hall of the hotel. “I don’t want to hear a single one of your lame excuses! I don’t want a fancy dinner, or a new Porsche, or a mansion, or whatever else makes your dick hard!”

Peter blinked rapidly, stunned. His body responded as if she had just kicked him in the place she referenced, “Jus’lemme—”

“And I sure as hell don’t want another apology!” she asserted definitively. “I don’t want you anywhere near me!” 

Peter’s jaw hung open, tongue dead in his mouth. The woman who barely stood at his collarbone stared down at him, making him feel inches tall. 

“Now, I’m going to bed. Exactly as I have been for the last four months.” Her voice thundered, “Alone!”

With that, the door slammed in his face, rattling inches from his nose. The echo reverberated through the empty hallway and inside his chest, emphasizing the deep crack that formed.

Peter let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. The shock subsided slowly, and his heart sank. The ache soon sizzled into a burn, boiling his blood. At the same time, the sting of her rejection was raw. Unbearable.

Unbelievable.

Absolutely unacceptable. 

He should break down the fucking door. Throw her over his shoulder and tie her up. Gag her—Anything to get her to listen.

Haplessly, Peter’s eyes fell on his expensive shoes—his Valentinos. Or maybe these were the Tom Ford’s? He had no clue. Just more bullshit.

Fuck—He was going to cry. Maybe he should let himself just do it. Lean into it. Drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness. Shoulders slumped, he squeezed his eyes closed. 

He was a little bitch.

Peter pictured a door closing on a rocket or an airplane. Whatever it was, it was leaving him behind. He was falling back to Earth, having placed too much faith in miracles. This was his punishment for flying that close to the sun—

The door swung open. 

Two hands grabbed Peter’s jacket, pulling him forward off his heels. It was a surprisingly fluid motion; his heartbreak had reduced the mass of his bones to nothing. 

Honey’s nails practically pierced his lapels. She yanked him through the doorway into the suite, slamming the door behind him, and slamming him into the door right after.

Before Peter could open his mouth to speak, she was on him like a viper.

A sharp, biting kiss swallowed him whole, stealing the oxygen from his lungs. The heat was as intense as he had remembered. This time, they didn’t melt into one another. Honey was like a wildfire, her touch scalding him. 

His skin flushed from the sudden unbearable heat. Before he could react, her lithe fingers started tugging the edges of his jacket. Clumsily, she tried pushing it back over his broad shoulders. As soon as he knew of her intent, he eagerly obliged, shrugging the garment off and to the floor. 

Her hands went to his throat, ebony-painted nails leaving trails on his skin. Buttons popped as she yanked on his clothes. Her goal could have been to draw blood with her kiss.

Every time her teeth tore at his lips, he responded with a groan into her mouth.

Clumsy, he fumbled with his fingers—reaching up to grip her by the hair. Finally, he wrenched her head back, detaching her bite from his face.

Immediately, he was met with an open-palmed slap on the cheek.

Sharp gasps cut through them, and they jumped backward a few feet. Tension and shock reverberated in the chasm they created. Like the barometric pressure plunging before a storm, an eerie calm settled over them. 

Honey blinked at him, jaw agape and her palm throbbing. 

Peter glared at her in silence. He looked a mess—hair unkempt, the top buttons of his shirt torn open to reveal jagged crimson scratch marks across his milky skin.

His heartbeat steadily increased as he gently dabbed his fingertips at the ache in his jaw. The exquisite lines of his face were stained pastel pink, flushed by arousal or anger. His eyes were black as night, so it could have been either one.

She looked just as wrecked. Dress askew, her hairstyle half-unraveled. Goosebumps dotted her skin. She looked shocked at the violence she was capable of, surprised and possibly guilty at her own strength. As the seconds passed, the feelings faded.

Peter watched her, pupils dilating, blood pressure rising. The shadow of a smile curved his mouth. His features darkened into something primal. Something familiar.

There’s my girl.

Slowly, he lowered his hand, studying her threatening look until his own expression began to match.

Physically, his senses were haywire. Danger, excitement, and a sick sort of pleasure rattled his bones and labored his breathing. The hairs on his skin stood on end. Alarms blared in his head. The sound of his own blood was almost deafening to him, thumping like a kick drum. 

Peter could hear her heart, too. Fast. Like a rabbit. He was a wolf in pursuit. 

Maybe the pain of her slap triggered him, a preemptive action against further attack.

She got one in, Peter mused mockingly. He knew she was no match. Not as Peter’s night vision sharpened. Not while he could taste the salt from her perspiration on his tongue. Most intoxicating of all, Peter could smell her desire. Like a rose bursting open.

In another blink, they switched positions. Peter snatched her by her shoulders and slammed her back into the wall, pinning her there. She went feral—hissing and raging at her entrapment.

Not a rabbit. A honey badger, then.

“Get off of me!” Honey spat.

“Shut up,” he ordered. Quiet and fierce.

Fingers gripping her forearms tight, he attacked her lips, teeth colliding. The ferocity stunned her. For a moment, it seemed like she finally submitted to him before she wriggled her mouth free.

“Mmffucker—Let me go!”

His body might as well have been a brick wall. His face was stonelike, eyes just as cold. 

“No.” 

Honey’s brow scrunched up like a petulant child throwing a tantrum. “I’ll scream!” she countered.

Peter smirked, the hickory in his eyes igniting. “Baby. You have no idea.”

Peter’s guarantee sent a shiver down Honey’s spine. He saw the gears turning in her mind as she carefully considered pushing him further. 

He hoped she would. 

His fingers tightened around her forearms. He crucified her under his gaze. And yet, despite the danger anyone else would have felt... A glimmer of curiosity flickered in her eyes.

It set his mind reeling. A tiny sign of weakness to temptation made Peter’s stomach trapeze. He zeroed in on it, licking his chops. 

Not to make it easy, Honey brought her knee up, attempting to make contact with his groin. There was nearly a foot of difference between their heights, and she paid it no mind.

Brave girl. 

Peter admired her tenacity. She had balls. Smart, too, he pleasantly recognized. Honey went for the weak spot first. Good call. 

Pointless, though. 

Nothing below Peter’s belt was weak when she was around.

Unfairly, Peter picked up on her attack before her leg was even bent. He snatched her above the knee, lifting her toes off the ground and prying her thighs open. 

He pictured the bruises on her skin that his fingertips would leave behind. Just the thought made him rock hard. 

A year ago, Peter would have been ashamed. He would have shied away from her, for fear of repulsing her, and took out his frustration by himself in the shower. 

Grinding his teeth at those memories, he pressed Honey’s hips into his waist, forcing her legs around him, and—Fuck—her heat.

Peter’s brain nearly short-circuited. She was like a bonfire against his belly. His cock pushed against his trousers, straining for her warmth. He secured her hips to his with a tight grip, which only pissed her off more. She thrashed, enraged. 

She really needed to stop doing that. It only made the burn worse. 

A few months ago, Peter would have been ashamed of the rush he felt from manhandling her. Ashamed of how his cock ached and twitched at her fruitless tantrums.

“Fucking asshole!” Honey sneered.

“Yeah?” he said with a bitter laugh. “You're a spoiled little brat!”

“Fuck you!”

“See what I mean?” Peter scoffed, holding her tighter. He breathed hotly into the shell of her ear. “Not even a ‘please.’” 

His pride was short-lived. Inexplicably, Honey arched her neck and buried her teeth into his shoulder. He roared—“Fuck! What the fuck!!??” —surprised she didn’t bite through the silk of his collared shirt.

Apparently, he wasn’t the only beast in the room.

They tumbled down ungracefully. Peter landed hard on his back, with Honey crashing on top of him. She collapsed on his lungs, knocking the wind from his chest. Sputtering, he reached out to grab her, his fingertips barely missing the hem of her dress. The small woman scrambled to her hands and knees, then to her feet. 

Honey dashed into the suite while Peter’s voice echoed—“Goddamnitareyacrazy!?”—after her. 

Padding on her toes, she ran into a darkened living room with vaulted ceilings that might have been large enough to fit her entire apartment. Outside glass walls, the Midtown skyline surrounded her. The Metlife and Empire State Buildings glittered proudly in a breathtaking view.

The room was situated in the corner of the building. Velvet curtains framed the floor-to-ceiling windows, providing an unobstructed view of the city. The Dark Academia-Meets-Glam aesthetic seating area featured a sleek, modern leather sectional and mod velvet chaise lounge chat set. 

Without time to admire any of it, she scrambled to the first piece of furniture she could reach. She grabbed the first thing her fingers could find—a designer fruit bowl centerpiece made of polished stainless steel and brass pomegranates. 

It was exquisite and expensive. 

Honey spun on her heel and flung the heavy metal at Peter.

He dipped deftly, his spine bowing back, narrowly missing the bowl as it whipped past him. The object barreled through a crystal chandelier, glass shattering like raindrops as they came down.

“Hey—!” he scowled, facing her with an indignant glare.

A moment later, he quickly shielded his face from another flying object: an asymmetrical crystal-and-Riverstone candelabra that crumbled against his forearm. It might as well have been a brick, with ceramic shards tumbling off of his shoulder. 

Peter bristled in aggravation, brushing the pieces off. Now, she was really pissing him off.

He glanced up just in time to see a glass vase containing two dozen roses—meant to be her gift—hurtling towards his head. Reflexively, he snatched it from the air with one hand, water and all. He palmed the crystal vase like catching a baseball. Didn’t spill a drop. 

His quick reflexes stunned the both of them. Peter’s jaw went slack—partially at his ability to save the flowers, but mostly with indignation that Honey had somehow destroyed $1,000 worth of the hotel’s tchotchkes in a few seconds. 

“Enough!” Peter barked, carefully setting the vase down. Ignoring him, the woman darted toward another side table, already reaching for another expensive object to throw at him. 

Suddenly, Honey’s ankle was caught in a sticky grip. Both legs pulled out from beneath her. She flattened immediately with an ooof—her belly dropping to the wool carpet. 

Dazed, she glanced back at her legs with a crease in her brow. With a jolt, she was pulled along by a stringy, spongy substance on her ankle. It felt the way canned compressed air feels when shooting skin at close range. 

Her nails dug into the carpet fibers as she was dragged back. “Agghhh! What the—Getitoff!” 

As soon as the pulling stopped, Honey was on her back again, gazing up at the sharp lines of Peter’s cold gaze. He towered over her, even on his knees, as he mounted her hips. Protesting, she pelted him tirelessly with her fists.

The smell of sweat loomed in the air as he finally restrained her. He caged her in, pinning her wrists to the floor. Nerves buzzing and tempers flaring, she continued to writhe and wrestle with him to no avail. Peter quickly overpowered the more petite woman, fomenting her anger. 

“You’re hurting me!” she sneered breathlessly, teeth gritted. 

Peter was unimpressed. “Liar.”

“M’not lying—!”

He glared back, barely breaking a sweat. “You’re so full of shit—!”

“Fuck you! What do you know—?”

“I know you, Honey!” he charged, silencing her. 

She went still, subdued beneath his dark gaze. Peter loomed over her like a stormcloud. “I know the games you like to play,” he said—both teasing and sinister, toying with his prey. He lowered his lips until they breathed the same air. 

Honey’s focus was split between Peter’s intense stare and glistening, kiss-ravaged mouth. She tried not to notice the sensation of her nipples brushing against the fabric with each labored breath. He could easily reach down and touch her. Tried not to focus on how solid his chest felt against hers, like carved marble. Tried not to focus on the dark chocolate of his eyes melting in the heat of their gaze. 

Just as intensely, Peter watched her watch him—zeroing in on the idle way her tongue darted to wet her lips. The tiny action shot electricity down his spine, straight to his groin. 

Honey felt that, too. A tiny gasp escaped her, her lashes fluttering. The fight suddenly left her arms as she noticed the heavy bulge against her hip. 

He was hot. Not just figuratively. Feverishly hot. He was so hard, too—and just for her. The lewd image of him splitting her open on his cock made her insides clench. 

Peter eyed her dangerously, his voice a dark abyss. “Think you can hide it from me, eh?” The teasing smile on his lips bordered on a snarl. “Gonna sit here an’tell me... that if I were to reach down between your legs right now...” Her heart hammered in her chest, hanging on every word. In her mind, she was begging him to follow through with the threat. “...Those panties won’t be soaked?” 

Honey failed to swallow back a little mewl as he leaned down closer.

“Ya think I can’t feel ya, huh?” he mumbled, lips ghosting the curve of her throat. “Think I can’t smell how wet you are right now?” Another wanton exhale left her belly as she leaned into the heat of his breath on her skin. “Y’know I can already taste you on my tongue, babygirl.”

Honey’s mouth and legs seemed to part further at his vulgar words. She shivered at the sensation of his slick tongue traversing her pulse point.

“You’re... an asshole...” she murmured breathlessly. She sounded half-asleep.

Peter hissed, “And you’re a needy little slut, aren't’cha?” 

The sudden ferocity made her eyes unintentionally roll back. A second later, Peter’s fingers collared her, choking off the small mewl in her throat. He turned her by the chin, wrenching her attention to him. 

“Hey—Eyes on me,” he commanded.

Mesmerized, Honey blinked up at him like a fawn.

“How ‘bout that little stunt you pulled with the waiter?” he prodded. There was an icy edge on the last word. Her throat bobbed while she kept her face neutral. The bright amber of his glare penetrated her. Peter continued accusatorily, “Those flirty little giggles while he gave ya fuck-me eyes? Y’think I didn’t see that?”

Honey sniffed, stiffening her upper lip. This was a power move; she knew better than to back down. “Look who's jealous,” she scoffed. 

With a jolt, she again attempted to wrench her wrists free. He simply held on tighter, closing his talons as she twisted like a snake.

“Jealous?” Peter repeated calmly, narrowing his eyes into slits. “Me? Nah.” His hands suddenly seized her hips as he forcibly jerked her up off the floor. A slew of profanities spilled from her mouth, bucking against him as he carried her.

In a few strides, he was at the edge of a dining table. With little regard for his barbarity, he plopped Honey on the surface, shoving her flat on her back. Peter arched over her as if to dominate her, spine bowing until he filled her periphery with his fierce gaze. 

Honey’s eyes sparkled, cheeks colored from the rush. “Threatened, then!”

Peter’s face softened inexplicably. Blinked at her for a moment, head tilting. Then, he landed an open-palmed smack against her ass. 

It was a surprisingly heavy blow, as close as he’d ever come to intentionally inflicting pain on her. Honey yelped, hissing from the sting on her upper thigh. Right after the strike, Peter’s fingers began kneading her flesh, soothing the welt that was bound to form.

“See, if I were a jealous man,” he noted with an evil sneer, “I woulda gouged his eyes out with a salad fork.” 

Peter swallowed up her gasp with a forceful kiss. A few moments later, he broke away.

“If I felt threatened?” he added breathlessly, “I woulda bent you over the table and fucked you dumb. Let everyone in the Five Boroughs hear you beg for my cock.”

Once the filth rolled off his tongue, Peter went back to using it to lash against hers. Honey was overwhelmed by the soft, wet muscle invading her mouth. Not only that, the violent edge to his words felt like standing in a river and grabbing a livewire. A shiver racked through her body, a current of pent-up anger and desire sending blood rushing to her core.

As if on cue, Peter’s fingertips made contact with the lace fabric between her thighs. She tremored at his touch, heart skipping. He toyed with the soft, stretchy material. Snapped it lazily against her flesh.

His voice was hypnotizing. “I woulda shoved these dirty panties down his throat just to never hear his stupid fuckin’ accent again.”

Honey felt drunk off of the vitriol he poured into her ear. It was violent and possessive... and it shouldn’t have made her so horny, and yet—

Honey trembled with anticipation, panting like a bitch in heat. “I-I... can’t... ugh, fu—” 

The pads of his fingers ran firmly along her seam. She let out an embarrassing whine. Peter's prediction was spot-on. A shameful amount of wetness coated the inside of her thighs. He played with the soaked fabric and smeared her mess across her skin with a smug smirk.  

“Think I don’t know what you like?” he muttered darkly, echoing her earlier jab. 

RIP!

The lace bunched at her waist. Honey’s wet skin felt particularly chilled being exposed to the air. She quivered with anticipation. Her head was spinning, pussy throbbing. She felt worshiped and simultaneously defiled. 

Peter pressed his forehead into hers, skin-to-skin. She stared into the black of his eyes in suspended silence, like the pornographic thoughts in his head were being projected into her mind.

Her own pupils were blown black. “Fuckin’ hate you so much—”

“I don’t care.”

“—re’such an asshole—”

“I don’t care,” he repeated more firmly. Then, “You belong with me.”

“You left me!” she fired back.

The sharpness of her tone sobered him a little. He blinked and sighed. “I couldn’t leave you. I didn’t leave you.”

She attempted to sit up, trying to lift her shoulders unsuccessfully. She writhed with spite, “Fuckin’ selfish prick, I outta cut off—”

“What was my drink order?”

He blurted the last sentence out with a mind-blowing level of calm. At once, their bodies went still. Still pinned to the table with a hummingbird beneath her breast, Honey stared up at him in confusion. 

Her brows pinched together. “Huh—?”

“My drink order,” Peter repeated, his expression void of the aggression he had the previous moment. 

It was like a mask had fallen away, and the man on top of her transformed into a different person. Maliciousness evaporated, replaced by eagerness. Desperation. 

Peter stared at her, intently searching her gaze. “At the shop,” he whispered, eyes soft. “What you used to make for me every time I came t’see you..?” The words fell away as he stared at her expectantly. 

She arched a brow. 

It had been black coffee, bitter and dark. Just like Peter’s entire world. How it had always been. Until—

“You said I should try something new,” he added, with urgency like reminding her of a forgotten dream. “So you made something for me—something... special.”

Peter’s heart swelled through his eyes at the last word. Honey stared up at him, perplexed. He was looking for the answer on the tip of her tongue:

Honey and Lavender. 

Confusion ceded to aggravation. A line formed between Honey’s brows.

“You remember, right?” he asked, hopeful.

She did. He knew she did. He could see it at the corners of her eyes, pooling behind her eyelids. Sobering memories flooded her, cooling the heat between them. A different sort of ache settled in.

Reluctantly, she nodded.

He took a breath, relieved but still anxious. “Say those words,” he said, “if you really want me to stop.”

Her damp lashes fluttered as Honey blinked up at him in surprise. Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, he swallowed dryly. His stomach lurched at the thought of being sent away like this. 

Still, it was a risk he had to take. 

“I can let go, walk away,” he offered tenderly. “Right now. No questions asked.” Each word felt like sticking needles through his tongue. He gave her an out, needing confirmation that her reciprocated lust wasn’t imagined. 

“Say the words,” Peter whispered in lament, “and I’ll leave you alone.”

That word settled like a boulder crushing his chest.

Despite Peter’s heart telling him her rejection would be unbearable, the thought of truly harming her was more so. 

Honey studied him with thoughtful eyes, contemplative and curious. He had won. He subdued her. Restrained her. She remembered when he threw a piano like a toddler throwing a toy truck. 

She could do little to stop him if he wanted to force her. And yet—

There he is. 

This was the man she remembered. The one that was ready to die for her. To die by her hand, if that’s what she wanted. 

“Two words,” Peter sighed, his nose brushing against hers. It was a sweetly affectionate gesture. “Say the words, and this can end right n—”

Honey captured his lips, stealing his breath like it was her only source of oxygen. Static filled Peter’s ears, his body tensing and relaxing simultaneously. He was soaring and plummeting. Rising and falling. 

Her tongue slipped past his lips, dragging along the pad of his mouth. Soon enough, the sweetness melted off in their flames. 

Honey pulled her mouth away, barely able to get out her plea. “Touch me, Peter. Make me feel it.”

And she dove right back in. This time, Peter plunged with her, deep beneath the waves of lust. He sank into her current, dragging her with the tide of desire.

Peter’s hands were frantic travelers. Flitting from her wrists to her shoulders. To gently cup her face. To smooth over the mounds of her breasts. To dig his fingers into the linen fabric of the sweetheart neckline.

“Love this dress,” he idly mumbled between kisses, abusing the neckline. “Mmm—where’d ya say ya got it?”

“Oh…uhm—?”

The question caught her off guard. She blushed, brain foggy with lust. Her instinct was to say something like ‘thank you,’ but her tongue fumbled the words. “Uh... it was, I think, Old Navy—?”

A ripping sound shocked her. She squeaked as a flurry of cotton fibers burst from the top of the dress. 

Peter yanked the linen bodice apart like tissue paper, his tongue chasing away any protest from her lips. Gooseflesh broke out as her skin was exposed to the air. Driven by lust, he shoved the ruined material down to her waist. 

“Fuck, Peter...” she gasped, scandalized.

“Sorry,” he muttered, not sorry.

It was his turn to be greedy. Peter dug his hands beneath the cups of her bra, toying with the peaks of her breasts. 

With a snap, the bra was torn in half. The strength in Peter’s long fingers stunned her. Puzzling her as much as it turned her on.

He laved at her left breast with his tongue, drawing an obscene moan from her. His hand pinched sadistically at her right nipple. The delectable sting traveled from her chest to her cunt. She arched—”ughhh, god”—her spine bowing beautifully.

He held the cleft of her left breast delicately in his hand while lapping at the ridges of her peaked flesh. Warm tongue caressed the tip, drawing shapes and discovering pathways to her pleasure. Every little flick inspired something new. She cooed and twitched beneath him. He was desperate to memorize her taste. 

Languidly, he massaged each of her tits inside his mouth, his cock aching as he imagined licking her pussy with the same fervor. It was almost unbearable. A strangled moan vibrated through his chest at the picture in his mind. 

Her reaction to the sound came out as an agonized mewl. 

Oh.

He needed more of that sound.

Peter felt her push on his shoulders. Trying to wriggle away from his mouth. 

This time, he had no tolerance for misbehavior. He grabbed both wrists and forced them above her head. Honey yanked back, stunned at being glued down to the table surface by his palms. 

The peach of his pouty lips curved upward as his eyes took a turn ravishing her. She was a sight of wicked debauchery. Her hair was a mess, and her nearly-naked body lay across the table like a feast. Her thighs locked around his hips.

He used one hand to rub circles into the delicate skin of her restrained forearms. The other hand mischievously dipped lower and lower, sliding through her wet heat. Calloused, dexterous fingers spread her lips open, playing in her slick and prodding her tight hole. 

Honey was finished. Ruined. Past the point of no return. Unconditionally surrendered. Helpless and eager to subjugate herself to her conqueror. Filthy sounds filled the room, punctuated by weak cries from his new loyal subject.

“So pretty,” he sighed breathlessly as he coated his fingers in her cream. “All this for me, princess?” He cooed at her, edging on cruel.

A broken gasp fell from her lips, her chest pulsing involuntarily. 

“Aww, what’s the matter? Does this little pretty pussy ache, baby?”

A vortex formed deep in her belly, dragging her in. He licked his dry lips, salivating at the image.

“I know it hurts, baby, I know. I know,” he teased. “It’s been hard playin’ all by yourself, huh?” The sunniness of his voice was eclipsed. “All alone. Screamin’ out my name into your pillow. Fingers buried deep in your wet cunt.”

Honey’s eyes snapped open. Before she could respond, the breadth of his middle fingertip penetrated her. She gasped as his finger speared her open. All the while, he wore a devil’s smile.

“Ain’t that right? Only for me.” Entranced, he watched her every twitch and shudder. “This pussy belongs to me, doesn’t it?”

It was a question feigning the need for her confirmation. She couldn't answer. Couldn't breathe. 

No, that can’t be right—had he been watching her masturbate in her apartment? Was he watching her the entire time he was gone? 

The possibility enraged her. Ten orgasms from the King of New York’s Underworld couldn’t even quell that fire.

Peter smiled wickedly, playing with her pussy. Taking his time toying with her flesh. He was a tyrant-king, dominating her pleasure. With a calloused hand, he held onto her cunt like it belonged there.

But she was his wild colt. Difficult to break.

“Oh-n—ohh god,” she gasped. Unbeknownst to him, an evil plot bloomed in her brain. Her lips curled into a smile.

“Fuck—gah—ohhhhh…”

He licked up each broken syllable.

“Yes! Oh, god, yes! Oh—” 

Sweat beaded on her chest, sin oozing through her pores.

“...Pedro.”

Halt.

Brakes squealing. Full stop. Not only in the physical world between them but also in Peter’s living fantasy.

Mischievously, Honey’s grin widened. 

She got him, alright. 

Flawless victory.

Dark eyes flashing, Peter withdrew his fingers from her. “Fuckin’ brat…”

In one fluid motion, Peter flipped her over to her belly, stunning her. He followed with another forceful slap to her ass cheek. This one was more punishing than the last, drawing a puppy-like yelp. His voice was ice. Eyes black. 

Now, she was in trouble.

“Think that’s funny?” he said through gritted teeth.

Peter manipulated her limbs like a rag doll. He maneuvered her forward until her cheekbone pressed against the table. She panicked for a moment at being in such a compromising position. 

The chill of the air across her wet pussy made her shiver. At the same time, she clenched at his roughness.

Peter kneaded her sides, pressing fingerprint bruises on her waist. He yanked her hips towards him until her knees were on the table’s edge. Honey’s face burned, stricken with modesty and flustered by how he hoisted her ass in the air. 

Her hips were propped up like a rack of lamb, and he licked his lips at the sight. It was too vulnerable, being bared to him like this. Obscene, on display, inches from his face. 

For a half second, she considered using the safe words. 

She squirmed uncomfortably while her mess dripped down the inside of her thighs. Peter denied any attempt to escape, eventually gathering her limbs and pulling her hands behind her back. 

Short puffs of breath fogged the glass surface of the table. Her heart pounded beneath her. Honey had only witnessed this side of him a few times—and never directed toward her. 

She was in trouble. But was she in danger?

The buckle of his belt clinked as it came free. Honey quivered at the sound, pussy aching in anticipation.

And if she was in danger, why did that make her wet?

“Pete—” Honey muttered, a scream bubbling at the back of her throat. Leather nipped at her forearms as he used his belt to tie her hands behind her back. 

“Ple-please—“

He fisted her hair, rearing her head back. Her neck arched beautifully, her chin dangling above the table surface.

“Listen to me, princess,” Peter snarled, hot in her ear. Spite peppered his tone. “If you ever call out another man’s name when I’m inside ya again— I’ll make ya wear nothin’ but my cum for the next week.” 

The savage tone contrasted with the glow of his eyes. 

It was always opposites with him.

This was the same man who coddled and worshiped her. The same one who kidnapped her, drugged her, blindfolded her, and gagged her. 

He forced her, a willing participant, into his bed—by asking her permission. 

Peter was more than capable of keeping her chained to his bedpost if he wanted it. 

Or… if she wanted it.

Peter snickered at her expression. “Ooh, yeah… Betchu’d like that, huh?” He taunted her like she was broadcasting her dirty thoughts. “Such a needy little slut for me, ain't that right?” 

Honey felt his warmth leave her back, like being plunged into the Hudson in winter. His hands reappeared at the back of her thighs, and her first instinct was to try to close her legs. 

That was a mistake and an impossible endeavor. 

He split her thighs like opening a book. Grinned at the sight as if he stumbled across gold.

“Fuck, babygirl, you’re soaked. Just talkin’ about it and look at the mess you made…”

Embarrassment and want ravaged her. The conflicting experiences had her ovaries twisted into knots. Honey bit her tongue, unsure if she was going to scream or moan. 

Instead, it came out like a pathetic mewl. “Pe-Peter, please—”

Then he open-palm-smacked her cunt, fingers landing directly on her labia. 

The wet sound it made was humiliating, and the sensation triggered all of the reactions above. She squealed at the sting on her folds. This was a delectable torture. For Peter, it was an appetizing sight. 

“Ya like that?” he grinned over the sound of her whimpers. He already knew the answer.

Another slap to her cunt made her whole body shake. 

“Like bein’ my kept girl? Tryin’ so hard to get my attention. Drivin’ me nuts. Well, you got it now, Honey.” 

Slap. 

A third strike had her pussy clenching. Honey had never experienced such an erotic rush before. She shuddered with embarrassment, afraid she’d cum from this—

Slap! Slap! Slap!

Honey gasped for air, a scream breaking through her voice. She was drowning in sick pleasure, tears in her eyes.

The mob boss gripped her thighs again, pulling her knees off the table and lifting up the weight of her lower half. The action was as easy as lifting a sheet of paper. 

God, his strength was impossible. She struggled to comprehend it while picturing herself being broken apart by it. A slew of tiny pleas fell from her lips. She didn’t even know what she was begging for—his mercy or punishment.

“Shh, shh, babygirl,” he purred with a candy voice. Brought his lips to where she was split, equal parts seductive and sinister. “Be still for me. I gotcha.” He wore a Cheshire grin. “Lemme kiss it better.” 

Slowly, he licked a line from her clit to the entrance of her cunt. She shuddered, followed by a lewd wail. She bucked her hips as he let the tip of his tongue toy with her. 

“Mmmf—so fuckin’ sweet,” Peter mumbled between languid strokes around her vaginal gate. His grip was inescapable. “Can’t help myself, s-sooo hungry…”

Honey felt an evil smile against her skin before his mouth went back to work on her. Tiny, stinging nips and kitten licks tormented her flesh. With her hips locked in place, he lashed her clit with his tongue.

Honey squirmed against the leather belt, her nails digging into the grain. She wanted to be bound like this forever. 

Peter had no intention of letting her go any time soon. 

With her thighs spread open, he dragged her toward the edge of her ecstasy. As soon as he felt her body begin to shake, he pulled away. The punishment ended with another smack to her swollen clit.

Honey cried out in frustration at having her release snatched away. 

Oh, yes—He was weak for that sound.

“What’s’a matter, baby?” he smirked with a dark chuckle. This was becoming his favorite pastime. “You mad now that you’re not the only one who can play games?”

“Gahh—Peter… fuck, plea—don’t tease—!”

Peter’s fingers slipped inside with a squelch, shutting her up. Simultaneously, he lapped at her juices while massaging her walls. Soon, he settled into an unbreakable focus.

Each kiss to her nether lips sizzled with passion. Fueled by devotion usually only reserved for a wedding day. 

“—mmmm, tastes so pretty,” he murmured into her flesh, “my pretty girls...” 

In her dazed state, Honey wondered with a pang of jealousy who the ‘she’ he was referring to was. 

“—sooo sensitive; she likes it when I kiss her like that, yeah?—” He said, in between languid, open-mouth kisses to her slit.

Jesus Fucking Christ, he’s talking about my pussy? In the third person? 

Honey gasped, scandalized at the preposterous thought. It was the most deliciously erotic moment of her life. Enraptured tears budded her eyes, the coil in her belly nearly suffocating her.

“—Fuck, oh god, Peter, don’t stop, don’stop, donstop, donstah—”

Preoccupied with his own intoxicating thoughts, Peter was eager with his tongue and steady with his hands. The room filled with the filthy, wet sounds of his carressing and French kissing of her cunt. He pleasured her with his fingers and mouth, passionately— reverently— as if making love to two different brides. 

Soon, Honey’s pleas were barely more than breathless whining. He smiled like the devil, lips coated with her slick. 

“Patience, Honey,” he admonished, sing-song and patronizing. “If you’re a good girl, maybe I might let you get to taste Her, too.”

Fuck—she was going to come from this. 

The more perverse his words were, the closer she was. So, so close—

Then, another sharp slap. 

Honey wailed, fingers digging into the leather of her restraints. Her whole body protested. The cycle repeated so many times she lost count—until her flesh was puffy from his torture. 

“Please, don’t—please, Peter, don’t tease,” she frantically begged, tears streaming. “No more— Please, I wanna come so bad—” 

He sucked on her clit.  “Yeah?”

“God, yes, please—Nyahhh-need you—Need you... inside—“

Peter hissed behind his teeth, struggling to keep his pace even as his cock jerked at her pleas. He flashed an evil smile. “S’at right?”

“Pl-please, f-feels so good, ple—gah-I need it—!”

He was in no hurry. It was almost greedy, the way he ravaged her. His fingers pressed Merlot bruises into her hips and waist while his mouth left raspberry welts on her thighs. 

Honey cried out around a moan as she felt his fingers deepen. His loving touches to her sensitive spots turned wicked, reminding her this was also a penalty for her bratty transgressions. She wept and squirmed, practically drooling on the table.

He simply grinned.

“—Mmmhm, that’s it—scream for me, princess—”

Honey’s tiny little hip thrusts fit easily in his palm as he groped her. He found it adorable, really.

“Mmm...m’sorr—ow—agh!”

“Sorry’s not gonna cut it,” he panted, eyes blown black. Shadow returned to his voice. “You’re mine now, ya hear?” His eyes traveled to where his fingers were buried to the knuckles. “Gonna fuck you every way I want—”

“Pleasepleasepleaseyes—it’syoursit’syoursallyours—”

His eyes swam over her body, drunk with lust.

All mine. 

The sinfulness of his thoughts tugged his insides into a vortex. This was wrong, he reasoned. Not how he wanted this to go. Poor girl sounded brainless, begging to be fucked.  He wasn’t much better off. This wasn’t how he planned this to go. 

But he was willing to pivot.

Hands shaking, he fumbled with his fly. It wasn’t until his cock bobbed free, glistening with precum, that he felt any sort of relief. Peter grabbed her hips and lifted them off of the table, repositioning her so he was lined up with her slit.

“Fuckin’ need you so much, Honey—” he muttered mindlessly, focused on pushing the swollen, leaking crown of his cock against the silk of her pussy. 

Her hips’ weight rested easily in his hands, and she keened at the sensation of his head pressing against her entrance. 

And god, she'd forgotten he was thick.

Honey tensed up, even as her pussy throbbed with want. It was as if all her muscles were reaching for him, heart included.

It was too much. Mascara trailed faintly down her cheeks. Her heart soared. And ached. She felt spoiled with pleasure, delighting in this penance.

More. She wanted more.

“Fuck—wanted ya so bad,” Peter mumbled, watching his cock slip through her lips. He sounded airy, hypnotized by the view. “Wanted t’crawl through your window like the goddamn—ahh— boogeyman... fuck ya in your own bed. Wanted t’take’ya home with me and keep ya there— Never let you leave.”

Honey swallowed back a sob. Then why did you send me away? 

He paused. 

Uh-oh. Did she say that out lo—?

“Because I’m an idiot,” Peter huffed, his voice fragile. 

He leaned forward and lovingly kissed up her spine, each tender press of his lips an apology. 

“I’m a stupid fuckin’ fool.” The heat of his breath ghosted across her back. “So stupid—Thought I could protect ya if I kept you away. Thought I could somehow live like that—without you.” He shook his head. “Goddamn fool.”

Peter felt the sting of tears flooding his vision. Instinctively, he squeezed his eyes shut to keep them out. “I can’t live without ya,” he nearly whimpered. “There is no life for me if you’re not in it.”

“Peter,” she said, feeling her heart lurch. Her spirit was a ship being tossed in a hurricane. One more wave, and she would break. Honey’s voice trembled, “St-stop t-talking—”

“Not until I’ve said what I shoulda said—!”

“If you don’t shut up and fuck me in the next five seconds—”

Peter cut her off by pulling her up by the shoulders and standing her upright. Honey fought it—because, of course, she did—desperately clutching the steel armor around her heart. 

Overpowering her again, he tugged the naked woman closer until her back lined up to his chest. It was an awkward position with her bound arms crushed behind her against his abs. He towered over her, eyeing her face from the side, seeking her gaze. Hooked a finger beneath her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye. 

Always the fighter, Honey tried to wrench herself from his hold. Peter’s body was like a Greek god’s, with pillar-like arms and marble fingers keeping her from wriggling away. But his soft, soulful eyes are what pinned her in place. 

As soon as she peered into their oaken color, she was trapped again. 

“No,” she sneered, shaking her head. The tears weren’t from pleasure anymore. “Don’t—”

“‘Honey and Lavender,’” he whispered, featherlike. “Those are the words. All you gotta do is say ‘em, and I’ll stop.”

She gritted her teeth, bucking against his sweetness. His arms wrapped around her torso, pulling her in.

“I thought you wanted to fuck me!” she revolted, voice getting weaker by the second. “What the hell do you want from me, Peter?!” 

His features softened. Serenity pressed between his lips. “I want all of you, Honey,” he answered with resolve. “Body and soul. Wanna spend the rest of my life with ya. If you don’t kill me first.” 

He said the ‘if’ part with a teasing lilt in his tone and a half-smile. The same smirk that she loathed—and fell in love with. 

Honey squeezed her eyes shut. Peter’s thumb came up gently, wiping a messy tear from her cheek. That loving and pure act was worse than any torture he could inflict.

Walls tumbling down, her body loosened. She went slack against his arms, instead fighting to keep more tears from flowing.

“I love you,” he whispered, pouring his soul into each word. “Forever. Remember? No matter what.” 

Peter waited for her eyelids to peel back, revealing glossy eyes and a weary expression. They stayed still for eons. Nothing but their breaths and heartbeats between them, eyes locked on each other.

“Even if you’re mad as hell at me,” he added. “Even if you hate me—I want it all.”

Her lower lip wobbled. “And what then, Peter? What now?”

A moment passed. He leaned around her shoulder, bringing her chin close, and answered her with a kiss. Gentle at first, his tongue explored hers as she relaxed against him. She felt her toes leave the ground before she realized what was happening.

Peter broke the kiss. “Now?” he breathed into her hairline. “I’m gonna show you what it means to be mine.”

One of his hands left her torso—borrowed to push the head of his cock into her gate. An overwhelming burn erupted between her legs. She arched her back away from his abs as best she could while being split open.

Honey wailed brokenly, voice shattered, as he bottomed out. Peter’s hand instinctively came up to cover her mouth. She let the scream out into his palm, just as he’d promised.

Peter hissed, letting his head fall back in agonized ecstasy. His eyes drifted shut, feeling both relief and torment buried to the hilt in her warmth. 

He barely ground out, “Shh-shhh, s’alright... that’s it, s-so good, so good for me...”

His Honey was already writhing on his cock, and he hadn’t even begun to move. She was so goddamn tight he wasn’t sure he wanted to move at all.

Still, he couldn’t help indulging himself. Never could, around her.

The arm bracing Honey’s torso snaked back across her body. His hand, burning hotter than a branding iron, stretched out and smoothed over the curvature of her belly. Her pussy clenched tighter as his palm found the trophy he was looking for—an obscene bulge in her lower stomach.

A slow, sinful curve played upon his lips. “Fuck, babygirl. Look at you.” When he uncovered her mouth, her roars had quieted down to a wanton purr. He gently tilted her head downwards so she could witness the depravity herself. “Just look at how you take my dick, Honey.” 

She shuddered at the sight, nodding rapidly, unable to speak. She wondered if this was just more teasing, but she couldn’t think beyond the penetration. 

“God, you look so beautiful like that,” he muttered breathlessly. His amber eyes were fixated on the sinful spectacle beneath her waist, unable to avert his gaze. “So pretty with my cock stuffed up inside your tummy...” 

Peter sounded unhinged, even to himself. His abs twisted into knots. Vile, perverse images eclipsed his sense of decency—her body naked and wrecked, with his seed spilling from her holes. Then, her belly round with his children. Just the thought devolved him like his civilized nature was sucked back into a black hole.

Wordless whimpers poured from her lips as her taut muscles succumbed to his girth. Calloused fingertips reached further down, brushing against the hood of her clit. She jolted in his arms with the slightest touch.

At that moment, Honey’s world disappeared. Nothing existed but the exquisite ache between her legs. 

The conquerer inside him preened. “Is that the spot? Is that where it hurts, baby?” he purred into her ear with a filthy, predatory voice. Her body answered him, rewarding him with a delicious squeeze around his shaft. “That’s it,” Peter groaned, insatiable. “Good girl. So good for me.” 

His praise, even if it was teasing, was too much. Peter’s affirmations, paired with his ministrations, tightened the coil in her stomach. Exhaustion crept up on her body even as the bubble of desire swelled.

Ever so slowly, his hips pitched back and then forward. He bottomed out again at the end of the languid stroke. A shattered mewl burst from her lips, pussy pulsating around his dick.

She was magnificent. 

”Fuck, baby. Feels s-so fuckin’ good—ahh, I missed this tight pussy so much. Wanted to play with her so bad…”

Peter’s hips moved of their own accord. They were a pornographic masterpiece in the decorative mirrors situated around the room. He stole a greedy glance at the couple’s reflection. Smiling wickedly, he turned her head, making her see what he was seeing.

Honey’s stomach fluttered at the sight of her body—glistening and restrained—slotted against him. Her head bobbed as Peter gripped her hips and fucked into her like a sex doll. 

Perverse. Debauched. Divine. It made her lightheaded.

Slowly, he increased the pace of his thrusts, panting into her ear. At some point, she started muttering. Broken and embarrassingly desperate pleas and pet names tumbled unwittingly out of her mouth.

One of them must have caught his attention. But she honestly couldn’t remember what she had said.

“Ugh—I lose my fuckin’ mind when you call me that name,” he growled, throwing his head back. “Ya know that, precious? Such a good girl for me. Good girls get spoiled.” 

Honey’s body thrummed at his baby talk. In all its depravity, she started to suspect what she must have said in all its depravity. Slowly, she was losing the ability to be ashamed.

The slick-coated pad of Peter’s thumb circled her clit, before traveling down further. He curiously prodded where they were joined—“Fuck, look at how good ya open up for me.” — His fingers trailed the outline of her stretched hymen wrapped around his cock.

Honey closed her eyes and turned away, blushing from his praise. Timid about how she relished in the filth. Peter brought his lips to her ear as if there was a secret the two of them shared.

“Don’t worry, baby. I gotcha—Daddy’s gonna make the ache go away.”

The spring snapped. She was nearly knocked over by the wave of pleasure that followed. Her pussy fluttered around his cock with no warning, body trembling and toes curling. Her cream gushed down his shaft. 

He snickered as if he’d won a prize. 

Honey could vaguely recognize her pathetic voice through the bells in her ears. She squealed and cried out over his repetitive, patronizing chants — “Awwgoodgirl, fuckin’ so-so perfect— squeezin’ me so tight” — while he fucked her through her orgasm.

It felt like several moments of pure pink haze, herself a willing victim to his delicious, relentless pull. 

“Shit, sweetie, did you just come all over my cock?” he asked, exasperated.

Embarrassment flooded her despite her persistent mewling. 

“Don’t cry, baby. Don’chu worry,” he murmured affectionately, himself obsessed with the cavern of her divine flesh. “When I said I was gonna make you my toy, I meant it.” She whimpered, nodding her head as it rested back against his shoulder. “M’not finished with you,” he said, dropping an octave. “Not by a long shot.”

Time ceased to have true meaning. Peter rammed into her steadily.

“Please don’stop, please use me, please, wan’more—” She yelped like a puppy.

He smiled against her sweaty skin. “Yeah? Ya like bein’ a good girl? My good girl?”

“I’llbegoodI’llbegoodm’yours—fuck—yoursyoursyours—”

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he groaned, with another curse beneath his breath. Eyes drifted shut. “Good, good girl.”

All he could think of was more. 

More of that sound. More of her juices. More of her staccato breaths as he fucked her tits into a steady bounce on her chest. More of her whining, whimpering like a bitch in heat.

“All mine, all mine…”

Peter needed more of her. He needed to watch her fall apart on his cock again. Honey was so close already; he could feel it. He’d give her another orgasm, one that leaves her in tears. Then another. He was going to fuck her into submission atop the throne he built for her. She was already his queen. 

Then—He’d make her his whore.

Flip her on her back against the table—or couch— countertop—fuck, maybe the bed if he could remember where it was. Whatever he could reach first. 

Then he’d split her open again on his cock. That way, he could see the enraptured awe on her face. The neediness. Big, round, wet eyes pleading for his touch, calling him filthy names, as his cock bulges below her pubic bone. Begging him to rearrange her guts.

It was heavenly to witness. Peter loved watching her come. And he would, over and over. Once he relocated her to his bed—as soon as he remembered where it was— he could tie her to it.

Not that Honey was fighting at the present. There was no fight in her body, except maybe the will to keep conscious. With every strike against her cervix, she spread herself wider for him. 

But Peter knew she would like it. Honey wanted his unforgiving ecstasy. To take out the mounting frustration of the last few months on her wet pussy. 

“M’gonna fuck you so good, babygirl, m’gonna use your body like my fucktoy—make me feel s-sogood, don’worry—“ 

Honey full-body shuddered with a sob, her head thrown back against his shoulder. 

“S’okay, baby, you can scream if y’want, makes it feel better, doesn’t it, huh—”

Cock-drunk, she nodded, her words coming out as puffs of air.

“Don’stop—don’stop—please, fuck— fuckmehardDaddyIneedit—“

Oh. 

More. Of. That.

“M’not lettin’ you get away again…” he muttered, voice emerging from beneath his twitching abdominal muscles. With possessed eyes, he was glued to where they joined. “Never—never gonna let you go again… All mine now, Honey—you’re all mine…”

Her arms came up to circle the back of his neck as she panted into his throat. “My-my pussy is yours…”

“Everything,” he corrected.

“Everythi—god—I’m yours, Pete—ahh!”

Peter was getting close. No matter. He’d let himself come inside her soon. There was plenty more to follow. 

He barely recognized his own wrecked voice. “’m not leavin,’ baby. I’m not leavin’ ever.”

A gust of wind followed him as the front door to the suite slammed shut. Peter stood alone in the hotel hallway wearing a sheen of sweat... and nothing else. 

He flushed pink, fumbling to cover himself behind his hands. The cool air made the task easier.

Peter sighed. He’d need to talk to maintenance about better insulation up here.

But not right now. Not while Peter Parker stood ass-naked outside of his door, having been kicked out like a cheap fuck. 

Which might have been Honey’s point, he recognized.

The evidence of their past hour together made his skin sticky. She’d tousled his hair and etched into his back with her nails. He felt sore in places he hadn’t felt in years.

Peter also looked thoroughly fucked. A mixture of pain and relief surged through his muscles. His brain was branded with erotic images of her. He wanted them there.

The door opened again, lifting his hopes. He only caught a fleeting glimpse of Honey, wrapped sloppily in a bathrobe. The rest of her didn’t look much better than Peter. She wore a sour yet adorable scowl on her face.

With a huff, Honey hurled a tight wad of fabric at his nuts, unintentionally intentional in her aim. 

Peter oofed, doubling over to catch the ball of his clothes. At the same time, an Italian leather shoe smacked him in the head. Probably his Tom Ford’s. He heard the door slam closed again, rattling against the frame.

Perplexed, Peter gazed at the molding of the door and the gleaming golden script marking the room number. 

He wondered. 

Would she open the door again to throw him the other shoe? 

Or perhaps the slacks that went along with the dress shirt covering his balls?

Unlikely.

He marveled. 

The nerve of this woman. This goddess-barista who served him his soul in a paper cup. Who held the keys to his heart, his home, and presently, his hotel room. Who somehow managed to kick him out of the penthouse suite of his own hotel. 

Within the confines of his ruined dress shirt, Peter felt another buzz. He fumbled with the shirt, reaching the smartphone concealed inside.

>>> have you moved onto the main course? >>> or are you still tossing the salad? >>> pouring ranch on her hidden valley

Felicia. Peter’s eyes nearly rolled out of his head. With a sigh, he tapped out a reply.

<<<  Kitchen’s closed.  <<< Need clothes. And a new room.

He saw the ellipsis bubbling up on his screen. 

<<< Not another word.

As soon as the message was sent, Peter took another glance at his empty surroundings. Haplessly, he looked toward the closed door. A river of memories flooded him. It surged, swelled, and finally, came to a low simmer.

This was never going to be easy. Nothing ever was with her.

Nothing worth waiting for ever is.

“See you at breakfast,” he whispered aloud lips curled into a smile. “Sleep tight.”

Holding her breath and her ear to the door, Honey waited until Peter’s footsteps faded. When she could no longer hear them, she sighed with exasperation, overcome with exhaustion. Eyes falling closed, Honey leaned back against the door, body aching in places she would feel for days.

After taking a moment, she heard a buzzing sound further in the suite. Honey jumped with alarm, then stumbled on Fawn’s feet to reach the source.

Quickly, Honey waddled to the remains of her yellow dress, fishing out the buzzing object: a 10-year-old smartphone with a black glittery hard case. A holographic cat sticker was fixed to the back, shimmering in the dim light. 

Not just any cat.

She unlocked the phone to see the latest message.

>>> how’d it go? u give him hell?

The heaviest exhale left Honey’s chest, shame creeping up her chest. With her thumb, she scrolled up to review the text messages sent to her. The oldest of which dated back almost four months.

Weeks of correspondence and reassurance from Felicia, not to mention very clear instructions about Peter Parker and how to play his game. 

There was the one from last month:

>>> don’t let him think for one second that you’re gonna let him get off easy!

Then one from last week:

>>> make him suffer. make him grovel. make him lay down in a puddle so you can cross

And these:

>>> go to dinner, but don’t eat anything. order wine, the most expensive one, take one sip and refuse the rest. you pick the restaurant. if he picks the restaurant, hate everything about it >>> play hard to get— but don’t be too cold >>> be flirty. but not slutty.  >>> give him bedroom eyes, but don’t let him stare at you too long.

Finally, there was a clear instruction sent earlier today.

>>> under no circumstances >>> no matter what >>> you need to remember this >>> DO NOT FUCK HIM!!1

Honey frowned as she gazed at Felicia’s text message bubble, sent with so much hope and good intention. A notion soundly defeated. A truly hopeless endeavor, if there ever was one.

Biting her lip, Honey tapped out a reply to her confidant:

<<< Sure did.

Thank you for everything you do. Please keep fanfic healthy and support my writing with a reblog.

#Lizzy writes! sugar and vice #peter parker x reader #the amazing spiderman #the amazing spiderman fanfiction #spiderman au #spiderman fanfiction #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x oc #andrew garfield #tasm peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #tasm peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #spiderman smut #spiderman x oc #tasm!peter parker #peter parker x you #mafia au #mob!peter au #spidermafia viceverse #spider man #tasm 2 #tasm #tasm fanfiction #tasm fic #tasm peter x reader #tasm smut #tasm x reader #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm spiderman

[gh0stsp1d3r]

hiiii, could i request some tooth-rotting-sweet fluff with Miguel x reader who is latina and GREAT with children? tyyyy!!!

I tried to remember what I learned in Spanish class 😭 so please correct me if I’m wrong

Most of the spider society knew you. They all loved you, and they also thought it was odd.

He was always angry, and he wasn’t nice to anyone, at least that’s how some people saw him. But you, you were the opposite.

Peter B Parker was a spider man you were close with. You loved Mayday and often babysat for him when he needed it.

And right now out of all times was the last time he needed you to come in.

You met miles outside, Gwen introducing him. He even showed you some of his Spanish, and you tried to help him with some things as you both walked.

When you made it to his office, you rolled your eyes at his dramatic entrance.

“Miguel.” You shouted, he glanced back but didn’t turn fully.

“Miguel O’Hara, meet Miles Morales.” Gwen said.

“Qué tal, tío. I-I speak Spanish. Te traje una empanada.” He held up an empanada box.

You facepalmed at the boys words. Calling Miguel dude when you first meet him is a big no.

Miguel turned back, and brought the empanada to him.

“Que Marivilla.” He dropped the empanada and looked at you.

“See you’ve met my wife.” He grumbled.

“Wife..?” Miles said, a little confused.

“Yes, my wife. Who should be at home right now.” He snapped his head to you.

“Me aburrí.” You shrugged.

“Lo que vino aquí..?”

“Es decir sí, pero...”

He rolled his eyes. “You know what- nevermind.” And focused back on miles.

It was almost a game of good cop bad with you two.

“I’m really excited to get going-“

“Oh great.”

“-And I have some new fresh ideas on how to catch the spot-“

“Uh-huh-uh-huh.” He turned around, and in an angry rage, threw a metal desk at the floor. You shook your head and rolled your eyes.

“He’s worried about spot, I’ll worry about spot!”

“What did I do?”

“You blew another hole in the multiverse!”

“Miguel, he doesn’t know any better.”

“But you did Gwen. And you- I can’t- I just can’t.” He looked to Hobie.

“I ain’t even here.”

“Hey, Miguel, Go easy on the kid. He had a terrible teacher he had no chance!” A voice came. Peter.

You smiled and looked back.

“Peter?”

“Peter.” Miguel said in annoyance, turning around again.

Miles ran up to him and hugged him.

“Miles? Don’t be afraid of my friend Miguel, he just looks scary, he’s all bark no bite. Believe me, he’s a sweetheart.” He looked at you, you stifled a laugh and looked back to Miguel.

Miguel and miles talked, and caught up.

“Mayday.” You said, when she started swinging, she started to climb up the walls as you watched her. She then dropped into your hands. You smiled at her, and started to smother her with kisses as she giggled.

Miguel watched, as much as he hated Peter, he liked seeing you with children. You were great with them, random children in the store, and mayday especially.

You were even Maydays godmother, which Miguel tried to argue against saying it’s too much responsibility if something does happen but you practically begged. He smiled ever so slightly, but quickly wiped that smile away when he thought that someone was looking.

“You have a baby!”

“I have a baby.”

You laughed at the child, who then jumped out of your arms and swung over to Miguel.

“No puedo mas, no puedo mas, no puedo mas.” Miguel mumbled, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration as the child climbed up him.

“Awww, I told you she likes you.” You smiled at Miguel.

“I knew I was gonna regret making her that webshooter.”

“Yeah, please never send her over to our house with them again.” You laughed. And remembered a few days ago when you watched her while Peter and Mj went on a date, with Miguel fuming as the child giggled and threw webs everywhere.

“Noted.”

“Hey you wanna see pictures?” Peter dropped back down and pulled out his phone.

“She’s right there- oh. Wow.”

Peter showed them pictures as she climbed up Miguel. Then Peter came over to Miguel.

“I’m trying to have a serious adult conversation.” He said, as mayday climbed all over him.

“You know spider-man is supposed to be funny, you’re the only one who isn’t funny. Even your wife is hilarious. It’s a wonder you two get along.”

“The fate of the multiverse-“

“You always lose me with that. You say the fate of the multiverse and my brain dies.” Miguel handed mayday back to Peter, glancing at you who was just looking in amusement.

“You smell that? Yup. Mayday took a crap. She’s a Parker.” Peter swung away, and set mayday down by Hobie.

“Miles, you disrupted a canon event.” Miguel focused back.

“Canon event?”

“The kid wasn’t thinking. That’s not how he works.”

“That’s insulting.”

“Taking a crap on the establishment, I salute you.” Hobie said, saluting Mayday.

“Wait, what are you upset about? I saved those people.”

Miguel dropped down. “And that’s the problem. Lyla do the thing.” He stopped.

“What thing?”

“What do you mean what thing- the information explainy thing.”

“He’s talking about the Arachno humanoid poly multiverse.” You said when Lyla looked at you.

Miguel rolled his eyes “Yes, that’s what I’m talking about.” And gave you an annoyed look.

“No me mires así.”

“Lo siento, amor.”

(Hope I’m using that right cuz from what I remember that’s how you apologize? Idk correct me if I’m wrong)

“You better be.” You mumbled as he continued his explaining.

—————————————————————

Might make a part 2. Lmk if anyone wants one tho 😭

Tag list:

@rayis-psychotic @scaraza @xxqueen-of-horrorxx @1eonk @whosace16 @zebralover @tzuyuzzs @luvsaluv @mxkn @deputy-videogamer

@666kpopfan @lavsluvsu @lampylamperson @notbluees @chaoticevilbakugo @oscar-isaacs-wife

#miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader #miguel o’hara x reader

[f10werfae]

Written on Polaroids

Pairing: Husband! Chris Evans x Plus size! Latina! Reader

Disclaimer: This story is fiction and should not be taken literally, the behaviour is simply imaginative and the content may be inappropriate

Word count: 1,380

Summary: Request with a filthy smut 😍 (no for real i need to now go say the rosary and pray)

Warnings: Unprotected sex, spit play, dirty talk, breeding kink, n idk what else 🤞

—————-

Requests are open!

Likes, Comments and Re-blogs are appreciated♥️

————-

(Chris' P.O.V)

I greeted the likes of Downey and Mackie as I got onto set, the loud shouts of production filling my ears

Heading into my trailer, pictures of me and my lovely wife were littered everywhere, pictures from our wedding day or when she brought me home to (Insert country)

I was blessed with such an amazing woman, don’t even get me started on her body.

Sitting by my desk, I took off my backpack, reaching in for my script notebook

“Ah shit” Instead of my usual green book, I was instead holding a fluffy pink book in my hands, how the hell did I make that mistake.

“Musta taken Y/n's by mistake” Throwing it onto the desk, something fell by my feet, my eyes instantly widening when I picked it up.

“That minx” Twirling the polaroid in my hand, a picture of us immediately after sex stared back at me, both our bodies covered but our faces still in that post-sex haze.

The back of the photo was dated “14/2/22 Valentines day with Chris <3”

Let’s just say my curiosity got the better of me and I wanted to have a snoop through her book, she wouldn’t mind right?

Ignoring the warnings on the front page, partly because they were in Spanish that was wayyy still too advanced for me. The first few pages were just her detailing what went on during the day, chuckles leaving me every time she complained about how i’d leave a dirty plate out.

Then came the pages where the dates showed I was away filming, these pages broke my heart. Details of her day without me, consisted of caring for Dodger, going to work and as she said “moping around”

“Woahohoho” Turning to the next few pages, my eyes jumped to random words such as ‘dick’ on the page sticking out. The dates saying the times I had come home after weeks away, multiple pictures of us post sex all over the double page spread.

“So this is what she does with the pictures she takes” I said out to myself, remembering the times she’d jump out of bed and ask to take a photo of us, more often than not, ending up with me asking for a separate copy to bring with me in my wallet.

Starting to read the first paragraph

“Within seconds of him getting through the front door, his eyes instantly bore into mine, a primal growl leaving him as he picked me up and dragged me upstairs to our bedroom.

His paws clawing away at my clothes, his face smothered into the crook of my neck placing kisses everywhere, leaving me breathless.

With both of us now naked, he placed a wet open mouthed kiss on my lips, all teeth and spit.

Dragging himself down my body to face my wet centre, he dragged a finger down my folds, instantly making me shudder.

He made a comment about wanting to be smothered between my thighs, always wanting to be between my legs, because that’s where he belonged…”

Deciding not to read further, I felt my cock start to ache in my pants, the thought of her filling my mind.

Stuffing her book back into my backpack, I rushed out of my trailer, shouting excuses of major migraines before bolting for my car.

All through the ride home all I could think about were her fleshy tits and kissing them as I pummelled my cock into her pussy.

Parking into the driveway, I rushed inside the house throwing the bag to the side, not announcing my arrival yet.

The sound of her playlist filled the house along with the smell of her famous Empanadas. Smiling to myself at the thought of it all, I sauntered into the kitchen, any pure thoughts I had flying out the window.

There she was, the love of my life, standing in nothing but an oversized shirt, swaying her hips to the music, is she seriously trying to kill me?

Turning around shocked her eyes widened before she greeted me, “Hola Papi? I thought you wouldn’t be home until late”

Dropping her makeshift microphone, her voice like music to my ears.

She walked over, her hands going around my waist as she looked up at me with those beautiful eyes of hers, my home.

“You are in trouble” I whispered, crooking my neck down to meet her lips in a passionate kiss, my hands holding onto her love handles.

“Eh? what’d I do my love?”

“This” I said grabbing her book out of my bag, in seconds she had snatched the book back and clutched it to her chest.

“It’s too late baby, I’ve already seen it” I pushed further, setting the book down away from the both of us, intertwining our hands as I lead her up the stairs.

“Now get on the bed, naked”

(Y/n's P.O.V)

Following his orders, I felt myself getting wetter as time went on, watching as he undid his belt and it all fell to the floor.

Reaching over to stroke him, he caught my hand, “Tonight, i’m taking care of you”

Laying back down he crawled over me, beckoning for me to open my mouth before spitting into it, then bringing me in for a sloppy kiss.

“You are so gorgeous” He beamed looking down at me, his hand caressing my cheeks before his attention went to my chest.

“God should I just knock you up? Make 'em even fuller? Make you a momma?” He whispered, groping one of my breasts in his hands.

A whimper leaving my mouth both from his words and touch.

“Please” I breathed out

“I haven’t even started yet and you’re already begging baby” He laughed, crawling further down, leaving kisses on my tits which were now glimmering in his saliva.

“I love this pussy of yours, fits me so well” He whispered out, placing a kiss right onto my clit making my legs shiver.

“Don’t even get me started on this thighs of yours, fuck I could just love on them forever” Hickies now littering my thighs as he teased closer and closer to my now aching pussy.

“F-fuck Chris” I moaned out, his tongue licking a stripe up my pussy, not letting down and just continuing to ravish it.

Wet filthy sounds filled the room along with our groans, and the occasional spank to my ass.

“Baby, i’m gonna cum” Holding onto his head, I started to grind against his face, groaning when he pulled away.

“You’re only cumming on my cock sweetheart, we both know that”

“Well fucking put it in then, coño”

“Patience or you get nothing” Running the tip up and down my slit, my hips bucked, a deep chuckle radiating through him.

“F-fuck sweets, I can feel your walls tightening around me, fits like a glove” He groaned out as he sank into me, his hands caressing my sides lovingly as he bent down to hover over me again.

Kisses placed all over my neck as he started to drive his cock into me, tears starting to brim as he shushed me gently, his forehead against mine while he placed kisses on my lips every now and again.

“J-just relax baby” He whispered out, one of his hands toying with my nipple before reaching down to circle my bundle of nerves, causing my legs to close in around his waist.

“Gonna fuck you so hard bub, make your pussy all puffy and swollen yeah?” He moaned out, bitting down on my shoulder as his thrusts became more frantic.

“Yeah baby, knock me up, wan’ have your baby Chrissy” Pulling his face up to meet mine, I swallowed his moans as our lips and tongues met in desperation for each otherwise touch.

“I’m cumming hun” I moaned out louder, his thumb now rapidly playing with my clit sending me into overdrive, “go on sweet girl, let it all out for me”

That was all that was needed to send me over the edge, his cum filling me up as we just lay there embracing each other, sensual kisses being placed everywhere.

“Hold on where are you going” I asked watching him get up and slowly moan as he pulled out, heading towards my bedside drawer.

“Polaroid”

—————

yeah idk I tried my best 🫡 Hope yall like it

#chris evans #chris evans oneshot #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfiction #romance

[bbangsuns]

ah!love | miguel o'hara

requested?: no, but this man has been on my mind ever since atsv came out and it was only a matter of time before i wrote for him

pairing: miguel o'hara x plus sized!latina!reader

word count: 1.509

warnings: none, just Miguel being the biggest sweetheart for his partner (and only for them). there will be a part 2 with a different song posted after this!

authors note: just something short and sweet for my favorite man <3. based on this song by seventeen, i definitely recommend listening while reading! lyrics will be italicized and in bold. kinda short. for the first set of lyrics, they're from two different verses but I think they fit best with how he'd react to someone unintentionally wiggling their way into his heart

a/n pt. 2: i only used about 2 or 3 lines from the song that I thought matched best with his personality/what a relationship could possibly be like with him. he may be ooc because i haven't seen the movie, i only know a few things based on what i've seen on here, tiktok, and twitter.

taglist: @hydrngea / @withbeautyandrage @eaudenana

if you want to join my taglist, just send me an ask!

checked if i was lying when i thought it was love at first sight

you planted a seed in my dry heart / i'm growing it so don't ignore me

Miguel wasn't someone who believed in love at first sight and if anyone were to ask him about it, he'd audibly laugh in their face before glaring at them and telling them to get their head out of their ass.

that was until you came along and flipped that sentiment on its head. it was a strange feeling for Miguel, especially when he had vowed to never love anyone after the death of his daughter. so when he noticed how his heart would race any time you talked or even smiled in his general direction, he couldn't help but just straight up confront you about it in traditional Miguel fashion.

"what the hell did you do to me?" he asked one day, suddenly appearing in front of you in the cafeteria while you were talking to peter b. parker.

you yelped in surprise which caused you to choke on your food, your spider sense not having alerted you. after about a minute of peter smacking your back and you drinking water, you finally turned to answer him.

"what are you talking about?" you croaked, throat still hoarse from having choked on your fries.

he groaned and grabbed your arm, tugging you along until you reached an empty room in which he pushed you in as gently as possible.

"¿qué me hiciste? por qué siento algo raro cuando estás cerca de mi?*" he asked once more and this time he sounded exasperated, almost desperate to know what was going on with him as if he couldn't figure it out without your help.

"Miguel te lo juro, no sé de qué demonios estás hablando!*" you exclaimed, throwing your hands up in frustration at his repeated questions.

he exhales sharply through his nose, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples before opening them and gazing over at you. he takes a deep breath and attempts to collect his thoughts, opening and closing his mouth multiple times as he tries to figure out the words.

"whenever you're around me...i get this weird feeling in my chest, like my heart is racing at 100 miles per hour and i get dizzy. it's been going on since I met you, i think." he explained slowly, pausing in between as he seemed to choke on his own words.

you stand there stunned for what seems like ages and regret starts to flood Miguel as he realizes this may have been a mistake.

"*sabes qué, esto fue un error. olvídalo, si? no te queria hacer sentir incomoda..*" he muttered, turning to walk out of the small office. you quickly reached for his wrist, moving to stand in front of him. you looked up at him with a wide grin that practically had your face splitting.

"*Miguel, me estás diciendo que te gusto? o tal vez me amas?*" you teased him, but on the inside your heart was beating so fast you could feel it in your ears.

he cleared his throat and looked away from your eyes before slowly nodding, deliberately ignoring how your hand felt against him.

"i think so yeah...and i'd like to explore it further with you if you'd be willing to." he replied quietly, connecting his eyes with yours once more and you could see the insecurities just barely peeking through the surface. your smile softened and you nodded, moving your hand down to interlace your fingers with his.

"i'd like that, too." you said simply, and the way he looked at you when you said it, you knew it was going to make every moment worth it.

i found an oasis beyond the green forest / please let the thirsty me drink your feelings

you and miguel had been together for nearly a year now and had become each other's safe havens, something you were both grateful for especially with all the stress and anxiety that came from your line of work.

today was especially difficult for Miguel; for one, the last mission went badly and a number of spiders ended up injured, including you. apart from that, Pavitr, Gwen, Miles, Hobie, and Lyla had been pushing his buttons more than usual, constantly questioning his authority and making jokes at his expense. normally it wouldn't bother him but with you being injured and the anomaly escaping, he was close to blowing up on everyone.

he decided to walk away from everything for the rest of the day before he said something he'd (maybe) regret and made his way to your shared apartment, his body tense the entire time. as soon as he walked through the door and saw you laying on the couch half asleep, he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and relaxed.

"*¿cómo te sientes, mi amor?*" he asked as he leaned down to kiss the top of your head, eyes scanning your figure for any injuries he may have missed.

"*me siento bien adolorida, pero aparte de eso estoy bien. no te preocupes, corazón.*" you reassured him, kneeling up on the couch and placing a kiss to his lips, a small smile on your lips. as much as he wanted to argue with you and say you were definitely not fine, he couldn't find it in him to do that at the moment.

"what about you, mi amor? you look tense." you observed with a frown, grabbing his hand and tugging him towards you. he allowed his body to drop onto the couch with a sigh, leaning his head back against the headrest.

"*es nada, mi vida. solo estoy cansado.*" he responded weakly, pulling you onto his lap and wrapping his arms around your waist, giving you a small smile.

you narrowed your eyes at him and poked his chest, not satisfied with the vague answer, especially not when you could almost hear the way his pulse jumped when you asked.

"no me mientas, Miguel. we don't keep things from each other, remember?" you scolded him, but there was no real anger in your words. instead it was laced with concern and mild annoyance, which made Miguel grin slightly.

"today was more stressful than usual.. i couldn't stop worrying about you when Jess told me you were hurt. then we got back to HQ and the kids were making fun of me and teasing me more than usual, which I'd normally ignore but I was already pissed off from the botched mission and from the damn anomaly hurting you so I left. I didn't do the debrief after the mission or anything, I really just couldn't stand being in that building anymore." he rambled, frustration and exhaustion creeping into his voice.

you rubbed the crease that had formed between his eyebrows and listened intently to his venting, feeling guilty that you were part of why he had been so stressed out.

"*perdon por preocuparte, cariño,* and i'm sorry the kids were messing with you. but to get your mind off of their little antics, we can eat some dinner, take a bath, and then just lay in bed, yeah?" you suggested, your hand coming up to rest on the side of his face, your thumb gingerly rubbing his cheek.

"yeah, i'd like that a lot." he hummed as he leaned into your touch, closing his eyes.

you grinned and pecked his lips before standing up and grabbing his wrist, doing your best to pull him up on your own. he chuckled at your efforts and stood up, grabbing you and throwing you over his shoulder, making you yelp in surprise.

the first time he had ever done that to you, you were afraid he'd end up hurting himself, especially since you had always been on the heavier side. he had actually laughed at you out of shock and continued doing it, showing off how easily he could pick you up no matter your weight.

he walked you to the bedroom and gently dropped you onto the bed, removing his suit and changing into a simple pair of sweats before laying down next to you, tugging you as close as humanly possible before sighing in content.

"we can eat and shower later, amor. i just want to sleep for now." he whispered, his breath fanning over your neck making you twitch. you turned in his arms and laid your head on his chest, your leg thrown over his waist as you nodded, eyes already feeling heavy.

"yeah okay, get some rest. i love you." you mumbled against him, body relaxing completely as you allowed sleep to overtake you almost immediately.

Miguel felt his pulse quicken at your words, because no matter how many times you had uttered them, it left him dizzy every single time. he just kissed the top of your head, whispering an 'i love you' back even though you couldn't hear him. he fell asleep soon after you did, a small smile on his face as he thought about how lucky he had been to find someone like you, his oasis.

translations:

¿qué me hiciste? por qué siento algo raro cuando estás cerca de mi? = what did you do to me? why do i feel so weird when you're near me?

Miguel, te lo juro, no sé de qué demonios estás hablando!! = i swear i don't know what the hell you're talking about

*sabes qué, esto fue un error. olvídalo, si? no te queria hacer sentir incomoda..* = you know what, this was a mistake. forget it, yeah? i didn't mean to make you uncomfortable

*Miguel, me estás diciendo que te gusto? o tal vez me amas?

¿cómo te sientes, mi amor?*= are you saying you like me? or maybe even love me?

"me siento bien adolorida, pero aparte de eso estoy bien. no te preocupes, corazón." = i feel pretty sore, but besides that i'm okay. don't worry, sweetheart.

"es nada, mi vida. solo estoy cansado." = it's nothing, my life. i'm just tired.

*perdon por preocuparte, cariño,*= i'm sorry for worrying you, darling.

#miguel o’hara ( aria’s version 🕸️ ) #( aria’s version 🕸️) #miguel o’hara #spiderman: across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #marvel imagines #marvel fanfic #spiderman: across the spiderverse imagine #miguel o'hara imagine #oscar issac imagine #oscar issac characters #oscar isaac #spider man 2099 #marvel #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #marvel comics

[babeyvenus]

💫 Venus' Masterlist 💫

About the Author

I'm Venus! Or you can call me Ve!

My page will mainly promote poc! and plus size readers!

• Pronouns: She/her

• 20♎

• I love all my different fandoms, and sometimes I lose track of each╮(. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)╭

• Big book nerd

• Plus size babey

• Gamer/Streamer

• Part time Artist and roleplayer

• INFP Ambiverted (leaning introvert)

• Always down to make friends

• Affectionate giver and receiver

Speaking of, I'm not sure if anyone's told you today, but you look amazing! Hiya!

Content may include violence, heavy language, and triggering mentions.

Viewers discretion is advised

What I will and won't write

Will Write

Romance

Angst

Mild triggering mentions

Smut to a certain extent

Won't write

Adult x Child (Adult/17 and under)

Hateful content

♠️ Angst

☁️ Fluff

🌶️ Smut

With that being said:

Marvel

• Black Panther

Wakanda's Princess ♠️☁️

• Iron Man

That Red Dress (plus size reader) ☁️

• Tasm Peter Parker

A Little Chunk of Hope (NWH Spoilers) ☁️♠️

Venom?// ii☁️♠️

Karma's a Bitch ♠️

Help ♠️

Games

• TLOU

Home (Jesse x Riley! Twin! Reader) ☁️♠️

• Resident Evil

BioAttraction (Chris Redfield x black! bioweapon! Reader) ♠️☁️🌶️

• Persona 5

Ryuji Sakamoto

• TWAU

The Outcasts

Sick! Bigby ☁️

Latina! Reader gives Bigby homemade food ☁️☁️

Mundy! Reader fusses at Snow ☁️

Mundy! Detective! Reader fights Woody and Gren

Bigby denies reader's love P.1//P.2♠️☁️

Hurt! Bigby☁️

Bigby vs the cat☁️

Bigby x insecure! Black reader ♠️☁️

Tv Shows

• Teen Wolf

Derek Hale

My Future ☁️♠️🌶️

Stiles Stilinski

• My Hero Academia

Bakugou Katsuki

Jealous! Reader

Break Up Make up

Dabi

Protective! Tsundere! Dabi

#venus masterlist #babey venus #tasm peter #x black reader #derek hale #teen wolf derek hale #twau bigby #bigby wolf #chris resident evil #resident evil chris #bigby twau #marvel #black panther #t'challa #iron man #tony stark #plus size reader #plus size representation #black girl #black reader #black writers #persona 5 ryuji #tlou joel #tlou ellie #tlou part 2 #the last of us #the last of us 2 #bnha #resident evil village #imagines

[kumezyzo]

The Amazing Venom

Peter 3 x OC

summary.... Peter Parker and Alina (AJ) Brock (Daughter of Eddie Brock) have been best friends for years, since they could remember. She can tell when he's lying or hiding something. He can tell when she's lying or hiding something. And their senior year of highshool is full of secrets and hiding: Peter becomes Spiderman, AJ's dad finds out something more dangerous about Carlton Drake, and the third person to their trio comes back after 8 years.

AJ has to face her emotions that continue to be brought up as she moves on in life. If you love hard, you grieve just as hard. But as she learns the hard way, empathy is not a stage of grief.

content warnings... | unrequited love | fluff | angst | character death (gwen...) | lots of phone call dialogue | absent parents | slow burn |

authors note... AJ is half latina cause i said so 😤 | updates are slow on here. i have a whole schedule on AO3, but i know some people dont like using ao3. i get it. | the writing might be ass up until chapter 11 cause i crammed to get this done by nov. 30 | title is a big wip | also, i would love reader feedback and stuff cause i actually really love this story 😊

-nony

Table Of Contents

I... Eat It!

II... Secret Spaghetti

III... Dads

IV... Vans or Converse

V... Tell me

VI... Raw

VII... Get Up

VIII... AJ BROCKS PHOTOGRAPH DUDE :)

IX... Long Shot

X... Jolene

more chapters coming soon...

if you really wanna be notified every time i post a chapter, and you wanna be added to a taglist, just comment.

also, tell me if there are any mistakes on this, im not looking over it before i post it...

#spider man #peter parker fluff #peter parker #peter 3 #andrew garfield spiderman #spiderman #masterlist #eddie brock #peter parker x oc #angst #fluff

[loverwebs]

NAVIGATION!

I'm glad you could make it! All the information you need can be found below.

Most Recent Story:

Your Lips, My Lips

Bella x Latina!Reader Drabble

Guidelines:

I write for MCU Peter Parker, Bella Ramsey, and Ellie Williams

Requests and messages are always open

Spam likes are fine with me

Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated!

[thecrystalquill]

Lux - Part Two

Peter Parker x Santana!Reader - Diablo’s daughter

Marvel/DC crossover

A/N: hope you’re excited to read part 2! Let me know your thoughts.

A bit of angst but it’s fine. Also reminder that reader is (at least) half Latina(x) - bc of her dad, duh. No physical details but she knows Spanish. (References to her Latin heritage throughout are influenced by my own)

Masterlist       Series Masterlist

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

Part Two ~ Cafe Con Leche and Chocolate Chip Cookies

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

          The soft tunes of her alarm woke (Y/N) slowly, coaxing her out of sleep. The hum of early morning traffic was the next thing she heard, car horns and road rage, just like every other city guaranteed.

          Tapping her alarm off, (Y/N) laid in bed a little longer, letting her eyes adjust as she mentally prepared herself for the day ahead. Today was March 7th, a difficult day for their small family.

          As quietly as she could, (Y/N) for herself ready for school, trying her hardest not to wake her father; he could do with the sleep in. She dressed herself in something dark and comfortable - jeans, cheap converse, and a black sweater. No colours today.

          It was 7am when she made her way to the kitchen, preparing a decent breakfast of bacon, eggs, and toast for the two of them. Hopefully the smell would wake him in a better mood.

          It was a slow start, the radio played at half-volume, noting the weather and traffic for the morning before it began some cozy morning music. “Morning, Mija.”

          “Morning, Dad.” She greeted with a smile, he smiled back, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. She passed him his cafe con leche, which he gratefully accepted, and slid over his plate.

          Neither of them spoke as they ate, sitting in contemplative silence at the dining table in the kitchen. She wouldn’t ask him how he was feeling, what would be the point? She already knew the answer.

          “How’d you sleep?” She asked instead, taking a sip of her coffee

          Chato sighed, leaning to his side to affectionately pat her shoulder. “Okay,” he replied, but neither believed it. “You?”

          “Okay,” she repeated, giving him another sad smile. “You sure you don’t want me to stay home today? I really don’t mind, saves me having to listen to Mr Hall’s daily speeches about whatever’s got him mad today.”

          He shook his head. “No, it’s fine. I’m gonna go to work for a few hours.” She gave him a look, but he gave her the best reassuring smile he could manage. “I’ll be fine. Promise.”

          It was quiet again for a while, both lost in thought, neither wanting to leave. Until (Y/N)’s alarm bleeped - 7.45, time to head to school. She sighed, before standing and collecting her things and throwing on her jacket. “I’ll see you there when I get back, yeah?”

          “Yeah,” her dad nodded, standing to receive her hug. They stayed like that for a minute or two, then he kissed her head as they parted. “Stay safe.”

          “You too,” she said, collecting her keys and heading out the door.

          “Hey, loser, I got you something.”

          (Y/N) looked up from the plate she was poking at with a plastic fork to be met with an ice cream container. “Ice cream?”

          “No,” MJ rolled her eyes as she sat next to her, opening up the tub as if it hid stolen valuables. “Cookies, had some left over last night,” she explained, taking a dramatic whiff and placing the tub between them, lead by a chef’s kiss, “perfection.”

          (Y/N) laughed at her friend’s antics, pushing her half-eaten tray of less-than-satisfying cafeteria food aside and accepting a cookie. “You’re the best.”

          “I know.” She admitted, pulling out her latest read and opening it on the table, giving half of her attention to her friend - which was more than usual, when there was a book in front of her.

          “So,” (Y/N) started as she bit into the double chocolate cookie, “done any more sketches lately?”

          Michelle shrugged. “A couple. Saw a cool pigeon yesterday, did a little watercolour on that.”

          “Cool.”

          Another comfortable silence as they snacked; MJ often said it was one of the best parts about their friendship, that they didn’t need to fill the silence with meaningless small talk; that I’d they had nothing much to say, they simply didn’t. “How you doing?”

          “I’m okay,” (Y/N) replied, playing with the zip on her hoodie. “My dad’s gone into work today, so I’m meeting him there. Hopefully it’ll keep his mind off things—”

          “I was literally only three marks off an A! That’s so unfair.” They heard from beside them, turning to see Ned and Peter sitting a few feet down the table, talking loudly. “I mean, sure, a B plus isn’t bad but still—”

          “Hey, losers,” growled MJ over (Y/N)’s shoulder, keep it down a little, hm?”

          (Y/N) didn’t think it was a big deal, but she knew how protective Michelle could get over her friends (it’s not like she had many). “What was the B for?“ she asked to ease the tension (it was no secret that MJ enjoyed the fear in their eyes under her glare).

          Peter cleared his throat and pulled on the collar of his sweater a little. “Um, Spanish test. I usually do pretty good but, uh… we just learned a bunch of new tenses and… well I-I didn’t have a lot of time to study, so…” He drifted off, taking a bite of his sandwich.

          “I could help you, if you want.” She offered. Oh crap- why did I say that? Now I’ll have to make plans to tutor this stupidly attractive dork - in a Latin language or all things.

          Peter raised his eyebrows. “You would?”

          Shit. “Well… I mean, if you think it’d hell, I mean—”

          “Wait, you don’t even take Spanish.” Ned interrupted, his face scrunched in confusion.

          The three of them stared at him, each giving him their own expression conveying a message somewhere along the lines of ‘are you fucking for real right now?’.

          It took him a minute. “Oh… right. Sorry.”

          “Anyway…” Peter started, sparing Ned the embarrassment, “er, that’d be a big help. I- If you can, though, it’s fine if not. I mean, like, you don’t have to but I… I’d appreciate some help…”

          “You could come over tonight!” Med beamed, barely sparing Peter a glance. “We’re having a movie night, d’you like Star Wars? We’re watching the prequels.”

          (Y/N) wished she could agree - it’s hard to say no to that much excitement. “I… uh… no I can’t tonight. I have plans with my dad. It… it’s my brother and sister’s birthday…” Saved by the bell. She collected her bag as people started to make their way out of the cafeteria.

          “Oh cool,” Ned called as she started to leave, “have fun!”

          “Dude, what’re you doing? Y’can’t just invite her over- she probably doesn’t even like Star Wars!” Peter cursed as they got up.

          “What? It’s called being a wingman. You’re welcome.” He grinned. “And anyway, she’s got plans, so it doesn’t matter—”

          “No, morons.” MJ groaned, punching Ned’s arm, ignoring his protest. “Read the room once in a while, will you?”

          “What are you taking about?” Asked Peter concernedly.

          Michelle sighed, grabbing her bag. “Her siblings are dead.”

Taglist:

• @fandom-strumpet

• @kpopgirlbtssvt

• @j-s-l-m

• @emily2003alzaga

• @slytherinroyalty16

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#peter parker x metahuman!reader #peter parker x mutant!reader #peter parker x dc!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker #chato santana x daughter!reader #chato santana x reader #diablo x daughter!reader #el diablo x reader #marvel x reader #marvel/dc crossover

[whoispiderman]

Oh, hey guys! So maybe the day after tomorrow (???) I publish my first imagines with Tom and the Latina and black Y/n! I want a lot of criticism about the imagines, so that's it! Just remember, my English (for me) is not very good, so that's it!

#tom holland #arvin russell x reader #arvin russell imagine #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland imagines #tom holland blurb #tom holland x you #tom holland x black!reader #mob!tom #peter parker x you #peter parker imagines #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker x black!reader #peter parker x latina!reader #tom holland x latina!reader

[thesameonlywithpeterparker]

weird thought don't judge

giving Peter a blowjob while he hangs upside down by his webs

#peter parker smut #peter parker x black!reader #peter parker x chubby!reader #peter parker x latina!reader #peter parker x mixed!reader #peter parker x plus size reader #peter parker x poc!reader #peter parker x stark!reader

[alolowrites]

Victory on Roosevelt Avenue

I recently got inspired to write some fanfic again and I really wanted to do something with the World Cup and Peter Parker hahaha. This story was just inching to get itself written and I obviously caved in. It is my first story after a few years of not writing so sorry in advance if there are some mistakes. I promise to edit this once I have some free time! I just really wanted to post the story. 

Some key points: The story is written from the reader’s POV (I think I somewhat failed at this, so sorry again) and it is a Mexican!reader (female, sorry if I didn’t make it gender neutral!). The story is a bit AU since I completely ignored anything/everything that has to do with Infinity War (Thanos doesn’t exist, no one disappeared, Earth is safe, yadda yadda yadda). I just needed Peter to be alive for the World Cup okay? I think that’s about it. I hope you all enjoy the story! 

It’s around 10:35am on this fine Sunday morning, but you know why this particular Sunday is extremely special. Not only is it Father’s Day, but today is Mexico’s first match in the 2018 World Cup and the long strip of Roosevelt Avenue in Queens is very much alive and bursting with excitement. Last week, you invited Peter at school if he wanted to join you and your family in watching the upcoming game. Being the good boyfriend he is, Peter gladly agreed (especially since he could never say no to you).    

Yesterday you texted him the station where you two will meet and from there walk to the restaurant together. You were too busy checking your phone that Peter easily sneaks up behind you and plants a surprise kiss on your cheek.

You jump and turn around, but your shoulders relax when you see your lovely boyfriend with his famous brown locks. “Peter! You made it!”

“Did you think I wasn’t going to come? I’m offended,” Peter playful scoffs as he places his left hand over his heart. You roll your eyes, but chuckle before giving him a quick kiss on his lips. “So where are going?”

“To this restaurant called Taqueria Coatzingo. One of the best Mexican restaurants in Jackson Heights!” You explain as you hold his right hand and lead the way down the street. “I told my parents I would meet them there a few minutes before the game starts because I was waiting for you. You’re going to love the food, Peter! The make these incredible classic dishes like carne asada tacos, bistec a la Mexicana, or if you’re feeling quite adventurous: carnitas en salsa verde o roja, but whatever you choose, I promise you it will be a party in your mouth.”

The sixteen year old superhero rubs his stomach. “That all sounds delicious. Maybe I’ll take some food back for Aunt May. I’m sure she would love it.”

As you chattered away about the World Cup, Peter’s eyes glances around the vibrant avenue and is overwhelm over the happy chaos he sees. There were fans wearing bold, colorful outfits that embodied the Mexican flag. Some had luchador masks over their faces, others sporting large sombreros with comfortable ponchos. Peter even notices a man dressed up in a costume full of feathers with the face of an eagle perched on his head.

He turns his attention to you and sees the Mexican jersey you were proudly wearing. Peter then looks at himself and realizes how underdressed he felt: a boring blue button up shirt and denim jeans. He purses his lips and chastises himself for not putting more effort. He could have at least worn something green or red.

He feels so out of place.

Peter soon calls your name, interrupting your talk, and you hum while looking at him. Your eyes narrow as his face grows uncomfortable and his gaze falls to the ground. You also feel his hand tighten around its hold and realize something was wrong with him.

“Are you okay, Peter?”

His head snaps back up and begins to furiously nod. “Oh-h, yeah! I’m fine! Really!”

“Peter…I know when you’re lying,” you scold at him and gently tug his right hand. You stop walking and stand in front of him without losing your grip. Your other hand reaches out to caress his smooth, pale cheek and you brush a few of his curls away from his forehead. Peter sighs at your therapeutic touches, but he remains stressed. You place one finger underneath his chin and raise it so you were staring directly into his chocolatey, doe-like, eyes.

“What’s the matter? I know something is bothering you.”

“I’m just nervous,” he mumbles and you tilt your head in confusion. Peter glances behind your shoulder, the sea of green shirts waving in the distance. His ears pick up the boastful chants coming from the massive crowd and the Mexican music booming from nearby speakers.

“What do you mean?”

His eyes return their attention to you. “I honestly don’t know too much about the World Cup, and I am afraid I might say or do something so stupid that could end up offending your people. Plus, I’m not even dressed properly and it makes me stick out like a sore thumb. I could have at least worn the colors of your flag, but I guess I forgot. Besides: it’s Father’s Day! I feel like I’m intruding on this special day for you and your family!”

You quickly blink and laugh heartily, gripping his left shoulder. “Oh, Peter! Is that what you’re really worried about? If I’m being honest, I don’t follow too much about soccer except for the World Cup games. No matter how many times my dad or uncles try to explain the technicalities of the game, I still end up being confused.

“As for Father’s Day,” you continue, giving Peter’s hand a soft squeeze, “it’s no big deal that you’re here. My mom and dad are more than happy enough to welcome you into our festivities! If anything, they asked me to invite you because they know you’re a good person who makes me happy.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. You have nothing to worry about, trust me,” you reassure him with a brief peck on his lips. Peter smiles softly as he bends his head down to kiss you again. You close the space and snake your arms around neck as his own circles on your waist. The wolf-whistles from across the street break the romantic moment and you pull yourself away from Peter to annoyingly wave off the bystanders laughing. A chuckle rumbles through your chest as you see Peter’s face beat red. “Ignore them, they’re probably drunk already.”

“But it’s almost eleven!”

You raise an eyebrow. “Like that will stop them from not drinking their beer.”

Both of you share a laugh and you pat his bicep. “Listen, if you are still worried about saying something ‘wrong,’” you air-quote the last word with your fingers, “then let me just give you some advice. Number one: if you can, use the word fútbol instead of soccer in your conversation. You’ll get brownie points and earn a level of respect from a few fans in the crowd, but if ‘soccer’ slips from your lips, it’s fine. You’ll probably get a pass because, well,” you lower your voice to a whisper, “you’re white.”

Peter shrugs in understanding and you hold up two fingers. “Number two: when watching the game, don’t sweat if you’re lost. A lot happens within two 45-minute matches and if the game is extremely intense, like this one that we’re about to watch, then the excitement level from the crowd exponentially goes up. For your sake, just cheer loudly with everyone else when Mexico scores a goal. Can’t go wrong celebrating a goal for the Mexican team!”

You hold up three fingers. “Lastly, just relax and have fun. Don’t worry about not wearing the Mexican colors. Just being here shows support and earns a stamp of approval from my people. One of the things that I love most about the World Cup is that it is a sport that is universal. No matter what country you’re from, what language you speak or what color your skin is—everyone can sit and watch the games together which creates a sense of global connectedness.”  

“Wow,” Peter breaths out in astonishment and you giggle at his reaction. “Now I’m kinda embarrassed to not really appreciate the World Cup before. But I feel much better now.”

“Good,” you happily beam and gave a quick kiss on his lips again. “Now lets head to the restaurant before the game starts. I don’t want to miss a second of this match!”

The two of you run down the street and enter the lively restaurant overflowing with hundreds of fans. And true to your word, Peter relishes every single minute of the game. When Mexico scores their first goal, the whole place erupts in jubilation. You jump from your seat and tightly hug Peter, almost knocking him off his chair. He’s never seen you so emotionally invested before: cheering and clapping hard when a Mexican player runs across the field to make a goal or cursing and raising your hands in the air in exasperation when something horrible happens. The atmosphere of the restaurant certainly fuels how the crowd behaves and he found himself anxiously clutching his cup a few times throughout the game.

Once the final whistle blows through the speakers, officially ending the match, Peter swears he feels the ground shake as hundreds of people start celebrating the team’s historic victory. Basking in the euphoria after Mexico’s glorious win against the reigning champions, Germany, you tell Peter you were going to get some more water from the counter. He nods and, while grinning, starts to record a video of some Mexican fans singing Cielito Lindo at the top of their lungs. As you make your way back to your table, you notice your uncle gleefully pat Peter’s shoulders, but then the smirk on your face falls as you see the older man shove a certain drink into your boyfriend’s hand…  

“Oh my gosh, Tío!” You scream over the chants. “No le das una Corona a Peter! Él es menor de edad!”

Translation: “No le das una Corona a Peter! Él es menor de edad!” / “Don’t give Peter a Corona! He is underaged!” 

#Peter Parker #Peter Parker x you #Peter Parker x reader #Peter Parker x Latina!reader #Peter Parker x Mexican!reader #Spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #spiderman #spider-man: homecoming #Marvel #Marvel MCU #Avengers #world cup #mexican #Peter Parker fluff #first story #first post #spiderman peter parker #peter parker oneshot #peter parker reader insert #Mexico #marvel au