#spiderman x OC

[guilty-pleasures21]

Maybe this will just be my trash one.

2. Um, getting closer?

Part 1 - the divorce

Warnings: Brief mentions of cheating and rape.

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     She was sat at the kitchen island, typing away on the new laptop Miguel had gotten her when he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. 

     “Querida,” he began softly, bending over to rest his head on her shoulder. “¿Qué tal, cariño? (What's up, sweetheart?)”

     She startled at his sudden appearance, then curled into herself as the woodsy, spicy scent of him took over all her thoughts. “Oh! Uh … I’m just … I’m researching protocols.”

     Mierda, she was cute when she was flustered. He raised his head to nip at her earlobe, chuckling when she flinched in response, then he  began trailing his lips down the side of her neck. “Mmm, querida.” 

     A shiver ran down her spine at the feeling of his low voice rumbling against her neck. The only complaint she could think to have was the way he kept touching her: tender, appreciative, driving her mad with every brush and stroke. “Did you … want something, Miguel?”

     “Just you.” He grinned and cuddled her against him, delighting in the way she squirmed in his arms as she tried to control her body’s natural response to him. 

     “Miguel …” she whined, hunching over to try to minimise contact with him. Miguel sighed and moved his hands to her waist as he straightened. He gave her a final squeeze, then sank into the seat beside her. 

     “Have you had lunch yet?” he asked. X nodded as she swivelled around to face him.

     “Yup! Have you?” He hadn’t been in the house when she’d woken up and the only answer she’d received from Penni had been ‘business’. She hadn’t wanted to know more about what ‘business’ entailed, so she’d left the matter alone and decided to try out the swimming pool instead. 

     He reached out to twirl a strand of her damp hair around his finger, then he leaned forward to tuck it behind her ear. “Yeah. What did you have, preciosa?”

     He leaned back in his seat and rested his elbow on the table, spreading his legs wide as he propped his head up on his fist. She did her best not to let her eyes trail down his broad chest or linger on his muscled thighs. But holy shit, he was hot! “Uh, Paula made some carbonara for me. What did you have for lunch?” 

     “Lasagne.” He’d told his housekeeper to make his cute little scientist anything she asked for. He was only sorry that he hadn’t been able to join her. But he’d had to take care of his associates now that that scumbag Francesco wasn’t going to be interfering with their activities any longer. “Have you started packing?” 

     “It’s not like I have much to pack, Miguel,” she pointed out, her tone more familiar now that they’d spent a little more time together. He’d told her last night that they’d be leaving for America soon - his home base where he’d be able to give her all the resources she needed for her research. She’d been nervous at first - unsure about how his feelings towards her might change once he was back in the big city. But then he’d brushed his fingers along her waist and asked her if there was anyone she wanted to see before they left. She hadn’t made many friends, what with the way her entire reputation had been destroyed and her husband had kept her sequestered in the countryside. But her sister had moved to the UK last year for university … 

     Miguel grinned at the slight exasperation on her features, then leaned forward to place a hand on her thigh. 

     “No te preocupes, querida (Don't worry, darling),” he reassured her cheekily. “I’ll get you all the Burberry trench coats and Bvlgari necklaces your closet can fit once we get to New York.” 

     She pulled her gaze away from his, turning her head to the side and trying hard to not think about the way his large fingers wrapped around her thigh. Miguel felt his chest warm at the sight of the smile she was attempting to hide from him. But there was one other matter he still needed to settle. “Querida. We should probably settle your divorce before you leave.”

     Oh right. That. X tapped her fingers on the countertop, trying to figure out where to start. “How … Do I need to go to court or …”

     “I’ll get Matt to handle it,” Miguel interjected quickly, brushing her thigh with his thumb. “You just need to sign the papers once they’re done.” He leaned back in his seat, finally releasing his hold on her, and X felt some of the tension leave her body. 

     “Yup!” she chirped enthusiastically. “You got it!” Miguel smiled at her and she felt her stomach flip at the sight. She squashed the feeling down quickly and returned her attention to her laptop, still afraid to believe that her life could have changed for the better, for once. 

     Gwen glanced at her partner standing on the other side of the metal door. They’d followed the address of the man who’d rented the cars on Miguel’s behalf - he’d used a fake name, of course, but an address was much more difficult to fake. So that was how they’d ended up here: outside of a seemingly abandoned warehouse in a sketchy, isolated part of town they likely had no business being in. Miles nodded, one hand on his holster, then burst into the warehouse. 

     “Freeze! Police!” He held his gun out in front of him as he looked around, expecting some sort of drug packaging setup. But there was nothing. Well, nothing except for the single plastic chair in the middle of the cavernous hall. Miles twisted his head around to glance back at his partner in question. Gwen signalled for him to continue and Miles turned back to the chair to walk cautiously over to it. 

     She kept her eyes trained on their surroundings, guarding her partner’s back as he picked up whatever was on the chair. Her curiosity grew as he took a moment to study it. Then he swore and stomped his foot on the ground in frustration. “Shit!” 

     Gwen lowered her gun and went over to him, wanting to find out the reason behind Miles’s irritation. “What? What did you find?”

     He sighed and turned around, holding out the objects he’d found: a gleaming golden ring and a lazily scrawled out note. Gwen raised an eyebrow as she took the piece of paper from him. ‘Tell Mr Lombardi his wife sends her regards.’

     “Shit!” Gwen exclaimed, crumpling the note in her hand. “Argh! What are we gonna do now?!” 

     Miles rubbed his hand over his face, at a loss himself as to what their move should be. Then his phone rang with a call from Pav. 

     “Please tell me you have good news,” Miles begged him after picking up the call. 

     “I have good news!” Pav confirmed. “I’ve been going through the list of private airstrips around the area and I think I found his plane.” 

     Miles put the phone on speaker so Gwen could hear as well. “Great! Where is it?” 

     “Uh, on the way to London.” 

     “What?!” Miles exchanged a wide-eyed look with Gwen. 

     “Yes. Our guess is that they’re going to visit X’s sister,” Pav explained, the sound of his keyboard echoing over the phone. “We’ve booked you and Gwen a flight there and it leaves in … two hours. You need to get to X’s sister before they do.”

     “Two hours?!” Gwen repeated incredulously. 

     “Yup. Better get going if you want to catch that plane,” Pav warned them. Then he hung up. Gwen looked up at Miles, horrified, then the two of them rushed back to their car to make their way over to the airport. 

     He threw the stack of papers down on Francesco’s desk before taking a seat across from him, his posture lazy and unbothered. “Your signature, if you will, Mr Lombardi.” 

     Francesco begrudgingly picked up the papers and flipped through them, seething at what he found inside. “What are these?” 

     “Divorce papers,” Miguel replied as if it should have been obvious. “From your wife.” 

     Francesco stood up, pushing his seat back in anger. “What have you done with her?! Where is she?! Bring her back!”

     Miguel slung an arm over the back of his chair, unbothered by Francesco’s threatening tone. He’d already sent X off to London to meet with her sister before they left for America. Aside from throwing those pesky DEA agents off his tail, it also gave him some time to settle her divorce for her. But mierda, it felt strange, going back to his empty house after having come home to her everyday for the past two weeks. 

     “She’s safe,” Miguel assured Francesco, giving him an unimpressed scoff. “Safer with me than she ever was with you.” 

     Francesco leaned forward over the table, making sure to enunciate his words so the other man would understand him. “She is my wife! Bring her back to me!” 

     Ben stepped forward, ready to intervene as he sensed the rage threatening to overflow from Francesco. But Miguel raised a hand to stop him. He rested his elbows on the table instead, pressing his fingertips together as he considered Francesco. “You didn’t seem to care about that when you were getting your cock sucked by your assistant two nights ago.” 

     Francesco’s face turned red with anger at the declaration, but he controlled himself at the revelation that Miguel had him under surveillance. 

     He leaned back in his seat, his lips curling with the hint of a smirk at Francesco’s submission. Then he gestured to the papers on the desk, waiting. 

     “Listen here, you cocky bast*rd.” Francesco wagged a finger at him in warning. “I’m not the one who kidnapped her and then f*cking r*ped her in her own house! Who the f*ck are you to tell me to divorce my f*cking wife?!” Miguel felt his insides heat up at Francesco’s vile accusation and he found himself having to take a deep breath before he responded. 

     “‘R*pe’ is non-consensual, Mr Lombardi,” he explained, maintaining a cool tone. “And I don’t remember you wife having any objections when I was f*cking her on your kitchen island.” His lips twitched in anticipation of the outburst he knew was going to follow. He wasn’t disappointed. 

     “You motherf*cker!” Francesco screamed at him, searching for something he could throw at the larger man. “Son of a b*tch!” Miguel’s shoulders shook with an amused snicker. 

     “I don’t remember her having any children either,” Miguel joked. He tilted his head to the side then, as if he was thinking about it. “But … I could fix that. If that’s what she wants, of course.” 

     Francesco hurled a slew of curses and swears at Miguel, adding his fist onto the end of his words. But Miguel caught his hand before it could make contact. He twisted Francesco’s arm as he stood up, causing him to screech with pain. Then he let him go, allowing him to caress his wounded arm - he’d break it after he got him to sign the divorce papers. 

     “I’m not the one who told your wife to get a divorce, Mr Lombardi,” Miguel spat out through gritted teeth. “She decided that all on her own. Maybe if you took two f*cking seconds to talk to her, you’d realise how intelligent she is!”

     Francesco ground his teeth together and lowered his gaze, humiliated. But not humiliated enough, apparently. “I’ll only sign them if you’ll let me see her - if you can prove to me that she’s safe.”

     Miguel sighed and pulled his phone out of his pocket to dial her number. 

     “Querida,” he greeted her once her sweet little face popped up on his screen. Dios, he missed her. But he’d only known her for two weeks, how could he miss her when he’d only known her for two weeks? He swallowed down the pain that throbbed in his chest at the sight of her. “Your husband wants me to prove that you’re safe.” 

     He slid his gaze over to Francesco, his expression disgusted. Then he angled his phone towards him. 

     “Mia cara?” Francesco asked, his features softening as his gaze landed on her. “Where are you? What has he done with you?” 

     “I’m fine,” X replied, her voice flat. She sighed, suddenly exhausted as all the hurt and grief finally washed over her all at once. “What do you want, Francesco?” 

     “I want you, mia cara. Please. Come back to me?” He pursed his lips, his expression vulnerable as he pleaded with her. Miguel looked away so he wouldn’t scoff at the pitiful expression on his face. 

     She lowered her head, wanting to hide the tears starting to form on the edges of his eyes. It wasn’t that she missed him, definitely not. It was just that she’d suddenly been reminded of all the time she’d spent on him - all the months she’d given up to him - just for it to have meant absolutely nothing to either of them. “Just … leave me alone, Francesco. Just sign the damn papers and leave me alone.”

     Miguel’s heart squeezed at the way her voice cracked. He’d break much more than just Francesco’s arm once he’d gotten what he came for. He turned the phone back to himself, wanting to shield his sweet arañita from the man who’d caused her so much pain. “You’ve seen her. Now sign them.”

     The muscles in Francesco’s jaw feathered as he tried to figure a way out of his situation. But why was he so fussed about his wife wanting to divorce him? What did he care if she’d decided she wanted to leave him forever? He grabbed a pen from his stand, ready to sign the papers. But he hesitated when he saw the empty line on the page. He lifted his gaze to Miguel’s. “I want my papers back.”

     Miguel raised an eyebrow, amused: how the hell did this pathetic excuse of a man think he was in any position to negotiate? Lawyers. He held a hand out and Matt stepped forward to hand him the bank accounts Francesco was requesting for. The man practically leaped across his desk to grab them from Miguel, eagerly flipping through the stack to make sure everything was there. He picked up his pen again and scrawled his signature at the bottom of the divorce papers before pushing them back to Miguel. Miguel huffed at his desperation and stood up, giving Matt a nod before he walked out the door. Matt pulled out another stack of papers from his bag and set them on the desk in front of Francesco. “Here is our other set of copies. We’ll be seeing you around, Mr Lombardi.” 

     He flashed Francesco a knowing smile, then left him alone in his office, wife-less and credit-less.

Tags: @heubstr @zayai @amberbalcom14

#miguel x reader #miguel fanfic #miguel x oc #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #miguel smut #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x spiderwoman!reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #mafia boss miguel #mafia au #spiderman x reader #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman smut #spiderman 2099 fanfiction #spiderman 2099 smut #spiderman 2099 x y/n #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x you #spiderman x oc

[vrisrezis]

Atsv characters realizing they’re in love with you

Gwens on the verge of tears, it’s the first time you’ve ever seen her like this in all the time you’ve known her. You’ve known gwen for almost your entire life, and never once have you ever seen her in such a state of affairs.

You suppose it’s reasonable, she lost Peter and she thinks she lost her father forever, the only other people she ever had. And then there’s you. Somebody she felt such deep emotions for even if she was unaware how deep they ran.

There’s so many emotions and so many thoughts running through her head, when she sees you for the first time in what feels like years.

You don’t say anything.

You stare at her, the state she’s in.

Your movements are slow and meticulous, calculated. And she wonders if you’re doing that because you’re cautious, because you’re scared of her.

“I don’t know what dad told you.” fear drips from her vocal cords, “but I promise you,” she’s desperate, wanting your touch so badly but fearing you truly saw her as a monster too, “I would never, ever, kill Peter.”

the building you’re both on, feels so much darker than it really is. It feels like she’s revealing herself to her dad for the first time all over again. She wants to cave in on herself but she fights every need to push you away because she needs you in her life.

“And believe me, I wanted to tell you! I did! I really did!” she tries desperately to explain, finally letting a tear slip out.

As soon as she let one go, it became a waterfall of tears.

“I love you.” she says, voice barely above a whisper, taking you both by surprise.

She realizes what she said, but she doesn’t dwell on it for much longer. Because she realizes, finally, what she said was true.

And now that she finally knows what it is she’s truly been feeling for you all these years, it hurts even more to look at you and not know what you could possibly think about her. She wishes she knew what was going through your head, she wishes she could just tell what you were feeling by searching your face but she just can’t find anything. She doesn’t know what you make of this. She doesn’t know if she’s going to lose you today.

“Please.” she feels her lips wobble, she knows she’s going to completely break down if you don’t say something, anything, in the next minute.

All she’s met with is more silence.

Miles knew he had a crush on you, sure. That simply made sense, it was common knowledge to anyone that wasn’t an idiot. Well, except you. But miles didn’t think you were an idiot, just maybe oblivious. It’s not like he minded, he was grateful that he liked the one, singular person in this very world that was oblivious enough to not catch onto Miles’s adoration for you.

Miles talked about you a lot, admittedly. His parents were naturally happy he had found an actual friend that wasn’t away, that wasn’t ganke, and that clearly made him so happy. In fact, Rio mentions how she’s never seen her son so happy to talk about somebody. She had teased him a few times, and although miles tried to deny it, both her and Jeff knew he liked you a little bit more than a friend should. Though, a little bit is a stretch. He liked you a LOT more than a friend should.

And man, when you finally met them. Ohhh boy.

Miles had tried to prevent it for so long, in fear his parents would embarrass him, even worse if they didn’t like you. But he had been delaying the inevitable long enough, and the time had finally came.

In the past, Rio had teased him about being in love. Of course, miles denied the fact. He had a crush sure, but love? That’s a lot, isn’t it?

But seeing you interact with his parents, getting along with them so well. Even with his dad?

He just can’t stop staring, and while normally Rio would be concerned, she simply walks over to her son with a knowing smile.

“I think Im in love.”

“I know, mijo”

Hobie had a rough day, to say the least. Being spiderpunk, spiderman, was tough. And as much as he complained about it, he was perfectly content with the way he went on living. Especially since it had given him the power to protect you, and fight for his beliefs.

But regardless it was sometimes a painful experience, being spiderman. The gash on his side wasn’t too huge, but was deep enough to cause him pain anytime he walked. Swinging around wasn’t much better.

He decided to swing by your place, since it was closer to him and while he hated the idea of bothering you while he was in this state, hated the idea of worrying you, he knew it was the best option if he wanted to get back to fighting as quick and as painless as possible.

He lets himself in through the window, as always. He walks over to your hunched over form at your desk, peeking over. “Biochem?” he asked aloud, and you, unbothered, simply nod. “Yknow you should really start locking the window sweets.” he says with a grin, and while you’d normally be annoyed by his remarks, you notice a strain in his voice that makes you look up at him.

You’re quick to stand up, “hobie! Jesus what happened to you!?” you said, ushering him into your bathroom so that you can get your first aid kit.

He sits down on the toilet, before shrugging. “Stuff..”

you’ve fixed him up before, but this was a little different. There was a change in your demeanor. It wasn’t out of this world for you to worry for him, but this felt vastly different this time around.

You were so kind, so gentle with him.

In his mind, he’s undeserving.

The warmth of your hands on him, was the only thing he could think about. Not even the pain of literally being stabbed could compare to how electrifying your touch felt.

Perhaps it was the blue led lighting in your bathroom or the loss of blood but, you looked so beautiful right now.

“I think I love you.” he whispers quietly, staring into your eyes.

Staring back, you can’t help but think you love this idiot too.

Pavitr is an idiot when it comes to romance, whether he likes to act like he’s good at it or not. He is not as smooth as he pretends to be. He realizes this anytime he tries to shoot his shot at you. He fumbles with his words and has to come up with some excuse as to why he needs to leave in that exact moment, immediately. Even pretending to flirt with his best friend, gayatri, doesn’t work. He does it so well with her, but when it comes to you he just cannot articulate his words. He finds himself totally lost.

It doesn’t take an idiot to figure out his feelings for you are strong, and that his feelings go deeper beyond friendship. You seem to be the only moron in all of mumbattan that hasn’t noticed, and he’s not sure if he’s grateful or in great agony.

One of the biggest reasons he was so obvious about how he liked you, was shown through how clingy he was. Physical affection is his love language, after all. But it goes beyond that, he always finds himself wanting to spend time with you. He even insists on walking you home even when his house is in the opposite direction, his excuse being that he wants you to get home safely despite being in broad daylight. It’s still a dangerous world out there, is his reasoning.

But it’s been so long since he last walked you home. When you were kids, he did it all the time. As you grew older, the tradition seemed to stick but as he became spiderman this occurrence became less frequent. It’s been months since he’s been able to do this.

The sun is bright, but it hits your face perfectly. And he can’t help but think you look like some ethereal god. Given his line of work, he doesn’t think it would be that weird if you were one.

He feels like he can’t breathe, and he doesn’t even realize its cause he’s way too focused on you, every little feature. Your hair, eyes, your nose, cheeks, mouth. Anything he could possibly look at on your face, he’s looking. He’s not listening to a word you’re saying, he watches your lips move but he cannot catch a damn thing. The grip he has on his bookbag becomes tighter, his face feels hot and he wants to say it’s because of the sun but he knows that’s not true. God, has your laugh always been so pleasant to the human ears? Or was that just him?

His lips move, before he even has a chance to stop the words from coming out, like word vomit.

“God I love you”

#pavitr x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x you #miles morales x reader #gwen stacy x reader #gwen x reader #spiderwoman x reader #spidergwen x reader #spiderman india x reader #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x reader #spiderman x oc #spiderpunk x reader #hobie x reader #hobie x y/n #hobie brown x reader #atsv x y/n #atsv x you #atsv x reader

[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

[platonic-tony-stark]

Y/n: Great now my asshole hurts aswell

Tony: excuse me?!

Peter: Mr stark?!

Tony: you two had sex?

Y/n: nah his cooking gave me diarrhea plus bladder infection

Peter: Dude don't tell him that

#marvel #tony stark #best friends #stark #tony #tonystark #tony stark imagine #tony stark x reader #iron man x reader #iron man imagine #dad tony stark #iron man incorrect quotes #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peterparker #peter parker #spiderman x stark!reader #spiderman x you #spiderman x reader #spiderman x oc #spiderman #mcu x you #mcu imagine #mcufam #mcu memes #incorrect mcu quotes

[cannedmuffins]

Wanting to make an oc to ship with Miguel I also decided he needed a Black Cat in his own universe.

(Also there’s layers of shipping involved in this because Spider-Man x Black Cat is one of my fav ships with Peter and the Batman/Catwoman like dynamic is just 🤌)

#do not tell me about edge of time #i know there was a black cat clone in 2099 in that game #cannedmuffins #oc #my art #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel x oc #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o hara x oc #spiderman x black cat #black cat #spiderverse oc #spiderverse #spider man #spiderman x oc

[spider-man-199999]

Pacifier pt2

pairing: Peter Parker x Fem!Reader;

word count: 7,5 k

part1! part3!

warnings: 18+; smut; drug abuse; mentions of sex; p in v; unprotected sex; Peter is younger than the reader, but still 18. Reader is around 20. Peter is trying to pin reader even though he is younger; Switch Peter;

summary: In this one you’re hired as Morgan’s babysitter (and low-key underpaid Stark!assistant). Looking after a little girl isn’t too hard, but looking after her “big bother” as well, definitely is.

an: I'm scared of writing smut but i did it; also I wanted sitcom vibes! It's a long one.

You didn’t end up actually doing the things you did in your dreams that night. You were too drunk to explain exactly what you wanted, and he felt like he was taking advantage of you. So, after a long and heated make out session, plus a tantrum from you, he carried you to your bedroom and put you to bed before anything actually happened between the two of you. 

You woke up from a wet dream about Peter again. It seemed like they were getting more and more frequent.  The entire thing began with you two kissing on the couch, you told him you wanted to do it, he carried to your bedroom and you did it. You looked around your bedroom, there was no Peter around. You had your clothes on. Great, it was just a dream. You stared at the ceiling. Your head felt like it was about to burst open from the hangover. 

“That felt so real.” you whispered to yourself, closing your eyes and ran a finger over your lips, recalling the kiss from the beginning of the dream. 

It was time to get up. All this party business had to end at some point and that point was in 5 days from now. Getting back to your routine was going to be hard if you kept this act up. So, you took a shower, changed your clothes and prayed there was something in this house that was going to cure your hangover. First thing's first - water. You felt like you could down a gallon. Drinking last night really took a toll on you this time. You walked into the kitchen and as soon as you did, the smell of burned eggs hit you and made you stop in your tracks like you had hit a wall. 

“Wow, what’s going on here?” You asked, waving your hand in front of your face to get rid of the smoke. 

“Hi! Good morning! I wanted to make some breakfast for my fake-but-not-so-fake girlfriend!” Peter said cheerfully when he saw you were there, turning towards you with the pan and wooden spatula in his hands. He was trying to make eggs, and failing miserably. Peter was still in his pajamas, his hair was everywhere. Seemed like the boy woke up and was practically on a mission to make breakfast as soon as he was awake.

“First of all, shhhh.” You shushed him, sitting down on a chair by the kitchen island, placing a hand on your forehead. “Second of all, I’m your nanny, not your… whatever you mentioned a few seconds ago.” 

He stared at you confused but went on with scrambling the eggs. 

“That’s weird, definitely not what you were saying or doing last night”.

You looked up at him. If your eyes could shoot lasers, they would. You would have absolutely killed him on the spot because of what he said. 

“What am I missing about last night?” 

“Missing? Wait, so you don’t remember us…” he stopped, turning to look at your face. He gulped when he saw the anger in your expression.

“Us doing what, Parker?”

“Well… you were pretty drunk.” He started, turning his back to you again. “And um, I drove us here.” 

“Go on.” 

“Well, we sat on the couch.” He said, taking a plate and placing it in front of you, still avoiding eye contact.

“Aha and then what?” You asked, starting to get worried. That sounded exactly like your dream.

“Um, we… I mean you… I didn’t want to take advantage of you in any way, but you kind of just did it, and you know how I feel about you so…” 

“I did what exactly?” 

“You kissed me. And I kinda kissed you back because I really like you, you know that.” 

The two of you stood in silence for a few seconds. He was too terrified of looking at you, you were too shocked and upset to even say anything.

“And what did we do after that?” You asked after a few seconds.

“Hmm, well, you kept saying things about your dreams of me and how I should do what I do in them.  And you were kissing my neck and… you gave me this.” He pulled the collar of his t-shirt down, revealing a hickey on his collarbone. “I really didn’t get the dream part, you were very much insisting on “doing the thing” but I’m not sure what “the thing” was and you wouldn’t really specify. It's not the first time you mention things about dreams, what's actually up with that? And then I had to pick up up and take you to-“ 

“I’ve heard enough.” You cut him off, standing up from your chair. He finally looked at you and you were staring back at him, which made him blush. 

You didn't know how you were supposed to feel about all of this. So the whole thing wasn't a dream? It was just a memory? You were silently freaking out on the inside. 

"Please tell me you used protection." You said after you got up from your spot.

His eyes shot up at you, confusion written all over his face. 

"Protection?Oh... OH-" he started, waving his hands in front of his chest "We did not do that! I would never! You were so drunk! No, no, no, we didn't do it." 

It finally felt like you could breathe again. So, it was a dream after all, or at least part of it. 

"Thank god!" you said, sitting back down and grabbing a water bottle that was conveniently already on the island. ''I'm so not prepared to go to jail for pedophilia!"

----

Another night, another party. This time you were determined to not let any alcohol inside your system. Last time you drank led to almost hooking up  with Peter and you were definitely not letting that happen again. This time you didn't allow him to come with you to the basement party. You knew there ware going to be a lot of drugs and what kind of babysitter would you be if you exposed him to that? No way in hell that was happening. Plus, it was sunday night already, he had school the next morning. One more reason not to bring him here. And of course, the most obvious being that you didn't want to spend more time with him than necessary, because your suppressed feelings for him kept slipping out. 

"Y/N" Lidia called and waved at you from the other side of the room. 

You were standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking around. You smiled once she got your attention, squeezing through the crowd to get to her. The smell of weed was suffocating and the room was already foggy from the smoke. You sat down on a poof next to your friend, tightening your ponytail. 

"Where's Peter?" she asked

"I would have appreciated a "hey, how are you?'' before Peter was brought up but okay." you rolled your eyes, making her laugh. "He's at home, not exposing his underage ass to alcohol and drugs. I mean his home, not mine." 

"Underage?"

"Yeah, he's an intern, he's 18. He's been building legos all afternoon, which makes him mentally 12."

She made an "oh" sound and nodded her head, taking a cigarette from the table and lighting it. 

"He seems nice, mature, he was really worried about you when you got lost last time." she said after taking a drag from the cigarette. 

"We broke up. Do you mind not talking about him tonight?" you asked her.

She passed you the cigarette. You took it reluctantly, you had promised yourself not drinking tonight, getting high had an unclear status. Suddenly the cigarette with Lidia's lipstick on the filter was between your lips, and the smoke was in your lungs. 

"Okay, I won't talk about him." she said, taking the cigarette back from you. "Just one question. How would you feel about linking me up with him? Nothing serious, I don't want to be his girlfriend or anything. Building legos all afternoon sounds kind of fun."

You thought about it for a second. If you said no to this, you would be admitting you actually had feelings for him. If you said yes, you were risking him developing feelings for her and forgetting about you. Both of those sounded really bad for you. But somehow, giving her the number was the most logical, most convenient way to force yourself to move on from this circus show you were currently stuck in. If they did end up having a thing, you wouldn't have to worry about him flirting with you, you wouldn't have to worry about cracking under the pressure and giving in. After thinking about it for a minute, you finally pulled out your phone and gave it to Lidia. She happily took it and put Peter's number in her own. 

----

High you was nothing like drunk you. The drunk version of you didn't really know what was going on around her, couldn't control her reactions or her actions. High you, however, was very aware of her surroundings, but hyperactive and happy. You were running around and talking to everyone like a dog that had the zoomies. Lidia and Peter had been texting throughout the night, by which you were pretending to not be bothered. But when he showed up at the top of the stairs in the middle of the night, you felt like you were hallucinating. Was the weed that hard really? No way you would start hallucinating. Soft giggles escaped your lips as you watched him walk down the stairs.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, holding back laughter once you met him at the bottom. 

"Wow, actually here to pick you up." he said, seeing the state you were in.

"Nah" you said, shaking your head and fixing the collar on his flannel. "You're here to flirt with Lidia, go." you said and pushed him into the room, sending him off.

He made a few large steps forward because of your force but stopped and turned to face you. 

"No, really, she said you got the zoomies and needed to go home. That's why I came, to pick you up."

You looked up at him, laughing softly.  Like you were going to believe that kind of nonsense. Sure, Lidia was your friend, but she was the one who asked you if you were okay with the idea of her hooking up with him. No way in hell she texted him just because she thought you needed to go home. Maybe it was a tactic to lure him in here? You looked around, making a step closer to him. You grabbed the sides of his open flannel while looking around the room, Lidia and some of her girlfriends were standing by the bar, having drinks. They were all looking over at the two of you, whispering something to each other. Was Lidia really going to turn into the anime villain? The only friend you had?

"You okay?" Peter asked you, placing a hand on the small of your back to grab your attention. 

"I need some air" you said, taking his free hand in yours and turning towards the stairs. "And your phone." 

"My phone? Why would you need that?" He asked, following you up the stairs. 

He gave you his phone, and stood by you while you read through the chat between him and Lidia. There was no one in the yard besides the two of you, which eased your nerves at least a little bit. She was most definitely flirting with him in those chats and he looked too oblivious in his replies. She had invited him over a few times and he had declined all of them. So, it really was a cruel plot to bring him to the party after all? You shoved the phone in his chest, startling him, before walking off somewhere. He gathered himself, running after you.

"Hey, hey, care to explain what's going on?" he grabbed your elbow, stopping you. You turned around to look at him. He seemed worried, tired and confused, which was his usual state around you. You looked around again, relaxing your shoulders once you were sure it was just the two of you there.

"Okay so, I was talking to Lidia, she asked me about you, I told her we broke up." you started, getting closer to him so you could whisper. He leaned in closer to hear you better while you nervously played with the hem of his flannel. "And after I told her that, she asked me for your number, because well... obviously she likes you."

"Oh." he replied. "And that is an issue because?"

You didn't say anything, you didn't even look in his eyes. You were starting to come down a bit, which meant you weren't as bold. 

''Communication, please?'' he said after the two of you stood there in awkward silence, placing a hand on your cheek and lifting your head so you would look at him. 

You did look, with your faces dangerously close to each other, which made you remember the kiss. It made you blush, you were starting to want more than just a kiss at that point. You looked at his lips, then into his eyes again, which made him smirk cockily. 

"I knew it!" he said, letting go of your face and throwing his hands in the air like he had just single handedly won a football game. "You were jealous! You actually like me!" 

You blinked rapidly a few times while you watched him run around. 

"Oh my god, you don't have to do a flip just because I was jealous!"

"So you admit it? Now I actually have to do a flip."

"No, Peter, don't." 

He did a flip anyway. It's not like it was hard for him, he was Spider-man after all. You facepalmed yourself as you watched him, shaking your head. It was kind of funny though, him being so happy over something so small. But it actually was a big deal to him, you finally admitting you had some feelings for him made him so happy, he felt like he could fly. 

"You just gave me the ick, I no longer feel anything." You joked, laughing softly.

He didn't take it as a joke, stopping immediately and walking over.

"So I did a flip for nothing?" 

You placed your hands around his neck, kissing his cheek. He wrapped his hands around your waist, pressing his forehead against yours. The two of you stood there in silence like this for a while, enjoying the moment. You heard a door close, which made you let go of him and turn around. He still had his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him as Lidia approached the two of you. You immediately tensed up, not sure how this scene was going to unfold. She did admit to liking him, you lied about not liking him. It really was a whole mess in your head. You didn’t want to lose your only friend over a boy, but you also didn’t want to lose Peter over something so dumb.

"I knew you two didn't really break up!" he said cheerfully, clapping her hands happily. 

"No. Well, in reality we never dated to begin with, he just said that because he's annoying." You confessed.

"Annoying?" Peter asked, acting offended. 

"He's scared of girls flirting with him. He's scared of girls in general."

"No, I'm not."

"Okay, okay, no need to justify anything, I'll leave you two to it!" Lidia interrupted, smiling at the two of you. "I just wanted to make sure my plan worked."

"Your plan?" Peter asked. 

"Yeah, I wanted to see if she would get jealous, she totally did! I wanted to know if she was actually a cyborg or not."

"A cyborg?"

Peter laughed, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. 

"She's very capable of human emotions, such as anger and annoyance." he continued the joke, kissing the side of your head. You pushed his arm away crossing your arms in front of your chest. 

"Get lost, both of you!" you whined as they collectively made fun of you, walking away from them. 

"Thank you." Peter said to Lidia. She nodded in return, going back inside the house. He ran after you, hugging you from behind so you would stop. 

“I thought you weren’t drunk? Why are you throwing a tantrum?”

“I’m not. I wasn’t jealous, I take it back. I don’t like you.”

— 

Your back was pressed against the cold elevator wall, Peter’s fingers were gently touching the skin on your waist under your shirt. Your tongue was in his mouth while the two of you kissed hungrily. His hair was messy because you played with it while you made out. He lifted one of your legs, his hand running along it until he reached your butt, squeezing it playfully. The elevator door opened, which made you break the kiss. You did feel like you started coming down from the weed earlier in the evening, while still at the party even, but the effect definitely was not over yet. You looked at Peter, his arm was rested on the wall next to your head, he was looking down at you, panting softly. A soft blush was painted across the pale skin on his cheeks. He looked unbelievably cute. You grabbed the hand that was holding your ass, taking it in yours and leading him out of the elevator. The weed was making you very needy, and now that the rabbit was out of the hat, nothing was really stopping you from doing what you wanted most. And Peter was the thing you wanted to do the most right now. You walked rapidly to your bedroom, turning the lights on before pushing him on the bed. Peter looked at you in shock, he didn’t expect you to be this bold. Meanwhile you got on top of him, already trying to take his flannel off. He helped you with that, placing his hands on your hips, still processing that this whole thing is happening. 

“Do you mind taking part in this?” you asked, annoyed by how stunned he was underneath you.

“Yes! I mean, no, sorry! I’ll just stop talking…” 

“Yeah, that would be best.” you cut him off, kissing him afterwards while your hands went under his t-shirt and touched… spandex underneath it. You broke the kiss, sitting up and looking at him. 

“Are you wearing the Spider suit?” you asked him, furrowing your brows. 

He had completely forgotten about that.

“Yeah, I was on patrol when Lidia texted me to come over…”

“Please stop talking about her.” you whined

“You said you weren’t jealous.” He teased you, his hands moving under your shirt. He ran his fingertips along your back slowly, lifting your shirt further up with each movement. 

You didn’t reply, just took your shirt off and lay down on him, attacking his neck with kisses and soft nibbles. His breath hitched when your lips touched his skin, moaning softly when your teeth dug into it.

“How do you take that suit off?” you asked, undoing his jeans before you kissed him again. 

“Well, you just place your hand in the middle of my chest and it loosens up so you can take it off.”

“Take it off theeen.” you said, sitting up again.

You got off of him so he could get rid of all the clothes he was wearing, including the suit. It was your first time seeing him naked, which meant you had to stare. The clothes he usually wore weren't doing any justice to his physique, you could definitely tell that now. He snapped his fingers in front of you, pulling you out of your trance. 

“You good?” 

“Oh, I’m really good.” you smiled, getting on top of him again. 

After making out for a few more minutes, your hand reached down to his underwear, slipping inside and taking a hold of his dick. His hand grabbed your shoulder, breaking the kiss you both were very invested in, to look at you in shock. You smiled at him encouragingly, kissing his nose before you gave him a few strokes. It’s not like he needed them, he was already hard enough. You pulled his underwear down, he still looked terrified and tense. 

“Are you okay with this?” you asked. 

He nodded, closing his eyes and biting his lip while you stroked him again with your hand. You had to loosen him up a little bit so you kissed down his jaw and neck, placing soft butterfly kisses further and further down - on his chest, his stomach, until you reached his penis. You got off the bed, getting down on your knees to stand between his legs. Peter still had his eyes closed, his muscles would flex when you touched him. Was he actually a virgin? You chuckled at the thought, your lips pressing against the shaft. It made him moan and flinch softly, his eyes flew open and he saw you between his legs. It made him support himself on his elbows so he could look at you better. Once he was looking, you gave him the most innocent stare you had in you before taking the tip in your mouth, running your tongue over it. He threw his head back, his fingers digging into the sheets. You giggled softly after that, giving him a slow long lick from the bottom back to the tip before taking the entire thing in your mouth, bopping your head. Your hand was stroking the parts that you couldn’t fit in your mouth, watching him as he squirmed and moaned under your touch. It turned you on even more, watching his toned chest rise up and down, his stomach muscles flexing. Seeing him like this made you more needy than before, so you undid your jeans and slipped your free hand inside to touch yourself. You moaned with his dick in your mouth. 

“Ah, fuck.” he said, looking at you.

You two held eye contact for a few seconds while you went further down on him with your mouth, his hand found its way to your hair, resting there. Touching yourself wasn’t enough anymore, you needed him. You stopped sucking him off, resting your head on his leg while you looked at him. He whined when you stopped, looking at you. Peter’s fingers brushed some stray locks away from your face. Your fingers were still moving down your clit while you looked at him. 

“Pete.” you moaned softly, your knees weak because you were getting close. 

“Yes?” he replied between pants, cupping your cheek with his hand. 

He ran his thumb along your cheek. You hid your face in his thigh, your free hand was still loosely holding his length as you came, moaning his name once more. 

“Fuck, that was so hot.” Peter said, still petting your cheek calmly as you were coming down. 

“Just wait ‘till we get to the actual sex.” you laughed, taking your hand out of your jeans. 

You moved on the bed, sitting down next to him before you placed your cum-coated fingers on his lips and he obediently took them in his mouth, licking them off clean. He held eye contact the entire time, making you bite your lip as you felt his tongue swirling around your fingers. Now you really needed to fuck him. Peter’s hand moved to undo your bra, taking it off of you and immediately pinning you on the bed afterwards. He showered your chest with kisses, his fingers quickly pulling your pants down. You whined from the feeling of his soft lips against your skin, his hands touching your body. You loved it more than you ever imagined you would. 

“Who told you you were in charge?” You asked playfully, flipping him over again. 

He was slightly puzzled by your sudden movements, throwing his hands back while he looked up at you. In his eyes, you were the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen. You didn’t have enough nerve to take your panties off so you just pushed them to the side before taking his member with your other hand, teasing around the entrance. His hands were on your hips again, his head back while he enjoyed the feeling of your wetness on his tip, it felt heavenly, intoxicating, but incredibly painful to be teased like that. 

“Who told you you could be on top?” he asked in return to your previous question, digging his nails in your soft, silky skin. 

“Do I hear a complaint?”

“No, no, definitely not.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“What about-’’ he started, unsure if he should finish the question. “Protection?”

“Fuck.” you cussed out, it had slipped your mind altogether. “Okay um, a few minutes like this and we use a condom after?”

He nodded at your suggestion, neither of you could wait any longer for this. You squeezed the shaft of his dick, holding it in place while you slowly slid down it. The two of you moaned in sync, which made you laugh softly. It took a few seconds to adjust to the size before you started moving your hips. You didn’t want to brag about your skill, but you knew you were going to give him a very good time. All these dancing lessons when you were younger were paying off so well right now. You had one hand running up and down his stomach while your other hand was on his leg, supporting you as you rolled your hips on his, like the good cowgirl you were. Peter felt like it was too good to be true, if he didn’t have your nails digging into his leg, which was a pain he was definitely willing to ignore, he would have assumed this was a dream. The way your body moved like fluid was hypnotizing, and combined with the way you felt, he was really losing his mind. The two of you were playing a very dangerous game. His name rolled out of your lips, which was enough to drive him crazy given the circumstances. Peter closed his eyes, everything was getting too much for him. 

“Pete, look at me.” you whined when you saw him.

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?” 

“I can’t, I’ll- Fuck.”

You stopped, getting off of him. What you were doing really was dangerous, you had to use protection at that point. You opened the drawer on your nightstand, taking a condom and tossing it to him. He grabbed it, unwrapping the thing and putting it on. 

“I think it’s kinda…”

You looked down at it, the condom did seem small on him. It made you laugh, kissing him after that. 

“Wanna be on top?” you asked him. 

He nodded again, but he had different plans to yours. He grabbed your hips, turning you over on your stomach. 

“Peter!” you protested in shock, looking back at him. 

Peter smiled coily, positioning himself. He pulled your hips back slightly with one arm, inserting himself and started thrusting in you forcefully. You cried out burying your face in the mattress while he fucked you. This whole being innocent act really got you in the beginning, you actually believed he was a virgin for a second. You should have known he was a freak the second he licked your fingers. He was absolutely merciless, holding your hips in place while he slammed you, making you moan and whine with each movement. You were never the loud type, but the way he was fucking you, you just couldn’t help it. Peter’s hands moved up and down your back, held your waist. He made sure to touch every inch of skin that was exposed to him. His hand wrapped around one of your wrists, pulling it back. He did the same with the other, holding both of your small wrists with his hand at the small of your back. He really was a freak. You couldn’t move, he had full control now. All you could do was sit there, whine and cry his name while he rearranged your guts. It was getting too much, even for you, it felt like he knew all the right spots to make your legs shake. You tried moving your hips with his, but he would shush you and hold you down so you couldn’t move. You hated not being in control, but he wasn’t giving you a choice. You were actually enjoying being absolutely dominated by this shy, awkward geek. You were having a shaking orgasm all over his dick sooner than both of you had expected. He had to let go of your wrist and use both hands to help you stay steady while he fucked you through it, and even after you were done, he didn’t stop. 

“Peter, Peter, please, I can’t.”

“What was that? Were you begging me?”

“Please” you cried out. 

You hated being overstimulated, it felt so much better to just stop for a short break and do another round, but this you hated. He lay on top of you, not stopping even for a second, so he could whisper in your ear.

“I’ll stop when I make you squirt, princess.” 

You whined, feeling his body weight on top of you. He was so warm, you could feel his toned muscles on your skin, his hair was tickling the side of your face while he kissed your neck and your shoulders. You gripped on the sheets in front of you, you were moaning his name, it was the only thing you could say, the only thing on your mind. I had never squirted before, you weren’t even sure you could, until you did. It was a shaking, strong orgasm, you felt like you had peed yourself but in the best way possible. It lasted so long and it was so intense you could barely breathe after it. You were still disorientated when Peter pulled out, turning you around, he came on your stomach and breasts. Your legs were flooded, he was wet all over as well, your sheets were soaked. You were too fucked to even think straight, to even care that you were about to fall asleep in this whole mess.

—-

You were woken up by the alarm on Peter’s phone. It was 7 am. You opened your eyes, seeing a curly head next to yours. 

“Oh no.” you said, sitting up. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no.” 

You shook him awake, which made him groan in displeasure. 

“Jesus, what time is it?” he asked “I’m so sore, wow.” 

“No, no, no, no, no.” you kept repeating over and over. 

“What’s up with you?”

“This didn’t happen! Please tell me it was a dream! It didn’t happen, right?”

“By the looks of it, it definitely happened.”

“God, no.” You cried, laying back down. 

You definitely needed a minute to process it, staring at the ceiling, Peter rolled over on his side, supporting his head with one arm while he looked at you. 

“I would suggest a shower, but I can see that you’re freaking out.”

You gave him the death glare, which made him slowly get out of the bed before you actually got the chance to strangle him. He was butt naked, which confirmed your memories of the night before. You groaned and  turned your attention back to the ceiling, cursing yourself mentally for allowing this to happen. After a solid 3 minutes, it was time for a quick shower before driving Peter to school. He was already late, you didn’t want him to be even more late. 

You caught him in his spidersuit, standing on the edge of the window with his backpack on his back. He turned his head to look at you, already holding the web he had shot a web somewhere into the distance. 

“What the hell are you doing?” you asked him, still in your towel. 

“Going to school?”

“In your suit?”

“I’m late, this is the fastest way there.”

“Take it off, I’m driving you.”

“But-”

“No, that’s too risky, take it off.”

“Well that gave me flashbacks from last night.”

“Forget them.”

The silence in the car while you drove him to school was deafening. Peter was looking out of the window and you were trying to concentrate on driving. But he kept distracting you, every time he moved you got freaked out that he would touch you. And you were even more terrified because you actually wanted him to touch you, it was more anticipation rather than fright. And his breathing, you were either hyper focused on his presence in general, or he was just breathing way too loud. And it reminded you of last night, his breath hitching under your touch, the warm tinkle on your skin from when he exhaled as he was on top of you. You were so drowned in your memories that you were caught off guard when the high school building suddenly appeared in front of you. You stopped the car in the parking lot, finally turning your head to look at Peter. He smiled weakly, his hand reaching out to hold yours. You were hesitant at first but you let him do it. 

“I don’t want this thing to come between us.” he said 

“You’re going to be late, you should go.”

“We really need to talk about this.”

“You’re gonna be late.”

He sighed, throwing his head back in annoyance. He ran his thumb along your hand, sitting like this for a few seconds. You couldn’t help but stare at your hands, a tingly feeling in your stomach with every movement he made. 

“Have fun in class.” he told you, opening the door and walking out of the car. 

—-

It had been two days since you decided to stay over at Lidia’s place. Being around Peter was too much to handle for you right now. He had been blowing up your phone ever since you disappeared. You didn’t really disappear, you didn’t want him to think you got kidnapped so you left him a note that you’d be staying with a friend for a few days. 

It was a tough few days, you appeared at Lidia’s door shaking because you had been crying too hard. She helped you in, holding you while you cried your heart’s content out. After a good sleep in the night, mixed with some confusing stories you were trying to tell your friend, you were actually finally ready to discuss the situation. You walked out of the bedroom into the kitchen, sitting at the table as Lidia gave you a hot cup of tea. 

“You doing okay?” she asked softly.

You nodded, taking a sip from the warm liquid. 

“Want to talk about why having feelings for someone is such a drama?”

“It’s more complicated than just that.”

“How?”

“For starters, he’s barely legal. Also, he’s basically a colleague of mine and office romance is a big no.”

“You don’t even work in an office.”

“I didn’t mean it literally. How do you smoothly transition from nanny to girlfriend overnight? I imagine Tony freaking out if he finds out about this. They have a very weird son-father relationship.” You fussed your brows when you thought about it.

The two of you sat in silence, Lidia looked at you smiling like she had an evil plan. Your eyes met hers and you knew she was about to suggest something really crazy

“You can always leave Stark Industries. How about working for Oscorp Industries? I know Harry Osborn, he’s a really cool guy.”

“That’s basically like sleeping with the enemy.”

“Come on, it’s not like you’re planning on being the Stark nanny for your entire life! You can check out your options. You’re pretty, smart and young. Top of the class in both math and physics, you’re wasting your time babysitting. And Peter would no longer be your coworker.”

“I’m not EXCLUSIVELY babysitting. I do science work at Stark too. And I can't do that to Tony, he already pays me way too much for the job I do, he took me in when I had nothing left... In a very weird way he's like a father to me.”

“If I were you, I’d be trying to actually bag Harry Osborn. He’s your fan.”

You looked at her with the side of your eye. Whose side was she on? You had been crying for two days straight because you had feelings for Peter and suddenly she’s suggesting you start dating someone else? 

“Are you just saying that because you still want to fuck Peter? How does Osborn Jr. even know I exist?” you asked her.

“Oh no, you already did that, cute Stark intern if way off limits at this point.” She said, taking a banana from the fruit basket and peeling it. “It was just a suggestion. If dating Peter is sooo complicated, just date someone else instead. Harry used to take Math with us last semester, he was asking around if you were tutoring but I didn't know you back then."

“But that would break his heart!’’

“Honey, you’re already breaking his heart. You keep saying you don’t want him, but you let him be your ‘fake boyfriend’ for the party, then you kiss him for real. After that you have a fake breakup with him, and the same night you sleep with him? And he has all his hopes up that you finally feel the same way, so you just run and hide from him. If that’s not toxic behavior, then I don’t know what is.” 

She was right, you were leading Peter on, constantly playing hot and cold with him. One minute you wanted him and the next you didn’t. If you were feeling confused, which you definitely were, then it was probably even worse for him. 

“Oh, god, I’m an actual asshole to him.”

Lidia nodded, biting off her banana.

—-

After the dire realization that you were a terrible person that did not deserve anything good to ever happen to you ever again, Lidia decided it would be good for you two to go out and eat some ice cream to cheer you up. You knew that no amount of ice cream could ever fix the damage you had done, but it sure was a way to give you some kind of dopamine, which you desperately needed. Peter still hadn’t given up on calling and texting, which was making you feel even worse for what you were doing to him. Lidia made sure to cover your tracks when he texted her in desperation, assuming you had gone to her since you had no one else. He was right, but she didn’t tell him where she lived and would only inform him that you were doing somewhat okay. That didn’t help his stress in any way, shape or form, if anything it just made him feel worse, like he had fucked his chances up big time. 

But Lidia took you to her favorite gelato place anyway, treating you to some pistachio gelato, which you weren’t sure whether you loved or hated. Just like you did with Peter. But it was nice to go out for a change, and try something new. It was good to get your mind off of that awkward geek that has been driving you crazy for months now. After the cute gelato date, you decided to walk down two blocks to one of your favorite coffee shops. You went there all the time to get orders for the Avenger meetings, it was close to Stark tower and everyone appreciated a good coffee blend. 

“So, that’s actually where you live?” Lidia asked, looking up at the glass building in the distance, coffee in hand. 

“Yep.”

“The view must be amazing!”

“Breathtaking is a more appropriate word.” 

And just as you were engrossed in the view, finally feeling some kind of peace after an eternity, you saw a red and blue spot swing around. 

“Oh no.” you said, turning to Lidia, using your hand to turn her into the direction from which you came from, pushing her so she could go.

“What happened?Why are we going?”

“Just trust me, we need to go!” you said, still pushing her.

But you were too late, he had already spotted you. In a matter of seconds, Spider-man dropped down from the sky right in front of the two of you. 

“We have to talk.” The masked one said, looking at you, as you attempted to hide behind Lidia. 

The girl turned to look at you, slightly squatted down so you could hide behind her back.

“You know Spider-man?” she asked, stepping away to expose you to him.

He crossed his arms in front of his chest, looking at you with his head tilted to the side. 

“How do you know spider-man??” Lidia asked you. 

“I don’t, stranger danger.” You said once you gained your composure, looking at him. 

He laughed at your words, shaking his head. 

“We both work with the Avengers, she brings me coffee every meeting.”

“You don’t even drink coffee, you big man-child, you beg me to bring you hot chocolate so you don’t feel excluded from the coffee drinkers.” 

“Oh, so you know my coffee order but I’m somehow a stranger?”

You were blowing the cover, which was really bad for the two of you. 

“Okay I do know him.” you admit, turning to Lidia. 

“And we need to talk, now.” 

Before you even had the chance to reply he took your coffee cup and shoved it in Lidia’s hands, wrapping his arm around your waist and swinging you away from the scene. He had never done this before, you were actually shaking with fear for your life. You wrapped your arms and legs around him like a koala, holding him so tightly you were probably going to strangle him soon. He landed the two of you on a roof when he noticed you weren’t okay with swinging. 

“You can let go now, we stopped.” he said, you had hidden your face in his chest, eyes shut as tight as humanly possible. The wind really had stopped. You looked up at him, letting go and stepping down, taking a few steps back while fixing your outfit. 

“You wanted to talk?” you reminded, finally looking at him.

“What the hell did I do to push you away this bad?” he just exploded, all of the bottled up thoughts and feelings taking over. He was pacing around nervously while he talked, waving his hands in the air to emphasize the words. “Like for real, I finally thought I had a breakthrough with you, after all of this goddamn time, you actually admit what we both knew was true and then just…. You flip a switch and you run away? We’re back to square one? What more do you want me to do, Y/N? What else can I possibly do to get to you when you constantly refuse to communicate, you systematically run away from both your feelings and me? I’m really tired and confused all of the time because you just can’t seem to mak-”

“You’re right.” you cut him off. 

He stopped walking around and looked at you. If he didn’t have the mask on, you would probably be able to read his expression, but you were guessing it was pure shock anyway. 

“I’m right?”

“Yeah, absolutely.” you nodded. “I thought that if I pushed you away enough times you would just give up. But you never did. Then I let my guard down and this whole mess happened. It’s not that I don’t like you, I actually do, despite you being the most annoying person I have ever met in my entire life. I was toxic to you, like radioactive even, even more than that spider that bit you. I just thought, and I still do, that given our circumstances, it’s unwise to date.”

“If this is about me being younger again, you’re so wrong. Despite our age difference, I’m the one who actually wanted to work this out, right? You’re being immature.”

“It’s not about age. Well, it is kinda, but I genuinely think I'll be a bad girlfriend to you.”

He walked up to you, placing a hand on your cheek. You put your hand over his, looking at the mask. 

“Don’t say that, you’ll be an amazing girlfriend.”

“No, Pete, I’ll act the same way I do now. I’ll be inconsistent and push you away and… hurt you.”

He stroked your cheek with his thumb, pulling you into a tight hug after that. 

“How about we try? For a month?”

You pressed yourself to him, thinking about it. A month didn’t sound like a long time.

“Okay.” you said, he tried to let go but you didn’t let him, scared to see his reaction. It wasn't going to hurt you to try. Even if it made your blood run cold.

He moved one arm up, showing you his pinky. Peter really wanted to make this a pinky promise? Real mature. You laughed at his act but did it anyway. 

“And what if it doesn’t work out?” you asked him, finally looking up as you locked pinkies.

“I’ll make it work out.”

“Just a heads up, I’m not going as your prom date, Parker.”

----

I'm tagging everone who asked for a part 2! Pls dm me if you want your tag removed!

@groundclueless @spiderman-stilinski @sovrwolfie @wtvbabes

@writingfortheunloved @leavemeoutofitkay @ivyquill

#fanfiction #peter parker x reader #marvel imagine #peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter perker imagine #marvel fanfiction #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #spiderman #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman smut #spiderman imagine #peter parker smut #smut #female reader #fem reader #fluff #mcu spiderman x reader #spiderman x oc #spiderman x you #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x reader #peter parker x fem!reader

[jahayla-parker]

🎆 Hey J!! Congrats on your 1.5 followers I'm so proud of you girl!! So for my request I was wondering if it could be a Peter Parker one where y/n is somehow transported into Spider-Man: Homecoming, Spider-Man: Far From Home, or Spider-Man No Way Home you pick and chaos ensues 💜

Multiverse : Peter Parker x Real-world!Reader

Descr: short fic in which y/n finds herself in her favorite movie and has to decide how to proceed.

Warnings: I’m not really great at these kind of AUs but other than that, I can’t think of any but let me know!

This sucks; I'm sorry, nothing was coming to me

Y/n bounced her right leg nervously as she looked around. She didn’t understand what was going on. One second she had been rewatching the latest Spider-Man movie, No Way Home from the comfort of her apartment. The next, she was standing in front of a glowing circle, identical to the ones that were portals in the movie she’d been watching. She hesitated briefly but nevertheless let her courage guide her into the multi-dimensional opening.

Y/n squinted as her eyes adjusted to her new surroundings. She quickly realized she’d somehow seemingly entered into the Marvel Cinematic Universe. How that was possible, she wasn’t certain. Had it not been for her literally pinching herself several times, she’d have thought she was simply dreaming. But she wasn’t. This was real.

Y/n slowly made her way across the bridge, stopping the moment she heard the fighting begin. She was actually in No Way Home.. or… in the universe that held the No Way Home events..? She wasn’t sure how to phrase it, it was all so bizarre. Either way, she knew from having seen the movie countless times already, that she ought to run and hide unless she wanted Dr. Octavius or Green Goblin to harm her.

Y/n let her feet guide her away from the immediate threat, only looking up when her legs came to a halt. She blinked rapidly as she found herself standing in front of Doctor Strange’s Sanctum. Of course she’d managed to make it here. Perhaps she should just go with the flow and try to help. After all, she knew how things would go, maybe she could prevent Tom Holland’s char Peter from getting hurt and May from dying.

That idea turned out too optimistic as Peter understandably was weary of y/n. It was one thing to bring people who knew him/Spider-Man from other universes. But a universe in which he was actually just a character and not real, that was another thing to digest. Nevertheless, Peter didn’t want to take any chances so he let her help him, Ned, and MJ.

It was a bit difficult at first to get Peter to trust her. As in his eyes, she seemed to be able to tell the future and was offering to stop the bad things before they happened. Luckily, having seen Far From Home, y/n understood why he was so weary of such a thing being too good to be true. So even when Peter trapped her in a sheet of webs as he demanded answers he could understand, she remained calm.

Once he had heard her out and understood that she meant no harm, Peter let y/n guide him on what to do and what not to do. There were some moments of chaos nonetheless as they were trying new things that y/n knew Peter hadn’t done in the movie before. But, she figured it was worth all the danger and chaos because she was helping her favorite superhero.

Only that too was much more intense than y/n had anticipated. Yet, she was simultaneously thrilled to be playing an active part in the movie she loved so much. Especially since they were now near the ending and May hadn’t died!

The only issue is y/n now had to return to her own universe. As much as she wanted to stay and make a place for herself in this one, she refused to risk ruining the MCU by accident. So, with a sigh, y/n closed her eyes as she said goodbye to this universe before stepping back into hers.

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[bananabread-nana]

Part 1

Spiderman!EthanLandry x Enchantress!OC

Slow burn, Violence, suggestive(eventually?)

past/flashbacks

A/N: I haven’t written anything in FOREVER so please bare with me. Ignore any punctuation or grammar mistakes 😭 comment if you want to be on the taglist and reblogs are greatly appreciated. I hope you enjoy 🤸🏻‍♀️

———————————————————————————

An ear-piercing scream ripped through the poor woman’s throat, adding to the burn that only got worse with every breath she took. She couldn’t run much longer the only thing keeping her going was the sound of the man’s heavy footsteps behind her. Taunting her. Getting closer to her. Closing her eyes bracing for impact..

THUD

The confused woman opened her eyes just to catch a glimpse of the alluring emerald haze that disappeared just as fast as it appeared revealing the man that had spent the last two hours tormenting her, robbing her of her belongings and dignity, lying in a pool of his own blood.

———————————————————————————

Loud police sirens roared through the streets of New York interrupting his thoughts bringing him back to reality. Quickly packing his things Ethan bolted out of Sam and Tara’s shared dorm which sparked some confusion and concern within the group for a split second before it faded away due to persistence of this exact situation. As far as they know they just think his control-freak of a dad, Sheriff Bailey is blabbing at him to get home.

In reality, he got straight to work putting on his vibrant red and blue onesie he calls his suit as soon as he turned the corner.

TWIP TWIP

Swinging from building to building with the flick of his wrist all while desperately searching for the crime scene. His attention was quickly drawn by an ear-piercing scream that sent a chill down his spine. Now heading towards the general direction of the call for help, he began articulating his plan. It was just another night as the friendly neighborhood Spiderman, web up a greedy criminal, occasionally giving them a taste of his enhanced strength, and leave. There was something about this particular moment that gave him an unsettling feeling in his stomach.

Nervous?

Scared?

No, never?

I’m Spiderman, THEY’RE scared of ME not the other way around

The boy tried so desperately to ease his nerves, he had never felt nervous let alone afraid of putting himself in danger but there’s a first for everything.. right?

The scene was quiet, too quiet.. he swore this was where the woman had screamed from, his enhanced hearing never failed him. Right?

Spiderman?

His head nearly snapped by the way his head whipped towards the direction of the voice. He couldn’t believe what he saw, a man laying face down drowning in a pool of his own blood and a woman in the corner with a mix of multiple emotions plastered on her pale face. Before the spider-boy could ask any questions, the woman stared blurting out what had happened prior to his arrival. She spoke too fast and her shaky voice made it hard to decipher her words but one thing stuck out..

..THEN I saw a flash of green and before I knew it the guy was dead! That person or thing or whatever it was SAVED ME! Do you know who it is? Or what?…

She continued to spew unanswerable questions but he wasn’t listening because he was deep in thought..

Who? What? How?

———————————————————————————

Reblogs are greatly appreciated 🫶🏼

Taglist: @tuktuk34 @netey6m

Comment if you want to be added

#ACQUAINTANCE SERIES #ethan landry #jack champion #Spiderman #Peter Parker #ethan landry scream #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry angst #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry smut #spiderman au #spiderverse #spiderman x oc #spiderman x y/n #spiderman mcu #peter parker spiderman #peter parker au #peter parker x oc #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst

[frost-queen]

Subway ride (Reader x Peter Parker) TASM

Requested by: anon; Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @theletterhart, @alex--awesome--22​, @elllie-does-the-posts​, @floatlosers​, @merlieve​, @queen-of-books​, @glimmering-darling-dolly​, @denkisclown​, @wildieflower​, @meyocoko​, @bubblybrianna​, @justanothercoco​, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23​, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr​  

Summary: Rushing to get on time for school, you miss your bus. With no other option you have to take the subway that is packed with pushy people. Holding on for dear life, you are saved by a familair classmate of yours. Keeping you on his lap, protects Peter you from the cramped subway. Will you make it on time for school and what might faith throw your way on this busy morning.

Eyes widened when you looked down at your watch. Having just taking a bite from a sandwich. Dropping your sandwich on the counter, you needed to hurry. Making your way hasty to the door. You went out, closing the door behind you. A second later the door opened, sticking your arm out. Reaching for the ground, you picked up your bag. The door shutting once more. In the hallway, widened your eyes once more, seeing the elevator door shut. – “No! wait!” – you called out, running over to it. 

The people in the elevator barely moving. – “No!” – you groaned as the doors shut right before your eyes. Hands pressed against the wall. Grunting you outed your frustration by slapping your hand against the door. Pushing the elevator button in top speed. – “C’mon, c’mon.” – you mumbled, tripling on your feet. When it was no use, you ran to where the stairs were. 

Pushing the door open with your back. – “Shit, shit, shit.” – you puffed out, grabbing onto the railing firm. Feet tapping rapidly on the steps they could barely keep up. You hate having to run three floors down to get out of the apartment building. A lady coming upwards, carrying groceries came blocking your way. You sped up to beat her going the turn.

She was about to get on the turn as you jumped over her bags, using the wall as support. – “Sorry!” – you called out, hurrying down the steps. You ran out of breath, jumping down the last few steps. The door flew open as you spurted out. Catching your breath for a moment. Hands on your knees. Turning your head, you saw the back of the bus drive up to the bus stop. Shaking your head, you couldn’t handle any more bad luck. 

Groaning out of breath, you started running again. Hoping to catch up with the bus before it came to the stop. A man walking his dog was slowing down your path. You touched his back, setting yourself off to jump past him. You duck to the side for two men carrying moving boxes. – “Shit, shit, shit.” – you said to yourself, forcing yourself to push it up a notch. The bus came to a stop as you were not nearly there. The doors opened as people walked out and back up. 

“Please, please, please, please.” – you begged, giving it your all. The doors shut as you gritted your teeth, ignoring the soreness in your legs. You were at the end of the bus when it suddenly started to ride off. – “No!” – you called out, waving your arms. – “Stop!” – you kept running up till the front of the stop, but it was no use. The bus took a turn, heading into another street.

You cursed, moving your hand into your sweaty hair. Agitated you stomped your foot on the ground. How was it that you had such bad luck, out of all days. Specially now when there was a special event at school, you needed to be on time for. With your hands in your hair, you didn’t know what to do for a second. Muscles aching and worn out from the sudden exercise you forced on yourself. 

There was no other option then to run for another way of transportation to school. You remembered there was a subway station just a few blocks from your street. It took you a lot of effort to start running again. Slowing down as you barely had the energy to keep going. You had to. It took you longer then you expected to be at the subway entrance. Going down the steps to go underground. It was chillier then above ground and much louder. 

It was so crowded you barely saw where you needed to go. You barely took the subway, so you needed to be extra alert to take the right tube. Following the right line, you went further down to your platform. A strong wind blowing through the pipe, followed by loud rattling sounds of wheels on rails. It was so loud it made your ears hurt. The platform was crowded as you tried to squeeze yourself closer to the line. Pushing past people to get to the front.

From down the tunnel screeched a loud sound. Wheels on rails. A gush of wind blew wildly as a subway was approaching. You saw the lights reflect on the wall as it approached, slowing down. You watched the subway pass till it came to a stop. You noticed it was already crowded, wondering how everyone on the platform was going to fit in. Right in front of you were doors to your relief. They opened as a swarm of people pushed their way through. Bumping against you to force their way through. 

Battered from all sides, you were disoriented for a second. Then you got pushed hardly forwards. The people from behind you, eager to get on. You were defenseless as they had control over your movement. You stumbled into the subway, pushed all the way to where the already filled seats were. From all sides cramped backpacks and broad shoulders you. Closing you in a tight spot. You heard the doors close, looking frantically around for anywhere to grab. There seemed to be nothing as the subway got in motion. Your first instinct was to steady your balance. 

You leaned forwards, pressing your hand sturdy against the glass, hovering over a lady who had her purse neatly on her lap. – “Sorry…” – you said seeing her glare your way. You would rather not lean this close over her, but you had no choice. You let go of the glass as it was an uncomfortable position to be in anyways. The subway raced through the tunnels as you got swayed from left to right, bumping against those beside you. You kept apologizing, holding onto the lady’s seat for some grip.

Your gaze went slightly to the left, spotting someone you recognized from school. He seemed to have had the same idea, staring back at you. You tried remembering his name as the movement of the subway kept rocking you around like a bouncing ball. Gripping onto the lady’s seat for dear life. You sure felt foolish. What a sight it must be seeing you fling around like a rag doll. The movement settled a bit, giving you a brief feeling of a steady ground. From the corner of your eye, you noticed the boy was still looking your way. Returning the stare, you found yourself smiling. He curled up a shy smile for himself, looking briefly down. 

Your face contracted with panic when the subway came to a sudden stop. You stumbled so hard against the person beside you, it was almost a domino effect. The doors opened as you braced yourself for what was to come. From all sides squeezed people through the packed subway to get off. You were pushed around, backing up to make more room. More people got on, pushing anyone that wouldn’t move to make room. People stepped on your toes, acting aggressively to get a spot on the packed subway. Forced to back up more, you nearly stumbled over your own feet.

You were squeezed between two people as one kept backing up without looking. You had no way out as the people behind you staid still. Their actions almost made you fall backwards to the ground. Till suddenly you felt something sticky on your shirt, tugging on you. You got spun around back forwards till you dropped onto someone’s lap. Feet flopping in the air. The subway got in motion again, making you grab the person’s shoulders for support. – “Hi.” – you said nervously with a smile. – “Hi.” – he responded shy. You felt his hands go around your waist to hold onto you. You furrowed your brows a bit, a name faintly coming to mind. – “Peter… right?” – you asked seeing him nod shyly.

“Parker… Peter Parker.” – he answered. – “I’m…” – you started as he answered for you. – “Y/n, I know…” – he chuckled sweetly. The subway took a sharp turn, making you squeeze your fingers deeper into his shoulders. Peter’s hands gripping tightly onto your waist. – “Sorry…” – you apologized nervously. Sitting so suddenly on his lap made you a bit flustered. – “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you take the subway Y/n.” – Peter said with a chuckle. You held onto him, feeling the subway take a turn. – “That is because I normally take the bus, Peter.” – you replied. – “What made you change today?” – he was curious, keeping his gaze on you. It made you a bit bashful seeing how he stared at you.

“I’m having the unluckiest morning ever.” – you confessed with a deep sigh. – “Honestly I thought I would be so late for school.” – you looked at your watch, seeing the time. – “I mean it still would be a close call, but I’m glad I’m at least not the only one.” – you said, looking briefly out the window to where you already were. Eyes wide, you quickly added more words, not wanting to sound rude. – “Not that I want you to be late. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t mean it like that. I just… I just…” – you noticed Peter’s brows furrow at your babbling. – “Maybe I should just stop talking.” – you broke off as your crazy talk was going nowhere. 

“No, no please don’t.” – Peter replied sheepishly, with a shake of his head. The subway came to a hard stop, making you fall back to the window. You were sure to smack the back of your head against the glass when Peter came in action. His hand in a split second on your back, his other hand pressed against the glass to break your fall. You gulped as he was hovering a bit over you. Face close to yours. – “You, okay?” – he asked. You nodding vigorously in a slight state of shock. Peter sure had some pretty good reflexes to act so quickly. 

His eyes staring deeply into yours. Your heart thumping loud against your chest. His gaze went briefly down to your lips, sucking in a breath. Someone bumped against Peter’s elbow, making him snap out of his trance. He helped you sit back up. The subway got in motion as Peter, and you kept chatting in hushes voices. Laughing and acting all comfortable in each other’s presence.

The subway came to another stop as this was your get off point. You hopped off Peter’s lap. Peter getting up as well. He took your hand, taking the lead to push a way through. Some people had already left, but it was still very much packed. Barley any space to hop off. Peter forced his way through getting to the doors. He got off, feeling your hand slip out of his. It made him widen his eyes, turning around in a panic. – “Peter!” – You called out as people got on, pushing you back. 

Peter moved his wrist forwards, shooting a web your way. You squealed loud, getting pulled out of the bus without able to give it an explanation. You fell forwards down the step between the bus and the street. Falling right into Peter’s arms who had caught you. – “Wha…how…” – you said confused, hands laying on his shoulders. Peter’s hands around your waist as he smiled. – “Got ya.” – he said, moving his hand to your cheek. – “Out of the way!” – A skater came rushing past, giving you a hard nudge for blocking the way. You got pushed closer to Peter, lips crashing against his. 

You needed to pull away as kissing him by accident was not what you planned. Yet you couldn’t pull away when Peter kissed you gently back. His hand giving your hip a squeeze. It felt nice kissing Peter, making you willingly kiss him more. Peter and you broke the kiss off, chuckling. – “Want to be extra late?” – he asked all smiley. You nodded letting him pull you away to skip school just a little longer.

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Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!    

#imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #Fic #imagines #marvel #marvel fanfic #spiderman #the amazing spider-man #spiderman x reader #spiderman x oc #spiderman x you #peter parker #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x reader #andrew garfield #andrew garfield's spiderman #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #peter parker imagines #peter parker blurb #imagine peter parker #spiderman imagines #imagine spiderman #spiderman blurb #fluff fic

[yoursecrett]

“Do I make you nervous?”

Peter Parker x Reader 

Summary: You had caught Peter’s attention, you always saw Peter as shy and clumsy, but turns out there is whole another side to him, that is just waiting for the right moment to appear... safe to say you liked it. 

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You were always the first one up when it came to the Avengers, no matter what time you went sleep you always woke up at 6am, this was usually how your morning went... wake up 6am, get ready for the day, train in the gym, make breakfast and then practice more... a very interesting life. 

“49,50″ You mutter to yourself before standing up stretching your back before bending down grabbing your water, you were cut from your thoughts when you heard a bang from outside the room... your eyes falling onto Peter who was pretending to look out the window. 

“Peter” You say catching his attention, Peter was one of the quiet Avengers compared to you anyways, you always noticed his eyes on you, no matter what you were doing he was always there and watching, he would laugh at everything you say, offer to join you on missions. 

You and Peter were the same age, at first you thought he just wanted to stick by you due to that, wanting to stay as your friend, but as months past you began to realise he had began liking you more than a friend, it all started off when he would blush and begin stuttering whenever you would joke with him or touch his arm, to showing up with your favourite coffee. 

“Hi Y/n” He says stumbling into the room tripping over the yoga mat, managing to catch himself, you couldn't help but laugh at his clumsiness. 

“You are up early” You say sipping your water “Y-Yeah I ended up falling asleep rather early last night and well you know I love an early morning feel as though I can get a lot done” He begins rambling before stopping himself. 

“A lot done, you seem busy, what do you have planned today?” you question raising your eyebrows slightly, you could see slight panic on his face on his face “t-training, um” He began stuttering once again not managing to come up with anything. 

“Just stalking planned today” You say a smirk taking over your lips, you saw Peter turn read before looking away “I - I wasn’t stalking, I was just walking past and tripped” He says quickly, you nod “Fair enough, well you are always welcome to join me training, I am going to do some yoga so grab a mat” He nods grabbing a mat placing it besides you, copying your moves.

You stopped watching him struggle to keep his balance, you laugh softly walking behind him grabbing his arms softly “It is better to keep your arms straight, to stay up longer keep your mind on your arms” you say running your fingers down his arm, you felt his body tense you look up making eye contact with him through the mirror. 

“Are you concentrating your arms” You question he nods, you could see his mind filled with thoughts “You know Peter, I can read minds” You say raising your eyes, you could his face drop with realisation “I have seen all your thoughts since the moment you joined, you should really to keep them guarded, you wouldn't want others to know your thoughts would you” You mutter to him, keeping your hands on his. 

He shakes his head, you smile innocently “Good job with your arms, now focus on tightening your stomach more” You say placing one hand on his stomach and one on his back “you see around here you need to tighten it, you are tensing it by doing that you will just end up hurting yourself” 

You were shocked by how fast Peter moved away “Are you okay” you question confused, he nods acting clueless “Yes I need a drink that is all” He says running his fingers through his hair, you smile softly “Here have some of mine” You hand him your bottle as he takes a drink muttering a thank you before going back to his mat placing the bottle in between us. 

“Can you help me stretch my legs” You question before you can even think, he is stood in front of you sending you a quick “sure”, you smile lifting one of your legs up onto his shoulder, his eyebrows raising up at you “Now just walk back slowly” You say as he begins moving back “Now back forward” he moves forward not once taking his eyes off yours. 

“Do I make you nervous Peter” You question hearing him chuckle in response, grabbing your leg placing it down carefully, before grabbing your other leg placing onto the shoulder repeating the same actions as before. 

You couldn’t lie and say you didn't find Peter attractive, you thought it was rather cute how shy and clumsy he was. “You okay Y/n” He questions looking at your shocked expression of him grabbing your leg, you nod swallowing nervously. 

“You know I think my um my legs are stretched out now” You beginning to pull your leg down, only for Peter to grab it once again keeping it in place, keeping his tight grip around it, you couldn't help but chuckle, a slight blush taking over your cheeks “Am I making you nervous Y/n” Peter switches your question onto you. 

You actually felt intimated by him, you had never seen this side to Peter before. 

“you not going to answer my question” He speaks up again breaking you out of your thoughts, there was no way you were allowing the Peter Parker to make you nervous “You finally gaining a little confidence huh, oh Peter I must say it has taken me by surprise, you want to kiss me Peter” You say moving closer to his face, his eyes flickering between your eyes and lips, you had right back under your control... or well you thought you did. 

You were taken by surprise when you back hit the mirror behind you, Peter placing his hand between your head to make sure you head didn’t smack into the mirror, his eyes flickered up to yours, smirk taking over his face as he chuckled “You have spent months teasing Y/n, from the light touches, sweet words and the constant stares, you have been waiting for this, waiting to get me right were you wanted me, but it seems as though I have gotten you right were I wanted you wanted you” He mutters his free hand pushing your hair from your face. 

You couldn’t think straight, how could you... so instead of thinking you just acted slamming your lips onto Peters... You both had been waiting for this moment and the moment your lips touched it felt like heaven, you were starving for one another, now you both had finally gotten what you wanted you both weren't letting it go.

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A little Peter Parker story - hope you enjoy :))

#peter parker #spiderman #peter parker x fem #peter parker x reader #tom holland #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x oc #the avengers

[itsybiggy]

Stuck With Me: Peter Parker x OC

Cute Peter Parker slow burn, less spiderman action more just good ol awkward Parker.

Peter has been in a bad mood all month, but with soon to be divorced parents, trying to figure out what's wrong with him is the last thing Lani needs. Thankfully summer break is here. Lani, Ned, Peter, and MJ set off on the summer vacation road trip to California. Drama ensues

🕸️Chapter 2🕸️

Chapter 1

Master list

•🕷️🕷️🕷️•

He left me on read. He never does that, like ever. My thoughts begin to wander to attempt to make evenly winged eyeliner.

So much for keeping it positive.

Intrusive thoughts pile up in my mind. I'm not dumb enough to really believe that Peter now hates the mere thought of me; but the little "read" under my text makes me anxious all the same.

I being wracking my brain. Thinking of everything I have said to him in the past weeks. I mean maybe I said something to make him upset or did something and just not realize it. But honestly, it only makes me smile as I recall the jokes we cracked and fun we all  have had. Nothing bad is really coming to mind.

My screen is still void of any text notifications.

I check my refection in the mirror, smiling. I usually try to stay positive when it comes to my appearance. And I definitely can't complain of how my butt looks my black maxi skirt. I adjusted my white crop top, making sure the tiny cross stitched spider was visible. After a quick click of my off brand Dock Martins I decided humidity was a virtue and mirror time was over.

It was already 5:15, I didn't feel quiet ready but Ned would be waiting.

~15 minutes later~

"GET IN LOSER WE ARE GOING SHOPPING!" I yell as Ned walks down the apartment stairs.

He gets in the car "Hey."

"Hey." My smile drops and I hope it's subtle. The tone of his voice worried me. Silence between us is uncommon. I squirm a bit in my seat.

Seeing as he isn't going to make conversation, I speak up.

"Did you get the texts from me and Michelle?" I say.

"Yeah, I have no idea what's wrong with him. Maybe we will figure out tonight" he says quickly, shrugs and looks out the window. Silence fills the car again.

I know you can't sound like anything over text, but Ned sounded a lot peppier when we were messaging. What was going on with my friends?

"We should go see a movie after."  I make a lame attempt to kindle a conversation.

Ned seems to perk up a bit at this.

"Yes! The Joker is out!"

I laugh at this, I'd never been much for DC superhero comics. Especially when they are made up. It didn't really make a lot of sense why someone would make up a superhero and a supervillain when there are plenty to choose from that are real. Movie production companies have tried to profit off of rising superhero stars. The movies are never as good as the up close and real action.

I shrug "I'll see whatever you want bubby."

He winces at 'bubby' and goes back to looking out the window.

I feel my face getting hot. Ok mental note, after being called bubby for 3 years Ned now doesn't like it.

WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON WITH MY FRIENDS! Blasts in my mind. My only hope now was that Michelle was normal.

___

To my relief she was. We got to the diner at 6:04, Michelle sitting down at our usual table in the back. We try to sit in the back as to not disturb other customers. Our laughs are usually boisterous and frequent not to mention the cheeky jokes. And all being on the decathlon team, heated arguments or "debates" on some old dudes theories or such tend to heated. But we are high tipping customers so we don't worry about it too much.

"Hey guys surprised to see you have made it here alive." She jokes.

"I don't know where you got that I was a bad driver!" I motion for Ned to take a seat before I slide in next to him.

"Oh I think you know." She winks.

"what?" I look at her, perplexed before she shakes her head.

"Speak of the devil" she said just as Peter walks through the door.

The little bell at the top of the door gives a joyful ring. Peter flinches but his body quickly moved back into its slightly hunched position with a frown on his face. Oh great.

"Hey Peter!" I say as he sits down next to Michelle.

He looks into my eyes and gives a slight smile. But says nothing.

A waiter soon comes around with menus "Can I get you started off with anything to drink?"

"I will have a coke." Michelle starts.

"Same." Peter mumbles.

"Sprite." Says Ned cheerfully.

"Tea for me please and thank you." I say brightly, I had to stay positive. I am with my friends to get away from negativity, not have more of it.

Once the waiter left we all began talking. Peter slowly starts engaging more, and it seems to feel right again. Something about him is definitely off; though that does make me very worried about him, I know now was not the time to ask. I will just do my best to cheer my moody friend up.

I smile, mentally stepping back from the conversation, contentment filled my heart. There is nowhere I would rather be and no group of people I would rather be with. I mean they are the only friends I have...

Good Eats has become a favorite of ours. We started eating here for dinner or after school almost every weekend, for about 3 years now. It was cheap for the quality of simple yet delicious diner food. But it's usually pretty quiet in the evenings— (we learned the hard way to avoid it during the mornings where the line is out the door.) —a steady stream of customers usually taking things to-go. Which I don't get, a big part of this place being great is the aesthetic. It reminds me of a 70s diner and most likely opened then. Yellow booths, a jute box always playing great oldies music, kinda ugly wallpaper, and warm lighting. And the store owner is a really nice guy. He usually brings his grandkids. It's always funny when you get rung up by a 10-year-old or have your water refilled by a 7-year-old. Since we have been coming for so long so often, the owner has a special discount for us "I've got to treat my best customers right!"  he always says I'm pretty sure it's just a %10 student discount. We usually tip as much much as we can.

I snapped back into reality when I heard my name. I didn't really know who it came from.

"What?" I said shacking my head out of the clouds.

"We were asking about the van. Summer break is almost here, when is Caroline gonna be ready?" Ned asks

"Oh right, I would say just in time for school to let out." I say.

We have been planning our summer break since school started this year. It will be our last summer vacation ever, so it had to be epic. I always get excited butterflies from it, but it is usually mixed with dread too. Dread because I know when I get home my parents will be officially divorced. Not that I haven't known this was coming or that it needs to happen. It definitely does, I have a cup bruise on the side of my head to prove it.

No, nope stop! I feel my eyes watering. Internally I let out a big sigh. This summer vacation has to be perfect. I don't know what I will do if it's not.

"Alright let's go over the plans one last time," Peter says.

I smile reaching into my purse, and pull out a small, light pink, piece of paper. 1-10 lists of things we need to do while we are in California. We had decided a beach trip is definitely what we need.

I clear my throat and begin to read.

1. start off at Stark Tower to go over things with Tony such as Hotels, food reservations, and tickets

Did I mention all of this was Peter's early birthday gift from TS himself. We are all pretty jazzed. And by that I mean we about shit our pants when Peter told us.

2. head out across the country stopping at the finest Tony Stark hotels (hotels with penthouse suites that Tony has frequent so much he just straight up bought the hotels.)

3  get to LA and check out our crib

4. beach

5. Disney Land

6. More beach

7. eat at a super fancy restaurant

8. ruins of Mr. Stark's Malibu mansion

9. Santa Monica Pier

10. hike to the Hollywood sign

It was a packed summer for sure, but it had to be the best, it just had to be. My last slice of happiness before I move away with my mom, before I move from Queens to which ever relative my mom decides to move close to. Away from all of my friends, who are more of a family then my real ones. Who have gotten me through so much, stuck by my side through it all. And even feeling upset makes me feel like I'm a monster. I want to support my mom, but I don't want this! I don't want to be away from them. Away...I hate that word.

"You ok La?" Ned asks  his hand rests on my back, lightly rubbing it.

My cheeks grow warm with embarrassment- I was crying. And of course Ned's kind questioning made more tears flow. I quickly wipe my eyes with my sleeve, and give a quick fake smile to my friends. They look concerned, except Peter. He looks almost angry, this made me cry more. Amazing.

"Yeah I'm fine. I-uh-i yawned." I stammer, I yawned wtf, who would believe that?!

"What the hell Lani?! No one's yawns make them cry that much." Michelle said, her voice rose she was almost laughing at the dumb lie that came out of my mouth. But I knew she was just concerned.

Ned quickly drops his hand from my back, my head instinctively turning towards him. He's looking at Peter.

"I'm fine I, I-just." I paused. I had told them about my parents getting a divorce, but not much. More importantly, I hadn't told them I was moving, and I wasn't planning on it till the trip is over. If they knew it would just ruin the whole trip for me. Not to mention I was so scared to even say it out loud, it would just make it seem more real. I tried my hardest to not think about it ever. Yea I know it's is unhealthy, but it's how I'm coping now. Might as well let future Lani deal with it.

"It's just my parents divorce, it's getting close to the last of all the court stuff. I just, can't stop thinking about it." My face continued the hot embarrassed sensation. I felt my under arms tingle and I could feel their eyes in me. My eyes stayed glued on my hands like my left depended on it.

There was a small pause. Oh gosh this is embarrassing.

"Lani, no madder what, you will always have us. We love you." Michelle finally said. Her tender words caught me off guard.

I looked back at her, giving a genuine smile "Thanks, that means a lot."

But the little voice in the back of my mind kept screaming Except they won't always be there for you.

"Are you guys ready to order?" We all jumped a bit as the waiter had finally returned to serve us. She placed each of our drinks in front of us.

After we ordered I had asked if we could just forget I said anything, what I needed was a fun night with my friends. They all agreed and once Ned had brought up The Joker, a new conversation sprung. I was just happy to not discuss anything family related.

___

Once we had all gotten and eaten our food, we decided to head to the movie theater to watch The Joker.

"Ok how about Peter pays for drink, Ned pays for Popcorn, and Lani pays for the tickets?" Michelle suggests as we walk into the theater.

"Um, that's convenient, seeing as you pay for nothing." Said Peter, slightly annoyed "and we should all pay for our own tickets, they are too expensive for Lani to pay for alone."

Michelle give a little snicker before we all decide it was every man for himself/herself.

I walk up to the counter, and smile brightly at the young man at the register. "Four tickets for The Joker, please and thank you."

"Sorry The Joker is sold out." He replies in a monotone voice.

"What?!" Ned exclaimed "but- I just checked online like 5 hours ago."

"Sorry The Joker is sold out" he repeats in the same voice. I don't blame him, he has probably had to say this so many people tonight.

"Hey, guys it's fine we can just pick another movie!" I say trying to lift their spirits.

"It 2 is out." Michelle offers.

Oh no

"Yeah I'm down" says Ned.

Oh no

"Yeah me too" says Peter.

Shit

Three pairs of eyes look at me. I give a sheepish smile. I get scared very easily, they know this, but I'm willing to take one for the team... even if it means I won't sleep for a few da-weeks. "Yes, let's go see It 2" I say in a fake enthusiastic tone.

I turn back to the man at the register "um, four for... It 2 please."

___

The theater is completely empty, which makes it about 1099999373783298xs more scary. It's a pretty popular movie so the rows of seats absent of people makes it feel like the twilight zone. We look around, deciding to sit in the far back.

I see Peter hanging back, walking slowly behind us. Strategically, I begin to slow my pace; slipping behind MJ to sit beside Peter. If there is anything that will distract me from the killer clown, it's Peter. We enter the row and settled in. And Peter grabs my hand.

#spider man #spider man x y/n #spiderman x oc #peter parker x oc #peter parker x reader #peter parker #spider man fanfiction #peter parker fanfiction #fanfic #marvel #mcufam #tom holland #tom holland x reader #ned leeds #michelle jones #mj watson #high school #roadtrip #eventual romance #peter parker smut #slow burn #friends to lovers #divorce #surfing #california #tony stark #pepper potts #the avengers

[guilty-pleasures21]

The perfect guy

The project

The new guy

The lie

The new body

The hospital

The first time

The suit

The virus

The escape

Warnings: explicit descriptions of sex including blowjob (f receiving) and penetration (p in v).

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Miguel tore off his hospital gown, exposing the entirety of his carefully crafted body to her, and she squeaked at the sight of his broad chest and his defined muscles and his rapidly hardening cock. She glanced up at him again and gulped when she saw the look on his face. 

     “Querida … Come on, mami, let me see you.” Miguel glided his hands up her back as he lowered his lips to her neck, pulling her into his chest. “Let me see this beautiful little body of yours, mi angelita.” He pressed a kiss to the side of her neck - just like he’d visualised doing so many times before - then he stepped back to pull her shirt off. She covered her chest immediately and looked up at him with wide eyes, suddenly nervous even though he'd seen her body many times before.

     Coño, she was so pretty. How long had he waited to touch her? To hold her and kiss her and cuddle her whenever she’d had a bad day? Five years? Seven? Since that very first time she'd forgotten her clothes before her shower and walked out of the bathroom completely naked? Or before that, even? 

     “Why are you so nervous, querida?” He reached around to undo her bra and take it off of her, finally allowing him a glimpse of her perfectly round and juicy breasts. P*tas, he couldn’t wait until he could lick and suck on her beautiful curves. 

     “It's nothing … It's nothing I haven't … seen before … cariño.” He found himself struggling to focus on his words as she stood before him, her pretty little body just waiting to be ravished by him. He stepped forward to squeeze her breasts in his hands and licked his lips hungrily as he watched himself touching her so intimately. “F*ck.”

     She gasped at the feeling of his fingers brushing across her nipples. Shit, he felt … so good! She shivered and Miguel growled before sliding his hands around to her back and pulling her flush against him. She whimpered in surprise at the sudden movement and he groaned at the sound.

     “Mmm, f******ck.” Miguel curled his fingers against her back, delighting in the feeling of her soft breasts pressing up against his hard chest. Then he moved one hand down to squeeze her ass. “F*******ck!”

     His head fell onto her shoulder as his brain turned numb with pleasure and he moved his hands to undo the zip of her jeans before kneeling down and pulling them off. “F*ck, f*ck  f*ck, f*ck, f*ck!”

     “Hmm! Miguel!” X squealed. Miguel licked his lips at the sight of her dripping wet p*ssy, then he pressed his mouth to her folds.

     “Mmmmmm, f*ck.” He dragged his tongue up her length repeatedly, licking her up hungrily and revelling in the array of new sensations his body could experience. X whimpered and gasped at the feeling of his warm tongue dragging along her length. Then she grabbed his head when her legs started quivering with pleasure, her fingers tangling in the silky strands of his hair.

     Miguel lifted her up onto his shoulders and pressed her against the wall. Then he stood up, his fingers gripping onto her thighs to hold her in place as he continued licking and sucking on her p*ssy. “¡Ay, p*tas, mi angelita! Sientes … Sientes tan p*tamente bien, mi amor. (Ah, f*ck, my little angel! You feel ... You feel so f*cking good, my love.) Mmm, so f*cking good.”

     “Hngrh, Miguel!” X held onto his head, trying to keep herself upright as he buried his face in her folds. “We can't … We can't have our first time … be in a hospital bathroom!” 

     Her voice came out in hoarse squeaks and Miguel chuckled as her body writhed around with pleasure. 

     “¡Joder! You taste … so f*cking good, mi amor.” He groaned against her as he sucked on her clit and her entire body contracted at the vibrations of his deep voice.

     “Ah! Miguel!” X's legs kicked the air with delight as her body twisted and contracted against his mouth. “You can't … I don't want … the first thing you taste … to be this!”

     Miguel squeezed her ass and X squealed as her hips bucked against his mouth, angling her hole towards him. He dipped his tongue into her and she yelped at how effing good it felt. 

     “Mmm … Callate, angelita (Shut up, little angel),” Miguel mumbled, refusing to ease up. “I've wanted this for so long. And I know you have too. F*ck.”

     He circled her entrance teasingly, then plunged his tongue into her, wriggling it around so it brushed up against her walls. X's legs spread wider as her body slumped over with relief, utterly stimulated. But then he started moving his head up and down, so that his nose nudged at her clit while his tongue continued to pleasure her insides, and her back arched to give him an even deeper angle to work with. “Hngrh … M-Miguel …”

     Her toes curled as her entire body tightened in anticipation, then she let herself go, shuddering with relief as she finally came into his mouth.

     “Mmm …” Miguel pressed a few quick kisses to her p*ssy, cleaning her up a little, then he set her back down. X looked up at him with wide eyes, her long lashes blinking up at him prettily as she tried to gather her thoughts. She was so cute, especially with that dazed look that he'd put on her face. Miguel grinned at the thought and pulled her back to him to kiss her.

     “Mmm …” X sank against his chest as she kissed him back, her hands roaming over his back and shoulders and neck as she familiarised herself with the hard planes of his body. Shit, he was even better than she'd ever imagined.

     She was so soft and so small and so … Well, he wasn't quite sure what she tasted like, since he'd never tasted anything before, but he liked how she tasted. He started moving his hips against hers as they continued to kiss, and X whined at the feeling of his stiff cock teasing her still sensitive clit. “M-Miguel!” 

     He picked her up and set her on his hips, thoroughly enjoying the relief that her slick p*ssy was bringing him. No other sensation could possibly beat the feeling of him moving against her like this. But then he started easing himself inside of her, his thick cock stretching out her tight little p*ssy, and ay, Dios, he was wrong, he was so, so wrong: this was the feeling that no other could beat.

     “M-Miguel!” She squirmed around, trying to accommodate the large bulk of him - holy shit, he was big! - and finally, he was all the way inside of her, buried up to his balls. She sighed at the feeling.

     ¡Santo cielo, she felt so f*cking good! He started rolling his hips against hers, his movements slow and careful as he practised his coordination. It took a while, but he'd soon set a steady pace, his cock thrusting into her deeply and rhythmically.

     “M-Miguel …” Holy shit! Holy shit, he felt amazing! “What if … someone comes in?”

     It took him a while to split his attention so that he could speak around the intense pleasure he was feeling, but he figured it out eventually. “I already locked the door, querida.”

     “N-No. I mean …” She flopped over onto his shoulder, her mind going blank as a wave of arousal hit her at the feeling of his thick cock squelching in and out of her. “What if someone … comes in the room … and sees that we’re … not there?”

     She hunched over as her cervix contracted with desire and Miguel let out a choked gasp at the feeling. ¡Ay, carajo! ¡Mierda, that felt good! He couldn’t wait to feel her coming around him, her small little p*ssy squeezing him tight. “Tell them you’re helping me urinate.”

     X let out a low moan as her p*ssy started throbbing even harder around his cock. Shit, he felt so, so nice. He pumped himself in and out of her a few more times, then finally he was coming inside of her, his warm c*m shooting into her and painting her walls. Her body tightened at the delicious sensation, then she was coming too. Miguel braced himself on the wall as he hunched over her, trying to keep himself upright.

“F*ck!” The word came out as a whimper, so turned on was he by the feeling of her squeezing him tight. He relaxed once she was done, but remained curled over her, needing a moment to catch his breath.

     “Miguel …” X waited until he looked up at her before continuing. “We should probably get cleaned up. Before they bring dinner?”      

He hesitated, not wanting to let her go just yet - not when she felt so good around him. But then he sighed and pulled back, allowing her to get back on her feet. She waddled over to the shower, his c*m dripping between her thighs, and he grabbed her waist and squeezed her at the sight. She giggled at his enthusiasm and turned on the shower, letting the warm water rain down on them, then she reached for the soap to start cleaning him up.

Tags: @jadeloverxd @migshusben

#atsv miguel #miguel spiderman #miguel x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel fanfic #miguel smut #miguel x oc #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #miguel x you #ai miguel #ai miguel x reader #miguel x y/n #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara x oc #spiderman x reader #miguel o'hara #spiderman x oc #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x you #spiderman 2099 fanfiction #spiderman 2099 smut #spiderman 2099 spiderverse

[peanut-butter-parkerxx]

a reminder that you guys can request anything you like by the google form here!! so PLEASE get creative with your ideas ;)

#peter parker #fluff #imagines #marvel #peter parker fluff #jj maybank #peter parker x reader #jj #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x fem #elijah mikaelson x female reader #elijah mikaelson #jj maybankxreader #jj mayback x reader #jj mayback imagine #the originals #outerbanks #spiderman x oc #spiderman x you #across the spiderverse #spiderman #jj fluff #jj x reader fluff #tom holland fluff #smut #oneshot #x reader #angst

[liz-allyn]

sugar and vice, pt 2 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!reader]

summary: Peter makes a daring rescue to save Honey. Or is this a rescue at all? more shameless trope pining.

words: 5.5k

warnings: mob-typical violence. whump. hurt/comfort. bandaging wounds. ouchy hurt boo boo. lots of crying. references to assault. someone gets tortured. shameless forced proximity trope. imprisonment. slowest burn. a dash of questionable and/or morally grey intentions.

you're responsible for your own content consumption. but that being said, if you're too young to remember the ipod nano, this aint for you, chief.

Back to Part 1

Part 2

How many state capitals can you name?

Montgomery. Juneau. Phoenix. Little Rock.

She was running out of questions to distract herself. She’d already gone through listing all of Stephen King’s novels. All of the Presidents. All of the elements of the Periodic Table. She was running out of distractions.

Sacramento. Denver. Hartford. Dover.

She’d been to Delaware once for a funeral. The whole state was a graveyard. She was going to be killed and who would be at her funeral? Would her dark-eyed friend be the one to murder her?

Tampa. Atlanta. Honolulu. Fuck! Tallahassee, not Tampa… Montgomery. Juneau. Phoenix. Little Rock. Sacramento—

Would he make it quick? Would it be him or would it be one of the people from the car? Did he know the two men that took her from the train? Did he order them to take her? Then what was that gunfire? Why did it seem like they were running?

She didn’t know how much time had passed since she had been brought to a room, sat down, and left alone under the dark of the hood obscuring her vision. Heated but hushed voices echoed from the other side of a wall. They were too muffled to comprehend, but the frantic frustration was unmistakable.

She could barely make out the words.

“She’s a liability now, Parker! Where’s she gonna go?”

Her heart felt like it would burst from her chest. The conversation got quieter.

Montgomery. Juneau. Phoenix. Little Rock. Sacramento. Denver. 

The sound of a door lock startled her. Her body went rigid as a door opened wide. She swallowed hard, unable to get the image of the gun in Peter’s grip out of her mind. Heavy footsteps approached her. Her lip quivered beneath the hood. If the shot was coming, maybe it was better for it to come now. Maybe it was better if she didn’t see it coming.

The hood came off of her head, revealing a dark room only illuminated by a window. The night lights of the city skyline sparkled in the distance. She was on a sofa—a loveseat facing a desk. As far as she could tell, she was in some sort of office or study. And crouched down in front of her, was her dangerous friend.

Peter held his hands up in a placating manner, letting the hood drop to the floor. “Don’t cry, Honey. It’s just me.”

The sweetness of his voice made her heart beat faster. She cursed the treacherous bitch for allowing that to happen, after everything.

Just him. As if that was supposed to mean anything. Is he Peter, or is he Ben? Does it matter which one he’d tell her? And what other option did she have to respond, other than crying? Her mouth was still taped shut.

He studied her features in a way that made her squirm. His face was solemn as he considered her. He huffed a sigh. “I know you don’t have any reason to trust me,” he declared in an apologetic tone. His cocoa eyes glistened with regret. “You’re probably feelin’ angry with me right now. I get that. You’ve been nothin’ but sweet to me and I... I—” 

He stopped short of finishing the sentence as if his jaw locked up. A wrinkle creased his brow. He glanced down at the floor, then looked back up at her. “I’m gonna ask you to do somethin’ for me,” he began. “You don’t have any reason to owe me anything, I see that, I do. I don’t have the right to ask. But I’m still gonna ask.”

A hand came up to rub the back of his neck. The gesture made him seem more anxious, more boyish. Not the same man that marched into the garage holding a gun. Not the same man that ordered his man to blindfold her.

“You’ve always been patient with me,” he continued, dancing around a topic he didn’t want to address. “Even when I’m not my best. I need you to be patient with me now. Take a chance on me, Honey.”

Her heart skipped a beat. She really wished it wouldn’t do that.

He gazed at her, lowering his voice to an even more soothing tone. He emanated calm and control. “I’m gonna help you off the sofa, then we’re gonna leave this room,” he said. “We’re goin’ to the last door at the end of the hallway, okay? Nod if you understand.”

She stared at him like a deer in the crosshairs. After a moment, she nodded.

“Okay, good,” he replied. He reached for her. “Easy now.”

He put his hands around her upper arms and attempted to lift her weight from beneath her shoulders. A flash of pain erupted like her deltoids were on fire, and she winced and whimpered behind the tape.

Immediately, he pulled back his hands with a sour look. An edge of irritation returned to his eyes, in a way she’d remembered from the coffee shop when those goons showed up, except now they were alone and that look was rendered at her. Or so she thought.

Tears welling up again, she avoided his gaze. She sank further into the couch, as if that was even possible, and shook like a leaf. He stood before her wordlessly. She could only hear a heavy exhale through flared nostrils.

Seconds passed, then Peter bent at the waist, placing his hands on her hips. She shuddered at the pressure, the warmth and width of his hands on the crest of her hips. He held her in a steady grip, bringing her to her feet, this time with less pain. 

Upon standing, she looked up and locked eyes with him. It stilled his motion, and he stood with her pressed up against his chest, looking down at her with darkening eyes. His body was solid mass through his white dress shirt. It occurred to her that she’d never seen him without a coat before. Her heart was fluttering, and she wondered if he could feel it. She felt suddenly pliant, legs turning into rubber. 

Dizzy, she wavered a bit, blinking her eyes rapidly. It could’ve been the adrenaline spiking again, building pressure rising up beneath her skin. Perhaps it was her lack of real food since her distant lunch. Perhaps it was heat stroke, the way his gaze burned into hers.

He gripped her tighter. Swallowed hard.

Reluctantly, he released his hold, moving a hand to her lower back. “C’mon.”

She gulped. Hesitantly, she let him lead her to the door. Once they went through the doorway, he escorted her down the hall just as he had said. It was dark, but she could see light from beneath the closed door at the end of the hall.

Her boots felt heavy again. Her mind was screaming at her to run, but where would she go? 

“S’okay,” he stated softly, reading the slowing of her steps for what it was. “Almost there.”

He brought her to the solid door, twisting the handle and opening it. The only thing her brain could register was a massive king-sized bed in the middle of the room. She pushed back on his palm, attempting to wrench away from him. He grabbed her from behind, his arms holding her in place.

“Easy, easy, s’okay,” he tutted. 

But she was short-circuiting. Her mind was filled with violent images, clouding her sense of reason. A shriek crawled up her throat, desperately clawing at the adhesive of the duct tape over her mouth. 

“Hey, s’okay, it’s okay!”  He was holding her against the brick wall of his chest again. She shook her head desperately, struggling to break free to no avail. She could feel his heartbeat against her back. 

He pressed his cheek against her temple, his arms pulling her in with crushing strength that lifted her feet from the floor. “Enough!” he snapped, with a shockingly harsh tone. 

The simple admonishment made her go limp. She sobbed desperately.

His head fell backward and he let out a long sigh, frustration evident within him. He softened his grip, and instead of pinning her, it felt much more like an embrace. He bent his neck and his lips went to her temple again, his breath hot on her skin.

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” he breathed into her hair. She felt the slow rise and fall from his chest. The kindness had returned to his voice. He took another deep breath, and she felt it reverberate in her. “No one is gonna hurt you,” he declared, more authoritative this time. She matched her next breath to his. 

They stood in silence for another few seconds. Her gaze traveled from the bed to the expanse of the room. The dark colors and modern accents. The yellow source of tungsten light spilled from an open doorway. 

“Now we’re gonna walk forward. Into the bathroom.”

He began to walk forward, and her feet moved in accordance. After the first few concordant steps, he loosened his grip on her. She felt the absence of his body heat as they stepped onto a tiled floor, turning a corner to a grand bathroom bigger than her meager apartment bedroom.

It was stunning; a mix of classic beauty and masculinity. Adorned with black marble, gold fixtures, and subway tile. Her eyes soaked up the details with an unintentional gasp. Inappropriately, she wished for her phone to save the image to the Pinterest board of her bathroom dreams.

“It’s okay,” he gently reminded her. Hearing his voice pulled her back to her reality. Her eyes snapped over her shoulder, up to him, then back forward as they approached a freestanding clawfoot tub filled with steaming water.

Her feet got heavy again and he turned her to face him. She looked up at him with a face full of confusion and betrayal. It only seemed to sour him further.

“I need you to trust me, remember?” Peter said to her. “I’m gonna take off the tape, but I need you to get in the water first.”

She felt her head shaking. Tears streaming.

“It’s the tape,” he explained. “Your skin is already reacting to it. If I try to pull it off now, it’ll take your skin with it.” She quirked a brow up at him. “We’re gonna use the soapy water to soak the tape on your wrists. The stuff on your mouth, I have a solvent for.”

She blinked, looked at the water, and back up to him.

“You don’t have to undress or anything,” he answered, again reading her mind with stunning accuracy. “We can take off your boots and you can step right in if you don’t mind getting your clothes wet.” She watched the Adam’s apple bob in his throat. “I’m not gonna try anything,” he whispered quietly, “I swear.”

She lost herself in his eyes again. She studied the honey of his irises, a golden glow enhanced by the vanity lamps. She thought of caramel and chocolate and bourbon. And the tang of oranges, the smokey smell and flavor of an Old Fashioned she had three years ago at The Flatiron Room on an otherwise disappointing date—

“You with me?” he spoke so softly it could be a croon. Brought his hands up and she felt the rough pads of his thumbs brushing away her tears.

Her eyelashes fluttered closed at the sensation. That dizzy feeling hit her again, and she tried to swallow it down. When her eyes opened, she saw her friend staring back at her, the shadow of a smile adorning his face.

She spent too long gazing up at him like he was some sort of Prince Charming. Composing herself, she straightened and gave him a nod.

Having gathered her meaning, he responded with a subtle smirk, before putting it away. Slowly, he lowered himself to his knees in front of her, never breaking eye contact. The action made her stomach weak. Made her avert her eyes. He deftly began untying the laces of her boots and braced her lower back to pull off her shoes. 

Though he didn’t request it, she peeled her wool socks off next. She could have wet jeans and a wet shirt, but wet socks made her skin crawl. Once her bare feet were on the tiled floor, he came to a stand. He placed his hands on her shoulders to steady her as she stepped into the deep tub. 

The warm water felt instantly soothing as she lowered herself into it. Her hands prickled with the sensation of the hot water reheating her abused limbs. He was right about her skin—she hissed at an immediate sting where the tape was. The thought of ripping off the duct tape over her mouth as fast as possible seemed more unpleasant.

She sat down with arms bound behind her, looking up at him as he sat beside the tub.

“The soap’s gonna help dissolve the adhesive,” he explained, pulling up a tray within his reach. A mass of dry cotton balls, cotton swabs, and gauze was neatly organized on it, next to several bottles of solution. It was bizarrely efficient. It made her wonder how many times he’d done this before.

He went to work, rolling up the arms of his sleeves up to his elbows. She pulled her eyes away from the sight of his toned forearms. 

His fingers went to her face and she couldn’t help but flinch. He made note of it, lips pursed into a straight line, but said nothing. Slower, he reached for her hairline and a razor-sharp sting of her flesh reminded her that she had taken at least one good hit to the face. 

His burnt-auburn eyes were now focused, a line forming in his brow as he studied a blood-crusted cut she couldn’t see. 

“This one’s deep,” he said with a frown. “It’ll need liquid stitches. I’mma take care of this first before it gets worse.” His hands left her sensitive flesh as he came to a stand, moving across the bathroom into a medicine cabinet where more first-aid supplies were located. 

While his back was turned, she rolled her eyes in frustration. The tape on her mouth was clearly the more pressing issue. 

“Can you bear with me a couple of minutes before I take the tape off?” he asked perceptively. It was starting to get creepy. He sat down beside her again. “Just relax. It’ll be easier to do it now.” He dabbed a cotton ball with alcohol. “And it’ll be harder for you to bite me.”

Her eyes darted to his face, her body tensing. She had bitten one of her captors hard enough to draw blood. He busied himself with cleaning and dressing the wound while she pondered the possibility that Peter had been behind her kidnapping earlier in the evening.

That neck-less, ginger bastard – Katz? – dragged her off the train without any regard for whether or not she felt safe. Particularly right before he knocked her out. Did he work for Peter? She hadn’t seen his face since.

“Your heart’s racing,” he informed her, breaking her chain of thought. He swallowed hard, a solemn look plastered firmly on his face. “I wasn’t lying when I said no one was going to hurt you.” His eyes rested on the wound as he delicately pinched her flesh together. “Not again,” he sighed, disappointed.

A few seconds passed as he carefully coated the cut in the liquid stitch solution. He looked pained, increasingly irritated. “I’m sorry about all this,” he blurted out. “I-I never shoulda come back to see you. I... I-I’m sorry about everything. Never meant for any of this to happen.” His sad eyes found hers. “‘Sorry’ doesn’t mean much, I know. But I hope you believe me.”

She stared. Considering. Decided that she did. She had to. Tied up, sitting waist-deep in this strange man’s bathtub, she had nothing else but her hope.

He took a cotton swab and dipped it in a jar of pristine petroleum jelly. One hand delicately lifted her chin, angling her face upward toward him, as he took a corner of the tape at her mouth and began to work the petroleum beneath the strip. He meticulously followed that action with a warm, wet compress, and then a cotton ball of isopropyl alcohol. The tape hurt as it slowly gave way, but less than it could’ve. 

The peaceful silence gave her time for her brain to slow down. Time to think. Time to plan. Time to question those plans. Question her judgment.

“Alright, almost done,” he said, then gave a small tug on the tape. The moment her lips were unsealed she took a deep breath. She hadn’t realized how much her breathing had been restricted. 

Peter reached back for her with a square of medical-grade adhesive remover. 

“Don’t touch me,” she spat, jerking her head out of his reach. He froze immediately, lifting his hands away where she could see them. Behind her, she pulled and tugged on the duct tape, the glue now having partially dissolved. She winced as she pulled her wrists apart.

“I was gonna get to that—”

She bit down on a yelp at the burn of the tape ripping off, taking bits of hair and drops of blood with it. She pulled her arms in front of her, revealing angry red welts on her wrists. Her shoulders felt like a stretched-out rubber band, tender to each movement. 

“Okay,” he nodded bitterly, frustration poking through. “Tape’s off. You’re bleeding. Well done—”

“Stay away from me!” she barked. She scooted back as far as she could away from him in the bathtub. Her eyes were wide and wild, like she really could bite him at any moment. He sat back on his ankles, staring at her. Displeased. 

“Take it easy,” he softly ordered, cool as ever.

“I-I don’t know who you are or-or what you’re into,” she babbled frantically. “But you—you better lemme go!” She panted heavily, words flowing out of her mouth, “My-my boyfriend is a cop! He tracks my phone. He’ll know I didn’t come home and-and when he turns on the tracker, he’ll see that I’m here... and he’ll bring fifty cops with him!”

Peter stared at her flatly, raising a brow. It was clear by his reaction that he wasn’t impressed. “Fifty?” he repeated, deadpan. “That’s a lot. Where’re they gonna park?”

“I’m serious!” she growled.

“Oh, yea-yeah, I know,” Peter nodded, pulling himself into a crouch at the tub. “This boyfriend of yours,” he added, swallowing grit as he said it, “he got a name?”

She blinked. “Jefferson.”

“Jefferson?”

“Scott.”

“Is it Scott or is it Jefferson? Is it Jefferson Scott?”

His mocking tone filled her with a flash of anger. She seethed, swearing at herself not to cry again. “Let me go!” she demanded with a glare. “And I promise, he won’t kill you when he finds me!”

The humor evaporated from his eyes like a droplet of water in a frying pan. “A promise?” Peter repeated, his cocky smile fading. He went motionless. Eyes dark. A chill shot down her spine. “Where was ‘Jefferson’ when Fisk’s men grabbed you tonight?” She swallowed hard. Refused to blink. “Really coulda used his help,” he bit off.

Her heart was beating faster than before. Pounding like a kickdrum beneath her ribs. His blackened eyes narrowed on her. “Do you have any idea,” he questioned bitterly, “what they would’ve done t’ya? If I hadn’t gotten there first?” 

The calm tone of his overt implications made her queasy again. He cocked his head to the side, waiting for a reply. 

She gulped. Steadied her voice. “Who's to say they don’t work for you?” 

“They don’t work for me,” Peter declared, ice in his eyes. 

“You expect me to believe—”

“They don’t work for me,” he repeated, as serious as a heart attack, “because I don’t employ assholes who beat on women.” He leaned forward, his chest puffing up, his words coming out in a low hiss. “Because if I want something done, I do it myself. Especially when it comes to protecting what’s mine.” His eyes narrowed, “And we both know you don’t have a boyfriend.” 

She blinked at him, dumbstruck. Peter declared through gritted teeth, “You could send fifty cops or fifty-thousand. If someone took my girl, I’d get there first. And there’s not a damn thing you could say to keep me from rippin’ him apart.”

She shifted backward, arms wrapped tightly around her body, stunned by the switch in demeanor. He sat across from her, quietly glaring, chest heaving with pent-up rage. Her throat felt tight. Her pulse pounded in her neck.

Seconds passed as they gazed at each other in a stalemate. He was the first to look away, his breathing conscientiously slowing down. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, keeping his head turned away from her sight.

“Don’t lie to me,” Peter said, finally. “Ever.” He looked up at her, eyes a bit softer. “It’s very important that you never lie to me. When people lie to me, it puts me at a disadvantage. Makes it harder for me to protect the people I care about.” He sniffed, stowing his emotional baggage from earlier. “So please,” he gently requested, “don’t lie.”

He kept his eyes downward as if he was more interested in the state of the grout. She had witnessed him rear up like a cobra and now he was slinking away, sheepishly hiding from her gaze. 

There was that word again — protection. His focus is protecting the people he cares about. Protecting what’s his. She eyed him carefully, her muscles relaxing a bit. This was happening because she was a threat to him. Did that mean in some way, she had power over him? 

He wiped his nose with his forearm, still avoiding her eyes. “You hurt anywhere else?” She blinked up at him, confused. Her silence made him meet her gaze again, and this time the sympathy and remorse had returned. “Anywhere I can’t see?”

She stiffened once she caught his meaning. Breaking eye contact, she gazed down at the tiny bubbles coating the surface of the water. “Um... no.” She answered as honestly as she could. “I don’t... I don’t think so.” The statement felt like a lump in her throat. She felt her eyes burn again, and she angrily dared her body to defy her again. She couldn’t handle it.

“Okay,” he nodded. After a moment, he came to a quick stand. His orders flowed more formally. “There are towels over here. There’s a robe on the door. Cat’s gettin’ you some clothes. Should be here soon. Leave the wet stuff on the edge of the tub. When you’re done in here, come outside of the bedroom. I’ve got one more thing I need from you tonight, Honey.”

He turned on the leather sole of his heel and disappeared from her sight, as fast as ever. She sat in the rapidly cooling water of the tub, tenderly rubbing the swollen flesh of her wrists. She listened to his footsteps diminish. The door slammed, a bit too forcefully.

Alone, finally, she allowed herself to cry again.

About fifteen minutes after being left alone, she emerged from the main bedroom with a thick white terry robe blanketing her. With nothing but her thoughts and growing exhaustion, she decided not to keep Peter waiting too long. She’d completed each task on his list, as a good houseguest should. Or whatever she was.

She found him leaning back against the wall in the darkened hallway, hands in his pockets, musing quietly.  He turned to look at her with a much calmer mood. Both of them cooled off from their earlier spat, but an awkwardness remained. An elephant in the room neither of them wanted to address.

“C’mere,” Peter beckoned, jerking his head down the hall. “I wanna show you something.” He turned and approached a flight of stairs, descending it. She had no other option but to follow. 

They reached the main level of the residence where she took in the sight of an open-floor living room and kitchen surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows. Though it was night, this was the most well-lit area she had seen. It was spotless, and carried the same modern, refined-industrial aesthetic that she saw in the bathroom. 

She recognized the lanky teenager on the couch, sitting with arms crossed, head bobbing to music blaring out of over-the-ear headphones. Miles sat quietly in his own world, brow furrowed, as he focused on the beat of the music. 

Tapping away at her smartphone, the silver-haired woman from the car ride paced idly. She was even more gorgeous in person. Peter approached her, hands in his pockets, and nodded in Miles’ direction.

“What, is it time for a siesta?” Peter muttered disapprovingly.

The woman gave him a go-to-hell look. “Lay off, will ya? You know how he gets.”

“We need to keep our eyes open,” Peter responded grimly. “That means on alert, Felicia.”

“Jesus Christ, Parker,” she groaned with a petulant sigh. “Seriously?” The woman, Felicia, looked up incredulously at their houseguest, then back to her boss. “What happened to discretion? You wanna give her my social security number, too?”

“Where’s O’Hara?” Peter replied.

She rolled her eyes, dropping her arms. “Fuck it, then. In the basement with Brock. That’s Eddie Brock, if anyone here is taking notes for the FBI.” She turned, minding her phone again. “If you need me, I’ll be keepin’ my eyes open, with your credit card, waiting for the Postmates guy to deliver your lady friend a new wardrobe.” 

Peter rolled his eyes with a light scoff.

“And just for that, I’m buying myself my Christmas present from Fendi,” she called back, a deadpan tone. “Thanks, Boss. You really shouldn’t have.” 

Peter glanced over at his Honey, who was curiously watching the familial interaction in silence. He jerked his chin again, approaching a metal door frame near the foyer. “This way.”

He tapped a button on the wall, calling up an elevator. She shuffled uncomfortably on her bare feet, but then followed him into the tiny space. They stood together in silence as the elevator descended. 

Once it opened, they were in a dark, dingy, brick-laid fortress, a stark contrast from the exquisite rooms above. He stepped out of the elevator, and hesitantly, she followed, wishing she’d put on her boots. 

The space felt claustrophobic, littered with dust-covered junk. Mostly paper boxes. There was a table with an old computer that looked at least 30 years old, surrounded by glass beakers and antiquated lab equipment. She spotted a retro green chalkboard on castors, half-shrouded in a tarp. 

As much distance as she wanted to put between herself and Peter, she also crowded at his back. She felt cobwebs brushing her ankles, and the sensation made her want to fold herself up like origami.

They turned a corner and she froze. Mouth agape with horror. 

Bound and gagged in the middle of the basement was Katz. The man looked rough. Barely conscious. His face was bruised, bloodied, and jagged, the bones having been broken and rearranged. On either side, Miguel and another thick mass of man—Eddie Brock for anyone taking notes for the FBI—stood by. She watched Eddie anxiously as he wiped his hands with a blood-stained shop rag.

The sight of tortured man made her gag. Tears sprang to her eyes as she glanced away in terror.

“S’Okay,” Peter tutted, taking her by the shoulders and keeping her back to their tortured captive. She was grateful for that kindness, as it spared her the sight of the half-dead man.

“Remember I told you that you could trust me?” Peter asked, tilting his head towards her. She was gasping. Sucked in air, like a fish out of water. “Honey, look at me.” 

Her stomach quaked and she worried that she’d vomit. Despite this, she looked up at him. Once he had her attention, he went on. 

“This man works for somebody very dangerous,” he explained slowly. “He had direct orders to kidnap you and take you to one of his places. A mechanic’s shop near the docks on the Lower East Side that he uses for business. Once they had you there, he and a bunch of his friends were supposed to hurt you.”

Her chest heaved violently, tears flooding her vision. She shook her head and tried looking away. Felt faint. Like she was going to pass out. Gently, Peter hooked his fingertips beneath her chin, bringing her gaze to his.

“They were ordered to take pictures,” he softly added, more gentle with his choice of words, “and send them to me.” A heartbroken sob escaped her lips and he winced, as if the sound alone caused him physical pain. “Listen, listen, listen,” he cooed, shushing her. 

He dipped his head, leaning his forehead against hers. It was intimate. Too close for the relationship that they had, but at the same time, she was starving for it. The sensation of his warm skin against hers, the heat of his lungs ghosting on her face—they worked to ground her. She focused on what was happening and not what could have happened.

“I never got any pictures,” Peter explained tenderly. “He says they never got that far.” She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, her chin quivering. She leaned into the touch of his thumb gently stroking her jaw. When she could open her eyes again, she found his. His cocoa orbs gazing down at her compassionately. 

“Remember what I said about lies?” he asked with a kind voice. “Remember I asked you never to lie to me?”

Another quiet sob whimpered out. She nodded her head.

“Tell me the truth now, Honey,” he said. He lifted his forehead, gazing into her soul. “Is that the man that hit you?”

She shuddered at the memory. Terror gripping her. Heart pounding.

“Words, Honey,” he tutted gently. “I need you to say it. Tell me the truth.”

“Yes,” she whimpered in reply. She brought her hands up to cover her face, but he wouldn’t allow it. 

“Good girl,” he answered. “You don’t need to hide.”

The tears kept coming. “I can’t.... I can’t—”

“S’okay, we’re almost done,” he cooed, bringing a hand up to stroke her hair. “Now this part’s really important. I want you to think. I don’t want you to be afraid. Just think.” 

She cried even harder. Her body swayed. She felt like a lone tree being pummeled by a hurricane. As much as she wanted to collapse, he held her upright. “Please,” she begged, but she wasn’t sure what for. “I don’t want... I can’t...”

He wrapped his hands around her cheeks, his fingers reaching around her head. “Just look at me, Honey,” he replied. 

Sniffing hard, she complied. He looked at her with an expression she couldn’t decode. It was a blend of anger, sadness, and pain all at once. He swallowed hard, as if he was trying to steady himself.

“Tell me the truth,” he said with a voice void of its own breath. “Did this man, or any of the other men, hurt you?” She shook her head rapidly. “Did they touch you?”

“No,” she sobbed.

“Don’t lie—”

“No!” she shouted desperately. 

He exhaled slowly, letting out a breath he’d been holding. “Good,” he nodded, seeming to relax. His hands rubbed her arms, taking extra care around her shoulders. “That’s good.”

“Boss,” a voice called from behind them. She looked beyond Peter to see Miles standing anxiously near the elevator entrance. He wore a hollow expression. Breathed through his mouth only. “You think she could use some sleep?”

Peter gazed at the younger man, a mixture of grief and gratitude. “Yeah,” he nodded, blinking away tears that had begun to form at his lashes. “That’s a good idea. Take her upstairs, wouldya?”

Miles nodded once, and stepped forward. Hesitantly, Peter let go. Honey shot out of his arms like a spooked cat, clinging to Miles’ chest and burying her face there. Vicious sobs racked through her body. Miles placed a hand on her back and led her back out of the basement.

Peter watched her go sadly. Didn’t turn away until he heard the elevator doors close.

“So,” Eddie’s deep voice chimed in, fixing his grim blue-green eyes on Peter. “What now?”

Both Miguel and Eddie watched the tense curve of Peter’s shoulders. The balling of his fists. 

“Hammer,” he replied, voice as dark as night. Peter turned and stalked toward the captive. He snatched a bloodied hammer off a workbench nearby. Eyes widening with fear, Katz began to jerk in his seat, pulling desperately on his restraints. 

“You should be grateful, Nicky,” Peter sneered, acid in his voice. “This coulda gone another way.” He loomed over the captive, eyes blacker than oil, nostrils flaring. He gripped the handle so hard, it’s a wonder it didn’t snap in his hand.

“If I found out you were lyin’ to me,” Peter said, vengeance coating his voice, “I woulda gone for the pruning shears.”

Continue to Part 3

Back to Part 1.

A/N - Reblog to be tagged.

Every time you reblog, it supports free fandom writing. Thank you for your support!

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

[platonic-tony-stark]

Y/n: oh god I'm so full

Peter: I could puke

Both: *looking at Tony*

Tony: don't look at me I just paid, it was a buffet

#marvel #tony stark #best friends #stark #tony #tonystark #platonic tony stark x reader #platonic tony stark #iron man incorrect quotes #iron man imagine #iron man x reader #iron dad #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peterparker #peter parker #spiderman x you #spiderman x oc #spiderman x reader #spiderman

[tablefourtwo]

if you’re too shy (let me know) (pp)

inspired by this euphoria scene. peter helps his longtime crush take nudes that are meant for someone else. angst, tension, thirdwheel!peter. [0.9k]

from fighting back against his long term bully, eugene ‘flash’ thompson, to taking down giant lizards, this was probably the most life threatening, hazardous situation peter has ever gotten himself into. he should honestly be dead by now considering how long he’s been holding his breath in for.

if you’re too shy (let me know) by the 1975 plays in the background while he makes this assumption, soothingly and absently, as if it’s mocking peter. he almost forgets his current position. almost. peter’s on his knees in front of your bed, watching, eyes glazed over, as you reposition yourself above him.

“i feel like that’s good.” you mumble, wrapping your hand around his own that was currently holding your phone at an upward angle. “does it look real? does it look like i’m taking it?” you smiled, eyes wide and still directed at the phone camera.

peter smiles back for a moment before realising that your smile, tight, with your pearly whites exposed, wasn’t for him. no, these were for someone peter didn’t even know the name of, he tries to remember if he even bothered asking.

“maybe try to loosen up a bit, but straighten up your posture, still.” peter tries to smirk, right corner of his lip forcibly pulled up into a desperate attempt at hiding what he truly felt. what he didn’t even know he felt.

there’s something about your stare that makes peter nervous and makes him say things that he doesn’t mean. like just now— you looked perfect and the mystery man on your phone would be lucky enough to even receive one of these photos in the first place.

peter tenses at the thought, god i sound like a simp. serves you right for agreeing to do this, he thinks.

“are you okay? your hand is like— really warm.” your eyes meet his. “no- yeah, yeah, yeah. that’s good. um, maybe tilt your head down a bit.” peter suggested, his other hand that wasn’t under yours motioning at his own chin.

you hummed, muttering a “good call, that angle probably wasn’t doing it for me.” while leaning your head down a bit, eyes meeting the phone lense once again.

peter wanted to say something along the lines of ‘no angle could possibly do that.’ or ‘every angle does it for you.’ but decided against it, considering the fact that you were probably already uncomfortable.

“make me look good.” you mumbled, biting your lips subtlety for the camera. “always.” peter scoffs jokingly, desperately trying to loosen up in his awkward position.

you were in your nicest bra, a baby pink victoria secret one that you contemplated buying for a while. the dainty undergarment had a small heart shaped golden charm tied into it that produced a soft and dreamy glare in front of the camera.

meeting your own eyes in your vanity mirror, the unease finally caught up to you. “this is a really bad angle for me.” “no it isn’t, shut up.” peter murmurs back but his eyes betray his unbothered façade, quickly lifting up to yours, ready to stop the second you get uncomfortable. “how do i turn on grids on this?” peter jokes, hoping to get to see your pretty smile again.

he gets what he wants because a second later you bark out a laugh. “grids? peter this isn’t vogue.” you grin, and the nerdy joke, peter decides, was 100% worth it when he looks up and realises that your gaze is on him.

it takes a moment for him to snakily retort back.

“okay, excuse me for not making this another one of your blurry, horizontal snapchats where you can barley see anything. i’m an artist, you know. i have to hold myself up to a standard. even if they are your nudes.” peter hopes that the lighthearted joke will throw you off on how rigid he was being, and if you hadn’t been throwing your head back laughing at his sarcasm, you would’ve noticed the deep flush in his cheeks.

“you’re such a dork.” you jabbed, lifting the corners of your lips while doing so. “the baby my neighbour paid me to shoot was a better model than you.” he retorts back. and for a while, it’s intimate, the situation. it’s almost something romantic, and peter thinks it’s worth being the third wheel to you and the mystery man on your phone if it means you’re going to smile and laugh at every one of his jokes and looks.

“do you want a couple with portrait mode on?” he jokes, for what he presumes is the forth time. god, parker, give it a rest, he thinks. finally lowering your phone and exiting the camera app. his repetition doesn’t stop you from giggling. “fuck off.”

he hands your phone to you and you move to lay on your stomach, while you scroll through the photos. “wait this one actually looks like i took it.” you look up at peter, grinning. “right?” he’s still on the floor, gaze dreamy, when he replies; “yeah.”

“these are amazing. thanks, pete.” you pick out your favourite one and send it to the mystery man before getting up to put your shirt back on, feeling peter’s eyes on you the whole time.

“are you checking me out?” you laugh, pulling your shirt over your head. the tension between you two materialising as heat in your cheeks.

peter scoffs, “you wish.” thanking god that your shirt was over your head to miss the fact that his eyes were momentarily bulging out of his head.

peter could get used to this, to you, and the sense of intimacy that was involved in being around you.

ding!

“peter, he replied!”

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