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cupcakeinat0r · 1 month

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Thinkin' abt DadBod!Miguel at the gym <3

You'd been going to the gym routinely, or at least trying to. You decided to go after working up the courage and convincing yourself that this was just for fun. That your body was your temple, and you were tending to it, no matter how it looked <3

The first week wasn't so bad. After embarrassingly tripping on equipment or accidentally dropping weights here and there, it was alright! Though at times, it was still difficult to stay consistent, until one day, you saw him.

Over on the other side of the gym, curling some dumbbells (100s, mind you), was a total 6-foot, thick, hairy dream of a man. You first noticed his chiseled face adorned by fine lines, locks of black hair framing it. With each draw of the weights, his biceps bulged. Beads of sweat trickled down his bulky chest and wide shoulders. When your eyes wander downward, you're surprised to not find washboard abs.

Oh no, what you find instead excites you even more than any pack of abs could offer you.

Your mouth waters slightly to find that his tank top has ridden up slightly over his hefty belly, graciously allowing a peek at a happy trail, its path sadly blocked by some basketball shorts (his cute bubble butt and giant dick print made up for it tho).

Despite his low, breathy grunts and intense crimson gaze towards his own reflection, he was making it look easy. You thought about how easy it'd probably be for him to carry you bride-style and throw you onto a bed before spreading your legs with those enormous hands so he could feast until your eyes crossed. Or how it'd be effortless for him to hold you tightly with your legs wrapped around that stocky midsection of his while he bullied his-

"'scuse me, you waiting for this bench?" a deep voice snaps you out of a daydream. You see the man is now looking at you with what looks like a knowing smirk. Fuck, he noticed you staring.

"Oh! N-no, was just looking for the 10s!" You blurt, evoking a velvety chuckle and dashing smile from him.

"Right over there." He motions with his chin toward the weight rack where the 10s are obviously displayed. After you thanked him, He smiled and nodded back to you, turning back toward the mirror to do his last set.

The second week felt like no problem. Instead of dragging yourself to the gym, you looked forward to it, scanning for your new gym crush every time you entered.

You'd feel a lil surge of happiness when you do find him there, feeling brave enough to exchange smiles and sometimes even little waves from across the gym. One time, the older man made you swoon when he winked at you upon entering the gym. After seeing your cute reaction, this would be how he greeted you every time.

The third week came You're at the squat rack, feeling stronger than usual, so you opt to go the heaviest you've ever gone. Big mistake. By the third rep, you fail to get back up, panicking and legs shaking. Just when you feel yourself start to fall, you see a pair of hands dart toward the bar from behind you, lifting it with ease and allowing you to stand back up. The bar is re-racked and you turn to find gym bae.

"You okay?" he gently prompts, a worried look on his face.

"Yes, thank you... think I might've gone too heavy." you nervously chuckle. He does as well, seeing that you're alright.

"Next time you go for a PR, you need to ask for a spotter, hun." He gives you that dashing smile again, his hands on his love handles.

"Yeah, I probably should've," you lower your head in defeat, "I didn't bring anyone with me though."

"You could've asked me," He says matter of factly as if it should've been obvious that he should be the one to spot you. "I would've done it with no problem, mama." His pet names make your womanhood pulse.

You look back up at him, your lips curled into a shy smile.

"C'mon, let's try again." "No, no, mama, I got that, I'll put it away for you." "Keep your knees like this-theeeere you go. "Gimme one more, mama, just one more, you can do it." "Atta girl! Good job, mamita."

You learned that his name is Miguel. He'd become your designated spotter on leg days, the sensation of his larger frame against yours making you nervous in the best way.

Your favorite is when his tummy accidentally brushes against your back, and borderline, your ass, and if not his tummy, it'd be his prominent bulge (which isn't there bc he gets to spot the adorable girl with an amazing ass from the gym... totally not that).

On the Fourth week, Miguel would ask you if you wanted to be workout buddies altogether. Of course, you accept, in which he asks for your number so like that, he can text you when he's going and vice versa.

It's the fifth week, and you both have worked out together a couple times already. Miguel texted you in the morning asking if you'd like to join him, which you were totally down for.

You two started with lateral pull-downs. Once it was your turn, you sat on the machine and reached for the handle, pulling it as you began your set.

Anytime you felt like you wanted advice or correction, Miguel eagerly helped you.

His hands would stay on your waist, his warm breath tickling your ear. "Mhm, there you go, you're doin' so good, mama." He praises in almost a whisper.

If only he knew he was making the exercise only harder. As if that weren't enough, his finger would occasionally message your hip. Your bodies were so close that you were able to hear each satisfied hum from his lips, suggesting you were doing the exercise right.

"Good girl, that was better. You feel it now?" He says, letting go to let you off the machine.

"Yeah, thank you! When it comes to upper body, I'll need all the help I can get. I'm just glad I’m getting it from an upper-body master." You flirtatiously add, playfully poking at one of his biceps.

This makes him blush, but only for a moment before he returns with a cocky response, "Thanks, hun. I'm glad to be working out with a leg-day goddess."

Now it was your turn to blush, except you didn't have any smart comeback, boosting Miguel's ego.

"Listen, let me treat you to smoothie after this, yeah?" He says it more like a statement than a request, and you happily oblige.

What you were expecting was a simple, cheap smoothie from a spot you usually go to, but instead, you're met with a drive-thru menu listing shakes from $20 and up. Oh he got moneyyyy.

Miguel tells you to pick any that looks good to you. He orders for himself and you as well, parking the car once the two of you get the smoothies.

As he sips from the cup, you take the opportunity to subtly glance at his figure, his muscles, how his pecs sit beautifully on top of his soft belly, his thighs constrained by the confines of his gym shorts. You think how badly you wanna sit there, grinding on the print 'til there was a wet spot-

"Something on your mind, mama?" You look back at him, taking a few seconds to register his words.

You hastily look back down at your drink and shake your head, “Nothing… thank you so much for this, it’s delicious!”

then he grabs the shoulder of your chair to lean toward you, “Of course, mama, but I don’t think you’re being completely truthful with me, hm?”

You look at him, playfully shaking your head again, knowing full well you’ve been caught.

“What’s in that pretty lil head of yours, hm? dime.” He puts the smoothie into the cup holder to free his other hand, placing it on your thigh, and softly squeezes it. “Just say the word, and you’ll get anything you want.”

Your lips curl slyly as you think of a response.

“Well… we never did cardio.”

Now you were here in his car, being bounced on his fat dick on the passenger seat, holding onto his his big shoulders for dear life. You were basically his fleshlight at this point… with those big hands.

You could feel his body now taut against yours, your tits bouncing relentlessly, his muscled, thick thighs below your ass, his balls slapping against your pussy lips, his bush tickling your clit, his pelvis pushing your ass up and his curved belly against your front side. It all was sending you into euphoria.

With you vigorously bouncing on his cock and his beautiful moaning, you fully let go. “Aw yes, Daddy,“ you mumbled without thinking.

In fact, you couldn’t think at all. All you knew was this fat cock and your pussy was memorizing all its veins and curves.

“Mmfuck baby, yea, say that again f’me”, he groaned through gritted teeth as he mercilessly bounced you down his painfully hard shaft.

“Please, Daddy, please!” You whined with your hands desperately seeking support on his big shoulders.

You can feel the sheet of sweat on his belly and on his thighs, which turned the smacking of your ass sound even more lewd.

“Fuck, say it again.” He growled, getting faster now.

“Mmmm, Daddy— Daddy, pleaseeee.”

“Louder, baby, c’mon—“

“UNGH DADDYYYY”

“Oh FUCK… you wanted cardio, baby, I’ll give you cardio… fuckin’ take it… coño.” Your panting became synchronized with every pound of his cock into your abused and bruised cunt, getting higher and higher in pitch, firing him up to go faster and harder.

“Gonna cum on this fat cock, right? Gonna cum f’me, mami?” He ordered, dropping octaves from his usual gentle tone with you.

“Mmmnn, Nnyesyyesyesyes—“ you babbled, the shakiness of your voice the result of the aggressive bouncing.

“Ah… carajo…” his cock accidentally slips out from your cunt, making you wince from the sudden empty sensation, “ungh!”

Holding up your ass, he takes a moment to admire the view, hissing from the sight of his angrily red cock and veins pulsing from your cunt sucking him in so deliciously. A ring of your cream erotically placed at the base of his length, just above his perfect bush. He guides his fat tip back to your dripping cunt using his thumb, pushing it back into your swollen folds.

He was back to ramming into your abused cunt in no time, chasing each others high’s.

“C’mon…fuck, c’mon, mama, you’re almost there…. Aw f-fuck… almost there…” he moans with his brows knitted and through a clenched jaw.

“Daddy I’m g’na— I’m cummingimcummingimcumming—“

“Aw, fuck, asi— asi mami— ah, ah…” Miguel holds back choked whines as he get closer, not allowing himself to let go until he knew you came first.

You speak in gibberish before crying into your climax, Miguel letting out a long, exasperated groan when he reaches his. You can feel his hot cum overfilling you, making you whine as it leaks down your thigh.

After draining himself completely, making sure every drop was in you, he gently pulls out, “Fuck… you did so good for me, mama… so good.”

Miguel lets you rest against his heaving chest and soft belly, rubbing your back as you caught your breath. You smiled a tired smile when you notice how hard Miguel is breathing as well, knowing you worked him out, too.

“You ok, mamita?” He plants a tender kiss on your shoulder, making a trail up your neck and finally to your forehead.

“Mhm,” you hum, you look up at him and are met with his plump, wet lips, tongues becoming entangled with each other as he groans into your mouth.

“I say… we do cardio like this every day.”

A/n: Haiii, I hope u liked it <3 Love my man sm <3 None of my gym baes could ever compare to himmmmm😭😭😭

@angel-of-the-moons Ty Ty Ty my luv for planting the seed in my head <3

Want more DadBod!Miguel ? Here’s my master list, bae!!

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shawnxstyles · 1 year

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panty stealer

DATE: JANUARY 14, 2023

summary: flash forces peter to sneak into the girls sorority and steal a pair of panties as a dare. stumbling into the nearest room to save himself from being caught, he doesn’t expect you to be there, and to let him steal the panties you’re wearing.

request: yes!

words: 5.1k

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [fingering, oral], praise kink, slight dacryphilia kink, dirty talk, and protected sex), language, alcohol, mentions of weed, and a bit of fluff.

note: frat!peter x sorority!reader / peter masterlist / PART 2

—

“are you serious right now, flash?” peter groans with a pinch to his nose. his eyes screw shut in annoyance at flash’s obnoxious behavior.

“of course i am, penis parker!” flash shouts, shoving peter towards the large, white sorority house. “you have to do the dare or else.”

peter groans again, hating himself for ever agreeing to do this stupid game with flash.

the night had started calm and for once, peter was grateful. friday nights were the craziest day at the frat house, but this week, everyone was a bit too busy with schoolwork. except flash apparently.

like all of his other roomies, peter loves a good party. he doesn’t mind thrashing his house every week if that means he can have fantastic parties at his place (okay, maybe he minds a little bit. it gets tedious cleaning up garbage after a while). he knows he won’t be young forever, so what the heck, right?

people never would have guessed that peter was the leader of the frat. shocking, right? everyone would assume it’s flash for his obnoxious and party boy persona or brad for his attractiveness and charm. but what do those qualities have to do with being a leader? everyone else (besides those two) agreed that peter should be the head of the house because he is responsible and smart, unlike those boneheads.

peter often asked himself if he was attractive and if he had charm.

he did, right?

brad was good with the ladies. one glance and a wink made the girls melt into puddles at his feet. every morning when peter woke up early to go to class, a different woman would waltz down the stairs with a glowing, uncontrollable smile in nothing but a t-shirt. peter knew without a doubt that every one-night stand that stumbled down was brad’s; it was rarely flash or the others and ned had a girlfriend who was in the sorority across from us.

peter hooked-up once in a while. he found it more difficult to be like brad when he had college to concentrate on and lives to save inbetween it all. being spider-man in high school was overwhelming at first because it was impossibly hard to hide it. but now, having more freedom in college made everything a bit simpler. just a bit.

flash being spider-man’s “#1 fan!” still made him chuckle every time it came up.

speaking of flash, when peter stumbled through the door in the evening expecting a chill friday night, flash just had to crank up the energy. as per usual.

“what is this?” multiple bottles of liquor were splurged across the dining table when peter walked into the kitchen. flash crossed his arms with a huge smirk plastered onto his face, while ned looked concerned and stressed.

“i tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t listen to me,” ned shook his head in disappointment before walking away to his room.

“we’re having a party. it’s friday, penis,” flash said with an obvious tone. peter could easily have him removed from the frat, being the leader and all. yet he still keeps him here. why must he do this to himself?

“flash, i said no parties today. everyone is tired and stressed, and has a lot of work to do—”

“stressed? i think that’s the best reason for a party. you need to get laid, my brotha,” brad interrupted with an arm around peter’s shoulders and a firm pat to his buff chest. brad is way taller than peter, which some might think intimidates him. but peter is mainly intimidated by intelligence, and brad had the iq of a stick.

peter rolled his eyes at the predictable statement. flash rambles on about how parties are a tradition on friday nights and peter sharply cuts him off with a strict tone.

“ugh, fine! no party, party-pooper parker. but we will be drinking tonight. or else i’m sending an invite to 50 people.”

—

peter had no choice but to comply. flash, ned, brad, himself, and the other boys are seated on the furniture with the drinks displaced in the center. flash gave peter an ultimatum; play truth or dare or he rings the entire sports program of a party. peter growled and folded.

soon later, there is a sharpie drawing on flash’s ass, a ruler that measured brad’s dick, a flushed ned from downing too many denied truth shots, and laughter bubbling throughout the whole room. peter is the only one who hasn’t gotten asked anything yet and he honestly feels a bit left out. but he also just wants to do his homework and then go to sleep.

“what’ll be, penis parker?” flash inquires with a mischievous look on his face. “truth or dare? or should i say drink or dare?”

peter, not caring at the time, chose dare. “dare.”

“oh, you’re so in for it.”

—

so in all, peter was basically held against his own will to sneak into the girl’s sorority house. even though he denied the dare profusely and took three shots to make up for it, flash still dangled the party invites over his head like an iron weight waiting to drop.

peter snarled as flash nudged him again impatiently. he thought of an idea that might work. peter would have to do this dare, but would he have to do it alone?

“if you come with me, i’ll give you $50 bucks—” peter sells with raised eyebrows. he licks his lips as the cold breeze rustles the trees and sends slight shivers up his arms. the sky is pitch-black as the heavy clouds cover all the stars. peter felt a storm brewing and he really didn’t want to sneak into the sorority soaking wet.

“pfft, parker, please. i have enough money—”

“—in weed.” peter finishes, causing flash to halt his words. peter knows that flash can never find a good supply because he complains about it all the time. marijuana wasn’t legal on campus, let alone in the state. the trade had the cogs turning in flash’s head.

“alright, deal,” flash gives in and elbows peter as a form of agreement. then flash motivates brad and ned to join, heading straight for the zone as a group.

their goal was to grab a pair of underwear and leave without being caught. as spider-man, that should be easy, right?

—

for some odd reason, the back door was unlocked. you’d think girls would be more secure and observant than guys, but maybe they forgot. after hopping over the trimmed gardening hedges, the four boys crept through the door and into the kitchen.

unlike peter’s frat, the sorority girls had two big rules that they made known to everyone; no hook-ups allowed and no frat guys. ever. the girls didn’t throw parties like peter, they only went to them, so their place was like a holy sanctuary.

when the guys tiptoed into the kitchen, peter wasn’t surprised the place was damn-near spotless. most of the interior was pearly white; couches, love-seats, tables, counter, cabinets— it was like walking into an insane asylum with minor color accents.

it was at least midnight by now, so the girls had to be asleep. tiptoeing as silent as possible up the stairs, peter leads until they’re all standing in the middle of the large hallway with rapid, contained breaths. flash, being the scaredy-cat he is, follows last and nervously trips over the final step. he slips, tumbling down multiple levels with nosy thuds and bangs of his elbows and knees. all of the guys sprout wide eyes and strained, silent gestures to warn him to stop falling and making an absurd amount of noise.

peter gets goosebumps, hair rising on his skin as he gets a shiver down his spine. his hearing intensifies, picking up mumbled whispers and light footsteps with his spider sense. his eyes wander frantically as he scatters his brain for an idea. nothing comes to mind fast enough, as a door down the hall creaks open. brad and ned drag flash up the stairs, but freeze when they hear the door. out of instinct, peter sprints to the nearest door, slyly slipping inside. he closes the door gently, contradicting the pounding of his heart, without a noise being made. he releases a sigh as his forehead rests on the doorframe.

“what are you doing?” peter nearly shrieks when you casually question him. he stares at you, eyes impossibly wider than before. your arms are crossed as you sit on the side of your bed. peter swallows harshly, gazing at your appearance.

your legs look smooth and supple, and very much bare. he assumes you have underwear on under the t-shirt you’re sporting, and is proved correct when you shift to dangle your legs off the bed. his eyes are drawn to the small sight of your panties that tease underneath your shirt. you smirk, arms still crossed as you let him check you out.

“i-um-uh,” cheeks wildly red, he swallows and averts his eyes to the ground. how does he explain such a stupid thing without sounding like a jackass? i was dared to invade the sorority house. sorry. oh, also, can i have your panties? “it was a dare.”

“to sneak into my room?” your head tilts as you lift yourself off the bed and stalk towards him. peter’s cheeks grow redder while his heart pounds brutally in his chest.

besides the embarrassment flowing like blood through his veins, you were the simple kind of gorgeous that made his knees weak. the kind that is stunning in their own skin and that radiates beautiful energy like magical fairy dust. and peter nearly fainted when he saw your lack of clothes.

he’s seen you many times before; you share a class with him and came to some of his parties. he never talked to you in fear of rejection, but now he doesn’t really have a choice.

usually, he has more confidence with girls, but this is a very unfortunate situation where he lost every skill he’s ever known. even talking.

“no—” ear-piercing screams interrupt peter’s stuttering from the other side of the door. footsteps run all over the wooden floor as low profanities leave the guys’ mouths. “i think she found them.”

“you think?” you clip with raised eyebrows. peter inhales, losing some of his anxiousness at his thoughts of the boys being caught.

poor ned. betty’s going to kill him.

flash deserved it, though.

brad is probably getting one of their numbers.

peter shakes his head and sets his thoughts straight.

“okay, look. flash dared me to do this… stupid thing and i convinced them all to do it with me. i wanted to do nothing but relax tonight,” peter admits with a stressed exhale. you glare at him with squinted eyes, trying to decipher what has him so worked up. it’s not like he got screamed at and kicked out like the other guys. knowing some of your roomies, they might be a lot worse than just kicking them out. you get closer to him and ponder what he said.

“what was the dare, parker?” you shoot a harsh glare at him, daggers that force him to answer. your head tilts with curiosity as your heartbeats sporadically. you’ve never had a guy in your room before, and for that first guy to be peter parker has your heart bouncing around your chest like a boomerang. you’ve had your eye on peter for a few months now; not crazy obsessive, but you won’t deny the blood-rushing crush you’ve grown for the frat boy.

how did you stumble that low? a frat boy? jeez.

peter can’t be too shocked that you know his name, let alone his last name, but you saying it still causes him to forget some of the words on his tongue. many shouts are heard from outside the door, but your chests are nearly touching as you gaze up at him and then the outside world is practically silenced.

“i had to steal some… panties,” he mumbles, voice low and quiet. why does it sound so dirty?

“panties?” you repeat in a hushed voice as your surprised eyes blink a few times. you swallow, clit beginning to throb at the word out of his mouth.

“yeah,” he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “do you have any that i can…borrow?”

your mind hazes at his question. you tried to remember where your underwear was and if it was clean. but as a clear opportunity lies in front of you, you decide to run with it. you look down with a racing heart, fingers gripping the hem of your shirt.

“i…i have these ones,” you lightly ball up your t-shirt, revealing your laced panties to peter. he quietly coughs, cock starting to harden behind the zipper of his jeans. you glance up at his reddening expression through your eyelashes, devilish eyes hiding behind an innocent facade. confidence and lust ease your anxiety. “will these work?”

“um, yeah,” peter coughs again as rosy embarrassment crawls up his neck and blood rushes to his cock. you strut over to the mattress, rocking your hips teasingly, and peter instinctively follows with his heart in his throat. you lie on your back and spread your legs, arousal dripping from you at every movement. peter watches from a side angle, holding his breath as the tension rises.

“well, you’re not much of a panty-stealer if i just give them to you. come and steal them, parker,” you say with as much confidence as you could muster up. your heart was so loud in your ears you almost couldn’t hear yourself. speechless, peter walks to the front of the bed and kneels down, eye-level with your pussy.

he crumples the shirt over your hips, your legs automatically spreading wider. his senses heighten and pick up on the scent of your arousal. a small patch of it can be seen in the middle of your underwear, sending painful pulses down to his forever hardening cock. his thumbs dance around the laced hem, teasing you to see how much he can go.

he would say some of his confidence is back now.

he hooks his fingers under the band, sliding the flimsy fabric down while sticky arousal slings to you. he stuffs the damp material in his back pocket. both of your hearts rack and hands tremble at the extreme intensity, waiting for someone to do something. anything.

peter decides to be that person and resumes his fingers to your hips where the hem used to be. your folds glisten with pent-up arousal, just begging for him to touch you. your puffy clit throbs, neglected, and your thighs subtly spasm trying to remain open. peter grinds on his molars, nearly moaning at the glorious sight. his rough pads trace your smooth skin as he drags lower, dangerously close to where you’re yearning for him.

“peter,” you whisper, holding your breath, so you don’t move a muscle, even though they’re involuntarily shaking with need. he hums, the dirtiest thoughts flowing through his mind. “d-don’t you have to go? what if you get caught?”

“i can spare a few minutes…” his gaze is hazy and distracted, voice gravelly with lust. you clench desperately around nothing as you quietly plead for him to do something. his thumb tests the waters and finally begins circling on your clit, sending electricity up your body. you yelp at the sudden pressure, naturally grinding your hips for more friction. “hmm? don’t you want me to spend a few minutes with you?

his words are taunting and condescending, making your mind go blurry while the words disintegrate from your tongue. the rough pad of his thumb rubs faster while you clench around nothing again, chest heaving.

“i want more than a few minutes,” you moan as his middle finger pets along your soaking slit, teasing you painfully until your eyes roll back. you can sense the smirk growing on his face based on the satisfied hum he responds with.

“more? greedy girl,” peter slides his middle finger into you without warning causing you to release a long string of moans. “shh, you don’t want them to hear you, do you? then we’ll both get caught.”

you shake your head.

“then be a good girl and be quiet for me,” peter demands softly. you nod shakily, as another finger pumps into you rapidly. he thrusts brutally into you, fingertips brushing over your g-spot. you melt as bliss laces throughout your body.

“it’s always the quiet ones who are the loudest,” a devilish and dirty smirk dances on his lips while your teeth sink painfully into your bottom lip. you slap your palm over your mouth to remain quiet as thrilled moans threaten to pour out of you. your revolving hips are halted by his strong forearm, allowing him to curl his digits deliciously into you. you mewl with screwed eyes, back arching at the immense pleasure.

“i’m so close, peter,” you whisper, scared that if you speak any louder your moans will betray you and alert the whole neighborhood. peter subtly grinds his hips into the front of the mattress, cock dangerously hard from your whimpering and whining.

“can i taste you? been dying to since you opened your legs for me,” peter asks while your thighs tremble and your pussy contracts tightly around his digits. you mumble out a shuddery please before his mouth is devouring you.

he never removes his fingers, pumping ruthlessly while his mouth explores your slippery folds. he sucks harshly on your throbbing clit, a muffled wail escaping through your hand. warm and soothing, his tongue glides curiously and sneaks into your undeniably soft cunt. the moan you release is unholy and way too loud. at least right now.

peter wants nothing more than to hear your sweet, sweet moans crying his name while he makes you come in several different ways. but tonight was not the night. he wasn’t trying to get reported and have intruder as a new notch on his belt.

he had a good feeling you wouldn’t run off and report him though.

the idea of it all got him off much more than he would have ever thought. and looking at you, he could say that same.

his mouth plops off of you, lips swollen and puffy from sucking.

“come all over my tongue. let me taste you, sweet girl,” his tone is euphonious and seductive, yet demanding. his fingers savagely thrust into your seeping hole that clenches tightly around him. your back arches off the mattress as your thighs shake from the upcoming euphoria.

peter’s words send your body into overdrive. your muscles contract and your stomach tightens as your orgasm ripples through your body like a heavenly wave. cum oozes out of you and onto his tongue, slurping up every ounce of your juices until there is nothing left.

“such a good girl,” peter praises while he licks away your arousal from his rosy lips. heat crawls up your neck at your sudden vulnerability. you attempt to close your legs to hide, but he keeps them spread with his rough hands. “you’re going to hide yourself after i just ate you out? we’re just getting started, baby.”

peter pulls his shirt off deliberately, showcasing his bulky abs and muscles that made your clit pulse with desire again. he looks like he was man-made, a real-life sculpture with chiseled muscles and perfectly ridged abs. you were insatiable to this man, who snuck into your room to steal something— you should be mad at him. furious. but when his boxers fall down his legs, only dirty and needy emotions and thoughts are left.

your eyes widen at his impressive length; you’ve only been with a few guys in the past, but none of them were this big. you were scared, yet excited to feel his cock stretch you out sinfully. you imagined how long you would feel him inside of you afterwards, soreness like a good workout at the gym.

“you’re so big,” you mumble, not hiding the fact that you were blatantly eyeing his raging cock with hunger, fear, and lust.

“it’ll fit. don’t worry, doll,” he hovers over you, smoothing your hair away from your worried eyes. “do you have a condom?”

you stretch out your arm into your night stand, blindly grabbing a tin-foiled package. you seductively rip it with your teeth, causing peter to groan in impatience. he snatches it away from you and swiftly slides it onto his sturdy cock.

“such a fucking tease,” he hisses, running the tip of his cock along your folds, which were already soaked in arousal again. “are you ready?”

you nod your head surely, more than ready for him to fill you up.

“you’re one to talk,” you sass, rolling your eyes, which were no longer as worried, but full of needy anticipation. he huffs out a single chuckle, eyes strained on his dick rubbing around your wetness tediously.

“speaking of talking, don’t,” peter thrusts into you savagely, making you gasp and shriek. your hand immediately goes to his shoulder for leverage, nails digging desperately into the meat of his skin. the other tightens securely onto your mouth to keep quiet, even though it’s probably useless now.

hoarse profanities fall from his lips as he shifts around your snug hole. your velvety walls choke his cock so fucking good, he doesn’t think he’ll last any longer. and then you clench even tighter around him, sending peter’s eyes rolling back into brain.

“you’re so fucking tight,” peter groans in your ear, flicking his hips upwards into you. your body trembles in overwhelming pleasure, muffled whines begging to be released.

slapping skin and hushed moans fill the air. peter fits a hand between the two of you and rubs your throbbing clit perfectly. his lips travel down from your ear to your neck, kissing along your skin. his tongue discovers your soft spot, sucking harshly until you’re clutching onto him for dear life.

“you’re so good, peter. so deep, too, oh god,” you can’t help the lusty wail that tumbles from your raspy throat when he rapidly rolls his hips, repeatedly touching your sensitive g-spot. he growls at the praise, every action being intensified by the comment. you notice this and smile with a hint of devilishness behind it.

“you may be smiling now,” peter pants, muscles popping and flexing from the position. “but you’ll be crying soon.”

if possible, his thrusts got harder. and deeper. and faster. he was pounding into your cunt like there was no tomorrow, buckets of arousal leaking from you and all around him. peter would pull his cock fully out just to slam it back in, and it made you wither away into another dimension. his balls beat against you harshly with every brisk thrust of his body. his skilled thumb pets your clit, electrifying all your nerves into blissful flames.

there was so much to feel; the biting of his kisses on your neck, the rough texture of his thumb pad on your clit, the long, thick length plunging barbarically into you, and the heaviness of his weight above you. you were so overwhelmed by the pleasure, water brimmed at your tear ducts. soon, full-blown tears are streaming down your face from the euphoria running through your veins.

that familiar wicked smile curls on peter’s face with your appearance; wild hair, tear-stained cheeks, and swollen lips. he doesn’t think you’ve ever looked so beautiful in front of him.

his cock twitches when you whimper loudly underneath the palm of your hand, begging to let you come. contracting on his shaft, your nails stab his shoulder blade until crescent moon marks appear. a strangled moan leaves him when your body rolls up towards him, back arching harshly.

“need to come. so bad, peter,” you whine. his name from your lips drives him mental.

“fuck, y/n,” he sighs heavily. “come around my cock like the good girl you are.”

with those words, your second orgasm tumbles through your body like a thunderstorm. peter slams his lips against yours to keep you quiet, all your pent-up moans turning into needy hums in your throat. stars spot in your vision and you thought you might pass out from being fucked into oblivion. you wouldn’t even be mad— it was worth it.

summoning all your energy, your muscles tense as the liquid floods out of you. your back arches, making your bare breasts push up against peter’s chest. at the same time, peter comes with a string of curse words against your plush lips. he shoots his load into the condom, balls tightening while his eyes screw shut. he steadies his pumps and slowly pulls out of you, never wanting to leave.

you whimper at the emptiness, already missing his cock. he ties the knot and tosses it into the garbage under your desk. peter slips into his boxers and immediately finds the small box of tissues on your night stand. grabbing a few, he cleans you delicately like an antique doll as if he didn’t just ravish your body and soul.

you were beyond dumbstruck as he wiped you up. the few people you have been with never stayed long enough for aftercare, and even though it should be a necessity, the action still made your heart lurch for peter. speaking of your heart, it was beating a mile a minute. sex was a physical activity, yet having a huge crush on someone felt a lot more physically demanding. but you really liked the feeling.

a million thoughts brisked through your head; how does he feel? does he feel the same? did he hate it? did he love it? you shake your head. if you didn’t stop yourself, you would ruin any chance you might have by overthinking too much.

when you refocus your eyes to the moment, peter has his jeans fully on and his shirt in his hand. he slides it on and then looks at you worryingly, seeming as though you’re still naked and haven’t moved.

“are you okay? did i go too hard? fuck—”

“yes—i mean no! shit,” you stutter after interrupting him and close your eyes in embarrassment. “yes, i’m fine. i’m more than fine. that was… really good, peter. like really good.”

peter’s tensed shoulders relax as his face melts from a concerned expression to a soft one. you slip your large t-shirt on and stand up from your bed. your legs are a bit unbalanced and wobbly, and peter can’t help but chuckle as he holds you steady by your hips.

“stop laughing! you did this!” you whisper-yell with a faked angry face.

“oh, i know. next time, i’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk, let alone stand,” he winks with an arrogant smile cascading his lips. familiar heat creeps up your neck and ears, making you all tingly inside at the idea of a next time with peter.

“next time?” large rings of hope surround your irises as you stare into peter’s. his arrogance slightly fades as he itches with nervousness.

“yeah, if that’s what you want, of course,” why is he holding his breath? why is his heart beating so unhealthy fast?

“if i say yes, does that mean you’re going to try to steal my panties again?” you try to hold back your grin as you joke, peering up at him with squinted eyes.

“are you going to let me steal your panties again?” he clicks his tongue with his all too familiar smirk. he loves your playful demeanor and your attempts to withhold a smile.

you pretend to think, really debating. peter can’t help but stare at you in awe. you were beautiful, and he regrets not approaching you earlier because you were… well, he didn’t really know you yet, but he wouldn’t mind getting to know you better. even if you told him to fuck off and never to see him again, he knew that he would never forget you or this night.

you push yourself closer to peter, chest to chest. you can both feel the rapid beating of your hearts through your shirts. however, you stand, gazing confidently at peter. he watches you as you lean right in like you were going to kiss him.

“mm maybe. you might just have to find out yourself,” your breathy words linger on his lips as you back away and casually get into the bed. you unfold the comforter and tuck yourself in, like you didn’t just give peter a semi-hard on in his pants.

suddenly a loud crash is heard from outside, alerting both of your heads to peer out through the window.

“my car!” flash cries so high-pitched and whiny, he probably woke up the entire neighborhood. peter isn’t surprised that one of the sorority girls destroyed his car because he deserved it. someone needed to humble him anyway. you both laugh behind the palm of your hands at flash’s girly scream.

with that, peter realizes that he has to go and that he no longer has any minutes to spare. flash, brad, and ned probably weren’t worried about peter while they were out-running the girls. but now that the girls had done the damage, the boys would soon realize peter’s absence.

“better hide your panties. this isn’t over,” peter walks over to the side of your bed and kisses your forehead delicately. he cracks open the window, turning to you with half his body out. with a wink from him and a gasp from you, he jumps down the two-story window without hesitation. your heart flutters at his gentle kiss that lingers on your skin, fingers pressed against the spot his lips last touched.

rain begins to splash on the glass as sprinkles of water drip into your room through the open window. you purposefully don’t close it, even when you know the carpet will get soaked throughout the night. you welcomed the idea that if peter wanted to come back, he could, simply by sneaking through the window the same way he left.

so many other thoughts cloud your mind, making you lie wide awake. you wondered if his heart was still thumping hastily like the rain pattering on your window and onto your floor. you wondered what he looked like when he was drenched in natural rain water. probably breathtakingly beautiful; soaking wet hair and a childish smile adorning his rosy face while he laughs wholeheartedly.

as you roll over to turn off your lamp with a wistful sigh, you remember that you never even got his number. while trying to guess which set of numbers fit peter parker the best, you fall asleep with a yearning heart, flapping its wings adoringly in your chest.

oh, god, you were down. and it was bad.

what you didn’t know was that peter was down too, but even worse than you.

—

tags: @raajali3

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fortheloveofleon · 6 months

Note

So, what if reader as spider person do smth WRONG like bad wrong, miguel got pissed (an understatement) and they run from miguel, they manage to hide from miguel for a good while but miguel eventually catch them, some fight happens and miguel has had enough he broke some bones and made sure the other spider person also couldn't do anything (the venom thing). The rest is up to you!

WICKED GAMES

⊱ Pairing: Yandere!Miguel x Spider!Reader

⊱ Summary: You decided to test Miguel’s limits and took something that didn’t belong to you. So, what’s the obvious response when the most terrifying Spiderman finds out? You hide. Unfortunately for you, Miguel enjoys the “seek” part a bit too much.

⊱ Contents: 18+, Yandere!Miguel, Dark Content, Scary? Content, Jealousy, Dub-Con, Non-Con, Dom!Miguel, Hate-Fucking, Face Slapping, Orgasm (M+F), Primal Kink, Biting, Creampie, Choking, Man-Handling, Hair Pulling.

Heavy footsteps fall to the concrete with each stride you take, lunging forward in a panicked haste. Soft breaths tremble in your lungs. The tightness in your chest grows and grows as you head further through streets.

Iridescent lights flicker above your head, and the smell of metal is making your eyes glass over. Even whilst slinking through these dingy streets and crooked alleys, you still haven’t entirely made out where you actually are.

And it’s all your fault.

Is it that bad you wanted to be treated like an adult?

You’re a grown woman. A Spider.

But Miguel refused to see you as such, always keeping an eye on you “just in case.”

You were sick of feeling like glass, and you were determined to prove yourself, so you made a wrong decision that just felt so right at the time;

You stole a portal watch from his lab.

Your naïve belief of thinking Miguel wouldn’t find out only made matters worse, and made him fucking livid when he did.

Thanks to a tip from Hobie back at Headquarters, you’ve managed to get a head start. So here you are, jumping from universe to universe, world to world, trying to escape the consequences.

After what seems like hours of running, you’ve arrived in some sort of warehouse, dead and silent. Dripping pipes and crunching glass are the only sounds accompanying your heaving breaths.

But just when you thought you’re safe, a sudden whirring noise rings through the air, echoing around you.

There’s a hovering gash, pulsing and glowing, omitting a flurry of blue particles. A burst of sparks, red and orange, rip open this cosmic, hexagonal wound to reveal a vacuum of time and space.

You make out a burly shape slipping out of it.

The portal leaves as quickly as it came, disappearing in a flash of light. A masked figure stands on the deserted warehouse floor, unmoving.

Using your webs, you pull yourself up to the beams of the roof, hiding and looking down.

You already know who it is.

Pulling the navy mask from his face, wavy hair ruffled and eyes dark, Miguel looks around the seemingly vacant room — you’re nowhere to be seen.

“I know you’re in here,” he drawls out, voice heavy. “It’ll be a lot quicker for me, and easier on you, if you just come out now.”

You say nothing, waiting with bated breath.

So does he.

He clicks his tongue, eyes rolling in irritation.

“Fucking…fine!” the brunette tuts, teeth gnashing together, chest heaving as he sighs. “You want to play a little hide-and-seek? Be my guest.”

Right now, you’re barely paying attention to his rambling; your gaze remains locked on a chance of escape.

Embedded in a wall across the room, is a vent.

You might get to it. If you’re quick enough.

Doing your best to stay quiet, perched on the balls on your feet, you slink across the metal beam, using only the webs of your palms to move with haste.

Shuddery breaths slip through your lips as you pull yourself closer to freedom.

“Oh, I forgot to mention one thing,” Miguel‘s voice echoes out from somewhere down below.

But, stupidly, you pause.

You take the chance to peek down, and the sight makes your heart fall — Miguel is stood by a light switch, one sharp finger resting against the button.

He’s looking straight at you, eyes crinkled in a humourless smile.

“We’re playing by my rules.”

And suddenly, the room flickers into a sea of black.

You manage to bury your scream somewhere between your chest and throat. One hand remains slapped over your mouth, tears pouring silently. You cling to the rafter, pressing your whole body down, swallowing wordless pleas.

Cold metal grunts beneath your nails. The sounds of creaking and shuffling echo around you, calling out in the dark.

Then, it’s eerily silent.

Hallowed breaths shake from your ribs. Your throat burns, and you blink rapidly, trying to find some sense of direction in this surrounding inky abyss.

But it’s no use; you need to get out here now.

You muster up the courage to drop to the floor, perching on the balls of your feet. Droplets of water splash around you, and force back a squeal, fists clenched, adrenaline rushing.

You swivel around, waiting for the reach of a clawed hand.

Still, nothing.

Unbeknownst to you, Miguel’s fighting back to urge to pounce on you right now, forcing his hand away from his crotch. But the look of pure anguish on your face has his cock harder than ever.

You’re pivoting on your feet every second, trying to make out where he can be.

It’s like he’s everywhere.

“Y’know, I had to force LYLA to show me your location on the Quantum Map?” his voice travels.

Gasping, you turn, swinging at the dark. White, hot thrill pulses through veins, pulsing through your body, tempting you with a high you can’t find anywhere else.

“Threatened to dismantle her software,” Miguel chuckles. You can hear the smirk in his tone. “It was funny, you should’ve heard her beg.”

“See?” you breathe out, head swivelling. “Even your personal AI knows you’re a fucking psycho,”

“That’s a pretty ballsy thing to say for someone who’s scared of me,” the dark calls out. The sound of deep laughter chimes around.

You swallow hard, blinking — it’s not a secret.

You are scared of him.

A majority of people, in the Spider Society or not, are scared of Miguel. He’s used to the looks of agitation, the fleeting glances, the scurrying.

But for some reason, he takes great pride knowing he can make you twitch.

“Do I scare you?” he whispers, humming your name. He sounds so close, words brushing your ear.

Behind you, a heavy claw reaches out of the dark, running gently up your spine — a warning.

The movement has you rushing forward, scrambling away, hiccuping out a scream.

You start to run, panicked.

Where to, you don’t know, but you’re running, fast and blindly.

Shoes hitting the floor with each step, you stumble and drag yourself forward, staggering through this maze of black, feeling the walls for any sign of exit.

Miguel follows your movements, waiting for his moment to strike, hard and true.

He watches the way you pull the mask from your face, breathing heavily in frustration, nimble hands tugging at the bolted doors and windows.

He smiles, seeing the panic settle in on your features when you realise you’ve run out of web fluid, leaving you stranded on this warehouse floor.

Suddenly, he hears nails scratching the concrete. He watches on as you grope the floor blindly, feeling out for something.

“No,” you whisper to yourself. “S-shit, fucking shit!”

Then, it clicks. Finally, the last domino has fallen.

Miguel grins in the shadows, eyes resting on the puddle by his feet. A soft glow shimmers against the water, revealing something digital and sunken.

You’ve dropped your portal watch.

How could you have lost it? It was just on your wrist. How could have been so careless, so stupid? Now, you’re trapped.

No longer relying on your silence, you begin to kick hard at the chained doors, grunting and groaning as the iron jangles.

Right now, you don’t have the time to fucking critique yourself, you need to leave.

“Fucking. Open!” you breathe out, booting at the metal. The head of the lock begins to bend, the doors shaking under the weight of your blow.

But just as hope begins to beam, a sudden crackling thud booms above you.

You turn.

The end of the warehouse is flooded in light, fluorescents humming. As you peer down, a tall figure crouches, and stands, facing you.

Miguel’s grinning hard, fangs and claws on show.

Your stare, eyes wide, and begin to kick harder at the door.

Bang.

The second light follows, illuminating the ground with a musky yellow. That figure in the distance grows closer and closer.

You can hear his feet pounding against the floor.

Bang.

Just as the third light shines down, the door shatters out, and a scream crawls up from your throat.

Miguel lunges at you, fangs bared, tackling you to the ground.

Heavy hands wrap around your throat, crumpling your shrieks to mere cries as the pair of you topple.

You’re cursing, kicking, flailing as much as you could, pummelling at his chest, arms, anything you can reach.

The larger man has settled himself between your legs, pinning you to the floor.

“C’mon, tú zorra, keep hitting me,” he grunts, goading you with a grin. “Fucking see what happens.”

In the tussle, you manage to punch him hard in his ribs, releasing an audible crack.

Miguel sucks in a breath, cold through the teeth as his brows . His jaw is set, tense and square. Rich brown eyes growing ever darker.

Before you can even think, a fist locked in the tresses of your hair, yanking hard. Pain burns at your scalp as Miguel tugs your head to the side, exposing the flesh of your neck.

A flash of teeth, a shining wink of a blood-tinged fang. Then he bites down.

Hard.

The world blurs for a quick second.

You feel flesh tear, and the smell of hot, wet metal fills the air. Miguel is almost growling against you. Canines shift beneath your skin.

Something, warm and sticky, is dripping down your neck. The room feels so clammy all of a sudden.

Vision softening, everything is a wave of colours and sounds. You can barely slur out your confusion as Miguel’s hands run along the shape of you, ghosting your clothed cunt.

“Y’wanna act like a bitch, huh?” Miguel hisses — you feel fabric tearing, pulling against your skin. Goosebumps decorate your body as you lay half naked on the ground.

“Looks like I’ve gotta remind who fucking owns you.”

Two fingers push against your mouth, and you’re too weak to fight against them. Saliva escapes from the corners of your lips and covers your chin as Miguel’s digits press against your tongue.

He tastes like blood and salt.

Your eyes flutter shut as you moan around his fingers, blinking out tears.

“You pathetic little slut,” Miguel’s huffing out a laugh, grasping your face, thrusting his middle and forefinger back and forth, grinning as you choke.

Miguel feels your fingers careening against the stiff muscle of his forearm creeping along his shoulders to find home in his hair, ready to pull again.

He jolts, moving quick to pin them against the floor with one heavy hand— despite the Rapture flowing through your bloodstream right now, he wasn’t dumb to let you even attempt to get a hold on him.

He tears his fingers from your mouth, slamming his lips to yours, tongue pushing past your teeth.

You couldn’t even find the strength to fight back right now — all you can feel is him. His body on you, hands groping, his mouth melding against yours.

Miguel finds your futile efforts quite cute. But your struggling isn’t helping you at all, and it’s only turning him on.

He’s grinning against your skin, pressing soft kisses against your jaw, down your neck. The sudden switch has you tense, wary, like a deer in headlights.

“Turn over.” The sentence wasn’t a request, but a demand.

One that he wasn’t patient enough to wait for.

Within a second, he’s got you flipped over, face pressed against the cold flood, arms pinned behind your back. Your bare ass sticks up in the air, and Miguel strikes the skin hard.

Choked pleas fall from your lips, but that doesn’t stop him. One, two, three more times you feel the roughness of his palms against your ass.

Your skin is singing in pain, every nerve set aflame at each swat.

“Ngh, God! I’m sorry! ” you squeal out, “I’m sorry!”

Miguel’s jaw is set once more, eyes steely as he stares straight at your glistening cunt.

“Oh, you’re sorry?” he breathes out, each word dripping in ridicule. A rough finger presses against the hot wetness building between your legs, sticky and sweet.

“No, you’re not. Not yet.”

A loud cry escapes you as Miguel plunges his cock, swollen and hard, deep in the sweltering heat of your cunt. Sharp pain throbs within you for a brief second, pulsing between your leg.

Fangs bared, Miguel groans at your grip. “Fucking hell.”

Tears drip down your face, darkening the concrete as each drop falls with every surge of his hips, the fat of your behind smashing against his abdomen.

“Oh, my G-God,” you stutter out sacrilege, nails biting in your palms. “Fuck, Miguel.”

As much as you want to hate this, hate him, you can’t control how your body feels. Your hips appear to have a mind of their own, pushing back in his grip. The tip of his cock kisses your cervix with each move, walls hugging his length with a tightness he’s never felt before.

There’s a sweltering mix of pain and pleasure, sweetness and salt, swirling inside of you as he’s hitting every goddam spot. Right now, you’re in limbo, on edge, just waiting for that one moment to push you into bliss.

And Miguel knows it. He can feel it. Smell it. Taste it, practically.

Yet, he’s seething.

How dare you enjoy yourself after making go to all this trouble? How do you have the fucking gall to find joy in this?

Heavy grunts escaping through his gritted teeth as his stray hand releases abandon your clasped wrists, only to grip at the back of your neck and push your face further into the ground.

“Dumb. Little. Slut,” he spits, emphasising on each word with a further thrust of his cock, drilling faster, harder, in the hot, wet mess of your cunt. “‘Course y’fuckin’ enjoying this. Never known a girl more hungry f’dick than you.”

You could only hiccup out small pleas as the taller man berates you with scorching insults, accompanied with a mocking laugh that melts into a moan.

Miguel wants to last longer - truly, he does. Nothing is more a sight for sore eyes than the pleading, whimpering mess you are.

But the sounds you’re making and the feeling of your walls tightening in on him, pulls him closer and closer to release quick than he intends.

He can’t help himself.

“Take it, hah, you…fuck…mi corazón.”

You whimper, eyes slinking shut as you breathe out a choked, “A-anything for you.”

With those last three brazen words, Miguel gives one final thrust, leaning over you to bite down on the curve of your neck as he comes — you’re both seeing stars.

It feels like you’re melting, from the inside out.

You can barely comprehend anything but these ebbing waves of sweet pleasure humming from between your twitching legs as you come, your plumped lips caught between your teeth so hard, you can taste blood.

Miguel’s rolling his hips in time with yours, panting, whimpering in your ear as he rides out this high for as long as he can, whispering sweet nothings and broken promises against your body.

You can feel this white mess sticking to your thighs, smeared against your abdomen, dripping with small plinks onto the cold concrete.

Miguel presses open-mouthed kisses down your back, running his tongue over the indents his fangs left in your skin.

“Don’t think I’m done with you yet.” A hand returns to the nape of your neck, clutching at your hair.

A familiar wave of dread washes over you.

“Just wait till we get back to the lab.”

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spider-stark · 19 days

Text

INFINITELY YOU

part two // crullers & constants

SUMMARY - In every universe, Peter Parker seems destined to fall in love with you. And, in every universe, he realizes it too late. When universes collide and two of them are granted a second chance at rectifying their biggest mistake, neither of them are willing to let the opportunity go to waste–even if you end up not being the person they thought you were.

WARNINGS - 18+, story will contain mentions of blood, broken bones, weapons, suggestive language, and more. I will try to update warnings accordingly for each chapter, but please read at your own discretion

WORD COUNT - 4.2k

// masterlist // series masterlist // send me your thoughts // no way home fan fiction // rewrite

name key: tom!peter = peter // andrew!peter = parker

Peter Pan Donuts is a sacred place.

Or, rather, it was a sacred place—and walking back into the shop now felt awfully strange.

Back when you and Peter first started high school, it had become a tradition to end every Friday with one of the renowned pastry shop’s legendary frosted crullers. You considered it a well-deserved reward for surviving another week of more drama than either of you could stomach, thankful that the weekend was finally upon you and that you could finally breathe without inhaling the reek of the unwashed teenage boys that lined the halls of Midtown.

Peter Pan’s quickly became a haven. A safe place where the two of you could tuck yourselves away at the end of the bar, talking for hours about the teachers you hated and the bullies you hoped would fall from the face of the Earth. There was nothing that you couldn’t talk about, no secrets kept between you and Peter.

Or, at least, none that mattered.

But things changed as time passed, as they so often do.

It started with the inclusion of Ned. You didn’t particularly mind his presence, even if the conversations had begun to shift towards less intimate topics, focusing instead on movies that you all wanted to see or upcoming video games that you would all try to play.

Then came the inclusion of Mj a few months later, after she landed a job at the shop. That was when everything truly changed—when it was no longer you and Peter tucked away at the bar, but you and Ned, left to pick at your food and watch as Peter leaned across the front counter and talked to Mj over her shift.

After a few months of testing every donut on the menu with Ned, you stopped going altogether.

And Peter never even asked why.

“I was surprised to see you texted me,” you quip as you slid onto the free barstool, “what happened to not wanting me to get involved?”

Peter exhales sharply through his nose, and even though his eyes are glued to his phone, you can tell that he was already regretting asking you to meet him here. “I already told you that what I want doesn’t matter.”

And how true that must have been.

There had been nothing kind about his text to you this morning, although there was nothing inherently rude about it either, you supposed. It was simple—meet me at Peter Pan’s asap, need 2 talk—but you could almost sense the begrudging nature with which he had typed it. And, sitting next to him now, you could almost feel it, too.

He didn’t want you here, even if he had been the one to invite you, and you couldn’t help but wonder why he had decided to involve you at all—especially so soon. What had changed in a single night?

Sitting on the barstool to your left, Parker pops his lips. “Well this is fun. I’m not at all uncomfortable right now.”

You turned towards him, acknowledging just how different he looked in the civilian clothes that he donned in place of his suit—black jeans that certainly looked worse for wear and an old Ramone’s t-shirt that you immediately recognized as yours. Oversized on you, the short sleeves clung rather tightly to his well-muscled arms. Did he seriously go through your stuff?!

“Why are you even here?” You ask, perhaps a little sharper than necessary. You weren’t angry that he had gone sifting through the armoire in the spare bedroom, especially since he couldn’t just parade around as Spider-Man all of the time. But he could’ve at least asked. “Shouldn’t one of you be busy patrolling?”

It was hard to tell if the offense on his face was real or feigned, but you didn’t care much either way. “Peter wanted answers about my world, I wanted food,” he shrugs, gesturing at the crème-filled donut in front of him. “And Peter 2’s handling patrol.”

Peter 2—you had almost forgotten about him, the version of Peter that hadn’t wanted to come with Ned and Mj to your apartment last night. As far as you could tell when you woke up this morning, he hadn’t shown up in the middle of the night, either—no trace of Parker or anyone else when you had finally stumbled out of your room to get ready after reading the text from Peter.

You didn’t figure it was really your business where the mystery Peter was, but you were a little surprised to hear that he was still out patrolling. Was he not exhausted?

“Ametaur move getting crème-filled,” you tell him, ignoring everything he said. “Should’ve gone with the frosted vanilla cruller, it’s way better.”

“No way,” he gapes, grabbing the half-eaten pastry and shaking it for emphasis as he said, “this is god-tier, alright? No way anything’s topping it.”

The expression on his face was actually hilarious, his brown doe eyes alight with pure euphoria as he took another bite of the donut. An exaggerated moan slipped his lips, coated with bits of sugar and crème. It was hard not to laugh at him, especially when you knew that was probably his goal—to combat the evident tension between you and Peter.

Chuckling, you lift your hands in mock defense. “Suit yourself, Parker. But if you ever wanna experience true pleasure, then you know what to order.”

Parker looks as if he's about to continue his borderline-lustful tangent about the donut, but Peter spoke up instead, his attention snagging on the name you used.

“Parker?” He echoes in disbelief, letting his phone clatter against the bar.

Peter’s sudden resurgence to the real world left Parker silent, sinking back against his stool and taking another bite.

“What?” Your brow arches, your voice laced with incredulity. “Did you really think I’d keep calling him Peter 2? No offense to Ned, but everything about that feels stupid.”

Peter’s eyes narrow, coupled with a subtle shake of his head that indicates he doesn't care nearly enough to have this conversation right now.

You didn’t care much either, and so you steered the conversation in a more productive direction. “So what is this grand plan of yours?” You ask with a somewhat sarcastic lilt. “And where do I fit into it?”

Another huff of breath escaped his nostrils. “We don’t even have a plan. Not yet,” he reluctantly admits. “But I tried talking to Doctor Strange last night, to see if he had some sort of magical spell or something that would let us go back and fix all of this.”

Your lips press together, nibbling on the skin and pretending you didn’t notice the hidden meaning behind his words. He hadn’t just gone to Doctor Strange to find a way to get rid of the villains now lurking in your world, because if he had, then he wouldn’t have gone specifically seeking out a spell that would let him go back—not just to stop the villains from ever coming here, but to save May, too.

“Did he?”

Peter reached for his cup of iced coffee, if only to occupy his now-fidgeting fingers. “No,” he murmurs, the sound of sloshing ice nearly overpowering him as he swirled the cup. “He didn’t.”

You frown at the tinge of disappointment that snuck through his otherwise even tone, your chest aching. You had to fight against the urge to say I’m sorry, remembering what he had said to you last night—he didn’t want your apologies, nor did he seem to want anyone else's.

In truth, you weren’t sure what Peter wanted; or what you could do to help him.

“Well did he have anything useful?”

He shook his head, lifting the cup to his mouth. “Define useful,” he scoffed, sounding uncharacteristically sharp. He took a sip of his drink, his nose scrunching as soon as the coffee hit his tongue—too bitter.

Despite the coffee’s pale color that indicated it was more cream than coffee, you weren’t surprised that it was still too strong for him. Peter had never truly developed a taste for coffee, only pursuing a caffeine addiction for the sake of combating the exhaustion that came with being Spider-Man. That didn’t mean he had ever grown to like it though, masking the taste with copious amounts of sugar and syrups.

“Something that will keep multiversal villains from tearing our world apart?” You venture half-heartedly, guided by pure instinct and muscle memory as you reached over to take his cup from him, snagging a few packs of sugar from the plastic canister on the bar to0.

“He has a theory,” Peter gives you a tight-lipped smile, born of pure frustration.

“A theory? And he expects us to save the world with this theory?” You ask, a bit more derisive than you would have been if Doctor Strange were around to hear.

Peter scoots closer to you, his voice purposefully low. “Do you remember when I told you about him using the Time Stone before Mr. Stark died? To look through all the different outcomes with Thanos?”

Ripping open the sugar packets and dumping them in his cup, you managed to mask a wince at the mention of Peter’s dead mentor. You only nodded, not trusting your voice to stay steady if you tried for any sort of verbal affirmation.

“Well… when he did that, he thinks that he might have actually seen through the multiverse—he just didn’t know for sure at the time.”

Your forehead creased as you popped the lid back onto his cup, sliding it back towards him. Given his advantage of Spidey-sense, he easily caught it before it could slide too far and end up on the floor—which is what would have definitely happened pre-Spider bite.

“And you don’t consider that to be useful to our current situation?”

“No. I don’t.” Peter answers firmly. “Because at the center of it all—in every universe the Stone showed him—all he saw was you.”

You nearly laugh, your lips curving as you rose a brow at him. “Me?”

Peter gave a nod as he took another sip of his drink. This time, his nose didn’t scrunch.

“But it’s been almost a year since the Avengers took down Thanos,” you reminded him, your stunned amusement beginning to fade into confusion. “If he saw.. Me, when he used the Stone, then why didn’t he say anything until now?”

By no means would you consider yourself to be close with New York’s resident Sorcerer, and so you wouldn’t have expected him to come to you with this knowledge. But Peter—he knew Peter, and he knew that you were Peter’s best friend, and so it didn’t make any sense to you why Doctor Strange chose to wait until now to mention what the Stone had shown him.

Given the aggravated expression Peter wore, it was clear that he was thinking the same. “I don’t know, and trying to get answers out of Doctor Strange that he clearly doesn’t want to give is like pulling teeth.”

“But what does that mean?” You couldn’t stop yourself from pressing further, concern starting to bubble up inside of you. Regardless of his answer—if he had one—you had a feeling you wouldn’t like it. “I don’t get how I’m at the center of every universe.”

Peter blew out a breath, his fingers going back to tapping against the sides of his plastic cup. “Alright, so there are probably well-over a hundred thousand different parallel universes, okay? Some of them are probably super similar to ours, and then there are others that are the complete opposite.”

“O-kay,” you drone, your brows drawing together. You felt the start of a headache coming on as you prepared yourself for the confusing science-talk that was surely about to start pouring out of his mouth.

Perhaps noticing your pained expression, Peter tries to find a way to simplify whatever explanation he was about to use. “Try and look at it like this,” he started, “think of the multiverse as some giant, cosmic loom, alright? Now imagine that each thread on the loom signifies a person. As the loom weaves all of these different threads together, different decisions get made and different actions are taken—and with every choice, a new thread is spun, branching off and creating a variation of the original tapestry.”

“So it’s like you and Parker, right?” You interrupt him, rubbing at your temples. “Same thread, different reality?”

“Exactly! And, technically speaking, that’s how it’s supposed to be. As the loom weaves and alters reality, each thread continuously evolves into something different.” He paused, his fingers finally falling still. “But now imagine that—in the center of all of these branching tapestries—there exists one thread, entirely unbroken and unaltered by this ever-weaving tapestry of existence, okay? A glitch in the cosmic fabric, a constant that’s woven into infinite realities and yet, somehow, remains fundamentally unchanged. How does that work?”

You couldn’t ignore the sense of dread creeping up your spine, nor could you escape the slight wobble in your voice as you said, “It doesn’t sound like it should.”

“You’re right, it shouldn’t work.” Peter confirmed, his expression nearly impossible to read. “But according to Doctor Strange, you are that thread. A constant anomaly that defies every potential law of the multiverse.”

Nausea bubbled in your gut. God, you did not want to deal with this right now!

“And let me guess,” a bitter laugh follows your words, “that’s as much information as he was willing to give, wasn’t it?”

“Yep,” Peter pops his lips, leaning back into his stool. His brows raise slightly in a silent I told you so before he says, “Hey, you’re the one that wanted to be involved, right? Now you’re at the center of everything-”

“I said I wanted to help you,” you correct him sharply. “Not that I wanted to be at the center of Doctor Strange’s weird Time Stones fantasies!”

He only shrugs, barely acknowledging the dirty look you gave him as he plucks his phone off of the counter, clicking on a notification. “Same thing, isn’t it? Either way, you get what you want.”

“What I want?” You echoed, your mouth hung open in disbelief.

“Doctor Strange seems to think that whatever is wrong with you might help us solve all of this. That you might be connected to the multiverse somehow, or that you’re at least immune to it. So yeah, you get what you want. You get to help,” he spat the word out like an insult, too focused on typing something to even notice how rude he sounded.

If it weren’t for the feeling that stomach acid was about to come crawling up your throat, then you might have taken some time to unpack the bitterness in his tone or be hurt by the claim that something was wrong with you—but you didn’t. Even if you had, you weren’t sure that it would have gotten you anywhere.

You weren’t stupid. Peter was wielding his insolence like a shield, purposefully trying to hurt you as an effort to keep you at arms length—and, if you had to guess, Mj and Ned were probably receiving the same treatment right now.

“Well this isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I said I wanted to help,” you admitted, one hand going to rest against your cramping stomach. At least the throbbing in your temples had died down…

Peter only shrugged at you, shoving his phone in his back pocket and rising to his feet. “Too bad,” he told you, offering a smile that most definitely wasn’t genuine. “I’ve gotta go, but make him walk you home, alright? I’ll text you if I hear anything else from Doctor Strange.”

Parker frowned beside you, and whether it was because Peter was speaking about him like he wasn’t here or because of his attitude in general, you couldn’t tell.

“Whoa, hold up! You didn’t even tell me what your plan is until you hear from him!” You argue, reaching for his wrist to keep him from walking past you until he answered.

He pulls his hand back from your grip, but not before your stare snags on the reddish hue that stains his nails—blood. Noticing it only served to make you feel sicker, and to make your concern for Peter grow larger. Was he really still walking around with May’s blood caked under his nails? Has he rested at all since last night?

“Same plan as always,” he told you, your eyes snapping up to meet his, suddenly noticing how rimmed with exhaustion they were. “Stop the bad guys.”

He didn’t leave any time for protests or further questions before turning his back to you and heading straight for the exit. When the little bell on the door chimed as he shoved his way back out onto the streets, you couldn’t stop the worried sigh that escaped your lips.

Peter was an Avenger by every right. He had battled alongside a Norse God and helped take down a literal Titan, and so knew that you shouldn’t have any reason to doubt his capability when it came to taking down whatever villains had crossed into your world.

But it wasn’t that you doubted his ability to survive against them, or even his ability to stop them—you were worried about whether he could handle the weight of it all.

The weight of him placing yet another thing on his shoulders. Another villain, another fight, another burden, another chance to lose someone.

Thinking of that, it suddenly dawned on you that maybe Mj and Ned weren’t getting the same treatment as you. Maybe you were getting the worst of it, if only because now whatever connection you had to the multiverse was just another weight he thought he had to bear, another person he had to worry about protecting.

Guilt flooded your veins, and even as you tried to remind yourself that you hadn’t caused this, you still couldn’t shake the anxious feeling that it was somehow your fault anyway.

“Y’know, I get that this probably isn’t the right time for this,” Parker starts. When you look at him, your attention immediately snags on the dozen donuts that he had ordered while you were talking to Peter. “But I think it’s so cool that you guys have magic in your world!”

He takes another bite of the donut in his hand, powdered sugar falling from his lips as he says, “And these donuts! It’s a tough call, but they might be even better than magic!”

You didn’t know him well enough to be able to tell if he was intentionally trying to lighten the mood or if it was just incidental, but it worked all the same. Laughter poured from your mouth, and it wasn’t until it died down that he said anything else.

“Sooo… That was tense, wasn’t it? Like, it wasn’t just me, right?”

You groan, propping your elbows against the counter and placing your cheeks in your palms. “Was it that noticeable?”

Parker snorts a laugh, stretching an arm past you to reach for Peter’s abandoned coffee. “Oh, yeah. It’s actually painful to be in a room with you two.”

His playful tone made it clear that it was just a joke, but it still made you feel bad. You already didn’t like how hostile things felt between you and Peter, even if it was only one-sided, and to know that others felt it too just made it that much worse.

“Things are just.. Difficult, right now.” You tell him, choosing your words carefully.

“So it hasn’t always been like that with you guys?” He asks, and the delicate arch of his brow made it seem as though he were shocked by the possibility that things had ever been civil between you and Peter.

There was a chance that you had misread his expression though, as it was very quickly wiped away once he took a sip of Peter’s half-drank coffee, gagging as soon as it hit his tongue. “Holy shi-” he started coughing, cutting off the vulgarities that threatened to spill out. “How does he drink this?!” Parker yelped as soon as he could take a full breath, looking utterly disgusted as he shoved the cup back across the bar. “It’s literally just liquid sugar!”

You found it hard to stifle your amusement at his suffering, even as he shot you a teasing scowl for it. “No,” you answer his previous question, trying to ignore his melodramatic display, “believe it or not, things between us actually used to be really… I don’t know—easy, I guess.”

Parker was still smacking his lips to try and rid himself of the cloying aftertaste. “What changed?”

In retrospect, you realized that it probably would have been smarter for you to bite your tongue. To offer him some cheap, cop-out excuse rather than tell him the truth. After all, you already had experience in hiding from the truth and it wasn’t like you really knew Parker, and so lying to him shouldn’t have been a hard task.

Yet, for some reason, you told him the truth anyway.

“Mj happened.”

Parker’s brows furrows. “The girl from last night, right?”

“Yep. That’s the one.”

“Y’know, I don’t really like her all that much,” his words were spoken like a balm, seeking to ease the dejected look etched upon your face, but tinged with enough playful sarcasm for you to know he didn’t actually mean them. “She threw a bread roll at me. A few of them, actually.”

It was hard not to laugh at the thought considering that it was such an Mj thing to do. “Sounds about right,” you crack a smile, although you don't feel particularly happy. “She’s always been slow to trust, especially complete strangers.”

In an odd sort of way, the statement felt like a lie. Not because it actually wasn’t true—because Mj was wary of strangers—but because Parker didn’t quite feel like a stranger in your mind. While last night had been a bit awkward, you now felt like talking to him was effortless, each sentence rolling off your tongue with unnatural ease.

“But she trusts you?” Parker asks, picking a crumb off another one of the pastries and popping it into his mouth.

You sucked in a breath.

“I don’t know,” you answer him, with a bit more honesty than you're comfortable with. “I mean, I know that she used to trust me. But now… I’m not even sure if she likes me anymore.”

His brow snapped up. “What changed?”

Suddenly the truth no longer felt so easy, and you found yourself wishing that you could change the subject altogether. You didn’t want to talk about this—especially not with him, some boy that you had known for less than twenty-four hours.

But you had backed yourself into a corner, and so in an effort to try and satiate whatever interest he had developed in the story you had told, you settled on offering a vague half-truth.

“She started dating Peter,” you tell him simply, putting effort into looking disinterested. “They got together a few months ago and things just… It just got weird, y’know? It’s always awkward when two of your friends get together, I guess. Creates too much drama.”

“Yeah, for sure,” Parker hums, agreeing with you. “Especially when you have feelings for him, right?”

An incomprehensible noise escaped your throat, best categorized as something between a laugh and a cough. Your mouth fell open to try and defend yourself, to try and deny his claim—but he didn’t even give you a chance.

“Oh c’mon!” Parker groans, grinning when he notices the now rosy complexion of your cheeks. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? I mean, let’s be real here, alright? That whole sugar thing earlier?” He jutted a finger towards Peter’s abandoned iced coffee, “Was a dead giveaway.”

“You’re insane,” You declare, shaking your head and masking your embarrassment with uncomfortable laughter. “I don’t have feelings for Peter—and even if I did, it wouldn’t matter! Regardless of what it’s done to our friendship, Mj is literally perfect for him and-”

“I think it’s cute,” he interrupts, a delicate smile gracing his lips. Noticing the way your brows furrow, he elaborated, “How much you care about him. And how much you care about her, too, since you’re so willing to pretend like you don’t like him.”

“I’m not pretending-”

Parker jokingly cut his eyes. “Yeah, sureee.”

Blowing a frustrated breath, you push yourself up from the barstool. “Alright, I think it’s time to go home.” You tell him, far too flustered to try and come up with a good defense to his teasing. “You can take the rest of your donuts to go, Bug-boy.”

There was a subtle shift in his demeanor as the taunting nickname fell from your lips, and he almost felt as though his heart had stopped dead in his chest.

“Fine,” Parker yields, rising to his feet and snagging the box of donuts from the bar. “But I really hope that you have your wallet—cause I definitely don’t have a way to pay for these.” He flashed a crooked smile before continuing, “Or we can just run really fast and hope they don’t call the police on us for stealing pastries.”

“I can’t imagine that robbery would be very good for your reputation as a hero,” you chide sarcastically, your own lips curling into a half-smile, “so I’ll pay—but only if you give me every cruller in that box. Deal?”

Parker spares a quick glance down at the dozen box of donuts in his hands. Half of them were already gone, but through the small cellophane window he could see that there were three frosted crullers left. “Deal.”

series masterlist

a/n - for those who read IY before the rewrite, you may already be able to note some rather major changes going on lmao. i genuinely can't describe how much i actually enjoy rewriting this story, as i'm finally able to collect my thoughts enough to write the plot the way i originally wanted to.

as always, please leave any feedback, opinions, etc.! any and all comments/reblogs definitely encourage me to write/edit faster! and, if you'd like to be added to the tag list, just let me know!

part three, titled "spitfire", to be released april 15th

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dragonpyre · 25 days

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More Peter Parker in Gotham bullshit. He's friends with his new neighbor Jason <3

Commission info ko-fi

#from a friends fic. unsure if they'll write this exact scene or not #for context: jason looks like a young Uncle Ben in this #that's why Peter liked him #marvel x dc #peter parker #jason todd #spiderman #red hood #marvel #dc #dc comics #fanart #fan art #my art #comic

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3typical3 · 11 months

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Tip for non Hispanic ppl writing Spanglish

*I initially wrote this at 1 am so like, keep that in mind as you decipher this lol

*context is key when speaking Spanglish, if your character is in a professional setting they probably won’t speak Spanglish unless it’s to a fellow co worker who also speaks Spanglish. It’s more of a casual way a speaking yk?

Also parents, I avoid Spanglish with my parents unless we’re switching from just speaking Spanish to just speaking English. But that’s depends from family to family.

It’s typically like switching sentences and not dropping in random words.

Example “ es Que fui a la tienda, and they were out of milk”

Example “ te ves cansada, did you sleep last night?”

“La neta” is and extremely common Mexican slang term, typically means, honestly. It can also be used to mean ‘really?’

Honestly example:

“La neta, Im tired”

Or “La neta, estoy cansada. Im going to bed”

In the case it means “really?”:

ex.) “Neta?! They said that?!”

I personally say “ de que” which is basically saying “like”, it’s a filled term, before saying a sentence in either English or Spanish

example “ de que idk it won’t work”

I’m Mexican so I use “ósea” a lot in both languages. Another substitute for words like:

“I mean,” “it'd be,” ”like,” “so,” “that is,” “therefore,” and “or.”

Ex. “ ósea, it looks weird idk”

The famous “ pero like” I personally don’t use a lot but an example of how it’s used in Spanglish is “ pero like, how did it happen?”

Sometimes I Just say “ fuck” but like in my Mexican accent or in a sentence.

“ fuck, perdí mi pulsera”

When I get startled I cuss in both English and Spanish but a Spanglish example would be

*insert random startling noise

“ ala verga! That scared me” or “ hijo de tu puta madre!” when something REALLY scared the shit out of me lol

“Chingada madre, where did that come from”

Rlly insert any cuss word in there and it probably works in Spanglish.

Edit bc I thought of this the morning after

In Mexican Spanish for whatever reason the word “madre” can be used like kinda like a cuss word lol.

Example “ Me vale madres”

Which in English would translate to “I don’t value mothers” but in practice means “I don’t give a shit” or “I don’t care”.

Another Mexican deep cut is the word “pedo” which yes, means fart but we’ve really given the word so many alternative meanings like

“ no es mi pedo “ = “not my problem”

“Estoy bien pedo” = “in rlly drunk”

“Vas a la peda?” = “ are you going to the party/kickback”

There’s more but that’s like the basics lol.

Also another Mexican term is “Aguas”… which literally translates to “waters” but it’s used as a warning.

“Aguas, there’s car coming”

The most famous of Mexican slang has to be “wey” or “guey” depends on how you spell it. But it just means dude. Another term that goes in hand is, “no mames” which basically means “are you kidding me”.

*men for whatever reason hate when the girl they’re dating or are into calls them wey. I think it’s because it’s seen as either improper or as like friend zoning.

“Wey, you’re not gonna believe this”

“No mames wey, look at this”

Another term is “equis” which basically means whatever

“How was the party?”

“Estuvo equis”

Another example

“ now was she dressed?”

“Equis, nothing crazy nothing wow”

*I recommend for Mexican characters looking into the words, or you can just ask me I just don’t wanna make this longer than I already have lol, “mamar”/“mamo”/“mamon”, each you would think is the same but no, no they are not and using one in the wrong context could be catastrophic lol. They are vital words to our vocab

If you’re writing to a character from a specific country, take the time to learn some slang. Sometimes slang crosses over, sometimes even we use slang we learn from each others dialects. Personally I love “joder”/“no jodas” because of the shows from Spain.

But take the time because if you write a Colombian character using most of the slang I’ve used above, you’d get a lot of hate from Colombians lol.

Some bad Spanglish examples would be

“ why didnt you eat your comida?”

Like no. Just no. Inserting a random Spanish word doesn’t equate to Spanglish, at least not in most Latin peoples lives

“ you look cansada” also just no.

*Edit I saw someone post abt this and I felt like adding it in

If you do insert a random Spanish word or vice versa it’s because you forgot the word but that involves a lot of blanking and being annoyed you can’t dig the simplest word out of you sub conscience lol

Example: “ you look, FUCK what’s the word! You know when you’re cansada…TIRED. You look tired”

Another commenter addition I’ll be adding is using “eh” as a filler instead of “um”. I use both but even in English I default to using “eh” or “ehmmmm”

The worst is when you don’t remember the word, only to have it appear in your subconscious hours later lol

Another fav filler word is “deste” which equates to another more Central American term “vaina” but a less refined way of saying it. Essentially they mean “thing” but that thing can be anything. It’s kinda a word when you’re to lazy to say the actual word.

“Pásame el deste”

*passes them x ítem

“No I meant the remote”

*trying not to kill the person because they could’ve said remote the whole time but chose not to

Sometimes we use bad Spanglish on purpose just to be funny

“Que sad” “Que cute”

* i personally love inserting the word cute into my vocab in Spanish just cuz so to each their own

Something I do is like say something in English and immediately say the exact same thing in Spanish. Or like I’ll say an exclamation in one language then end in the other.

“ GO GO GO, VÁMONOS APÚRATE”

“Que asco, gross”

“WOW, que bueno”

Also if you’re writing like couples tbh nicknames in Spanish would be reserved for when you’re speaking in Spanish and same for English, but each couple is different so if you rlly want to leave a nickname in Spanish in go for it. If you rlly want the endearment to be “ mi amor” please remember that after like the first or second time the Spanish speaker would probably just refer to their S/O as “ amor” or switch between the two.

Which brings me to the terms “mami/mamita” and “papi/papito”. Now, while they Can and are by some used in a sexual manner, they can also be used as general terms of endearment. My mom will sometimes call me mamita or my brother papito.

Amongst couples though it’s just kinda said, I saw someone describe it was you just give motherly energy so “mami” is said lol which I get oddly enough.

Once a couple is well established or just comfortable the woman can refer to her S/O as “ viejo” which is old man lol, but it’s like cute. On the flip side idk it’s typically seen as offensive when a man calls his S/O “vieja” but that depends on culture to culture.

Again mami and papi don’t have to be sexual but can be.

Another simple thing you can do is look up nicknames for certain names.

Examples:

“Mike” pronounced “Mique” for Miguel. Some people like to use “Mickey”, that gained popularity from an old Mexican singer lol.

“Ponchó” For Alfonso

“Ale” Can be used for Alejandro/Alexandra/Alejandra

Another thing I thought of is amongst siblings when referring to our parents we will say like

“Haz visto a mi mamá”

Which means have you seen “my mom” even though she’s both our mom… idk it’s weird but a nice little touch you could add to your writing lol

I get rlly annoyed reading bad Spanglish, sometimes it’s just painfully cringe and just obvious a non Spanish speaker wrote it, and I realize it’s bc most of y’all didnt grow up with it so like this is just what is typical Spanglish most Hispanic ppl grow up speaking, obviously not everyone speaks like this but figured I’d give tips from someone who actually speaks English and Spanish and switches between.

If I missed anything feel free to add on or if you disagree add examples

#writing tips #writing #fan fic #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x reader #namor x reader #pedro pascal #oscar issac #tenoch huerta #marvel #spiderman #hispanic #fan fic writing

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melodygatesauthor · 10 months

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Miguel O’Hara - Random Horny Thot #2 - Cock Worship

NSFW

----

You are a slave to Miguel’s cock. It’s that simple.

There’s nothing you want more than to be on your knees, shoulders brushing his inner thighs while the delicious musk of his thick cock fills your nostrils. You’re salivating at the scent, bringing your face closer and feeling the soft skin of his still flaccid shaft against your lips.

You can feel the blood rushing through the veins just below the surface; hear the quiet breathy moan that leaves his lips. You dart out your tongue, flattening and gliding it over the length of him. It tastes like…him.

He’s getting harder with every pass of your tongue over the fat head of his (too big) cock. He’s brushing your cheek and telling you how much he loves the hungry look in your eye. He’s hoping that you’ll devour him, bringing his cock deep down your throat until you’re choking and gasping for air.

You do…of course you do. You are a good girl after all, or so he tells you. You’ve got your hands on both of his powerful thighs, holding on for dear life while you breathe in the smell of his pubic hair as it brushes against your nose. You love it. It feels soft and inviting, like you want to keep going in for more…and so you do.

Miguel sounds good, as if he’s never fucked a mouth like yours before. He fills the room with his rough, primal growls like you’d never heard. He thinks it feels good too, your little throat stretching out to make room for his thick cock. You’re crying now, eyes stinging with the tears that ruin the makeup you wore just for him. You know how much he likes making a disaster of your beautiful face, red lipstick streaking along his cock from your lips, mascara staining your cheeks.

“Mm, así cariño,” he says, brushing his thumb over your cheek affectionately.

When you can’t handle it anymore, despite how badly you want to, you’re taking both of your hands and wrapping them around his girth. One hand simply isn’t big enough to fit around him. So you’re stroking along his spit slick length, jerking him and rolling your tongue around the head of his cock. You notice the way his talons are digging into the wood on the arms of the chair.

When he comes it’s a fucking mess. He’s bucking his hips forward and spilling into your mouth, and when you’re so full you can’t take any more, it dribbles down your chin. Even after your mouth is full he’s still coming…and now it’s on your face, in your hair, and later you’ll see that somehow, a little bit got on the wall a few feet behind you.

And because you love his cock so fucking much, you still can’t stop yourself from kissing it while it softens, like you’re thanking it for feeding you, as if it’s your lifeline, because sometimes…that’s how it feels.

——

Any of my blurbs can be used as inspo for a fic. Please tag me for credit. Thank you!

Random Blurbs Masterlist

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fan fiction #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara fic #across the spiderverse fanfiction #across the spiderverse #atsv #spiderman across the spiderverse #miguel o’hara drabble #miguel o’hara blurb

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starlordsandrockets · 2 months

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One Bad Party

pairing: college!Peter Parker x Reader: 18+

word count: 6k

summary: After being broken up with at a house party, you return back to the compound at 3am to find Peter waiting for you.

a/n: Heyyy sorry I've been playing Baldur's Gate to escape my writers block. But here you go, feedback is appreciated bc I feel like this fic fell flat a bit??? Idk lol

There was only one question that kept crossing Peter’s mind whenever he saw you sneaking out of the compound to see your boyfriend: Were you sleeping with the guy?

Peter had no right to be this jealous. It was not like he had a chance with you. Peter tried, but he could barely hold a conversation with you without withdrawing into himself. He became a stuttering mess and before long he would find himself retiring, far too embarrassed to stay in the same room as you.

Peter looked up from his textbook. He was sitting in his dim room, studying at his desk. Or at least, he was attempting to study. The only thing running through his mind was the outfit you were wearing as you left the compound.

Your bare leg flashed past your large black coat as you brushed off a comment from Tony. A black satin slip could be made out, hugging your curves as you wrapped the coat’s fabric around you, wishing to hide yourself from Tony’s judging gaze.

The thought of you was pushed out of Peter’s brain as he pushed out his chair, rising to his feet. He needed to clear his head for a bit.

Peter found himself staring into the kitchen’s large fridge, eyes scanning his options without a single processing thought. He wondered if you were coming home tonight. Not that it mattered, it was not like there was anyone special to come home to. Reaching out, Peter grabbed a cold, glass bottle. Studying the label he shrugged before opening the beer. The cold glass pressed against his warm skin as he took a sip.

The alcohol could never affect his senses, unless he were to make sure of it, but he still liked the taste of beer. He winced after his next sip, second guessing himself. Glancing at the time, it was almost three in the morning and Peter found himself praying for your arrival to the compound. Clearly, he needed some air to push his clouded thoughts of you out of his head. Right?

“Friday,” Peter spoke quietly with his drink in hand.

“Yes Peter?”

“I’m going outside,” He informed the system.

“Of course, Peter. It is currently 40 degrees. I would recommend a jacket,”

“Thanks,” Peter smiled, hand finding a hoodie that he managed to leave in the lounge last night. How Tony had not thrown it on the ground in front of his bedroom door already was a surprise.

Opening the door, the cold air hit him, making him shiver slightly.

Peter remembered what you had on when you left, and he only hoped you were inside somewhere nice and warm. Placing his bottle down on the tiny porch’s only step, he took an awkward seat on the cold stone. He rubbed his hands together, now wishing he had made a warm cup of coffee instead. Placing the bottle against his lips, he tilted his head back. He studied the stars as he took a few large sips of beer.

“What are you Tony’s guard dog?” Your voice rang through his ears, taking him off guard. You watched him begin to choke slightly, “‘Cause you’re shit at it,”

“N-No,” His single word was separated by a heavy cough, “I couldn’t sleep,” Peter knew half a beer was not affecting him, but somehow he was feeling a little confident, “and I noticed you weren’t back yet so-”

“So you’re up playing parent?” You studied where he was spread on the step, blocking your way to the door. Sure, you could go around him, but you already stumbled your way up the compound’s extremely long driveway.

“No- I just- it’s so cold and I was remembering what you were wearing when you left and I-” Peter rambled below you.

“Please give me a break. I heard enough from Tony before I left and I sure as hell don’t want to hear it again, especially from you,” You shot back. Your words were almost flowing like vomit, slurring and sloshing out of your quivering lips.

“No- No I- Y/N,” Peter shook his head. Moving his hands, he attempted to stand up, however his arm knocked against his bottle. The glass fell against the stone, shattering almost instantly. Staring at it, he almost laughed at how it reflected the conversation that hung in the frigid air.

“You’re in my way and I’m cold, so please,” Your gaze fell to your pointy heels as you wrapped your coat’s fabric around you tightly. Closing your eyes you did not want to see Peter stumbling before you in response to your hurtful tone. However, you also did not want him to see the tears that were forming in your eyes, “goodnight,” You muttered, pushing the heavy door open.

“Y/N,” Peter called after you. He watched as you attempted to outrun him, however your imbalance twisted your ankles in your heels, “Hey-” He called out, reaching out, he steadied you as you began to crumble.

Inhaling, your stuffy nose played audibly, directing Peter’s gaze, “No,” You spoke defensively, “No- I’m not- it’s not. Peter,”

“What did he do?” Peter studied your face, “Your makeup- Before you left, you did that little thing you started doing,” He motioned to your eyes, “the little flick. And now it’s gone and your mascara is smudged under there-”

“Peter…” You stared back at him, confused as to why Peter would pay so much attention to you, if any at that. He was Spider-Man and you were Tony’s assistant who just got to live here because it was more convenient for the billionaire.

“No, because did he do something?” Peter questioned. His voice cracked slightly, making him clear his throat.

“Why do you care?” You questioned back, not sure where the question came from. Well, you knew because that is exactly what you were thinking. But, you were unsure as to why you were so blunt. Maybe you were still a little buzzed.

Peter’s hold on you loosened as the question passed through your lips. He could not confess to you, not now. He had thought of so many ways to tell you how he felt, and this was not one of them.

He studied your appearance. Your makeup was a ghost of the painted picture it was hours before, and your posture was folded in on itself, as if you wished the dark compound to swallow you and allow you to hide away, “Because I knew he’d do something,”

“Y-You,” You stuttered, “don’t even know his name,” Peter’s brown gaze was serious, and it was a look you had never seen him wear. You were never around for important missions, just to make small talk to him at the coffee maker or Tony’s stupid little lounge parties.

“Don’t have to,” Peter spoke, “if he treated you any better I feel like you would’ve mentioned him to someone. To Nat when you guys share your coffee in the morning or Mr. Stark would bring him up during his parties to embarrass you… or to annoy me,”

You did not address his last claim. You just wanted to go to your room and cry, “I’m just… I’m a private person,” You shrugged, not meeting Peter’s gaze any longer. You heard him laugh slightly, a short exhale passing through his lips, “what?”

“I just- My body doesn’t let me get drunk so you wouldn’t believe how much I know about everyone from Mr. Stark’s dumb parties,” He watched as you met his eyes once again, “Y-You,” He paused, your gaze stirring up butterflies, “You say a lot when you’re drunk,”

“Like what?” You pried, watching Peter smile slightly.

“That’s how I found out,” Peter spoke, “Mr. Stark-” He paused, remembering the night Tony had tried so hard to get the two of you together after finding out Peter’s crush on you, “he suggested spin the bottle,” He heard you scoff, “Yeah well, that’s when you refused to play because you ‘met a guy’ and it was ‘kind of serious’,”

“So,” You spoke, “We were,” The word slipped as your gaze froze.

“...Were?” Peter questioned.

“Peter,” You shook your head.

“What do you mean?” Peter pushed.

“Peter, I’m tired,”

“Did he break up with you?”

“It’s like 3am and I want to get this fucking dress and heels off,” You spoke over him, watching him freeze in front of you.

He could help you with that, “Sorry,” Peter spoke, “You don’t have to tell me,” Peter wanted to slip that dress off of you.

“It’s not,” You sighed, feeling guilty as if you kicked a puppy, “It’s not like we talk. You know? When’s the last time we had a conversation like this?” You watched as Peter’s posture straightened in front of you, but in reality it felt like he was about to crumble from your piercing words.

“Right…” Peter spoke, knowing when to take a hint. “Sorry,” He stepped aside, allowing you to claw at the straps of your heels. It felt as if he was letting you slip right through his fingers. Sure, he did not want to be a rebound but at this point, he did not want you to think he had no intention of ever speaking to you, “It’s not that I haven’t tried,”

“What?” You questioned, planting a bare foot on the ground. The heel hung loosely in your grasp as you stared back at him.

“I try to talk to you- A lot actually… but,” Peter specified, “I’m just not great at it- I mean, I’m not even good at it,”

You paused, as awkward silence fell after Peter’s words, “Okay,” You smiled slightly, “Well, maybe we can talk in the morning? Over breakfast? If I’m not hungover,”

“Right,” Peter smiled in defeat, “Sure,” He watched as you pressed your lips in an awkward smile, the lipstick that was once there was now faded. You slipped the other shoe off your foot before turning towards the hallway. You made your way a few steps down the hall to the elevator doors, leaving Peter to stare right at you from where you left him, “It’s because I like you,” He spoke, surely low enough.

The elevator dinged but you did not walk inside it, not yet. You were at a standstill, your brain processing Peter’s quiet confession. Staring into the bright elevator, you watched as the doors began to slowly close. How could Peter like you when you found out your boyfriend had been cheating on you? Why would anyone like you?

“You’re-” You mumbled, “You’re fucking with me,” Turning, you dared to meet Peter’s far off gaze, “Stop fucking with me,”

“W-What?” Peter stuttered, watching you walk closer to him.

“You’re Spider-Man,” You informed, watching his head tilt slightly out of confusion.

“...Yeah? Yeah, but what does that have to do with anything?” Peter questioned, his eyes trailed all over your body, forgetting that you could see his every move.

“Why would you…” You wrapped your coat around you in response to Peter’s gaze, “I’m just Tony’s assistant,” You stopped in your tracks, not able to get any closer to Peter.

“Why would I?-” His question fell short as he realized you had heard his quiet confession, “Oh,” Peter watched you nod shyly, “Don’t… don’t you want to get out of your clothes?”

“What?” You questioned, feeling your face heat up out of embarrassment.

“No- No! God, I just-” Peter stammered, “You said you wanted to change- I thought you could do that and maybe like, take off your makeup and then we could talk. Or, or we could do that in the morning- if you’re not hungover,” He repeated your earlier claim.

“Yeah… yeah,” You spoke, “I’ll go- I’ll go change,” You nodded, lips pressed together, “but, could you help me? These heels killed my feet,”

“Yeah,” Peter spoke, “Yeah, of course,” He was hesitant, hands reaching out. Peter hand touched you before, when he caught steadied you moments before, but now it felt different. Now you know, “Here,” Peter took in a quick breath before he slipped your large coat off of your skin. You almost looked nude, the dress under your coat was small compared to the coat’s large exterior. He folded the fabric before he tucked it under his arm, “and I can carry those,” He reached out towards your shoes that hung off of your curled finger.

“Thanks,” You smiled to yourself. However, your smile soon faded to a blank expression as you felt Peter’s fingertips on the small of your back. His hand soon flattened and you swore you could feel his sweaty palm through your thin dress.

***

The two of you silently made your way through an awkward elevator ride and stumbled your way to your room. Peter opened the door, watching you slip past him and into the dark room. You let out a loud sigh of relief after Peter shut the door behind him, “What?” He almost laughed.

“Feels good to be home,” You replied, “That party was a fucking nightmare,” You smiled, your lips quivered as you felt tears threaten to spill, “I didn’t want to go. I shouldn’t have,”

“Y/N,” Peter said, approaching you, he gathered a handful of your dress’s fabric, “Remember what I said,” The tone of his voice drew your attention. You never heard that slightly dominant tone pass through his lips before, “We can talk after. Okay?”

“Mhm,” You hummed, lips pressed nervously, “Right,” He began to hike up the fabric, the cool fabric tickling your thighs, “Peter,”

He had started helping you without a second thought. Peter was completely lost in you, functioning on autopilot. Your words brought him back to reality, “Sorry- I,” He turned, facing the wall, “I’m sorry- I forgot I was done helping. I got you here,”

You slipped the dress over your hips and past your chest, “Yeah,” You broke the silence, “but,” That word made Peter turn his head in time to check a glance of your exposed skin. The dress’s fabric covered your face as you slowly slipped it over your head.

Could you see him staring? Peter took in the sight of your underwear and push-up bra for another second before turning his head back to the wall. His face must have been red. He felt his cheeks begin to grow warm. Peter also felt something else begin to grow and he hoped it was not noticeable.

“Could you help me?” You continued, now slipping a long, black night shirt over your skin. You wished you had anything else to wear to bed, anything sexier than an oversized shirt.

“Help with what?” Peter questioned, back still facing you. He watched as your room lit up a bit brighter from switching on the bathroom light.

“My makeup,” You almost groaned, “I’m too tireddd,” You placed your arms on the counter’s cool surface. Looking at your reflection you were reminded of the night you just had. Your mascara pooled under your lash line but you were still surprised Peter had noticed, “Peter,” You called out, hands covering your face, smudging your makeup even further.

Peter entered your small bathroom, taking in the space he had never seen before, “What’s up?” He watched as you blindly dug through one of your drawers. A pack of makeup wipes appeared in front of him as you leaned further onto the counter, a tired groan vibrating past your lips, “Okaaay,” Peter laughed, “Come’re then,” He took the pack, setting it down before he reached out. Turning you around, you faced him now. Your eyes were still closed from when you were rubbing your tired eyes, “Just one?”

“Mhm,” You nodded, finally opening your eyes. That is when you realized how close Peter was. You studied his hands as he peeled open the makeup wipes. His fingers were long and slender, making something in you stir. You focused on his fingers moving around the cloth in his large hands.

“Hey,” Peter spoke, taking hold of your face with his free hand, “I have to see your face to take the makeup off,” He laughed. The smile quickly faded as he studied your face in his hold, a look of embarrassment flooded his face. Peter realized not only how close he was to you, but was reminded just how pretty you were. Nervousness traveled up his spine, making him shiver slightly, “Right,” He spoke, clearing his throat as you stared back up at him.

His touch was gentle as he replaced his hand with the makeup wipe, making you jump, “cold,” you muttered, nervous at Peter’s closeness.

“Sorry,” Peter replied, rubbing the makeup off of your skin.

“Don’t look too close,” You laughed, “I’m not that pretty up close,” You chose your words wisely, not wanting Peter to think you were baiting for a compliment.

But that was exactly what was running through Peter’s head. Peter was trying to find the right words to say so he did not seem like he was as obsessed with you as he was, “I think you’re pretty,” Was all he managed to admit, watching your gaze snap right to his loving brown gaze, “I mean… I can move- if you think I’m too close,”

“You think I’m pretty?” You mentally kicked yourself as the cliche question slipped past your lips.

“Yeah,” Peter nodded. Pretty was an understatement, “You’re probably the prettiest girl I know,” He tested the water.

“Nat and Wanda live here,” You spoke, “So I think you’re lying,”

“Nah,” Peter focused on your eyes, “Close your eyes,” He instructed, watching you do as you were told. He felt as if he should use this to his advantage, that way you could not affect him with your gaze, “I thought that since the day you got here. Plus, Nat and Wanda kind of scare me,” He watched you smile slightly.

“I don’t scare you?” You questioned, feeling his breath on your skin, making your lips press closed.

“A little, but in a good way,” He admitted.

“Yeah?” You laughed to yourself, eyes still closed, “And what is that supposed to mean?”

Peter did not answer, he was far too embarrassed and lost in the thought of you. The ‘good way’ was that it turned him on, “There,” He finally spoke as he studied your cleaned face.

“You didn’t answer my question,” You spoke, however your words fell short as Peter dragged the makeup wipe across your mouth.

“Sorry- Missed a spot,” He teased, watching you stick out your tongue at the bitter taste of the wipe.

You made your way to the sink, washing your face with cold water. Peter stood silently behind you, studying you through the mirror. Or you assumed so, not daring to meet his brown gaze.

“Sooooooo… you want to talk about it now?” He finally questioned as you dried your face off on a soft towel.

“About the party?” You questioned, hanging up the towel, “Or… about what you said? Earlier,”

Peter’s head fell, studying his fingers that intertwined, absentmindedly, “W-Whatever… whichever you want to first,”

Walking out of the small bathroom, you placed a finger on its light switch. You stared at Peter, waiting for him to follow you, “Yeah… whichever,” However, Peter did not budge, “That party…” You started, “that paaarty was… the worst night of my life,” You laughed before switching off the light. Walking over to your bed, you fell back onto it. However, you regretted it, feeling the alcohol move around in your stomach as your head spun, “...fuck. I’m so fucking stupid,”

“You’re not,” Peter interrupted.

Raising your head, you stared at him for a moment before your gaze returned to the ceiling, “I knew he was talking to someone else. I mean, I suspected it. Turning the phone away when I was too close. Locking it as soon as I entered the room. The lying… I could tell by the mannerisms, by his facial tics,” You groaned, “But you know… ‘he was different’... I was just into him because he barely gave me the time of day unless we were fucking,”

Those words clicked in Peter’s head.

You were fucking that guy.

“The one time I mentioned him to Tony and he read him like a book and I just… God, I just didn’t want Tony to be right,” You somewhat laughed, “Because I hate it when he’s right,”

“You deserve so much better than that guy,” Peter spoke.

“What? I should be glad he fucking cheated on me? Glad that I showed up to the party, only to find him grinding on her ass and she was wearing the same fucking thing I was wearing?”

“Y/N,”

“What?” You heard the pity in his voice, “I don’t need you to feel bad for me-”

“I’m not- I just can’t believe anyone would do that to you. It pisses me off because if I ever had a chance with you I would never take advantage of it,” Peter admitted, “You’re way out of my league- and I bet you were for him too- and god if I ever fucked up like him I think I’d be the biggest idiot,” You stared back at him, a small smile sat on your lips, “...What?”

“You… actually do like me?” You questioned.

“Well… yeah,” Peter replied, red-faced, “I’m- I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out yet. I feel like I’m so obvious. Literally everyone here knows it,”

“I had no clue,” You almost laughed.

“Really?”

You both felt the mood shift, as Peter sat at the end of your bed, “Yeah… I don’t know. We hardly talked and when we do you always end up leaving… you know,” You rambled, staring at the ceiling, “I always thought I scared you or something, you know, because I just… don’t know how to talk to people really. Everyone I meet always goes off to tell someone they think I’m stuck up- Or if I don’t talk I’m a bitch,”

“I like hearing you talk,” Peter spoke, absentmindedly. Your eyes fell on him as he looked down at you, “You- You’re… interesting and really cool,”

“Y-Yeah?” You laughed somewhat at his awkwardness, “Well… thanks. You too- I mean, you’re cool…too,”

“I-I’m… not cool, like at all,” Peter looked surprised, “I’m super awkward and I like the dumbest stuff,”

“It's not dumb,” You picked up your head, “You’ll convince me to finish Star Wars one day,” You watched a grin curl his lips, “Really. I like it when you talk about stuff you like. I really like it,” You watched Peter’s hand move towards your face. His fingers brushed back some hair that sat out of place, “...My ex- Well he was always too cool to like anything. You know- one of those guys. He was too cool for everything…”

“How about we don’t talk about him anymore” Peter spoke. He stared at you, wanting to touch you. So he tested the water, running his fingers through your hair.

“Mhm,” You hummed in response, eyes closing with each pet of your head. Your eyes felt heavy as your body reminded you that it was probably around four in the morning.

“Do you want me to leave?” Peter questioned, catching a glimpse of your closing eyes, “so you can sleep,”

“No,” You admitted, “I want you to stay and keep touching my hair,” You heard Peter laugh from above you.

“Fine, but I need you to get on the bed more,” He stood up, waiting for you to position yourself on the bed from where you happened to just flop over.

You slowly got adjusted under the covers as you watched Peter walk towards your bathroom, “Is it okay if I use your bathroom?”

“Mhm,” You hummed again as you waited for him to return. You heard the light switch off as you felt your heart begin to beat faster at the idea of Peter sharing a bed with you, “You don’t mind staying, right? Is it weird?”

“No… I mean- do you think it’s weird?” He questioned, standing at the side of your bed.

“No,”

“Yeah… it’s fine then,” Peter almost held his breath as he entered your covers. He could hear your heart racing next to him, however it was almost overpowered with the sound of his own heart pounding in his ears.

Peter laid on his back as he felt you shifting by his side. He did not dare look your way, eyes fixated on the ceiling of your room as his eyes adjusted to the dark room.

“Goodnight,” You whispered from your spot next to him, feeling Peter’s body jump slightly from your quiet voice breaking the heavy silence, “sorry,”

“N-Night,” Peter replied, hearing you laugh to yourself from behind the sheets.

***

You stirred, as light from the room’s large windows broke your slumber. Your head was pounding as you tried to recall last night. That is when you remembered that the arm that was wrapped around you was Peter’s and not your ex’s.

Peter’s arm laid across your hip as you laid on your side, eyes staring at the wall, attempting to process what exactly unfolded last night.

You were not drunk. You remember every moment, but every moment felt like a dream.

Taking a deep breath, you turned to face Peter’s sleeping face.

Your gaze traveled across his soft skin, eyes bouncing from freckle to freckle. His lashes fluttered, looking as if he was still experiencing a dream.

Reaching out, you rested your hand on his side. You felt Peter pull you closer to him while he slept, “P-Pete,” You whispered, afraid of your morning breath.

“mmm,” Peter groaned as you shook him slightly, by his waist. You watched as he eventually stirred awake, “H..hey,” He spoke quietly, eyes barely open, “How’d you sleep?”

“Not as good as you,” You joked, as his hold on you tightened. Peter still drifted in and out of his sleeping state, “Since… you know. You’re all cuddled up next to me,”

“Hm?” He questioned, eyes finally opening, “Oh- Sorry,”

“It’s- It’s fine,” Your hand took hold of his shirt before he could attempt to move away from you. You stared at his face, his brown gaze refusing to meet your eyes. Every thought that bounced around your head told you to kiss him, hell, every cell in your body was inching towards him; grasp on the fabric pulling your bodies closer.

For a moment your gaze fell to his lips before your lashes fluttered shut, lips pressing against Peter’s for a forceful kiss.

Taken aback, Peter’s eyes widened before they squeezed shut as he attempted to hold back the lust that began to flood through him, “Hey- he- hmm,” Peter hummed against your lips as your kiss smothered any word that attempted to leave. He kissed you back, hands traveling underneath the hem of your shirt’s large fabric.

His sweaty palms traced your curves, studying you even behind closed eyes. Peter felt himself begin to be swept away, worried he would not be able to resurface. Pushing you away by your hip, he attempted to pull out from your hungry kiss, “Hey… Y/N,” Peter watched as your mood shifted almost instantly, looking as if your heart had shattered all over again from the night before, “No- no, it’s just- Y/N I won’t be able to stop,” Peter attempted to explain, “Y/N, I want you… I think about it more than I’d like to admit and it always ends up with me not being able to help myself…”

“I want you… Peter,” You thought for a moment, “I need you,”

“I don’t want to hurt you like he did… or worse,” Peter thought about his strength.

“You won’t. I know you wouldn’t hurt me,” You sat up, watching Peter roll onto his back. Picking up a leg, you swung it over his own, straddling his waist. You were never this forward, but you were always this desperate.

You always had feelings for Peter, you just never thought someone like him would reciprocate.

With that thought, you felt Peter’s hands grasp the plush skin of your thighs, “You- You’re sure?”

“Please,” You breathed out before Peter flipped you on the bed, pushing your face into one of the bed’s plush pillows. You felt as he hiked up the fabric of your shirt, exposing your panties to him. His dominant palm rubbed circles on the side of your ass before you heard him take a deep breath.

This time, it was time for you to take in a breath as Peter began to pull the fabric of your panties down.

You would be lying if you said you were not self continuous about Peter seeing your body for the first time in such an intimate way. The entirety of your last relationship had you on edge, hoping you were good enough.

Suddenly, the bunching fabric halted, making your breath stop as well, “Relax,” You heard Peter speak. Bending over your back, Peter planted a kiss on your ear, making you shutter.

“I- I just… he really messed me up I think,” You laughed to yourself, “so. So I don’t think you could ever hurt me more than him,” As the claim left your lips, Peter flipped you back onto your back, “Pete-” You heard the tearing of fabric as Peter, literally, ripped your panties off your legs.

He shifted down on your bed, ignoring your claims to the torn fabric. Peter’s heart was beating out of his chest as he grew closer to what was hidden behind the silky fabric. Placing his hands on your knees, he spread your locked legs, “Hey,” He watched as you locked eyes with him and that is when he felt a switch flip in him, “I don’t want to hear you talk about him anymore,” Your wide eyes stared back at him, “Okay?”

You nodded.

“I want to hear you say it,”

“Okay…” You mustered the courage.

“Okay? Okay what?” Peter’s fingers trailed along your skin. Closer and closer to your wet folds. His touch circled you almost teasingly.

“I won’t talk about him anymore,” You answered.

“Good,” Peter almost smiled, but there was a newfound cockiness behind his words. His thumb brushed against your clit, “Why shouldn’t you?”

“What?” You almost whimpered, wanting the teasing to end.

“Why shouldn’t you talk about him anymore?”

“I… I don’t know,” You spoke with frustration. However, Peter’s gaze made you think about giving a better answer, “Because… because I deserve better?”

“Is that a question?”

“No…” You whined as Peter gently thumbed your clit, however it was not enough, “Peter please,”

“Fine,” Peter smiled at your desperation. Lowering himself, he placed your legs over his shoulders. He took in the sight before him, fingers running through your wet folds, “You’re so wet... You like it when I tease you or something?”

“...No- it makes me mad,” You spoke, unfiltered, not wanting to focus on the fact that Peter was seeing your flaws so up close.

“I don’t know, I think you like it,” He spoke, inserting his index finger into you, watching you wither in front of him, “So pretty,” Peter spoke under his breath. He listened as you attempted to hold back a few quiet moans, “You sound so pretty… wanna hear you,” Curling his fingers, he hit you at a different angle, making your eyes roll, head rolling back into your pillow, “Yeah?” He almost laughed, “Right there?”

You nodded, knowing if you parted your lips, you would not be able to shut up. However, Peter had other plans, his fingers moving in and out of you even faster. “FFffuckk,” You moaned, eyes screwed shut, “Pete-” His name was cut short, interrupted by a louder moan as Peter’s lips found your clit. He gave it a wet kiss before his tongue explored you.

Your ex never did this, and if he ever did, the foreplay lasted only long enough to make sure you were wet for him. Mentally, you kicked yourself, finding your brain occupied by your ex even though Peter just told you to not talk about him, “Are you thinking about him?” You heard Peter ask like clockwork.

“W-What?” You stuttered, opening your eyes. Looking down, you meet Peter’s dominant gaze.

“You stopped moaning,” Peter spoke, “Your eyebrows are all… furrowed- and not in a sexy way,” He added an extra finger into you, hearing you moan at the action, “I can stop- If you’re not over him I’d rather stop than you think about him the whole time,”

“No- No… Sorry,” You breathed out, “I- I know you told me not to talk about him but- I… I was just thinking about how he never… he never did this,” You rambled as Peter’s fingers still pumped in and out of you slowly, “fffuck- and- and I just-”

“Guess I’ll have to make up for lost time,” Peter somewhat joked before his lips returned to your clit. He placed a wet kiss between your legs before he continued to pleasure you.

“Please,” You breathed out, almost relieved. You were relieved that you no longer had to beg for anything you deserved, because Peter was ready to give it to you instantly.

A shaking moan passed through your lips as Peter inserted a finger into you. He was slow at first, taking in your small, breathless moans; however he found his hunger for you growing.

He continued to work you with his mouth and finger, before inserting another digit. Pulling away from your heated skin, Peter spoke, “I wanna hear you say my name,” He breathed out.

“W-What?” You stuttered through your waves of pleasure.

“Wanna hear you say my name,” Peter repeated, “And I never want to hear you say his again,”

“Mm,” You groaned at his dominance.

“What was that?” Peter questioned, slowing his fingers that pumped in and out of you. It pained him to do so, he wanted to please you desperately, but he also wanted to prove his point.

“Yes,” You breathed out, “...please,”

“Please?” Peter questioned.

“Pleaseee,” You drew out, mustering the courage to speak his name in such an intimate setting, “Peter,”

“Good,” Peter’s lips curled into a subtle, cocky smile. His fingers found their previous pace before pumping even faster.

“Ff-fuck,” You moaned. You heard Peter hum in response, as if he was questioning you, “Peter,” You repeated his name. With that his smiling lips return to your clit, his tongue only increasing your pleasure, “I- I’m so close,”

“Need you to cum for me,” Peter spoke quickly before returning between your legs. He found a rhythm that made you a stuttering mess, and stuck with it.

“I’m- I’m going to cum,” You moaned, hand falling between your legs. Your fingers tangled in his soft, brown locks. Your hips jutted, meeting his tongue halfway with each thrust. You felt as if you were losing your mind, not sure when the last time you experienced this much pleasure was, “Fuck Peter- I’m-” Your words fell short as you came. Your eyes screwed shut as Peter continued to taste you. Waves of pleasure jutted through you, making your body twitch with each stroke from Peter’s tongue, “f-f fuck- too… too much,” You breathed out, hands trying to push Peter’s face away from you.

“Sorry,” Peter spoke, crawling up your body. He fell to his side, laying next to you on the bed, “How was that?” He watched your chest rise and fall as you attempted to catch your breath.

Small laughter fell from your parted lips as you realized just how long it was taking you to recover from the pleasure, “I… I haven’t felt like that in… well, in a long time,”

“And that’s a good thing? It was good?” Peter questioned, hoping that his attempt would make you forget all about your ex.

“No- Yeah,” You breathed, “I haven’t cum that hard in awhile,” You added, “Just… just give me a minute and we can keep going,”

“Keep going?” Peter questioned.

“Yeah. I mean, you’re probably really hard,” You spoke, “or… I hope you are,”

“Yeah,” Peter laughed, “I am. But we can stop,”

“Why?” Your head turned towards him from where you stared at the ceiling, “Do you not want me anymore?”

“What? No- I mean. I want you,” Peter spoke, “I really want you- but I. I want to take things slow… with you,” He studied your worried expression, “If that’s okay,”

“Oh… yeah,” You nodded, “I just. I thought you’d want me to return the favor,”

“Another time,” Peter spoke, “I’ll be waiting- but no rush,” He watched you laugh to yourself.

Peter was the kindest person you have met in a long time and it made you wonder why you even settled for anyone else.

“Fine,” You agreed, “but I thought you ‘wouldn’t be able to stop yourself’,” You almost teased, watching Peter roll onto his back next to you.

“Yeah, yeah,” He laughed.

“Yeah… so forgive me if I thought something was wrong,” You spoke sarcastically.

“I just- I didn’t want to do whatever he did,” Peter spoke, “Because I like you and I don’t just want to fuck you,” Peter spoke, “I just want you to understand that. And I want you to have time to get over him,”

“Thanks,” You spoke quietly, “...You wanna go make breakfast?”

#marvel smut #marvel fanfic #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fic #marvel fic #peter parker fan fic #spider man fanfic #spider man fanfiction #peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #spiderman smut #spider man x reader #spiderman x reader #spider-man x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader

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buckyalpine · 11 months

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Peter’s Hamster

Crack fic alert: Imagine Bucky with a pet he never wanted. He’s around the compound more cause he’s taking a break from missions for a while. In the meantime, Peter brought a hamster from the pet store and Tony is not having any of it.

“No”

“C’mon Mr. Stark, you won’t even notice him-

“I can smell him from the lab”

“I’ll invent something to stop the smell”

“Aren’t pets expensive”

“Aren’t you a billionaire?”

“Shut up Romanoff”

“He was like 2 bucks!”

Peter manages to squirrel his way into keeping his newest friend but there’s still the matter of who would care for him when everyone else as away on missions. Anyway, Bucky made it clear he would have no part in hamster sitting. Not one bit. If everyone was away then the hamster would have to fend for himself.

Like today. It had already been a few days since the collective team had left leaving Bucky in perfect solitude with his worn copy of the hobbit and his secret guilty pleasure; peanut butter cups. No one would ever EVER see the former winter soldiers suck off the chocolate left on the wrapper, licking his lips like a cat after every bit between flipping pages.

It was perfect.

Except.

Bucky could hear the sound of the squeaky wheel of the hamster going at full speed, the high pitched squeals piercing through the air.

“For fucks sake, can’t you keep it down” he grumbled before pausing and closing his eyes. “…I’m talking to a hamster”

….

“who can’t hear me”

Eventually the rustling and scurrying gets to him so he reluctantly goes over to Peters room to see what the 3 gram rodent is up to. He notices the pellet bowl is empty and water has almost run dry, though the little fur ball didn’t seem to care just yet, more concerned about cleaning and pawing at his face.

“If you had more than half a brain cell you would’ve escaped and fed yourself” Bucky scoffed, ready to turn on his heel but the tiny beady eyes that look at him make him stop.

“Pathetic” he mumbled before finding the bag of food under a pile of Peter’s clothes “no more wonder he bought a hamster, he lives like one”

The hamster nudges against him when he refills his bowl, using it as an opportunity to escape by climbing up his arm and sitting on his shoulder.

“Seriously”

The small light brown puffball stayed there while Bucky scoffed, plucking him off and plopping him back in, narrowing his eyes at it.

“This was a one time thing. Figure it out”

Is what he said and fully intended on standing by but the squeaky wheels and rustling get to him. At one point, he swears it’s on purpose as the hamsters way of getting his attention for a food refill.

So he takes matters into his own hands

“If you won’t feed yourself, I’ll teach you”

So the late night sessions begin. Rigorous circuits for the thing that was smaller than his palm, learning how to scale the cake, click the lock open and nibble its way into the pellets.

“I’m training a hamster”

Bucky caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, a few stray pieces of woodchips dusting his clothes while the hamster (who he now called PB....based on an interesting choice...) completed another around in less than 0 seconds.

“I’m training a fucking hamster”

“Good Job PB” Bucky petted his head with one finger, stopping when he was about to comment on his ability to climb the cage,

“And still talking to it”

Imagine the absolute confusion the team feels when they get back to find random clear tubes running along the walls, each connecting to a different room, most tubes leading to the snack cupboards and counter tops.

The walk into the living room and no one breathes a word, too entranced by the sight of a very focused Bucky and Peter’s hamster, perched on the super soldier. He sits on Bucky's shoulder, remnants of sunflower seeds left over on the coffee table while Bucky nibbles on a peanut butter cup.

“What the fuck”

Bucky turned around to find everyone staring at him with a variety of expressions from shock to amusement to utter confusion. At this point, Bucky couldn’t not care less, shrugging before holding up a seed to his shoulder so PB could grab it in his tiny hands.

“Which episode now, PB” “Who the fuck is PB”

Bucky pointed to the furball while scrolling through Netflix, avoiding any animal documentaries, not wanting to traumatize his new tiny friend.

“You named him PB?”

“Yup”

“Based off of what” Tony cocked and eyebrow while Bucky snorted, feeding him another sunflower seed.

“We’ll, I originally called him Parker’s balls”

Imagine after this Bucky has PB trained to wreck havoc and steal things he likes from just about anywhere. Peter gets absolute shit from Tony because 1 Bucky was enough chaos and now its Bucky plus this tiny demon.

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beabidobi · 1 month

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𝐓𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐈𝐭

P5 (last) - “i sit and watch you.”

P4 - “but you tolerate it.”

pairing: f!reader x miguel o’hara

content warnings: angst, post breakup, no happy ending, miguel kinda stalking you (but not creepily yk?)

word count: 477

authors note: thank you all so much for the support, I hope you enjoyed this small series <3

It’d been almost seven months since you and Miguel broke up and seven months since you’d been on a date. That’s why you were so jittery on your way to dinner with a colleague who asked you out. After the taxi leaves, you enter the restaurant and spot the familiar face. He waves you over and you sit across from him, smiling and trading greetings before ordering.

The night was going by fairly quickly, you were having fun and it definitely wasn’t going as bad as you thought it would having associated this place with Miguel. After an hour, you’d both eaten and waiting for a dessert menu while talking about your interests. You both enjoyed the same movies, books and music; as if you were a perfect match, laughing and discussing until another hour flew by.

Miguel O’Hara could recognise the back of you from anywhere. So when he’s on his way home from HQ, swinging from building to building and he spots an awfully familiar woman stepping out of a taxi in front of the same restaurant he used to take you, he has to stop in his tracks, almost bashing into a wall.

He perches himself onto a roof across the street and looks down into the large transparent windows and sure enough, there you were sat at a booth across from some guy. A guy Miguel currently wanted to gut like a fish. But the way you were laughing. The way your face lit up as if this guy had told the funniest joke in the world. You used to look at him like that at the good times of your relationship, until those looks turned into sadness and disappointment.

Don’t get me wrong, he still wanted to kill the man across from you in unimaginable ways, but he couldn’t help thinking how much happier you looked. All he wanted was you to be happy, and of course he knew it couldn’t be with him.

He must have been there for almost fifteen minutes, staring at you and your companion, before his watch pings and Lyla pops up at his side reporting a nearby shop robbery. Taking one more look at you, he sighs and retreats from the roof edge.

You weren’t sure if you’d gone insane or your brain was playing some horrible trick on you. Because you could’ve sworn you’d seen the flash of Miguel’s holographic suit from the corner of your eye on a roof nearby. Obviously it was the latter, as your brain loved to mess with you, reminding you of Miguel the minute you were having fun.

“Y/n? You okay?” Your colleague Nate asked when he saw the way your face paled slightly while looking outside. “Are you feeling unwell?”

Snapping out of your delusion, you focus back on him with your best attempt at smile. “I’m good.”

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sleepy-wyvern · 10 months

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His Hummingbird (Miguel O'Hara x female!reader smut)

{Angsty smut oneshot}

Available: here on Tumblr and AO3

WC: ~2.2k [oneshot]

Synopsis: You're a human female who has a boyfriend from another dimension; Spider-Man 2099. Miguel visits your apartment late at night as a surprise after not seeing him for a week.

I HAD TO GET THIS IDEA OUT OF MY HEAD BEFORE I COULD FOCUS ON OTHER FICS IM SORRY ;-;

Inspirations: the song Hummingbird by Metro Bloomin and James Blake and you know the fang scene… man definitely bites 👀

A/N: If y’all want/request more I may write more, otherwise this is a one shot ❤️ leave a comment or reblog if you liked.

Warnings/tags: Angst, Smut (18+ Minors DNI), hickies (lotsa biting), fingering, light begging from reader, p in v (condom), light male whimpering

Disclaimer: I borrowed my spanglish friend for some of the translations here. Feel free to send an ask or comment if something feels off.

Enjoy!

The moon shone bright through the heavy clouds as you wondered where your spider was.

Fighting crime, defeating evil, saving lives, all nothing you could complain about. Another universe, another day, another “business trip.” He used that phrase to try and make you feel better but it couldn’t take away from the fact that one day he may not return. Perhaps if things went bad enough you wouldn’t ever be able to know what happened to him, just spending the rest of your life waiting for someone who would never return. You tried your best to shove the thought away as you fiddled with the window latch.

You pushed open the window widely to get whatever cool night air you could in your little city apartment. As the hot summer days neared closer you took solace in the cold rainy night. The sound of the rain and the city traffic was oddly comforting.

You turned and walked toward the kitchen sink opposite of the room figuring you'd at least try to get some chores done. It was a small-ish apartment the size of a hotel room really. The biggest room was the merged kitchen and living room. Still, it was familiar enough space for you to sense the presence behind you.

The moment you turned your back you heard the window blinds gently tap against the window pane; anyone else would’ve thought that had been the wind. Anyone else without a spider person lover anyways.

“Do spiders ever use the door?” You spoke without turning around, instead you turned the faucet on to do the dishes.

“You should start locking that window at night,” his gruff voice was directly behind you.

“Miguel,” you sighed, twisting the tap off before turning around.

It had been a week since his last visit, the longest ever since you started “seeing” each other. You hadn’t put a label on anything yet, what could you call a lover from another dimension that could never stay with you?

Every time you saw him after a prolonged period you were intimidated by how he stood over you. He hadn’t meant to be intimidating as his mask was already removed, yet it was hard to ignore his height and size of his build especially when he had to look down at you.

“Nobody can enter a 4th story window,” you smiled. “Just you.”

Despite that you were angry he was gone for so long your heart melted at the sight of his brown locks falling gracefully over his forehead. He wore his blue and red spider suit as he always did when traveling.

He wrapped his large arms around your waist, pulling you close into his hot embrace. He planted a kiss on your forehead.

“Te extrañé…” He trailed off as he pulled back to look into your eyes.

He held his hands against your face when you eyed his bracelet; the thing that let him stay here with you without “glitching out.” It was a grim reminder of what could never be. Despite the comfort you got from his rough hands against your soft face, it made you sad.

“I missed you too,” you sighed, overlapping his hand with your smaller one.

The bracelet was cool to the touch as you frowned. “Where have you been?” You scolded, “You told me you’d be back by Monday. It’s Friday!”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed furrowing his brows. “It’s work.”

“It always is,” You turn around putting your hands on the smooth countertop.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he offered, sounding sad and hopeful.

You knew he didn’t mean to make you worry or make you sad. You both wished things were different. It would make it so much easier. You knew though that if he could change things he would and you didn’t want to hold what was out of his control against him. It wasn’t his fault you were born in different worlds, different universes. It didn’t help that you weren’t a spider person either.

You felt his hands gently against your waist as he moved closer to you.

“I'm sorry." He sighed. "Mi pequeña colibrí…” he whispered into your ear. His breath was hot and heavy against your neck sending shivers down your body.

“Oh stop, you can’t use the español to make me feel better! No fair!” You laughed.

He placed a kiss on your ear that tickled before you spun back around, wrapping your arms over his shoulders.

“My spiderman,” You giggled as his look of concern melted into happiness. "I'm not mad at you. Just try to let me know if you'll be late next time."

The corner of his lips turned upward ever so slightly in relief. "I promise."

Another thing that was likely yours only; Miguel’s smile. When Jessica met you she was surprised you were even real. She warned you to not mention much of Miguel’s personal life activities to the other spider people but it was hard to remember. Once you accidentally mentioned the flowers on your table were from Miguel to Gwen she nearly fainted. You adored the way he treated you special even if you weren’t sure why he chose you. You could never be mad at him for something he couldn't control.

He brushed his thumbs in a circular motion against your waist as he held you. His dark eyes were full of love as he looked down at you.

You ran your fingers back through his brown hair. He seemed to sigh beneath your touch, it was thrilling in a way to know he was comfortable enough around you to let his guard down. Nobody else could see Miguel the way you did.

“You need to stop being so stressed. Relax more.” You sighed bringing your fingers to his forehead. “Grumpy wrinkles.”

He chuckled low as he held you tightly. He brought his face down into your neck to inhale the sweet scent of your perfume that he loved so much.

“I know what helps with that,” his voice was deep and silky and fuck it made your body melt.

You giggled as his sweet kisses turned into loving nibbles. He was careful to not hurt you with his fangs but he knew how much you loved his gentle biting. You had a hunch he loved it as much as you did. On top of that it’s been a week without it and damn you missed him.

You let his touch overwhelm you as he held you, softly biting against your delicate skin. His body tensed against you the moment you let out a small pleasurable gasp.

“Hm,” He huffed deeply as he pulled back. “I forgot my strength. I’m sorry, mi colibrí.”

He brought his fingers up to your neck, wiping away the wetness before examining the hickie left behind.

“That’s what makeup is for,” you reassured. “Now, you have a week to make up for…”

“No better time to start than now,” he knocked off the stack of papers that were laying on the countertop.

Before you could react he grabbed your hips, lifting you into the air. You let out a faint gasp as you wrapped your legs around him.

“Miguel!” You scolded as he smirked at you, placing you on the empty countertop space. “Naughty, what has become of you?” You teased him.

“You have become of me,” he pressed his hot lips against yours hungrily.

He brought his hands around to the back of your head holding you close so he could kiss you deeply. It wasn’t long before you could feel his cool tongue against your lips. You opened your mouth letting him in, his cold mouth meeting your warm one.

You brought your hands to his shoulders feeling the fabric of his suit. Eagerly you moved your fingers to his back, grasping for the zipper. You rotated between feeling the muscles of his back and fumbling with the damn zipper making your kisses turn sloppy.

“Eager aren’t we?” He laughed low and deep in his throat, it wasn’t a mocking tone. In fact you knew he loved it.

He shimmied his shoulders out of the suit and it took all of your power not to basically drool over him. You wasted no time bringing your hands to feel his hot skin, tracing your fingers lovingly over the scars on his chest.

You buried your fingers in his hair as your lips met again. The man loves to kiss you, almost as much as he loves to bite you. He took the opportunity to switch to biting your neck whenever you pulled back to breathe.

He slowly brought his fingers underneath the hem of your shirt, running his calloused fingers along your silky smooth torso. You separated from him only long enough to remove the pesky fabric of your top before diving back into him again.

You could feel the bulge in his underwear against your leg as he leaned forward to undo the clasp of your bra. He brought his large hands to your breasts lovingly cupping and massaging them. Goosebumps rose against his skin at the sound of your soft, lustful moans.

“More baby,” you whispered.

He brought his lips to your nipple, his hair tickling your chest. You tilted your head down letting yourself get lost in the scent of his shampoo while he planted wet kisses against your stiff nipple. His grabs on your body slowly turned more rough as you felt his teeth against your skin.

“More,” you demand. It’s been a week and damn you wanted him more than anything.

He hooked his fingers underneath the soft fabric of your leggings and panties as you shimmied to help. Your body shivered as the fabric pooled to the floor. Miguel looked at your body with a mixture of awe and hunger- a deep lust filled hunger.

He brought his index and middle finger to your entrance, smiling when he felt how wet you were.

“You really did miss me huh, mi pequeña colibrí?”

You nodded “mmm’, yes I did. Need you, Miguel.” You whined feeling him circle your entrance.

He wasn’t cruel to make you wait as he plunged his fingers in. Your back arched as you gasped, spreading your legs desperate for him deeper. Feeling his fingers arch against your walls and watching the movements of his wrist as he pleased you was intoxicating.

Still you wanted more.

“Please, baby,” you whimpered.

Your body whined when he stopped and pulled his fingers out.

“What is it, cariño?” His voice purred. He brought his fingers to his lips, rolling his tongue over your sweetness.

“You,” your lip quivered as you shuddered from the cool apartment air. “Please.”

You knew this was a game he could normally play for a long time. Not today though, neither of you could handle it. Instead your heart raced as he nodded to the kitchen drawer where you kept the condoms since counter sex had become a more regular activity.

He brought his large, hard cock out of his boxers, stroking lightly. You swallowed at the sight wondering how you could ever take him.

He smirked at your expression “are you afraid?”

You shook your head, reaching your hands out to his broad shoulders trying to bring him closer. You fumbled with the condom, bringing your hands to his hot cock. He gasped lightly as your hands held him him, rolling the condom down over him.

He lined his tip against your entrance, soaking himself in your juices and teasing you just a little.

“Are you ready?” He whispered and for the first time tonight you heard his voice start to shake.

You bit your lip as you nodded “I am.”

He slowly slid himself in as you let out a moan of tight, firey pressure. The moment he was fully inside you both let out a gasp; you both waited so long for this moment. You wrapped your arms around him as he buried his face in the crook of your neck while you got used to the feeling of all of him inside.

He waited for you to nod and give him the okay to continue. He planted a kiss on your cheek as he pulled out slightly before thrusting in again. You spread your legs further apart, moaning at the next deeper thrust. You grasped at the muscles of his back for an anchor.

“Just like that, cariño,” He whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

He thrusted against, harder and faster as you felt your pleasure start to build. He kept a lovely, steady pace and you knew it wouldn’t be long until you reached your climax.

“Oh Miguel,” you moaned, making him shiver. “Baby, I’m close.”

You grasped at his back desperate to have more of him. His heavy breaths and grunts sent electricity through you while his cock pressed lovingly against that sweet spot.

“Don’t move,” his voice was a quiet whimper while you held him.

Fuck, hearing him whimper always sent you feral but you did your best to keep still while he pounded into your tight cunt. Your back arched as the waves of pleasure crashed down into a lovely orgasm.

“You feel so good,” he whispered in your ear.

You knew he was close and you wrapped your legs around him not letting him go.

“I’m, I’m-“ his voice broke off as you felt his cock twitch inside of you.

His arms held you tightly to him as you were wrapped around him lovingly. The heat of your bodies, the feeling of his heart beating and the rise and fall of his chest as he heavily breathed through the pleasure… Despite that soon he’d have to leave again these moments are what make it worth it.

"Te amo," his voice was a husky whisper as he held you.

For now, you got to enjoy the warm embrace of your spider.

===

💙💙💙💙

Thanks so much for reading, let me know if you enjoyed with any comments/reblogs, I appreciate them all!

-Wyv

#miguel spiderman #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel x female!reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x female!reader smut #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x female!reader #miguel ohara imagine #miguel o'hara imagine #fan fic #fan fics #fan fiction #fan fictions

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cupcakeinat0r · 3 months

Text

Don’t mind me, just thinkin abt self-conscious Dad Bod! Miguel :,,(

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Since y’all been together, he’s gained some weight which he isn’t too happy about. It’s not really him it bothers. He couldn’t care less if his stomach was pudgy or if his love handles were coming in, he was more worried about you losing your physical attraction towards him.

Miguel couldn’t be more wrong though. Especially since his ass got fatter, yum.

You could never stop yourself from smacking it every time you walked past him. He’d get embarrassed, then he’d try to get back you back, which he always did. Then it’d lead to a silly game of tag.

One day though, he was on the couch watching tv, wearing a tank top and some basketball shorts. You had just woken up and went to grab something to eat, but you stopped at the door of your shared bedroom, beholding the sight. He didn’t see you yet, but you quietly took a moment for yourself to just… admire him.

The way his bulging biceps and pecs were just sitting there, resting across the back of the couch. His man spread that gave you the perfect view of his massive thighs and what was in between, the shorts fitting just right, borderline too tight. And then the lack of abs that used to be there… but you weren’t complaining. In fact,

You loved that.

In his peripheral, Miguel notices you at the bedroom door. “Morning, sleeping beauty.”

“Good morning, handsome.” You say, smiling at the love of your life, stuck at the doorway and admiring him.

“Ven aqui conmigo, beba.” He motions for his lap, and naturally, you follow his request.

While the two of you hold a longing gaze, you straddle him, your hands resting on his chest. You share a tender kiss, the smacks of your lips turning the both of you on. Miguel moans into your mouth as he feels your hips lazily grind against him, his manhood twitching at the sensation. Your hands begin to trail down his belly, tugging upward at the hem of his tank top, but then he stops you, “Mmmwait… let’s- let’s keep that on, okay?”

You raise your eyebrow, confused at this. “Why? What’s wrong?” You murmur, genuinely concerned.

“No, I’m fine, it’s just… look, I know I’ve put on some weight, so you don’t have to do this if you don’t feel like it-“

“Miguel O’Hara,” You look at him sternly, “I absolutely do not care if you gain weight. I love you no matter what. Besides,” your face softens into a more seductive expression, “Ever heard of relationship weight? It just means I’m takin’ good care of my mans… aren’t I taking good care of you, baby?” You coo at him, your hands snaking their way to the hem of his top again.

He slowly nods, his self doubt and insecurities melting away at your words. “Now let me take this off, please? I wanna see all of my man.” He lets you pull off the tank top, revealing the mouth- watering dad bod he’s acquired since dating you.

Your eyes drink him up, your hands following pursuit. Miguel’s huge, calloused hands tighten on your hips, squeezing the flesh there, trying to gauge your reaction.

“God, just looking at you does things to me.” You mewl against his ear, peppering kisses along his thick neck. Your hips start again, the bulge just underneath your heat growing larger.

“Mmfuck, you mean it, baby?” he moans, voice strained, his face in complete euphoria.

“Every word.” You mutter, smothering his face in kisses as your hips go deeper and harder against his hardened cock.

“And I don’t wanna hear anymore of this nonsense, you hear me?” You continue speaking in between kisses, showering him with them on his cheeks, forehead, jaw, temple, anywhere, “you’re the most cutest,” smack, “most handsome,” smack, “most sexy,” smack, “most fine lookin’ man I’ve ever laid eyes on.” You finally plant a desperate, much more needy kiss on his lips, your tongues dancing with each other.

“Mmm, yes ma’am.”

Long story short, you get him all riled up enough that he pushes you down into the couch and completely wrecks you while your wear a t shirt of his <3 Isn’t he just so dreamy??? <3333333

Want more DadBod!Miguel ? Here’s my master list, bae!!

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shawnxstyles · 5 months

Text

man-handled

DATE: DECEMBER 4, 2023

summary: you get a little caught up in your boyfriend’s muscly arms and can’t help but imagine what it would be like if he man-handled you.

request: i thought it was but i guess not??

words: 5.1k

warning: SMUT (f- receiving (multiple orgasms, oral, fingering, throat-fucking), m- receiving (oral), slight daddy/sir kink, degrading, name-calling, dirty talk), language, and probably the shittiest ending ever

note: i’m so tired y’all

mafia!tom x reader

–

You weren’t usually like this. You weren’t known for being so horny to the point where you can’t think straight. You were known to be quiet, shy, and even a little innocent. But sometimes Tom brought out the worst in you. But you learned to like that side of you. The secret, dark, and dirty side that only Tom could unveil from you. Watching you unfold and come undone–no pun intended–gave Tom a deep sense of growing pride.

Every day he made it more obvious that he was the only one and that there would never be anyone else for you.

What was causing you to act so strange was a new obsession for you. You had been with Tom intimately numerous times, but he never failed to pleasure you immensely. You two have explored each other’s bodies inside and out, yet your mind still found things to obsess over. Currently, it was his arms.

His arms.

They were usually covered with different brand-name suits, all varying from gray to black. The sleeves always wrapped around his biceps snuggly, hinting at only some of his bulkiness. Usually, the sight of him in his suits when he left for work had you thinking about how hot he looked overall. But as you watched him leave this morning, your eyes couldn’t stop fixating on the packed muscle you knew was hiding under the black suit’s sleeves.

You’re not sure, but you think this newest obsession started last night by complete accident. That accident being Tom’s overwhelming dominance and control when he was fucking you.

Although you were on the quieter and more innocent side, it amazed both Tom and you that you were secretly fucked in the head just like him. You hadn’t even known it until you stumbled upon Tom. Sometimes, you think that he molded you to indulge in his kinks and fantasies, but he’s never forced you to do anything. If anything, it’s always you shyly asking him to do something more when a dirty thought pops into your head. He always makes sure to degrade yet praise you in the most addicting and twisted way.

Last night, while you and Tom were simply watching a movie, things got heated (it was never just going to be a movie). Tom had gotten home early and just wanted to relax. But the makeout between you two got hotter and you both got needier. When you moved yourself to his lap, gently rocking into him, his strong hands forced you to stay still. You remembered the bruises present on his knuckles and wondered if they still hurt when he squeezed your hips. You whined into his mouth before he picked you up easily, throwing you over his shoulder as you squealed.

“Always so greedy.”

Tom has picked you up and threw you over his shoulder before. Maybe the other times he was gentler about it, afraid to hurt his little princess even if you were completely okay with it. But that night, he didn’t seem to give a fuck. He had a difficult day at work, the evidence clear on his wounded hands, so maybe he took some of that aggressive out on you. After he had brought you upstairs, you were extremely drenched as his bulky arms tossed you on the bed.

But after that, he apologized for being so rough. He explained how he had a tough day and he was sorry for taking it out on you. It resulted in long, sweet, loving sex that you adored all the time because you got to see the part of him that no one sees. Just like that secret part in you that only he sees. Except, you weren’t yearning for his softness after being man-handled. No, you were looking to be fucked. Hard. You wanted it rough, messy, degrading, and straight sinful. The nastiest scenes flooded your mind through the night, hoping that you could relive one of them with Tom. As he fucked slow into you last night, your eyes couldn’t remove themselves from his bulging arms holding himself over his head. You watched as the muscles would work and his veins would pop out when he did a push-up, and it had you clenching around him pathetically.

What were you going to tell him when he came home?

For the rest of the day, you wandered around the house needily. You cleaned, you read, you reorganized, but nothing distracted you enough from your fucked-up thoughts and the pulse between your legs. One part of you felt ashamed for hiding it from Tom, but the other half of you didn’t care. It felt like you had your own little secret that no one knew. But then again, you really wanted to tell him because you wanted to see the results. And feel them…

When it was late into the evening, seemingly later than when Tom usually returns, you sighed to yourself. You brought yourself to bed, too worn out from your own desires nagging you down all day. If only Tom didn’t have a rule about touching yourself while he was gone, you would have been able to handle your dirty situation all by yourself. But no, Tom had to be insanely controlling and sexy about everything, just making your situation even harder to deal with. Just as your bare feet slip into the comforter, you hear the hefty front door open. Your head shoots up, instantly on high alert of Tom’s arrival. Just when you thought your body was relaxing, the sound of his approaching footsteps seem to heighten your hormone levels, veering away from homeostasis once again.

Tom peeks his head through the ajar bedroom door, body hunching over the door handle. He doesn’t say a word until he realizes that you are in fact awake, opening the door wider. He skulks closer to you, his body bulky and stoic just how you remembered it being this morning when he left. His hands at his sides had those infamous cuts and bruises that you always wrapped with bandages. He never wanted you to, you demanded that you do. Your heart pounds as your tummy tickles, wishing he could read your mind and just handle you the way you want him to with those bruised knuckles.

“Missed you today, Princess,” his thick hand rose to caress the hair on your head. You feel yourself lean into his touch, yearning it always no matter how intense or soft. You always craved to just feel him.

“Missed you too, Daddy. So much,” your hand reaches up and encloses around his wrist, squeezing softly. His hand gently pulls away as he sits beside you on the bed, and you nearly whimper at the loss of contact.

“What d’you do today?” Tom asked simply and softly, genuinely curious about your day. But finally with him next to you, your mind has gotten all fuzzy, and you feel like you’ve forgotten every word you’ve known. Your eyes haven’t drifted away from his arm since he pulled away from you, mind encompasses in the way he moves.

“I cleaned. I reorganized the shelves in your office. Oh, and I read too…”

Tom tried to listen to your dull list of activities, but he couldn’t help but notice how distracted you seemed. Maybe you were tired from all the chore-like things you did. But your eyes weren’t blinking as they started at his chest, clearly hazy with something. Something familiar.

“Yeah? And what did you read?”

“Um… I don’t remember,” your head started to tilt to the side as you licked your lips, lost in whatever thought was clouding your mind currently. Tom’s mouth curved just the slightest bit up at the airheaded state of you, wondering if you could be anymore adorable. The fact that you didn’t remember what you read, knowing you love reading, is what stood out to Tom the most. Something was obviously off, Tom just couldn’t figure it out yet.

“How was work? Do you need me to patch you up?”

“Work was stressful. People don’t listen and then ask why m’so harsh. And idiots like to go behind m’back and take stuff from me,” Your eyes fall onto his wounded hands.

“S’not nice…”

“Not nice at all, huh?” Tom reaches up to caress your face ever-so gently, not wanting to touch you too much with his open cuts.

“Come on. Let me fix you up. Please?”

Now, how could Tom ever say no to you?

–

Sometimes, Tom could be stubborn. Like right now, where he refused to sit down while you tended to his wounds because he’s saying that it won’t take long enough to sit. You want to roll your eyes in annoyance, but you don’t want him to see your attitude and punish you later. Or maybe you do…

He had his suit jacket off now and just his crisp, white buttoned shirt rolled up to the elbows. The skin that was untouched was smooth under your delicate touch, but his scars and fresh cuts, which were most likely old ones reopened, were rugged. You dabbled light pressure as you wiped away dry blood with the wet cloth, not afraid of hurting him because he barely blinks when he punches someone. He surely wasn’t phased by his girl cleaning up his damages like a little puppy trying to lick themselves better. That’s exactly what your touch felt like—little puppy licks and gentle pawing.

And when you applied the cooling ointment, his pain was eased, but he doesn’t think it was from the cream. No, he is a firm believer that you are his medicine. Your words, your touch, your soul was healing. Although he was your opposite in every way and he hurt people for a living while you mended people’s aches with your mere presence, he could never hurt you. Never.

So, when you’re all finished wrapping his hands with that rough cloth that’s an excuse for a bandage (it was all he had stored), he’s shocked by your blunt statement. You were rarely blatant about anything, especially when it had to do with sexual situations.

“Why did you apologize to me last night?” You just threw your words at him, hoping he caught them. He didn’t know that when you were fixing him up you were ogling his arms like a child in a toy store during the Christmas season. His veins were green, constant exploitation of work causing them to pop out more. He looked delicious and it made you crave him more than ever. Even more with his ripped up hands. You wanted the roughness and pain and the power to be instilled on you. You wanted him to take his particularly hard day out on you. Tom blinked, silently leading you out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom. He tried to recall exactly when he apologized to you, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Clearly, work had gotten to his head too much.

“I don’t remember what you’re talkin’ ‘bout, darling,” Without a thought, he begins unbuttoning his shirt with his bandaged hands. He looked like something of a fancy man mixed with an underground boxer. Not the type of fancy that shows off his money, but the type that’s humble and real and works hard for what he wants. A man who made himself. And that’s exactly who Tom is; someone who built himself.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling like you’re under the spotlight. But you took a breath. “Last night, when we were having… sex… you apologized for being really rough.”

He flatly hums, indicating that you need to continue while he buttons his shirt. You could just faint from his sculpted, stony beauty that was hidden behind a few buttons and fabric. Unlike his knuckles, his skin was smooth and untouched besides his scattered tattoos. He had faint scars that you could barely see unless you were looking really hard (which in your case maybe you were). His build and figure used to intimidate you, but now, you’re just awed.

“Well… I kind of liked when you were rough…” Your words dragged out, especially as your head tilted down to face your lap in embarrassment. “You’ve never really been like that before and it caught me off guard, but in a really good way! I didn’t realize I wanted something like that until… yeah.” You weren’t embarrassed that you were attracted to your own boyfriend’s man-handling, but by the fact that you had to admit that to get what you wanted. Sometimes, you wish he could just read your mind, but life wasn’t a movie or a book, even if it felt like that from time to time with the life you live. Dating a mafia man was insane to visualize–those things only really happened in books. Or so you thought.

“You did?” You softly hummed, nodding your head. You could feel the heat radiating off of your cheeks, your heart thumping in your chest. You didn’t think Tom would reject you. That’s not why your heart was beating faster than its usual tempo. You were anticipated and your organ couldn’t help but be thrilled at what was to come. “You liked when I took my day out on you? Liked when I was a little mean?”

You crossed your ankles that had been hanging off the bed, biting your lip. You nodded, maybe a little too quickly, because you got slightly dizzy from the movement along with your amped hormones. You had that beat in your chest, but you also had that throbbing pulse in your lower body that has been aching since you watched him leave earlier that day. In the most Tom-way possible, he stalks over to you, torso bare while his trousers remain on. He’s slow and calculated, and it makes you even more anxious. When your eyes finally look up at him, he’s glaring down at you with blown-out pupils, a darkness swirling with the brown color of his irises.

He’s close to you now, inches away from touching you. But he doesn’t. You hear the clink of his belt loosening around his waist before it’s adoring his hand. His quick movements cause the leather to slap your bicep, making you gasp, but what he doesn’t do is apologize. You’re not sure if what he did was purposeful. Did he want to startle you and show you how rough he really could be? You never lingered too long on the idea of him using a belt on you, but if Tom was going to be man-handling you more often, then the thought would probably be more recurring. Tom shrugs off his pants as if they’re a bother, and by the large bulge outlined in his briefs, it seems as if they really are.

You hadn’t even realized you were licking your lips until Tom’s hand came up around your throat, thumb pulling it out. He tucks his thumb into your mouth, gripping it tightly.

“Drooling over m’cock and I’m not even fully undressed yet,” he removes his thumb before lightly tapping your cheek. “On your knees. Need to fill that filthy mouth.”

The devil on your shoulder wants to be a brat and not listen to him, but you’ve been craving this all day. If Tom knew what you wanted–which he did–his punishment to you would just be not giving it to you. And that’s not your ideal plan at the moment. So, you slide off the edge of the bed and onto the floor at his feet. The first thing he does is spread your thighs open with his ankle.

“You don’t get to squeeze y’pretty little thighs together while sucking me off. That’s rude, pet. Get as wet as you want, but if you close y’legs, you’re not comin’ tonight. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Your hands were waiting anxiously by your sides, clawing at the skin on your thighs. Your pussy was already clenching around its own wetness, unable to close due to his new limit.

“It talks,” his tone was sinister and demeaning. The kind that would make someone’s eyes twitch and hands fist in an argument out of irritation. But his works were fueling some type of sick need inside of you that needed to be sedated, and this seemed to be the only way to do it. And you didn’t mind it one bit. You fucking loved it. “Who knew such a slut would be so obedient?”

You knew better than to respond to that rhetorical question. Instead, you patiently wait for his smirk to rise in cocky pride before he finally slips off his briefs. Like every time you’ve seen his cock, it’s pretty. You didn’t know they were supposed to look so yummy and dream-like. He was smooth with inklings of hair scattered down at the base and his tip was a cute coral color that grew an angry red when he was hard. From the looks of it, he was pretty hard. His tip was leaking that delicious pre-cum you were dying to taste, even if you’ve had it thousands of times before. Having to sit and stare at his glory without touching was some type of punishment, you think.

His hand latches onto the base and the other grips the back of your head. He pushes you closer, tapping your cheek with his tip. You suck in a breath, readying to take him.

“You know what to do if it’s too much. And it will be.”

Tom shoves his cock into mouth once you’re open wide enough. He doesn’t wait for you to adjust to his size or explore his prick like he usually does. This time he’s quick and harsh like he’s trying to beat some type of record. But he’s still just as calculated as he always is, and you know he’s not just going to come fast because he can. Most men do that all the time when they want to get off briskly, but Tom wasn’t like that. He liked to take his time and appreciate the moment, edging you both just a little to make it a little fun. He always edged himself more though, forcing orgasms out of you before you would even touch him.

Your cunt pulsates around nothing, trying to grasp the pleasure he is holding from you. Hands clawing at his meaty thighs until your nails break the skin barrier. Moans attempt to escape your mouth, but are instantly shoved right back down your throat from his thick cock. Tom drills into you with no mercy, causing saliva to cascade down your chin in long strings. The muscles in your jaw ache from their open stance, begging for a break that you would never get. If it was too much you could easily tap his thigh a few times and it would all be over, but that’s exactly what you don’t want. You love that he came home after a stressful day and you could make him feel better. You didn’t want your limitations to restrict his maximum abilities when you secretly wanted more to begin with.

“Look at you letting me fuck this throat. This whiny, little throat and your filthy mouth. Always so fuckin’ needy for it,” his grip on your hair intensified, stilling your head from any movements you might subconsciously make. You’re not surprised when the tears finally start to leak from your eyes, rolling down your face in wavering streams rather than small rivulets. “I’m so big I made you a crybaby. That good, sweetheart?”

There were no words that were able to leave your stuffed mouth, only rumbles of moans that vibrated around his cock so dirtily that his head was falling back. Deep, guttural groans emitted from his rough throat, his movements never faulting. Even when you feel the tip of him twitching in the back of your mouth, he doesn't stop.

“Take it. I’m going to come and you’re going to take it. All you wanted was to be a storage for my cum, right?” Tom’s words were cruel and degrading, but they were the exact thing that got you off. Your stomach churned in lust, feeling a bit neglected, yet pleasured by him fucking your mouth.

He was going all out tonight and you didn’t want anything less. Tom didn’t even give you a warning about when he was coming, he just wanted you to take it. And who were you to defy him? When ropes of his much-needed release fired from his prick, you made sure to swallow every drop. He slowly removes himself from your mouth as your jaw aches immensely. Saliva and cum were lathered around your chin, coating your lips with the taste of him. Your hand lifts up to massage your jaw as you look up at the flames of lust in Tom’s eyes. You notice that there’s slight hesitation; he wants to default back into a caring lover rather than a dominant one. But even with the soreness in your jaw, you manage a smirk to let him know that you’re fine. You’re more than fine, and you’re more than ready to continue the rest of the night. You know that it will be your turn soon too at some point, right? That throat-fuck was torture for your sopping cunt. You’re mind-dizzyingly horny.

“What’s the matter? Your lip is all trembling and wet,” You didn’t even notice him stuff his prick back into his pants because you were so mesmerized by the taste left on your tongue and the ache in your jaw. He leans down, nearly level with you on the floor, but still hovering over your head. “Just like your pussy I bet, hm?”

Your entire body shivered from his words as if a frozen wind cascaded through the bedroom, but at the same time, your skin has never burned so fiery. His hands were quick to fit under your arms, lifting you up to your feet. When your thighs met again, they squeezed tightly to rid the incessant throbbing between them. You knew you were just soaking wet too–the kind that reached all the way to your bum once Tom laid you flat on your back. The kind that would drip onto the bed sheets if you were positioned on all fours with your rear up in the air. Tom loved to do every which way with you, but he was keen on watching your scrunched-up face relax once you came. The way your nose would wrinkle and eyebrows furrow, mouth just wide enough to slip a finger or two through. Which, of course, Tom would take advantage of. But right now, he wanted to taste you.

It had been such a long day, full of busyness and rage-work. He didn’t mind having to punch a face or two daily, especially when they wronged him significantly because then he got to do more than just a punch. The only part he hated was seeing your face in the aftermath. When he’d come home, he would see you all delighted to see him back and well, just for your expression to drop in concern at his wounds. Whether it was his hands (it was usually his hands), arms, chest, or even his face, you were relentless about fixing him up. Tom’s resistance was nothing to you, so eventually, he would just sigh and let you aid him. You had something of a magic touch because only you could make Tom feel better. Nothing like the doctors he had occasionally visited as a child or even his mother’s kisses. And now, his knuckles may be bruised and may be bandaged, but that would never stop him from taking care of his girl. Especially when his girl got all shy about wanting to be man-handled. He thought you were the most adorable thing really.

Usually, Tom would gently lay you back on the comforter and make sure you had a pillow underneath your head. This time, he didn’t even hesitate to throw your willing body like a ragdoll on the bed. The gasp you let out was practically a moan. His invasive, manly hands shredded your bottoms down your legs without a care in the world. You’ve never seen him so aggressive with you, but God, if it wasn’t exactly what you wanted. You had been craving this type of fucking, and now that you have it, well, you might just pass out from how good it’s all going to feel.

“This slutty little pussy,” he growls, thumb circling your throbbing clit. He can feel the way it swells underneath his rough touches, and he can hear the way your breath gets caught in your throat. You were always so delicate to him, like you would break if he held you too hard. But while you were soft, you were also strong, which is why Tom was able to treat you like this and you wouldn’t shatter like thin glass. “So weepy and wet. Who knew you were such a cock whore, hm? Or is it just for me?”

“You. Only you.”

Tom knew it was only for him. And of course, you knew it was only for him. No one has ever gotten you as wet as Tom has, and no one has pleasured you nearly as much. He strived to satisfy you until you begged him to stop, which no one had ever come close to doing. Every past partner you’ve been with always had to use lubricants because they couldn’t make you wet enough. You were always ashamed and embarrassed, but then you realized that’s how they should feel. Their performances are minuscule and rubbish; compared to Tom’s, they don’t stand a chance. But you didn’t bother with those past “lovers” anymore, because you had your one and only right in front of you. Or more like right in between your legs with his head on your thigh.

“Right. I’m feeling a bit hungry. You’ll let me eat, won’t you?” He widens your legs, forcing them to spread so you can’t suffocate him with your thighs. Lewd whines spill from your mouth as his breath hits your pussy, warm and close. “Oh, wait, I’m making the decisions.”

His lips lock onto your clit, sucking on the nub. You don’t conceal the moans that instantaneously begin to slip out of you like a mantra. He changes his rhythm, going firm and fast, and then slow and calculated. It was addicting, and it left you clawing at the bed sheets and curling your toes. His tongue swirls through your folds, collecting your juices and prodding inside of you.

No man has eaten you like Tom has. When they did it, they did it as if it was a chore. Tom does it as if it’s a reward.

He cherishes you, honors your body with his hands and mouth while also showing you who’s in control. It’s these things that make you utterly obsessed with him, thinking about him for twenty-four hours even when you see him at the start and end of every day. You were obsessed with the way his tongue was licking into you, desperate to consume every drop of your wetness until you were drained. His thumb returned to its home on your clit, pressing and holding as it throbbed beneath his finger. Your head spun as if you were drunk on a carousel, but it wasn’t nausea you were feeling. No, it was the ecstasy of pleasure building up inside of you as you approached your high.

“S-so close. Fuck—”

A slap to your inner thigh caused you to squeak into the heated air. Tom never cared when you cussed before, but the fact that he did now was another little turn-on that just got added to the list. Seriously, what was wrong with you?

His mouth popped off of you, thumb never letting up on your clit. He cleanly slides his middle finger through your slick folds, easily curling it inside of you. Even with his wounded and wrapped hands, his thrusts are flawless and perfectly paced. The sandy texture of the bandage occasionally itches your inner thigh, adding a delicious stimulation to your skin. As he pumps his digits inside of you, you are aware of the muscles in his arms flexing, which makes you clutch tightly around him.

“Oh, what’s got you so tight?” You groan at his words, not responding clearly. “Don’t be a brat.

“Your a-arms,” You can’t help but moan as he curls his fingers inside of you again.

“Yeah?” he hovers his body over you now, one arm supporting his bulky weight right beside your head. It was exactly like how you had remembered it and you didn’t even have to tell him. His bicep was next to your head, pulsing and working to keep him up right. You could feel and hear him grin and grunt every time you squeeze tightly around his fingers. “You’re the filthiest fuckin’ girl I’ve ever seen. The way you’re taking my fingers I just know you’re wishing it’s m’cock.”

Your skin was on fire. Your hair was a mess. Your head was going to evaporate into a cloud of lust. And your body was an oozing waterfall. That’s the only way to describe how you felt.

His transitions are natural and effortless as if he could do it with his eyes closed because he’s mapped your body out so well. But no matter how many times you’re with him, you’re still withering beneath him, shaking until your orgasm washes over you like a tsunami. He tilts his head, licking his lips before whispering in your ear deeply.

“Since you’ve been crying for it all day, come. Go ahead. Soak my fingers. Soak the fuckin’ sheets.”

You topple over your orgasm into a pool of pleasure, indeed soaking his hand and the sheets beneath you. As your body becomes hypersensitive, you wiggle away from his touch, only for him to hold you in place. He snatches your hips, stills them roughly with a press of his bandaged hands.

“I’m not done here, sweetheart. For this one, I want you to be as quiet as possible. Can you do that? Or are you inclined to let the neighborhood know who is making y’come this many times?”

Tom was incessant about making you come a magnitude of ways that night, all with specific rules. One with no touching, one with no moving, one with no moaning. It was a rollercoaster of crying and orgasms. To say you were exhausted was an understatement, but you’ve never felt more refreshed and satisfied.

You were so tired that when Tom left to begin your aftercare, you had passed out on the messy bed sheets.

—

i rushed the ending so much, but i felt bad that i’ve posted in so long and i’m just so busy that i never have time to write anymore

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