after a stressful long day at work, your roommate bucky knows just what you need to ease the tension.
the morning after*
a long night between the sheets requires an even longer shower.
crush*
home for the summer, you plan on spending your days bathing in solitude and sweet sunshine. but bucky barnes has other plans. how does a goodie-two shoes and the lead of a biker gang end up hand in hand?
—————————————————————————————————-
one shots
thunder
after months of drawing and writing your feelings away, they become exposed to the man you’ve been desperate to keep them from…bucky.
relaxation
you notice bucky has been feeling a little stressed lately, so why not treat him to a spa night?
bbm baby *
its the rockin 70s and you and the gang have a night out, feelings may or may not get exposed…
mine *
bucky owns the north end of brooklyn, new york. you’re his dolly, and someone tries to take you from him. no one touches his dolly. he shows you exactly just who you belong to.
desperado *
you and bucky have hated each other since the beginning, and push each others every button. after months of disobeying buckys rules regarding missions, he decides to finally teach you a well deserved lesson.
i knew you were trouble (buckys version)
the second you met bucky, you knew he was trouble. falling for the bad boy was never your style… but who are you deny a man as charming as him? maybe you wanted to be trouble too…
don’t make me ask twice *
you’ve been teasing bucky all day and he’s had enough. meet him in his office at 11pm sharp… and don’t make him ask twice.
knee socks *
you’re buckys favourite thing to come home to after a long day at work.
i drink wine *
long day of meetings + bottle of merlot= stress reliever. but bucky adds one more variable to that equation, and you discover the missing component when you find him masturbating in YOUR bed.
you wanna be good for me? *
the crush you have on your fathers best friend increases at an alarming rate when you come back home for the holidays. you show bucky just how good you can be for him.
the meeting *
your boss mr. rogers is a mean mean man, but you find he has a sweet spot- just for you. perks of the job? he’s hot. and his best friend is too
teachers pet *
professor barnes wants to reward you for being such a good girl and for being such a good, hardworking student. you meet him after class for some much needed release.
lovers rock*
after sharing a joint with the famous ladies man- bucky barnes, the two of you get into a little…trouble involving a bed, and your legs spread wide open.
i know places *
you hate barnes, and barnes hates you. yet when you get injured on a mission, the lines of love and loathing are crossed… and the single bed tony has at the safe house ends up being a benefit after all.
burning desire *
after being sprayed with sex pollen on a mission gone wrong, bucky is the only man who can help you. the issue? you hate his guts.
playing dangerous *
after finding out your husband has been cheating on you with dozens, you do the only logical thing. burn the house down with him trapped in it. when telling the police about your little fake sob story, one officer sees right through you- and needs payment to keep his mouth shut.
—————————————————————————————————
blurbs
brooklyn baby *
the tough and brooding bucky barnes having a mommy kink? something you weren’t expecting, but god were you pleased about it.
freak like me *
bucky wants to try something new in the bedroom, wanting to film you so he can watch it during his long missions away from you. lights camera, action…
you can run, but you can’t hide ( the winter solider)
as HYDRA attacks new york, you attempt to flee your horrible past, desperate not to be captured by them once again. but theres a slight problem… the winter soldier wants to play a little game first.
back off
when someone gets a little too close and comfortable with you, bucky decides enough is enough.
bloody mary *
bucky reminds you who you belong to.
a sweet treat *
while eating the best ice cream you’ve ever tasted, you teasingly confess to your roomates you’d let ben and jerry do anything they wanted to you. the next time you open the freezer, their names have been crossed out, and replaced with bucky and steves. be prepared for a treat much sweeter than ice cream…
matilda
bucky and steve take care of you when you’re struggling.
beach bum *
a beach day with your boyfriend is quite peaceful, until he finds out about a new kink of yours…
sleepwalking *
when your boyfriend bucky wakes up with the winter soldier mindest, you do the only thing you know how to do- comfort him. he does the only thing he knows how to thank you- possessive sex.
headaches
bucky helps you take care of your headache, with the only real cure… cuddles and kisses.
can i kiss you?
you have a crush on bucky, and he has one on you. who cares if youre best friends. best friends kiss ALL the time.. right?
robbers *
bucky and you were your own little version of bonnie and clyde, getting the most excited out of the most violent things. the two of you ruled the world- who cared about anyone else?
the mask
you convince bucky that every few months, your skin starts to peel off during your period.
pairing: dilf! cowboy! peter parker x innocent! fem! reader
word count: 1.2k
summary: a relaxing day with peter around the farm- inspired by tomorrow never came by lana del rey:)
warnings: dry humping, mentions/indications of smut, praise kink, size kink, manhandling, pet names, daddy kink, light spanking, swearing, age gap ofc (reader is of course, of age) mainly just fluff:)
authors note: a cowboy peter fic in 2025? hell yeah! this can be read as a standalone, its not persay a "part three" but its just a drabble of a typical summers day between the two of em<3 mood board below but it is simply vibes- not what reader looks like!
"roses are in your country house/ we played guitar in your barn/ and everyday felt like sunday, and i-/ i wish we had stayed home/ and i could put on the radio/ to our favourite song"- tomorrow never came, lana del rey
It had been cloudy the last few days, and you had been cooped up, letting the rain pass over the crops, letting Mother Nature cry her tears to heal the cracked earth. Peter had been good to you, though.
He had insisted he needed you to help around the farm, despite the rain- simply to get you out of your fathers house.
He had listened to you, late at night when the sun slithered down to hide behind the trees about your issues with him. Peter could never look at him the same, the way he treated you- the way he made you feel.
Couldn't stand to let you go back there most nights.
So when you got the courage to open up to him, he’d sit you in his lap, letting you curl up as he rocked in the rocking chair on the porchfront. Stroking your hair, holding you just a little tighter when there was a chill in the air.
He made you feel so validated, so safe and cared for in his loving arms. Like the things you were talking about were in a different lifetime- or a fairytale.
You were just with him, his glass of scotch, and faint coo of the owls in the trees.
The two of you made the most out of the rainy days you had been having for the past few days- when you were able to convince your father that yes, Peter actually did help around the farm- despite the downpour.
The help was all to a minimum, as the second he picked you up and you were out of the driveway, his truck was pulled to the side of the dirt road and his lips were on yours.
You’re givinn’ me all the help I need sweetheart. Jus’ like that, atta girl. Let daddy make you feel good- yeah? You just help and show me that pretty pussy. He’d coo from where he kneeled between your spread legs on the couch- a low fire crackling in the room adding onto the heat that pooled between your thighs.
But today, you were as free as a bird, as you snuck out of Peters bed before he even rose, leaving a little note with a jam tart you had baked when he had fallen asleep in the armchair last night- cowboy hat slumped over his eyes.
The birds chirped as you rode one of his horses- Dallia out in rolling the meadows, the sunshine bathing you by the time you got back to the stables. Peter was out- probably off with the cattle, but you knew he’d be back soon.
You wasted no time popping a tart in your mouth for yourself as you skipped through the kitchen- letting the sweet sugary taste melt on your tongue as you hummed a little song.
It was a lazy day- you knew Peter didn't need any actual “help” (by help he meant you handing him one or two things, keeping him company, tending the garden and the animals) today, so an afternoon shower was in order.
You were never not amazed how pretty his house was- considering he was always busy with the farm and was an older man who lived alone. The antique picture frames that lead up the stairs were never dusty, the flowers always fresh in their vases (thanks to you) and there were always fresh towels by the opened bathroom window.
It looked over the horses grazing field, surrounded by thick trees, their leaves rustling in the warm summer breeze. One of the things that you loved about country life was the privacy. The windows were always open, the lace curtains ticking your legs as they fluttered.
You smiled, stepping into the shower while you hummed a little tune. It was so beautiful today. It was beautiful everyday when you were here- with Peter, even in the rain.
So you had found yourself outside, yet again- in a little gingam dress that was your favourite to wear in July. It matched the colour of the apples in the orchard, and the picnic blanket that was laid out under you.
You ran your fingers though Peter's salt and peppering hair, as he lay his head on your warm thighs, sprawled out on the blanket. It was tiring, working with his aching bones and sore back- but it made moments like this even more special and important to him.
He loved to take care of you more than anything- but it was nice when you could baby him- just a little.
You bit into a fresh apple you picked from the surrounding trees, letting the juice trickle down your chin. You bent down, planting a gentle kiss to the top of Peter's head, letting your fingers slide down from his hair to his shoulders, massaging the tense, hard working muscles.
He groaned in appreciation at the sensation.
“That feel good, old man?” you teased and he nodded. “S’good. You have magic hands sweet girl.”
“So I’ve heard.” you smiled, the sexual innuendo slipping off your tongue as sweet as honey. He had told you so many times when your smaller hands were wrapped around his thick cock that they were “magic”.
You made him feel like a teenage boy again, trying to not bust in his jeans at simple touches.
“You’re so strong, and you work so hard Peter. You’re so good to me.” you praised, making him smile, his dark eyes fluttering open to stare into yours with a look of such admiration it made your heart skip a beat.
“You always take care of me.” you went on, making him blush. “And you always make me feel so good. All warm and fuzzy.” you giggled, watching as he slid his head from your lap so he could reach over, swinging you like you weighed nothing, so you straddled his lap.
“Hey that tickles!” you shrieked as he tickled your sides, making you giggle and scrunch up your nose- something he found so adorable and sexy he could hardly stand it.
“You’re such a sweet girl. Always such sweet words drippin outta that mouth, you know that?” he murmured, hands sliding under the skirt of your dress to grip your ass, giving it a good smack.
You squeaked out at the sensation, butterflies pooling down to your core as he grabbed the flesh, giving it a few more quick smacks.
“Pete-r” you felt your body heat, unconsciously grinding on the roughness of the fly of his jeans, and the bulge that was underneath them.
“Yea atta girl, wet my jeans baby. Make a little mess- fuck. Such a pretty lil thing, makin daddy feel so loved and cared for.” he hummed, his words cut off as you leaned down to kiss him, tasting of sweet Gala and lipgloss.
You moaned, his hands guiding your hips as you grinded on him, leaving little stains from your soaked through cotton panties.
“You feel- s-so good-” you whimpered out, making him smirk cockily. You always found a way to boost his ego- whether you meant to do so or not. Reminded him nothing changed with his age.
“Yea? You like that?”
And all you could do was nod as he made you feel like you were basking in heaven on earth as you tangled in the grass, shielded from the rest of the world- with the slivers of sunlight making you glow.
This felt like the true meaning of love.
This was your little place of heaven, and it was all because of the man who was under you that made it possible.
Pairing- Dilf! Cowboy! Peter Parker x Innocent! Fem! Reader
Word Count: 6.5k
Summary: Your school girl crush on your employer, Mr. Parker grows as you spend more time with him helping out around his farm, and soon he wants you to meet his friends for a night out at the local dive bar (to simply show you off :) )
Warnings: SMUT, consentual bondage, daddy kink, mentions of sexual activities, sexual implications, flirting, use of drugs, drinks and guns, slight dumbification kink, praise kink, breeding kink, peter just grabbing ur body/ feeling you up, teasing, swearing, age gap ofc (reader mid 20s, peter 40s) peter really just takes pride and care of his girl, making sure she is safe and satsified :)
" life's gonna do what it does, sure as the good lord's up above, i'm cut like a diamond shinin' in the rough.. tough"- tough, lana del rey & quavo
part two to save a horse, ride a cowboy - but no need to read to understand this fic <3
It wasn't the caw of the rooster that woke you this morning.
It was the feeling of a large, solid bicep that curled, caging your body in against another. His skin was warm to the touch, faint red farmers tan poking out at you as you snuggled deeper into the crisp,cool white linen sheets.
You felt Peters bare chest against your backside, the steady rise and fall of his chest soothing as you fought back sleep. The hands on his beside clock ticked, the minutes seeming to spin by faster then your eyes could follow as they fluttered open and shut.
Mornings like these were the best mornings you could've asked for.
They were rare, but they were precious.
The odd night you had managed to sneak out to visit Peter, which ended up with him taking care of you, from the beginning of the night to the ends of the morning.
It wasn't the cool morning breeze that slithered through the opened window that made you shiver, but the thought of Peter.
He had been teaching you how to ride, not horses- but him.
“Fuck darlin’ youre taking me so good. I know, I know-” he would coo as you whimpered, his cock stretching you out as he guided your hips to sink down onto him- to take him all.
“You’re doing such a good job honey, such a good job. You’re daddy's lil cowgirl aren't you? Learning how to ride me like a good girl.”
It made you squirm. Especially when after a while, he’d grow tired of your slower, gentler movements, gripping your hips and pounding up into you so hard you nearly fell off the couch if he hadn't been holding you.
You felt something poking out at your ass between the sheets, and you wiggled your body slightly, getting a low murmur from the sleepy older man beside you.
It was still early, and you knew your father wouldn't be awake any time soon, especially if he had been drinking. But you had cattle to tend to, and pigs to feed.
“Mr Parker…” you whispered, his arm still caging you in tightly.
“Mmm” he mumbled, eyes opening lazily, blinking slowly against the rising sun. “You’re not trying to escape from me, are ya?” he teased, pulling you in even closer, his morning wood flush against your ass, prodding at your lower back.
“I really don't want to leave sir I swear-”
“I’m joking sweet girl, I know. You have some calving happening don't you?”
You nodded.
I’ve been staying by them for most of the time when I’m not here. I like to think sometimes they like the company.” you smiled softly as he planted a kiss on the top of your head, then another.
“They most definitely enjoy it sweetheart. Especially yours. You're just such a sweet girl.” he hummed, large, calloused hands sliding under the sheets, down, down past your arms, slipping to give your ass a little squeeze before slipping up your little tank top to cup your breasts.
“Am I?” you asked, squirming in his grasp as his fingers toyed with you- a cat with its dinner, circling your hardened nipples.
“The sweetest. I just wanna keep you here baby, all the time, in this little bed so I can fill you up.”
You giggled, mind slipping from your duties for the day. His presence alone had your brain turning foggy, it was a miracle you could even think for yourself before he woke up.
But now? You were a goner.
“And why can’t you?”
He sighed, pinching the hardened bud between a thumb and finger. “Responsibilities honey. We both got them, and you're an independent girl.”
“I want you to take care of me though.” you pouted, giving him puppy dog eyes that drove him wild.
His tousled hair was soft between your fingers, his stubble harsher across his cheekbones. “Soon I will be sweetheart. I’ll make you my sweet lil cowgirl.”
You laughed as he kissed you all over, smothering you deeper into the pillows, his musky cologne engulfing you, lingering long after he had made his way to the bathroom, the sink handles cranking.
Cold water spewed out, captured in the same tender hands that had just cradled you as he rinsed his face. You called out for him, already missing his warmth, leaving him to stop dead in his tracks. You were fanned out on the bed- his bed, your body unfolding from under the sheets like an origami swan.
You lounged, eyes shut, your little shirt sliding further and further up your torso, tempting him. Before he could help himself, he grabbed his film camera that permanently was stationed on his old wooden dresser, the one his mother’s mother had before her, and so on.
Soon it would be covered in photos of you. His secret collection, a guilty pleasure of his favourite enigma that struck him down to his bones. You were a diamond in the rough in his life. You had consumed him, night and day. The way your voice sounded so sweet calling his name drove him to insanity.
The gentleness, the tenderness..
He needed to capture it.
“Mr. Parke- hey!” you protested as the shutter flickered a flash darting out between your heavy eyelids.
“You better not do anything with that, I look a mess.”
He snorted. “Was that a threat honey?” he asked, coy.
“Maybe.”
“Maybe hm?”
You shrieked as he set the camera down, taking a long stride before he was on top of you, caging you in as his hands pinned your wrists beside your head.
“You’re so beautiful my sweet… my beautiful, beautiful girl.” he murmured, eliciting a sigh as his forehead brushed yours, scruff grazing your neck as he inched closer to breath in the sweet scent of your perfume- always lingering on your skin.
You wiggled under him, attempting to free yourself from his grasp, and failing. It turned him on more then he cared to admit, to see you under him, almost helpless.
“Mr. Parker…”
“You know to call me Peter, sweetheart. You know what that name does to me.” He kissed your neck, once, twice and a third time.
“I should go… as much as I don’t want to…” you sighed, eyes darting over towards the ticking clock, hands seeming to move quicker and quicker as the minutes passed.
Your father would be awake soon, if not now, and that frightened you. If he woke up and found your bed empty…
“Come with me to the bar tonight. Please doll, I wanna show you off to all my friends, just to show them you’re mine.” he pleaded, seeming to make time stop completely, as you fell under his spell.
The way he was looking at you, yearning. Begging. You couldn't refuse. You didn't want to refuse.
“What time?” you asked softly, as he dipped his head back down to meet yours, a smile forming on his lips.
"Ten. I’ll pick you up at the house.”
You bit your lip. “You- you can’t. Father won’t-”
He nodded slowly, remembering how difficult your father could be.He would never allow it. Especially not with your employer. Though he was much… much more than that.
“I’ll sneak out again. Father will never find out, I’ve done it so many times, I can run out past the gate through the field…”
“Wait. Sweetheart, you need to be careful. I know you’ve done it so many times, and I hate making you do that, and putting you in danger-”
“You’re not making me do anything Mr. P- Peter.” you whispered as his lips brushed against yours. They tasted minty, the two cushions softly caressing yours, gente enough to feel as if they were a whisper.
“You don't know what's out there. So promise me you’ll be careful, I’ll be there at ten on the dot. Leave when you have to, no earlier and please, please bring a sweater darlin, it’s gonna be oh so chilly…” he trailed off and you smiled brightly with anticipation, cheeks hurting from the repetitive movement.
His forehead met yours again, a silent promise of reassurance.
It was sweet he cared for you this deeply. It made butterflies churn in your stomach like twisters, made your toes curl in excitement so tightly you feared they'd all stick together.
A drug you could never get enough of. A hope you were chasing, that this could work past the summer months that you meant more to him then you realised.
He was introducing you to his friends, that was a start. A huge start.
Mr. Parker was many things. One of those things was timely.
And truthful.
Not a minute past ten and his pickup was parked on the side of the road, nothing but red brake lights under the stars as guidance as you descended the old wooden fence on the other side of the field.
You had been pacing in anticipation all day, hardly able to stomach anything but crackers and cherries from the trees in the back. Braiding your hair just to unbraid it, to braid it again.
Peter had let you off for the day, he never really worked you- but of course your father didn't know that. So you were alone with your thoughts as you did your daily chores around the farm, tending to the sheep and cattle as the dogs nipped at your heels before darting after one another.
You didn't know where your father was when you got home. Asleep, you assumed. Or in town, to flirt with the general store owner. It didn't matter to you, what mattered was he was gone until he wasn't.
Dinner was quiet, not that you minded, just the sound of forks and knives scrapping fine china as the lanterns flickered in the dining room.
You were too focused on the night ahead, and what to expect. Or if you should be expecting anything.
No more than a quiet goodnight was said as you each tucked bodies behind wooden doors, and you wasted no time tugging on a little white lace dress, doing your hair the way you knew Peter liked the most.
You pumped the squeeze ball of your perfume, the little tassels brushing your skin and making you shiver as the scent hit your neck. The cool breeze slithered through your opened window, the curtains lashing out like branches in a storm that threatened to topple over the house.
Peter was right, it was cold. Colder than it should be for a summer night.
Normally it was stifling hot, the night time only allowing the temperature to drop just slightly. It had plummeted tonight.
You shrugged on a little cardigan over your shoulders, before slipping out the window, crawling down the large oak tree that lingered beside your house, threatening to topple over.
Now you found yourself here, whipping open the passenger door, laughing as the wind storm picked up, seeming to nearly topple you off balance.
The tires revved against the loose dirt road, gravel flying with the dust in the distance as you sped past your house. You felt like a teenager again, the way you were sneaking out, spending your night driving in cars with boys. Though they never treated you well- until Peter came along.
But he was a man you reminded yourself as you leaned your head back against the headrest, his large, veiny hand sliding over to rest on your thigh, thumb tracing little circles.
“You made it out okay?” he asked reassuringly, fawning over you as his eyes flickered from the road over to your body. Checking for scratches and gashes.
“Easy peasy.”
The radio hummed softly as his headlights flickered, and you listened to the sound of the turning signal as you gazed over at him. He was so beautiful in this light, it made your heart get stuck in your throat.
His soft locks blowing in the wind, the faded yellow beams in front of him illuminating his chiselled jaw, teeth tugging down on his bottom lip in concentration.
He was so soft in the night light, so gentle. Yet he remained possessive in such a comforting way, his hand tightening on your thigh as he turned a corner, or hit a bump.
“Are you warm enough darlin?” he asked, drinking in your little dress, and the shawl that did next to nothing to hide your shivers. You looked down, noticing your nipples had hardened on their own accord through the flimsy lace, from the chill wind or Peter's hands feeling you up- you couldn't tell.
“You’re gonna need a better jacket honey. You're a silly girl for thinking that would cover ya.”
You dipped your head and felt your cheeks heat as his teasing. You liked when he teased you. “Yes Mr. Parker.” you nodded, slipping your hand down to intertwine with his at your upper thigh.
He pulled a joint from his pocket, using his knees to steer the wheel as you endlessly grabbed the lighter from the dash and lit it for him. Smoke puffed out, trailing out the cracked opened window as he exhaled, like so many nights before.
It was routine at this point, lighting his smokes. He always shared with you, whether it was letting you have a hit, or by puffing the smoke into your mouth as he kissed you, simply intoxicating you.
“I’m nervous.” you stated bluntly as the truck rolled closer into the outskirts of town, where the local bar was. “Honey, you have no reason to be nervous, promise. They already love you.”
“They know me?” you asked.
“ ‘Course they do. Some of em might even try to snag you from me. You’re such a pretty lil thing they’ll want you all to themselves.”
You giggled at his claims, redeeming them false. Your nerves seem to grow as you pull into the parking lot, hands twisting at his fingers as if they were fidget toys. It was busy, though you didn't expect anything else for a Friday night.
The night was still young, and the party showed no sign of stopping anytime soon, people trickling in and out of the swinging wooden doors. Neon lights illuminated outside were bright, candy coloured-inticing you inside.
Before you could unlatch your seatbelt, Peter slid his hand to roughly hold your chin, huffing smoke between your lips as he kissed you harshly, teeth clashing against yours.
You barely had time to catch a breath as he gripped you tightly, holding you captive with his lips. They were swollen by the time he was done with you.
“Don't even think about reaching for that door handle sweets.” he whispered, winking as he slipped outside, cheeks tinged with pink as he took one last puff, before tossing the burnt end and crushed it with his boot.
The door was opened on your side, his hand holding yours as he guided you down from the high truck bed, steading you as you lept and swayed against him.
“My darlin’…” he murmured to himself as he took you in again, the heat of his stare sending shivers down your spine. The puff of weed made your head feel fuzzy, and you felt the heat between your thighs grow warmer as he lapped you up- like a dog begging for water.
A gentle tug broke you from your pink, doe eyed trance, and you mindlessly followed him inside, pushing past the little wooden doors.
Soft lights illuminated the room in a way that still felt dark and grungy, people in cowboy boots perched up on bar stools, or bent over with a pool cue. Some old country song trickled out of the speakers perched around the room, and your nose was overwhelmed with the scent of whisky and smoke.
You followed Peter towards the back of the bar, a group full of older looking men drinking beer over a hand of cards tossed on the table. Each of their eyes darted over towards the pair of you, one of them in the front smirking in satisfaction.
“So this is the pretty lady, is it Parker?” the man in the front asked, sliding out of the booth to tower over you, just as Peter always did.
“Bucky Barnes.” he smiled, hand sticking out to firmly grasp yours. You drank in his ocean blue eyes, the little tufts of grey in his beard, scattered like salt and pepper.
“It’s nice to meet you Mr. Barnes.” you nodded.
“Please hun, call me Bucky. No need for that formal silliness.”
“That's what I’ve told her. She’s just too polite I guess.” Peter laughed, his hand slipping down to your lower back, guiding you into the booth, atop his lap as you were introduced to his other buddies.
They were all extremely friendly, all having mini conversations amongst themselves while they sipped on their drinks, or smoked their cigarettes. Each of their hands were warm when you shook them, firm grapes from across the cluttered table.
Your attention was soon directed back to Peter, and a waitress who had so graciously appeared. “Darlin? What did ya want to drink?”
“Just a rum and coke for me please.” you smiled.
“One bill please.” Peter said before she disappeared back off into the bustling crowd.
“I can pay for my own Mr. Parker.” you frowned, annoyed with yourself for not thinking of saying that sooner. “I’m sure you can sweetheart. But I don't really care. Let me take care of you, okay?” he murmured in your ear, hitching his knee up so you had no choice but to slide back on his denim jeans, back against him fully to keep your balance.
“But-”
”No, no buts. You just enjoy this night okay? Are you doing okay, it’s not too loud in here?” he asked softly, whispering quiet enough not even Bucky, who sat next to you could hear what he said.
“I’m good. Do your friends like me, d’ya think?” you asked timidly, wanting his approval. “Oh darlin they love you. They wouldn't shut up about meeting you, they just wanted to see how pretty and smart you were in person. My words aren't enough I suppose.” he smiled, brushing a kiss just behind your ear as the server returned, two drinks in hand.
You thanked her, taking a sip from your staw, twirling around the ice cubes in the glass as they clinked against the side. Before you knew it, you were down three drinks, laughing so hard at jokes spewed from the other end of the table your sides started to ache.
A hand tugged you up to the dance floor, Bucky twirled you around in circles before dipping you down towards the floor. A smile never left your face, the room starting to slightly spin on its own accord, and you saw Peter eyeing the pair of you across the bar like a hawk, his cool stare never leaving the back of Bucky's head.
He had offered to show you around up towards the north, a place you hadn’t visited much but wished you had. “I’ll show you around.” he smiled when you asked about it, dipping you low again.
”When?”
“Whenever you're ready, call on me.” he winked in response.
By the time you had to call it quits to save your wobbly legs, you heard Bucky snicker at Peter, slapping his chest before heading back towards the group.
Oh relax Parker I wasn't trying to steal your girl, just woo her a lil.
He didn't seem to like that one very much.
“Can- can we step outside for a sec?” you asked, stumbling towards his strong, lean arms that encased you once more- a warm hug you very much needed.
“You need some fresh air darlin? It gets so loud, I know…” he trailed off, quite literally sweeping you off your feet into his arms. You curled in against his chest, feeling the sway of each long stride across the wooden floors, the crowd parting like the red sea as he passed them by, all of them gawking.
You didn't blame them. He was beautiful.
“Shh, shh” he murmured as you started to claw at his t-shirt, twisting it in circles to keep yourself steady. “I wanna shoot bottles.” you stated as the cool air hit your skin, and you instinctively curled into his warmth.
“You wanna shoot bottles now, do ya? Do you even know how to shoot a gun?” he asked, laughing. You slid down to your feet, looking up at the night sky, the stars twinkling dimly from under the rolling clouds.
“Course I don't. But you teach me.”
You heard some guys around the corner of the building laughing with their friends, the sound of cans clinking as they fell from bullet wounds. You had never shot a gun before- not really ever needing to, but you saw some of Peter's collection tucked away in one of his older storage buildings on the property.
They were vintage, slightly rusted but still in decent working condition you assumed. Peter had never shot a gun in front of you before, but you knew that he knew how. Your father had mentioned hunting trips with him back when they were kids.
Surely he couldn’t be that rusty.
“I’d teach ya eh? How do you know that I can shoot, pretty?”
You shrugged, trotting over to where the men had been previously, their guns leaned against the building.
“I’ve seen your guns.”
“Those are old. Real old, from my granddad. Brass ‘38s.” he said. “I still trust you to show me how.” you stated, toying with the barrel of a bb gun, swinging it back and forth.
“This isn’t smart while you’re drunk.”
“Not drunk.”
“So drunk.”
You huffed, picking up the gun anyways. “That’s why you show me so we don’t do anything stupid.”
“With you I always want to be stupid.” You smiled softly, pretending to aim the gun at him, mocking the sound of bullets flying through the air.
“Now you’re being stupid darlin. Don’t aim that at anyone, that’s the first rule. Though I don’t expect you to know that right now, in your condition.”
“You should show me Mr. Parker, so I can defend myself.” your voice was high, extra girly as you toyed with the weapon, feeling flirty to high hell. He chuckled, running a hand through his hair as he slid up behind you, hands wrapped around your waist as he leaned down.
“Stay around me forever and you’ll never have to defend yourself baby. You’ll never have to do anything again.”
You giggled, cheeks warming from the alcohol rushing through your blood at his remarks. He was so silly. You thought, but you wished life could be that simple.
You wanted to wake up next to him every morning, to the feeling of him deep inside, pumping his seed into you- breeding you. You wanted to fuck like rabbits, for him to stuff you full over and over again until you were dripping.
You wanted him to kiss you all over before serving you breakfast in bed, tending to your every need while you lay in his bed, legs spread.
Jesus Christ your thoughts were dangerous when you were intoxicated.
What did they say again, drunk words were sober thoughts?
“You gotta turn off the safety first sweetheart.” Peter murmured in your ear, his warm breath tickling your ear. You heard a soft click, and he guided your arms into position, hands closing over yours.
“Now look through that little eyepiece and aim towards that can there.”
You squinted, trying your very best to focus on the only can standing up on the nearby fence. It took you a few seconds, but finally you had steadied yourself with his guidance. Your finger hovered.
“And.. shoot.” he whispered, finger tightening around yours, the gun going off with a loud bang! The can crumpled in on itself quickly, the aluminium falling from its place. You squealed with delight.
“That's my girl!” he smirked, clicking the safety back on as you drunkenly wobbled into him, wanting to take the toy away before you hurt yourself.
“Did I do good?” you asked, knowing he did most of the work- but still wanting his praise anyways. “So good darlin, you’re such a good girl, y’know that?” he asked, slowly backing you up against the cold siding, caging you in his arms.
The gun was long forgotten, tossed somewhere on the ground. The way his eyes sparkled drove you wild, a hint of mischief but still a maturity- a gentleness eying you down, soaking you in.
Your breath seemed to get caught in your chest as you tilted your head up against the wall to meet his gaze fully. He was so tall, so big… and he smelt amazing.
God, you wanted to blurt all of this out loud. You couldn't keep your composure anymore… it was next to impossible around him. You melted like ice cream on a hot summer's day whenever you were in his mere prescience.
“I want you to fuck me.” you stated plainly, his eyes widening- a coy smirk forming on his face. “Is that so?”
“Yes, Mr. Parker, I really want you to fuck me. Please.”
Well he damn near fell to his knees at your sweet tone, and your puppy dog eyes as you begged. He could never say no to his baby, but he also knew the two of you couldn't do anything out in public like that.
At least not all the things he wanted to do to you.
But it didn't mean he couldn't edge you on a little more until you squirmed for him with want.
“Was that what you were so distracted with earlier? You thinkin about stuff?”
You nodded. “I was thinking about you breeding me, and filling me all up until I’mall sticky, and so tingly I can barely feel anything. And I was thinking about you pumping into me and hurting me in such a good way.” you confessed.
If he was only slightly hard before, he was rock solid now.
Fuck.
“Sweetheart fuck-.. I- I’m so much older then you-"
"Not by that much.” you insisted, hand slipping down to rub in between his legs, cupping his bulge between your smaller fingers as he suppressed a moan.
“You’re so naughty baby. D’you think about this all the time?”
“All the time. I wish you could fuck me now.”
He clucked his tongue, shaking his head. Your nipples were so hard they strained the fabric, begging to be touched by him.
“Such a dirty mouth my lil cowgirl. You gonna let daddy fuck you hard tonight?” he breathed, hand slipping down to cup your breast. Yesss. You wanted to hiss, pleasure seeping over your body.
“Mhmm. Whenever.. Whenever you w-want.” you giggled, his hands slipping down to your thighs, hosting you up to his height- your legs wrapped around his solid middle.
He kissed your neck, teeth nipping the skin as he sucked, leaving little marks that scattered across your skin. Before he could go much further, a presence lingered from the parking lot, a man leaning against a wooden post- watching you.
He whistled sharply, causing you to whip your head in shock. “Lovebirds! If you’re gonna fuck- at least invite the rest of us!” Bucky called from the sidelines.
“You couldn’t even get it up old man!” you shouted, Peter bursting out laughing against your collarbone. Steve appeared, whistling at your remark.
“Oh she got you good Buck. Low blow cowgirl.” he laughed, clapping Bucky's back, a feline grin on your face as you walked towards the pair, adjusting your shoulder strap that had slipped down in your little rendezvous.
They definitely knew you were not wearing a bra, if they didn’t know before. Oh well, not your problem.
“If you want a ride, I’d watch your tongue sweetheart.”
You laughed, stumbling over to Peter’s truck. “We’re gonna leave that here and get it tomorrow darlin. Mr. Barnes is gonna give us a ride home.” Peter whistled at you, smacking Bucky upside the head at his remarks.
“Mkay…”
“There’s not enough seats, so the pretty lady is on Parker’s lap. Unless she wants to be on mine-“ he looked over at you, winking. “I’ll make sure to hit all the bumps.”
“You pervert.” Peter snarled- walking him again. “I’m joking, I’m joking!” Bucky laughed.
“Don’t listen to him doll, he’s being stupid. He doesn’t mean any of it.” Peter murmured to you, as he guided you from his truck down to Buckys, Steve already claiming shotgun, while Sam and Tony were in the back, leaving one spot open for you and Peter.
Great. For your sake, he hoped Bucky did hit all the bumps.
It was stuffed in the vehicle, arms touching as if you were sardines in a can. But you didn’t mind being on Peter's lap. He rolled the window down, allowing the cool air to slither into the back, cooling your skin.
The other men talked about whatever while Bucky's headlights flickered on as he slowly backed out of the parking lot- but all you could focus on was Peter. He was still hard under you, you could feel his bulge through his jeans, straining against his zipper.
Your dress fanned out, leaving nothing but your underwear to rub against the denim, which was now damp. You clenched your fists, fighting back moans as Bucky sped down the road, hitting massive potholes that nearly sent your head through the roof.
You caught a glint in his eye as he looked back at you from the rear view, knowing damn well he was doing it on purpose.
“Hold on tight.” was all he said as he continued on- and you squirmed against Peter's groin.
“You keep doing that, you’re gonna regret it.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
Peter grumbled to himself, hands tightening their grip on your thighs as Bucky hit more bumps. He clenched his teeth, hissing as he rubbed against your panties, feeling the wetness drip down your thighs.
The weed had heightened everything tremendously; he seriously thought he would cum in his pants.
That’s some shit the guys her age would do- those immature pieces of shit. The thought alone made him hold you a little tighter, savouring the smell of your perfume and shampoo.
You felt delicious on him. He wanted you on his lap constantly. He just wished no one else was in the truck.
You laughed at something Steve said, as Bucky put his turn signal on, gravel rumbling under the tires as he turned down Peter's driveway.
Oh thank god.
“Thank you so, so much for the ride Mr. Barnes. It was so lovely to meet all of you.” you smiled, waving timidly as Peter opened the door, allowing you to slip off his lap and jump down to the ground, holding his hand for balance.
Peter grimly nodded, cursing your sweetness towards Bucky, that motherfucker. Bucky winked as Peter tried to subtly hide his boner as he stood- and failed.
“No problem sweetheart, just glad you’re home safe. Don’t forget my offer okay- you come around anytime and I’ll show ya around with Steve.” he nodded, and you said the rest of your goodbyes, waving to everyone before Peter slammed the door shut.
The tires squealed as Bucky put the gas to the floor, leaving nothing but dust in his wake. “They were really nice Mr. Parker. I think they liked me.” you smiled, skipping over to the front porch steps.
“Yeah, a little too much.” he muttered under his breath, catching up to you in quick, long strides. You squealed as he picked you up with ease from behind, draping you over his shoulder and carried you up the steps, unlocking the front door.
“Put me down!” you whined, letting out a yelp as he smacked your ass.
“Shh. And stop your squirming, you’re not going anywhere sweetheart.” he huffed, kicking the door shut behind you, tossing his keys on the counter.
The lights were soft and dim as he carried you up the stairs, past the closed doors to the one left open.
His bedroom.
You continued to squirm- defying his orders and you felt that sting again, the loud smack! echoing through the room as you whimpered.
You bounced down on the bed, wide eyed as you scooted back towards the headboard, legs splayed open. Watching as his hand cupped your cheek, thumb stroking your cheek mindlessly.
“You still want me t’fuck you honey?” he asked softly.
You nodded. “Use your words baby. Tell me what you want.”
“I’d like you to fuck me Mr. Parker. Please.” you added quickly. His thumb brushed over your parted lips and you opened them quickly, allowing him access- your tongue swirling around his digit as his hand forced you to look up at him.
“You’re sure?”
You nodded quickly.
“I wanna be so gentle with you darlin. You’re so sweet and soft… I just wanna be so delicate.” he sighed softly. “Fuck….”
He didn’t say he was still a little pissed at Bucky for his aimless flirting- not that it was your fault of course. Didn’t mean he didn’t want to be possessive though. He was mature enough he knew you belonged to him- he didn’t need that reassurance.
But he had to make sure you knew.
“That's okay.” you whispered, drool trickling off his thumb as he pulled it away, smearing it across your cheek. He chuckled lowly.
“You’re so good to me baby. Do you think we could try something a bit different tonight?” he asked, and you nodded.
Anxiety and excitement quelled in your chest as he started to unbuckle his belt, and unzip his jeans. You pulled off your little scrap of fabric you called a dress, instinctively covering yourself. It was a habit you tried to break- but you couldn't help it.
“No no, baby, show me.” Peter insisted, hands removing yours to reveal yourself to him. The heat in his gaze sent shivers down your spine, leaving you firmly planted in the sheets.
“You’re so beautiful. The gods write poems about your beauty, my sweet girl.” he cooed, grabbing your wrists, holding them out in front of you, planting a kiss on your forehead.
Grabbing the belt, he started to wrap them around your wrists. “Is this okay?” he looked at your face for reassurance, finding it in your gentle eyes as you smiled.
“Will it hurt?” you asked meekly.
“No, no honey I would never hurt you. You know that right?” he sat down on the bed next to you, stroking your skin in soft, calming circles.
“I know Mr. Parker.”
You knew he was your savouir. He would never- could never harm you. You trusted him with your life.
He kissed you again, the belt jangling as it was bound around your wrists. You wiggled your fingers, though unable to move your hands- helplessly bound before him.
And you had never felt so safe.
“That too tight for ya darlin?”
You shook your head.
“No Mr. Parker.”
He smirked, fingers finding there way down to brush your inner thighs, tugging at the fabric that covered where he wanted you the most. You wiggled, moaning as he teased you, his touches soft yet electric.
“Shh baby, thats it. Daddys gonna take such good care of you. I’ve got ya.” he whispered, tugging off your thong, throwing it somewhere to the floor, watching your back arch and bow off the mattress from his quick brush of his finger along your slit.
“Awh baby she’s so wet f’me. I’ve barely even touched ya, sweet thing.” he cooed, and you whined softly as he toyed with you.
“Please-“
“Please what? Hmm? Use your big girl words.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
“Please fuck me, please. Please.” you begged, squirming.
“Such naughty language. Tsk tsk” he clucked his tongue, prying your legs wide open as you fought to keep your knees together.
“You want me to do what you said earlier? You want to be full?”
You nodded.
“You can’t waste any baby. No leaking, okay? Need my baby stuffed.” he smirked, lifting your legs up, draping them over his buff shoulders.
“Do you want gentle?”
You shook your head.
“Are you sure?”
You nodded.
“Whatever my sweet girl wants.” he smiled, brushing his cock through your soaked folds, tapping your clit with the head lightly. You didn’t know how much more teasing you could take.
“Mr. Park- OH!” you cried out as he slid home, his happy trail brushing your clit. He wasted no time, lifting your thighs up so half your body was off the bed, getting the deepest angle he could as his hips began to snap into yours.
You couldn’t help but cry out, words becoming mindless babbles as he pistoned into you, hitting a certain spot that had you seeing stars. “Yeah that’s it baby. Taking me so good, you’re such a good girl.” he cooed, admiring as your arms lifted, hands over your head in the restraints as you attempted to claw onto the headboard, failing miserably.
“Aww poor thing. You got nowhere to go, do you? Stuck here just taking daddy’s cock. You’re so fucking tight jesus christ…” he trailed off, lost in his head as you squeezed him tighter, nothing but the sounds of the slapping of his balls on your skin, the sounds of your strangled noises and moans.
He couldn’t get enough of them, he never wanted them to end. Your legs began to slip from their position, turning to jello and he wasted no time quickly flipping you around with ease slipping right back in.
You moaned at the new position, as he hit a different spot- slapping your ass gently. “Atta girl. Cmon baby, make yourself feel good. Or d’ya need me to do it for ya since you’re so fuzzy?”
You mumbled something unintelligible into the pillow that sounded like “Please”, and he didn’t bother trying to make sense of it as he gripped your hips harder.
“M’so closeeee…” you hissed, clenching him tighter.
“You gonna cream on my cock? Yeah? Cream on my cock baby, atta girl darlin.” he growled possessively as you came with a sharp cry, soaking his cock.
He always let you cum first. Always. He wouldn’t be a gentleman if he didn’t. You were his princess, he wanted you to feel so good you wouldn’t even be able to remember your name.
Peter showered you in praise, rubbing your back soothingly as your legs shook from your orgasm, toes curling against the sheets.
“You’re okay sweetheart. Shhh that’s it. Good girl baby.” He flipped you back over, wanting nothing more than to see your pretty face. It was one of the things that got him off the most, seeing your eyes roll back in your head, your mouth let out those pretty noises while it rounded to an o shape.
Your chest rose quickly, up and down as you managed to catch your breath, head fuzzy.
“You okay honey?” he asked gently, forehead creasing in concern as he soothed you.
He always took such good care of you. Somehow that turned you on even more.
“M’so good.” you mumbled, meeting his soft smile.
“Well good. Cause I’m not done with ya yet darlin. Spread those legs again baby.”
Just your luck, on the heels of catching your boyfriend and brother fucking, some spider bites the shit out of you, turning your life upside down...
In honor of the new Deadpool/Wolverine flick, I'm giving this fic new life so...breathe my child!
Hey.
You're not answering your texts.
I'm going to assume that you're dead.
I got pizza.
Ok you're definitely dead.
Logan's asking about you.
Ok that was a lie. If it makes you feel better he's been on a bender since thursday...
And by thursday I mean two thursdays ago
This had been going on for the past three weeks. Ever since you'd went off the grid.
Wade texted. Logan drank. You sat alone in your apartment. Currently you sat eyeing your phone warily. Wade went radio silent two days ago, and that made you nervous.
It was never good when your idiot brother didn't pester you. Shaking your head, you sighed and turned your phone off. No use staring at a blank phone screen, waiting to ignore the texts that weren't going to come. Flopping back on the mattress you stretched the kinks out of your legs and glanced to the side, trying to ignore the foul odor coming from your closet.
With a groan you sat up and for the first time really looked around your apartment. It was filthy. Running a hand through your greasy hair, you paused to look at the mousy ends. Your surroundings were a grody reflection of how you felt on the inside. Your eyes flicked again to the closet door that was slightly ajar and you instinctively itched at an aggravated red bite mark on your arm.
In all honesty, you hadn't gone radio silent simply over what had occurred between yourself, Wade, and Logan.
There was another reason...
Looking away from the closet door you flexed your jaw and groaned. The feeling of filth crawling across your skin won in the end, and after a week of nesting in your mound of blankets and pillows, you rolled out of bed and trudged to the bathroom. Shuffling past the mirror you shucked off your nightshirt and tossed it on the floor. You didn't have to look at your reflection to know that you looked exactly how you felt.
Like dog shit.
Turning on the water, you stepped in the shower and hissed at the practical ice that hit your back. Cursing yourself for not waiting, you angrily turned the knob until the water came streaming out at an unbearable temperature. Anything to feel something.
If you'd checked your phone before deciding to DIY a molten skin peel in the shower, you'd have seen the pivotal text.
Im coming over
Your skin was a brilliant vermillion hue by the time the pipes began squealing in protest, and you quickly turned off the water before receiving another beautiful blast of frigid water to the face. The faucet continued dripping, and you scrubbed your hair dry to the steady sound.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Bang! Bang!
You jumped, hitting your head on the shower wall and hissed. Your front door was none too gently flung open, and you scrambled for anything to defend yourself, huffing when your hands landed on the plunger. It would have to do. Slinking behind the door, you crouched as the distinct sound of heavy footsteps came down the narrow hall towards the bathroom. You tensed and readied to defend yourself.
"Sis?"
Wade.
You slumped against the wall, exhaling heavily and dropped the plunger.
"Sis?" The bathroom door slowly creaked open.
"I'm naked you idiot!" You screamed, slamming it shut. Wade swore on the other side. You sighed and rested your forehead heavily against the flimsy wood. "Why didn't you call?!"
"I texted." He sounded defensive. Banging your head against the door you groaned.
"Let me get dressed." Wade shuffled back down the hallway to give you space, and you waited until his footsteps faded and you were certain he was in the living room before inching the door open. Peeking out and seeing the hallway empty, you quickly tip toed back to your room.
And hissed.
You didn't have any clean clothes. Your eyes darted around the filthy room until finally landing on something vaguely brownish in the corner. Snatching it up, you gave it an exploratory sniff.
"Clean enough." You grumbled, yanking it over your head and trudged back to the bathroom to wrap your still dripping hair in a towel. Pausing in front of the mirror you groaned.
To your growing mortification, you realized that this brown... thing had been the gag gift you'd received at last year's Dirty Santa party. Staring back at you was the demented face of that planter's peanut, and under it... Goofy Goober. "Just great." You muttered, tugging at the hem of the shirt and reluctantly headed towards the living room.
Wade sat sprawled out on your ratty old couch and perked up when he heard your footsteps. Looking up, he noticed your shirt and smirked.
"Kinky." You merely rolled your eyes and folded your arms, leaning against the door frame.
"Why are you here, Wade?" He fidgeted with his phone, and tossed it on the couch, nervously rubbing his palms on his thighs.
"We, I was worried about you."
"Well, as you can see, I'm fine." You gestured to your surroundings with more confidence than you felt. Wade glanced around and looked back at you with a raised brow.
"Yeah, as fine as Logan." You tensed.
"Don't mention him." Pulling away from the frame, you shuffled to the kitchenette and rinsed out a mug. Wade followed you and sat at the small folding table.
"We've all been trying to reach you." He said gingerly, folding his hands and twiddling his thumbs.
"I know." You filled the mug with water and popped it into the microwave. "And I thought it was obvious I wanted to be left alone." You didn't have to look over your shoulder to know that Wade bristled at that. Good. You thought bitterly.
"I'm worried about-"
"You lost the right to be worried about my well-being when I caught you fucking my boyfriend in my apartment, Wade!" Your voice sounded tinny even in your own ears, but you didn't back down as you stared down at your brother bitterly. Wade's eyes shuttered and he opened his mouth to protest, but at your heated glare he backed down.
"It was a shitty move." He whispered.
I'm sorry.
"Do you want a cup of coffee?" You responded.
You're an idiot.
"Yeah." He met your eyes. Nodding woodenly, you rinsed out another mug and stiffly went through the rote motions of making two cups of coffee. The instant stuff.
It wasn't good, but it was cheap.
Plopping the mugs on the collapsable table, you sat heavily in the folding chair, and took a sip of the rusty brew. Wade turned his cups in circles and stared into the black liquid.
"No creamer?" His eyes flicked up to you. You shrugged and took another sip.
"Assholes don't get creamer." He winced.
"Fair enough." He muttered and drained half of the scalding coffee in one gulp. Wade looked at you over the rim of his cup and studied you, his eyes focusing in on the angry red mark that still lingered on your arm, even after three weeks. "How've you been?" He chanced to ask, hesitantly.
"Not great." You smiled tightly, and he couldn't miss the way your left eye slightly twitched.
"Have you gotten that checked out?" Wade gestured to the red mark, which you quickly covered with your free hand.
"It's fine, Wade." You hissed.
"You're hiding something." He narrowed his eyes. Your grip on the mug tightened, and the distinct sound of glass cracking could be heard. Coffee began spurting out of a large crack in the side of your mug, causing you to hiss again as the hot liquid hit your hand. Wade's brows raised and he jumped back with a loud, 'Woah!', when you growled again and flung the mug at the wall.
He wasn't taken aback by the blood covering your hand, rather it was your reaction that had him jumping up, knocking over his chair in the process. You were glowering down at your hand, jaw slightly unhinged and... something was dripping from your...
"Fangs?" He breathed, and your eyes shot up to meet his. "Yo!" He scrambled over himself, backing towards the couch. You stood stock still, hand still dripping blood, but you were something otherworldly in that moment.
Your jaw had unhinged like a snake, and you indeed sported a pair of fangs that currently had some sort of venom dripping from them. Wade sat heavily on the couch, and you quickly came back to yourself, eyes clearing as you rushed to the sink to tend to the cut.
While you were busy running cold water over the cut, and squeezing out the blood that continuously oozed out, Wade sat in shock, running his hands through his hair. You glanced over your shoulder at him, nervously and turned off the water.
His head shot up, and you turned off the water as he stood and sniffed the air. Your heart stuttered to a stop.
He smelt it.
You'd become so accustomed to the stench; you'd taken for granted how horrid it was. Your horror grew as his eyes drifted down the hall towards your room.
You followed his line of sight, and slowly your eyes met again. Wade's eyes narrowed and he glanced back down the hall, and then down at your hand, dripping blood again.
You rushed to grab a hand towel, and Wade strode to your room. Cursing under your breath, you wrapped your hand and tripped over yourself in a panic to cut him off.
No dice. Wade flung your door open, and you found him on the floor, staring into your closet dumbly.
The blood rushed to your head; your hands felt clammy. Reaching out a hand, you braced yourself against the doorframe and stared at your brother, staring at the box in your closet.
The box overflowing with dead pigeons.
Finally, he tore his eyes away from the grisly sight, and looked up at you, ashen faced.
"Wade." You choked out before everything went black.
You came to with a groan as a cold cloth was placed on your forehead. Cracking your eyes open slowly you realized you'd been moved to the couch. Groaning again you tried to sit up.
"Easy." Wade admonished quietly, helping you into a sitting position, grabbing a throw pillow to prop behind your back.
"How long was I out?" You held the cloth to your forehead and gingerly felt the back of your head, breathing a sigh of relief when you didn't find a bump. Wade sat back and waived a hand dismissively.
"About five minutes." You nodded silently and closed your eyes, willing your head to stop spinning. Wade fidgeted and rubbed the back of his neck.
"So," He looked around the room before back at you hesitantly.
"So?" You opened one eye and considered him critically. Wade crossed his arms and raised a brow.
"We gonna talk about the you know... fangs and dead pigeons?" His leg bounced, and the corners of his lips lifted derisively. You flopped back against the couch.
"You are not seriously playing concerned big brother right now?!" You grumbled, covering your eyes with the cloth. "Hey!" You shouted when he yanked the cloth off your face. Shooting up, you glared at him and grabbed for the cloth, which he easily held out of your reach. "Give it back!" You huffed.
"Not until you start talking, Dracula." You narrowed your eyes and hissed. Wade tossed the cloth in your lap and folded his arms, nonplussed. Holding it to your forehead you again lay back on the couch and stared at the ceiling. "That gets old real fast."
"What does?" You glanced at him out of the corner of your eyes. Wade rolled his and leaned back in the folding chair he'd dragged over to the couch.
"The hissing thing. You sound like a deranged cat." He chuckled when you stuck your tongue out at him.
"If I weren't a lady, I'd tell you to get,"
"You're not a lady." He said dryly. You rolled over and propped yourself up on your elbow and pointed the limp rag at him.
"Fine. Get fucked." Pausing you sat up and looked at him with an exaggeratedly shocked expression. "Oh, wait... you already did. By my boyfriend."
"Ouch." He easily caught the rag you tossed at him. "Does it make you feel better to know you have excellent taste in men?" Your expression went flat, and you smiled thinly.
"Are you planning on trying out every man I bring home?" Wade visibly flinched and your brow twitched. "Aw, what's the matter, little sister's burns too much for you?" You taunted, sitting up and crossing your legs.
He snorted and placed the rag on the back of his neck. You smiled widely, your newly acquired fangs flashing briefly, and your smile slipped when you saw the flash of apprehension on his face. He turned his attention from you back to your surroundings.
"I'm the last person to comment on someone's digs, but this place has really gone to shit, Y/N." Wade looked back at you, concern in his eyes. You frowned, and your tongue ran over your fangs thoughtfully.
A new tick you'd picked up since they'd appeared. You were honestly a bit surprised that your tongue wasn't bloody and raw from as many times as you'd passed it over your sharpened incisors.
"Yeah, well, the last three weeks haven't exactly been a walk in the park, Wade." You uncrossed your legs and stood, snatching the rag out of his hand and headed towards the bathroom, Wade hot on your heels. Tossing the rag in the hamper, you turned to see Wade's attention had strayed to the cabinets over the toilet.
Your blood ran cold.
It was one thing for Wade to find your box of... experiments, as you called them. But you definitely didn't need him snooping further into your latest escapades.
"What's this?" Wade grabbed the black slip of fabric and held it up to examine it.
Too late.
You closed your eyes and grit your teeth, willing the rest of the world to dissolve. Just five minutes. Was that too much to ask? Five minutes of peace?
"Y/N?" You cracked an eye open to see him looking at you pointedly, holding up the garment for emphasis.
"It's nothing." You bit out, snatching the garment from his hands and stuffing it back into the cabinet, slamming it shut.
"It's clearly something." Wade folded his arms. "The fangs and hissing thing again, right?" Sighing you leaned against the bathroom wall in resignation.
"Yeah." You slumped to the floor and hugged your knees to your chest.
"What gives, kid?" He gave you a concerned look, sliding to the floor beside you. "Y/N?" Wade gently nudged your shoulder.
"I got bit." Smiling tightly, you looked sideways at him and shrugged. "I don't know, some crazy spider, I think."
"And that's when you went all 'Elvira mistress of the dark'?"
"Pretty much." Instinctively you itched the aggravated bite again.
"So, I shudder to ask, but what's up with the dead pigeons? Are you trying to create an army of zombie birds?"
"No, idiot." You cracked your first genuine smile in weeks.
"Then again, what gives?"
"Experiments." You offered simply. Wade raised a brow and leaned back to study you.
"You know that's giving major Frankenstein and his monster vibes, right?"
"Maybe I should just bite you to test my theory." You said drolly, closing your eyes and leaning your head against the grimy wall.
"What's this shady theory of yours?"
"Hmm?" Cracking one eye open you acknowledged him before closing it again. Wade scooted closer and nudged your knee with his.
"What's cooking in your noggin', Frankenstein?" You wrinkled your nose at the dig and sighed, turning to face him.
"I'm pretty sure the stuff I've been orally secreting,"
"Venom?"
"Yeah, venom," you hissed bitterly. "I'm fairly certain this venom, is poisonous, fatally so. At least to small animals."
"And you tested this theory out on little critters? That's kinda twisted, sis."
"Says the Merc with a mouth!" You punched his shoulder.
"Ouch!" Wade winced dramatically and rubbed his shoulder. "Easy, killer." Your face hardened and he instantly regretted his choice of words.
"Obviously I'm not going to risk finding out if my venom is fatal to an actual person."
"Why not?" He leaned forward, startlingly animated.
"You're joking?! You were just negging me for biting some pigeons. Little animals are off limits but whole people are fair game? That's twisted, big brother." Wade rolled his eyes and waived off your tirade.
"I'm not saying you should grab some rando off the street. I mean, hello! You've got the perfect test subject right here!" He gestured to himself.
"You want me to bite you?" You looked askance at him. Wade pulled a face and shrugged.
"Why not. If it's not fatal, no harm. If it is fatal, I'll regenerate anyways. It's a win win!" You folded your arms, unimpressed.
"You just want to get bit by a vampire." You folded your arms, unimpressed. Wade sighed heavily and scooted even closer, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and rested his chin on your shoulder.
"This is the closest I'm gonna get to that! Come on, sis, don't take this away from me!" He whined, jostling your body. You struggled against his grip, but Wade doubled down and gave you that insipid puppy dog pout you hated.
Naturally it didn't work on you, but you'd do anything to wipe it off of his face.
"Pest." You hissed, and turned, biting down on his neck harshly. Wade clenched his jaw as the venom burned hot through his veins. You pulled back hesitantly and wiped your mouth on the back of your arm and watched him. At first, he had no reaction beyond a light layer of sweat beading against his hairline.
He turned to look at you and opened his mouth when his eyes rolled back, and he twitched violently before going stiff and flopping over.
"Wade?" Your blood ran cold, and you reached out a shaky hand to touch his arm. He twitched again and you recoiled with a choked sound and scrambled on top of the toilet. Moments of sheer panic and dread passed as you watched his skin take on a grey pallor. It felt as though your heart might jump out of your chest.
Gingerly you climbed down from the toilet and inched closer to him until you were standing by his head.
"Wade?" You whispered shakily and nudged at his cheek with your foot.
He opened his eyes and gasped for air.
His hand reached out and clamped around your ankle.
You shrieked and kicked him in the face.
He grunted and roughly yanked your leg out from under you. Another shriek turned into a sharp exhale of air as your back made contact with the hard linoleum.
"Was that really necessary?" You growled, biting back a sound of pain.
"Says the woman who just killed me." He groaned, rubbing the side of his face. You turned your head to meet his eyes.
"You recovered." Wade barked out a short laugh.
"At least we know two things now." He rolled over and sat up with a grunt and offered you a hand.
"Yeah?" You took his hand, and he pulled you into a sitting position. "What have you deduced, Sherlock?" You stood and stretched out your back muscles and offered him a hand up. Wade took it and stumbled to his feet.
"That I'm never going near your feet again, and I'm gonna make sure not to piss you off in the future." He gestured to the puncture marks on his neck. You narrowed your eyes playfully and bared your teeth with a hiss. Wade held up his hands to shield himself and dodged you easily with a chuckle.
"Oh, no, please, scary vampire lady!" Your smile faded and your eyes shuttered. "Aw, sis, I was just kidding." He wrapped an arm around your shoulder again and squeezed.
"I know." You offered a halfhearted smile and elbowed him gently in the ribs. "But all jokes aside, Wade, I'm a threat." You've seen, when I'm pissed it's hard to control. It's like I instinctually need to put something in my mouth." You groused, folding your arms. Wade smirked and coughed to cover a snort.
"I could do so many things with that statement." He snorted again. You rolled your eyes.
"You're disgusting, Wade." He opened his mouth to argue when there was a knock at the door. "Not again." You grumbled and marched to the door.
"What's not again?" Wade called out, and when you didn't respond he followed, curiosity leading him.
"The fourth time this month! I swear they won't leave me alone." Ignoring his presence, you grumbled to yourself as you stormed to the door, building steam as you went.
Wade would've asked what you were so angry about, but his neck was still smarting, and he wasn't exactly jumping to have a repeat experience.
Grabbing the folding chair, Wade straddled it and folded his arms over the back. Reaching for the doorknob you whipped your head in his direction to glare at him.
"Oh, don't mind me. I'm just here until intermission." He smirked and propped his chin on his folded arms.
He probably should've reminded your that you were still wearing that idiotic goofy goober sleeping shirt, but what the heck.
Gripping the doorknob, you yanked it open roughly, splinters flying back as the wood split with the force of your hand. Wade flinched.
"I told you I wasn't interested, Peter," Your anger instantly evaporated as you took in the giant of a man staring down at you stoically.
"Not Peter." His voice was flat, his expression unaltered as he stood there, arms folded. You took a step back and looked down, realized the knob was still in your hand.
"Great." You muttered, closing your eyes shut and squeezing the doorknob. You didn't have to look to know that you'd most likely ripped the door off its hinges. Again. Sighing deeply, you opened your eyes and forced a smile before turning back to the behemoth.
"Can I interest you in a shitty cup of coffee?"
Thank you for reading!!! Likes, reblogs, and comments always appreciated! 🥰🥰🥰
Couldn't get older gentleman Miguel O'Hara out of my brain, and what if he were heavily mob boss coded and suuuper mysterious???
"Stop looking at him like that, it's creepy!" Jess leaned over, hissing in your ear. Brushing off the unpleasant sensation you leaned back and gave her a dirty look.
"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about, Jess!" Grabbing several paper towels, you began furiously wiping up a wet spot on the counter. Folding her arms, she raised a brow and gave you a knowing look.
"Don't think I haven't noticed how you've been staring at him every time he comes in! And don't try to deny it!" Clenching the towels in your hand you closed your eyes and clenched your teeth. She wasn't wrong. Much as you hated to admit it, you'd developed something of a... fascination for the older mysterious gentleman who'd taken to coming in everyday now.
And every morning he ordered the same thing. A plain hot chai, cream on the side. Then he'd do the same thing, every day.
He took his chai and sat in the exact same chair at the exact same table, every day. And every day you watched him shake open the paper. And he sat there for exactly forty-five minutes to the dot. Never a minute more, never a minute less.
Then he'd neatly fold and crease his paper, tuck it under his arm, return the empty teacup, and thank you in that rolling accent of his, and he'd walk out the door.
In the weeks he'd been frequenting the shoppe where you managed, you'd exchange a handful of words with the man, and that was a generous estimate at best. And yet, somehow, you'd become fairly well acquainted with the stodgy man.
For starters, he was wealthy. Disgustingly if you had to guess. From the way he dressed to the way he carried himself, he exuded confidence and that old-world charm that seemed to be going rapidly extinct. His appearance was always meticulous.
He didn't dress in a flashy manner, that had you supposing that he was a self-made man who valued his money, and preferred to invest in the quality of his garments rather than simply following whatever was the idiotic trend of the week dictated by the self-proclaimed fashion gods.
In summary, you were besotted.
"I swear, you've got some serious daddy issues, or a major grandpa kink." Jess' voice dragged you out of your thoughts and back to your present reality. Coffee. Strong coffee at that. Your shop prided itself on the special blends you brewed. It was rumored that even celebrities popped in from time to time, discreetly of course. Tossing the towels in the bin, or trashcan as you'd say back home, you threw Jess a wry grin.
"Maybe it's a little bit of both, J." You chuckled at her scowl. You knew she hated that nickname, which was precisely why you continued using it.
"He actually remembered your name today." She teased, bumping your hip playfully as she passed to wipe down the tables.
"Yeah, yeah, big whoop." Rolling your eyes, you opened the cash register to make sure you'd have enough funds to make it through lunch. Business usually tapered off around 12:30, meaning you'd most likely be able to dash to the bank and back without being missed.
Jess hated holding down the fort, but hey, perks of being the manager, right? Flipping through the fives, you were so focused on counting and facing the bills, initially you didn't notice when a customer came to stand in front of the register. He cleared his throat.
"I'll be right with you." You said politely, glancing up absently. Him. Your throat constricted and your grip on the bills tightened. "Mr. O'Hara." Your voice sounded a pitch too high even to your ears. Stuffing the bills back into the drawer, you slammed it shut just a bit more forcefully than necessary. A ghost of a smirk crossed his face, but before you could fully appreciate it, his features fell back into their usual passive refrain, and he slid the empty teacup across the counter.
"You're finished early." The words left your mouth before you could stop them. You felt a telltale flush creep up the back of your neck. He did smirk this time. You reached for the teacup, utterly mortified. You weren't supposed to keep tabs on how long customers spent in the shop. That was creepy, right?
"Yes, I've unforeseen matters to attend to."
Your heart jumped at that. He was talking to you. Sure, it was vague and a bit cryptic, but Miguel O'Hara was actually talking to you. And while his expression remained impassive, something in his eyes told you he wasn't exactly pleased to have his schedule messed up.
That you could understand. As a rule of thumb, you yourself were a creature of habit. If your plans were screwed with, it had the strong potential to through your whole day off.
"Well, I hope it resolves itself." Offering what you hoped was a conciliatorily smile, you placed the teacup in the mess bucket and turned to take it to the dishwasher.
"Oh, just one moment." You turned expectantly. He flipped open his brief case and fished out a book. A very old book from the looks of it. "Here." He held out the book and you took it gingerly. "I recall we were discussing the classics,"
"We were?" You blurted without thinking. Mr. O'Hara soured at your outburst. Pursing your lips, you waited for him to continue.
"Perhaps I heard you and your friend discussing it in passing, regardless, I recall you mentioning that you'd never read 'Anna Karinina'. To be quite honest I found such a notion appalling. Most likely the result of the poor public education system."
Your head span like a dervish under his barrage of words, you hadn't been aware he was even capable of so many. And caught- as you were- under the spell of his dulcet voice, you could scarcely find it within yourself to be affronted by his blatant dig at your supposed 'upbringing'.
"Nevertheless, that is neither here nor there," He continued, shutting his briefcase. "You now possess a copy, and I expect you to read it." His eyes pierced through you with the order.
"Yes, sir." You murmured, your ears burning under the heat of his gaze.
"You seem intelligent. And an intelligent woman should be well read." He tapped on the cover of the book for emphasis. Your mouth went dry, and you found it impossible to tear your eyes away from his. You were vaguely aware of yourself nodding in agreement. With a final curt nod, he left without so much as a look back.
Looking down at the book, you actually took the time to look at it. A first edition copy of 'Anna Karinina'.
"What did he say? Come on, tell me!" Jess rushed over, animated and full of questions.
"He... gave me this." You gestured to the book and handed it to her without a second thought. The shock of the encounter had left you a little hazy.
"This is a first edition, those aren't cheap!" She looked at you and narrowed her eyes. "What else did he say?"
"I think I need to sit down." The blood rushed to your head, and your knees wobbled. Jess placed the book on the counter and grabbed your arm.
"Easy, girl, come on, easy does it." She pulled out a chair at one of the tables and you sat with a heavy thud. "I observed,"
"You eavesdropped." You looked at her pointedly. Jess huffed.
"I eavesdropped. But I couldn't hear much." She grumbled, tapping her nails on the table. "But I saw how he looked at you."
"How did he look at me?" You squirmed in your seat; not certain you wanted Jess' undoubtedly accurate insight. Somehow it might make it... real... tangible. She leaned forward and looked at you seriously.
"He was practically eye fucking you through the entire conversation." She said with a bit more gravitas than you'd have liked. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you willed your head to stop spinning. "What else did he say?" Her tone was gentler this time, concern shining in her eyes. You sighed heavily and propped your chin in your hand.
"He said I seemed intelligent."
"He's seducing you." She concluded. Your mouth opened and you looked at her as though she'd grown a second head.
"Jess, be serious! A man like Miguel O'Hara,"
"My point, exactly." She cut you off, adamantly. "A man like Miguel O'Hara, with his reputation, and disdain for Americans, no offence,"
"None taken." You waived a hand dismissively. "Continue."
"When a man like that starts handing out expensive books and compliments, that's as good as him propositioning you.
"Well, he sure has a funny way of going about seduction, and what do you mean, reputation?" You look up at her before closing your eyes and rubbing your temples.
"You honestly haven't heard the rumors?"
"If I had I wouldn't be asking, would I, Jess." If you'd opened your eyes at that moment, you'd have seen the nasty look she was giving you.
"No need to get snippy with me."
"Sorry." You sighed, dropping your forehead to the table's surface. Placated, she continued.
"He's a terribly mysterious businessman, few people actually know how he makes his money."
"And naturally people imagine the worst and run their big fat mouths."
Jess soured a little at your dismissal of her words and shook her head. "All I'm saying is... tread lightly when dealing with the likes of Miguel O'Hara." She reached out and squeezed your hand. Your grin turned wry, and you returned the squeeze before releasing her hand.
"I'll keep that in mind, besides," Pulling away from the table you stood up and shrugged. "What's the likelihood I'll actually end up in his bed?" You both chuckled.
i really need kiss tasm!peter rn. we should kiss for straight 3 hours or something like that. i want him to explain me how quantum physics work and he'll get excited while talking (i know my boy) then my heart will fell like it's gonna explode then i'll grab his cheeks, pull him to me and i'll kiss him and we'll make out. I REALLY NEED TO KISS HIM RIGHT NOW. THIS IS URGENT ‼️
╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all peter parker stories i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) <3
MASTERLIST • MARVEL • 06/25/24
peter parker one
@waitimcomingtoo ✰ the way that you were you and Peter reunite at a college party and discover he is no longer the sweet nerd you knew in high school
@forever-rogue ✰ fake dating
@dameronology ✰ come home peter parker can't protect you from everything, no matter how hard he tries
@pearlfeline ✰ homesick
@angelfic ✰ into the blogosphere peter’s crush is now his chem partner. complicated? not until he finds her blog dedicated to a certain masked vigilante.
@moonstruckme ✰ tasm!peter ✰ big boobs!reader
@urrockstar-xe ✰ winter formal although reader misses hanging around her special spider friend, her crush on a certain peter parker boy has her distracted
@/deactivated blog ✰ close to my heart physical affection has been a part of your friendship since it began years ago, it was only a matter of time peter questioned why he was the only one...on the receiving end of your hugs and kisses.
@masterofmunson ✰ grand gestures You just want Peter to make you a priority again.
@finnwrld ✰ one in the same spiderman visits you everyday and listens to you talk about your massive crush on an unnamed boy, completely oblivious to the fact he and the boy are one in the same.
@sapphireplums ✰ one more chance peter lost you once in his world, but when he crosses paths with you again in another world, he is determined to let you know how he feels.
@dilf-lover99 ✰ the secrets we keep Reader and Peter have been together for over a year, but lately Peter’s been acting strange. When a rumour goes around that he’s cheating, will Peter finally confess the secret he’s been keeping?
@/deactivated blog ✰ three more kisses three times you dodge his kiss and the one time he dodges yours (unsuccessfully)
@ptersparkers ✰ crush peter has been visiting you as spider-man long enough to develop a crush on you. the problem? you have a crush on somebody else.
Roommate!Miguel who opens the door to his off-campus uni accommodation with a confused look on his face. You explain that you'll be taking the extra room in his apartment because of an administrative mix-up and he moves aside to let you in.
Roommate!Miguel who is most definitely the best-looking guy you've ever seen in your whole life, but who's probably a f*ckboy because of course he has to know how good-looking he is.
Roommate!Miguel who's been single ever since he got out of a bad relationship a while back, but who can't ignore the way his knees go weak whenever you shoot him what has to be the sweetest smile he's ever seen in his life.
Roommate!Miguel who you quickly fall into an easy routine with, studying together in the afternoons, teaching each other how to cook in the evenings, struggling against his grip when he drags you to the gym every morning. "Can't have my roommate collapsing on me in the middle of finals," he always teases you as you dig your heels into the floor in protest.
Roommate!Miguel who finds his missing hoodie in your room, slung over the back of your chair over your backpack. "Princesa," he calls as he walks out of your room, damning evidence in hand, "what the hell are you doing with my hoodie?" You stroll over to him, not embarrassed in the slightest, and pluck the soft fabric out of his hand. "I wear it to the library! And lectures! It's just so warm, jellito!" He frowns at the ridiculous nickname, folding his arms across his chest, and you feel your heart swell at the sight of the exasperated look he always reserves for you.
Roommate!Miguel who acts like he's annoyed, but who's secretly delighted by the thought of all the people who must have seen you in his hoodie - all the people who probably think that you're his now and he's yours. He wonders if his scent has rubbed off on you, but thinks it would be too creepy to try to get a whiff of you. He sucks in a breath discreetly anyway.
Roommate!Miguel who you accidentally say "night, love you!" to while heading to your bedroom after your regular Friday night movie night. He freezes at the declaration, but you laugh it off, apologising and telling him it's a force of habit. Then, so softly you thought you might have imagined it, "night, love you too, princesa." You spin back around to shoot him a wide grin and he feels his heart threaten to burst out of his chest.
Roommate!Miguel who convinces you to go for the annual Halloween costume party at one of the frat houses some of his friends are in. "I'll be right there with you, princesa. We don't have to drink anything if you don't want to and we can always leave if you get too uncomfortable. But I know how much you love dressing up." You chew on your lip as you think about it, regretting showing him pictures of all the costumes your mum had sewed for you whenever there was a dress-up event at school. You finally agree, but only if he'll dress up as the Marc Antony to your Cleopatra.
Roommate!Miguel who swears his heart stops when he sees you in your costume: golden snake tiara perched atop your dark curls, almond-shaped eyes accentuated by your perfectly winged liner, curvy little body almost completely visible beneath the sheer white sheath that bunches around your chest and hips. His eyes drink you in as you approach him, his gaze trailing down your toned leg, tanned skin exposed by the slit that runs down from your waist. "Is it okay?" you ask, completely oblivious to how badly he wants to throw you onto the sofa and lick you up. "You can't see anything, can you?" You gesture to your ass and he swallows down the saliva pooling in his mouth as he shakes his head. You move closer to him and fix him with a conspiratorial look, your lips curled into a wide smile as you reveal that you're wearing a thong. His heart melts in his chest when you giggle at your own confession and all the blood rushes to his core as your point to your chest. "And something called 'nipple tape'?"
Roommate!Miguel who keeps you close to his side throughout the night, his fingers sliding along your waist and lower back, always hovering dangerously close to your ass. He looks so handsome in his costume, his chiselled features making him look like he stepped out of a historical movie.
Roommate!Miguel who sinks into the last empty space on one of the sofas then gestures for you to take a seat on his lap. You gulp nervously at the thought and your stomach flips when he raises an eyebrow at you. You perch on the tip of his knee, but he slides his arm beneath your legs and pulls them over both of his, his other arm guiding your hand to his shoulder.
Roommate!Miguel whose insides are on fire at the feeling of his sweet and gorgeous roommate settled on his lap for everyone to see. He keeps his gaze fixed on yours as his hands wander over your body, his fingers sneaking through the slit in your dress to stroke your bare thigh. "Miguel," you whine, the sound like music to his ears, "isn't this is a little inappropriate?" "More or less inappropriate than those two practically having sex on the couch?" he retorts, his eyes never leaving yours as he gestures to a couple vigorously making out across from you. You flinch, embarrassed by the sight, and Miguel groans at the feeling of your ass brushing against his cock.
Roommate!Miguel who took the time to get to know you: your likes, dislikes, favourite foods and the most minor of pet peeves. He'll open the windows every morning so you can get the sunlight when you awaken and you'll rush to the supermarket during finals to keep the fridge stocked with the pickles he likes to munch on while studying. You run your fingers through his soft chocolate waves as you gaze into his fiery copper eyes, your lips a breath apart, the air around you crackling with tension.
Roommate!Miguel whose kiss is just as sweet as he always is to you, his lush lips brushing against yours, the tangy taste of him so delicious on your tongue. You slide your hands along the hard planes of his chest as you kiss him, your fingers sliding up the back of his neck and into his hair. You'd dream of this moment every time you'd see the sweat glistening on his skin after a workout or catch his dark hair curling around his ears after a shower, but none of your fantasies could have ever compared to the real thing.
Warnings: not accurate to actual mafia, violence, smut, protective!Miguel, reader's body, hair type, hair color, eye color & skin tone are not described, Spanish translations are rough because my Spanish is mixed with Mexican & Puerto Rican Spanish, so forgive me
Summary: Miguel O'Hara is the leader of the Fangs. He does everything in his power to make sure Nueva York is safe from any harm while also being a successful CEO at Alchemax, while also running his own businesses on the side such as clubs, casinos, and even docks. He wanted to expand though and help out small businesses since he knew it was sometimes hard. Him being him, got the urge to satisfy his sweet tooth in both owning and eating. He couldn't help but notice the little bakery near one of his clubs that was pretty quiet for rush hour. Was it new? He didn't know, but once he stepped in, he was automatically captivated by the delicious aroma and number of different baked goodies that were from all over the world. However, when he saw you, he felt like he was back in high school; a nervous wreck around a girl. Unfortunately, he doesn't mix business with pleasure, so the uncertainty to offer a helping hand with your bakery was weighing on him. The businessman in him says no, but the inner romantic in him says yes. However, the mafia man in him says...both.
Summary:
You never had a 'spidey sense,' as you came to learn from your time as part of Spider Society. You'd gotten along this far without it and were an excellent spider-woman regardless. Then you meet Miguel O'Hara and it awakens something in you. A strange buzzing in the back of your head.It doesn't stop whenever he's in sight, and you think he knows what's happening to you.
Something about Miguel draws you in. What made him so fucking special?
Notes:
This is my first fic I'm sharing and I'm doing my best 😅
Warnings:
Just porn with plot, Oral (M and F receiving), P in V sex, Fingering, Size kink, Praise kink, TENSION, Angsty as hell, hurt/ comfort, Miguel is doing his best with feelings, cannon typical violence (Will update as I think of them)
AO3
All chapters marked with * contain NSFW content (So, like... most of them)
Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Fingering, Fear Play, Dubcon, Choking, Slapping, Mean!Miguel
Summary: He can’t decide if he likes when you cry from pleasure or from fear more.
Word Count: 1.5K (Not Edited)
Maybe this arrangement was not so bad.
Miguel knew nerds were full of fun. It was fun to pick on them and watch them tremble. But, that by no means meant he wanted to spend his weekends hanging out with one. He had other things to do, like go to practice and trash abandoned spots with cigarettes and beer cans with his group. But if it meant staying on the team, he could suck it up. Especially when the freak tutoring him is so easy on the eyes.
A pretty, delicate thing, too. Always trembling like a deer caught in headlights look plastered to your face whenever he appears. Tail tucked between your legs when you spot him on campus with his friends, alarm bells ringing as you try to pass him unnoticed. It is so cute. So precious. And it is so unbelievably easy for you to shrink in on yourself. It is a fucking power trip. It feeds him, makes him hungry for more.
His favorite pastime is scaring you. Making sudden, jerky movements so you flinch. Loves how you almost fall over yourself, bumping your knees or elbows on the table and dropping shit everywhere. Always making a fucking mess. Always making a mess of yourself. He is extra loud, displaying his power. He is throwing his bag on the ground rougher than needed to. He is pulling his chair out so hard that it flies out and scrapes marks into the carpet. He is tossing his notebooks onto the table and slamming his hand down to the point that it stings his skin. You always yelp, jolting and squeezing your eyes shut. Turning to him with glossy eyes and shaky lips. So delicious. So pretty for him.
He needs more. More and more and more. He gets everything he wants, and he knows exactly how to get it. It is simply, easy. You are a pushover, you fold easily (a theory he is happy to test in his bed). All it takes is a call, a low tone of voice that is so purposely dark and menacing that you stutter out incoherent babbles. Perfect, absolutely perfect. You are there in an hour, fidgeting when he opens the door. You have that shy, ready to run look in your eyes as you look up at him. You are a fucking prude, gulping and scared at the sight of his bare torso. It makes him want to laugh in your face. This is the most innocent thing you will be seeing once he is done with you.
When you walk through the door, you are so focused on taking in what his home looks like that you scream when he shoves you up against the wall. You are panicking, hips squirming against his cock just right, making him harder than he already was. He is about to punch a hole into his fucking pants when his hands hold your wrists above your head. You are whimpering, stuttering variations of his name as he holds you there. His head falls into the crook of your neck, sucking and biting into the skin so hard it bruises. He can feel how fast your pulse is under his lips, and he licks at it.
He is whispering horrible, dirty things into your skin. Sounding like an absolute lunatic as he murmurs how pretty you look so scared and glassy eyed. Rambles about how he has fantasized about the scared look on your face as he pushes his cock into your weeping cunt. How he cannot wait to make you cry as you try to get away from him. He is an absolute predator and he is dead set on making you his prey. And even though you are so terrified, even though you can feel your body shaking and something instinctual in your head telling you to run away, you cannot help the slick liquid spilling into your panties. You cannot help the way your body arches into his and how you whisper his name with something bordering on a plea.
You spoil him with those noises. His free hand moves to your shorts, a sinister smile as you freeze up. That fight returns as it becomes more real, your hands trying to claw at his in an attempt to free yourself of his hold. It just makes him press up against you harder, causing you to whimper. You are fighting two battles: him and your own body. As his hand slips under the band of your shorts, caressing the wetness that is collected in your panties, you are more and more confident in the fact that you are losing to both. His fingers are cold, sending shivers over your body. When his fingers push your panties to the side and plunge into your dripping hole, you know you are a goner.
You scream at the intrusion, body completely unprepared to be taking his fingers so quickly. He plunges them in and out of you rapidly, and you can feel how his hand pulls your panties down with the movement. His hand leaves your wrists, and your hands fall onto his arm as you continue to cry out. His hand comes down to rip off your shorts and panties, leaving them as a pile around your ankles. Your nails are digging into his skin, trying to stabilize yourself as his fingers hit against your walls. You can feel his blunt nails against the gummy areas inside of you as he curls his fingers. It stings slightly, causing you to whimper and uselessly push him away. It only makes him speed up.
You scream again, getting cut off when a sharp slap lands on your cheek. You gasp, head whipping to the side before one of his hands wraps around your neck. You panic again, hand leaving his arm to claw at his hand. He whispers darkly into your ear to shut up, that you'll scare the neighbors and he’ll have to tape your mouth shut. You are so focused on his words and his touch that it takes you a minute to realize he is not really pressing down. He is definitely applying pressure, but just enough so you know his hand is there and he can make it tighter around your neck. When the fear dies away you can feel yourself clench around his fingers, causing him to groan. You like it, you realize, and you whimper up at him.
He chuckles into your skin, fingers still moving at that relentless pace as your pussy sings out wet noises for him. Your walls keep fluttering around him, and you let out a sob. He tears his eyes away, watching the way water begins to build and flow from your eyes as the pleasure becomes too much. He gives a few more punishing pumps until you are clenching hard around him. He hisses at the tightness, paying back the favor by choking you harder. Your mind is lost in between panic and pleasure as it tries to process your ongoing orgasm and the fact air isn’t reaching your lungs. You are letting out dry moans, eyes darting around his face as your hands weakly claw at his hand. Your head is just beginning to feel fuzzy when he lets go, a few seconds after you stop coming around his fingers.
He pulls away from you entirely, hand leaving your throat and abused cunt. He takes a step away from you and you crumble on the floor pathetically as you try to catch your breath. Your wet, doe eyes look up at him from the floor, whimpering when you can still feel your cum dripping down your thighs and leaving drops on his floor. Your hand, your entire body, is shaking as you reach for your throat. You hold the skin gently, rubbing at it to get rid of the ache and feel of his hand around it. You almost flinch back when he bends down in front of you. He looks at you with an amused look, before it becomes bored. His hand comes up near your face, and you try to press yourself against the wall. You think he is about to slap you again, but instead he wipes his cum covered fingers against your cheek. You flinch from the feel of it, it's sticky and warm and it reminds you of what you just did.
He cherishes the wide-eyed look you give him as your chest moves up and down with your breaths. He hums as he stares. Pretty, so so pretty. He gets up, hand ruffling your hair like a dog. Your eyes track him, watching as he picks up your shorts and underwear. His fingers take your panties and shoving them into his pocket. He throws the shorts to you, vaguely telling you where the bathroom is so you can clean up the mess you made. In a dismissive tone, he tells you to hurry up and meet him in the living room to study.
You watch him go, looking like a broken fairy as another rush of involuntary arousal drips to the floor.
Part 2
I think this is the darkest thing I’ve written?? Is this considered dark? It’s definitely not nice.
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