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0-n-1-x · 1 month

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Hey hey hey! I just read your Damian x photographer reader post (love btw) and instantly became infatuated with the idea of Reader who takes pictures of Gotham vigilantes for the news. Kinda like Peter Parker taking pictures of Spider-Man? (Not a 1 to 1 comparison but you get where it coming from) Basically they’re close with Damian but they don’t know Damian’s Robin. Cue secret identity shenanigans!

Damian Wayne x Hero Photographer!reader

link to my masterlist <33

As a talented photographer, you’ve made a name for yourself by capturing the best shots of Gotham’s vigilantes in action. Your photos of Batman, Robin, and the rest of the Bat-Family often end up on the front pages of Gotham’s newspapers, earning you both praise and a bit of notoriety in the city’s media circles. You and Damian have been friends for a while, bonding over your shared love of art and your similar work ethics. He admires your dedication to photography, though he’s secretly amused by the fact that you’re unknowingly photographing him in his Robin persona.

You and Damian have been friends for a while, bonding over your shared love of art and your similar work ethics. He admires your dedication to photography, though he’s secretly amused by the fact that you’re unknowingly photographing him in his Robin persona. Despite being so close to Damian, you have no idea that he’s actually Robin. He’s careful to keep his vigilante life separate from your friendship, though he occasionally drops hints that go right over your head.

There have been multiple instances where you’ve almost caught Damian in his Robin gear. Whether it’s seeing a flash of green and red out of the corner of your eye or noticing how familiar Robin’s fighting style seems, you start to get the feeling that there’s something more to Damian than meets the eye.

One day, you capture an exceptionally clear photo of Robin, and you can’t help but notice something oddly familiar about his eyes. You brush it off at first, but the thought nags at you. Damian, of course, is aware that you took the photo and goes out of his way to ensure you don’t connect the dots.

Whenever you talk to Damian about your latest photos, he can’t help but tease you a little. He’ll ask about your “favorite vigilante” or make subtle comments that hint at his dual identity. You laugh it off, thinking he’s just poking fun at your obsession with Gotham’s heroes. (i like to think that your favorite wouldn't be him, and he'd be slightly offended and try to explain why he's robin's better than his brothers other vigilantes)

There are times when Damian has to abruptly leave your hangouts to attend to Robin duties. He always comes up with an excuse—whether it’s a sudden family emergency or needing to take care of something important. You find it a bit odd but don’t press him on it, chalking it up to Damian’s sometimes mysterious nature.

One night, while you’re out trying to get some action shots of the infamous Gotham Vigilante Group, you get caught in the middle of a dangerous situation.

As you leaned over the ledge to get a better angle, you suddenly heard the sound of gunfire echoing through the alleyways. Your heart leapt into your throat, but you didn’t move, focusing your lens instead. Sure enough, you spotted Batman and Robin making their move on a group of heavily armed thugs. You quickly snapped a few shots, your heart racing with the thrill of the moment.

But then, something went wrong. One of the thugs spotted you—your lens reflecting just enough light to catch his attention. Without thinking, he pointed his gun upwards and fired.

The bullet whizzed past your head, shattering the brick near where you crouched. Panic surged through you as you scrambled back, nearly dropping your camera. Before you could react, you saw a flash of red and green—Robin was suddenly there, pulling you out of harm’s way.

He shielded you with his body, guiding you towards a safer spot on the rooftop. His gloved hand was firm but gentle as he held onto your arm, his other hand reaching for a grappling hook.

“Stay close to me,” he ordered, his voice low and urgent.

You barely had time to process what was happening before Robin swung the two of you off the rooftop, carrying you safely to a nearby building. Your heart pounded in your chest, both from the fear of what just happened and from the adrenaline of being in such close proximity to the vigilante.

When your feet finally touched solid ground, you stumbled slightly, still reeling from the close call. Robin’s arm was still around your waist, steadying you, and you couldn’t help but notice how strong and warm he felt, even through his suit.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice softer now, tinged with concern.

You nodded, but your mind was spinning. There was something about his voice, the way he held you—something that felt so familiar.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you managed to reply, your breath hitching slightly as you looked up at him. Your eyes locked with his, and suddenly, everything clicked into place. The green mask, the intense gaze, the way he said your name earlier—it was Damian. It had to be.

“Damian?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Robin stiffened, his grip on you tightening for a split second before he quickly let go, stepping back. His expression was hidden behind the mask, but you could see the conflict in his eyes. He hesitated, clearly torn between continuing the charade and telling you the truth.

“I—” he started, but the words seemed to stick in his throat.

“Damian, it’s you, isn’t it?” you pressed, your voice trembling slightly. “You’re Robin.”

#dc x you #damian wayne fluff #damian wayne headcannons #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne headcanon #damian wayne x female reader #damian wayne x male reader #damian wayne x gender neutral reader

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fandomnerd9602 · 7 months

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Scarlet Webs

Wanda Maximoff x Spider-Man!Reader

For @tokufighter

She thought it was the end. Wanda Maximoff was supposed to die on that mountain along with the Scarlet Witch. And yet the next thing that Wanda remembers was falling.

Falling in the open air towards a series of buildings. Was it New York? How did this happen?!

Wanda found herself falling towards the ground faster and faster, her magic rendered useless. And then came a blur of red and blue, zipping into her view.

Suddenly the ground stopped growing near, "don't worry ma'am I got you" you reassured her before landing on top of the Empire State Building.

"You good?" you tried to ask her, calmly reassuring this mysterious and beautiful woman before you.

"Peter? You're here?" Wanda asked you.

"Sorry?" you asked back a little confused. "Who's Peter?"

"Peter Parker? Oh come on" Wanda rolled her eyes at you, "I know you, Spider-Man"

You removed your mask, exposing your face. Wanda gasped, "You're not Peter Parker"

"Sorry. I'm (Y/N), (Y/N) (L/N)" you gave a smile to her. Your smile, something about it seemed familiar.

And then it hit her like a ton of bricks. It was the same smile that haunted her dreams. The smile that graced the faces of her twin boys.

"I've never see someone like you before" you spoke, interrupting her thoughts.

"Ever hear of the Avengers?" she asked you, a small blush making its way across her face.

"Yeah. I'm a proud member" you smiled back.

Could this be it? Could you of all people be the key to the life she had with her boys?

"Since you're not from around here" you gave a nervous shrug, "maybe I could show you around."

You held out your hand to her, a simple little invite but one that held so much more with it. Wanda couldn't help but smile and take your hand.

"I'd like that" she whispered back.

She could see herself already falling in love with you.

#marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fluff #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda my beloved #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlet witch #scarlet witch imagine #multiverse of madness #doctor strange in the multiverse of madness #spider man #spider man reader #male reader #x male reader #wanda maximoff x male reader

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honestsycrets · 1 year

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enfócate | tutor!miguel o'hara x reader

❛ pairing | tutor!miguel x student!reader, fake boyfriend!peter x reader

❛ type | explicit

❛ summary | jess is clear: miguel o'hara is a terrible boyfriend. he'll inevitably hurt you-- but peter has other ideas. or, you blow miguel in a library.

❛ tags | spanish tutor!miguel, bratty reader, a kiss with Peter, Miguel's jealousy, bjs, fake boyfriend!peter, slight obsessive qualities, fuck buddies, undefined relationships, fuck boy Miguel.

❛ reqs fulfilled | see here.

❛ sy's notes | the pov on this piece bothers me, it jumps between reader and Miguel. however, i did write two separate pieces for this request (a combined 25 pages vs my usual 11/12). so, i decided to meld them together to create this piece. anywho, if it bothers you, i understand! ❤️ I yoinked a lot of the Spanish from my Spanish learners textbook, hopefully, it's acceptable.

He knew he wanted you from the first day he saw you in the tea cafe.

Jess and he rarely visited the tea shop. It was settled on the edge of campus. Close to the social sciences and arts, but far from the work he did in the Genetics department. As a Ph.D. student, however, not all the work was done in the lab. Jess liked to see the different types of people that came to this tea cafe, where the chair cushions were fluffy emerald pillows and plants hovered overhead.

“Miguel? What's---”

You stood apart from the other students with their sloppy, half-cropped, or frumpy appearances, there was a particular care you took to dressing. It was the embroidered bow in your hair that drew his attention. When you left to fetch a refill of chai, he noticed the soft, frilled socks in tiny ankle boots. He just knew you would taste sweet, leering as he watched you at the drink bar. Jess glanced in your direction, the way you adorably bowed your head after the tea artist gave you your drink, and just knew. Jess looked over her shoulder.

“Not her.”

Jess’s voice was a drawn-out sigh of your name, punctuated by her fist beating the table. Miguel perked at the mention of your name. Oh, so she knew you. She was probably sick of his shit. Good, he was also sick of being used as a vibe check for the lesbians she wanted to pick up.

“Don’t you have enough side pieces?”

Miguel didn’t respond.

“She probably has a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. Look who she's with.”

That finally got a response.

“You don’t know that,” he kept his eyes straight ahead. You caught him staring, wiggling your little fingers in a hello as you sat at a table. "I want her."

You sat with an incredibly frumpy, annoying photography student who once took his picture for the lab website. Could he be… his attention wavered when you pulled out a book: Español para el siglo. His lips quivered into a wildly sardonic grin. Oh no, no no. It was too easy.

“You’ll ruin her. She’s too innocent.”

He leaned in.

“Are you going to help me or not?”

“Buenas tardes,”

Two chairs and a thin desk. The small study room was more of a glorified broom closet for its students. You were lucky that there was a large window that looked out over the student union, flowers blooming up its brick siding. Bits of lush dark green ivy poked into the window’s view from the library’s tall wall. As the sun set on campus, rich orange and pink settled over the sunset on that warm Friday afternoon. At least the sight was pretty for how overwhelmingly small the space was.

It wasn’t the space that bothered you. It was your tutor.

He was big-- big big. Not just a little big, but really big. The kind of big that was on bodybuilding competitions. It made his long, blue-grey muscle shirt and grey sweats look tiny, sucked to his well-pumped muscle. The room felt a lot smaller as you looked at him, his long brown hair whipped back over his neck. His eyebrows raised on his dark forehead, arms turning one over another, a bundle of muscle.

“Ah... you're him? The man from the tea shop.”

He pulled free his sunglasses and set them down. His warm chocolate eyes glanced from the edge of your now too-short skirt to the glint of a dagger necklace that beat between your breasts. He’s staring. Why is he staring-- you finger the dagger between your thumb and index fingers, soothing yourself with the manipulation.

“Miguel.” He warmed, pulling the seat out beside him. His voice was buttery and smooth, almost like rich caramel. The lilt in his voice lightened, inviting you to take a seat by him. You should. You thought. Sit down. “Siéntate."

You stared.

"I said sit down.”

That was a bad idea. You paused, slipping the bag down from under your shoulder and onto the beige tile by the door. Miguel watched every slight movement. That’s fine. It’s natural to do that. You tugged the bottom of your skirt and took a seat beside him. Miguel pushed the chair back in, pushing your chest to the edge of the desk space. Oh-- oh boy, he was strong. Of course, he was, he was built like a--

“Bueno. Now you're settled. How can I help you?”

Do that again.

“Me? Oh! I... Jess said you could help me need to pass a test,” you murmured. The four semesters of Spanish seemed relatively easy compared to being stuffed next to this Adonis in this tiny study room. Your legs settled over your skirt, hands working over one another to will down the pulse of your wily excitement. What was wrong with you? “To pass my language requirement.”

You should have been able to do that alone but-- let’s say you weren’t the most applied to the language in your childhood. A tutor was a great alternative to embarrassment and thousands of dollars in classes. If only he didn’t look like… this. His large hand left the pasty back of your chair.

“Hm,” he paused. “¿Puedes hablar español?”

“Sí,” you murmured. “My mami was-- well, I should have listened to her.”

Hm.

You want to know what Hm means. Your leg tremored on its own accord. He swept a leather bag by his side up and pulled out a thick folder, running across several tabs. Lab notes, diet plans, pruebas.

“It happens,” he notes, sliding a page free. “Let’s see how much you know, princesa.”

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to know more, to hear the hum of Spanish bouncing off his lips. It was a world apart from your mother’s shrill screams on Saturday mornings to clean an already clean house. It held its own beauty and mystery when he spoke it. You took the page from him, setting it down on the bland tablespace by your phone, lighting up with a notification.

Jess When you meet Miguel, don’t do it.

"¿Princesa?" you asked.

"You dress like one. Don’t worry if you fail,” you plucked out a pink mechanical pencil, complete with little animated characters tightened around the wrapping. You perked at his words, choking a small smile. “I expect you to.”

Why was he like this? You took another unfortunate look at him, his large forearm plastered over the desk, making the book he had to look like peanuts in comparison. God, he was hot-- you felt comparatively hideous, drooling over a man that was out of your league. Maybe he could be your piece of eye candy this year. Your phone buzzed along the table again. Miguel’s eyes shot to it, a frown pulling at his lips.

Jess Don’t fuck him. He can’t keep his dick to himself.

He reaches over, flipping your phone down with an overworked smile sundering his expression. It’s almost fake.

“Are you…” you turned your eyes to the questions on the page. “A student?”

“Grad student,” Miguel answered. So, older than you then. “I graduated with a BA in Spanish and a BS in Genetics.”

“Oh! A dual degree?” The man couldn’t be normal. He had to do both. “Did it… take a while?”

“No, it was accelerated.”

He was unreal. There was no way this man was ordinary. It was physically impossible for the man to be that hot and successful. You scribbled across the page, nipping the back of your pencil at particularly hard questions.

“So you just do this for… a living?” you asked him.

“I teach and train clients, yes.”

“Train?”

“Gym,” Miguel set his cheek on his fist.

“I do cardio with Jess. No strength training for me.” Jess-- who suggested Miguel to you. You had some shit to bitch at her about the next time you saw her. Namely, why she didn’t warn you about Miguel. He was a boon for chaos in your life.

“I’d waste your time. I’m all marshmallow,” you pat your soft belly. “All pan dulce and burros.”

He chuckled.

“You have a beautiful body.”

And that was that. You set the pencil down on a page half full of answers, glancing toward his full lips. They were quirked into an arrogant smirk. He knew the effect he had on women. He glanced to the page, then to you, his lips growing into a smile laden with arrogance.

“Your hips--” he glanced down, “My girls couldn’t pay to get them.”

He noticed. You supposed that the miniskirt wasn’t the best choice for meeting a new man.

“Do you talk to everyone like this?”

“No. Only the ones that look at me like you did."

Oh.

If it were a game of whom ate whom up first, you had to be honest-- it may have been you. You couldn’t shoot anything back at that, angling your head down at the page guiltily. A sigh fell from his chest. His large hand came to the back of your head, cupping the thick bow on the back of your head. His fingers ran across the silk, teasing it between his fingers.

“Calm down, you’re not the first one to do it. You won't be the last,” he turned your head to look at him, large fingers combing through the strands of your hair. He chased the panic in your wide eyes, doe eyes blown wide. Your heartbeat soared into your chest, choking you there, looking for an outlet from your shame.

“Breathe for me,” he leaned in, his warm breath tingling your ear. His cologne was clean, like the lapse of the waves on the shore back home where the tropical heat was a second skin. You listened, taking a weary, deep breath in, then out again. Again.

“Go on.” His knuckles rapped on the sheet. Miguel’s hand fell away. You found yourself longing for it again.

“He’s gorgeous.”

“I told you not to fuck him," your superior, Jess said, her feet bouncing off the stairstepper effortlessly.

“I didn't-- I just, he called me beautiful.”

“He would call anyone beautiful if it meant fucking them. Don’t fall for it.”

You knew Jess wouldn’t say it unless she were serious. She always knew what you needed help with, where to locate a good solution, and had the right words to calm you down.

“How?” you said, louder than you intended. You were suddenly thankful for the pounding music that beat down on your ears in your school’s gym and the rush of people that came and went. “Jess, you’re a lesbian. You don’t understand-- he’s thick. Like, he’s luchador status big. Big, big.”

“I’ve dated some thick women.”

“And he likes me,” you said pointedly, rushing to the topmost step, remembering his words. The way he calmed you down from your embarrassment, seeming without concern for his own body. It was… sweet. “Men usually don’t like me, Jess. I’m too… soft.”

“Okay, girl, whatever,” you were pretty sure she rolled her eyes. “Unless you’re going to be another one of his fuck toys, just ignore him.”

“How?”

Her stare trained on the floors lapsed. Thirty and she was still going. “If you don’t want him, just fire him. What’s going to do? Come find you?”

You stopped for the entirety of five… or ten seconds. Enough to consider her words. Enough to quite literally get plop off the stair stepper and onto the cold floor. Jess exhaled a stale breath, reaching over to jam the STOP button on your machine. Ow.

“Good job.”

Miguel likes to tutor you. Not because you’re good at Spanish, no, for a girl that grew up with a Spanish mother, your skills are quite poor. But he likes the opportunity to have you in a room all by yourself, late at night. Wednesdays are great days for that.

Your soft buttercup yellow dress is short today, exposing your thick thighs that take up so much of the chair. He pretends that he’s listening as you go over a list of irregular verbs, your lip pouting in response to the irregular verbs. Some were simple in their familiarity like poder with endings such as pudiste; but the plurals and other irregular verbs, you pouted at. It was cute.

“Miggy, it’s not funny, ” Oh, nicknames now. Miguel throws a glance at your glossy lips, undoubtedly sticky but oh so soft looking.

“I never said it was.”

“You’re smirking.”

“Then don’t whine,” he said. “It’s cute.”

“Oh--” As to be expected, you shifted your hands between your legs, drawing your skirt in between your legs. He faltered and took a glance, coasting his eye over its edges and memorizing the way it fell over your skin. You’ll ruin her, he remembers Jess saying. She wasn’t wrong, he sensed the bit of it now, how close you sat--

“Take a break, princesa. Vocabulary-- ascendencia.”

Rather than take a break, you turned and caught the corner of his lips in what was a terrible, cherry-red kiss that would stain his skin. But the connection of your lips, puckered in a pouting kiss on his skin, caught him off guard.

“Descent,” you took his red pen out of his loose grip, scribbling descent by the word. Fuck. Miguel took a sip of now cold coffee. A smile kept pulling at his cheeks, looking out of the window and catching the slight reflection of your lipstick smeared across his lip and cheek, he bobs his head into a nod.

“Correcto.”

You’re with Peter the first time you see Miguel with another woman.

It’s at lunch. Tuesdays and Thursdays are regularly spent running to the College of Arts, waiting for Peter to get out, and a picnic. Today, you forgot to bring lunch, running off to the union hand wrapped around his elbow as he talked to you about a bright new camera lens filter.

“These new pictures are going to come out perfect! Thanks for lending me the money,” he beamed. You loved the way he talked about his art-- stopping to show you his newest pictures of the camera that hung around his neck. Peter was always good with a camera, catching you in all the prettiest angles in your trade of photos for… sponsoring a lens or whatever. Or, at least, bringing down the cost. “Look at this one. Look how pretty you look in that dress, kinda like a pin-up! We should do some’a those next.”

Feet thumping over the pavement, you failed to sense Miguel's presence until you smelled his peppery cologne carried on the air. There, on a bench, he sat next to a girl. She was pretty, with long dark hair and soft skin. Her hand was on his thigh and his arm around her shoulder, eating the last bit of a flaky empanada-- your eyes burned, the closeness of her head on his shoulder, clearly done and finished, waiting for whatever next plan he had. You don’t want to know what that could be.

“Huh? Oh. hi Miguel!” Peter waved to your dismay. You held onto him a little tighter, wringing circles around his sleeve. Miguel spares you two a glance, his eyebrows pushing together. But he waves, lazy and short. You stifle the hot prick of tears at the corner of your eyes and yank Peter away. “Wha-- I’m coming, I’m coming!"

Days later, Peter has a plan.

“I’ve got it-- the solution to your tea guy problem! You should have told me sooner that it was Miguel.”

Peter was very excited. Why, you weren’t sure. He liked to feel helpful. That’s why he was a photographer. Photography lets others feel beautiful and seen. He picked at your lunch, his head flopped on your thigh as he worked through his camera.

“I’ll be your boyfriend!”

“You want to be my boyfriend?” you offered him a grape. He opened his mouth with an adorable ‘ah’ of his his lips. You slipped the grape between his lips. He chewed appreciatively. “I don’t know, Peter. Isn’t it lying?”

“C’mon, I know Miguel. He’s macho. The kind of guy you have to make jealous. And I can do it! I’m boyfriend material. Aren’t I?”

“Sí. But I don’t think I can make him jealous.”

It was a sunshiney day, sprawled out at lunch on a cool picnic blanket, tracing the clouds when you heard his voice. Soft, smooth, inviting. Your head spun around, this time with a lean blonde-haired girl-- her legs were long, tummy nice and flat, blue eyes shining like little sapphires set in her pale face. She swooned on his arm. The perfect sorority princess. What if he called her princesa, too?

“--close lab with me--”

“I can do it myself.”

Miguel’s eyes caught yours, raising his hand lazily to greet you as he walked down the sidewalk, undoubtedly back to his genetics lab on the other side of campus. Over where brilliant boys and girls and theys were, rushing through accelerated scientific programs while you figured out how to fix broken artifacts. He lived in another impossible world. A realm far away from Peter and you: photography and the maintenance of culture and art.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Peter's eyes were glossy with concern. “It’s okay. We don’t have to-- did I say something wrong?”

You shook your head. Peter sat up, his eyes bounced up-- from Miguel over his shoulder to your sudden sad eyes. Peter set his hand on your cheek, the fibers of his soft pink cardigan tickling your jaw. Your eyes tore from Miguel, whose pace became sluggish as if steps along took immense effort. Peter’s nose bumped against yours, clumsy and oh so Peterish-- his hand on the middle of your back, his warm but cracked lips swallowing the gasp that tumbled from your lips. He tasted of sweet fruit, the sloppy lunch you shared, and a silly comfort.

He watching? Peter murmured against your lips.

You nearly forgot to return the kiss, captured in the way Miguel stared-- something in his warm brown eyes was almost wounded. Peter shoved you onto the picnic blanket, a soft sorry murmured under his breath as his thin frame fell between your legs. Miguel stomped away, his bumbling blonde rushing to keep up.

“Oh yeah,” Peter rolled over onto his back, crossing his legs one over another. You watched Miguel stomp past the tall hedges, out of your line of sight. “He’s gonna be mad at you.”

“Peter!”

Miguel was still in a bad mood hours later.

“¡Qué surpresa!” he murmured, offering you your paper blotted with red circles. “You did remarkably shit on this test. Do you focus on anything? Or just Peter?”

“Perdona me.” Your focus was shot with his consistent presence in your life. Not that he could appreciate that.

“How long are you going to keep wasting my time?”

“Are you talking about the Spanish or--”

Miguel set the red pen down, a sharp slam snapping the pen under his force. The fragile plastic snapped into shards of plastic. He flicked it away, paper and pen both, his large hand flexing in and out of a closed fist. You traced the tracks of his veins along his forearm.

“Are you mad that I kissed you?”

“Stop.”

“Or are you angry that Peter did?”

“Don’t touch me.”

Though he said that, you didn’t listen. You slid out of the chair and in between his spread legs, your hands trailing his handsome jawline. He jerked back when your lips caught his, the legs of his chair hitting the wall. Though he said no, his mouth opened to your kiss, and his palms flushed against your soft cheeks. You pinned him between your body and the wall-- and though you were sure he’d quickly whirl you off if he really wanted to, he didn’t. His tongue pushed into your mouth, owning yours. His hands skimmed your back, trailing lower and lower down your deep red dress until he connected with your ass.

“You need to stop.” Miguel broke from his kiss. Though he said that, he brought you onto his lap. You felt little in his large arms, his hands guiding your hips over his crotch. “Before I do something you’ll regret.”

You listened to the sounds of the library’s floor. The scrunch of take out into the trash, the sing of a door opening and closing. It was dinner time. Most everyone had gone to get their snacks— and here you were, looking down at Miguel with rapt eyes.

“Peter is just a friend.”

“A friend who happens to jam his tongue down your throat,” he turned the word over on his tongue and found offense in it. “Now why do I doubt that?”

“He only wanted to help.”

“By kissing you?”

Your fingers trailed his jaw, dipping back down for another kiss if only to say you could. That Miguel couldn’t tell you what to do. A sound of frustration ripped up his throat. You felt him, his dick twitching to life behind those sweatpants. He felt big. You bit your lower lip— a movement that didn’t escape his attentive eyes.

“By making you as jealous,” You slid off his lap and onto the dirty floor. But as you lifted a hand, cupping his dick through the heavy fabric, he couldn’t bear to stop you.

His lips pulled in a wicked grin, your soft palm stroking along his length. He hooked his thumbs into his sweats, yanking them down over his knees and onto the floor. His cock kissed his belly, straining with droplets of moisture at the tip. Miguel set his hand on your shoulder and forced you to heel on the floor. His temperament evened out. “You were jealous.”

“Yes--” you murmured. “Are.. those girls, are they special?”

“Special? No, none of them are.”

“I want to be.”

“That so?” Your soft hands trailed along the dark hair on his calves, up his thighs, settling your nose where his muscular hand tightened around the root. He wrenched his swarthy hand along his length, drawing along his veiny cock shamelessly. "Let's see how much you do, princesa."

“Please.”

“Aquí se habla español.” Miguel teased. Your fingers dipped down, small tickles of your fingertips as his heavy balls. He watched you massage them with half-lidded eyes, his lips pursing in a pleased hum.

“Por favor.”

“Abre,” you did, sliding your soft mouth open, a well of saliva on your tongue. Miguel slid himself into your warm mouth, a ruptured groan fizzing in his chest. You didn’t want to be too loud— someone might look into the small window on the door, and see you on your knees between Miguel’s thick legs, sucking his cock down when you should be going over that test you just failed.

You caught the salty beads at Miguel’s top on your tongue, sliding sloppily around his thick head, and lapping at his slit for more. Your soft hands stroked along his length, clumsy and shy. He hummed in approval, a sound you were more than thankful to elicit. Miguel took a fist full of your hair and drove himself into your mouth, your tongue stroking the underside of his length.

“Pero mira esto,” Miguel wrenched his head in your hair, grabbing handfuls of it in his palm. “You can focus on something. Sucking my dick.”

Even if you wanted to look up, Miguel drove your head down onto his dick, the dark, trimmed tuft of his pubic hair tickling your nose. He drew his hips back. You nearly pulled off him, if not for his hand assuring that you wouldn’t move off of it. Drool coursed down from your lips, soaking your chin and neck, connecting to his cock as if it were a spiderweb. Your cheeks flushed with blood— you must have looked a mess.

“Coño," Miguel tutted with his tongue, grasping his phone. Your lips pursed around his tip, eyes flickering up to catch the lens of his phone camera on your ruined face. A picture or a video, you weren’t entirely sure. Only that it sent thumps of pleasure down your core to know he wanted to record it, keep it close. You suckled along his sensitive head, working his moans free. He set his phone aside.

Miguel stood and dragged your head along with him to pin you between the ledge of the desk space and his wonderful hips. His hands slipped behind your head, keeping you still and steady, driving himself deep into your mouth. Past your tongue, down your throat, it felt like he hit parts of you that you could only dream of. You struggled with his size, choking the urge to swallow him when he forced you to hold him there. As if your throat was just a hole for his pleasure. Your sad attempt to suckle him down was tempered by the rocking of his hips, his needy face fucking. Your eyes screwed shut, bits of color dancing behind your eyes, the easiest way to deal with this was to focus— on the way he tasted, the scent of his fresh body wash, the light judder of his hips as he came close.

"Hah-- ay, qué rico," his nails scraped the back of your neck, sloppy and undefined thrusts filling your throat. He spurts thick ropes of his cum down your throat and mouth, withdrawing to jerk the last bursts of his cum over your lips. Miguel’s breath fell from his lips in heavy gulps, meeting yours down on your aching knees. Strings of coughed-up cum connected your sodden lips to his cock, globs of his seed slipping between your breasts. You ached.

“Tate quieta.”

You don’t know where you’d go, your palms catching yourself on the floor. He snapped another photo, humming appreciatively. Miguel reached into his gym bag, pulling a sweaty shirt free. Your fingers dipped into his warm cum that spattered across your warm chest, drawing it to your lips. He tasted salty, tangy, and just right.

"You look so-- so beautiful, princesa, just perfect," Miguel bent down, wiping the rest of his mess from your chest and face, gently stroking away all evidence of your face fucking before cleaning his cock and tucking himself away into his sweatpants. He chucked the t-shirt back into his bag, glazing his eyes over your hazy, exhausted eyes. He crouched down.

“Rule one, I never share my women,” he settled his knuckle under your chin, urging you to look him in the eyes. Something told him you wouldn't be as easy as the others, but for some reason, he shrugged the thought aside. “As long as I'm fucking you, you date no one but me. If I find out you are, we're done. Am I clear?”

He was a walking red flag. But for once, in your good girl life, you wanted that. You wanted to fuck in the library-- against the genetics building late at night-- to kiss him during a sunny picnic. More than you wanted a lot of things. His eyes went soft with your answer.

“Claro que sí, Miggy.”

He loves it when he gets what he wants.

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara/reader #atsv imagines #atsv imagine #atsv miguel imagine #atsv x reader #atsv x you #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman smut #spider 2099 x reader #spiderman imagine #spiderman imagines

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evvyyypeters-fics · 17 days

Text

LoveBug

Peter Maximoff x infected!f!reader

Warnings! Pure smut, porn w/ basically no plot, vague sex virus stuff, needy reader, p n v, rough sex, dorky Peter

Literally wrote this in 5 minutes. Been having major Peter brainrot recently and I love super horny crazed reader

“Peter…puhlease..” You whined desperately, swaying your hips tauntingly at him, back arched deep into the bed. You eye him from his stance at his Pac-Man machine, now distracted by your erotic behavior.

“What’s gotten into you today?” He chuckles softly, a hidden amused smirk creeps on his face as he reluctantly walks away and over to you, still mewling against his sheets like a cat in heat.

“Need y’u sho’ bah’…” Your words slurred, your mouth felt numb, slow with words and too filled with lust in your overdriven horny brain to process speaking any coherent sentence.

A red tint instantly begins to creep on his face and he shyly plants himself behind you, massaging your hips testingly with his hands.

“What do you need, baby?” He asks, swallowing thickly as he peers close to your face.

“Need y’oh…need y’uh in me sho’ ba’h” The words sinking into the thick sheets below, hips still swaying. Peter stares into your lust-blown eyes. He knows something else is going on, but he doesn’t bother to ask any further, he knows you would hate it if he did with the predicament you were in.

He frees himself from his pajama pants, then boxers and grabs your hips in a tighter grip, pulling away your panties and positioning himself before sinking into your drenched cunt. Arousal having leaked down your thighs, the sight almost making him shiver.

An unexpected moan slips past your lips and Peter groans as you flutter harder and tighter around him than you usually do, causing him to desperately rut into you. He presses you further into the bed, grabbing the elbows of your arms desperately clinging to the sheets and pulling them back to fuck you into oblivion. Pulling strings of thick, erotic moans to spill from your lips shamelessly. The hot coil in your abdomen winds tighter and tighter, becoming unbearable as your eyes roll back. Orgasm washes over you, but Peter doesn’t stop. Determined to reach his high, he overstimulates you just enough to scratch away that itch only a little, bucking deep against your cervix before releasing a hot load. A loud groan escapes his lips and he falters back. He starts to pull away, but the itching inside of you unsatisfied, you grip his wrist. Pleading eyes boring into him.

“M-more’h..plesuh..” You whimper, thighs trembling with anticipation and a lingering orgasm. Peter is shocked by your needy behavior, but nods and obliges. Shoving himself slowly into you again, his pillowy tip pressing against your cervix, building a crescendo of speed before completely pounding you back into the mattress again. Your final orgasm hits like a brick and your whole body shivers, shaking in his grip as he spills over with you. Filling you more than you’ve ever been with his warm seed.

Peter, worn out, flops down beside you on the bed and places a tender kiss on your forehead. The sound of the TV having been playing in the background the whole time hits his ears.

“..outbreak of sexual virus that infects host with high libido…” Perks him up, and everything clicks. Today was going to be a long day, far from over. That he was sure of.

taglist (you can be added or removed at any time):

@fear-is-truth @xkaisxjazzxsingerx @lemoniiiiiii @jazz-berry @marchsfreakshow @colinzabelswife @dearlizzies @am3ricanh0rrorwh0re @xrag-dollx @alittleobsessedbitch

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alrtyhoney · 1 year

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VAMPIRE!

(You can't love anyone 'cause that would mean you had a heart.)

The rundown: Miguel had an image to uphold and you are in the way of him keeping up appearances.

Content: Miguel x !Reader / Angst! (wc: 2011)

Miguel had an image to uphold. He is of many things; stoic, cold-blooded, mean– some of the words you’d hear from whispers and passing spider-men. Of course he knew that, knew everything that came from everyone’s mouth. The walls talked, and by walls, it was mostly from those people that tolerated him.

“You know people would talk more nicely about you if you weren’t so..” Peter B. trailed off, trying to find a description that didn’t seem offending. Not that it ever bothered Miguel, but he wasn’t in the mood to be sent out early back to his universe.

“Stoic? Restrained?” He listed a reply, uninterested.

“Closed off.”

He wasn’t exactly expecting that. It wasn’t like the people knew him well enough to see who he was way past his shell of a tough man. He wasn’t closed off– He wasn’t heartless enough to not let people in and by people, you. Only you.

It was only you that saw through him; the only one who tried to put the bricks of the wall he had built down one by one. You were gentle– genuine. Every word that he wasn’t. You made his brain short circuit, his spine rigid, and palms sweat.

The problem was, while Miguel was all those mean words, he was also dense; unknowing, stupid, insensitive. He didn’t know how to love.

You were patient. It was satisfaction enough that Miguel had given you attention before; like you existed and wasn’t like any of the million other spider-men. You knew you weren’t imagining it when he had softened around you.

Days passed and melted into months– months into years and years into moments he couldn’t take for granted. Just how could he push you aside when you have been nothing but perfect to him? Before you knew it, he had asked you to be his and when he did, you saw nothing of what they called Miguel.

It was surprising– Miguel wasn’t as overbearing with someone. And while everyone was delighted that someone had made him less hostile, a few comments had made his stomach churn in shame. (Who knew a woman was all he needed to release tension– jeez! / I wonder how y/n could put up with someone so nonchalant. Poor her.) They probably didn’t mean harm, but it made Miguel undeniably embarrassed.

And before he knew it, he was pushing you away– slowly.

(“What ya working on, boss?” You had plopped on one of the tables from his office, legs swinging as you watched him from his platform.

“Work. Something you should be doing too.” Miguel had answered, still focused on the plenty holograms but lowering the platform nonetheless. Something you’ve learned about him was he’d never be direct– everything he’d imply was for you to figure out. It wasn’t like you didn’t expect him to be an easy man, but it was still a privilege to know the little things about him.

You jumped off from where you were sitting to join him, reading the reports from the desks that surrounded him, while stealing glances to what he worked on. It took every strength for Miguel to not soften his shoulders– jaw tightening so the smile that was threatening to seep through wouldn’t show. God, he yearned to touch you; to have you near him all the time.

Something about you made him feel normal– just him.

“Date night?” His body jolted slightly when you whispered, your warm breath fanning over his ears as you lovingly nuzzled your head against the crook of his neck. You had risen onto the tips of your toes, chest pressed against his as you waited for his response.

He chuckles, the sound deep and resonating in your chest as you draw close to him. Unable to restrict himself anymore, he turns to you. He puts his weight against the machine behind him, positioning you between his legs. His crinkled eyes and warm smile make your heart swell, and for a moment it's just the two of you: no worries or troubles. No image to uphold.

"How could I possibly turn you down, amor?" he murmurs affectionately, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. He revels in the giggle you let out and it makes him shiver with so much love.

“Oh, I don’t know,” You trailed off jokingly, drawing circles on his chest. “You seem busy.”

“Never too busy for you, you know that right?” You hummed softly in reply, leaning your body against his and letting him play with the strands of your hair.

Suddenly, Jess came into view, her gaze focused intently on the papers in her hands. It wasn't until she had realized that someone was in the room with her. "Miguel– oh, y/n, what are you doing here?" she asked in surprise.

Miguel quickly rises to his feet, coughing and shifting nervously. He turns to face away from you, “Leaving. She was just about to leave.” Miguel blurts out, tone dismissive.

You feel the heat of embarrassment and confusion spread quickly through your veins as you stand there, your heart aching. You had stared for a second or so before he finally looked back at you. “Leave. Now.”

Your eyes widened and that was the cue you needed to go. “Right– right! Was just about to leave.” You quickly scurry to leave, murmuring a soft ‘I’ll see you later.’)

You were respective of Miguel; knew of what troubled him. After that occurrence, he had pampered you– apologized a million times in between opening up. I didn’t mean it, love. He said, she caught me off guard.

You were still patient. You understood that it was never his intention to hurt you, but your mind was blaring alerts in bright red. Do you perhaps embarrass him? This wasn’t the only time it had happened– wasn’t the only time he had left you in a clueless state.

(“So, you and y/n.” Hobie had begun, tinkering with his machines and carefully extracting different parts from them.

Miguel was aware that the seemingly casual conversation was only a ruse to distract him while he continued to steal from his devices, but he indulged nonetheless. Reprimanding him wouldn’t help anyway. “What about her?” Unbeknownst to him, you were in the same place. You couldn't help but feel your eyebrows rise up to the sound of your name.

“I don’t know, you tell me, you dense bloke.” Hobie let out a huff, then plopped himself down in an office chair and began to spin it around in circles. He knew about it anyway. You would tell him about Miguel and your relationship, told him what made your heart race and what troubled you greatly.

Hobie wanted to hear it from Miguel– wanted to confirm your uncertainty.

Miguel hesitates as he ponders, eyebrows knitted together. He clicks his tongue in frustration before finally giving an answer “An associate? Coworker? I don’t know what you want from me.”

You felt a sudden weight crash down upon you— your mouth became parched and your chest seemed to constrict. It was like something was pressing hard against you, making it difficult to breathe. An unwelcome realization dawned on you as you pieced it all together.

“Ouch. You hear that, y/n? If I was you, I would’ve dumped this oaf.” But you had been gone before Miguel even got the chance to set his eyes on you and he knew he had messed up again.)

“I’m not closed off.” Miguel had muttered under his breath– a bit too defensive to his liking as he clicked away on his keyboard aggressively. Peter didn’t miss the shift on his behavior and he decided to push further.

What was with everyone and questioning about his personal life?

“You know what I mean– Jess, help me out here.”

“What he means is, it wouldn’t hurt to be less uptight.” Jessica said, “I mean, look at you and y/n. It’s not so hard to be friendly.”

Peter's eyes widened in surprise and disbelief, his furrowed eyebrows clearly expressing his disagreement. “Friendly? Look me dead in the eyes and tell me the heart eyes he’s shooting y/n is friendly.” He butted in with Mayday babbling in the carrier strapped to his chest like she was on the same page as his father.

Jess rolls her eyes, “I just don’t think Miguel’s the type to be all lovey-dovey.” She replies, both hands lifting in a gesture of surrender. “Besides, y/n is waaay out of his league.” She can already imagine it - Miguel trying his best to sweep y/n off her feet with corny pickup lines or gestures that didn’t seem like him.

They didn’t know about them; no one did. It wasn’t like they made their relationship public.

Blood rushed to his ears as they continued to banter about him, frustration brimming to the point of overflow. They continued to talk about him like he wasn’t there in front of him– like what he felt didn’t matter. He finally turns to them, expression clearly unamused.

And unbeknownst to him, you were just around the corner. You marched towards his office, chest puffed and heart pounding as you advanced. Your mind was made up, finally giving in to the voices waving red flags. It wasn’t fair– wasn’t just that you had given your heart for him to throw around. However, his voice stopped you from making your appearance known; it was firm– angry.

“The fate of the multiverse depends on me,” He started off and it takes all the strength in Peter to not roll his eyes, “I do not have time to be in a relationship– let alone be with someone as soft-hearted as y/n.”

It was like a strike to the gut and you only want the ground to swallow you whole now. Your legs threatened to buckle, begging you to leave but you couldn’t. It was wrong of you to eavesdrop, but you couldn’t help it; His words were answering every question you had in mind in the worst way possible, breaking you apart and squashing every butterfly that fluttered inside your stomach.

“Just what do you mean about that?” Peter comes to your defense, shoulders stiffened.

“I do not need someone weighing me down.”

Peter was having none of it— absolutely did not believe every word that fell from his lips. He knew it was love; the lingering stares, the small touches. He wasn’t a fool to ignore the signs, Miguel just needed a push. “But you tolerate her more than the others! You like being around her!”

“Peter, just leave it.” Jess attempts to calm the escalating tension, but her words seem to fall on deaf ears as Miguel speaks again.

“Isn’t it our job to endure? What’s another headache to tolerate?” He said before finally looking away, ready to walk out. “Now stop asking because I have enough of having her around. Don’t make me talk about her too.”

What he didn't expect was that you were already standing in his path, cheeks wet with tears and lips pressed together in a deep frown. His heart sank as he took your presence in, letting it seep like a rain of needles. The realization had hit him like a bag of bricks. You had heard their conversation– heard every single thing he said.

You quickly wiped away your tears, focusing on anything but the face of the one who caused them. You couldn’t bear to look into his eyes, not when he had you clutching your chest as you listened. It threatened to leap out, pounding against your ribs. “Yeah Peter, I think he said enough.”

“Amor,” He had whispered, walking towards you only for you to step backward in return.

You had left the scene and the shame that swallowed him was nothing compared to the embarrassment he swore was unbearable. Miguel is of many things; stoic, cold-blooded, mean. And they were right– all of it.

#alrighty honey ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚#across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara atsv #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara angst #atsv angst #across the spider verse angst

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sashaisready · 3 months

Text

This Must Be The Place: Chapter 18 - Did I find you, or you find me?

Biker!Bucky x Femme Reader

Back at your beloved late grandmother's home to pack up her house, you have a run-in with the town's biker gang 'The Howling Commandos' and find yourself entangled with the metal armed President.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: None!

Hey, I’m back 😊 Had a lovely vacation and I’m home. Forgive the short chapter…I’m just setting up the ending…

The second you got home you peeled off the dress you’d been wearing for so many hours, flinging it into the laundry basket. You plugged your dead phone into your charger before stepping straight into a scalding shower. You exhaled with relief as the hot water washed away the grubbiness, cleansing you of the night before, of Peter’s touch, of every unpleasant detail.

As you lathered up your body wash, your mind drifted to Bucky, as it had the whole journey home. You couldn’t stop thinking about him staying there out on the road all night for you. And he didn’t want a big fanfare or pat on the back for it, he just…did it.

For you.

Your head spun as you replayed it over and over. The affection in his eyes as he looked at you. They were always so blue…you were amazed you hadn’t drowned in them. Even weary and fatigued from his staggering lack of sleep, they had still sparkled in a way that made your breath hitch.

You considered his astute observation about Granny’s house and your procrastination. He was right, of course. Part of you wasn’t ready to leave this place, it was the final physical tether you had to her – giving it up was the last step in saying goodbye. Once the house was gone, so was she.

But Bucky was right. Giving up this house wasn’t giving her up…not really. This was just bricks and mortar. It wasn’t your memories of her, your photographs. This house wasn’t her wisdom, it wasn’t her smile. It had felt like she was still everywhere in here, but in truth, she was no longer here at all. We aren’t our possessions; we aren’t our stuff – even if it feels like it sometimes. We can’t take any of it with us.

She wouldn’t want you clinging to her, not allowing yourself to move on and live your life. She had given you the house for precisely the opposite reason – she wanted you to be free. She wanted to give you either the stability of a home and roots, or the financial freedom to choose what made you happy.

But not this. Not living somewhere inbetween.

Your whole life you had ambled, too frightened to make any real decisions in case you made the wrong one. You’d found jobs and homes when friends had recommended them to you, or by knowing someone who knew someone else, or by chatting with patrons at your various bar jobs. A lot of your experiences had been ‘right place, right time’ (or ‘wrong place, wrong time’) rather than you actively seeking them out. Despite your stubbornness and self-assurance, you were often unanchored in life – lost at sea.

And of course, there was the other reason you hadn’t allowed yourself to move on.

He had broken your heart, and you were so sure that his chapter in your book had ended, but here you were – still thinking of him. Nobody had ever done anything like that for you before. Nobody had ever cared so deeply, fighting to stay despite you shutting them out of your life. Normally they left at even the slightest difficulty, and in a way, that was easier. Better they show you who they really are early on, rather than you getting too deep and being unable to reach the surface when disaster inevitably struck. You were at least self-aware enough to know you often pushed people away…because better it be on your terms, right?

That was partly why what Bucky had done hurt you so badly. Your walls had started to crumble with him, but his betrayal had built them back up even higher. He had just affirmed what you had always thought of people, it made you feel foolish. Weak.

But now…

He had left you alone like you’d asked. He had shown up for you in your time of need, he had stayed for you then despite your insistence he leave. He had saved you, but with no strings or expectations attached. He had only done it for you, not for himself. He wasn’t trying to score points, or get the upper hand, he was just trying to make you happy. Make you feel safe.

And he had made you happy, once. He’d brought you a pocket of peace you hadn’t felt before. He had shown you a glimpse of life where you could truly be yourself.

Weighed down by your thoughts, you stepped out of the shower. You dried yourself off and changed in your PJs before flopping into bed. It was late morning now, but you needed the sleep desperately. You also needed some time away from your own brain.

As your head hit the pillow you were out almost instantly. You slept until the early afternoon, emerging groggily as you sat up and groaned. Annoyingly, a magic fix to all your problems somehow hadn’t materialised while you were out.

But one thing was clear. Absolutely crystal. Everything else was a mess, but this was clear and bright and unmistakable.

You needed to speak to Bucky.

You reached over and grabbed your phone from your bedside table, yanking it off the charger cable as you unlocked it. You scoffed as Peter’s name flooded the screen, a flurry of missed calls and ‘I’m sorry’ notifications. You swiped them away as if you were irritatedly swatting at a wasp. He deserved no more of your time.

There was also a stoic text from Steve wishing you well after he heard about your ‘trouble’, and one from Wanda asking how your date with Peter had been. You nearly laughed out loud at how much you had to fill her in on.

Your heart sank a little to find there was nothing from Bucky, but that was to be expected. You had asked him to leave you be, and he was respecting that.

Your finger hovered over his name in your contacts as you stumbled at this next hurdle. Would a text be better? You could tell him everything you wanted and be sure you were articulate and clear about what you wanted to say, but maybe a phone call was more sincere? Could you go halfway and record a voice note? Or was that weird? Should you ask to meet somewhere and then talk? What if he said no? What if he wanted to move on, and you would just be creating drama for him? What if he had only done all of that stuff on the road out of guilt?

You chewed on your lip as you considered your options. It had all seemed so obvious just moments before, but now you were second guessing yourself and unable to move forward. Just like always.

Just as you were internally cursing yourself and the paralysis of indecision, you were pulled from your thoughts by a noise out in the yard. It was…a banging? Was someone knocking on your door? Maybe a delivery driver…but wouldn’t they just use the doorbell like everyone else?

Frowning, you got to your feet as you headed downstairs – curiosity winning out over the embarrassment of going to the front door in an old sports t-shirt and a pair of Bucky’s boxers you had quietly been wearing as pyjama bottoms since he left them at the house however many months ago.

You opened the door and peered out, but nobody was there. Strangely, the knocking continued somewhere out of sight, so you kicked on some sneakers and trepidatiously stepped out into the front yard. What was this now, a trespasser? The last thing you needed at this moment, but the universe always seems to have fun with its timing. You should’ve brought your phone with you in case you needed to call the police.

You followed the sound around to the side of the house, yelping when you discovered the source of the banging.

Just a few feet in front of you in the yard was Bucky, kneeling, his back to you. His was kutte neatly folded in a pile by his feet on the grass. In one hand he held a hammer, in the other, a plank of wooden fence panel raised onto the once broken enclosure. Next to that was an affixed plank. And another. And another.

He was fixing the fence.

The damn fence.

“Bucky…”, you whispered, your voice croaky with sleep and surprise.

He turned, getting to his feet as he dropped the hammer to the ground, “hey”, he said softly. “I just thought you could use a hand…so you wouldn’t have it hanging over you anymore. But if I’m overstepping, just say…”

You didn’t speak. You just ran towards him.

Sorry for the cliffhanger! I’ll put you out of your misery soon I promise…

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes #this must be the place fic #biker!bucky #motorcycle club au bucky

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lousypotatoes · 4 months

Text

WIPS

"We all go a little mad sometimes. Haven't you?"

I Can't Help Falling In Love With You - Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

Put Your Head On Shoulder - Vox x Reader

A Thousand Years - Adam x Reader

Cowboy Love - Striker x Reader

Your Love Is My Drug - Blitzo x Reader

Angel Baby Brick x Reader

The Night We Met - Noah x Reader

Shameless - Alejandro Burromuerto x Reader

Golden Hour - Tenya Iida x Reader

Hopelessly Devoted To You - Izuku Midoriya x Reader

Somewhere Only We Know - Shoto Todoroki x Reader

Still Into You - Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Can't Sleep Love - Ejirou Kirishima x Reader

I Was Made For Loving You - Eddie Munson x Reader

Why Can't You Just Shut Up? - Blitzo x Reader

Dark Red - Phillip Gallagher x Reader

Girls In Bikinis - Leon Kuwata x Reader

We Fell In Love In October - Mondo Owada x Reader

Teenage Dream - Kiyotake Ishimaru x Reader

I Don't Know How To Love - Byakuya Togami x Reader

Do You Want To Die Together? - Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu x Reader

House Of Memories - Gundham Tanaka x Reader

She's Kinda Hot - Kazuichi Soda x Reader

Can't Remember To Forget You - Rantaro Amami x Reader

My Strange Addiction - Korekiyo Shinguji x Reader

Favorite Liar - Kokichi Ouma x Reader

Two Of A Kind - Kaito Momota x Reader

Time After Time - Wally Clark x Reader

Wish You Were Sober - Zach Dempsey x Reader

Till Forever Falls Apart - Killian Jones x Reader

Back To Black - Dean Winchester x Reader

I Like The Way You Kiss Me - Noah Puckerman x Reader

Lay All Your Love On Me - Joey Tribbiani x Reader

As The World Caves In - Jasper Cullen x Reader

Wicked Games - Peter Hayes x Reader

Say Yes To Heaven - Spencer Reid x Reader

Let's Fall In Love For The Night - George Weasley x Reader

Slow Dancing In The Dark - Draco Malfoy x Reader

Can't Take My Eyes Off You - Steve Harrington x Reader

I Don't Know How To Tell You This - Adrien Agreste

Just The Two Of Us - Harry Potter

Out Of My League - Ron Weasley

Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy - Chandler Bing

"I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm just gonna bash your brains in."

yes, i know there are so many, but once i get ideas, i write them down, or in this case, type them out.

I GRADUATED GUYS OMG

never thought i would get this far tbh

stay safe and drink lots of water <33

xoxo, Izzy

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erule · 11 days

Text

Twice

Pairing: Peter Parker x Fem!Stark!reader

Summary: you and Peter have been rivals for a lot of time, until one day everything changes. But it’s the same old story: you love him, he loves you, then you die and he doesn’t have the chance confess his endless love for you. Or is it?

Warnings: spoilers from Avengers: Endgame, reader is Tony’s daughter, Peter and reader are 18+ here, fluff, a lot of angst, enemies to friends to lovers, happy ending though

Word count: 2084

A/N: Hi! I just wanted to write something after a long time. Hope you like it. Let me know what you think in the comments, if you want 

Taglist: @imawhoreforyou, @blankspaceblankday, @sarahcameronswife, @belovedholland.

Main Materlist: here.

Twice.

I believe that things in life happen twice, like getting a job offer or falling in love. For instance, I fell in love twice. The first one was in high school, with my classmate, but he didn’t want me. The second one was with Peter, but he didn’t want me either. I guess that some things never change. Sometimes, if you’re very lucky, things can also happen thrice, but it’s rare that some trains pass in front of you. This kind of fortune never really occurred to me, that’s why I still think that things in life happen twice. When you don’t understand the occasion, it comes along again for you to see it and finally take it. Maybe that’s why I died twice.

But let’s go back to the beginning, shall we?

Did it never happen to you to die in a metaphorical way? Like when you feel a pain in your heart that doesn’t go away, a deaf heavy brick onto your chest. So you try to breathe, but every rib hurts when you try to do so. Well, this happened to me when Peter told me that he kissed MJ. I was his best friend, I should have been happy for him, but I couldn’t. The reason is obvious: I was in love with him. Common, right? You’re probably thinking that. Our friendship didn’t begin like that, though. We were rivals at first, even enemies sometimes, because my dad preferred to work with him and not with me. I mean, I had Morgan, my younger sister, but it wasn’t enough for me. I needed him to actually see me. Now I regret it. Anyway, before we grew closer, I couldn’t stand Peter and he couldn’t stand me. We used to bicker all the time, until one night. One single night.

“Hi”, I said.

It changed my entire life.

“Hey”.

“What’s up?”

“I’m just hungry”, he replied, while looking into the fridge.

“Wanna know a secret?” I asked him. He turned in order to look at me. There was a spark of genuine curiosity in his gaze, but I was staring at his half smile on his face, a ghost of something that he didn’t use with me.

“Shoot”.

“The best food is not in the kitchen,” I replied. “It’s actually in my room”.

He grinned at me.

“Wow Y/N, I didn’t know you were this naughty. I thought you hated me. Turns out you just wanted something from me”.

I laughed out loud.

“You’re mistaken, Spidey. I just wanted to be kind, but turns out you’re a jerk. Goodnight, I’m gonna eat my marshmallows alone”.

“Wait, are you for real? True marshmallows? I’m coming,” he said and I smiled at him, truly happy. I didn’t have many friends at school, so I was glad to finally have somebody to hang out with, even if it was my rival.

Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t hate Peter, I just wanted my dad’s love, that’s all. Besides, it was impossible to hate Peter: he was the light when everybody came into the room. He made everybody comfortable and he reassured who needed a kind word. I admired him. Today I wouldn’t have treated him like that.

“I actually have one request,” I said, when he sat on my bed, while looking around.

“I knew it”.

“Spidey-sense?”

“No, I just know you, I guess,” he said and I felt a knot in my stomach. “Anyway, anything for you. I’m so hungry!”

“What if I’d ask you something terrible?” I asked him, while giving him some marshmallows on a plate. “What if you were wrong?”

Maybe I wasn’t talking about him, but about myself. I was so concerned not to be Tony Stark’s perfect daughter, that somehow I acted like that just so people could be right about me. Maybe I was just worried to be an evil person.

But he shrugged. Peter ate a marshmallow, looked straight into my eyes and said: “You’re not what you think you are, Y/N. Trust me, I would know”.

“Because you know me?”

“No, because of my Spidey-sense, you silly little girl,” he said and I chuckled. Then, his face became so serious it almost scared me. “You know, Ned warned me about you once”.

“Oh, really? Why?” I asked, while sitting next to him.

“He said that you’re trouble”.

“Trouble?”

“Yeah, like staring directly at the Sun. It’s kinda dope, though. You’re more like the Moon, but still. The Moon is so pretty and strong”.

“Strong? Why?”

“Yeah, because it takes courage to stay in the sky without anybody in the dark”.

“Oh, well, but the Moon has the stars. They’re like soldiers: they protect her”.

Peter looked at me while eating another marshmallow, as if he was really thinking about what I said, then he nodded.

“I agree. I can be your star,” he said. “I’ll protect you. From now on, we’re friends,” he stated.

I smiled at him.

“Thanks, friend”.

“You’re welcome,” he said. “Oh, what did you wanna ask me?”

I didn’t actually have anything to ask him. Maybe I just wanted some accompany that night, because I couldn’t sleep either. His words changed me, though. I wanted to return the favor in some way.

“One day, I’m gonna ask you to promise me something and you’ll have to keep your word”.

He brought a hand to his heart and swore to do so.

“Okay”.

And that was the night I fell in love with Peter Parker.

Some years after that, when we were at university, he broke my heart when he told me he kissed MJ.

“Why do I feel like you’re not happy about it?” He asked me.

How do you explain to somebody that you’re drowning in your own thought? In your own blood, in your own bones. It’s like you’re disappearing, but you really don’t. You just wish you could.

“Because I don’t really like her”.

“You’re kinda the same person, actually,” he said and it really hurt me.

“What?”

“No, wait, I didn’t mean to…”

“If you think that you can replace me with her, you can do it. It’s fine,” I said, shutting the door behind me.

“Y/N! I didn’t mean to say that! I just wanted… I just… I don’t know,” he sighed, then I heard him sitting on the floor, his back on the door and his breath so distant from my skin. He stayed silent for a couple of minutes, that’s why I thought he went away. I could still hear his heartbeat through the door though, since I was with my back on it like him. “You’re irreplaceable, to me. I just wanted to say that you’re similar to MJ, that’s it. You’re two black cats. I’m sorry”.

I remained silent for some time, then I sighed: it was impossible to stay angry at him for more than two minutes straight.

“That makes you a golden retriever, then?” I asked and he chuckled.

“I guess so”.

I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell him that I was in love with him then and that I had been for years, but the words wouldn’t come up to my mouth. Besides, he was in love with someone else. We were just friends and it had to be enough for me.

“Hey, Peter?”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“I learned that stars that shine the brightest do that because they’re dying. I shouldn’t do that”.

“Do what? Shine?”

“Die,” I said. “You’re not allowed to die. Okay?”

“Okay”.

I didn’t know it then, but I’d have been the one to die.

Thanos was… a lot of things. And Peter was a lot of things to me. So when I had to choose what to do, it was simple. My Dad didn’t want me to be there, but I was on the battlefield. I saw people fight, die give everything they could. It was terrific. But I was there to protect Peter, because I knew that he couldn’t do that alone, despite him being so strong all the time. Because he was like me.

“Y/N?” He shouted, when he saw me. He was surprised and scared at the same time. “You shouldn’t be here!”

“I should!” I said, while I was fighting with one of Thanos’ soldiers.

“If anything happens to you, I swear…”

“Nothing will happen!” I said, while he was winning against some soldier.

“Mr. Stark will be very disappointed!”

Yes, he was.

“He’ll understand!”

No, he didn’t.

“Why are you here?” Peter asked me, while he was close enough to put his hands on my shoulders. I had an armor, but it was useless when he looked into my eyes. I melted like a silly little girl.

“You know why,” I said and I prayed that he understood it. My heart clenched.

He gulped.

“I don’t”.

“You shine brighter than me. I can’t allow you to die,” I replied.

“This doesn’t make any sense, Y/N. I won’t leave you here. I’ll take you home”.

“You will,” I said. “You have to. You promised. Don’t follow me. You have to keep your word, remember? If Thanos kills me…”

“No, Y/N, no…”

“If Thanos kills me,” I continued, “you won’t look for revenge. Is it clear?”

“Y/N…”

“Is it clear?” I repeated, determined. He nodded. “Good”.

You’re asking yourself how I knew that, right? Well, I didn’t. But I knew Peter. I knew that he would have followed me anywhere, because I would have done that too.

Then, everything happened all at once. My Dad saw me from the distance. He called out my name, but I didn’t hear him. I was disappearing. Peter looked at me in disbelief, too astonished to talk. That was me dying twice.

“Remember me,” I said, while trying to hug him, but it was like my muscles were too tired to even embrace him. I was slowly falling asleep.

“Y/N? Y/N?” He called. “I love you! I love you!” He screamed, his voice a desperate heartbreak into the air. “I love you!”

When my dad reached out to him, it was already too late for me.

***

When Peter came back from the cemetery, he didn’t expect to see Tony Stark at his university, after five years. He knew that Y/N came to the battle just to protect Peter, so he hated him because if his eldest daughter died was his fault. But now he knew what to do in order to bring her back and he needed his help to do it.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter said, surprised. “I didn’t expect to see you here”.

“It’s her death anniversary, I know, but I had other things to do,” he said. “I know how to bring her back, Peter, but I need you to come with me”.

Peter shaked his head.

“I don’t understand: I thought that you hated me”.

“Y/N always said that nobody could really hate you and she was right”.

Peter smiled at him, his lips trembling.

“I broke up with MJ the day before the battle. I wanted to tell her, but I never got the chance. I thought that she didn’t want me”.

Tony put a hand on his shoulder, a warm smile on his face.

“There’s not a world in which she doesn’t want you, I fear”.

That being said, they were coming back to the past with the other Avengers in order to save Y/N and the people who had died because of Thanos. Tony was the first one to see Y/N coming back from the dead.

“Peter!” He called.

Peter turned and he saw Y/N. It was like coming back from a dream. She was finally back into his arms and he wouldn’t have let her go, this time. He dipped his nose into the crook of her neck and inhaled her scent. It was so real it made his heart ache. If he could have exchanged his place with her in all those years, he would have done so. He would have done anything to make her live a normal life. Being without her meant not living, but barely floating on the surface.

“I’m in love with you,” he said. “I’ve been for most of my life, actually. Since that night we ate the marshmallows together”.

He saw her bring her hands on her heart, tilting her head with tears in her eyes.

“And you’re my light, Peter. You always have been”.

Then he hugged her again and it felt like coming home.

#erule's masterlist #tom holland x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #spiderman fanfiction

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janesociety · 2 years

Note

hi lovely<3 can you do a james potter x shy reader where r is meeting his family for the first time at christmas?? thank you so much:)

this christmas

james potter x shy!reader

type: fluff

word count: 1.9k

summary: james brings his anxious girlfriend home for the first time at christmas

warnings: anxiety, small panic attack

notes: thank you so much for this request! i had a lot of fun writing this <33

masterlist

𝜗𝜚

“You’ll be okay,” James said, squeezing your hand.

“Oh, they’ll love you, Y/N,” Sirius said, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet. “I mean, they love me, so how could they not like you?”

“We really should’ve stopped him from drinking so many cups of coffee,” you whispered to James as Sirius ran ahead. James laughed.

“This is just how he gets every time he comes home,” James said, his breath fogging in front of him as he chuckled. “It’s just up here a little farther.” He pointed to a large brick house just up the road. It was beautiful, really. Big uniform windows with white shutters all had wreaths and green tinsel lining them. The wall lining the property was decorated with glowing Christmas lights strung across the entire perimeter. It looked like a house straight out of a muggle Christmas movie.

The three of you had stopped in town after arriving via train from Kings Cross. You hated traveling by floo powder and Sirius really wanted to ride on a muggle train, so James arranged for the three of you to take one up from London. While there, you made James go with you to find a present to thank his parents for letting you stay for the holiday. If it hadn’t been such a last minute decision, you would’ve gone to Hogsmeade, but now you were stuck with the set of candles you bought from a local shop.

“James,” you whispered as Sirius got to the gate in front of the house, swinging it open and rushing to the door. James recognized your tone and stopped walking. “I can’t.” Your heart was pounding so hard in your chest you could barely think, only feeling the intense fear that only grew as you approached the gate.

He reached out and places his hands on your upper arms, rubbing up and down to create minimal heat in the fridge temperatures.

“Oh, darling,” he said, seeing the look of utter dread on your face. “It’s going to be alright, you're going to be alright.” Your breathing picked up and your hands holding the wrapped box began to shake. “Hey, hey, hey,” he said, reaching up to cup your face.

“Sirius! Come in, darling,” you heard the voice of a woman carry across the empty yard of the house and over the short wall you were in front of. You let out a choked sob as your fears intensified. James looked over to his mum who was standing in the door watching the two of you. He gave her a small nod and she understood, shutting the door.

“You talk the same,” you said, still shaking and breathing heavily, but laughing lightly. You were trying to find anything to distract yourself. “I guess that’s why you say ‘darling’ so much.” James chuckled, his gloved hands still on your face. Tears were forming in your eyes, but at least you were smiling.

“We can walk around more if you’d like?” James offered, tucking a free piece of hair behind your ear. “No rush.” You shook your head.

“Just need a minute.” You leaned into his touch, trying to focus your breathing back. James took deep breaths with you, his shoulders moving up and down dramatically as he did so.

“Tell me the schedule again?” you asked, closing your eyes.

“Tonight we’ll have dinner- I think I can smell it already- and then us and Sirius can do whatever we want,” James said, moving his hands down again to create friction on your arms. “Then tomorrow, Peter, Remus, Lily, and Marlene are coming over for Christmas Eve. We’ll go into town, have lunch, and then come back home for dinner with mum and dad again. And on Christmas, we’ll have breakfast and open presents, of course, and then the rest of the day we have to ourselves.” You smiled, eyes still closed but breathing now steady.

James pressed a kiss to your cheek and you grinned wider, opening your eyes to see his own boyish grin.

“We can take that walk still,” he offered, squeezing your shoulder.

“No,” you said, still a little shaky. “I’m ready.” He smiled, taking your hand again and rubbing small circles on the back of your hand with his thumb.

As soon as you got relatively close to the door, it swung open, Euphemia Potter standing in the doorway.

“Hello! Goodness, Jamie, your girlfriend is going to freeze!” she chittered off, wiping her hands on the apron she was wearing. “Y/N, dear, it’s lovely to meet you finally.” You smiled shyly, squeezing James’ hand harder as you began making your way up the front steps. Euphemia smiled brightly at you- her smile alone almost putting you at ease.

“It’s lovely to-“ You were cut off by a crash in the kitchen.

“Monty! What did I say about picking up the pans before they cool!” Euphemia shouted, turning and rushing back into the house. It was more of a scolding than a shout, like how a mother would instruct her child as opposed to a lovers quarrel.

James turned to you to gauge your reaction, but all you could do was laugh. You made your way inside, taking off your shoes and jacket. Stepping into the house warmed you up almost immediately to the point where your cheeks flushed from the sudden temperature change.

“We’re in here, darlings!” Euphemia yelled from further inside the house. You smiled cheekily at James, grabbing his hand as he led you to the kitchen.

Sirius was already there, sneaking food off what appeared to be a plate of decorated cookies. Euphemia was at the sink with an older man, Fleamont Potter, cleaning off a fresh burn on his hand.

“Ah, you must be Y/N!” Monty said, smiling widely at the girl. He had James’ smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you!” You squeezed James’ hand tightly before responding.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” you said quietly. You were still so nervous about saying the wrong thing.

“James just never seems to shut up about you!” Monty continued as his wife remained cleaning up his hand. “His letter go on and on-“

“Dad!” James cut him off, blushing a deep shade of scarlet. You couldn’t help but laugh, bringing a hand to cover your mouth. “Don’t laugh at me!” James said, laughing too as he poked your side. “It’s not my fault you’re so intoxicating I can’t help but think of you at all times.” You and Sirius both pretended to gag at the same time, causing James and his parents to laugh. You suddenly remember the colorfully wrap box in your hands.

“Oh, uhm, James and I- we picked you up a present in town,” you said, stumbling over your words. James grabbed your hand again, running his thumb over your knuckles. “As a thank you, for letting me stay.”

“Oh, how lovely, you’re welcome any time, sweetheart,” Euphemia said, finally dropping Monty’s hand. She came over to you and took the present out of your hands. “Monty, dear, would you put this under the tree?” Monty nodded, quickly rushing off.

“James, dearie, could you take the potatoes out of the oven,” Euphemia asked, going back to tending to the dinner she was preparing now that she was done with Monty’s burn. “Oh, Y/N, sit, darling, relax.”

You complied, finding a spot next to Sirius- who was still sneaking cookies- and watching as James began helping his mother cook.

“He is really crazy about you, y’know,” Sirius said, wiping frosting and crumbs off of his face. You stared at him, deadpan. He was messing with you, you assumed. “I’m serious!”

“No, I’m Sirius,” you mocked his usual line.

“Ha-ha,” he said, rolling his eyes. “But, like actually, when you started dating, he would not talk about anything else- ever! He was totally mad.” You blushed, squeezing your hands in your lap.

“Sirius, would you set the table for me, dear?” Euphemia asked, taking her final dish out of the oven.

“What happened to relaxing?” he groaned, dragging himself out of his seat nonetheless. Euphemia tutted.

“I told Y/N to relax,” she said, shaking her head amusedly. “You decided to relax and eat all the Christmas cookies I made for your friends tomorrow!”

“Oh, you love me, Ef,” Sirius said, beginning to pass out plates.

“Here, I’ll help,” you said, grabbing a handful of silverware.

“No, no, darling, sit down,” Euphemia insisted.

“Really, it’s fine,” you said, blushing.

“James, tell your girlfriend that she is our guest and we insist she not do any chores while she’s staying here,” she said, turning to her son. James started towards you, a big grin plastered on his face.

“No, James, it’s really-“ he cut you off with a small kiss, taking your moment of distraction to pry the forks you were holding out of your hand.

“You heard the woman,” he said, pushing on your shoulders and forcing you back into your seat. You bit your tongue to keep yourself from laughing as you glared up at James. “Aw, don’t give me that look,” he grumbled sarcastically, kissing your nose before returning to the kitchen with his mother.

The dinner was out soon enough, and you were sat next to James with Euphemia on your right at the head of the table, Monty across from you, and Sirius across from James. Conversation flowed comfortably, even if you only added in when James prompted you.

“So, Y/N, James tells me you’re a Ballycastle fan, aren’t ya?” Monty asked, looking up at you with a grin. You nodded, quickly trying to finish chewing your food. James squeezed your thigh under the table. “Bah, didn’t you think that last minute call the other night-“

“-was total bull!” you finished for him, the two of you laughing. James chuckled.

“No, no, you Bats fans are just sore losers,” James said, his smile matching his father’s.

“Says the Puddle Dud,” Sirius spoke up, causing the table to burst out laughing.

“Hey, how many European Cups have the Bats won again?” James feigned curiosity.

“Oh, okay, you want to bring up the Euro Cup then? When the Magpies have won just as many?” Sirius said. James’ hand was no longer on your leg and was now waving wildly in the air as his and Sirius’ debate became more heated.

“Alright, boys,” Euphemia said, immediately halting the argument.

“I just don’t know how you live with him, Ef,” Sirius said, exasperated. “I mean, he likes the most overrated team in the league!”

“You live with me too now, y’know,” James said, glaring at him. Sirius looked up with a stoic look on his face.

“Effy, Monty, I think it’s time we’ve had a real conversation about James moving out,” Sirius said, putting down his silverware.

“Enough,” Euphemia said, laughing at their antics. “You boys are too much.” Sirius and James ended their short scuffle with childish tongues stuck out at each other.

“James,” you said, putting a hand on his arm. He immediately stopped and turned to you.

“Sorry,” he said quickly.

“She’s got you wrapped around her finger, doesn’t she now?” Euphemia said, smiling as she took a sip of her sparkling drink.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Sirius said, returning to his meal. “The boy is whipped.”

#james potter #james potter fanfiction #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x you #james potter x reader #james potter x shy!reader #james potter fluff #marauders #maraders era #marauders christmas #marauders fanfiction #sirius black x reader #(platonic)#janie writes ‧₊˚✩彡

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honestsycrets · 1 year

Text

enfócate ii: non-negotiable

❛ pairing | tutor!miguel x student!reader

❛ type | explicit

❛ summary | miguel has to choose his battles: insist on removing peter from your life or get what he wants.

❛ tags | schoolgirl au, spanish tutor!miguel, Miguel's jealousy, slight obsessive qualities, fuck buddies, fuck boy Miguel, mention of physical assault, hurt peter, mention of violence, breakups, non-penetrative smut, slightly unknowledgeable reader, silly playtime.

❛ sy's notes | masterlist here. please READ THE TAGS. on this fic particularly, i seem to encounter people who trigger themselves.

Miguel had many girls.

None gave a shit when it came down to it. They talked a good game over text messages and phone calls, tried their best to please him sexually, and snuck into their bed. They might even have lunch or dinner with him. Very rarely this.

He was doing his notes that Monday afternoon, scribbling away when his phone lit up. He flicked a look, realizing it was your photo that popped up. Not the many cum stained photos he had in his phone in your own folder. Those were not safe for any of his bosses to see, but one of those sweet photos that Peter’s taken.

Miguel isn’t stupid. He knows a love-sick puppy when he sees one. One look at Peter’s socials reveals many things: volunteering with a high school club to teach photography, stupid little flowers that he finds gorgeous, a number of subjects for his fine arts degrees, and on Sunday-- you. Sitting on a chunky rock in a beautiful dress in a stream, the sun bouncing off your strawberry-dusted cheeks. He has to do something about Peter.

“¿Qué pasó, Princesa? I’m finishing my notes.”

“I have something for you,” you answered. “Come outside.”

“For me?” Miguel tucks his phone between his ear and shoulder, closing his manilla folder that held a time-sensitive report. Miguel grabbed his keys and wallet, heading for the door. Everyone else was gone for the day, but Miguel did his homework in the lab.

“Sí,” you laughed. “¿Quién más?”

“Tch,”

At least those Spanish lessons are paying off. Miguel rushes down the three flights of stairs in record time and pops out the back door. You pushed past the archways into the beautiful gardens that usually obscure pedestrians from staring at scientists as they quickly woof down their food and bolt back inside to deal with whatever piteous work they had. Miguel slips on his dark sunglasses, turning his arms one over another. You have time to stop and appreciate nature, more than he could say about even himself.

“Princesa,” he hangs up the phone and takes a few steps to the tables where you were, twirling around the scent of fragrant orange blossoms. He bites back an amused smile, his voice picking up in a humored lilt. “What are you doing?”

“Dancing!” you hopped on one stone table, then the other.

“Don’t fall,” Miguel snatches you short of falling off the third table, setting your ass down with a mindful pull of your dark burgundy skirt over your thighs. “Why did you call?”

You supply him with a wicker picnic basket that was hooked over your elbow, pulling open the flap. The warm smell of meat and corn greeted his nose, finally shaking loose the smile that he had suppressed since you first called him.

“I brought you dinner.”

He blinks.

“Me?”

“You said you had to study for your test,” you looked up at the red brick building, “It’s better if you don’t get distracted by going out for food.”

He doesn’t have the heart to tell you that he usually brings his own food, regimented as he is. Miguel sets his hands on your hips and watches as you pull free whatever it was you made him. You set aside the basket and offer him the glass container and a bag of tamales, enveloped in their warm little husks.

“Menudo. And these are tamales con carne. My familia makes them every year. I brought them just for you.”

“You didn’t have to,” he murmured.

“But I wanted to.” You reached for the envelope collar of his lab coat, smoothing it down against his chest. “Besides, every one of my primas do it for their men. I can’t keep just bringing food home for Peter.”

It’s not that serious, he wants to say. There’s something soft about the way you recount it to him. He can’t stand to go against what you’re saying and instead sets the food back in its home, tucking your hair behind your ear. He traces the shell to your lobes, flicking his finger against the dripping earrings.

“Come upstairs.”

“No,” you answer quickly, leaning up to place a meager little kiss on his cheek. “You should be studying and if I go up there…”

He’d definitely get in trouble bringing his fuck buddy up to his office. Still, it might be worth it.

“I won’t get anything done,” he finishes. “Give me a real goodbye kiss.”

“You didn’t like that kiss?”

“It was a sad kiss.”

Peter was an essential part of your life.

He was closer than a friend if such things spaces between friendship and relationships existed. You supposed that in the absence of romantic relationships, friendships were the next best thing. Who else, but family, would support you? You nibbled on a hunk of toast with sweetened cream cheese and frozen berries ala Peter, whose head draped over your thigh. Your fingers combed through his thin brown hair, twirling bits around your index finger as he lay with a full belly and fuller thoughts.

“Sooo, how did it go?” Peter asked, staring at fluffy clouds that whirled by that perfectly cozy afternoon. “Did my super awesome plan go perfectly?”

You’re too shy to talk about it.

“Aw it did, didn’t it? I knew it!” Peter reached up, tickling his fingers through the ribbons of a pearl headband you wore that day. “Is he good? I hear all kinds of stuff about him.”

“Peter,” blood rushed to your face. “We haven’t…”

“Haven’t what?” he asked. “Ohhh. Oh. You haven’t fucked him? I thought…”

“We did-- just not that,” you patted his warm pink cardigan, flapping your hand down. “We haven’t you know--”

“Had sex?”

Peter could be too much sometimes. Today was one of those aggravating days. You settled down your hunk of toast, bobbing your head in a nod, eager to explain without making the words. “Just… oral. I couldn’t Peter, I’m not ready yet.”

“I know,” Peter’s tone goes soft. “But he can’t be happy about that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Every time Miguel has a new girl, he makes sure to fuck them as soon as possible. Keeps ‘em connected, or something, or that’s what Dana says.”

“Who’s Dana?” you chirped after him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You… looked so sad seeing him with someone else. I couldn’t… break your heart like that."

“You couldn’t tell me, but you could kiss me?”

“It was a nice kiss. Isn’t it about time for him to stomp past here?”

You wonder what Peter might mean by that. He slid his eyes shut, humming with one long leg thrown over the other. About time for his afternoon nap until you shook him awake because of your sore arms or back-- whichever came first. He slides his eyes shut, going to sleep under the feeling of your fingers twirling through his hair.

“You’re impossible, Peter.”

Peter was always right. You spotted your muscular man walking past the hedges, in a clean white shirt that obscured nothing about his muscles. You thought he would do what he usually did: wave, move on, talk to whatever whore of the day was on his arm.

He was walking with a girl who was tall and lithe. She made no moves to cling onto him as he slipped down the slight grassy slope where you sat with Peter, reviewing the intricacies of corrugated pottery before class. Your heart soared in your chest as he crouched down, a hand on his knee, scanning Peter’s face.

“I thought we talked about this.”

You didn’t expect those to be the first words out his lips, but lo, they were. He regarded Peter the same way he might an annoying animal with their favourite human, with blatant distaste and a passing hint of jealousy. You didn’t understand why.

“About…”

“Other men.”

“Peter isn’t another man. He’s non-negotiable.”

Miguel’s thick eyebrows pushed together as he processed the blatant line in the sand that you drew. You weren’t about to give up your dear friend, picnic dates at lunch, or photography shoots on the weekend for a man you sucked off. No matter how good he tasted and how thick his muscles were, crouched with those wild chocolate eyes.

“I’ll stay away from other men-- but not him. You take it or leave it.”

Miguel worked his jaw, clearly debating on the value of fighting you then and there. Miguel didn’t negotiate. It was never in his nature.

“Miggy,” called the woman on the sidewalk. She wore a dark bob, a streak of purple spiraling along her head. She has a terribly squeaky tone, one that is full of ire from having to say anything at all. “The samples.”

“This isn’t over, Princesa.”

He relented. Not because he wanted to, but because time was undoubtedly limited. You were pretty sure it was.

Miguel is breaking another rule. Not only does he glaze over Peter in your life, but he brings you to his apartment for tutoring. He’d deal with Peter after he secured you. You were proving one of the most difficult of his women to keep.

Come over, it'll be private, he claimed in a text message. It’s absolutely not to peel away your soft pale pink panties nestled up against your cunt, drag them down your hips, and onto the floor. He’ll keep those.

It’s not because the desk in the study room would do nothing to obscure his sinewy frame, shoving your legs apart and dragging you to the very edge of the seat.

“Take your vocabulary quiz.” You nibbled on your pencil as Miguel buried his head between your thighs, biting down on your thick thighs to encourage you to spread your legs wider. You breathed out an elongated hiss at another bite to your opposing thigh.

“Pero, Miguel-- how…” you murmured, making the mistake of looking between your legs. Miguel met your gaze, possessed with the smell of your body. You greet him with a choked-out groan of his name the second his mouth connected with your pussy. He knew you would taste sweet.

“It’s very simple. You start writing,” The quiz should be easy. A simple finish the sentences with the right word and vocabulary word box to boot. It was terribly easy-- if not for Miguel’s tongue suckling the juices that dripped from your core, you might have already finished it. It was hard-- too hard-- to focus on anything but Miguel’s warm tongue prodding your cunt, his fingers sliding within your hole. Miguel urges his finger around the rim. “Preferably something in Spanish.”

His tongue slid from your entrance to your clitoral hood. Another finger joins the first, twisting and pulling apart your impossibly tight hole. He just knew you would feel amazing. He suckled along your lips, suckling them wet as you struggled to read and make any sense of what was on the page. It wasn’t going to happen.

“Miguel, Miguel--” Your voice drew out, it had been so long since you had a partner. “Dame más.”

“There you go,” Miguel hummed, closing his mouth around your puffy clit in worship for the admittance. The pencil tumbled free from your fingers. Without thinking, your hand buried into Miguel’s silky dark brown hair, rolling your hips onto his face to pursue an orgasm. He suckled it fat and needy, his fingers curving in your body. With a soft sob, the pleasure caused you to gush messily all over his fingers. Your fingers knotted up in his hair, riding his face until you’re left with nothing but the cozy haze of your pleasure.

You don’t know how you’re going to pass this stupid language requirement now.

Miguel kisses you, soft and sweet, gentle and light. You taste yourself on his tongue and worry about the way you taste. Miguel doesn’t seem to have a single complaint. He grabs your hands, helping you to stand upright, even though your legs were as stable as a newborn giraffe’s. With your body against Miguel’s, you could feel the outline of his cock nice and hard, tenting his sweatpants.

“Should we take this to bed?”

“I…” you asked, shyly so. “I’m not ready for that. Is that… okay?”

Coño. It’s not the answer he hoped for, but Miguel can be patient. He dips his head down and resigns himself to a night of jerking himself off. He had been looking forward to today, fucking his new girl. He steeled himself from any reaction that may inch across his face and offered you his hand.

“Claro que sí, princesa,” Miguel finds himself saying. It’s not that you can’t retract the consent, but he knows that you have some shyness to do so. He rather honesty over concern for his ego. The session had at least been an hour-- with Miguel’s focus fading at the sight of your cute little pink dress. “We can stop here. You can take the test as homework. Have it done by next time.”

“But… you’re hard.”

“It’s not the first time I’ve jerked off,” Miguel shrugs off the thought. It wasn’t how he imagined today going, but it wasn’t-- Miguel dropped his gaze down to his waistband. Your fingers tingle over the white ties, pull them loose.

“I want to take care of you,” you shoved his sweats onto the floor, pooling around his slender feet. Miguel’s cock bobbed in the cool air, impossibly hard. You walked him back from his desk to his bed. He falls back on it, his big dick kissing his muscular stomach. “Lay back.”

He found himself eagerly complying. You snatched the lube he keeps on his desk, likely knowing that he kept it there for just this reason. Miguel likes to think that his sexual needs are usually met-- but sometimes, they aren’t. You shoved his legs apart and climbed onto the bed, gliding your hands up the inside of his thighs. A warmth filled his lower belly as you popped open the plastic bottle and drizzled it over his cock. The cool liquid made him flinch.

“It’s not that cold,” you asked, a tease on your lips.

“You find it funny? Let me pour some on you, then,” Miguel remarked, his gaze following your fingers. You gripped him, soothing your palms over the top of his cock and back down, milking him like with your soft hands. You spend particular time smoothing over his root, tracing his veins up to the tip. Your thumb massaged his slit, smoothing a soft bead of fluid that gathered there.

“Do you like it?” you asked.

“It’s nice.”

He hummed and lolled his head back onto his pillow. You met him where he was, your lips against his, exchanging a soft and wet kiss. A groan escaped his chest, clearly appreciating your affection. You want him to love it, need it, and crave it at the end of the day. Maybe you could not do all the things the other women could, but there was something about the way you looked and touched him that he knew he could not easily replicate.

“Miggy. How do I make it better?” You asked, more of a whine than anything.

"Better?" Miguel reached up, cupping your breast with one hand. He gives you a squeeze, urging your nipple to harden underneath the fabric. His hazy eyes turn to the other breast, repeating the treatment. You nodded as he worked-- and it's cute how much you want to make him happy.

“Let me fuck your tits. Get on your back, take the dress off,” Miguel looked toward the bottle of lube. He finally has you naked. Every inch you peeled away revealed a little more precious skin that he’s craved to see all week. You slipped off the dress, then your bra, laying back on the sheets. The lube is lukewarm, but when it hit your warm skin, it caused you to flinch too.

“Oh, now it’s cold,” Miguel teased. You smeared the wet lube over your breasts, pushing them together just right. Warmth bit your cheeks as Miguel mounted you, either muscular thigh on the side of your ribs. Between his large body cradling your breasts and his eyes on yours, he realized that you were terribly shy. He rubs the head of his cock against your nipples before sliding between your breasts. “You’re so shy.”

“I’m sorry,” you nodded. It becomes clear that as much as you trust him-- there is some barrier to complete trust. Miguel began to thrust, his hips cantering in the warm, wet lubricant. You could appreciate every day he spent at the gym, making a physique that other men could only aspire to. He was so thick-- so handsome. His breath came out in sharp little puffs as he worked, hands coming on top of yours for both stability and the opportunity to touch you. His fingers slid between the empty gaps of your own, eyes closed, face taut with pleasure.

You knew, as much as he knew, what he was thinking of. His cock wrecking your pussy for the first time because no matter how many times you jerked him off, sucked his cock, or let him fuck your tits, he’d always wonder. He was certain you wanted it too, wanted to feel what it would be like to be under him-- pounded pretty. Your head rose to watch his cockhead peep out between your breasts. Every sweeping motion was rewarded with a little lick, earning a hiss of your name. His measured features hardened.

“Coño,” Miguel cursed as the thick ropes of his cum coated your tits. He forced himself forward, cum pumped over your collarbone and neck, dripping into your hair. The grip on your breast was unrelenting, while the other jerked himself through the bolts of aftershock. To his surprise, you gathered his cum between your fingers and suckled it, tasting his warm salty fluid on your tongue. He watched you, enraptured, as you cleaned yourself-- then went after his softening dick, suckling the spent seed there.

“Beautiful,” he murmured as he pulled away. You followed, inching up his chest to kiss him. He tasted himself, finding that he liked how he tasted much more when it was on your tongue. “Stay the night.”

He never asked anyone to stay the night. It was a flagrant violation of another rule that all the others knew he had. Miguel was open to having another roommate. A pretty girl to fuck and keep. She just had to be the right kind of girl. He has a feeling you’re that girl, nestling between his arm and chest, holding him close.

He just had to fuck you first to find out.

The thing about having multiple girls is-- his interest wanes.

He never knows the exact cause. Only that he’s distracted with you. Perhaps it’s your resistance to letting him actually fuck you. Not eat you out, not have his dick sucked, not fuck your tits, but fuck you. He’s thought about how a hundred different ways. Against the museum, in his bed, in the library, his private office-- It encompasses much of his attention. You were at Peter’s art showing Friday night, which was how he ended up here with Dana, yet again.

She wants to see this stupidly romantic movie that no one else is really into from the looks of the empty seats. Miguel isn’t invested either, his mind is racing with thoughts of someone else. Her lips are wrapped around his dick in the dark movie theatre, he goes soft. Soft-- Miguel rarely goes soft, he’s looking for a hole to fuck into. Apparently, this one is no good. He eventually sighs, pushing on her head to remove her from his cock.

“What is it, Miggy?”

A balance of light and shadows highlight her face as she sits there, looking positively aggravated with her failed Friday night date. Miguel knows that he can’t perform like this. He glances down at the near-empty theatre and itches the back of his neck, tucking himself back into his jeans.

“I’m not horny,” he murmured, folding his arms one over the other. He’s surprised she can hear him over the beaming sound of the movie theatre. She does, shoving his shoulder in protest over his shitty performance.

“You’re usually horny,” she bites back.

“Then maybe it’s you.”

The impulse to take it out on Dana is out before he can control it. She flicks her head at him, her slight eyes popping wide open. She searches Miguel’s flat features for an apology, ruffling her fluffy purple bangs away from her eyes. He doesn’t give her one.

“Oh, now you don’t want me? Ever since you’ve started seeing that teashop bitch,” Miguel perked his brow up, “You don’t have time for me. What? Is she that good?”

Tea shop bitch. It’s been over a week of trying to get you to fuck him at multiple intervals. He hasn’t been able to. Not for a lack of trying, but your shy deflection and offers to do things like-- pick an orange off the trees by his building, walk around on a date, or just touch one another. He tried to understand: you weren’t a girl that ran out to date many men. In fact, he’s pretty sure that he is the outlier in your sex life.

“You’re right,” he says. “We should stop fucking.”

“What?”

“You’re too attached,” Miguel stood up, his hands forming tight balls in his pockets. “And I’m just not that interested.”

“When did that change? A month ago? Miguel?”

He doesn’t have time for her stupid possessiveness, her obsession with keeping her slot as his default bitch. Other women told him all about Dana-- how she tended to show up where they were, bumping into them, or the rumors she spread in the department. He jots down the stairs, ignoring her squealing call of his name. The issue with Dana was this: she loved him far too much and he loved her far too little. As with so many of his once-were fuckbuddies, it was better for Miguel to go on his way.

Or, it would have been. He received a concerning message the next day.

I don’t want to see you again.

It’s from your number. Any attempted calls go straight to voicemail. Logically, he should have been able to count it as a loss and move on with any of the other women he had in his life. Illogically, Miguel wants an explanation. If he can’t get one from you, he knows just who will give him one.

Jess already knows what it’s about from the look behind her yellowed sunglasses. Her arms are turned one over the other, clearly having some sort of reservation from this meeting alone. She seems pissed off at him too despite the fact that he has no idea what the fuck he did. He only knows that you’ve virtually disappeared from his life.

“Are you going to tell me?” Miguel asks.

The crispy bagel sits forgotten before him, alongside the coffee that plumes wisps of heat into the air. Jess flicks her eye down to the steam, then back to Miguel.

“I told you to leave that girl alone in the first place.”

“You also set us up. I should know why she left.��

Jess looked off to the wind wisping through the trees, then to everybody that walked on by. There was an undeniable truth to what he said, her involvement was obvious and disconcerting. Whatever had happened, he deserves an explanation. You weren’t going to make this easy to talk to you, but he was intent. So long as he knew the depth of your irritation with him.

“Someone burned Peter. Something about… what was it? Stealing her man?”

He hates that he doesn’t have to ask who.

"Is he hurt?"

"Bad enough," Jess answers. "Y'know how special he is to her."

He's not sure he does.

#spiderman imagines #spiderman imagine #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara/reader #spiderman x reader #atsv imagine #atsv imagines #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you

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marvelobsessed134 · 3 months

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Ok I got a Peter Steele one

Innocent female reader encounters Peter who’s a vampire and chooses her to be his mate but she tries to run away

Be my druidess

This is part of my spooky summer series! You can access the masterlist here

This is probably one of the longest fics I’ve ever written on here it took me 3 days to write lol

Pairings: Vampire!Peter Steele x Innocent!Fem!Reader

Warnings: absolutely FILTHY, yes I mention how large he is a lot but I mean COME ON, reader is obviously smaller than him, reader is a virgin, bleeding during sex, marking, biting (hes a vampire duh), kidnapping, dub/non con, Peter being sexy idk, he lives in a gothic vampiric castle 😍

The day started out simple enough. You got up and went to the coffee shop before school. When you got your order and started to make your way out of the establishment, you bumped into a very muscular and very tall man. He was at least 6’8 with long black hair and beautiful green eyes. You felt a little nervous around him he was huge and albeit very majestic.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to see you there little mouse.” His deep voice said.

You cranked your neck to look up at him, “It’s okay it was just an accident.” You said, your voice sweet and soft.

And man, did you smell good.

“I just hope I didn’t hurt you. I’m Peter.” The raven haired man held out his large hand and you placed yours inside it. His larger hand practically swallowed your small one. “You didn’t I promise. I’m Y/n, it’s nice to meet you Peter.”

Oh god, you were so polite.

Peter shook your hand and let go, flashing you a smile before saying, “Well, I don’t want to keep you from wherever you’re going.”

“School. I’m going to school.” You smiled.

Oh, you must be young.

You bid your farewell before walking out of the coffee shop. Peter watched you make your way onto the streets of Brooklyn.

You were young, sweet, and innocent.

Just perfect for him.

Later in the night, you were walking home from a long day studying at the library after school. You couldn’t wait to go home and fall asleep in your small but cozy bed, when you could’ve sworn someone was following you. But when you looked around no one was there so you shrugged it off.

As you continued walking you heard other footsteps behind you and they were getting quicker and quicker. You started to walk a little faster, before you were pulled into an alleyway.

Pressed against the brick wall of a building, you tried to scream but a large hand covered your mouth. “Don’t scream, darling. You don’t want to make this difficult for me.” The familiar deep voice said.

“Peter?” You asked, but it was muffled by his hand. Peter chuckled lowly, “Yes, it’s me, Y/n.”

“Let me go please. I don’t know what you want from me but…I only have five dollars in my pocket.” You said, trying to get your voice loud enough for him and anyone else to hear against his palm.

“Oh baby, I don’t wanna take your money. I just want you, my love. I think you’ll be the perfect bride for me.” Your eyes widened at his words. Bride?

Suddenly he opened his mouth and you screamed against his hand when you saw he had fangs. He’s a vampire.

“Vampire!” Was all you could muster out.

“You’re so smart, Y/n. Now let me mark you, make you mine forever.” Suddenly as he was about to mark you on your neck you wriggled out of his hold and started to book it down the street. Part of you wanted to see what was going to happen with the handsome man but the logical part of you told you to run.

So you ran, and ran. Thinking you lost him you took a little stop to catch your breath. But that happened to be the biggest-or best-mistake of your life. Because a strong arm hooked around your waist and lifted you up so easily. Peter snapped his fingers and suddenly you found yourself in a fancy dark black and red bedroom that looked like the inside of a castle.

“Where am I? Where did you take?” You cried.

“My castle. Well, it’s our castle now my love.” He was so calm about this.

You pushed him with all your might but it didn’t seem to do anything. His eyes darkened and he grabbed your arms and put them to your side, “Behave.” He warned.

You felt a sensation in between your legs and was very embarrassed about it. Peter noticed you shift in attitude and chuckled, “Did that turn you on, darling? Me telling you to behave?”

You looked down at your feet, blushing. Not wanting to give him an answer. But Peter knew, he was a vampire after all and had advanced senses. He could smell your arousal.

The vampire tilted your chin up with his index finger, “I know you’re wet. I can smell it.”

Your eyes widened in shock and you tried to back away, but he roughly grabbed you and whispered aggressively in your ear, “Try and run one more time. You won’t succeed. I will always catch you.” It sent a shiver down your spine and you nodded slowly, tears pricking your eyes.

“Come over here baby.” Peter said and he less you to the black and red gothic canopy bed, sitting both of you down next to each other.

He caressed your face softly and leaned in to kiss you, passionately. You’ve never been kissed before so you didn’t know how to react but you tried your best. When the raven haired man pulled away he stroked your cheek, “You’re so beautiful. I knew you’d be the perfect bride for me.” There he went, using that word. Bride.

A dark evil smile took over him, “Now…where was I?” He retracted his fangs again and laid you down quickly so you couldn’t escape, and made the effort to put half-so he wouldn’t crush you to death-of his body weight to hold you in place when he licked a spot on hole neck before sinking his teeth deep inside.

You screamed in both pleasure and pain as he marked you. Mated you.

“Now you’re mine…forever.” He chuckled lowly before kissing you again, then moving down to your neck kissing the spot he bit. He ripped your shirt off with ease, along with your thin bra, exposing your breasts. The larger man groped the soft mounds in his large hands, tweaking your nipples in the process.

“Ooh-“ you hissed at the new sensation.

“You like that?”

You nodded and he continued to kiss down your bare torso before reaching the waistband of your skirt. He kissed the skin right above it before pulling it down along with your soaked panties.

“Fuuuck, you’re so soaked.” You cried out when he licked a bold stripe up your folds and started to flick his tongue on your clit.

“Oh my god! Peter!”

Peter held your soft thighs with his hands as he ate you out like you were his last meal.

“Mmm- mm- I’m gonna-“ you couldn’t even finished your sentence when you felt the coil snap inside of you, releasing your juices all over the man’s face. You were a moaning mess as you moaned and cried out. Peter happily licked you up before standing up to pull his shirt and pants off. Your eyes widened at the size of his dick.

“That’s supposed to go inside me?” You asked nervously.

“It’ll be okay, I promise, darling.” Soon your head was resting on the pillow and you were in missionary position, holding onto the vampire’s shoulders as he slowly pushed inside of you. Your screams echoed through the castle walls.

“Holy fuck you’re tight.” He rolled his eyes back in ecstasy as he continued to enter you, putting all 11 inches inside. He let you adjust to his size before he started to thrust into you.

When he looked down to see a little bit of blood from your pussy he immediately scooped it up with his finger and licked it clean, moaning at the taste of your sweet plasma.

Your cries and screams turned into those from pleasure, rolling your eyes back as Peter repeatedly hit your G spot.

“You’re so pretty and tight. So small and sweet I can’t wait to spend eternity with you.” His words took you over the edge as you clenched around him before cumming once again. The raven haired man had to hold himself back a little bit so he had time to pull out before he came.

Finally, he pulled out and finished on your tummy. Then he scooped up his own cum with his finger and put it to your mouth, “Open.” You did as he said, opening your mouth and allowing him to insert his cum covered digit. You sucked and licked it clean.

“Good girl. Now, this might hurt a little bit.” And he bit you once again.

To turn you into his vampire bride.

#peter steele x reader #type o negative x reader #type o negative #Peter Steele #vampire au #ugh I love him too much #he’s one of my new obsessions can’t you tell #musics super good too don’t get me wrong #I’m just a hormonal teenage girl

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