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clouded-dreams2 · 2 years

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Would You? | Norman Osborn x Gn!Reader

a/n - This is something I wrote a while back. I am dearly sorry for misspelling, or grammar mistakes. I hope you all like it!

Paring - Norman Osborn x Reader, with bits of Goblin x Reader.

Warnings - Angst, Fluff, Some heavy suggestive content, Kissing, I’m sorry if I missed anything

You were sat at the dining table in the Osborn mansion. Father and son sat across from each other, one Osborn at each end. Norman at the head of the table, Harry at the end, Peter sitting the closest to Harry, You sitting on the opposite from Peter and closest to Norman. It was a formal dinner with friends and Harry's dad. You knew Norman wouldn't want it any other way. You knew Goblin wouldn’t have it any other way. You knew about Goblin, the way you found out was what it was. Unlike some people who have had run-ins with the villain. You had come to the mansion to stay in the company of others, or that was the alibi you told people, it was actually to help Norman with a project. He won you over by saying he needed an extra pair of scientific expertise. He wasn’t going to use someone from Oscorp, he never explained why. Part of you thought it was because he was wanting to spend time with you.

“Norman?” You called for him, though he hadn’t answered. Harry had let you in as he was leaving to head over to Peter’s for the night. You wandered around, maybe he hadn’t heard you. He would’ve called if he wasn’t going to be there. He would have called. You keep wandering, until you stumble upon the Goblin’s mask. Already assuming the worst, maybe the masked villain had something against Norman, or Harry, or you even. You heard a low mumble from the room over, and then a whimper of a question. You ran in, not thinking much. You couldn’t have taken on the Goblin by yourself.

“Such a nice surprise. Norman’s little pet.” The way Norman had said pet rang in your head, the sharpness of the tone. You weren’t going to admit it but it was arousing. The sudden behavior that Norman had, shocked you. He walked to stand in front of you in his robe.

Don’t hurt her.

Oh, Norman. You should know better. Goblin placed his thumb below your chin.

“Hello, doll~.” Before you could reply, he had his lips on yours. It wasn’t something new, hell you’ve done the deed with the CEO of Oscorp many times. It was just unexpected. That’s why you were tempted to pull back, or maybe you weren’t fully convinced the man in front of you was the man you knew. Not that you minded. You didn’t mind, and that’s what brought you to place your hand in his hair. The slight tug you gave, made Goblin growl. It was low. While he quickly ran his hands to your hips and bit your bottom lip. Causing you to gasp and him to slide his tongue between the lips that gave him the pleasure of being there. Between exploring and battling for dominance he found himself getting carried away. He didn’t want to get to carried away and then have everything fucked over. Maybe he liked her, Maybe from the moment she stepped in he could sense something. Goblin groaned as he pulled away, not wanting to leave the current close connection to the person that made him feel different… protective, dare he say comfortable.

“Norman.” you whined, the man who you had just kissed turned around, he didn’t know what to say. For once the Goblin was speechless. He had left and now Norman was in charge scooping you into a hug. You hadn’t known what just happened, you were completely unaware. Though the personality switch was noticeable. You were going to question him when it felt right, but for the moment you just held him.

“Darling, I thought he was going to harm you.” Norman spoke softly, he was back. He was thankful that you weren’t harmed. He didn’t want to let go of the hug. Though if you asked he would. He would also tell you what happened if you asked, or whenever the time felt right.

“Norman?” That’s when it hit you. He had some connection to the Goblin. You stepped back, out of the hug. You looked at him, he looked innocent, scared. How could he have some sort of connection to the Goblin?

“Yes.” He answered. Assuring you and himself that it was him, he didn’t know what happened much less if you knew who that part of him was.

“Do you work for the Goblin?”

She thinks you work for me? She’s not half wrong.

“Shut up.” Norman said aloud, taking a minute to remember that you were there too.

“Not you. Never you,” He smiled and kept the space you had created between the both of you. He didn’t realize just how much space there was. You weren’t scared, no. You just wanted to know, you didn’t want him to lie, and the sudden shut up he spoke made you jump slightly.

“Everyth-” He wasn’t going to lie, he couldn’t and whatever would happen would happen.

“Norman. Are you okay?” You asked sincerely, you loved him. You love him.

“No. Honestly, I haven’t been.” There was a silence that filled the room, an unbreakable silence that went on for what felt like forever. One that clogged the room filled to every corner, every crevice between each book on his bookcase.

“I.. Performance Enhancers. The project I told you about, the one a week ago. The body that was found at Oscorp. That was all him,” He paused, taking a step forward while you took a step back. He was scared, he was terrified you were going to leave. There were tears that started forming. He took a deep breath.

“The Green Goblin. He was created from the performance enhancers. I don’t know what happened. I can’t tell you, and I want to. I created him. He’s part of me. And I have no control over him, I have no memory of what he does. And all I can hear is his voice. And it haunts me.” His throat closed up, he wanted to cry. He wanted to fall to his knees and cry. He was terrified of what your reaction was going to be.

“He. He haunts me. And I can’t control what haunts me.” He turned, no longer facing you, and started tearing up. If he lost you, he wouldn’t forgive himself, he wouldn’t forgive the Goblin.

“Norman… He’s killed people.” Was all you managed to say. You didn’t realize how close to the door you were. You didn’t want to leave, but you felt out of control. Your body was flushed against the door. Maybe. Maybe you were scared. You read J.J Jameson’s newspaper. You read about the Goblin.

“I.. He.. We have.” His breath hitches, his tone was raw of emotion. He already thought of himself as the criminal.

“Norman.” You spoke softly. That was all he needed, He started crying, silently. He was convinced you were going to leave. Why wouldn’t you. He was a murderer. Goblin is part of him. You took a deep breath, the room was silent. He thought he was alone, he didn’t know if you opened the door and left and he fell to his knees. He allowed himself to cry, he didn’t just allow himself to cry. He cursed the Goblin’s existence.

“Norman.” You were in front of him now, crouching down. Facing him, seeing his pure emotion. It was rare to see him this way, and it pained you.

“I love you. Nothing is going to change that. I love all of you, Norman. That includes the Goblin. He can’t turn me away. Even if he tries. I hate that this is happening to you, and I don’t agree with the Goblin. Though that’s not going to make me leave You.” You were soft spoken. Now sitting on the floor next to him, he turned to cry into your shoulder. You ran your hand down his back in a gesture of reassurance.

“I love you.” He pulled himself as close as possible, not wanting to leave you. He looked up at you, with tear stains and glossy eyes. And just stared at you lovingly, as you wiped the tears from his face. You kiss his forehead then his cheek then his lips. Not to be passionate, or rough. But just to be. Soft, reassuring, and comfortable. It was so many raw loving emotions wrapped into one.

“I love you, Norman Osborn.”

Harry and Peter were discussing school, and you took the opportunity to look at Norman to check up on him. You weren’t telling Harry or Peter about the two of you. It has been the topic of conversation many times, between both you and Norman. When you both were alone of course. One day you planned to tell them both. There was a clink of glass from Norman, and he looked at you with a look you found comfort in. He was about to do something big, and he wasn’t going to be stopped, which proved that even the Goblin wanted it. They knew what they wanted since the day they both saw you. The times you had taken care of Norman after the Goblin had gone out, the times you put the Goblin in his place. It took work, and the Goblin was surprised you could even do so. Once he had everyone's attention on himself he put the glass back down.

“Harry, Peter.” Norman started, looking at the two boys then back to you. Searching the table for your hand. He was nervous.

“We. Such as myself and this wonderful human being sitting next to me have hidden something for quite a while. From both of you. And I no longer want it to be a secret.” He takes a deep breath reaching into his coat pocket. Turning to face you, moving his chair out so he could kneel. He took another deep breath and looked at you with a smile on his face.

“[Y/N] [Y/L/N]. I know I have been a pain. From secrecy, to research, to general situations. But, I,” He gives the look to you, the look that he also means the voice in his head. “I am, and will forever be grateful for everything you've done, and continue to do for Harry, Myself, and those around you.” He smiled, popping open the tiny black box. “Will you..” He chuckles nervously, as you stand finally realizing that he’s proposing to you. “Would you want to spend the rest of your life with me?” He takes another deep breath, keeping his eye contact with you. It all felt so fast, you didn’t have control of your happiness. You just stood there shaking your head ‘yes’ viciously, speechless. He grabs for your hand to put the engagement ring on your finger, and smiles getting back to his feet. You immediately go to grab his face and pull him in for a kiss, arms snaking around his neck when he kisses back. Peter and Harry letting you both have your moment. Standing there not completely sure where this had come from, Peter took a photo. Both you and Norman could care less. Once you pulled back and sat back down, with a massive smile plastered on your face. Norman and yourself were bombarded with questions from Peter and Harry.

“When did you two start dating?”

“A few years ago.”

“Dad, Why did you keep this a secret?”

“I didn’t think you could handle it.”

“Do you mind if I turn this photo into J.J Jameson?”

“Go ahead.” Both Norman and yourself said. You smiled, you didn’t mind if your relationship was publicized now.

“Dad. How did you manage someone like her?”

“Science.” He chuckled. The CEO of Oscorp throws big parties. It was half true, when you and Norman had first met you had a very intellectual conversion about science. The other half was through Parker. That’s why he wanted him there when he proposed.

The questions made everything so… real. Everything was real, all of a sudden you stood back up. Looking at Norman and taking his hand gesturing to get up. You pull him into a hug, a massive one. You came back down to earth. And you came back hard. You were even more in love with a man you thought you couldn’t love more.

#norman osborn x reader #gn!reader #marvel #norman osborn fanfiction #norman osborn #x reader #willem dafoe #spiderman #sam rami spiderman #marriage #fluff #angst #suggestive #established relationship

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sebastianstansqueen · 2 years

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He Rescues Her Right Back 2

A/N: I just finished writing this part, I hope you guys like it! As always Feedback is always appreciated if you want to be Tagged, either send an ask or comment on this or click on Taglist open.

Wordcount: 2,696

Warnings: Fluff, little angst, fear of highest, and I think that's it? I missed any thing tell me pleas!

Masterlist // Taglist open // Series Masterlist

Tags: @cherryblossomskye - @babylooneytoonz - @wonderlandfandomkingdom - @miraclesoflove - @amelia-song-pond - @leyannrae - @avengerlex - @pineprincess - @nik2writes - @dorothea-hwldr - @rosie-posie08 - @scxrletrecsmarvel -

The next morning you were abruptly woken by a phone call from your production team representative, you walked into the living room leaving Bucky be in bed. “Hello?” You asked, Alex started to explain what was going on, you paced back and forth while the phone call continued on.

Bucky walked in while you were on another phone call, but had a delicious breakfast laid out on the kitchen island, you sat at one of the stools, on the phone. “Okay, so what we need to do is move the shoot day to the thirtieth so that I can be there to monitor what's happening.” You spoke quickly, the conversation continued until your assistant had to go and help someone, you looked up at Bucky. “Morning.”

“I see you already got a start.” He smirked as he chewed on a piece of toast, pouring a glass of champagne. “So when is the uber coming?”

You sighed. “Fuck, I forgot.” You rolled your eyes at yourself.

“Hey look it’s alright, I can get one of my roommates to come get me.” He shrugged, continuing to get food off the plates.

Then your phone rang, it was Val. “Hey, so are you still planning on coming to the club thing this afternoon after your meetings?” She asked.

“Yeah, I mean some important clientele are going to be there.” You told her. Bucky stood up. “I’m gonna go wash up before I go.” He whispered as you nodded at what he said.

You walked away back to the bedroom to get ready. “Look Y/n, I don't like you going by yourself, you should have a date. I have a lot of hot guy friends. I could find you someone.”

You heard a low hum from the bathroom, walking in finding Bucky in the shower wearing a pair of airpods, you watched as he stood in the shower slightly dancing to the song. “No, I have someone in mind, I gotta go.” You hung up, then walked into the bathroom taking off the white fluffy robe you wore all morning, you got into the shower with Bucky, he finally came back to the real world taking out the earbuds. “I was wondering would you stay a few days?” You asked.

“What for?” He asked you.

You sighed. “I have a full week of things to do, and my friend and lawyer, Val, thinks I should have a date for them, think of it as a uh business proposition, and I’ll pay you for every night you stay.”

Bucky nodded. “Okay, yeah that’s alright, sounds great.” He smiled.

“So uh ballpark me how much is it gonna cost for the full week excluding tonight?” You asked, looking fully confident with your hands on your nude hips.

“8,000.” He stated.

“8,000?” You scoffed.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “You're asking for days too, so what does your math put you at?”

“Exact math would be, about 2,700.” You stated.

“Fine 5,000.” He huffed out.

You shook your head. “3,000.”

“6,000.” He went first. “4,000.” You shot back “7,000.” He stated.

You smirked.“Deal.”

“Holy shit!” He laughed.

You smiled laughing with the man.“Alright, I gotta get ready, and I’m gonna leave you some money to get a suit and some nice clothes, along with the money from last night.” You told him, before getting out.

You walked into the closet that you had all the clothes you packed, you chose a maroon shirt and gray pants to wear for the majority of the day. Up until you had to go to the country club thing that afternoon, you walked into the living room finding Bucky in the same clothes as the night prior, you walked over and handed him a wad of cash. “Here, as payment and for clothes.” You smiled at him.

“Jesus!” Bucky exclaimed at the thick wad. “I mean yeah I get three hundred an hour and that adds to like 1200-1800 up but there's gotta be like I dunno like 3,700$?”

You laughed. “4,266 exact, 2,4oo for the night, and 1,866 for clothes and a nice suit. I did my math and got the money this morning, I’ve gotta go but I’ll be back later.” You went to the elevator to head down.

“I would have stayed for 2700 you know.” Bucky spoke.

“And I would have paid 8,000.” You smirked just as the elevator doors closed in front of you.

Bucky was ecstatic at the deal, it was going to be worth it pulse he got new clothes basically for free, he headed down to the lobby walking towards the doors. “Sir.” He was stopped by a man. “One of the employees here last night told me you were up in Mis. Y/l/n's room last night with her look we uh don’t allow-”

“It’s alright, she and I are business partners.” He started walking away.

The man followed him. “If that’s what you wanna call it. Look sir, I’m gonna need you to leave, and don’t come back.”

“Look, you can call her and ask her.” Bucky changed direction’s heading to the front desk instead, the man left to call you, once there Bucky held the 2,400$. “Hey, uh my friend will be coming here while I’m gone to get it, will you give it to either Steve Rogers or Sam Willson.” The lady replied with a smile and a yes.

You were in a taxi figuring it would be the quickest way to your business brunch, when your phone rang. “Hello?” You asked.

“Hello, Mis. Y/l/n, this is Jarvis the l manager, there is a man here who says you are ‘business partners’.” He explained to you.

You nodded, sighing. “Uh yeah he’s James Barnes, he’s my current boyfriend we’re just trying to keep it under wraps right now, if he does need any help with anything, would you be willing to help?”

“Yes ma’am thank you for explaining, have a good day.” He replied before hanging up.

Bucky walked out of the hotel looking for a store, he walked into a random store and looked around, he walked up front to ask one of the women for help. “Hey uh i’m looking for a suit, like a really nice one.” He almost exaggerated.

The woman looked at him. “I’m sorry sir, I’m not quite sure we’re what you're looking for.”

“I-I mean you had men’s clothing up front I just assumed you would have suits.” He explained to her.

“We do, I just don’t think you’d have enough to get clothes from here.” She said judgingly.

“Whatever, just going to warn you, you just made a big mistake.” He warned before leaving once out of the store he walked away. After a few more failures he went back to the hotel empty handed, when walking in, Jarvis. “Look man now isn’t really the time.” Bucky told him.

“Mis. Y/l/n said to help you if you needed any and you looked a little long.” Jarvis said. “What can I do for you Mr. Barnes?” “I need a nice suit pulse some nicer clothing.” Bucky replied.

Jarvis nodded before dialing someone and talking to someone on one of the hotel's front desk phones, once off the phone, he walked over to Bucky. “Go to this address, my friend Maria will help you.”

Bucky left once again and got a taxi, the taxi pulled up to the nice building and Bucky paid the driver, before getting out, he walked into the building, when a strawberry blond woman walked up she looked maybe about fifty-sixty. “Hello, are you James?” She asked.

“Yeah, but just call me Bucky, are you Maria?” He asked, the woman nodded.

She smiled. “Let's find you some clothes.”

Later Bucky walked into the hotel once again, now wearing some of the clothes he bought, he rode up in the elevator to the room.

You were in a very heated phone call with a friend of yours who was also an associate, it calmed down. “It’s alright, okay, I’ll see you later today, bye.” The call ended, you turned to see Bucky standing there, in some of his new clothes, a white sweater shirt, along with gray pants similar to what you currently wore but less baggy and black loafers, the shirt defined your muscles, your eyes felt as though there was a trick being pulled on you.

“Do you like it?” He asked with a bit of hesitation.

You nodded. “Um y-yes I do like it, it looks goo-great.”

“What time are we going to the thing?” He asked, now smirking a little cocky knowing he made you flustered.

“Soon, I just gotta get dressed real quick, then we’ll leave, also we gotta drive the car again because I need to give it back to Val.” You explained, before heading towards the master bedroom.

“I’m driving, you scare me when you drive.” He called after you.

You laughed. “I was hoping you would.” Once in the master bedroom, you walked into the closet, pulled out a dress and shoes, kicked off your heels, then pulled the shirt over your head, and slid down your pants. You pulled on the black dress with the sheer sleeves, and the ankle boots on. You fixed your makeup so that it would match this outfit, it was a muted and natural look with lip gloss on your light pink lips, you walked out to the living room. Bucky looked up at you with a smile and you could see him taking you in. “Are you ready to leave?”

“Uh yeah.” He nodded, blinking a few times after staring.

The two of you rode down to the underground parking structure, Bucky put on his charm, he opened the passenger door for you, before you got in, and he followed getting in the driver seat, he started the nice car and started driving, putting the location in on the map on his phone, as he drove you looked at him. “So, I got the phone call from Mr. Jarvis, I’m not mad I promise, but in order to cover for you I said that we’re in a relationship and we’re just keeping it under wraps at the moment.”

Bucky smirked and side eyed at you. “I’m alright with that.” He said it slyly.

You rolled your eyes. “So, where did you get your clothes?”

“Jarvis helped me after a bunch of places turned me away, he had a friend help me choose it out.” He explained. “Um I did get a suit and this, but not much else.”

You nodded. “How about, tomorrow morning we go and get some other things for you and I, ‘take the morning off’.” You said with a quotation.

“What does that mean?” Bucky asked, confused.

You huffed a laugh. “We go get more clothes for ya’ and I’ll be there, but I will still be taking phone calls and stuff.”

“What? Y/n I really don’t need all this.” He said.

You nodded. “I know but I want to do this for you.” You smiled at him softly.

The two of you arrived at the club and parked, walking in, one of the older sons of a business partner, was playing polo in the background, Val came walking up. “Do you actually like this?” She asked about the men on the horses.

You side eyed her. “No, not really my sport, but whatever it’s the most entertaining thing here at the moment.”

“Really because that guy you brought seems to be the most entertaining to everyone else.” She arched her brow when looking at the man, you turned to see Bucky talking to a group of your friends, and you smiled.

“Excuse me, Y/n can I have a word.” The older man, about the age your father was, and you excused yourself from Val and followed the man. “How can I help you, Mr. Osborn?” You asked him with a polite smile.

“Well Mis. Y/l/n, I have a business proposition for you.” He offered as the two of you walking away from the group of people.

Bucky had gotten caught up in a conversation, while the person who he was speaking to spoke he looked up to try and find you, but you weren’t where you were before, he looked in different directions seeing you walking and talking with an older man, a cigarette between your soft lips, he excused himself walking towards you and the stranger.

“I would like to bring the companies together fifty fifty from both profits.” Normand spoke as you let the smoke slip though your lips.

“My lawyer Val could write up a contract, but first I’d like to know why would you want to combine?” You asked seriously.

“Because imagine what we could do bringing my scientist along with your engineers together, but what I also want to propose is no contract, I know you haven’t been able to find a partner as flexible as you need one to be, because I understand being work oriented, and so does my son, I was thinking what if you two marry one another to actually tie them together?” He offered.

You huffed. “Mr. Osborne, I and Harry have no common interest.”

“I mean your a large company owner, and he is learning to take over a large company and he-”

Bucky cut him off. “Hey, uh Y/n, people are looking for you.”

Osborne looked at Bucky. “Who is this Mis. Y/l/n?”

“I’m her boyfriend, I have been for a while now.” He lied to the stranger, having seen how right before he came up you looked uncomfortable. “I just couldn’t make it to the party yesterday because of an important meeting, James Barnes, now if you don’t mind my gal has some other important things she should get to.” He led you away.

Once far enough, you looked up at him with minimal irritation. “I had it under control.”

He arched his brow. “You did?” You nodded. “It didn’t look like that, what the hell was he saying to you?”

You huffed, more smoke coming out from your cigarette, in which Bucky took from between your lips and put it out, you glared up at him. “I was smoking th-” “No at the moment, besides I'm lookin’ out for ya.” He shrugged.

You rolled your eyes. “Anyways he was talking about a business deal, including me marrying his son.”

Bucky laughed. “Okay so now you think you're ready for marriage when you already don’t really know how to love people, and I thought you were smart, I’m joking you are, but thats a stupid idea as I see it, pluse isn’t he one of the guys on the horses?” You nodded. “Too snobby for you.”

The two of you got back to the hotel that night via a taxi, once in the room, you turned to Bucky. “Thank you I guess for pulling me away from the conversation, also there’s a dinner tomorrow, I did say a full week of stuff.”

“I know.” He smirked, he stretched. “Fuck I’m tiered, I’ll see you later.”

“Night.” You smiled at him.

Later you sat in a chair you brought from the living room looking at the night sky from afar sitting at the door of the balcony nursing a hard scotch, and a cigarette. Bucky came from behind you. “I thought you didn’t like heights.” He spoke up.

“As long as I don’t look forward or down, I’ll be fine.” You smiled at him, he walked onto the balcony and hiked himself up on the thick edge. “Please don’t.” You looked away out of fear.

“I’m fine.” He smirked, then got off seeing how discomforted you were by what he was doing. He kneeled in front of you, cupping your face. “Look I’m alright.”

You looked at him. “Never do that again.” You sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck, in a hug.

“Come on, let me take you to bed.” He mumbled into your hair.

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wtfhasmy-lifecometo · 2 years

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Torn Between

Pt.3

Requested: @my-lady-greensleeves

This is the last part and I really do hope you like this all ❤️ thank you for your faith and patience in me xx

This was, not what you were expecting, Otto’s breath hitched in his throat, you didn’t know what to think anymore, your voice muffled by the soft sweater that Otto was wearing, this kept you from sobbing even harder yet you could feel it all washing down onto you, making you want to cry harder, but you couldn’t, not now.

There was a second of silence before you heard a sigh of relief, “oh my dear, that’s nothing to be so upset over, I’ve actually felt the same way for quite some time.” Your breath hitched, you couldn’t believe it, Otto felt the same?! Your happiness cut short when you realized you still had more to confess, you looked up to see Norman sitting close by, running his hand on your back, attempting to sooth you to a degree. “Well, I… that’s where this gets more hard and confusing for me, and this is- this is where it gets much more difficult and sc- scary” your hiccups now present, “I’m, I’m also in love with you… Norman.” His hand stopped for a split second, before returning to its place.

Both of them looked at each other, both taken aback, you could feel Otto bring you even closer, “my darling… I’m not too sure why you didn’t tell us sooner, this is absolutely nothing for you to be upset about, if you had noticed, you’d see that we both feel this way, but I understand your hesitancy on this subject, it’s perfectly normal.” Otto did most of the talking, Norman sat back at let it happen.

“Sweetheart, as Otto said, this is nothing to be this way about, and, he is correct, I feel the same way about you too.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, you never thought this would happen, moreover this being a pathway to them also confessing. “I, I don’t know what to say, I, what do we do now?” You looked between the two of them, giving them quizzical gazes. “Weeellll, you could continue sitting here, upset and crying, ooorrrr you could make this situation become a real thing. It’s all up to you sweetheart.” Norman gave you a cheesy yet sweet grin, which in return, you gave him the same smile. “I guess I can say that I’d love to have you both as mine… as long as you would be alright with that, especially when it comes to sharing me.”

Your giggle causing a domino effect on them, as they had started giggling too, Otto was softly running his hand through your hair, you looked up at him to see his face contort into an expression, one of deep thought, “well, I’m not exactly one for sharing, neither is Norman, but I’m sure we can come to an agreement.” He looked down at you, giving you a toothy smile and a wink. Laughter erupting from your belly that you couldn’t help, you pulled yourself together and gave them both a kiss on the cheek, making them both blush like a madman. “Now that I’ve calmed quite a bit, what do you both say I make us some late night snacks, we fully talk this through, and you guys can stay the night since it’s going on 11 o clock at night.” And with that, your thoughts were no longer scathing ones, they were happy ones, you finally can breathe and be happy.

#norman osborn #norman osborn x reader #otto octavius fluff #otto octavius x reader #doc ock #doc ock x reader #green goblin x reader

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spacecadet-ticklesinspace · 1 year

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God I need some interaction between Peter 1 and Norman, tickles or not. it looked like they both got along well in the movie before goblin ruined it :’)

An Peaceful Night

Summary: See prompt above

(I didn't know about this one. This has nothing to do with you Anon or the prompt, Goblin did cause a lot of problems for the relationship between the two of these characters and that makes it hard to write a sweet interaction fic ❤️However, the idea was sweet and I did want to write something for you Anon ❤️ It's short, it's simple, but I hope you enjoy it :))

Norman Osborn stretched out his back and neck before switching off the light at his desk. He had had a mountain of paperwork to finish, but now it was finally done.

Once the lights were out, Norman grabbed his coat and locked the door behind him. "Okay, time to head home."

The drive home was quiet and peaceful with hardly any cars on the road. It was nights like these, with the dull flicker of neon lights and distant music pouring out of nearby clubs, that reminded Norman why he loved New York.

Thirty minutes later, Norman had parked his car in the garage of his home before he quietly headed inside. His son Harry had his three Peter friends visiting and Norman didn't know if they were asleep yet or not.

Something made him pause in the living room, and that's when he spotted it.

Curled up on the couch, was the littlest Peter Parker.

"Now what are you doing down here?"

The blankets stacked on the couch mixed with copious amounts of trash suggested the others had been here for a movie night.

Norman quietly crept closer. "Did you fall asleep during the movie?"

If he did, the older three moved to another room so they wouldn't wake him up. However, Peter 1 couldn't confirm or deny that theory while he was asleep.

Norman smiled. "As adorable as you look Peter, I assure you we have far more comfortable beds in the guest rooms upstairs."

One stretched out his legs, causing two little feet to pop out from under the blanket.

The older Osborn melted. When his Harry was little, he did the exact same thing. Granted, Harry was too tall for the blankets. One just appeared to wrap himself in such a way that the blanket had ridden up.

Norman carefully untangled the blanket before recovering the youngest Peter. "There we go."

Peter 1 instictively snuggled back into the blanket.

Norman cooed and gently lifted the youngest into his arms. Peter 1 stirred slightly but soon settled into the new position, allowing the older Osborn to carry him upstairs.

When Norman reached Harry's room, he peeked through the partially opened door.

"Get back here you!"

"Harry! Harry noho!"

A blur that looked like Peter 2 and another blur that looked like his son bolted past the door.

Off to the side, a separate voice called out, "Ruhun forest! Ruhun!"

"Shuhush Threhee!"

The older Osborn chuckled before looking back down at the teen in his arms. "Sounds like they still have some energy left to burn. They'll more than likely trample you in your sleep if you go in there."

Norman adjusted Peter 1 in his arms then headed down the hall. Instead of Harry's room, he opened the door to a separate guest room.

"Here we go, this is much better."

Three bags and a few scattered items showed this was intended for the three Peters to sleep in.

"No way the others are sleeping tonight," Norman commented as he pulled back the blanket. "So you'll have the entire bed to yourself."

Once settled in, Peter 1 instinctively curled onto his side. However, he seemed to stir and his arms slipped out of the blanket.

"Shhh, it's okay Peter."

One's arms started reaching for something. "Mmmm."

After scanning the room, Norman noticed a bear's head poking out of a nearby backpack. He scopped up the bear then slid it under Peter 1's arms. "Here you go."

With the bear in his hold, One immediately settled back into a deep sleep.

Norman felt his heart melt a little more. He thought back to when his Harry was this young. So many memories of a simpler time flooded his mind and filled his entire heart with warmth.

The older Osborn pulled the blanket over One's shoulders. "I told you Peter. Far better than the couch downstairs."

The youngest Peter smiled in his sleep.

In a moment of affection, Norman smoothed the blanket over Peter 1's shoulders and placed a small kiss on his temple. "Sleep tight Peter. See you in the morning."

Norman crept out of the room and quietly closed the door for the sleeping teen.

#peter 1 #norman osborn #fluff

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creelmalfoylaufeyson69 · 1 year

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Oh to just cuddle up with him and eat popcorn as we watch a movie together… that would be amazing

#norman osborn #willem dafoe #fluff things #fluffy #💚💚💚#my mind rn

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alwaysonlineau · 6 months

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alwaysonlineau main story — 2/?

parkner fluff and norman osborn hate. because that just makes sense, don’t you think?

previous | masterlist of links |

#alwaysonline: main story #alwaysonlineau #parkner #peter parker #harley keener #norman osborn #harry osborn #gwen stacy #ned leeds #betty brant #tony stark #james rhodes #ironhusbands

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hobie-enthusiast · 9 months

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FATES AND CANONS !

— hobie brown x gn!reader

— hobie brown and his six canon events

— angst, fluff, comfort, no happy ending (kinda?), petnames, major character death (twice, including reader), pretty long fic, might go against some comic canons, anarchist reader, cutesy kisses

— let’s play spot the tv girl reference 😜 anyway sorry for the delay ive been traveling, got sick, and now school starts next week, woohoo. so enjoy this for a little :)

The first canon event Hobie Brown experienced was being bitten by a radioactive spider.

But of course, that much is known. It’s the origin of every Spider-person in every dimension. That story has been over-told.

The real stories come from the preceding canon events, one that though every Spider-person goes through, it’s story-worthy each time.

—

The second canon event Hobie Brown experienced was the death of his best friend.

This friend was someone so dear to him, one he met at his lowest times on the streets. They picked each other up, helped each other out, and always had each other's backs. His best friend had big dreams just like him; stop the corrupt system of the Prime Minister and uplift the voices of the minorities. And his way of doing that was joining the police force, working on the inside to break it down and show others that the government is corrupt. Hobie had a friend on the inside, and together, they were able to stage protests and riots that were completely unbothered by the troops, thanks to his friend’s rank as captain.

Until he got infected with Norman Osborn's toxicity.

Hobie didn't realize it was him. He was bringing down those pigs left and right with his soundwaves, fighting for his side. He thought that there was no way he was in this. He was stronger than that.

But then he finished them all, and when the black goo disintegrated from the bodies, he saw that all-too-familiar person.

Hobie Brown had killed his best friend.

He was quick to run to his side, hands trembling. "Shit mate.. 't wasn't supposed t' be you."

"Hobie..?" His friend questioned, only then laughing quietly. "Hmm.. shoulda known my best mate t'was the coolest super in the world."

Quickly, Hobie moves his friend to a secluded alleyway, where he can take his mask off. There, his friend can see the way tears prick the corners of Hobie’s eyes. No one ever really sees him cry. This was a sight, a sad one at that.

"'m so sorry.." Hobie whispers.

His friend shakes his head. “Don’t be. Ya did good.”

Despite those words, Hobie couldn’t help but feel deeply guilty. He was just trying to do good? Why did this happen?

He was Spider-punk. Wasn’t he supposed to be able to save everyone?

“Ya gotta keep doin’ this.”

Hobie’s thoughts were interrupted as his friend grabbed his arm, gaining his attention. He was way worse looking than a couple seconds ago. Blood pooled around his stomach. Hands stained red from coughing it up. He wasn’t going to make it. Hobie knew that.

“Not killin’ your best friend, obviously.” He laughs at his own joke weakly. “But fightin’ for the people. They need ya, Hobie.”

Hobie nods in understanding. He promised him he would. It was always easier to make a dying person such bold promises. But Hobie could never give up on helping the people.

Even as his best friend takes his final breath, Hobie swore to protect the innocent. Even if he can’t save everyone, he’ll try his hardest.

Because that’s what he promised his best friend.

—

The third canon event Hobie Brown experienced was meeting the love of his life.

It was post concert; spirits were high and everyone was dying to meet the lead guitarist. Hobie’s onstage presence was something to marvel at, one that everyone adored.

You were no exception. You noticed the way Hobie was seemingly getting lost in the music. He was so passionate about his music, about what he performed. You admired that, truly. Not many musicians nowadays care about having a good onstage presence. Even with a band.

Lucky for you, your good friend was the bassist for the band. He was the one who invited you tonight, who wanted you to meet the band. He came out from backstage after the show and lead you to the dressing room.

“Alright mates, this is [Name].” Your friend points out each band member, stating their names before realizing something. “Aye, where’s ‘obie?”

His band didn’t seem to know, but you just shrugged it off. Though, you couldn’t deny the small sliver of disappointment that came with not meeting him. Soon, you excused yourself to grab some water, exiting the room.

What you didn’t expect was to run into someone.

“Crap, my bad. Didn’t see you there!” You immediately apologize, glancing up at the stranger.

Except it wasn’t a stranger. It was Hobie Brown. “‘s alright, swee’heart. No hard feelin’s.”

Hobie, after the show, decided to grab something to drink. He played a good show at the pub, so he rightfully thought he deserved it. But people were getting irritating, being touchy and pushy. He didn’t really appreciate that, and soon went backstage to find his bandmates.

When walking down the way, he said hello to a couple of the crew members. They were always considerate, doing their job correctly. Surely they deserve at least a wave and a verbal confirmation Hobie saw them.

Then, his spider-sense started tingling. Glancing around, he was quick to realize there was no true threat. But then he ran into you, and time seemingly stopped.

At the time, Hobie couldn’t describe the feeling of seeing you for the first time. It was like a part of him connected for the first time. You were a missing piece that he never knew he was even missing. But why did his senses go off for you?

“Actually, you’re Hobie, right?” You question, pointing up at him. “I’m a friend of the bassist in ‘ur band. It’s nice to meet you.”

Hobie muses. “Pleasure’s all mine, darlin’. C’mon, ‘ll take ya back t’ ‘em.”

The guitarist would be lying if he said he didn’t take you in the wrong direction for a little while. He wanted to get to know you more. And you weren’t complaining. Hobie was an incredibly charming guy.

The rest of the night was spent chatting with him. You couldn’t seem to leave him alone, and Hobie couldn’t keep his eyes off of you either. The two of you worked well together, and everyone in the band seemed to notice.

So Hobie slipped his number into your pocket, giving a kiss on your cheek. Bold, sure, but he had to make his move. Nobody has ever made him feel this way.

He can’t let you slip from his fingers.

—

The fourth canon event Hobie Brown experienced was giving up his mask.

Being Spider-punk was not everything Hobie cracked it out to be. He was constantly putting himself in danger, and you in the process. Everything was just so tiring. He couldn’t take it anymore.

He finally caught his breath after a confrontation, sliding down against the wall. He panted heavily, clutching tightly on his guitar. He barely made it out.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell..” He muttered, coughing and hacking.

Hobie Brown was tired of this. He stood up, taking off the parts of his suit that came undone. Searching for a nearby garbage, he found one. Then, Hobie simply shoved his suit into it messily.

Staring down at the bin, he slung his guitar on his back. Then he just.. walked from the alleyway, never taking a second glance back.

The walk back home to you was long, considering he didn’t swing there. But when he made it, he let himself into the door, placing his guitar on the table. His eyes caught you in his peripheral vision.

You glance from the counter, giving a smile. “Hey, Hobes! How was-” Your words fall short at the solemn expression he wore. “What happened?”

Your boyfriend stayed silent as he came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Nothin’.. ‘s all done..”

“Done? What do you mean?”

He sighs, face in your shoulder. Should he even-?

Of course he should.

“I gave it up. ‘m done bein’ Spider-man. A symbol.. or whateve’.”

You turn your body to face him, taking his hands to analyze him. You frown, eyes narrowing as he just stares down. When was the last time you saw Hobie so.. defeated?

Then, a sigh. “Hobes.. listen..”

You move your hands to cup his face, lifting him to face you directly. His tired eyes meet yours, and you give a smile.

“You can’t give it up. This is your favourite thing to do for the people.. Being their voice. But it’s okay to take breaks.” You start, gently stroking his cheek. “‘s not selfish.. you’re trying to be the best for them. To fight for them. But you can’t do that if you’re so tired, my love..”

Hobie chuckles quietly, leaning his head on your shoulder. “Always the wise one..” Is all he mutters.

You muse, rubbing his back gently. “Let me take care of you tonight. Please.”

“…mmkay...”

And you surely took care of him. You cooked for him. You cleaned up his wounds. You cuddled with him in bed. Anything to help Hobie feel better from such a long day. Even then.. from such a long and tiring career.

Hobie is so incredibly thankful for everything you do. The way you’re so tender with him. The way you just seem to know what to do to help him. You’re so incredible to him.

So he whispers a simple ‘thank you, swee’heart’ to thank you, finally letting his body rest and recuperate to continue his work in the coming days.

—

The fifth canon event Hobie Brown experienced was kissing the love of his life upside down.

It was cheesy, as Hobie and you could describe it. But he had just taken down some more corrupt government, seeing victory shine in his eyes. On top of that, he previously asked you to marry him, and you saying yes only added to his wonderful day.

Of course, your shared idea of marriage was different. In short, he put one of his rings on yours to be the symbol. The two of you would spend a day together, forge a silly little paper to say your married, sneak it in the courts, and call it a day. The perfect wedding for the perfect anarchist couple.

After his successful take down, he swung to the neighborhood you two lived in. It was quaint, you both preferred it that way. Somewhat safer as well.

He heard you earlier say you had to head to the corner shoppe, so that’s where he went. He lied on the rooftop with a perfect view of the entrance. Then, all he had to do was sit, and wait to see your pretty face walk out.

When you did, he turned himself upside down to hang on the side of the building, calling out to you. “Back from a day’s work of corrup’ gover’ment take down.”

You glance down the alleyway the voice came from, an amused smile cornering your lips. You glance around before making your way towards Hobie. Gently placing down the groceries, you glance up at him.

“Hope all that blood and ego doesn’t rush to your head, hanging upside down like that.” You tease.

“Can’t help how cool I truly am.” He replies, lowering himself so that he’s now at your level, still upside down. “You seem t’ think so too. Wha’s that on ‘ur finger, hm?”

“Geez, this gonna be a regular thing?” You fake a groan, hands finding placement on Hobie’s cheeks.

“‘s like y’know me so well..”

You stare at your fiancé for a while, just admiring him. The way he seemingly gave no care to anyone who judged him. He lived so freely, teaching you how to follow after him. Hobie Brown was so magnificent.. and here he was, at your every whim.

Before you knew it, your fingers began taking off the lower bit of his mask. Rolling it up, to reveal his beautiful lips, lip piercing shining in contrast to his beautiful skin.

“Wha’s this for?” He questions, hands holding tightly onto your now dropped ones.

You smile. “Such a.. silly reason, I’m afraid.” You mutter, leaning into his body. “I just wanted to kiss you..”

Then you lean in, kissing Hobie gently. His lips immediately match yours, taking in the warmth you provide. The kiss is so loving.. so incredibly beautiful. It is your first engaged after all.

Even when you pull away, a smirk plays at his lips. He brings his hands up to cup your face, pulling you in for another long kiss. He just can’t ever get enough of you.

Hobie never did believe in canon events. Of course he’s experienced so many with you now. But he can’t help but still keep his belief away from the idea. Because that could lead to your demise.

And Hobie will be damned if you die on him.

—

The sixth canon event Hobie Brown experienced was losing the best thing to ever happen to him.

It was a protest gone wrong. You both agreed to march the front lines, to protest for a better living wage for the lower class. Something the two of you have been fighting for for months on end.

Government never liked protests.

Of course, they sent their force to shut it down. To “stop any future damage”. But that was only a front. The pigs sent down actually stormed the crowd of protesters, putting their hands on anyone they could find.

Hobie quickly took on his Spider-punk role, defeating anyone he can before it happened. He saved a ton of lives, swiping them away from the police before webbing the bad guys to buildings. Things were going good for him. Until the explosion.

He just landed on a building to try and observe who still needed help. His eyes caught you shoving down a cop onto the ground, and his smile under the mask grew. You glanced up at him, giving your own smile, and a wave.

Hobie was about to swoop down to come grab you, but the cop got up, through his explosive to the ground. It rolled right next to your feet.

“Shit! [Name], watch-!”

But his words were too late. The explosion sent you flying into the side of a building, back thrown against it harshly. Almost everyone began scrambling after that, running from the scene. But not Spider-punk. He immediately made it to you, picking up your weak body.

His breathing picked up. “No.. no, ‘s not like this. Jus’, hang on.” He whispered over and over, swinging to a nearby rooftop.

You groan, already feeling the crimson liquid leak from your head and stomach. Everything was blurry, like a daze. Yet Hobie’s face was clear and recognizable. Even under his mask, he showed such obvious signs of worries, even regret.

Eventually, he drops his own body to the ground, yanking his mask off. His hands immediately hold your again.

“Damn.. just like.. that, hm?” You managed, body already showing the signs of shutting down. “Hurts, y’know?”

“Don’’ you dare give up on me.” Hobie muttered, ripping off the sleeve to his suit. “‘s all gonna be fine.”

You laugh weakly, head thrown back. “Dunno if I’ve got a choice, Hobes..”

With careful fingers, Hobie ties his sleeve around the wound. He didn’t want to hurt you more, but the bleeding had to stop before getting any worse. A small part of him knew it was hopeless. Futile, even. He was almost back in the beginning. When he was barely starting out in his duties, and he failed to save his good friend. Now he failed to save you. Here you were, dying in his arms.

Hobie took a deep breath. “Ya can’t.. swee’heart, c’mon..”

“Don’t be sad, Hobes..” You whisper, hand finding his cheek. “I wanna see you smile..”

Of course you would request that, only you. He gives such a weak laugh, one that brings the best smile he can manage. But it quickly turns back to sadness.

Then, a smile graces your face. “God.. I love that smile..” You whisper, coughing weakly. Blood seeps through the cloth on your stomach. You were losing it.

“‘m gonna miss ya, swee’heart.. s’much..” Hobie says, tears falling from his eyes.

“I know, Hobes.”

Hobie doesn’t remember the last time he let himself cry like this. Maybe when he was a kid? When his best friend died? Who knows. But now, now his tears wouldn’t stop flowing, nose sniffing over and over again.

Why can’t you just stay?

“I have’ta go..” You say sadly, almost as if reading his thoughts. “Don’t you dare.. stop bein’ a hero, ya hear? I’ll rise just to smack you..” Were your next words, almost as if reprimanding him.

Once again, Hobie laughed his quiet laugh. “Well now I neve’ can.. Jus’ f’you..” He says in a whisper.

You feel your breathing start to fall short, coughing and hacking. Hobie holds you tighter, whispers of “I love you” and “I’ll miss you” exchanged over and over.

“I love you.. Hobie Brown..” Were your last words. “My Spider-punk..”

And then.. you were gone. Just like that.

—

“Hobie? Hobie!”

Gwen had to call out to him a mere three times before he came back to. His eyes shut and opened as he remembers where he was. Right, Spider-society. Gwen and him were walking and chatting.

“Righ’, sorry Gwendy.”

Gwen waves it off. “Don’t even worry. Anyways, I heard about a couple new recruits.”

Hobie listened to his younger friend talk and talk, but his mind was elsewhere. Today was a particularly.. memorable day. He just couldn’t seem to get you out of his head. Normally Hobie wouldn’t complain.. but he misses you.

His thoughts circle him too much, and next thing he knows, he bumped into another Spider-totem.

“Crap, my bad. Didn’t see you there!”

…what?

Hobie knows that voice. Of course he does. He glances down at the stranger, finally seeing the face he missed so much. The face his nights yearned to see again. The face he missed screaming and supporting him at his concerts. The face of you.

“…uhm, are you okay? Oh my god I didn’t hit you that hard, did I?”

Gwen glanced back from her spot, noticing the scene occurring. Her eyes widen. Oh no..

She immediately walks to the two of you, chuckling awkwardly. “Hey! So sorry, he’s in a little daze today! C’mon Hobie!”

You glance up at the guy again, finally getting a good look at him. But he’s just staring. His eyes are seemingly.. longing. They’re lonely, that much you can tell. He has a demeanor about him.. one that reminds you of someone. Even his face looks familiar.. wait!

“What a coincidence!” You suddenly say. “My boyfriend’s name is Hobie! From my dimension at least.”

Hobie finally snapped from his trance, your words reaching his ears. “How.. coinciden’al..” He whispers.

“Well.. it was nice to meet you, Hobie.” You smile, offering out a hand for him to shake. “Hope t’ see ya around!”

He shakes your hand and.. oh does the contact feel so good. But he doesn’t linger. Hobie simply watches you walk off, that same cheerful demeanor reflecting in your every step.

Of course it felt like you got away again. And he had almost no doubt that the Hobie you love so dear will meet a demise. But he’ll stick with you. Stick with being your friend and being there when you need him.

Because Hobie would walk through this pain a thousand times if it meant you were in his life again.

#NEW ARTICLE || OUT NOW !!#hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #hobie brown #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #atsv #atsv x reader #atsv hobie

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lexlightning2002 · 2 years

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The wrong universe

Part five

Part 4 - Part 6

Angst incoming!

But also Fluff and sweetness alert! They FINALLY HUG😩💕 Norman definetely needed this <3

Tags: @thessm04 @huffle-ego @elderlyfish @greenmenace @rubbish78 @s1lvervultur3 @friendlyneighborhood-spiderblog @not-ur-mamas-mothman

#otto x norman #octogoblin #octoblin #otto octavius #norman osborn #fanart #fan comic #fanfiction #the wrong universe #they finally hugged!#green goblin #doc ock #green goblin x doc ock #fluff #angst

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indouloureux · 2 years

Text

scratching : countertops¡ (stargirl interlude)

"I had a vision A vision of my nails in the kitchen Scratching counter tops, I was screaming My back arched like a cat, my position couldn't stop you were hitting it And I shouldn't cry, but I love it, Starboy..."

༻✦༺ . ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧

summary: peter's been your roommate for years, and you know that the rooms are filled with thrifted furniture and unsolved tension. when you find yourself eating pineapples beside him one night, you don't expect to be bent over the counter with his (sticky, dexterous) hands.

word count: 6,482

warnings: graphic writings of smut (MINORS DNI), mentions of blood, fluff, maybe a little angst (extended warnings below the cut)

a/n: hi. hope you all like this unholy smut. hope we're all forgiven. here's you being peter's pretzel with three holes lol

MASTERLIST

༻✦༺ . ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧

extended warnings: face-fucking, oral (m and fem receiving), ass/anal play. degradation and praise kink. unprotected sex, (don't be silly, wrap your willy), creampie. toy usage (vibrator wand), rough sex, man handling, biting, body-guard/doggy position, cum-dumpster!reader, and poorly written smut :)

༻✦༺ . ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ . ༻✧༺

This was all Harry’s fault.

I hope Oscorp burns to the ground and you lose all your money so you’re forced to live with me, you bastard.

Rationally, Harry had offered to help Peter pay for the apartment (without malice; he knows Peter’s not that poor). But ever the independent, he refused. So he couldn’t possibly understand why he was so upset that his friend was leaving to get his own apartment that he found was better than the one they used to live in.

Guaranteed, it wasn’t the type Osborn had grown into – waking up right to ruckus outside the building, bird shit sometimes reeking from the fire escape, a slim shower rather than a tub – and Peter was forever thankful Harry never complained and had adjusted to the type of lifestyle Peter grew up into.

But he wanted to move out. Move into an apartment near Oscorp and campus. Because he’s not the one swinging there within three minutes.

(Peter had offered swinging together with Harry. He refused. Says he’s afraid of heights and makes him…question. Peter doesn’t know what he means. Unless-)

So now here he was, on the internet lately advertising on some dodgy website that he's seeking for a new roommate. He doesn’t mind, though. If he ends up with a murderer, they’ll most likely be in jail the second they step in.

But he’s set up some rules. Peter liked boundaries, and he most certainly liked people who knows how to properly clean the bathroom, remembers their keys, doesn’t bring random people in without permission, doesn’t put marijuana in brownies when baking, and doesn’t produce the nastiest smell around the apartment.

He hesitates on the brownies portion. While he certainly relishes eating chocolate-flavored cannabis, Harry is the only one he knows how to prepare the baked confection. So Peter wouldn’t mind if his new roommate knew how to make them, as well.

Behind him, Harry grunts as he places the last box on the coffee table. It’s labeled ‘The Den equipment’ in a deep red marker written on top of masking tape. He frowns because it’s not the cardboard type, but rather a black box with stripes of metal on its corners. It rattles when Harry places the box on the table, like something heavy fills the chest.

“What’s that?” Peter points at the black chest, his arm resting on the wooden back of his chair. His other hand taps on the keys of his keyboard, but never pressing out to type a letter. “That’s new.”

“It’s not,” Harry chuckles, running a hand through his thin hair. Peter thinks his hairline’s receding due to the lack of thickness in Harry’s hair, other than the fact that Norman Osborn’s on the verge of balding. “I’ve had this since freshman year.”

“High school?”

“College,” snorting, he unlatches the black chest, the soft clicking reverberating in Peter’s ears. “Can you imagine high school me with these things? I’d be an absolute klutz with these things.”

Peter pushes his chair out, sauntering his way towards his friend. He curiously peeks over Harry’s head, seeing folded silk at the upper left corner, followed by a cluster of pink, purple, and black items in weird shapes and curves that hits familiarity in the deep depths of his risqué mind.

That’s when he realizes that they’re “Vibrators,” Peter says out loud, blushing. Though, given the few women he's been with, he can ensure that he's no stranger to such titillating forms of intimacy. His expertise is kept entombed; locked away not out of shame, but the key’s saved for someone he desires to show the doors to.

“Not just vibrators,” Harry’s tongue makes an amused click, his finger tracing the lid. “I’ve got a whole lot of shit here. Bought it all when I turned twenty-one, remember?”

“I don’t think I do,”

“Of course you didn’t. We were drunk out of our minds,” he pats Peter’s back, looking up at him. His smile is proud, like he’s feeling triumphant about the fact he’s being all Christian Grey at the age of twenty-one. “Explored so much with this, I’m proud to say I orgasmed at the fuckin’ Bermuda Triangle.”

Peter shakes his head, a boyish laugh leaving him. “That’s a lie.”

“Obviously,” he turns to look back at the hedonistic pursuits that fills the chest. Harry’s hand digs deep between the vibrant toys, and Peter wonders how unsanitary that must be, regardless if Harry’s ever cleaned them. He pulls out something Peter’s familiar on:

The wand’s body was a rich shade of crimson, similar to the one on his suit. However, its bulbous head dons itself in black rather than blue that matches his renowned attire. The colors match, nonetheless, and he does see that the buttons are round in baby blue.

“Tell you what,” Harry places the wand in Peter’s palm, and god does he hope it’s cleaned. “Take this as an apology. For leaving you. And a gift, because you deserve it.”

With burning cheeks, Peter scratches the back of his ear with his vacant hand. “I always thought this stuff happens in older women’s birthdays.”

“Vibrators are for all!” He roars, pleased with his erotic manifesto.. “Nothing wrong with wanting something to make you squirt, am I right?”

“Now that I think about it, I think I’m pretty glad you’re moving out,”

“Now now, brother. It’s time you face independency,” Harry smacks the chest shut, securing the latch before carrying it in his enormous palm, followed by the quiet jingle of his keys from his pockets.. “I’ll miss you, my best friend.”

He walks Harry out with an arm around his friend’s shoulders, opening the door for him. Peter rolls his eyes at the dramatic pout he gives him. “You’re only ten minutes away.”

Peter hears a small ping in his laptop when Harry leaves. With his receding footsteps, Peter sits back at the chair in front of his old laptop, seeing a message had popped up out of the corner of the screen. The circular icon is accompanied with a red dot on the side, and a blurry picture of a girl with their dog.

Hi! Heard you were looking for a new flat mate?

⋆

This was all Harry’s fault.

Peter can feel his heartbeat in every part of his body: his legs, his ears, his eyes, his hands, and his fucking dick. It's making him feel unsettled, perhaps moreso than Harry's expedition yesterday. Overstimulation is something he was never grateful for when he got bitten, and it had picked out the worst times to throw a tantrum.

You’re expected to be arriving in a few minutes, and he looks like a wreck. His jeans now have a damp spot on his thighs from constantly wiping his sweaty palms. Neophyte limbs forgetting their decorum, Peter walks around his apartment like a lost child, tugging on his unruly hair. His nerves are forming a connivance against its paladin, spasmodic nervousness ticking him off every minute that passes by.

Anamnesis, you weren’t the first to text Peter about the vacant room adjacent to his. Between your icon were two other guys – a man, seemingly in his 40’s with a beard like Seneca Crane’s with a fashion style like a hiker’s, and a guy his age with a badly bleached blonde hair and the mustiest mustache he’s ever seen. It was obvious his choice was you: not because of the ambiance he’s felt from the two other guys, or the fact that you’re a girl, but because…well…

He’s just about to find out.

Think of the stars. Count them in the darkness from the back of your eyes. There’s Alpha caeli, zeta arae, gamma camelopardalis –

The stars are far from their constellations. Peter panics at the fragmented dulcification, clenches and unclenches his trembling fists. Forsooth he blames the sudden overstimulation. And for the third time that week, he curses the radioactive spider.

Peter jumps when he hears the doorbell ring, louder than it should have. He shakes his head to push the erratic beating away from his eyes, walking careful steps to the door that further awaits being opened.

The door opens, and you look at him with an innocent smile.

Like a beautiful, tragic calamity, the star in his heart bursts into a supernova. Galactical seas of purple, blue, and yellow mercurially imbue him before it’s overtaken by the destructive inferno of the ultraviolet star. It swells his throbbing organ, embers withering off into the galaxy.

“Hi,” your voice blows the supernova away, and he returns back to earth where he’s physically in. Peter blinks, patting his hands on the back of his thighs before he remembers he looks like absolute shit. But you don’t seem to mind.

“Um.”

“I’m (y/n),” you don’t give him your hand to shake, but the nervous smile on your face indicates you’ve got the same sweaty hands as he does. “I’m here for-…for the interview?”

Peter nods, too rapid that he shakes his brain. He steps aside with a smile that mimics yours as you gladly step in after you wipe your shoes on the rug.

You take in the apartment well. It’s cleaned – the lack of dust shows he might have cleaned before you arrived. The three-seater couch fits well in the living room, the TV large enough to not strain your eyes. The décor contrasts well to the alabaster walls, and the fact that Peter had decorated this himself seemed surprising because you should definitely see his room back at Aunt May’s.

The whole apartment smells nice. Like freshly baked cookies that makes your mouth water. You don’t realize Peter’s still got his eyes on you until you sit down on the chair placed randomly in front of the couch.

“So,” he speaks out, a waver in his voice as he sits on the couch. He forgets to tell you he’s supposed to be the one on the chair, but all his thoughts dissipate into a blubbering mess. You don’t mind the chair, anyway. “Why are you looking for an apartment?”

That was not the first question.

You answer him, either way. “I wanted to move out of the dorm I stay in at campus,” he can hear the sound your nail makes when you chip them. “I guess, out of some sudden urge to move deeper into independence?”

“Okay,” he drags out his ‘y’, remembering the next question. “How are you with bathrooms?”

It’s obvious his question confuses you, because it confuses him too. “Hm?”

“I’ve never done a good job cleaning the bathroom. So I was wondering if you’re…any good…at cleaning them?” he feels stupid, like he’d asked a sexist question. Peter’s unsure if he did, because your expression is unreadable.

(“Is this guy serious?”)

“I do good, I guess. I’ve never been a fan of dirty bathrooms so I’m very fastidious when it comes to cleaning them.”

He nods. “And smoking?”

“I smoke.” You smile a little. “A lot. Like, my friends had to make an intervention for me with a big poster that had two versions of lungs, the other was what my lungs were going to look like if I didn’t stop smoking. I- sorry. I talk too much.”

“’s all right,” he chuckles. “I smoke a lot too.”

Your shirt exemplifies the contours of your breasts while emphasizing their size. He attempts to pull his gaze away, but instead finds himself tracking his gaze down to the button of your jeans to your thighs, calves swinging and almost brushing his. Peter swallows deeply.

“Do you, uh, not mind living with a guy?”

Incredulous, you let out an angelic laugh. “Well, I’m here, aren’t I? Look…Peter-” you remember his name from the ad; remember how you repeat his name in your head like a mantra. “- I don’t mind if you take home girls, or guys. I just need a place to stay. I can’t promise I’ll pick up dirty laundry all the time, and I can’t cook for shit nor can I make this place squeaky clean. But I can give you a hell of a good time—God, that sounded prostitute-y.”

Your nervousness sedates him tremendously, and he laughs heartily at your ramble. Peter shakes his head, sitting back to sink into the couch with crossed arms and an endearing smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Not prostitute-y, just...a twinge of an innuendo,” he reassures. “Well. I’ve got a few flaws myself. Like, I can’t explain why I have sudden bruises in my face.”

“What? Are you like, in a mob or something?”

He shrugs. “Maybe. Maybe not,” Peter blushes when you laugh. “I can’t promise you I’ll be clean. This apartment you’re seeing? This is only to persuade you. And you don’t need to worry, I know how to cook, and I don’t bring home random people at night.”

“Just random people’s blood?”

A violent question that he founds oh-so-funny. “Yes. Not dead people’s blood. So you don’t have to worry about that.” Peter watches you sink onto the wooden chair. You pick at the lpse thread of your jeans, twirling it around your fingers before you pull it off.

“As long as I don’t hear loud moaning, I’m fine.”

Your smile is teasing, curved like the Eastern Veil Nebula that’s vibrant and pretty. Dimples apodictic like Peter’s deep laugh that bequeaths you happily silly.

Peter’s unbridled with scrawny handsomeness. His half-lidded gaze has your cheeks burning like the sun, hot enough to render you queasy and yet again nervous. But when he wipes his hands on his thighs and stands up with his hand raised for you to shake, your nervousness ebbs away.

“Feel free to move in whenever you like.”

⋆

899 days pass.

This was all Harry’s fault.

Peter stands outside your open, desolated bedroom. Your bed is made, the LED's on your vanity are switched off, and your make-up is adroitly piled on the edge. It's sanguinely clean, in contrast to his bedroom, which has his filthy clothing placed on top of a chair that has yet to be cleaned.

He likes that even if you’re gone, your room still smells like you – tobacco, vanilla, and the faint scent of wet leaves from the plants by your window. Peter did you a favor and watered them, after being dry for almost three days because you were in too deep into your school works.

He takes one final glance, particularly at the frame mounted beside the window: it was you and Peter at some Halloween party around a year ago. And while you were clad in a skin-tight black outfit with cat ears, he came as Spider-Man (oh, the irony). He donned a store-bought suit, but had pondered wearing his authentic suit since everyone would be too drunk to notice.

With Harry at the far left in a police costume and a fake mustache (and his chest sweaty and exposed), Peter has his arm around your shoulders, hugging you tightly to his chest with his mask in his hand, smiling drunkenly. You held a cup in your hand, nails long and lithe, head on his shoulder with a scrunched nose and an inebriated, slanted grin.

Pallid at the longing for you, he finally descends your bedroom and closes the door behind him. Peter sighs, scratching the spot behind his ear, half-expecting for his phone to ping at any sign of you.

He's bored out of his mind and decides to have a look about. The flat has altered; it no longer exhibits Harry's bachelor nature, but rather an amalgamation of things you both adore that fit together like a constellation, with furnishings thrifted and adapted to meet the selected ethos.

It's pretty and optimistic, much like you. Peter enjoys being immersed by you, yet he still can't get enough and craves more.

Living with you was easier. You never brought home people, and if you were with one, you’d be gone ‘till the next day, respecting Peter. He’d do the same, however his dates had become a once in a blue moon; something felt missing and it just wasn’t it.

He likes how caring and pristine you are, how you’re comfortable with being a mess around him. And he likes how he feels around you, too. Peter doesn’t need to worry about going home late at night because, tl;dr, you already knew, and you didn’t mind patching him up ever-so often with all your dexterity.

You don’t mind his nightly throes, you don’t mind his blood between your fingers that he washes away, you don’t mind his cheeky smile, or his flirty jokes, or his past, or who he is.

And Peter likes that.

(He also likes the fact that you’re so fucking hot he feels like he’s floating happily in space when you wear those tight mid-riffs and above the knee skirts. Even when your shirt is stained with your agitated tears and your loose sweatpants.)

Startling him, his phone pings loudly in his pockets. Peter groans when he reaches for it, fingers still trembling from the tremendous ache he still feels from the previous night. Clumsily, he pulls his battered phone out, seeing a text from you.

(y/n): coming home in ten xx

Peter smiles in excitement, maybe even almost jumping in his place like a giddy little child. He takes on the liberty to fix the place a bit, and patiently waits for you on the couch, scrolling mindlessly on his phone.

You arrive in less than 10 minutes. The rush in your footfall, which he could hear from distance, gave the impression that you were eager to see him, and your quick heartbeat indicated your excitement. You open the door with a tired smile, your outfit a little askew and your purse half-zipped.

Then he remembers you just came from a date and he probably wasn’t the reason behind your smile.

“Hey doll,” your heartbeat quickens at the sobriquet. “How was your date?”

Peter ignores the ache in his heart that his words gave; tries to hide the jealousy his question bore as you answer him. “Fucking sucked. He’s like Harry, but with little to no respect.”

“Harry’s not that bad,” he chuckles, standing up abruptly. His wounds open a little, and Peter tries to hide the discomfort through his smile, not wanting to worry you.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. He just really sucked,” you throw your purse on the couch with a sigh. “Bet you heard how fast my footsteps were, though. Couldn’t wait to get home.”

Smiling, he teases you. “I’m flattered, (y/n).”

“Yeah yeah,” you smack his chest lightly with the back of your hand. He follows you to the kitchen, watching you remove your shoes as you walk through, throwing it aside and decided to clean it later, maybe the next day.

The floor is cold beneath your bare feet, sending shivers up your spine. Your dress shines beneath the dim luminescence of the kitchen light, a star desolated in the middle of the galaxy that Peter’s got his eye on. The white glow of the refrigerator light reflects on your face, bending over to take out a bowl of pineapples.

Even still, Peter follows you as you take a seat on the countertop, swinging your feet as you take the cling wrap off the glass bowl and take the fruit between your fingers, taking a bite.

Peter takes one too, standing in front of you with his back resting against the wall adjacent to you. “Tell me about the date,”

You look at Peter. There’s a side of you that hopes he can show just how jealous he is through his curious gaze, and the other aching for you to just call him out. “Like I said, it was bad,” you shrug, chewing on the fruit. “First, he was ten minutes late.”

He makes a hiss out of judgement. “One point taken.”

“Then he wore the most absurd thing ever. Well, not absurd, but he made me look like I was too overdressed. He wore short khakis, Peter,” your eyes widen. “Short khakis. And, I don’t know, a nyan cat shirt.”

“A nyan cat?”

Peter reaches out for another pineapple, and you hand him the bowl. “A fucking nyan cat. Who wears that to a date?”

He chuckles at your agitation despite the fact that he shouldn't. When Peter says he's thrilled about how poorly your date went, it sounds awful. He doesn't love the sadness, but he does appreciate the fact that you're still open.

He hopes you know what he means.

“I’m sorry your date went bad, (y/n),” his heel kicks him off the wall, his vacant hand reaching out to rub the tense muscle on your right shoulder. Peter smiles when he sees you visibly relax beneath his touch.

“No you’re not,” you smirk, closing your eyes for a moment. “You’re not sorry.”

“You’re right,” he pulls his hand back. “I’m not.”

A meteor of unforeseen confidence, Peter steps closer and stands between your legs. Your dress rides up, set halfway on your thigh. He still chews on his pineapple, his eyes on yours as you gradually peel your eyes open.

Irises like Ara, his knees weaken at your unsanctified eyes. You know the place is filled with thrifted furniture and unresolved, salacious tension that fills your head with ribald imaginations you think will Peter never let you go for. It’s wrong to imagine him take you anywhere in your shared apartment, bending you over and take you from behind, spitting out such unholy things that get you wetter and sweeter at each dulcet word he releases in your ear.

“Why’d you go on that date, anyway?” he murmurs, lips wet from his tongue that licks the delectable taste of pineapple.

You pop the last piece in your mouth. “Thought I could find a good fuck,” Peter’s unsurprised by your bawdy confession, getting used to conversations like these. “It’s been a month and I need to release my stress.”

The bowl is behind you. Peter reaches for the dish, his chest meeting yours and his nose just by your eyes. You smell him – cigarettes, faint blood, cinnamon; it brings a hot pool between your legs, and you clench your thighs together.

You shouldn’t be that horny. It’s just cinnamon. And cigarettes. And blood.

He pulls back with a pineapple between his lips. Peter bites, chews and swallows, and says, “Couldn’t you have approached me?”

Well, cat’s out of the bag. No take backs.

Peter perceives you fluster beneath his gaze from the Freudian slip, an abdication between bravado and modesty. Your body tries to acclimate at his raunchy reply, uncertain of how to react. When you opt to unwind and shrug, drawing closer, the tension crescendos into a pinnacle.

“Wouldn’t have been appropriate,”

“How so?”

“Well, we’re flat mates,” you take a bite. “We live together. We’re practically like siblings.”

He deflates, a wave of un-comfort and humor. “Please don’t say that. It’s gross.”

“I’m sorry,” you chuckle, placing a hand on his bicep. You feel his scar through the thin fabric of his shirt, puzzling in just right on your palm. “I’m saying, flat mates don’t fuck.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Says who?”

“The principles of sex and love,”

“And who made that?”

“I did,” you smile up at him, cheeky. “I made it ever since I hooked up with my roommate back at campus.”

“Is that why you moved out?”

Hesitance halters your words, but you give in a second later. “Yes. Because I wanted to be with her and she didn’t. And I made it awkward and I couldn’t handle it so I moved out.”

Your finger traces the crevices of his biceps, dipping in the curves of his scars of heroism. Peter’s eyes never leave your curious face. “Do these principles count to a guy?”

A shrug. “I don’t know,” you murmur.

The boy is enamored by the taunting, tempting glance you give him. You're a sui generis edgier force in your own right. A burgeoning stargirl in the creation. A woman who is eclectically spurred by autonomy and utilizes confidence as your new power. You're valiant, and your origins are vast.

“You want to try it out?”

You take a bite of your pineapple, and release the sweet fruit with the gentle sound of your suckle. Peter's sense of sight dials up even higher, watching the visual that makes him lick his lips unconsciously.

(And to you, the sight of the thick muscle escaping his unholy mouth sends heat to the altar between your legs, kneeling before you with a mouth that begs atonement; a mouth that aches to taste you.)

Peter wipes the juice from the corner of your lips with his thumb, then raises it to his mouth and sucks the exquisite ambrosia from his skin, and he swears he can taste you. You all but moan, biting your lip. “You fucking drive me insane," he murmurs as he traces your wet lips with his thumb. Your mouth ajar, following his movements before he presses his thumb onto the pad of your tongue.

You suddenly forget the stupid principle in your head, too driven by the arousal that agitates your skin. Peter pushes his thumb deeper until you gag around him, and he pulls his thumb out when you look up at him lustfully.

Leaning in to graze your lips on the lobe of his right ear, you card your fingers through his thick hair, tugging slightly. You smirk when he moans quietly. “Fuck me good then maybe I’ll change my mind.”

The mood switches. Like the warm light turns scarlet red, darkening the dusk in your physiques, Peter plants a hard kiss on your lips. The flavor of pineapple exchanged through heavy breaths and explored tongues, probing his muscle in your mouth. His hands wander up to hold you small face in his large palms, yours pulling on his neck.

His lips are soft in juxtaposition to his rough handling, pulling you closer to his chest. Peter’s hands pull on the zipper at the back of your dress, almost ripping it off out of eagerness. You gasp when he does so, calloused skin caressing your soft back.

“Taste so fucking good,” he growls against your lips. “Had to wait two years for this. Why’d you make me wait, princess?”

Your clothed crotch grinds on the prominent bulge aching to pop out, smirking when he moans again. “Mm, but you liked it, right? Thought you liked waiting? The tension?”

“Fucking tease,” he chuckles, biting your bottom lip. “You feel that baby? Feel how hard you made me? Got me feelin’ like a fuckin’ virgin; like I’ve got a goddamn rock inside my sweats. I’m aching for you."

Hungry hands palm him, pumping him through his sweatpanrs. “I can fucking feel it,” you purr. You feel it go slightly damp, and when he feels it, too, Peter tugs your hand away. His other hand pulls on your hair, a moan escaping your lips when he does so. “Looks like you’re not the only one who’s wet.”

Peter’s eyes darken, his supernova turns into a black hole of lust and starvation. His hands roughly palm your right breast, rolling his thumb over your hardened nipple through your dress. Finally, he pulls the strap down your shoulder, leaning in to bite on your collarbone.

“You want a taste?” he taunts you as you pull on the strings of his sweats. “Get on your knees, then.”

It’s amusing how quick you obliged, letting your dress fall down to the ground. Peter’s eyes land on your exposed chest, lips wanting to wrap themselves on your pebbled buds, but unable to because you sink to the ground, your knees holding you up.

Peter pulls his sweats down, followed by his shirt, smelling the arousal that ruins your underwear. You gasp quietly at the lack of briefs he’s wearing, cock springing up to slap on his stomach.

He is achingly hard, with the tip swell and red, leaking of pre cum. You lick your lips, nails scraping against his thighs before you boldly lick a stripe from his shaft to the tip, sucking on the head.

Effervescently, Peter lets out a sound between a groan and a whimper, the sound ricocheting between the kitchen walls and the marble countertop. You sink your mouth deeper, tongue beneath his cock and his tip hitting the back of your throat when your nose hits his pelvis.

“Fuck,” he moans. “You’re taking me so good.”

His girth is almost unbearable in your mouth when you drag up, enclosing your cheeks around his cock before you sink down in a swift motion. You gag around him, tears swelling your eyes.

Peter thinks the mascara down your cheeks is a masterpiece, beautiful like Andromeda in the sky. You look up at him, eyes wide, wild, sultry yet innocent at the same time. Like the fucking tease you were, your lips wrap around his tip before sinking down halfway, pumping the bottom with your right hand, the left fondling with his balls beneath.

You pull out, pumping him still. “Want to fuck my face, Pete?”

He groans, pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail. You don’t need his confirmation, because soon his hips are thrusting in your mouth, rougher than you expected but you don’t care. Peter’s cock disappears in your mouth, whimpering when you gag around him.

“That’s it,” a hearty groan. “Fuck. Bet you love this, don’t you? On your knees?” you hum around his shaft, pulling out to kitten-lick his tip before sinking back in. Both his hands are on the back of your head, fucking your face like he’s always wanted to do. Your mouth is full of him, your scent is full of him, and your eyesight is full of him; nonetheless you don’t complain, because being on your knees for him gets you cock drunk enough.

He goes deeper, his cock almost right at your throat. You breathe through your nose, exhaling heavily. “That’s it. Take it like a good fucking girl. Ah – fuck.”

Merciless. His muscles retract at every thrust, and your eyes water at every gag. Peter cries out when your hands squeeze a little around his cock, feeling him get closer on edge at every push. You squeeze at his balls before you twist your hands around his shaft, following his thrusts.

You moan around him, vibrating his dick that draws out a loud groan from the man above you. You can feel his bulging veins against your tongue, saliva and arousal dripping down your chin to your exposed breasts.

Finally, he cums harder than he ever has before, voice loud and vocally thankful of your service. With a loud, scandalous groan, he releases his seed into the back of your throat. The luscious rye gets you inebriated on the delectable wine that tastes of sweet and salty.

Peter pulls you up to your feet, gathering up the spit you made and pushing it back into your mouth with his thumb, popping it out with a smile. “Fucking amazing, doll. Did so good for me.”

He kisses you like it’s the last time, your hands scraping on his chest, feeling the sweat stick to your palm. Peter moves down to bite your neck, doesn’t stop until he’s sure it’ll leave a mark. He lifts you up until you sit on the counter, bare ass meeting the cold marble.

“Think you can return the favor?” you pant, tugging on the roots of his hair. “My mind’s still isn’t changed, Pete.”

Peter kisses his way down – leaving generous sucks to your breasts and pleasurable bites on your pebbled buds, licking down to your pelvis that he bites petulantly. His fingers trail up to your calves until they trace the lace of your underwear, hooking them around his fingers before ever so slowly pulling them down to your ankles.

You’re leaking onto the countertop, and he wastes no time in pushing you backwards so that he’s got a better view of your exposed cunt. Peter grows hard again, looking up at your begging eyes before he gives you what you want.

From your ass to your clit, his tongue journeys up to your bud, sucking at the engorged clit before he laps up your sweetness through your folds, going down to teasingly prod his tongue at your puckered hole before going up to your clit again.

“Shit, Peter,” you throw your head back, hands on his brown locks. Honey-brown eyes meet yours between your legs, and you can feel his smirk against you when you moan loudly as his fingers sink inside you, clenching around his limbs. “Fuck,”

“That’s it,” he feels the spongey spot inside you, finding out it’s your g-spot when you cry out loud, biting your lip out of embarrassment. “Take it baby.” His other hand goes up to pull your bottom lip off your teeth, tugging it down. "What? Don't go shy on me now. You don't think I hear you? You're pretty loud, especially when you use your toy. Rubbing that thing up your greedy fucking pussy. God, you don't even know how hard I get when I hear you moan my name."

You chuckle at his confession. “These walls aren’t paper thin, Peter. If you think you heard those by accident, you’re so fucking wrong.”

He continues to suck on your clit, continues to fuck you with his fingers, continues teasing both your clenching holes. Because Peter enjoys watching your cunt spasm at his touch. He lets his tongue fuck you, moaning when you clench tightly around his thick muscle.

“I’m close,” you breathe out. “I’m so fucking wet Peter. I’m already close.”

Capriciously, Peter stops. You whimper as he stands up, and he’s unpleased by your reaction as a frown settles between his eyebrows. He slaps the tip of his cock on your clit. “Why’re you whining, (y/n). Greedy girl. Wait here for a bit, will you?”

He’s quick to his feet when he disappears into the bedroom. Waiting for at least ten seconds, he reappears with his webshooter on his left hand, and a toy in his right– scarlet head, black body, blue buttons. The wand makes your mouth water, and he places it beside you as Peter gives you a hungry kiss.

In a swift motion, he turns you around. Peter places the wand in front of where your clit is, webs the toy on the countertop before he bends you over, the head hitting your clit as he calculated. You moan at his handling, his hand on the back of your neck.

“You still on the pill?” Peter whispers in her ear. “You feel too fucking good for me to just wear a condom, doll.”

“Yeah,” you nod, eyes closing when his nose rubs on your cheek. Peter holds his cock in his hand, penetrating your hole with his tip before finally pushing in.

Divine. Like angels had come down and taken you with them, but your soul falls down into the deep depths of hell from the unholy act of his bare cock pushing in your tight walls. His hands grasp tightly at your waist, moaning loudly together the neighbors would file a complaint the next day.

It's not his powers healing him - it's you. It's your touch that mends his soul with the mere act of immorality. Your runes mending his skin as it burns itself on his pearlescent body. “So tight, baby,” he breathes out. “So amazing. Feel so amazing. Gonna let me fuck you hard like the whore you are?”

“Yes,” you moan. “Give it to me.”

Ever the obedient, Peter slams himself onto you. His other hand turns the vibrator on, and you practically scream with the intense pleasure. Peter fucks you into oblivion, slamming at a pace unrecoverable.

A feeling that takes him to Caelum; your eyes as round and beautiful as Callisto, bright like the moon. His skin on yours is euphorically amorous; mind nebulous. “You’re such a good cocksleeve, doll. So fucking amazing. My whore, getting what she wants, making me prove her stupid principles wrong.”

You meretriciously reach behind you to grasp at his forearm, hand choking you from behind. His cock opens you up, stretches you out as Peter continues to pound from behind you. You feel his cold spit dribble down your neglected hole, his thumb tracing before pushing it inside your ass.

It’s painful but bearable, because you like the pain that he gives you. Greedily taking all that he gives as his cock goes deep that his tip bulges out your pelvis. The vibrator never hinders down, abusing your swollen clit while his thumb fucks your ass. And you’re scratching: countertops. Your back arched like a cat as his position lets him keep on hitting it, crying because you love him the feeling of his cock too much.

Peter lets go of your neck, hands caressing your back in an act of care. It’s what alleviates the heavy feeling of abhorrent fornication. His scandalous words are gloriously poisonous, but with mithridatism in your veins, you handle the sweet hemlock. Then he pulls your back to his chest leaving the vibrator buzzing and coated with your arousal, bodies paralleled as he fucks you into another universe by a force unfathomably powerful.

But he pulls the vibrator off the counter, despite the sticky webbing. With his balls slamming on yours from behind, with his thumb leaving your hole, he puts the vibrator against your clit, overstimulating you more.

“That’s it,” he moans when he hits your spot, squeezing him. “I’m close. You close baby?”

Lost of words, you nod. He slams with a couple of more thrusts, before he shoots his warm cum inside you. You follow obediently, cumming on his cock. He doesn’t pull out yet, slowly fucking you still.

Peter is as magnificent as the veil nebula in the constellation Cygnus. You soar in cosmos, admiring Peter's blue and purple glories being as the remnant of the beautiful catastrophe of a supernova. You admire the glacial haze, too infatuated with his splendor.

⋆

Peter wipes the drag on the mess between your legs, apologizing when he touches your stinging cunt from the stimulation. He plants a small kiss on your naked collarbone, then a sweet kiss on your tired, puffy lips.

“Are your principles changed?” he murmurs against your lips, looking at you. Peter thinks you’re the most beautiful star in all galaxies, beaming boldly beneath him.

You giggle, finger tracing his jawline. “I guess.”

You hide your face in his chest, Peter plants a soft kiss on your forehead. The fucking wore him out, resting his head on top of yours. And you’re still naked on the countertop.

This was definitely all Harry’s fault.

༻✦༺ . ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ . ༻✧༺

#tasm #tasm smut #tasm peter parker imagine #tasm peter parker #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm fanfiction #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker oneshot #peter parker x you #the amazing spiderman #the amazing spiderman 2 #tasm!peter parker smut #peter parker smut #andrew garfield fic #peter parker fic #indouloureux's writing

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hobiebrownismygod · 6 months

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Headcanon - Hobie seeing the sunset for the first time in Pav's universe - Fluff

I got the idea from the art above! Check it out, its really beautiful <3

Hobie Brown got his powers after being bitten by a spider from a toxic waste dump, which led to him becoming Spider-man. His version of London is controlled by a Norman Osborne variant that's rules through a fascist dictatorship based on extreme consumerism and controlled by large businesses. Because of this, its completely plausible that his universe is plagued by pollution, to the point where it can be hard to see the sky on most days.

His universe is also mostly black and white as we saw in ATSV with some bright, flashy colors here and then. This plus the pollution would make the sunsets fairly hard to see or not as memorable.

Fast-forward to right before ATSV, after Hobie joins the Spider Society and meets Pav. He's just hanging out in Pav's dimension, swinging beside him and not really paying attention to his surroundings. They're talking, laughing, just enjoying their time together kind of like the scene in ATSV where Miles and Gwen are swinging through Brooklyn together.

Suddenly, Hobie sees Pav swing up onto a tall building and stop up there. He goes and follows, stumbling slightly as he lands on top of the roof and putting his hands in his pockets while walking toward him. "Whatcha looking at?"

He turns to see what Pav's looking at and his jaw drops. He pulls off his mask, his eyes widening as he looks out into the distance, mouth agape. "Woah."

The bright colors of Earth-50101 (Mumbattan) perfectly complement the soft orange, and the shocking pink of the sky with hints of light, baby blue in the distance. The beautiful, big yellow sun is only half-visible as it slowly sets in the distance, casting a brilliant gold glow over everything in sight. He's never seen anything like it. The colors are soft, not flashy like he's used to, and they kind of melt together like a painting. The sky is so...visible. No black clouds hovering around the sky, no giant billboards with dictatorial messages on them.

Time feels like its stopped as Hobie just stares into the distance, wanting to etch this sight into his memory for the rest of his life. he doesn't want this moment to end but alas, the sun eventually sets and the sky is engulfed in darkness. The entire time, Pav was just watching Hobie's expressions change with a grin on his face, basking in his friend's awe. "Like what you see?" He asked, playfully punching Hobie's shoulder. He's snapped out of his trance, closing his mouth shut and looking back at Pav, his expression slowly morphing into an amazed smile. "Yeah. Yeah mate, I did."

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tomurderornottomurder · 9 months

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miguel and the multiversal nothing; miguel o'hara

pair. miguel o'hara x gn!reader

summ. even without a single tie to spider-man, you and miguel are friends. one night he gives you an existential crisis over that fact.

gen. fluff, angst, existential crisis comfort

wc. 1.4k

tw. existential crisis, food, miguel has FEELINGS, ooc miguel, dialogue heavy

note. i'm not abiding by any multiverse rules. miguel o'hara needs friends. implied platonic but feel free to interpret romantically.

As it seems to be getting more common, it's raining. A soothing beat against your windows and roof with the added instrumentals of thunder and the visuals of lightning. It's a usual night for you. Work was over about four hours ago and you ate dinner two before and now you're simply admiring the view with a warm drink. Instead of pacing back and forth like a madman, you take a seat on your chair perpetually stationed facing one of the eight-foot-tall windows. As soon as you sit down, a rather polite though loud thud sounds against the window leading to your fire escape. (Yes, a window instead of a door. You didn't get an answer from your landlord.) Setting your drink down, you get up and quickly make your way to the fire escape. You bend down to slide the window open, letting in a soaked other-Spider-Man. Or Miguel as you like to occasionally call him.

"Another one of those things here?" You help him through the window, one hand in his, and the other on his back.

"Anomalies," He corrects you. Like always.

"Yeah, that. Or those." You look up at him as he now stands straight and half a foot above you. Before you can let him answer, a drop of rain falling from him and straight into your eye makes you remember something, "Towel?" You rub your eye as you walk away, the answer already known.

"Yes, please."

You're back with the towel fairly quickly, handing it off to him, then strolling into the kitchen. "So, the anomalies?" You open the fridge. "Are you staying the night?" You look at him for his answer.

"Yes. Is that alright?"

"Where else would you stay?" An unintentional cut to the truth. Of course, you didn't catch this but Miguel did.

With a container in each hand, you walk toward Miguel as he takes a seat at your kitchen island. "Brought some stuff from work. Do you like chicken or steak better?"

"Steak."

"I knew that!" You laugh. "Just checking."

"Checking what?"

"If you're you."

Miguel raises a brow at you, looking through you as if that'd make you explain yourself. It works but it's not like it always does.

"Multiverse, right?" You put both containers in your universe's version of a microwave. "So, multiple of you. And me. And everyone-"

That's now how it works.

"-Maybe another one of you found me."

Impossible. You have zero connection to Spider-Man. You're not an MJ or Gwen Stacy or Peter Parker or Mom or Dad or Uncle or Aunt or Ned Leeds or Ganke or Harry or Norman Osborn. Nothing even close. You've never even been saved by your universe's Spider-Man or put in danger by him or even met him. You only know about him because everyone else does.

The microwave equivalent beeps and as you open it, you ask, "That could happen, right?"

"No."

Miguel's not usually snappy like this. You ponder something. Maybe not snappy. Curt. Is that the same thing? "How come?" You flop the food from each container onto a plate.

Miguel swallows. The collar of his suit is tightening. Suddenly, he doesn't belong. He really shouldn't be here anyway. "It wouldn't," He shrugs.

"You know," You slide his plate over, "you just don't want to tell me. Why don't you want to tell me?" You give him a playfully questioning look. You slide him a fork as you wait for a response.

Miguel grabs his fork, looking down at the food in front of him. He can feel your eyes burning into the top of his head. What happened to his resolve around you? You weren't even that close. You could barely call yourself friends being from different universes and maybe seeing each other every few months. On the other hand, you let him stay in your house in your bed, you patch him up if need be, you make him a makeshift dinner sometimes even breakfast, you confide in him he confides in you, on occasion you've watched a movie together almost always falling asleep together, sometimes you fix his hair- Okay, we get it. So, you're friends. He says something.

"What?"

"You have no relation to Spider-Man."

"What?" You ask again, much more expressive and confused, now staring at him.

"That's why it wouldn't happen."

You're quiet. What did that even mean? No relation to Spider-Man? But aren't you friends with Miguel? "No worries then," You swallow, keeping eye contact with the piece of chicken that is now very intriguing. You'd said it as a joke with nothing else to say. "What-" You look at him, "What does that mean?"

Miguel sighs, he doesn't quite meet your eyes. "Do you remember what I said about MJs and Gwens? Well, essentially... you're a background character."

WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!

He can tell by your face that that was not the right way to explain that. "I mean, there's probably no other version of you. There would be no other you for another me to ever find or meet. That's why..."

You can't tell whether this is good or bad news. Truly one you. Did that make you endlessly unique or a neverending pit of boredom? "Then why do you... hang out with me?"

"I... I don't know. I like you. You're-"

"Wait, Miguel, stop for a minute. Just let me eat before I throw up. And also have a nervous breakdown. Okay?"

He nods solemnly. Why the fuck did he say that?

After eating and Miguel having to pull you away from staring at your sink, he sits you down. His hand never leaves your arm as he sits next to you with his knees touching yours. "Hey, you okay?"

"Not really."

"I shouldn't have told you any of that. I'm sorry I did. I-"

"No, it's okay. Just weird that the world revolves so much around Spider-Man and I've never even seen him once."

Miguel wants to laugh at that. He settles for trying to comfort you with arm rubs.

"Why did you call me a background character?"

Yeah, why did he do that? "I didn't mean that-" He sighs exasperated. "It's just that-"

"I'm not important to Spider-Man."

"No. Well, yes. I mean-"

You chuckle. "Is this your first time? It can't be yet you sound like it is."

Miguel's face flushes and he facepalms. You're right. Like always.

"I guess that means that this," You motion between yourself and him, "doesn't mean much."

"No!" He puts his hands up, desperate to explain but yet again you interrupt him.

"I guess that's okay. I only see you what? Four months out of a year? That's not sustainable anyway."

"...What?" He moves closer to hold your arms. "What are you talking about? This is sustainable, we're friends, aren't we?"

"I don't know. Are we?"

"Yes!" He throws his hands up. "Yes, we are." Miguel takes one of your hands and squeezes it gently, hoping to coax you back to him.

"But I'm not important." Your eyes now stare just past him. You feel empty.

"To Spider-Man, not to me," He tries to assure you as he leans in, your face and his now only a foot apart. He really is trying to get this point across. How could he approach this with logic? What explanation could make sense?

"Does my life mean anything? If I'm not apart of Spider-Man's life... Does anything matter? Do I mean anything to anyone? Do I mean anything to you?"

"You mean so much to me. We're friends! I like coming here. I like sharing your bed. I like eating heated-up meals in the night with you. I like that you patch me up even though you really don't have to. I like spending time with you. I don't care what you mean to Spider-Man. You mean something to me!" Logic wouldn't win this. He had to tell you how he felt.

You aren't expecting that. You finally meet his eye again. "What... Did you just have an emotion besides annoyance?" Now, you're smiling at him.

Miguel groans. "I'm going to regret telling you that, aren't I?"

You nod, "Yes. Very much." You get out of your seat to sit next to Miguel. "I still wanna know," You're serious again but not void of everything, "if my life means something without Spider-Man and why he's so important." Your face is serious as you look at Miguel. A moment passes before you playfully hit his chest and tell him, "You're not getting out of this existential crisis so easily."

"I owe you that, don't I?"

You nod, "Yep." You hold onto his arm to hang on to. "So," You drag out the vowel, "we are friends."

Miguel looks at you and your cheesy smile and that smile is the only thing holding back the most annoyed groan in all of history. "We are friends."

#murder writes #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x gn reader #miguel o'hara x gn!reader #miguel o'hara x gen reader #miguel o'hara x gender neutral reader #miguel o'hara x gen!reader #told you i would write for miguel #my mans needs friends

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wtfhasmy-lifecometo · 2 years

Note

Hey there! I don't know if you're currently taking requests, but if you are, may I request something? Would you be willing to do a Norman Osborn x Fem! Reader x Otto Octavius fic in which she likes them both, but she's torn on who to pursue?

Hello!!! I am so glad to be back and writing, I absolutely love this idea, this will be three parts and part one is quite short, I guess this is going to be my short one shot series, but I really hope you do enjoy this love! Xx ❤️

Requested? Yes @my-lady-greensleeves

Warnings?: little bit of angst, fluff at the end of the series

Torn Between

Pt. One

You were desolate, to say the least… your feelings twisted and twirled around within your mind, it was hard to truly figure out an option. You loved them both, madly, and it was getting more and more difficult each day.

These feelings breaking you apart yet giving you the happiest feeling in the world, mixed emotions were definitely not what you wanted when it came to this.

The butterflies you got every time Norman or Otto would walk in the room, you’d only catch a glimpse of them before you got all jittery, it was agonizing at times. With your mind taking an emotional beating most days, you tended to keep to yourself when it got that way, but that never stopped the two boys from making sure you were okay. You knew they cared, but you had a hard time trying to accept that neither one of them may feel for you the same way, and it was getting worse day by day. Despite the hurt, you knew that they’d always be there for you. You decided to throw on some pj’s and a movie, deciding that a sappy romance movie would be an ironically good fit for tonight, you sat down on the couch with your snacks that you got from the kitchen and watched away, crying and laughing and awe’ing at the different scenes, wishing you had what they had in the movie. Things were not how you wanted it to be, but you assured yourself time and time again that it would be okay in the end, because they’d always be there for you and that’s what mattered.

Once again! This part is very short, as I had some troubles with tumblr and it’s word count :( but part two and three will be longer! I hope you like this 💕

#norman osborn x reader #norman osborn #otto octavius x reader #otto octavius fluff #otto octavius #doc ock x reader #gosh I hate tumblr to a degree but it’s okay

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spiderversebigbang · 1 month

Text

Spider-Verse Big Bang 2023 Masterpost

Valley of the Kings

Author: @rainbowtransform || ao3 Artists: @ovytia-art and @zylien

“So, Gym Leader Peter Parker of the Celadon Gym died a few months ago, if you’d recall.” Miles nods his head. He’d seen it all over his feed, and plus it was all over the news.

24-year-old Peter Parker dies by a heart attack, survived by a grieving widow, their pokémon, and the people of his city. Or: Miles is appointed to be a gym leader of Gym Leader Parker’s death. Unfortunately for him, nobody thinks he can do it least of all Miles himself. At least, until he finds a mysterious note saying that Gym Leader Parker’s death might not be an accident.

Wordcount: 14,356 || Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply Character(s): Miles Morales, Gwen Stacy | Spider-Gwen, Peter Benjamin Parker | Spider-Man Noir, Peter B. Parker (Spider-Man: Into the Spider-verse), Peni Parker (Spider-Man: Into the Spider-verse), Peter Porker, Wilson Fisk Tags: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Team as Family, Alternate Universe - Pokemon Fusion, Animal Cruelty (mentioned), Miles Morales Needs a Hug, Spiderverse Big Bang, Fluff and Angst, Mystery, Peter Parker does still die in this guys sorry

Overture

Author: @the-real-pocket-egg || ao3 Artists: @jo-v-ie and @hootdraws

"In the realm of songs and symphonies, there exists such a thing as a climax, a crescendo; the striking of a match that burns its brightest the moment before being suddenly and unceremoniously snuffed out. It’s the point towards which the band has been clawing to reach, to see all of its hard work paid back in kind as the music swells and the audience’s hearts quicken in anticipation. When nothingness had fallen upon him, so with it went the music, and the Doctor had the sense that he had just been fully and thoroughly, suddenly and unceremoniously, snuffed out. Hypothesis? Not-his Peter had killed him. Great." The year? 1982. The location? Broadway. The lesson? That maybe Otto Octavius understands T.S. Elliot more than he let on.

Wordcount: 13,835 || Rating: Teen

Archive Warning(s): Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply Pairing(s): Otto Octavius/Rosalie Octavius Character(s): Otto Octavius, Rosalie Octavius, Norman Osborn, Curt Connors, Peter Parker, Aunt May Parker, Max Dillon, Flint Marko Tags: Fluff, Angst, First Dates, Slice of Life, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - 1980s, Musicals, Theatre, Romance, Memories, Memory Alteration, Headaches & Migraines, Redemption

Demons Within

Author: @loadyron || ao3 Artists: @noiter00123 and @zarthhearth

Peter and Wade's pasts are… complicated. The weight of their experiences brings out fear and sympathy from them both.

Spider-Man numbed his heart and promised to never be in a relationship again, but as he realizes his feelings for Deadpool he finds his past haunts him with agonizing pain. Deadpool while coming across his new love interest, finds himself opening up. But the torture and abuse, all the stuff he had been through would always haunt him.

Follow their love story and watch how both despite being tormented by their traumatic past, heal the wounds in their hearts. Finding comfort as they develop a strong emotional bond

Wordcount: 18453 || Rating: Mature

Archive Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply Pairing(s): Peter Parker/Wade Wilson Character(s): Peter Parker, Wade Wilson, Weasel Tags: Canon Compliant, Andrew Garfield (Peter Parker/Spider-man), Ryan Reynolds (Wade Wilson/Deadpool), Longfic, angst, introspection, miscommunication, humor, love story, falling in love, dating, first kiss, age gap, compassion heals wounds, emotion bound, emotional comfort, sexual tension, poor coping mechanism to trauma, happy ending, Post- Canon, Post-Spider-Man: No Way Home, Post-Movie: Deadpool 2 (2018) and bad language

Sirens (Just Wanna be Good Again)

Author: @sparkstar-trash || ao3 Artists: @mistical52, @kats0wo and Sehrli

When Miles inserts himself into a fight between two villains, the last thing he expects to happen is to lose his powers. With a Brooklyn-wide conspiracy, constant spider missions, and everyday life bearing down on him, Miles cannot handle it all without his spider powers -- especially when he refuses to ask for help from anyone except his Prowler counterpart. That is until he gains Venom Symbiote, and suddenly, his powers seem to be back. But are they really? How will Miles face all his responsibilities without giving in to the devil in disguise whispering on his shoulder?

Wordcount: 48,963 || Rating: Teen

Archive Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply Character(s): Miles Morales, Miles Morales | Prowler (Marvel Earth-42), Ganke Lee, Hobie Brown, Gwen Stacy | Spider-Gwen, Miguel O'Hara, Lyla | LYrate Lifeform Approximation (Earth-928), Peter B. Parker, Pavitr Prabhakar, Venom Symbiote (Marvel), Olivia Octavius, Max Dillion, Michael Morbius Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending, Miles Morales Needs a Hug, Miles Morales-centric, BAMF Miles Morales, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Villain Character Death, Cancer, Possessive Venom Symbiote (Marvel), Loss of Powers, Post-Canon, Miles Morales has the Venom Symbiote

LYLA's Gambit

Author: @thesilentbard || ao3 Artists: @madbunnyarts and @maybetheworldwillburn

“Come on, Miguel. Miles traveled all the way to this dimension just to see you. I think you at least owe him a cup of coffee and some conversation.” Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Fine.” He leveled a deadpan stare at Miles. His next words came out clipped and inhospitable. “A pleasure to see you, Miles.” He gestured woodenly towards the interior. “Won’t you come in? I’ll show you to the kitchen.”

After Spider Society disbands, LYLA decides it's time that Miguel get his life back together. The first step? Reconciling with Miles Morales. Everything after that? Well, LYLA has a plan.

Wordcount: 15,128 || Rating: General

Archive Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply Pairing(s): Miguel O'Hara/Original Female Character(s) Character(s): Lyla | LYrate Lifeform Approximation (Earth-928), Miguel O'Hara, Miles Morales, Peter B. Parker (Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse), Original Female Character(s) Tags: Slice of Life, Angst and Humor, LYLA-centric, Miguel O'Hara needs a life, Post-Canon, Identity Reveal, Mild Hurt/Comfort, mild romance, POV Third Person, Lyla POV, Speculative Post-BTSV, Spider Society is disbanded, Character Study, overcoming guilt, mending broken relationships, over-reaching AI, Comedy

Breakthrough

Author: Simbeline Artists: @uwuagenda and herefor_reasons

When Spot stepped into the collider, he changed. Miles... well, Miles changed, too. (Inspired by EEAAO, for the Spider Verse Big Bang 2023.)

Wordcount: 20,116 || Rating: Teen

Archive Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply Character(s): Miles Morales, Miles Morales | Prowler (Marvel Earth-42), Gwen Stacy | Spider-Gwen, Peter B. Parker (Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse), Miguel O'Hara, Spot (Spider-Man: Across the Universe), Hobie Brown, Pavitr Prabhakar, Rio Morales, Jefferson Morales (Earth-1610), Jessica Drew, Aaron Davis (Marvel Earth-42) Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Inspired by Everything Everywhere All at Once, (but you don't really need to know anything about EEAAO), Dimension Travel, Time Travel, Identity Reveal, Miles Morales-centric, Movie: Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse (2023), Spiderverse Big Bang 2023, Powerful Miles Morales

Oh, the places you'll go!

Author: @graham-cracker-guillotine || ao3 Artists: @samaspic31 and @englandamericaitaly

Miles landed ungracefully in a heap, smacking into several trash cans and cardboard boxes on the way down. As he straightened up, he inhaled sharply. This wasn’t his New York. Where were the colors? The energy? It was as if someone threw away all the things that made New York what it was and left just the gross, dirty buildings behind. The rooftop access door slammed open, revealing an older man. Graying hair, lines in his face, though his pressed suit seemed to be out of place with the dingy-looking rooftop. Miles realized belatedly that he looked like a police officer - maybe the commissioner? The older man glanced around, taking a long drag of his cigarette. "Fuckin’ Bats,” he muttered, shaking his head. Miles watched, bewildered, as the man turned and simply walked back the way he came. What the hell? ~~ What if the spider that bit 1610-Miles Morales wasn’t actually from Dimension 42? What if it wasn’t from a Spiderverse dimension? What if the universe that the spider came from was less arachnid themed and more… bat themed?

Wordcount: 29,432 || Rating: Teen

Archive Warning(s): Graphic Depictions of Violence Pairing(s): Tim Drake/Miles Morales (preslash) Character(s): Miles Morales, Miguel O'Hara, Peter B. Parker (Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse), Gwen Stacy | Spider-Gwen, Jason Todd, Batfamily Members, Justice League (DCU), Spider society - Character, Harleen Quinzel Tags: Miguel O'Hara Bashing, (collective) Spider Society Bashing, Miles Morales Whump, Glitching (Spiderverse), Panic Attacks, Justice League as Family (DCU), Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Miles Morales Acts Like a Spider, no Gwen Stacy bashing, Miles is very much just rolling with the punches rn, his catchphrase is “yeah okay”, Protective Harleen Quinzel, Minor Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel, Fake Science, Pre-Movie: Spider-Man: Beyond the Spider-Verse (2024)

The Life We Wish We Had

Author: @tytach and @noiter00123 || ao3 Artist: @the-real-pocket-egg

We all want to live the life we wish we had. Believe me, I have tried. And the harder I tried, the more damage I did." - Miguel O’Hara Ever since having his DNA spliced with a spider’s, Miguel’s personal life has become a mess. A hidden identity, troublesome mutations, and increasingly frequent bouts of anger tear at his sanity daily. So when his ex-fiancée gets sucked into another dimension, well — that’s just one more act to the shit show, isn't it? ...or so he thought. As it turns out, getting stranded in a new world with her and the ever-annoying Peter B. Parker might be exactly what he needs to turn his life around. A story exploring the trauma behind Miguel’s behavior and convictions in Across the Spiderverse.

Wordcount: 33,365 || Rating: Mature

Archive Warning(s): Major Character Death Pairing(s): Miguel O'Hara/Dana D'Angelo, Peter B. Parker/Mary Jane Watson Character(s): Miguel O’Hara, Dana D’Angelo, Peter B. Parker, Lyla, Jordan Boone, Mary-Jane Watson, Doctor Octopus, Gabriel O’Hara Tags: Pre-Canon, Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Tone shift, Pregnancy, Child Loss, Bridging the comics and movie lore gap, Identity Reveal, Mending relationship, No Smut, Multiple POVs, Unreliable Narrators, Brutal ending, Mention of blood and injuries

Germfree Adolescence

Author: @kubostrrrngs || ao3 Artist: khansarah

Gwen convinces Miles to join a band with the rest of their friends. Turns out it's a great choice. A small series on Miles' life with his bandmates.

Wordcount: 16,286 || Rating: Teen

Archive Warning(s): Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply Pairing(s): Miles Morales/Gwen Stacy, Pavitr Prabhakar/Gayatri Singh Character(s): Miles Morales, Gwen Stacy, Hobie Brown, Pavitr Prabhakar, Margo Kess, Gayatri Singh, Peter B Parker, Rio Morales, Jefferson Morales Tags: Alternate Universe - no powers, Alternate universe - rock band, Miles Morales-centric, No angst, Platonic relationships, Babysitting, Trans Gwen Stacy, Very minor though, Teenage dorks, First dates, Dorks in love, First relationship, Sweet Pavitr Prabhakar, Fluff and humour, Attempt at humour, No plot/plotless, Just vibes, McDonald's, Grocery store, Food as a metaphor for love, Concerts, Adorable Mayday Parker, Minor Peter B Parker/Mary Jane Watson, Hobie Brown is a little shit, Miles Morales is trying his best, Gwen Stacy is bad at feelings, She's doing better, Good friend Pavitr Prabhakar, Margo Kess is a good friend, This should already be a tag, Big bang challenge, Anthology, Artist Miles Morales, Drummer Gwen Stacy, Underage drinking

#spiderverse big bang #spiderverse big bang 2023 #svbb2023 #spiderverse

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