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lazyjellyfish300 · 15 days

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Dad's "Best" Friend Peter B. comes to Dinner🍝🍷

DBF!Peter B. Parker x Fem shy less experienced!Reader

Synopsis: Your dad's new friend from work comes over for dinner and he's a lot cuter than you were expecting. 💋 Word count 5.8k

A/N: Giving my man Miguel a damn break for once LMAO. Jk, it won't be for long, I just have like 6 wips with him at the moment and can't decide which one to work on. 😩 Then I had a dream about Peter B. and so now let me get this out of my system. I was gonna let us f*ck but then I got to 5k words so part 2?! Lmk.

TW: MINORS DNI, LEGAL AGE GAP: PETER B. IS 38, READER IS IN LATE TWENTIES, SMUT (69, ORAL SEX F AND M RECEIVING, READER HASN'T HAD AN ORGASM BEFORE/LESS EXPERIENCED, FINGERING, HANDJOB, ORGASM) IMPLIED DIFFICULT RELATIONSHIP WITH YOUR DAD, READER IS SHY WITH SOCIAL ANXIETY

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"Dad...."

"You're not burning the meat, are you?"

"It's literally the same spaghetti sauce I always make! Out."

Your dad shoves a spoon into the pan of bubbling red tomato sauce and steals a taste, huffing frantically like a dragon at the hot temperature.

"It's not ready yet! Jesus..."

You shoo your dad out of the kitchen for the umpteenth time with a roll of your eyes. Normally, you couldn't give two shits about making dinner, particularly when your dad almost always found something to complain about whenever you cooked, leading you to take a semi-permanent hiatus.

However, you found out he was inviting his new friend from work, and you quickly realized you'd rather die than subject an innocent stranger to the atrocity that was your dad's cooking skills.

Instead you let him handle dessert, easily solved with a frozen ice cream cake from the store. You looked at the clock nervously that was creeping up on 7 pm. The guest would be due to arrive at any time.

You didn't worry about dressing up too much since you were running around all evening, wearing one of your college crew neck sweaters and favorite leggings. At least you cared to match your fuzzy socks this time with your hair just the way you liked to wear it and a freshly done face with the level of makeup you'd flaunt for special occasions.

At the sound of a small knock from the door, your dad grumbles, saying he'll answer it and he shuffles towards it with a burnt tongue. You resume anxiously tending to the sauce, mentally preparing yourself to socially mask for the next two hours.

You hear a man's voice. It's mellow and humble, turning down your dad's overbearing insistence on waiting on him hand and foot, meekly asserting he can hang his own suit jacket and graciously thanking him for inviting him over.

At the sound of their approaching footsteps in the kitchen, you turn, offering your most gorgeous smile to the new stranger, your dad's new so-called "best friend" (a title easily acquired by anyone who let him mindlessly yap about world governments for longer than five minutes), and extend your hand to him.

You feel your pupils dilate when you're greeted with a firm yet soft grip that contains almost a fraction of the warmth as the silken chestnut brown of his eyes.

He looks younger than your dad, somewhere in his late thirties. He's tall, about 6'2 with a lean muscular build that's highlighted in the way his white button down shirt hugs his arms, the bottom of which is tucked into gray slacks that sit on his narrow waist. He wears a pleasant smile with dazzling teeth.

His tone of voice is soothing, almost innocent with an edge of allure in the way he said certain phrases that you can't quite put your finger on, kind of like how he said...

"You must be my friend's daughter. He didn't mention how lovely you are..." Making your cheeks nearly hotter than the spaghetti you prepared.

"Ah, well, she gets it from her old man!" Your dad cuts in. You can't help but sigh and turn your attention back to the food, not knowing that Peter's eyes wouldn't leave you the rest of the evening.

At dinner, you politely dish up both men a healthy serving of buttery spaghetti and the rich, homemade sauce. A medley of sweet tomatoes and fresh garlic fills your belly as you all silently eat. The gentle sounds of your metal forks tapping against the porcelain of your plates and the hollow sound of wine being sipped from a glass.

Your dad blabs and practically monopolizes the majority of the dinner conversation. You tune in only to the part where he introduces Peter B. a little further, a small smile playing on your lips as you nod and listen intently as he tells his story.

He's Peter Benjamin Parker, a 38 year-old divorcee with a nearly four year old daughter who works in finance alongside your dad.

They bonded over similar interests and your dad loudly cuts in and says since Peter was one of the only people at work who truly recognized his potential for what it was, he'd told him he'd repay him one of these days with a homemade dinner and glass of wine at his place, to which he simply couldn't say no.

Your dad goes to butt in and steer the conversation back to his isolated ramblings but Peter politely cuts him off,

"I'd like to hear more about you," he says with a smile. The twinkle in his eye throws off your train of thought as you struggle to form an answer with some semblance of clarity.

You tell him you're in your late twenties, trying to balance college and work while living with your dad in hopes of getting your own place when you graduate. He nods solemnly and seriously as you describe your dreams and ambitions for the future, occasionally validating you with a gentle hum or a "go on," with the ghost of a smile on his lips as he listens intently, none of the other topics of the evening seized his attention quite so strongly as you are now.

Your dad seems to accept defeat at his failure to reclaim the conversation and shifts all his attention to the food in front of him, stuffing his face as you converse with Peter. You find your cheeks start to hurt towards the end of dinner from all the smiles he's drawing out of you with his questions and his silly quips that you can't help but beam at, even if they would sound atrocious coming from anyone else.

Somehow, this new friend of your dad's fell out of the handsome tree and managed to knock every single branch on his way down of things you found yourself wildly attracted to, the wine in your glass pushing you closer to him by the time dinner ended.

At your dad's suggestion, you played a few rounds of a card game called Thirty-One, the smirk on Peter's face widening even more in silent admiration as you won hand after hand. A smile breaking across your lips when Peter let out an exasperated laugh at your knocking for a close 30 right after he just got done dealing. He touched your hand, his soft fingertips lingering on your knuckles as he joked with your dad that you had to have sabotaged the deck when he wasn't looking as your dad threw his cards on the table with a shake of his head and a loud yawn at his pitiful 15 and Peter's sad 23.

You watched Peter as he skillfully shuffled and stacked the cards away into a neat pile. Those long, gentle fingers of his expertly bending and handling the cards, making them all fall perfectly in a flawless cascade against his palms, your heart nearly coming to a dead stop in your chest when you feel the top of his knee momentarily press against yours underneath the table.

Soon after dessert and one or two more red wine glasses, your dad is waddling towards his room down the hall scratching his back, teasing you two not to stay up too late and telling Peter he's welcome to whatever leftovers he wants in the fridge and the guest bedroom next to his in case he's unable to drive. You nod and mutter goodnight, the air flooded with awkward tension as his door clicks softly behind him.

You shyly stand up, and tell Peter you should probably do the dishes, to which Peter offers to help. You shake your head but he doesn't take no for an answer, the dimple in his smile growing as he rolls up his sleeves over his forearms, striding towards the kitchen before you can utter one more word in protest. Soon, you're rinsing the dishes as he scrubs, he'll pause every so often and turn down the volume of the water coming from the sink so he can hear you a little better, modest whiffs of his cologne coming from his neck that make you a little weak in the knees as he seems to get closer and closer to you on your side of the sink, an entire colony of butterflies soaring in your tummy every time his hand brushes against yours as he hands you a new dish.

You humbly suggest a movie afterwards before you call it a night as you take turns drying your hands on the dish rag. He smiles and follows you to the couch, sitting next to you. You feel your face heat up and you try to find something to watch, making a busy, quiet clicking noise with your teeth to fill the gaps of silence between you two.

You know you're not at the point that you can just turn on one of your cheesy chick flicks with him, so, you randomly suggest a scary movie, knowing damn well that you're a huge chicken when it came to watching them.

The corner of Peter's mouth twitches a little. Scary movies, the oldest trick in the book. Neither of you were born yesterday. A guy and a girl with obvious tension between the two of them, sitting late at night on a couch all alone, with a scary movie playing that would inevitably make the space between them very, very thin. You know it, and he knows it, but he nods his head.

"You sure you wanna watch a scary one?"

You shrug innocently, and respond in an overly optimistic manner. "Yeah, I mean, they're not too bad. I might need to close my eyes for certain parts but I can handle it."

Peter smirks. "Okay...if you say so."

You select the movie, and as the screen loads, Peter says to you in a lower tone, "You know, at any point in time, you can pause it and put on something else."

You shake your head. "Nahhh. I'll be fine," shooting him an overconfident smile.

A few jump scares in, the blanket on your lap is tickling the bottom of your nose as you hold it to your face, occasionally bringing it up over your forehead with a few small whimpers.

Peter's doing his best to play it cool as well, but he finds himself also jumping at some of the more intense scenes, mostly because of how reactive you are, your elbow occasionally bumping his, making him shudder in alarm at parts that weren't even that scary, your nervous energy feeding onto him.

At one point, it's obvious that another big scare is coming up as the main character starts to walk down a dark hall, the unsettling hum of the chilling music blasting from the speakers, both of you holding your breath.

You look to your left and Peter looks to his right, your faces meeting in the middle. You both giggle as you look at each other, neither of you brave enough to turn your attention back to the screen.

"What's happening?" you whisper playfully to him.

He chuckles and whispers back, "I don't know."

"Just look and tell me if that one scary guy is about to come on."

Peter smiles and shakes his head, "No, you do it."

"Peter! For fuck's sake, pleaseee..." you hiss giving him a playful nudge with your elbow.

Peter sighs and slowly turns back towards the screen, then he pauses the movie. Your head is still turned to him, your cheek pressed against the back of the couch in an effort to hide your gaze from whatever spooky image is on screen.

"You can look, there's nothing there, I paused it." Peter whispers.

You turn, and bam, the demon's face is frozen perfectly in a menacing look, taking up the entire frame. You let out a little scream and immediately clap your hands to your mouth as Peter cracks up. You reach out and smack him, both of your hands alternating as Peter playfully tries to weakly defend himself with his own.

"You...bastard! I'm gonna kill you Peter!" You say through clenched teeth, throwing a spare pillow into his chest.

Peter catches one of your hands and the smile fades from both of your faces as you feel your hands fully touch for the first time. His palm gently smooths over yours, interlacing his fingers.

You feel your stomach flutter, and his does the same. He pulls you a little closer and he smirks down at you when you fall against his chest.

"Hi...", he whispers, his eyes getting lost in yours.

"Hey..." you answer softly. You're about to dive headfirst into those sweet brown eyes when you realize:

Shit-your dad.

Your heart hammers in your chest a little as you turn your head quickly to the side, sitting up and peering over the couch to see any signs of activity coming from his bedroom down the hall.

"Shit...he might have woken up." You murmur.

"Nah...I don't hear anything." Peter cranes his neck as well, his chin lightly brushing the top of your head as he pulls you even closer so his arm is around you on the back of the couch.

"I could've sworn I heard something," you murmur. Your heart rate has sped up tremendously, you can feel him right there, on the side of your face. If you turn and look at him, it's over.

Peter smiles softly, his eyes on you while you're still focused on the back of the hall. The top of his pointer finger gently grazes the outline of your jaw, pausing just on the corner of your chin. He presses it a little harder, gently guiding your gaze to look at him.

You feel your cheeks utterly burn as you face him fully, hyper aware of the minimal distance between your noses. Your breath catches in your throat as you see his eyelids droop, and then eventually close as he leans in to kiss you.

You wet your lips, leaning in as well, then finally meet his in a soft, delicate first kiss. Peter gently draws in air through his nose, releasing the breath in the form of a soft moan into your mouth as he moves his lips again, this time perfectly sandwiching them between his. Your lashes flutter at the tantalizing sensation as you allow your lips to dance with his, your stomach practically flying away when you feel his free hand gently press against the side of your neck.

He scoops you in closer with his arm that was laying on the back of the sofa, then bringing it to cup your face also. He holds your face tenderly in his hands, smoothing his thumbs over your cheeks as he makes out with you on the sofa, his tongue gently gliding over your lips, coating them in the wet warmness of his mouth.

The sweetness of the tomatoes, and the dark red wine laced on his tongue bring you even closer, the heat between your bodies almost becoming too much for your respective places from where you sit, begging to be transferred onto the other's skin.

Peter pulls you into his lap and you take it a step further, straddling him with one leg on either side of his lap, your hands tangling themselves in his sandy brown hair, weaving between those light grey streaks with a soft, high pitched moan.

"Fuck..." Peter groans at your noises. He gently turns your head to the side for better access and his lips start attacking your neck. Soft and messy, he blazes a trail of wetness all along your collarbone, his fingers gently tugging at the neckline of your sweater. You indulge him and slip it off, leaving him breathless as you sit there straddling his lap in your bra. "Look at you..."

You bite your lip with a smile and lean back, freeing your breasts, allowing the soft globes to spill out from over the top of the cups.

Peter lets out a breathy moan at the sight, "Beautiful...mmm..." and leans forward, eagerly locking his lips around your left breast, while gently rolling the nipple of your right. You moan and slowly tilt your head back, your breaths shaky as you let Peter enjoy your body, feeling the soft, wet pad of his tongue swiftly swirl around your nipple, leaving the bud nice and perky as his lips suck and release it with a tiny plop. The chilly air around it makes goosebumps appear all across your chest, and Peter switches sides, taking your right breast in his mouth. He lets his tongue trace circle after circle around the delicate areola, moaning at the taste of your skin, making you suck in air between your teeth as he hollows his cheeks, beginning to lightly suck your breast as though he were trying to make you cum from the motion alone.

Your breaths are growing higher and higher in pitch. Your brow furrows as your mind is ripped between two directions of trying to relax and focus on all the pleasure he's giving you while controlling the volume of your moans.

Your lips fall open as you feel Peter gently start rolling his hips underneath you, the fabric of his pants straining against his raging erection. You start humping your pussy against him, and he closes his eyes, letting out a deep sigh as he moans your name.

"Yeah, Peter....?" you answer breathlessly as you gently roll your hips in a circle.

Peter can barely speak at this point, his mouth wide open as he leans back, his hands rubbing your breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze before they snake behind your back, unclasping your bra.

"Shit..." He breaths out as he sets your breasts free with a little bounce and your entire upper torso is now exposed to him. He tosses your bra onto the couch next to him, biting his lip as his hands run and caress all over every square inch of your body. "How're you so perfect...come closer, beautiful..."

You gasp a little as you feel his hand grab you around the back of your neck, forcing your lips a little more intensely against his this time. You moan, sucking and biting his lip, not minding the bit of stubble from his face pricking your cheeks, allowing your soft giggles to escape into his mouth.

"Mmm....what's so funny, cutie?" Peter smirks his lips against yours, one of his hands tugging at your leggings. Your breathing speeds up, a sharp, high pitched moan leaving your lips when you feel his hand cup your clothed pussy.

Peter smiles devilishly, biting his lip as well as he holds you in his hand, his hand gently pulsing and applying more pressure against your throbbing cunt. "This feels good?"

"Peter..."

"What, baby?" He teases, cocking his head a little at you, the heel of his palm pressing against your clothed clit.

"I need you...fuck, I need you.." you whine.

"Need me how, baby?" He whispers, this time pressing a wet, loving kiss to your lips. "Hmmm, baby... tell me?"

"I...w-want you to fuck me..."

Peter gives a low groan, continuing to fondle your pussy outside of your clothes, driving you mad.

"Yeah, pretty girl...?"

"Yes Peter....please baby...?"

Peter lets out a little chuckle and presses a soft kiss to your lips. "I will, sweetheart...just be patient for me." He shifts underneath you, pulling you off his lap. You catch your breath, panting as you watch him pull up a couch pillow and prop it behind you.

Peter catches the back of your head with his hand, leaning in to press another kiss to your lips as he gently lays you backwards, your hair spread out on the pillow, groaning at the sight of the beautiful half naked goddess laid out for him.

"You're absolutely perfect..."

You bite your lip and reach up, one of your fingers teasing the buttons of his shirt. "Your turn to show me..."

His cheeks burn pink but he flashes you a little smile as he unbuttons it completely and lets the flaps fall away from his body, giving you a delicious view of his chest and stomach, the dark brown hair decorating his pecks and the lean muscle underneath, from the slightest pudge of his belly at the bottom, making your mouth water. His shoulder muscles ripple faintly as he removes his shirt altogether and sets it to the side, returning to running his hands up and down your thighs.

Those big beautiful brown eyes stay locked with yours as he presses a kiss to your sternum. You giggle and tangle a hand in his hair as he moves down your tummy, the low tones of his voice vibrating against your body, and traveling straight to your pussy.

He kisses your stomach one more time and gently hooks his fingers underneath your panties and leggings. You lift your hips for him in silent obedience, your lips falling open as you watch his face utterly burn with lust as he pulls them off of you.

Peter lets out a low groan, licking his lips as he lets his eyes roam all over your naked body. Those brown eyes find yours again, taking note of your labored breaths. He leans down, pressing a tender kiss to your lips, his thumb smoothing along the shape of your bottom lip. "You doing okay, beautiful?" He asks in a low tone, slightly rubbing his nose against yours.

You nod slowly, your face burning. "It's just, Peter I-"

"Yes, sweetheart?" His eyes search you with concern, the gray five o'clock shadow of his face highlighted in the soft yellow glow coming from the lone reading lamp on the other side of the room by the TV. He's unbelievably handsome, this caring man who was only a stranger hours ago, looking at you as though his gaze alone could somehow convey the degree of worship he felt you deserved, somehow managing to show greater care and tenderness to your body than any other man you dealt with before. You'd let him do this every day if it meant you'd never get used to this intoxicating feeling.

"I've never um..."

"Mhmm?"

"I've never had a..."

"You're a virgin?" He asks softly, stroking your cheek.

"No I mean, I've just never finished before..."

"You haven't had an orgasm before...?" he asks you quietly. You nod in shy affirmation, a new heat wave making itself apparent underneath your cheeks.

Peter nods in quiet understanding, the backs of his knuckles stroking your face in silent reassurance. He leans in, kissing you once more. You hum into the kiss, and you feel his soft tongue prodding the tip of your lips again. You feel another shot of arousal wet itself between your thighs as his tongue pushes into your mouth, bringing the kiss to that deep state of passion from before. You start making out with him again, the grip on his hair tightening as you feel him gently lower his body weight onto you.

He eventually pulls away, leaving a fresh trail of kisses down your neck, pausing once more to suckle on your perky tits, leaving your nipples hard and pointy in his wake. He worships your tummy, licking a stripe down the plush middle, pausing at the top of your sex where he draws a circle with his tongue, causing you to buck your hips.

"I could be your first..." He murmurs, inhaling deeply, his fingers curling around your hips as he looks up at you with his deep brown eyes. "I'll make you cum tonight..."

You let out a soft whine, stroking his cheek and he leans affectionately into your touch. "Peter..."

"Do you want that baby...hmmm?" He comes up closer to your face, caging your body underneath him as he looks lovingly down into your eyes. "Tell me you want it sweetheart, and I'll do that for you tonight."

He purrs, leaning down to pepper more messy kisses to your neck, leading you to whimper. "I want it...I want you, Peter..."

"Want me to what, pretty girl?" He murmurs from your neck. "I need to be sure you're okay with it, darling. Tell me what you want me to do to you tonight..."

"Make me cum..."

Peter's face gets hot. He brings his face from your neck, looking at you as he starts to slide down your body towards your pussy. "Okay, sweetheart...you got it."

He gives you another devilish smile as he locks his arms around your thighs, "It's okay, baby..." He presses a kiss to your clit, making you shudder with anticipation. "We don't wanna wake up your dad, remember?"

You nod, your fingers coming down to tangle themselves in his mop of sandy brown hair once again. "Peter..."

"I've got you, baby...I'll go nice and slow..."

Your back arches and your pretty lips fall open when you feel Peter's thick tongue massage the folds of your pussy. You feel him let out a low groan, his soft murmurs being swallowed up by the plushness of your thighs around his head.

He humps his aching cock against the sofa as he continues to eat your pussy, his tongue gliding up and down your lips for several more moments before he dips inside, exploring the velvet of your walls as he lets his tongue indulge, steadily fucking you, working his tongue in a steady rhythm as he prods it in and out of your weeping cunt. Your hands come to play with your tits for more stimulation, one of his hands coming up to join yours as he rolls your tender nipple between his fingers.

Never in your life did you think sex could feel this fucking good, the way he's so gloriously eating you out, not caring and groaning at the very sight of you, swallowing every drop of your pussy like it's water and he's a parched man in the desert, plunging his face into that sweet oasis between your thighs. You whimper and move your hips up and down in tandem with his tongue. He greedily digs his nails into the backs of your thighs and ass, shoving your pussy against his face as he buries himself nose deep.

"Mmm.... you're driving me crazy, sweetheart...might have to eat you all night."

Peter pulls away, he can feel himself about to cum in his pants. He lays back on the couch and takes you by the hand, guiding your dripping pussy over his equally glistening face, brown eyes blown wide with lust as he pulls you closer.

You bite your lip at the sexy sight of your arousal smeared all over his gorgeous face, lowering yourself onto him slowly, moaning when you feel his tongue moving inside you again, his hands seizing your hips, slamming you down onto his nose.

"That's better..." Peter groans and continues dining on your pussy, his hips humping the air, his fingers becoming more gentle as they press into your hips, rocking you on his tongue. Your mouth waters at the outline of his cock and you reach forward, unbuckling his belt, unzipping his pants, taking his hard cock out from his boxers, your eyes fluttering at its generous length and slightly pink tip, brimming with precum.

Peter chuckles from underneath you, "Mmmm, haha....baby, what are you-ah!"

He groans and lets his head flop back onto the pillow with his eyes shut when he feels you take him in your mouth, the slick inside of your cheeks caressing the length of his cock as you take him as deep as you can. He holds his breath, only releasing a long groan of pleasure as you begin bobbing your head, softly using your mouth as a fleshlight as you passionately suck him off.

"Baby....ah, baby....fuck..."

He groans loudly.

"Shh..." you coo sweetly, pressing sloppy kisses onto his sensitive tip. "Don't wanna wake him up, remember."

"Mmmnnhhh....." Peter groans loudly again, thrusting his cock a little deeper in your mouth. "Baby...you're perfect." He bites his lip, letting himself ride the wave of pleasure you're sending all throughout his body for another lengthy moment before he starts softly licking, then pushing his tongue back inside the soft plush of your pussy.

The room is a quiet, sloppy mess with gentle moans and playful shushes bouncing off the walls as you pleasure each other in the 69 position. This is by far the filthiest thing you've ever done. Fucking this sweet man who was older than you but treated you and ate you like a goddess. This tall, lean rugged man with a kind voice and big brown eyes. Your dad's friend, a stranger, letting the beautiful daughter of his new friend suck his cock in his living room while the house was asleep.

You clench your teeth, pausing from sucking Peter's cock as you feel yourself inching towards an unfamiliar, tingly feeling building on itself deep in your body.

The feeling is better than just good. It's surpassed good at this point. It's absolutely euphoric. The way this man is making you ride his face and wiggling his tongue against every spot inside of you that sets your core on fire.

"I'm gonna cum, Peter..."

A switch goes off in his brain and you feel him amp up the flicker of his tongue, this time directly over your tender clit, you clench and seize involuntarily but to no avail as his arms lock you over his face.

"Peter...Peter please..." You moans turn to pathetic to pleas but they fall on deaf ears. Peter continues drowning in your pussy, his wet tongue pressed against your clit, pressing and pulsing, prodding you closer to the edge you've never met, that sweet peak of ecstasy you've only heard and read about.

"Cum for me beautiful...all over my face..."

The blissful end Peter is bringing lovingly, rapidly to your whole body, a smug smile on his face as he watches your desperate reaction, fighting against every natural urge in your body to scream as you come undone. Peter closes his eyes with a loud groan as you cum all over his face, littering tiny kisses all over your thighs as he sucks each droplet onto his tongue.

---

Peter's cleaning himself up with a spare towel you fetched from the hall closet, not minding the simmering ache in his cock with all his bottled up cum, giving you that rugged, dimpled smile as you plant a soft kiss on his cheek in affectionate gratitude, his button down shirt now hanging off your body in a simple display of aftercare.

It would have to do for now. Had this little encounter occured at his place, he'd already have you in a warm bath, only to likely give in to his quieted inhibitions before he fucked you once more, your breathy squeals reverberating against his bathroom tile.

A soft thump from down the hall sends you both reeling, you become a basketball star on the spot as you aim and hurtle the cum rag through the air, launching it into your open bedroom door and onto your darkened bed, yanking the large blanket over both of you on the couch, gulping when you hear your dad's muffled footsteps getting increasingly louder, then tapering off as they disappear inside the bathroom with a noisy grunt.

Peter's hand finds yours underneath the blanket. The sheer comfort of his soft palm sending waves of warmth up your arm and across your chest. Peter looks over the edge of the couch to find your dad disappearing inside his room with a quiet latch of his door, pulling you against his chest once more, weaving little kisses into your hair.

"That was a close one..." you murmur, nuzzling a little closer against his bare chest.

He chuckles quietly. "Can't let him know I'm completely crazy about his pretty daughter..."

You giggle and bring his fingers to your lips, a quiet spark in his chest that threatens to fan into an uncontrolled burn once again as you softly kiss his fingertips, his lips gently parting as he purrs contentedly under your touch.

"You never fucked me like you said you would."

Peter smiles, biting his lip as he teases one of his fingers into your mouth. "I didn't, did I..."

You hum, swirling your tongue around his finger just like you were doing to his cock. Peter groans at the erotic memory.

"How about I take you on a real date first..."

"Really?" You smile, which he can't help but blush too at your excitement.

"Yes, really. As much as I'd like to go to your room and take you right now, I want our first time together to be special."

He gently toys with your lips, not removing his eyes from them in an intimate stare. "I'd want to have all the time in the world with you. No interruptions...no sneaky dads down the hallway..." He teases, to which your cheeks burn as you look away.

"Just all night with you and me, sweetheart. But only after I buy you whatever food your heart desires. Sounds good?"

Your smile nearly breaks your cheeks as you melt at his romantic proposition. "Sounds perfect to me," you answer softly.

"Good..." He flashes a dazzling smile back at you, cradling your face in his hands.

The heat from his skin pressed against your bare cheek deliberately makes your mind go fuzzy, your eyes seized by a delayed wave of tiredness as your body realizes the late hour.

Peter senses it too, doing his best to lay you back on the couch so you can sleep undisturbed but you pull him closer,

"Just a little longer, Peter?"

"Haha...awh, baby. If you say so. Just a little longer."

He hugs you close against his chest, your face tucked into the crook of his neck, fighting off sleep just a bit more so he can cuddle his new beautiful girlfriend while her dad stayed clueless in dreamland down the hall, trying to figure out what flowers he'd present you with at dinner, maybe a little bracelet or locket to go with it to mark you as his.

He sighs and strokes your shoulder but doesn't dare to close his eyes as he bids you quiet goodnight with a kiss on your sleeping lips, stealing a spare t-shirt from your dad from the laundry basket and his suit jacket off the coat rack on the way out. His white button down with his scent enveloping you in restful sleep on the couch.

----

@huniedeux @mrsoharaa @reverieblondie @slushycoookie @monarchberrysblog @gltzpzy I know you wanna read it Alicia lol 😁🤭

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prismuffin · 1 year

Note

Hey hey it’s me again lol. Can I request (Comic one where he’s an adult) Peter Parker x M!Reader who is a detective? Maybe he keeps visiting him during work and Reader has to remind him that he’s working. I want to thank you for taking my requests and I love reading your stuff. 🫶

A/n: awww this idea sounded so cute I love it😭 sorta a long one, im sorry?? idk if thats a bad thing

Distraction

Peter B. Parker x male!detective!reader

( summary: when your boyfriend Peter comes to drop off your lunch he decides to bother you for the rest of the day instead of leaving )

Warning?: light swearing, talk of guns, slight violence

!-!more under the cut!-!

After the events of spider-verse Peter had tried to fix his old life, make amends with Mary Jane and become the hero that New York needed once again, only it didn't entirely work out that way. He had tried to go back to MJ only to see that she was in a whole new relationship; he still talked to her though, told her the things he should've said years ago and she consoled him, told him to move on in his life and find someone new. So he did, he moved on and started working out a bit more, started showing up and stopping crime again which led him to meeting you.

You were a successful detective working for and with the NYPD, solving cases before and after they happen, so you hung around Spiderman a lot. You two would have playful banter whenever you crossed paths. You'd have silent competitions over who could stop and catch the most criminals (it was always gonna be him but you actually do give him a run for his money). He liked you more than he admitted. He was so scared of fucking up again that he just put this distance between you two, leaving his sly, flirty, playful remarks as the only sign of affection he could show you. He hit this rock bottom state again where the only thing he could think about was failing and you and failing you. He'd have nightmares about him not being able to save you, texting you at the dead of night with the number you gave him for emergencies to make sure you're ok. Sometimes you'd scold him for wasting your time or waking you up but he didn't mind. He was stuck in this spiral and one night he decided to stop feeling so conflicted and tell you about how he felt, and he did, just not in the way he wanted to.

You'd been tracking some criminals for months and finally were one step ahead of them, or so you thought. You caught them once but they weren't found guilty. The police station you worked at didn't classify them as a threat because of that and the chief made you drop the case since it seemed to have gone cold, but you knew they were the culprits. You watched a bar from your car, waiting for the men you've been looking for to come out. You needed to catch them in the act so you had decided to stake it out. The bar door opened and your hand went to your gun as you spotted the men leaving. You quickly made sure your gun was loaded before grabbing your phone, texting Peter, or as you knew him, Spider-man your location and what you were doing just in case. You told him if you didn't respond in fifteen minutes to come and help since you weren't entirely sure if you could take the men on in a fight.

Your hunch was correct when you'd in fact lost the fight you had no chance of winning, hell telling Spider-Man not to come save your ass until fifteen minutes into the fight was being very generous for the criminals. Although, Peters worry for you had made him come and help 8 minutes earlier than you said, I mean he would've come earlier if he'd seen your text sooner but still. It was that night, when he had in fact saved you, when he decided to just come clean about his feelings towards you, even if you rejected him; and so Peter decided to take that leap of faith and asked you out which lead to moments like this, where you’re sat at your desk, looking out your window to see your boyfriend on the building next to yours, waving with a lunchbox in hand. You sigh and shake your head, getting up and closing the blinds not only to mess with him but also for your own sanity before sitting back down and turning back to your paper work. Of course your silence only lasted a few more minutes before a knock was heard on your office door. "Come in." You didn't need to look up from your paperwork to guess who it was, "Guess who brought you lunch~?" You couldn't help but smile at the sound of your boyfriends voice. "Thank you Peter," You looked up at him and smiled as he placed a lunch box on your desk.

He'd turned to leave and was at the doorway when he looked back and saw you move the lunchbox off to the side. "Are you not gonna eat it?" You heard Peter ask and your eyes snapped to his before glancing at the lunch box. "I will Petey, I'm just very busy right now." You gave him a close mouth smile and he crossed his arms, looking you up and down before shrugging. "Alright," you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding when Peter just moved on, usually he'd bother you or someth-

Your thoughts were cut off by your paperwork being snatched from your desk. Peter, who'd used his web shooters to grab your paper, looked at you, almost disapprovingly. "You're not getting this back until you eat that lunch. Do you know how much effort I put into making that." You rolled your eyes, but smiled, and grabbed the lunch that he'd packed. He sat down across from you and wasted no time getting comfortable, kicking his feet up and leaning back. "Peter, this is a gyro from Frank down the street, you didn't make this." He looked at you, down at the gyro, and back at you before shrugging. "Still took a lot of effort." You shook your head at his antics "Unbelievable.." You mumbled before taking a bite out of the gyro. The tapping of your pens got your attention as you watched Peter play with them like they were action figures.

Even after you finished eating he wouldn't stop bugging you, poking your shoulders as you wrote and calling you overworked, which was true, but there wasn't much you could do about it. He was usually like this on slow crime days where he found there was little conflict on the streets of New York which would lead to him thinking about you and missing you and then showing up at your job either as Spider-man coming in to "address official crime business," or as Peter Parker to drop off his boyfriends lunch or to give his boyfriend a file he left at their apartment. Though times when he distracts you like this are annoying you still find them sweet since he does this when he misses you.

"Alright," You placed your pen down after being prodded by Peter for the 127th time. "If we cuddle on the couch for five minutes will you leave me alone to do my work?" Peter looked up and hummed to seem like he was thinking before smiling and nodding. "Yeah alright that's fair, but, lets make it ten minutes." "Fine." You got up and Peter cheered, practically leaping on the couch in your office. He opened his arms for you with a large smile on his face and you respectfully plopped right into them. You both let out identical sighs as you snuggled up into each other, your stress melting away as Peter rubbed your back. "ugh god, you're such a distraction Pete.." you mumbled with your eyes closed, the feeling of sleep creeping up on you. Peter just hummed, looking at you with adoration in his eyes. You both were definitely on that couch for longer than ten minutes but neither of you seemed to mind.

----!----

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Masterlist

#peter parker #peter b parker #Peter b. parker #Peter b. parker x reader #peter b. parker x male reader #male reader #marvel x male reader #marvel x reader #peter b. parker x you #spiderverse x you #spiderverse x reader #x male reader #Peter Parker x reader #Peter parker x you #Peter parker x male reader #prismuffin

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saturncodedstarlette · 10 months

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Canon Event. That’s what happened.

They failed to save [YOU]

Song : Feel Better — Penelope Scott

Dance to ignore the pain

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ivfrankenstein · 9 months

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STILL WANNA TRY I peter b. parker x fem! reader

summary: peter b. is fine, more than that, his life’s fine. but beyond this life of his, there is someone else he’s looking out for. someone he was lucky enough to get to know, despite the impossibility of the event. warnings: light angst; y/n, like miles, is from earth-1610. a/n: also, 🎧 sza — good days; eng isn’t my 1st language, gif: @brucewaynes <3

if he decided to say it again, then peter’s brain would truly die.

“this is not a canon event.” and there it was! bam! he was done and no one even noticed. “spider-man, belonging to their world, died before the meeting,” meanwhile, miguel continued with the same tenacity he’d used the first two hundred times, “which should have been a canon event. their canon event.”

“urgh..” peter scratched his nose bridge exhaustedly; the last one made him more annoyed than hurt. he was ready for it. he knew for sure miguel would push and push until he succeeded. “i got that part right at the beginning.”

“and i naively thought i’d explained the whole thing clearly.” o’hara grumbled, “so, where was i?” you’d think he’d really forgotten, but that couldn’t have happened to him; he was certainly just making a scene, causing parker to roll his eyes, “coincidentally, that y/n met—”

“me!” peter said with a teenage boy smile growing on his face, as if it had been just someone else’s mischief that had played right into his hand.

what difference did it make? he was there, and he was the one she had met. it was undeniable. a friend he didn’t know he needed in the universe of another peter parker he didn’t know existed.

“he’s more pleased to say it was him who met her.” LYLA was kind enough to notify, as she instantly arrived on the spot, proving yet again that she was never really gone.

“that’s because that’s what happened,” peter explained courteously, facing the small holographic figure, “i flew right into y/n standing at the crossroads!” there was no need to reproduce the events of that evening with that detail, but parker missed no opportunity to play the part of a nerve-itcher, and demonstrated his flight and the following crash with his hands, “i’ll say, i hit her, if you prefer.”

before LYLA could respond, miguel cut in, “how does that change anything at all?” and distracted from further futile proceedings, “you know the rules.”

to everyone’s amazement, peter didn’t lose the thread of the conversation, “i know.” his goofy mood turned to off-mode, “i’m gonna keep an eye on her. that’s the end of it.”

of course, that was the end of it. could he have responded otherwise? given the o’hara tragedy that parker had to watch, what else was it acceptable for him to do? it can’t happen. it just can’t. because he’s not that into it, is he?

o’hara fixed him with a challenging stare; peter could see why he found it hard to believe, “and what are you gonna do if something, anything, happens?” he took a couple steps, and his shadow covered LYLA, who sat in the air as if there were something to sit on.

“they have their own local spider-man, right?” he tried to get away with his signature smirk, but miguel remained impervious, so he repeated what o’hara expected him to say, “i’ll be watching from the side.”

it looked like they were running in circles one after the other, and were so utterly worn out by this conversation and what lay beneath it. old friend, he wanted to believe that he wouldn’t make the same mistakes, that he was a better man.

o’hara hoped that peter, knowing the risks, wouldn’t do that to y/n, or at least to himself, “let him see her.”

“how about please?” corrected LYLA and folded her arms across her chest, waiting.

“please.” peter said instead.

and just like that, LYLA softened. miguel left full of silence, but here was peter, and he had captured all her attention the last few months with this girl from earth-1610.

“so tell me now, you’re what, kind of, fallin’ for her?”

“whoa, and that’s exactly what people have termed uncomfortable questions.” they only had time to get to a screen that was a couple feet away before he bumped into that question.

“in your case, only the answers can be uncomfortable.” she was searching among the thousands of thousands of dots scattered in front of them on a sort of map, and peter didn’t have time to fix his eyes on any of them, “you’re married, man. or divorced? i get lost.”

and even that didn’ t surprise him, “that has nothing to do with it.” the feeling he had to deal with all this time was loss. and he didn’t think at all about why. because it’s okay. he missed miles, and loved miles, he missed y/n, a-a-and he loved her, too.

“then what?” LYLA wasn’t even looking at him, but something told him she could see him and without turning around, “you’ve been there, you’ve come back. what’s keeping you up?”

peter’s eyebrows raised a little, “but i’m fine.” she definitely got him wrong.

“uh-huh.”

he took an eloquent breath, “as i’ve said before and as you never tire of reminding me, their parker died. and it was a canonical event for y/n. can’t i jus’ be curious?”

she turned around, “you could. it’s just that you’re a different kind of guy. it doesn’t sit right with you. you’re good, clumsy, old and sometimes you can be a lot,” after fixing her glasses, she added, “and i’d probably conclude that you’re in love with her. look!”

and there she was, exactly where LYLA was pointing. the girl of his dreams. coming up in a rush of holographic figures. peter hadn’t seen her like this in a months already.

“almost as if she were really here,” he said under the impression.

it wasn’t the first time he’d seen this trick, but LYLA decided to clarify just in case, because the reaction wasn’t clear to her, “it only works one way. she won’t see you.” and the way her voice came out, she found herself upset by that fact, too.

but peter, like he said, was fine, “i know.” the corner of his lips lifted in a half smile, “i don’t think she wants to see me anyway.”

#peter b. parker #peter b. parker x reader #peter b. parker x fem reader #peter b. parker imagine #peter b. parker x you #peter b. parker x y/n #accross the spiderverse imagine #atsv imagines #spiderman atsv #atsv peter b parker #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine

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swiftyangx12 · 10 months

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🕷️The Adventures of Agent Arachnis!🕸️

[Ep. 1: Two Sides of the Universe]

[Valorant x Marvel]

[Synopsis]: Just your friendly Valorant agent who tries to balance both sides of the same coin.

[Gender Neutral Reader]

[TW]: Some cursing, little violence, may be OOC with the characters

[(A/N)]: You can go back and check the first post about the Valorant x Marvel crossover.

[Earth-2020-2]

[Location: FRACTURE]

Arachnis: *Hiding at Site B and reloading their Frenzy* These Omega asses…

[Their Multiverse watch starts alarming the Spider Radiant, annoying them in the process.]

Arachnis: Oh my god. *Answers the call* What? Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something?

Miguel: Nice hearing from you, Arachnis.

Arachnis: Oh, O’Hara. I’m busy trying to save my world right now. What is it this time?

Miguel: Another variant leaked into your dimension and it’s moving fast.

Arachnis: What? Now? *Sighs* Guess I’m shooting it down then.

Miguel: Don’t. You barely managed to not kill off that Doc Ock variant from last time.

Arachnis: Right. Tore that bastard to pieces.

Miguel: Just trap the anomaly and bring it back to HQ.

Arachnis: Got it, boss.

Jett: Was that your boss, [Y/N]?

Arachnis: Yes and I’m starting to feel annoyed around him than fearing his existence lately.

Jett: He looks cute.

Arachnis: Excuse me? He’s built like a tarantula on steroids. *Spider senses triggered* It’s here.

[A portal opens in the sky, some unidentified object flew out and about to cause havoc.]

Phoenix: Uh guys?

Sage: Arachnis, I believe you have some business to take care of.

Arachnis: A Vulture variant? Get it distracted.

Jett: Will do! *Updrafts high enough to distract the Vulture* Over here, ugly! *Throws her kunai knives at it*

Vulture: *Barely dodges the attack* What are you doing?!

Arachnis: *Places their gun down and shoots web at the Vulture* Full spider mode! *Yanks themselves towards their enemy*

[The Spider Radiant first lands a punch at the Vulture and then kicks it down, falls ungratefully to the ground. Everyone tackles it down from escaping.]

Vulture: *Struggles to be released* Let go of me!

Arachnis: *Cocks their Frenzy* Uh uh! No way. You have wings, I have a gun ready to shoot your feathered-ass head.

Vulture: Do it! Shoot me!

Arachnis: *CLICK!*

Vulture: *Flinches* Oh my god, you were about to shoot me!

Sage: [Y/N].

Arachnis: I’m sorry. *Reloads the gun* But it needs to cooperate. Now, calm down and I’ll help send you back to your dimension. We’ll release you if cooperation is present. *Nods at their team*

[The Valorant agents cautiously release their bonds against the villain.]

Vulture: *Pushes everyone off* Finally! I’m free!

Arachnis: *Punches it out cold* Nope. *Encases it with the holographic trap*

《🕷️》

[Earth-928, Spider Society HQ]

Arachnis: *Drags in the unconscious Vulture variant* Anyone order chicken?

Miles: *Surprised* You took down the Vulture all by yourself?

Arachnis: Actually, my team aided me when we were on a mission at FRACTURE. Brimstone and everyone else are keeping this on the low so hopefully people back on Earth-2020-2 won’t mistaken these villains as Rogue Radiants.

Gwen: [Y/N], you sound concerned. Did something happen back in your dimension?

Arachnis: *Nods and shakily sighs* Non-Radiants called us freaks after the First Light and blamed our existence for the unnatural occurrences that happened. Some of us had to go low-profile and Radiant related crimes skyrocketed over the past months. Even Kingdom was under suspicion during those times while responsible for the Radianite development.

[Miles and Gwen look at each other with concern for their friend.]

《🕷️》

[Spider HQ-Lobby]

[Arachnis was alone watching old news clips of the Venice incident and other covers of the First Light on their phone.]

Arachnis: *Sighs in solemn*

Peter B. Parker: Hey [Y/N], why the long face?

Arachnis: Oh, Peter. It’s nothing. Just today I realized how much a disaster would be if I didn’t catch the Vulture.

Peter B. Parker: Gwen and Miles told me about your world’s history. *Sits next to them* Wanna talk about it?

Arachnis: *Shrugs* It’s only that I don’t want anymore people to misunderstand Radiants like me or others I care for. I still remember the first time I received my powers. Just me, working at my old job while minding my business until that event happened. I got so spooked that I jumped high enough to stick to the ceiling. Everybody around me freaked out and I had to flee away from the sight.

Peter B. Parker: Oh kid, I’m sorry you experienced that.

Mayday: *Crawls into Arachnis’s arms* *Looks up worried for them*

Arachnis: Oh Mayday… *Pushes the hair out of her face* I’ll be okay so don’t worry too much about me.

Peter B. Parker: Oh! How about this? Everyone tours around your world and show us a fun time. Maybe introduce us to your Valorant buddies.

Arachnis: Are you sure? My colleagues can be unpredictable at times.

Peter B. Parker: Come on. We dealt worst things on the job.

Arachnis: Alright. Don’t complain that I didn’t warn you.

《🕷️》

[Earth-2020-2, Valorant Protocol HQ]

Arachnis: Guys, this is my Valorant team.

Valorant Team: Hey/Sup!/Greetings/Hello!/Hi.

Arachnis: Team, these are my Spider colleagues.

Spider Gang: Hey/Sup!/Greetings/Hello!/Hi.

Brimstone: I hope you kids are treating them fairly and respectfully.

Miles: Of course, sir! They’re really amazing at their job and taught us so many things. Look! *Attempts to twirl a practice switchblade*

Arachnis: Yep. I’m an awesome instructor.

Pavitr: You should see how they sparred with our leader.

Hobie: Never knew the boss could fly.

Arachnis: I forgot to control my enhanced strength and I apologized to him after the session.

《🕷️》

[Everybody who was present at the base were getting along with Arachnis’s new colleagues.]

Reyna: Show us your fangs, araña~

Arachnis: Reyna, I don’t want to scare the kids.

Peter B. Parker: It’s fine. We see villains with fangs all the time.

Arachnis: You sure about that?

Peter B. Parker: *Nods*

Arachnis: *Sighs* *Carefully removes their mask and bares out their fangs leaking venom*

Peter B. Parker: *Taken aback* Whoa! You produce venom?!

Viper: They donate the venom to researchers for medical-graded anti-venom.

Arachnis: Turns out it’s CDC approved, despite the venom coming from me.

《🕷️》

[Earth-928, Spider-Man 2099’s office]

Miguel: Lyla, where’s the goober?

Lyla: You mean gizmo, right?

Arachnis: *Just arrived to drop off some papers* Everything alright, O’Hara?

Lyla: He can’t find his gizmo.

Miguel: Goober.

Arachnis: *Pulls out a hard drive* You mean this thing? *Tosses it up to his platform*

Miguel: *Catches it*

Arachnis: And who calls anything a goober? Should’ve been called a thing-a-ma-jig or something.

Miguel: *Confused* What?

Arachnis: I don’t know. My other colleague, KJ calls some things like that. If I didn’t fear you as much, I would’ve called you a goober for saying that word, Goober.

Lyla: Pfft Hahahaha!!! I like your style, [Y/N].

Miguel: *Rolls his eyes* Very funny. Anything more to say? “Tarantula on steroids”.

Arachnis: *Falls silent and squints at Miguel* …The call didn’t end, did it.

Miguel: That’s why the hard drive exists.

Arachnis: … *Shoots some web up and swings themselves to the platform* *Lands on platform and glares up at Miguel* Get rid of it.

Miguel: *Smile smugly* I don’t think so.

Arachnis: … *Cracks their knuckles*

《🕷️》

Jessica Drew: Miguel, there’s something you need to look into- *Looks up* What is going on here?

[Miguel and Arachnis were fighting while Lyla was recording the whole fight.]

Miguel: *Head-locking Arachnis while stretching out his arm away where he’s holding the hard drive* It’s not what it looks like.

Arachnis: *Elbows Miguel hard in his stomach*

Miguel: *Hunches forward in pain*

Arachnis: *Grabs the hard drive* He recorded early audio of me for no reason! *Gets tackled down*

Miguel: *Grabs it back* It’s classified.

Arachnis: *Grabs it back with their web* You could’ve end the call.

Miguel: *Picks them up from the ground*

Arachnis: *Internally panicking* Do I even weigh anything to you?

Miguel: No, it’s like holding a couple of grapes.

《🕷️》

[Earth 2020-2, Valorant Protocol HQ, Workshop]

[Arachnis, tweaking up their Web-Shooters and random thoughts occurred.]

Arachnis: “Don’t have thoughts of O’Hara. He’s nothing but an uptight, aggressive, emotionally unstable, traumatized Spider-Man variant. He’s not worth your time…”

[Arachnis then thinks of domming over him.]

Arachnis: FUCK!!!

Killjoy: *Startled* Arachnis, is everything okay?

Arachnis: No! I can’t stop imagining how to kick my boss’s ass!

[Nice save, [L/N].]

🕷️[Reblogs helps creators and creates for more content]🕸️

[Tagged]: @theladyheroine @hhurric4ne @l0serloki @neonviolet

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justsomerandomfanfic · 6 months

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Fanfic Friday - 10/27/23 - Poll

Summaries (sorry if they're terrible XD):

Peter B. Parker X GN Reader - Title: Chrysanthemums, Dahlias, and Lavender - Fluff/Angst;

Summary: Peter B. sits with you and remembers the day he met you. From meeting on the playground, walking down high school halls, and sharing your first kiss... Post Into The Spiderverse.

Peter Parker (Noir) X Fem Reader - Title: It Had To Be You - Fluff/Angst;

Summary: After falling into your dimension, Peter tries to find a way back to his, but doesn't expect falling a third time... Falling for you. But as the years go by, Peter never expected to run into two familiar faces, realizing that he doesn't have a choice but to leave you. Post Into The Spiderverse/Post Across The Spiderverse.

Jaime Reyes X GN Reader - Title: Bittersweet Goodbye - Fluff/Slight Angst;

Summary: College is over, you and Jaime should be celebrating, but he has to go home. Pre Blue Beetle.

Ryan! Ken X Female Reader - Title: Dance The Night Away - Fluff/Mini Angst;

Summary: After the events of the Ken's taking over Barbie Land, you are hired by Mattel to check in on the magical land alike to a town in Sweden. Even though they don't really need you checking in, all the Barbies got it covered, you meet Ken. Ken is immediately intrigued by you and spends a lot of time with you. Post Barbie

Regulus Black X Female Reader - Title: They Say It's Forbidden - Fluff/Angst;

Summary: You and Regulus are in love, but James and Sirius aren't really fond of the Slytherin... And they'll do everything in their power to stop the two of you from staying together.

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holy-minseok · 6 months

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We need mean!reader, angry!reader, misunderstood!reader, creepy!reader, gross!reader, toxic!reader, nonforgiving!reader, selfish!reader, narcissistic!reader, dark!reader, FEDUP!reader. That bitch is way too nice, passive, and sensible. ✋🏾😂

#where my crazy writers at!!!!#please I need a break from a nice reader w the perfect relationship. I’m tired on pretending I’m not crazy #cillian murphy x reader #eddie munson x reader #mike schmidt x reader #bruce wayne x reader #stu macher x reader #top gun imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tlou imagine #imagine #Peter Parker x reader #rafe cameron x reader #john b x reader #aaron taylor johnson x reader #simon riley x reader #edward nashton x reader #bradley bradsaw x reader #rhett abbott x reader

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moonlesslights · 10 months

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Two Idiots in Love

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Warnings: Sex, P in V, choking, breeding kink, innuendos, Miguel it's fucking hard to talk to.

A/N: Hope you enjoy this, I haven't sleep well for three days trying to get it done, but it's finally here. Love y'all xoxox

━━━━━━✧❂✧━━━━━━

Ok, but what about you becoming an Spider just about a year ago?

You are managing just fine.

Things got nasty for a while, that’s true. Your uncle died, your new responsibilities caught up on you, you almost die fighting some bad guys on your first months… And now you just try to eat three times a day (sometimes it doesn’t happen), pray to get more than six hours of sleep and do good in college.

But then, out of fucking nowhere, just when you were making peace with what your life was now and who you are, your identity, your place in this big ass world where you were completely alone to bear this double life… This giant prick with sullen face and cheeks the size of the moon comes into your life to tell you you’re not alone, everyone here has experienced the same or worse, stop being so dramatic.

So, in a second, your protagonist moment turns to you finding out there were thousands like you out there. And your whole life goes upside down.

Because now you don’t have to protect and look out only for your Earth, your city; but everyone else’s too. You have to travel to the most craziest worlds you could’ve ever imagine and fight horrible creatures you couldn’t even conceive its existence. And to make things even worst, Mr. Wide Hindquarters took an special hold of you to help him out with anything he would be ‘to busy’ to do. Like inform new recruits about their missions, filling out reports, doing research either respecting to what he occupied in the laboratory or to some universe yet to be explored… Whatever he needed, you would be called in to do it.

Some Spiders told you you were lucky, not many could work that close to Miguel, let alone being in charge of so many things without screwing something up and getting ‘their head ripped’. Even Lyla tells you that you’re something special, specially on the hard days, that’s why Miguel trusts you so much. After that you would just smile tiredly at her, whispering it was okay. Then Lyla would go face Miguel and demand him with a raised eyebrow to give you a break.

You manage for a few months, surrendering yourself to this strange routine. And your even more strange companion.

Every day you walk in to his space, every day he is already there. You turn a personal mission to arrive before he does. You never make it. The man apparently didn’t sleep and you aren’t waking the fuck up at 3:00am to prove a point or find out. So you let it be as another mystery to be solved.

“Good morning.” You wave your hand at him, making your presence known with that. Sometimes between a yawn, sometimes still cleaning the sleepiness off of your eyes.

“Good morning…” He always adds your last name to his greetings. It makes you feel like you are being scolded. Most of the time he is at the tables, working through the screens; if he’s not there, he’s at the lab, measuring substances with the help of crystal clear instruments.

Without looking at you, he points with his chin to the steaming coffee under the express machine. Through the weeks he has learned exactly how you like it. The first ones he made you were exactly like his: Awful. That couldn’t be drinkable. But you thought it was nice of him to always have hot coffee for you, so you didn’t say anything. But the faces you made at every sip were worth a thousand words.

Now, as you drink today’s, you cannot avoid thinking how cute that big stoic man must look every morning pouring the exact amount of sugar and cream you like into the cup. Moving the liquid with a tiny spoon until is all mixed.

He doesn’t talk much.

No more than orders and “Go home” followed by a “Good night”. You let him be for the first weeks. Not your business. But after the first month you knew you would go crazy if you continued this way of living.

You needed to talk to him. You needed to make things less awkward. He was your only human contact sometimes for entire days, and you cannot stand the fact of barely talking to him.

You don’t have idea how does the term “coworkers” serves on his Earth, but in yours, Human Relationships are encouraged to happen for the sake of teamwork.

With that very idea well tangled on your mind, one of those long days, you take a deep breath, imagine him naked (which isn’t difficult to be honest), stare deep into the space and say:

“Sohowhaveyoubeen?” Squeaking as fast as you can.

Miguel stops whatever the hell he is doing and turns his head to the right, side eyeing you with a raised eyebrow. You don’t even look at him, continuing to fill the document in front of you with the most unstable smile he could have seen in his entire life. Then, he turns around again, coming back to typing into one of the screens. You almost think he has completely ignored you until he answers in another fast and neutral line:

“I’m good.”

You give him an acknowledging nod, smiling softly and returning to your duties.

You had never wished so much to be victim of a lost bullet. Like right now. Like right fucking now. Please.

For one more week you took another personal mission: making a question a day.

“How was your day?”, “Did you have breakfast?”, “How was yesterday’s mission?”… It would be a good day if you got more than a monosyllable for answer. It was embarrassing, really. And Lyla looking at you with a grimace made it ten times worst.

After that, you just came in the eighth day and remained silent, focused in finishing all your work as soon as possible rather than trying to make your prick boss to talk to you. You felt bad, actually. Maybe he just doesn't like to talk, maybe you were making him uncomfortable, maybe... Maybe he's just an arse. Yeah, that is probably the right...

"Hm? Uh, what... What is this?" You look up from your tablet, facing the broad of his back walking to the desk at the other side of the room. You raise an eyebrow at the small cardboard box in front of you, the one that Miguel just left there.

"Food." He says as answering the very question to the origin of the universe.

"For me?" You tilt your head and he looks at you like you were stupid. You frown. How were you supposed to know that, when he barely even looks at you?!

"I did too much." He explains. "... So I brought you some. You can throw it away if you don't want it."

You look down at the box again, watching it as the weirdest of things, and cannot help the little smile that creeps up to your lips. You knew Miguel didn't eat at the HQ cafeteria, since he owns an apartment close from here, so this was completely homemade. Hm, you never thought he was into cooking.

"Why can't I give it to someone else if I don't like it?" You respond with an easy smile, almost teasing him.

"Throw it." He sentences without even looking back at you.

You side eye Lyla at your left, who winks at you. This is a whole ass victory. And you and the little hologram girl knew internally Miguel did not like the day you decided to stop trying to talk to him.

"Thank you." You finally murmur. "I really appreciate it."

"It's just leftovers..."

You nod, pursing your lips and… Still smiling. Fuck it. It was obvious he was going to dismiss it with something like that.

None of you says anything else for the rest of the day, but you make the choice to keep trying on the small talk every day and Miguel, apparently, started to mess up the amount of ingredients for his meals and brings leftovers almost daily.

You continue with this new routine for another couple of weeks.

With the time passing, you gain more and more confidence to talk to the big guy. Most of the times he doesn’t engage in the conversation, it is just you saying your thoughts out loud and telling him everything about your life at college, 'till the point he has a personal beef with some of your classmates. I mean, he doesn’t say it but he surely grunts under his breath every time you mention their name.

Gwen did asked you at some point if he really listened to you or if he just... Left you. You wondered the same for exactly... two hours.

"... And I handed him my essay, right? And he looks at me and says: 'So are you going to tell me who is helping you with these or am I going to find out myself?' So I obviously told him nobody was helping me, I just like doing them. And he freaking threatened me saying that if he founds out he's going to fail me. Like... He doesn't even listens. Agh, he hates me..."

"Is the same one who got angry because you were late to his lecture about himself and his recently published book?" That was a week ago. And he remembered.

You nod, sighing. Miguel clicks his tongue, shaking his head with disapproval.

He might not be talkative (at least for now) but he listens to you. You have no doubt left about that. He may not say a single word while you drop a hundred for minute, but he would come the next day asking "How was the test?" or would know you have classes with that professor and add to his daily good night a soft "Good luck tomorrow." You even start catching him lifting the left corner of his lips when you drop a bad joke about all the things you need to get done by the end of the day or about something you heard on your way there.

You noticed it when certain Spider came in to a meeting, a Spider two days ago you and Miguel had gossiped about because you were told something by your friends on Wednesday, Miguel heard some more on Thursday and with a final comment you put the pieces together on Friday, looking at him with a wide proud open mouth as he shook his head with a soft chuckle. Talking to the Spider in question Miguel would turn to you with the most neutral and blank expression and you would still fight to hide your smile at the memory of everything you found out during the week. No one ever noticed and you liked it. Miguel liked it. It was like a private joke only the two of you could share.

"But what would happen?" This was the part Miguel didn't like. "Like, how would you know I would fuck up something?"

"You cannot give Noir a kaleidoscope." He sentences, giving you another raised eyebrow.

You were in the middle of the daily session of Instructive and Informative questions, according to Lyla and you. Miguel prefers to call them Destructive and Irritating.

After today's mission you had taken a particular soft spot fo the black and white Spider, to the misfortune of your boss. So the whole session has been about the long shot of taking special gifts from your dimension to him.

"But why? Really, what's the worst that could happen if I just give him a tiny little kaleidoscope?"

"Ay, Dios, dame paciencia... You already gave him a rainbow slinky spring toy, why do you keep insisting on gifting him more stuff?"

He fix his gaze on you as you lower your eyes down to your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. "... He just looks happy when he sees color."

Miguel sighs, pressing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.

"I know, but every one of us needs to respect the natural order of our Earth. He shouldn't keep taking things with him that shouldn't be there, do you understand?"

"But..."

"No more 'but's'. I want those reports done by the end of the day." Miguel returns his eyes back to the screen in front of him, dismissing you just with that action. "Get to work instead of keep losing our time with this."

He hates the way you comply to his orders. Hates the way you leave the space beside him empty to go working at the other side of the room, where he can only see your back. He hates when you refuse him to see your face.

The human part in him hates the questioning sessions because they always end up with your heart too big for your own good, crushed a little bit more. The human part in him is what brings him closer to you after a few minutes, talking you through some trivial topics until he can convince you it is all not as bad a it seems, until you smile again when you insist it's okay, that you just needed a minute, that you understand. And he might o might not tell you can give Noir that fucking kaleidoscope if you want it so much.

But some deep and primal part in him whispers into his veins to walk up to you, take you by your jaw, forcing you to look up at him and order you you better not refuse your face to him one more single time again. That if he wishes to see your eyes, the curve of your nose or your lips, you better fucking show them to him... Every day. Every. Time. He. Wants. To.

He gets frustrated when he catches himself in the middle of those thoughts, of the drives. He has been able to control it magnificently 'till now. But he fears the day he won't.

For another while you enjoyed the 'leftovers' brought to you too. But it also came to happen the one day, they stopped being leftovers:

You yawn as you make your way to the exit of the lab, making sure your alarm for tomorrow is correctly scheduled, you can not afford another harsh look from your professors one more time. The building has fallen silent already; most of its ordinary inhabitants have already retired to their rooms or to their home worlds.

Miguel walks up to you from behind, watching you standing at the door. Neither of them managed to see even a ray of sun today. He didn't care, he had something much better to watch all day… But he can't help but sigh at the thought of taking it from you.

"Italian or Mexican?" You turn to look at him, barely catching what he said. Both of your brows furrow and he glares at you while adjusting the neck of his jacket on. "For tomorrow's lunch. You want me to bring Italian or Mexican?"

"Oh, uhm..." You widen your eyes, surprised by the consideration. Pursing your lips and squinting, you think about it for a second, but the only possible answer comes immediately after: "Mexican."

"Hm." He nods, fixing his eyes to the front again.

Both start walking now towards the exit of the building. You know you can open your portal to go back home now, but you refuse to do so. Miguel knows there's an exit on the other side of the lab that leads him to a closer path to his apartment, but he refuses to take it. Because you always take this one.

"It's getting chilly." You whisper, watching the first snowflakes of the season falling on the other side of the big windows in the lobby. Miguel hums in response. "I like it, though. The first month working with you I had to carry a fan with me everywhere. I am so sorry for the cost of the electricity bill back then."

Miguel tugs at one corner of his lips, but only that. You tilt your head, glaring at him for a second before you take two fast steps to put yourself in front of him. The poor man has to stick his feet to the floor to avoid knocking over you.

He frowns, confused, and you look up at him with those same eyes filled with determination you put on when you look at the cookies he always -purposely- leaves on top of the highest cupboard in his office. He could only describe it as the face of a master plan, because you would always come back with ideas to get them down without asking him for help. And he loved to play guess with what you would do this time.

"Smile for me." You ask as you were some kind of cameraman, and if he was confused before he's into a new level now.

"What?"

"Y'know..." You bring both of your index fingers to the opposite sides of your face and part your own lips into a simple smile, like showing him what he was supposed to do.

"I know what smiling is." He frowns. "Why do you want me to do it?"

You shrug. "I just... I would be really happy to see it."

Miguel's expression remains unfazed, but he prays to every God out there you can't listen how hard his heart jumped inside his chest when your words reached him.

He swallows. His eyes fix on you and he brings both of the corners of his mouth up, exposing bright teeth and two big fangs that brush on his lower lip in the most precious awkward smile you could have ever seen. His brows are drawn together and he looks like he's in pain, and you know that even if a fucking meteor crashed down in the city right now, you still wouldn't be able to look away.

You clear your throat and lament how his smile is gone as soon as it came. You brush your hand at the back at your neck, nervous, fucking ashamed of your imprudence. Miguel raises an eyebrow at your reaction.

"Thank you. That was nice of you." You smile, avoiding his eyes and solely focusing on the snow awaiting for you. "I'm sorry if it was unpleasant for you. I didn't mean..."

Your words get caught up in your throat when you suddenly feel the texture of fabric coming around your neck. You turn back to look at the front again only to find Miguel tugging his scarf on you, with his fingers making sure it hugged every part of your skin your sweater couldn't.

"Miguel, no. It's even colder here than on my Earth. You need this more than I do." You frown with a worried expression washing over your features.

"You'll come back tomorrow pretty early. And it's going to be cold." You could try and argue about you having your own scarfs to bring tomorrow with you, but his eyes tell you he is not asking.

"... Thank you."

Miguel laments the moment your turn around, laments the moment you don't look at him anymore. He is sure the smile from a minute ago hadn't been anywhere near one of his best, and yet your eyes shone with the light of all the moons he's seen in all of the Earths he has visited.

And as you do a little wave when you start walking away before entering your portal, Miguel waves back, slowly and with only two unsure swings of his wrist. It was enough to make you smile anyway. It was enough to keep him standing there even after you were long gone wondering what the hell he was doing.

When Miguel began to bring food made specially to share, you began to bring desserts from your Earth for him to try.

You both started having lunch together after you told him how tired you were of eating while standing. Don't get me wrong, when you first told him he 'offered' you to go eat at the cafeteria if you wanted it so much. But when he dismisses you for the second time the next day with a 15 minute break to go find somewhere to sit, you, instead, sit down reluctantly at the very center of his work space, just a few meters behind him.

Miguel has to do a fucking double take to make sure he is seeing right before turning around at you calmly crossing your legs on the floor and unboxing today's meal with abrupt and resigned movements.

"Could you be so kind as to explain to me what you are doing?" He tilts his head with amusement when you take the first bite of your food.

"Eating."

"Sitting on the floor?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Sitting on the floor." You nod.

"Care to explain why?" He crosses his arms, pursing his lips when you refuse to raise your eyes at him.

"... Because of you." You murmur, taking another unnecessarily aggressive bite.

"Elaborate, please."

You keep on looking down, chewing the morsel in your mouth. Miguel awaits for you with well known experienced patience. By now, he recognizes when you are mad at him or the world, he sees how you fight to keep calm inside of all of this mess, that's why he always tries to encourage you to talk out the things that bother you, because he's there, he can listen; because he likes the way you smile after you let it all out.

And maybe...

"I don't care about eat sitting comfortably at the cafeteria. I want to eat with you. So if you want to stay here be my fucking guest. I'm staying here too."

Because you were the only one who could throw a tantrum at Miguel O'Hara without flinching.

You have earned that right. You didn't know when, because you insist you don't throw tantrums at him; you're a college student, basically an adult, you don't do tantrums. And still...

"Fine, spoiled girl..." He sighs, walking to get his own little box from the table and then coming to close the space between the two with a few long steps. He sits down right beside you, imitating the way you're crossing your legs. "If you want to eat on the floor, we can eat on the floor."

"I'm not spoiled." You hiss, giving him a deadly side eye that puts on a soft, almost unnoticeable grin on his face. Lyla had made fun of him a few days ago about him spoiling you, but instead of getting on his nerves he took a liking for the nickname. And now you suffer the consequences of it all. "And we wouldn't be eating on the floor if you decided to go to the cafeteria for once."

"... I hate talking to people."

You sigh, nodding. That's exactly why you never push him to do anything of that sort.

"I know." You turn to look at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing how he keeps his head low while eating. "Hey" You call for his attention, smiling. He blinks up to you, tilting his head. "It's okay." Your shoulder drops to his arm. "I like being here. I'm not stuck with you, you're stuck with me."

That makes his eyes catch a little bit more of light.

"Thank you." He whispers.

You stare at him for a second more and he fights to put all of the mess inside his head, his feelings, into his tongue... But he can't. You continue eating, and he knows you would never hold a grudge on him for it, and he's so thankful for that, for you being able to understand the way his actions speak when his words can't. But he still aches at the thought of never being able to tell you everything he wants.

The next morning you walk in to find out a new cleared space beside the screens with an elegant glass table and two chairs. It surely looked expensive, like everything he does and has, but for you, it's just the little corner where you can leave that particular cake from your Earth he seems to like so much, and then go to the laboratory to see the cake you seemed to like so much.

After two more weeks enjoying the day-to-day in the usual things in your life, you and Miguel got to a mission which revealed as the true calmness before the storm.

The anomaly you had fought was stronger than expected, more aggressive, more letal. Everyone had run lucky at least two times to escape from its claws, but you can still remember their closeness, the screams, the sirens at the distance. It all almost ends up with another canonic event altered.

"There's always a first time." Jessica had told you when you finally finished off the anomaly. She was worried about you, and you can't blame her. You haven't even registered how bad you were trembling until it was all over.

"Is there going to be a last time?" You replied, looking up at her with big eyes. And Miguel, only a few meters behind you, still trying to give some last orders to every Spider there, felt his heart breaking at the very sound of your words.

Nevertheless, thankfully, the universe remained perfectly fine and just a couple of hours later everyone was back home safely again. Most returned immediately to their Home Earths, but you, Miguel, Jessica, Lyla and a couple more had ten thousand things to do in the HQ before calling it a day.

"I thought I told you to go home an hour ago." Miguel points, coming from behind you.

You turn your head to look up at him and you can't not smile at the sight. The feeling of safeness that floods you when you see his huge figure entering any room hasn't wavered for a single second. He's still that solid ground you can always rest on when the world is to heavy to carry alone.

"I'm serious. What are you doing here?" He continues, grunting in pain when he drops his weight beside you. You turn to him, furrowing your brows in worry again. He had seen that expression in you so often today... And he hates it so much. "I'm okay. Just little scratches here and there."

You withdrawn your feet from the edge of the building where you had them hanging for an hour now and crawl your way to him, sitting down on your knees to try to be eye height with him.

Your right hand wanders to his bruised neck, there where the anomaly had left his horrible mark of the violence it brought within. You follow with your index the way the clotted blood draws on his skin, sending shivers down his spine.

"Does it hurt?" You ask.

"No." He responds in between goosebumps.

He loves the effect your touch has on him. He loves your little hands looking for him, tugging at his clothes to call for his attention, brushing against his when you pass him the tablet, documents, anything. He loves the busy days where he doesn't have time to eat, where he wouldn't eat if it wasn't for you sitting beside him as he works on the screens, you scrolling through your cellphone, taking little pieces of food with a spoon or a fork to bring them closer to his mouth so he could eat without even taking his eyes off the screen.

Ridiculous? Yeah. But he loved the intimacy within. The many forms your soft hands could soothe him.

But his? He hated them. He was scared of them. Their only use was to destruct, to tear flesh apart, not to...

"Show me." He asks, pointing with his chin at your left hand placed softly above your thigh.

"It's nothing."

"Let me see it." He insist and you carefully bring your arm up, placing your fingers against his when he holds out his hand for you. Your whole palm is bandaged, the work the doctor did on you was amazing, but he can still see dried blood on it.

He doesn't say anything when he finds your eyes on him, conflicted, hesitant. There is so much between both of you, so much unsaid, so much still to do. But he sees your doubt, he hates to be the cause of it. He stays still, but he wants to scream at you, to make your little head understand: "How can't you see?! Can't you see how much you mean to me?! You're the only thing in my mind when I'm fighting, because I know I have to win, I have to get out alive to see you again. Eres lo único por lo que mi corazón llama!... Can't you not hear it?"

Instead, the tips of his fingers brush on your skin, his eyes reflecting every single light of the city below.

"Come." It's only a whisper that leaves his mouth, and you need nothing more to jump into his embrace with a desperate sigh, immediately cuddling yourself up on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, looking for his warm.

Hold.

He loves to hold you.

His hands serve to hold you.

To hold you against him, to protect you from anyone who wants to rip you away from his arms. To keep you warm, to keep you safe, to let you know you're home.

"Aquí estoy." He whispers.

"I know." You reply.

You breath into his scent for a couple of minutes more, until the screams and the sirens fell low to the sound of Miguel's chest going up and down in a soothing swing, his breathing, turning into the only thing you could listen to.

By the time you got your head out of his neck, he was already waiting for you with a soft smile, smile that puts your attention on the deep cut on his lower lip.

"What happened?" You ask, carefully pulling from his flesh to see the whole extension of the wound.

He sighs, closing his eyes with embarrassment. "I bit myself during the fight."

You smile, shaking your head. Your fingernail taps against the right fang in question, testing the edge by gently pressing the tip into your fingertip.

"I hate them." Miguel breaths out. His eyes are now so dim that you struggle to say where are they looking at in the middle of the night darkness.

"Why?" You whisper, taking your finger back at his lip.

"Because I fear of them. I fear they'll hurt you like they hurt me."

You purse your lips and then take his hand placed on your hip, looking back at him with raised eyebrows.

"Is the same with these?"

He nods.

"They are made to kill. I have done so many horrible things with, caused so much damage and pain, I..."

"Did you know I'm scared of heights?" His trail of words stop at your interruption. You smile, looking down from the edge, turning away form him just a little. "Ironic, for a Spider. But I still fight with it every single day. I always get so sticky when I'm on top of a building for too long it's embarrassing but..." You raise your hand in front of him, waving your fingers with a playful smile. "I'm not sticky now. And that it's because you're holding me." You cup his face. "Those things you're afraid of, are part of the person I love. And I wouldn't change a single thing."

"Mi cielo..."

"I knew what I was getting into when I decided to love you, Miguel, so don't get all soft now. I'm not going anywhere..." You whisper. "Make me bleed."

He would be lying if he said he haven't thought about it, that he haven't succumbed to his most animalistic urges when alone in the privacy of his room, pretending it was you around his cock and not his fist. He wanted to bite, he wanted to fill you. And he wanted to tear apart with his bare talons anyone and anything that got in his way.

A part of him might be scared to hurt you, yes.

But a bigger part of him was actually scared of what he would do to keep you safe. Of what he's capable of... to keep you his.

He feels sorry for you when you cuddle against his chest in your sleep as he stands up and starts walking back inside the building, covering you with his jacket to protect from the cold wind of the city for when he swings back to his apartment with you in his arms.

He feels sorry for the innocence in your love.

Like a beast, that's what he was. A beast who loved the softness in your touch, the kind in your words. But cannot return the same love. The beast is possessive, jealous of the very air that caresses your hair. And it may act vulnerable only to you, letting you get as close to slaughter him, but knowing you'll place a kiss instead. The beast would hold you as his own treasure, a creature that must not be hurt, not even for his own hands. He would cut them off before.

He would cut them off from anyone before they touch you. For no one should ever touch what he decided, that very morning you asked how he had been, would belong to him.

AND EVERYTHING WOULD HAVE CONTINUED ON GOING SO SMOOTHLY... BUT THE DAAAAAAAAMN FINALS, ah, made their entrance.

You barely have time to sleep, to eat, to fucking breathe. Your levels of anxiety are higher than the HQ damn building and your brain is so overworked you cannot do more than what you're asked to in autopilot. You know that you're only going to be like this for approximately another two weeks, but your poor lover has suffered the last four days thinking you're sick, or sad, or worse... Mad at him. No, not in that order.

"Arañita..." He calls for you. Your hand moving over your notebook at one hundred km per hour concerns him.

"The reports are done. Peter from -5266 and Hugh from -1993 are out right now. They should be getting back at any minute. Anomaly #125 was sent to its original universe this morning." You push the tablet to him with your free hand without even looking up or slowing down your writing.

"Thank you, but..." He tilts his head, furrowing his brows. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. I just need to get this done before four. By the way, can I leave early today? I need to study for tomorrow's test."

"Again? Didn't you have one yesterday?"

"Yes. We're on finals, Miguel. We tend to have a lot of them these days. That's why I'm losing my mind over here."

"Just for some tests?" You have to stop yourself to remind you it's not his fault to be smart. It's not his fault being more intelligent than almost every person you knew. It's not his fault he doesn't know what is to struggle on school. It's not his fault, It's not his fault, It's not his fault... "You haven't even touched your food." He says, looking at the little box he got you with the meal now cold.

"I... I know. I'm sorry, Mig." You sigh, looking up at him for the first time in the day. "I'm just really stressed out right now. But I promise I'll take it back home later, okay?"

This was also the fourth day you didn't stay at his place. My man doesn't want to be a burden, but he has attachment issues, ok?, and after the week you spent sleeping in his arms, it may or may not be that Miguel has been having trouble falling asleep without the weight of your body on his chest.

After watching you leave that day, Miguel found himself staying till unreasonable hours of the early morning working in the lab. There was no point on going back to his cold apartment anyway... And he had a lot of things to get done. He didn't have time to...

"Oh, it's you." Miguel jumps in his place at the sudden voice calling from behind. "I thought that poor girl had stayed here, with all the things she seems to be doing these days."

The man shakes his head, ignoring Jessica closing the distance behind him, leaning against the door frame. Miguel can almost make out the little smile on her lips without turning around, and that only infuriates him even more.

"And why do you look like a caged lion?" She mocks. "Trouble in paradise?"

Miguel's first instinct is snap back at her and ask her to leave him alone. He knows she would comply, what he doesn't know is how benefic that would be for his current situation.

"I don't know what's going out with her." He admits, letting his head fall in irritation. "She says she's having some tests right now, but she's just to... Stressed? I don't know. She's so smart I cannot conceive how bad this is affecting her." The laugh that emanates from Jessica's throat makes his ears go red. "What?"

"Oh, babe, when was the last time you went to college?" Jessica puts both of her hands on her waist, pursing the lips to avoid smiling again.

"Why is that important?"

"When, Miguel?" She demands.

"Ugh... I don't know. Like four-five years ago."

"When was the last time you failed a class?"

"Never." He immediately responds.

"When was the last time grades were important on your Earth?"

Miguel frowns. "I don't remember. The path for learning had changed long before I was born. I don't even think I ever had something like a grade. We were judged individually for our skills and our intelligence type. Not memorization."

"Exactly." She claps, pointing at him with a all-knowing finger. "Thanks to that you got the chance to develop your true abilities as a student, but our girl from 2023 it is not beneficiary of this privilege. She doesn't get the chance to strengthen in what she is good, she must memorize and memorize and memorize over and over again. Because the tests on her Earth aren't done with the purpose of just checking how is her knowledge progressing, they are done to see if she's worthy of continuing forward in her very career."

Miguel remains silent for a minute, swallowing all the new information by pieces. For someone so smart, Jessica has never see him seem so lost. The nuts in his brain begin to turn and turn until his eyes seem to light up with the clarity of the light of the new world.

"Hm." He nods. "Thank you."

The woman knows he doesn't need anything more when he turns around, typing into one of the screens something that escapes from her eyes.

During the rest of the two weeks of finals, Miguel tried to do his best to support you.

He even read all of the information about your education system, striving to understand everything in just a couple of nights.

He's a man on a mission: letting you know he's there, that you're strong and smart, and you can do it.

While you study in the lab, he leaves you be. He gets you coffee, or tea, or anything you prefer. He might even hiss at people entering his space (your space) making too much noise, pointing at you with his chin and threatening eyes.

"Hey, girl..." Peter B. comes in one morning, moving nervously under the scrutinizing gaze of your lover. "Don't be so harsh on yourself..." He gives you some awkward pats on the back, smiling. "You're doing great."

That was all it took.

"No, I'm not!" You weep, letting your head fall on the desk, shaking between sobs.

"Great. Ya la hiciste llorar." Miguel pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. "Here, give it to her." He calls for Peter's attention, handing him an specific chocolate.

Peter takes it with confused eyes, offering it to you, reaching out his arm as if he were to touch you, you'll explode.

"Here." He says. "Look what I got."

You raise your eyes, meeting the little packing. Then, when you look at him, Peter almost thinks he just made all worst.

"Oh, Peter... Thank you!" You take the chocolate, pulling from him to a big hug. "I love these so much, thank you! You're so kind!"

Peter lets you be, looking back at Miguel who just nods at him to let him know this wasn't his first rodeo. He pats your back, soothing you with some more nervous words until you're ready to let him go.

If you're really struggling, Miguel won't think twice to help you. He's smart, it takes him nothing more than a look to his old notes or a quick search on the internet (specially if you're studying something science related or an engineering, if you're on law or arts, oh boy, you're gonna make this man suffer) to know exactly what you need and make sure you're taking that fucking project tomorrow.

Some other days, he just catches you sleeping with your hands crossed above the table and your saliva drooling out to your notes. His jacket would then come over you, after, he would take your pending stuff and start solving problems and making notes for you to have it easier at the memorizing part of the study.

You always wake up to see the edges of your paper full of arrows, little equations and encircled key words. And, sometimes, a tired Miguel sleeping uncomfortably by your side, just waiting for you to tell him it's time to go.

The day, a Friday, where you're finally done with college (at least for a couple of months) Miguel felt it like the day his soul came back to his body.

You are smiling all day again, calling his name, doing a mess all over the whole building. And he can not be more happy about it.

He might never tell you, me might even justify himself saying he had been staying up late working in the lab every time you ask for the bags under his eyes. Because he's definitely not telling you there were nights where he couldn't even close his eyes 'cause you weren't there with him.

"Time to go home." You hum behind him, getting all of your stuff inside your backpack.

"Thank God" He rubs his neck, walking closer to you to give you a soft kiss on the forehead. "I'm dying."

You yawn, nodding. "Me too. These weeks drained me."

"Me too." He repeats, and you don't know how much he means it. "Let's just go to sleep, yeah? Hopefully tomorrow there won't be so much to do."

You smile, leaning into his embrace as you walk out the door, hearing the lights turning off as both come closer and closer to the exit.

"Yeah, that sounds good."

"Okay."

Miguel steadies your body by pressing down on your hips, keeping your ass on the bed. You try to push his face out of between your thighs but he refuses to pull apart.

"Miguel!" You cry out, tears rolling down your cheeks cause of the overstimulation he was putting you in. "Too much, too much..."

His fingers curl inside you one more time, and your arch your back, almost rolling your eyes at the feeling. His tongue flicks over your sensitive bud again, dragging choked moans out of you. You try to squirm away but his hands pull you from your ass back at him as soon as you start moving.

"Easy there, Arañita. I'm almost done." He smiles up at you, letting you see the lower half of his face completely covered in your arousal.

"Mig... Mi amor..." You breath out, trying to push him out again when his chuckle crashes against your folds.

"One more, love, and you'll be ready for me." He sucks on your clit as he speaks, moving his fingers with an slower pace now. "Uno más, mamita, dame uno más."

He pushes his face down on you, working his tongue all around your most needy spot with his digits burying now deep inside you, hitting that soft place between your walls that makes you want to cry. You're a mess of moans and whimpers by now, but when his teeth slowly press on your clit, it's over for you. Your eyes roll back, your thighs tremble around him, encaging him in his favorite prison as he guides you through it, moaning into your skin when he feels your pleasure dripping on him, motivating his hips to hump against the mattress as a fucking teenager would do.

After you get down from your high, you look up at him to find him positioning himself between your legs, dragging the tip of his cock up and down on your folds.

"Miguel, wait, I'm..."

"You know your safe word, mamita, you can make me stop whenever you want." He places your legs on his shoulders and his hands on your hips, keeping you just as he wishes to. "I'm going in, and I want your eyes on me all the time I fuck you, ¿me entiendes, hermosa?"

You nod, watching the point where both of your bodies would join. He enters slowly, giving you time to adjust his size. But after the first hint of your hips trying to feel him even more, he pulls back and thrusts all the way in, making your head fall back as your back arches.

His right hand grabs you by the jaw, forcing you to open your eyes and observe how red his irises had turned.

"Eyes on me."

His pace speeds up, bottoming out with every thrust he makes. Your hands push at his lower abdomen, biting your lip to avoid crying out loud again.

"Too fast, Mig. Too much." You moan, your still overstimulated clit rips another whimper from you every time his happy trail and trimmed hair crashes against it. You were barely holding on, but your lover can't never get enough. His body reaches down, and as he places one hand around your neck, his other thumb toys at your clit in a excruciating pace. "Fuck! No, Miguel."

You tremble under him, wrapping your legs around his waist when you cannot think about anything more than cumming. Your nails bury on the skin of his back, dragging an out of breath grunt out of him.

"I'm, I'm cum-" You try to voice but nothing in your brain seems to work anymore.

"Do it, love. I got you." He keeps up his pace, almost kissing your cervix by now. "Cum for me, mi amor."

His hand squeezes a little bit harder on your neck and you need nothing else to see fucking white. Your mouth opens in a big O before your start trembling, shaking uncontrollably under his body, letting out the sweetest of sounds for him to hear.

He grunts, falling into the crock of your neck when you tighten your walls around him.

"I'm going to fucking fill you." He's out of breath and he curses something in Spanish you cannot make out. "I'm going to put a baby on your tummy, mamita..."

"Miguel..." You were on the verge of tears again, you cannot longer feel your legs but you surely can feel him deep inside you.

"Yes, love. Fuck... I'm cumming. I'm..." He bites down on your flesh, sinking his fangs into your skin when his hips stutter. His talons grow so big they dig into the headboard.

You moan at the feeling, hugging your body to his until he can breath normal again.

When he looks back at you his eyes have returned to that soft brown you're used too.

"Are you okay?" He asks, sending shivers down your spine when he caresses the sore skin.

"Yes." You smile and he traps your lips into a kiss. "And now I'm really fucking tired."

He chuckles, lifting his weight onto his forearms.

"Come here, amor. Let's take a shower so you can rest comfortably." He places another soft peck on your forehead. "I'll wash your hair."

You definitely know he will do more than that.

PD: Tbh with you guys, all I could think about while writing this was this tiktok:

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara fluff #miguel ohara smut #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #atsv #peter b parker

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