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#spiderman oneshot
deathc-re · 6 months
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i definitely think hobie loves cockwarming. having you sat on him, desperate and pleading for him to move just an inch. there's almost a puddle at his base from your hole, so wet and he'll lazily rub on your clit, so tantalizing slow that you almost let out a sob. you want to move, bounce, rock, anything!
you'll beg and whine and pout but he'll just smile at your lazily. It's killing him too, the way you grip him so tightly, trying to milk him so desperately and oh the sounds you make! he'll pull you close, kiss and suck on your neck to get whimpers and mellows out of you. each time y'all do this, he tries to beat his last time. almost in competition with himself, and you hate it.
once he finally does move though, it's with the force of everything in him. pace mind numbing, his words, his hands on you, pinching and gripping and caressing everything he can. you rock your hips to try and match his pace but to no avail, he whispers in your ear to relax and let him please you. without protest you do as your told and let the pleasure consume your body and mind.
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sainzboxd · 10 months
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like a cat | miguel o’hara
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pairing : miguel o’hara x reader
warnings/tags : implied shower sex, mirror sex, kinda mean dom!miguel o’hara x sub!reader, good ole p in v action, clit stimulation, the use of the word slut once, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it irl), breeding kink, husband!miguel, wife!reader,
wc: 762
author’s note: wasn’t proofread at all..posting this as i am about to head to bed rah. one of those ‘felt cute might delete later posts’ haven’t actually seen atsv so no spoilers i think, also let’s talk about miguel’s fangs ugggggh.
miguel loved control. you would think that leading a secret society of spider-people would satisfy him but no it’s just too much stress. chasing anomalies after anomalies tired him out and what he needs is a break.
what he needs is you.
he knew that you were waiting for him to come home, heck he knew you were worried sick. he hasn’t been home for a few days, so when they finally finished their mission on another earth, he practically ran home to your dimension.
finally reaching home, he ransacked the place looking for you. you were in the shower hearing your name being called out from outside. you turn the water off, calling for him. miguel couldn’t wait, he enters the bathroom drunk on the thought of you and what he wants to do to you.
“eyes up princesa.” he demands you look at the mirror adjacent his bed. your eyes catching his, it’s been a few days since you last saw him. it was clear that you both missed the feeling of each other. you’re his sweet girl, and
he’s been thinking about having you this way for days.
his hand lands on your ass, as he continues pounding into you, still keeping eye contact with each other despite you having a hard time complying with his command. you mewled as he kept hitting your pleasure point, you forced yourself not to look away from the mirror.
“so beautiful like this.” he says. the view you’re seeing was breathtaking, miguel’s hands gripping your hips, as he pounds into you with ease, his actions shaking the bed, your boobs swaying every time he inserts his length into you.
you hear him groan as you clench your walls around him. your eyes brimming with tears–you were so fucked out, you were reaching your fourth orgasm of the night and miguel was far from finished from toying with you.
“i-i can’t.” you say, looking down. the man behind you halts his actions, slapping your ass before pulling your hair back to look at the mirror in front of you. he leans into your ear, his fangs resting at the side of your neck, he was warning you… “take what i’m giving you, slut.” he says, before going back inside you.
you moan as he pushes deeper, each thrust getting harsher and harsher, you call out his name, gripping the sheets underneath you tighter as you feel your orgasm coming up. “fuck miguel- i’m- i’m gonna cum.” miguel takes his right hand off of your hips, directing it towards your clit, gently rubbing it in circles helping you in reaching your high.
“love seeing you like this honey. what do you say? should i put a baby in you ? hmm?” you get wetter at the thought. you arch your back towards him more, heaving breaths leave you as you get closer.
“you like that huh?” he taunts.
your neighbors probably hate you by now… how long have you two been at it? an hour? maybe two? you weren’t sure, but you were sure as hell this is the loudest you’re being.
miguel was cursing, groaning as he nears his climax, his movements become sharper as he’s focused on getting you both to chase your highs. “ah fuck, im close” he groans as you reach your peak, your walls clenching against him, squeezing his dick in you, your whines being drowned out by his moans, as he fucks you through your orgasm.
he finishes inside of you. you moan at the feeling of emptiness as he removes his dick from your hole. you practically plop on the bed, tired from the night you both just had.
you were about to say goodnight but miguel had other plans. he moves your body to face his. still on top of you, he kisses your neck, you feel his sharp fangs against your skin as his kisses move down. he spreads your legs, kissing your inner thighs before licking a line through your slit. you gasp as he sucks on your clit.. “m-miguel-“ you stuttered.
he chuckles lowly, and smirks. “what ? did you think i was done with you?“
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aniharas · 2 months
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𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥
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pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!reader
summary: on your first day back at spider society hq, your male colleagues are inexplicably drawn to you. your boss, miguel, seems to be affected more than anybody. surely there's an explanation and solution, but who were you to resist?
warnings: explicit language, sexual tension/content, use of pheromones (please let me know if i need to add more!)
wc: 9.6k+ oneshot
a/n: apparently there was a rumor that a body butter named Delícia Drench (hence name of the fic) attracted wolf spiders! somebody on reddit said it's because there might be two ingredients that imitate the pheromones of a female spider and it'll bring all the thirsty boy spiders to your yard. and with miguel being 50% spider, how could i resist writing? (shoutout to scarlet for the wonderful prompt!) however DISCLAIMER! these claims are unfounded, i just thought it was a fun prompt to write off of. anything i say in the fic referring to the butter is purely fictional and im just talking out of my ass. with that being said, enjoy!
Just before the sun began to rise over the city line of Earth-766’s New York, your hand shot out to slam the snooze button of your annoying alarm clock before it could even go off. The silky sheets you were laid in were far too comfortable, reluctant to release you from its dreamlike embrace, but alas, duty was calling. The holidays had come to a close, and your peaceful vacation back in your home dimension was a bliss escape away from your tiring job.
You didn’t hate your job; in fact, it was just the opposite. Since you were in middle school, you always had an unrivaled passion for chemistry, as many Spiders were. Your life before getting bitten by that spider was mainly winning science fairs, calibration rooms, and working towards your Ph.D. Even after becoming your New York’s one and only Spiderwoman, your academic pursuit never ceased, eventually landing yourself at the prestigious Alchemax. However, it was because you had secured such a high-profile job that you caught the attention of the Spider Society, in the form of its leader, Miguel. He somehow knew that you were on the path to creating a more stable version of Rapture, and because of this, he was persistent in roping you into his ranks.
At first, you had declined profusely, briskly walking away from where he had approached you in Central Park. The brisk walk eventually turned into a full-on Spider chase, although the uniqueness of his abilities seemed to distract you. The talons that protruded from his fingers that tore through metal like paper, the neon-red nature of his webs, and his fangs. His fangs were what intrigued you the most. Eventually, you were pincered by him and another Spiderwoman named Jessica, who would later become one of your best friends.
Alas, you accepted, although not until being lured in by the offer of all the technology and scientific advancements you could imagine in Nueva York. The first time you had entered the HQ’s lab, you were like a kid in the candy store. You loved your job, which involved tailoring different types of chemical equipment, unique for each Spider that came by, as well as equally unique medicines and antidotes for the medical ward. 
Your main job, however, was developing the Rapture injection, the one you were recruited for, almost daily. And for who other than your broody boss? Even though he hadn’t left the best impression after chasing you like a madman in your hometown, you were required to work with him. And in the beginning, it would be an understatement to say it was challenging. Miguel was a whirlwind of sarcastic remarks and impatience who constantly nagged you for any updates. And to make it worse, each morning, you would make your way to Miguel’s office and inject him with your experimental Rapture of the day. Then in the evening, you would return to observe the effects. The days consisted of constant complaints that you were late, that the injection didn’t have the intended effect, and that Rapture was your top priority, all of which were grating on your soul. 
Since your daily routine started and ended with Miguel, your relations grew slightly amicable over time. It started with silent gestures of gratitude: a cup of steaming coffee left in your office in the lab, bringing extra dinner for him during the end-of-the-day check-ups. After 3 months of your stay at the Society, you both started communicating with your watches (He was insistent that you call the watches gizmos, to which you adamantly refused). At first, it was only about work and your Rapture progress. The conversations then slowly changed into more casual ones, topics ranging from your pets back home to him venting his frustrations about the shenanigans of whatever Hobie was up to that day. Sure, he was slightly more friendly (which wasn’t a feat considering who he was), but his irritable nature was still a turn-off for you, and the sarcasm leaping into every evaluation didn’t help either. You considered him lucky that he was quite the eye candy. He was actually pretty attractive whenever he shut his mouth.
This particular morning was your official return to Nueva York after two weeks, so you decided you would put a bit more effort into your routine. Reluctantly, you rose from your bed and stumbled towards your bathroom, wincing at the harsh cold of its floor underneath your feet. You allowed yourself a moment of bliss under your hot shower, trying your best to wash away any stress you were anticipating that day. Once you had finally stepped out of the shower, you quickly dried yourself off and wrapped a plush towel securely around your body, trying your best not to slip as you trudged over to the bathroom counter. Admittedly, you weren’t the most graceful Spider; you were on the smarter side.
Then it was the usual sequence of your routine. Brushing and blow-drying your hair, skincare, and makeup. Just as you were about to make your way to your closet, you realized that you had forgotten your lotion, which you would’ve considered disastrous. Nothing bothered you more than your own dry skin. By habit, you were about to reach for the usual bottle until an unopened box tempted you from the corner of your eye. As you turned it around in your hands and delicately unpackaged it, you silently chastised yourself for almost forgetting. It was a body butter, given to you by Jessica during a surprise visit on Christmas day.
“This is from Lyla. She says to thank her later,” Jessica had said on that day vaguely before giving a brief hug.
Unscrewing the lid from the jar, you smiled to yourself. If there was anyone other than Jessica that you truly missed over your break, it was Lyla. The hologram assistant never failed to make you smile with the many ways she’d tease Miguel, but she also never failed in constantly bringing up asking him out. “I don’t care if he’s your boss,” Lyla would say. “I’d know more than anyone if he has the hots for you, and he guess what? He does!” Which was hard to believe, considering his persistent stubbornness in your day-to-day interactions.
Once the lid was finally off, a waft of vanilla with a hint of sandalwood drifted into the air. Inhaling the scent of the butter deeply, you felt oddly touched. This was undeniably a scent that was up your alley, and it was very thoughtful. As you worked it into your skin, you made a mental note to thank Lyla. It was when you were just about finished that you noticed something peculiar. You had caught a subtle whiff of another note, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. It was elusive, teasing your senses as you racked your brain for what it could possibly be. Figuring it was just an ester you smelled in your various experiments, you left the bathroom to get dressed, with a more confident aura around yourself.
Your first day back couldn’t have started any more peculiar.
You had barely gotten the chance to take in the surroundings of your beloved HQ before you were instantly greeted with Hobie swinging in as he called your name, landing just in front of you.
“Evil genius. Heard you’d be back today,” Hobie greeted with his signature half-smile, his lanky arms immediately opening to embrace you. Which was weird, considering he was more of a handshake-y/shadowboxing type of greeter. But he was a joy to have around in your lab (despite him not particularly having too much interest in your work), so you didn’t refuse.
“You’ve gotten taller,” you replied with a grin on your face, happily accepting his embrace. While it was comforting, you noticed that it was taking a while for him to pull away. Passing it off as mere affection, you pulled away and looked up at Hobie’s face. He seemed almost bewildered as he stared down at you, almost in some sort of trance. Was he looking at your lips? Was he looking further down?
“Uh, Earth-928 to Hobie? Helloo?” you called out, snapping your fingers in front of him repeatedly in an attempt to wake him up. It wasn’t until the 5th or 6th snap that he finally seemed to jolt awake, although still fixated on you.
“Oh. My bad, fam,” he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. You raised a brow at his mannerisms; it was extremely unlike him to act so nervous. You then gave him a reassuring pat on his shoulder, and you swore you saw him slightly tense at the feeling.
“So, you got a new cologne or somethin’ like that? Hold on, not cologne…what’s it called? Perfume? Toilettes?” Hobie began rambling, seemingly in a desperate attempt to cover up his uncharacteristic awkwardness.
“Oh, Lyla got me-”
You were cut off by another voice shouting your name to your left. It was one of the many Peters. “How’s my favorite scientist been? How was your vacay?”
“Just stayed at home,” you answered, a bit startled as you tried to split your attention between Peter and Hobie. “Anyways, Lyla-”
Another voice chimed in behind you. “I heard your universe is one of the most beautiful. You were definitely up to something.” Then another. “It’s been forever since I last saw you!” Another. “Wanna come eat with us at the caf?”  You even heard Ben’s voice, to which you were surprised he had taken a break from his usual moping to join the ever-growing commotion around you. “You smell nice!” Soon, all the greetings and compliments became a garbled mess in your ears, your view obscured by a wall of Spiders.
You tried your best to force on a polite smile as you tried to weave your way through the oncoming traffic of people. To you, this was completely unexpected and foreign. Sure, you had made lots of friends in your time at HQ, but people weren’t exactly buzzed to see you. At most, you’d get a friendly wave as you passed by each other in the twisty pathways. Now, they acted like you were an oasis in a desert.  As you whipped your head around, you noticed something in the ever-growing crowd around you: it was all Spidermen. That irked you slightly; you had made many Spiderwomen friends as well. Where were they? Becoming slightly dizzy with the growing clamor around you, you were just about ready to web yourself up to the ceiling and swing your way to your lab.
As if your prayers were miraculously answered, the familiar rev of an engine overpowered the clamor of the Spidermen, and they immediately parted ways down the middle to reveal Jessica, staring at you with an amused grin as she sat on her motorcycle.
"I’ll take you to HQ if you tell me what the hell’s going on!” Jessica offered, her voice raised so that you could hear.
Instant relief flooded through your body as you nearly sprinted your way to Jessica, planting a grateful kiss on her cheek before hopping on the back of the motorcycle. As you both sped away, you still waved goodbye to the Spidermen, despite how weird you had felt mere seconds prior. As if things couldn’t get any weirder, you noticed that the crowd you had left behind had almost immediately dispersed, with only some lingering around to chat.
“God, Jess. I’ve been here for two minutes, and I think I’ve already had the weirdest day out of everyone here!” you remarked loudly with a heavy sigh. You linked your arms around Jessica’s waist to remain stable on the motorcycle, eyes squinted from traveling at such a high speed.
Jessica only seemed to chuckle in response as she steered through the complicated structure, towards your lab. “Yeah? Try being pregnant!” she called out over the wind, her curls tossing about in the wind.
Your eyes widened immediately upon the revelation. “You’re lying, shut up,” you scolded, immediately feeling over Jessica’s stomach to verify it. Lo and behold, your hands smoothed over the beginnings of a bump, which caused you to squeal out in excitement. “Oh my god, Jess! When is it due?!”
“6 months! So don’t hold on so tight!” Jessica chided playfully as she effortlessly navigated her way through the building, shouting at countless Spiders to move out of her way. You held on for dear life, but of course, not too tight.
Eventually, you reached your beloved lab, to which you both entered. The door hissed closed behind you, and after you had set your bag down, you immediately sprung into action. This was simultaneously your sanctuary and your training, where you were at your best. Jessica watched from a nearby stool, gently holding her stomach.
“So this is where you cook up the good stuff, hm?” Jessica quipped, her eyes glued to the liquid that was poured into an instant syringe.
“Somebody’s gotta keep the boss alive,” you chuckled, your meticulous hands carefully measuring out just the right amount of Rapture before sealing it closed. This was the new batch that you had been working on at home, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t eager to show Miguel. “Speaking of which, I’ll need a lift there.” Packing the syringe into a box, you motioned for Jessica to come with you as you began to walk toward the sealed doors. That was until you were stopped by your pregnant friend’s hand in your face.
“Hold up, hon. You still never explained what was going on out there,” Jessica reminded you in a stern tone with an equally stern look.
“Jess, I wanna know as much as you do.” You paused, taking a deep breath as you recounted the event. “Maybe it's just a…welcome committee thingy.”
Jessica gave you a pointed look as a scoff left her lips. “Welcome committee, my ass. Those guys were like pirates, and you were a siren. It was more like a…’Welcome Back, I Would Die For Your Attention’ committee.”
As much as you wanted to bite back, it was unfortunate that she was right. While most of the Spider-folk were kind, as they tended to be, they were never that eager to see you before. People you thought you could never shake were in the crowd. Did it feel nice? You were ashamed that it did, just slightly, but perhaps for a different reason than you thought.
Perhaps Miguel would be the same.
Noting your silence and your brows creased in thought, Jessica gave you a reassuring smile as she stood to pat you on the back. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop messing with you,” she chuckled, giving you a gentle push toward the door. “But something’s up, and I’ll get to the bottom of it.”
“Yeah, yeah, let me know when you figure it out. I’d like to know too,” you said as you narrowed your eyes at her, although you could never keep a serious face with your best friend as you broke out into a smile.
With that, you both stepped out of the lab, only to be immediately greeted by another crowd of Spidermen that had gathered outside the entrance. Your face twisted into annoyance as you looked to Jessica for help.
“Move, people!” she shouted out above the onslaught of chattering Spidermen. “Unless you want to work with Miguel for a week!” With that, the crowd easily dispersed, scattering like…well, spiders. Despite the situation you were in, you were glad that many of them felt the same way about working with Miguel. Outside of work, he was bearable, but his free time was rare.
After another short ride on Jessica’s motorcycle through the complex, you reached Miguel’s office. You took a deep breath, giving your friend a firm nod as you prepared to walk through the automatic doors. As soon as you were about to take a step, Lyla apparated in front of you, sliding down her heart-shaped shades to get a good look at you.
“It’s been forever! Just know I’d hug you if I could,” the assistant exclaimed with the widest grin you’ve ever seen on her. Her playful antics were infectious, and her cheery tone seemed to wipe away the stress the day had accumulated so far. “Sooo, how’d you like your gift?”
“Oh! Right, uh, I’m wearing it right now,” you stammered out, feeling terrible. The morning had been so hectic that you forgot to seek out Lyla and thank her properly. Your response made Jessica raise a brow and lean over toward you, taking a whiff. You looked at her. “What do you think?”
“You smell sweet,” Jessica remarked, then paused, as if analyzing your scent a bit more. “And…womanly.”
Lyla seemed to nod eagerly at this statement, her virtual eyes glinting with curiosity as she prodded at you further. “And what’s it like?”
Perplexed by the wording of the question, you hesitated to answer. What on earth did either of them mean? Everyone was acting strange today. “Um, the vanilla is really nice, I had no idea you knew that I liked that sort of stuff. It was very thoughtful, Lyla.”
Lyla continued to stare at you a bit more intently, seeming to wait for another answer from you until she seemed to give up. “That’s good, I’m glad you love it,” she replied, though there was a hint of something enigmatic in her response. As if she were physically standing in front of the door to the office, Lyla stepped to the side, gesturing for them to go in as the doors slid open. “You can come in, but consider yourself warned. Miguel’s cranky at the moment.”
“When is he not?” You muttered, mostly to yourself, but you could hear Jessica snicker at your side as you both strolled in. The familiar hum of Miguel’s futuristic machinery filled your ears, the metallic interior of his office coldly greeting her eyes. When you first spotted your boss up on his platform (which was redundant, in your opinion), he was already wearing his suit. You swore he always wore it to show off his physique. He had his back turned to the both of you, seeming to intently stare at the screens and holograms in front of him blankly.
“Does he ever not do that?” Jessica muttered under her breath to you as you both stared ahead. It was so simple for her to break your resolve, pressing your lips together in a tight line to prevent yourself from letting out even the smallest sound.
“Are you ever not late?”
Miguel’s sharp voice immediately cut through the playful nature that surrounded the two of you. The smile immediately dropped from your face, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. How could somebody already be so irritated? The day hadn’t even started.
You glanced toward Jessica briefly before answering, trying to keep your voice steady. “I was just stuck in the lobby-”
“Yeah, I saw,” Miguel interjected coldly as he turned his head toward the hologram-screen that displayed the security feed. With a simple flick of his hand, the screen swiped out of view as he turned to face you, his face twisted into an unfamiliar emotion, albeit clearly not a pleasant one. “Really glad you had the time to mingle. Not like we’re on a schedule or anything.”
If Miguel hadn’t been 6’9” of almost entirely pure muscle, you swore you would’ve swung up and lunged at him like a rabid animal. Would it have killed him to be just a bit understanding? He was watching you through the feed, how was any of that your fault? His mockery and grumpy attitude were things you’d grown used to, but today, it was particularly biting. It seemed…personal.
Jessica seemed to feel the same way as you heard her snort audibly in response. This directed his attention towards her, his glare unwavering. “And you,” he began, pointing a finger directly at her. “What did I tell you about riding that thing through my building?”
“ Our building,” she bit back, her posture nonchalant as she lazily examined her nails. “How about you yell at the people who got in her way, smart guy?”
Miguel rolled his eyes at her remark, seemingly ready to go back and forth until he glanced down at her stomach. He then shook his head, gesturing to shoo her away. “I…I don’t even wanna get into it with you. Just…get out.”
Elbowing you lightly, Jessica leaned closer to you with a smirk. “See? Pregnancy perks,” she joked. “But I would’ve preferred a vacation.” You clamped a hand over your mouth to stop the fit of laughter you felt rising.
“¡Oye! Are you even listening?!” Miguel hissed at Jessica, pointing towards the doors. Genuinely, you admired her patience, as she didn’t even flinch. Giving you a look that clearly meant “good luck”, your best friend gently patted you on the back before taking her leave. You stared until her figure disappeared behind the automatic doors, and then you became all too aware that you and Miguel were alone. The air in the room grew tense as you attempted to quell the irritation rising within you.
Once you turned back to look up at Miguel, he was running his fingers through his hair, pushing it back in somewhat of a stressed manner as he was fixated on another screen. Without sparing you another glance, he spoke up again, the words barely even louder than the quiet buzz of the hologram projectors. “The Rapture. Get up here,” he muttered, slowly pacing back and forth on his levitated platform.
Tucking the box securely in your (thankfully) deep pockets, you made sure to secure it tightly, the contents too delicate to leave dangling so carelessly. Mentally preparing yourself for the incoming 5 minutes you had to spend with Miguel, you flung your wrist towards the edge of his platform, a silky web instantly connecting the two. Pulling on the tensile web, you gave yourself enough momentum to fling yourself up onto it, landing opposite to where he was standing—one of your more graceful landings.
His back was still turned to you as you pulled the box out of your pocket, carefully extracting the syringe with your latest creation. Staring down at it proudly, you stood on your feet and cautiously approached Miguel. “Worked on this one during vacation,” you said, not necessarily caring if he had anything to say about it. “Think it’s my best one yet.”
Miguel’s shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep exhale, intent on reading the details of his upcoming mission. “It better be,” was all he muttered, holographic nature of his suit fading away in a patch on his left shoulder, his usual injection site. Placing your right hand tentatively against his shoulder blade, you held the syringe up to his skin, ready to administer until you noticed something. You gently pressed a finger against his skin, and it was almost as if the muscle was made of rocks.
“You need to relax your shoulder, boss,” you remarked, your focus beginning to trail across the expanse of his back. It almost seemed to ripple constantly from how tense they were. Usually, this process was the easy part, and you both had done this dozens of times. 
“Yep. Got it.” A muscle in his neck flexed slightly.
“Is something bothering you?” you asked cautiously, observing his odd behavior. Seriously, him too? What was up with everyone today?
“ Mierda , just get on with it,” he grumbled, an obvious strain in his tone.
“If you say so,” you whispered, injecting the green liquid into his system. Once again, it was different. A sharp inhale escaped his lips as he winced; you caught a glimpse of his eyes flashing a bright red in the reflection of his monitors. The eyes were normal, it happened every time. But it never caused him discomfort before. Concern was etched across your features as you took a step back, your eyes scanning over his body. 
“Seriously, Miguel. Is there something I should know?” you asked with a huff, placing a hand on his other shoulder to turn him around. However, when you were finally able to his expression for the first time, it was nothing like you had ever expected. His eyes were clouded over as they locked onto yours, a rawness in his gaze that made you shudder. His jaw was clenched, muscles taut, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed deeply. You even noticed the cadence of his exhales, each one sounding as if he was barely in control. Was this an adverse reaction to the Rapture? Uneasiness began to settle into your skin. Was this your fault? You worriedly placed a hand against his forehead to feel his temperature, now noticing the sweat that had begun to dot across his forehead. 
He wasn’t even stopping you or making any snide remarks. Something was definitely wrong.
“Lyla?” you called out into the void of his office as you retracted your hand. “Show me his vitals.”
“No, Lyla, don’t even think about it,” Miguel objected through gritted teeth. You both were only greeted by Lyla’s familiar giggle as a hologram screen materialized behind Miguel, displaying his various vitals.
“You’re supposed to work for me ,” he grunted.
“Misclick! Oops, gotta go-” Lyla taunted, the sound of her program shutting off following. You swore you heard him mutter “chinga tu madre” under his breath.
As you read through the different stats, you only seemed to confuse yourself more. His body temperature was slightly elevated, but nowhere close to a fever. No production of histamines, so no allergies. Nothing from the injection seemed to affect any aspect of his body. His heart rate, however, was through the roof. Surely Spider-people don’t get heart attacks, right? You were about to instruct Lyla until a certain statement in his vital report caught your eye.
Elevated levels of oxytocin present.
Those words seemed to knock the wind right out of your stomach, struggling to find the words to say as you froze in place. Was there something you missed when you were gone? Miguel just suddenly had a thing for you? Racking your brain, you tried to think of any way this could have developed. Maybe distance does make the heart grow fonder. Would you be disrespecting yourself if this was fine with you? 
Suddenly, images of your time with him began to pop up in your mind, but they were now corrupted. You thought of the way his quadriceps flexed as he carried boxes into your new office, the hitch of his breath every time you gave him a new injection, and simply how large he was in comparison to you. Your free hand began to fidget with the hem of your shirt, letting your gaze fall anywhere but him. You were certain your cheeks looked like they had been pinched. The both of you stood there, unsure of what to do, an awkward silence engulfing the room.
As if unable to endure this situation any longer, Miguel muttered a curse under his breath before he moved swiftly, hopping down from the platform. He seemed eager to escape his office, which was strange; this was where he usually holed up before and after missions. The sound of his footsteps rang in your ears, finalizing the fact that you were now standing alone, your mind a whirlwind of chaos. But with each step he took, the more you felt your heartbeat in your ears, the steady rhythm urging you to follow him. To demand one ounce of clarity from him. He couldn’t just leave you here.
“Miguel, wait,” you called out, shooting a web to the floor and flinging yourself after him. Once you had landed, you kept pursuing him, but he quickened his pace. Your mind flashed back to when he had chased you through Central Park, and a smile snuck its way onto your lips. It only made you even more relentless, your gait quickening.
Once you were close enough to him, you reached out, your hand gently tapping the broadness that was his back, a silent plea for him to acknowledge what had just been uncovered between the both of you. After receiving no response, you sighed in exasperation. “Miguel, please,” you implored. “Could you tell me-”
Miguel pivoted abruptly, the intensity in his gaze disorienting as you felt him tightly grip your wrist. Despite not having done much, his breaths were almost ragged. His eyes were glazed over, dropping down from yours just for a moment, stealing a glance at your body before returning it to a respectable place. 
“What the hell are you doing to me?” he grunted through his teeth, his voice low as it wavered with a hint of vulnerability. Despite his efforts to keep it down, the question echoed throughout the confines of his empty office.
As you tried to wiggle your wrist away, you realized it would be a waste of effort to try, so you let him. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stared up at him with wide eyes. You knew for a fact that he could feel your heartbeat with the way he was gripping it, and you were certain it beat like a rabbit’s. Hopelessly caught off guard, you stammered, “I…I don’t know. It isn’t the Rapture, I promise, I did every-”
“Don’t you give me that,” he cut you off, his words seeming to slice through whatever resolve you had left. “I know it’s not the damn Rapture. It’s you. I know it’s you. You’re in my head.”
The admission hung in the air between you two, another thing that only seemed to confuse you further that day. Miguel’s eyes bore into yours, its murky depths desperately searching yours for any answers. But he was only greeted by ones who were as clueless as he was. As he stared down at your wrist that was so easily enveloped by his hand, it seemed to spur him on. Impulsively, Miguel gripped you by your frame and whirled you around, pushing you against the metallic wall, his arms forming a cage around you.
You felt like you were caught in the eye of the storm of emotions that were building up inside him. You were utterly dwarfed by his figure. Sure, you always knew that he was tall, but you never had been this up close and personal before. As you glanced over at the arms that had caged you in like an animal, you fought the urge to run your hand over the ripple of his biceps that were almost staring at you right in the face. Realizing you were definitely focusing on the wrong thing, your eyes met his once again, each time becoming more difficult than the last. Whatever he had to say, you had no choice but to hear it.
“I can’t control it,” he continued, the words escaping like a reluctant exhale. That part was obvious enough. “The moment you stepped into HQ, every damn thought is you. Coño , I can’t even read one sentence of the mission brief with you right behind me. I’m doing things before I even think. I want to hate it.”
The weight of his words settled over you, sinking deep into your skin as you felt yourself burn up again. His sudden infatuation made you realize all the flirty comments and gentlemanly gestures that had been following you all morning. Sure, it was similar, but none of them seemed to be affected more than Miguel. What was it? Swallowing thickly, you mustered the courage to speak, to test the waters. “But you…don’t hate it?” you breathed, your chest seizing with regret as soon as the words left your lips.
Miguel’s brows furrowed, and you had trouble discerning what emotion was causing it. “I don’t,” he choked out, his voice dropping to a whisper. “So fix it.” “What?” His demand hung in the air, a fervent and pleading demand. “I said, fix it,” he insisted, his words taking on a rougher tone. One of his hands slid down from the wall, and he poked accusingly at your chest, just at the top of your sternum. “Whatever you’re doing, fix it,” he persisted, his voice akin to a low growl that sent pleasurable tingles down your spine. “Or I will.” “I don’t know how,” you shamefully admitted, your words laced with sincerity. Your eyes were blown wide upon seeing how intense he was up close, you could hear his labored breaths. The silence that followed your answer lingered between the both of you, both searching each other’s expressions just for one hint, a clue as to how to proceed from that moment. Miguel had always made the decisions, not you, and seeing him at a total loss for words had also stumped you. “I– um, you said that it was when I arrived, right?” you sputtered out, desperate to say anything to ease the heavy tension that was beginning to crush the both of you. Your eyes tried to lock on anywhere that wasn’t Miguel, but it proved difficult when his figure loomed over you. “I can just, uh…go home? Yeah! I can go back home for the day, and I–” And then, with a suddenness that left you without your words, Miguel’s hands retracted from the walls at your sides, cupping your face. Without letting another beat of your heart pass, he surged forward, all too quickly, then his lips were on yours. 
At first, your mind tried to make sense of what was happening. This was Miguel O’Hara, your boss, and a rude one at that. The same guy who always scolded you for the smallest of reasons. Not only would it be inappropriate to continue, but a blow to your self-respect. Yet, in the moment that followed, you felt his tongue gently graze against your bottom lip, and all logic seemed to dissolve and wash away, surrendering to his kiss. You should have been embarrassed that you had to reach up so far to wrap your arms around his neck, but he hunched over to make it easier on you.
He seemed to have been waiting for any sort of response from you. His hands moved with purpose, falling from your face to claw at your body, exploring the curves of your back as if he wanted to burn every detail to his memory. The fevered kiss he gave you ceased for a moment, a curse just barely able to escape from his lips before he began to bury his head into your shoulder. He began to leave openmouthed kisses to the smooth, delicate skin of your neck, his canines gently prodding at the skin. The sting seemed to tease you, to ask you how far you were willing to let him go.
“So you are a vampire,” you remarked breathlessly, whining softly at each slow, tantalizing kiss.
You aren’t able to see it, but you feel the way his lips curve up into a smirk against you. The laugh that followed was mind-bogglingly euphoric, the vibrations rippling against the expanse of your neck so deliciously that the heat building between your legs became nearly impossible to ignore. Your hands trail down from his shoulders and smooth over his chest, an action that you found to elicit the prettiest sounds from your boss. You didn’t even know he was capable of such a thing. You wanted to know what else he was capable of.
“You want it here?” you asked, your hands gently pushing against his chest in an attempt to make him pay attention to your words. But it was like he couldn’t pry himself from you. You were given a mere grunt in response, and you felt his calloused hand hold the back of your neck, stroking your nape tenderly. With his face still buried against your skin, he inhaled the scent of you deeply. That alone seemed to make his yearning nature worse, his words barely escaping past the low whine that resonated in his throat.
“Wherever I can fucking have you,” Miguel said as he grasped you, hands cupping just beneath your jaw as his thumbs smoothed over your cheeks. The way he looked at you, half-lidded, pleading, and absolutely drunk off of your body, sent your mind reeling and melted your limbs as you pushed yourself into him. Your eyes darted around for a suitable place, but Miguel’s office wasn’t necessarily 5 stars when it came to comfort. Raising your head, your gaze locked onto the platform you both were just on. Meekly, you point up towards it, unsure if he would satisfy your request. His head followed as you reached out, and he vaguely scoffed.
You were about to suggest another place until his strong arm secured its way around your waist, and suddenly, you were being hoisted into the air alongside your boss. A yelp escaped your throat out of shock, desperately gripping onto Miguel’s body despite knowing you wouldn’t fall. The gesture made him chuckle in a way you had never heard before, the sound hearty and resounding deeply in his chest. And it seemed to drug you and fill your veins with such an unyielding desire; it made you wonder how something so simple as a laugh further fueled this indecorous addiction to him.
Before you even knew it, you were seated in the middle of the platform with him kneeling beside you. As you stared up at him, you were unsure of what to do. But it was like he had read your mind, resulting in a roll of his eyes and his sarcastic nature making a brief return. 
“You planning to just sit there?” Miguel huffed as he dragged you closer to him. “Lay down.” His tone is so enticingly irrefutable, so you comply, your back hitting the platform, the cold metal making you shudder. You stared up at him, curious as to how he was going to do this.
Slotting himself in between your legs, his fingers desperately tugged at the waistband of your pants before doing away with them entirely, barely noticing that he had taken your underwear with it. He marveled at what he had revealed, carefully tugging your legs apart as if he wanted to worship it further. His eyes flicked up to your face for just a painstaking moment, and it was hot from anticipation, worsening as he hovered between your legs, pressing kisses along your inner thighs.
“You want this?” he murmurs, his words deep and gravelly. You eagerly nod, fighting the urge to shiver from the coldness that overtook your lower half.
Suddenly, you didn’t have to worry much about the cold the moment you felt his warm breath graze you in just the right way. He pressed a wet, languid kiss to your heat, the saliva his tongue was slathering you with mingling with the arousal that began to pool. You were amazed at how effortlessly his ministrations manipulated your body, your chest rising and falling rapidly with each pleasured exhale. When did he have the time to be so good at this sort of thing?
Soon, you were introduced to his fingers, so lengthy and thick that they had your eyes rolling into the back of your head as they plunged inside you. Each call of his name seemed to spur him on, increasing his tempo and the lewd, obscene noises that echoed across his office. Before you even knew it, all of it was too much; the subtle curling and pumping of his girthy fingers, the flick of his tongue; it was like a wave had crashed over you, sending your thighs into convulsions. He slowed his movements as each thrust of his fingers grew more wet, easing you down from your high. The delicate touches lasted for a mere second before you were flipped over, your hips being dragged back as you felt your behind press against the outline of the stiff, rock-hard muscle at his crotch, a testament to how much he had been craving you.
What followed was a sweetly painful, visceral blur. You had heard the sound of his holographic suit retracting itself, and you turned your head, curious as to what you’d see. He smiled smugly at your doe-eyed expression upon seeing his goods, and the only thing occupying your mind was if he could fit at all. It wasn’t like you weren’t expecting it, he was a behemoth of a man after all. But seeing it up close, anticipating its entry was an entirely different beast.
But Miguel was experienced, having dutifully prepared you to take him, making it a more easy experience as his tip prodded your entrance gently, slowly easing himself in. The stretch was undeniably painful, your fingers clutching at the floor, desperately looking for something to hold onto. But as he pushed in further, the feeling transformed into a euphoric ache. He had been trying his best to remain silent to not attract any attention from the outside, but your name managed to fall from his mouth in a hoarse groan, harmonizing with the pathetic whines that you had been letting out. His hands pinned your wrists against the floor, the freezing nature of the floor beneath you contrasting with the heat that bounced between your bodies.
His vigorous pace slightly rocked the platform beneath you, threatening to tip over if Miguel had a mind to get rougher. However, he seemed to know his limits, effortlessly filling you up in a way that could satisfy you for lifetimes. Crude phrases left your swollen lips, each one a way to praise the man that was fucking you like his next mission was his last. The sound of your skin colliding with him was growing filthier with each second, more carnal. For a fleeting second, your mind filled with worry, anxious about anybody that could have been waiting outside his office. Anyone who stood within a 5-yard radius from the entrance could hear just about anything that was going on inside. But his fingers then came up to slither their way into the roots of your hair, yanking your head back far enough so he could whisper in your ear. “Keep talking, say you want me. Say it.”
And soon enough, you were begging for him, arms shaking as you struggled to hold yourself up as ripples of your orgasm traveled throughout your body, your slick absolutely drenching the both of you. Your pleas were what had done him in, his rhythm stuttering and his length pulsing inside you, unsheathing himself as he emptied himself all over your ass, the viscous liquid dripping slowly down its curve. For a moment, the both of you stayed where you were, worn-out breaths being the only thing you both could exchange as you tried to wrap your head around what you had done.
Surprisingly, Miguel had a thought for aftercare. He had retrieved a gym towel and cleaned you up, wiping away his release and your sweat as best as he could. “Still think you have to shower, though,” he commented, the smug undertone in his voice not going unnoticed.
“Back at you,” you quipped, though the smile never left your face as you redressed yourself.
You never thought you would have to try to sneak your way out of Miguel’s office, but considering how disheveled you were after your tryst with him, it was the only way to keep your dignity intact. The air outside was cooler, freezing against your skin that still burned with the residual warmth of his hands all over you. You shuddered. You definitely needed a cold shower.
After grabbing your spare clothes from your office, you found yourself in the ladies’ room. Stripping off your sweat-ridden clothes (you had a mind to scold him for not taking them off), you hopped into one of the showers and slid the privacy curtain shut behind you. The warm water was comforting, easily washing away the feeling of sex away from your body, but what remained emotionally was unexpected. The thought of seeing him again.
A nervous energy gnawed at your heart as you mindlessly lathered soap all over your body. The both of you just had a steamy hookup, but what would happen now? Your insides seemed to twist as you remembered the fact that seeing him at the end of the day was inevitable. The water from your showerhead seemed to pelt down at your skin now, creating an atmosphere perfect for overthinking. Was it a one time thing? Did he want more? Did he like you? Would he fire you? Thankfully, Miguel was due for a mission today, so you wouldn’t have to worry about seeing him before your scheduled time. That would give you enough space to cool your head. 
“Relax,” you told yourself, barely able to hear your thoughts over the pitter-patter of water droplets around you. “You just screwed your boss. Tough it out. Forget about it. Act like it didn’t happen.”
However, the memory of his hands tracing the contours of your back seemed to follow you like a ghost, sending shivers down your spine no matter how much you cranked up the heat of your shower.
Enclosed in the white, sterile walled haven that was your lab, you buried yourself in work, hoping that the hum of calibration machines and the countless lab tests were enough to get your mind off of your tumultuous morning. You decided that it wasn’t enough, sliding your headphones over your ears and blasting your favorite playlist on repeat just so you wouldn’t have to hear your inner turmoil.
And it worked, the hours effortlessly passing by in a blur. Holographic displays and paperwork filled your visions, the very tasks you used to complain about becoming a solace on your first day back at your lab. You didn’t expect to get much done considering the crowd you had easily amassed earlier that morning, but strangely, that stopped, and you were thankful. Your usual visitors came in: Gwen, a few Peters, and even Hobie, who apologized profusely for how much of a “halfwit” he was being earlier, all while simultaneously swearing that you would never tell another soul. You agreed, stifling a laugh, knowing you could never be upset with him. Despite feeling confused for what had seemed like the millionth time that day, things seemed to be falling back into place, and it would have been comforting if it hadn’t been for one thing. You couldn’t exactly unfuck your boss. You chastised yourself quietly for thinking about it again; you were doing so well.
Once again, he was consuming your mind to the point where you couldn’t set your mind straight as you tried to come up with a new substance for one of your Spiderwoman clients. She had asked for a chemical that could help her easily attract and control actual spiders in her vicinity. You had a vague idea of how to bring her idea to life, with cetyl acetate sitting in one of your beakers, but you couldn’t quite remember the other component no matter how hard you racked your brain.
You retraced your steps, checking and double-checking the labels of the countless chemicals that sat preciously in your lab. You felt frustration coil up within you as you consulted your reference binder, embarrassed that you even had to look such a simple thing up. By the time you had located the constituent, many a Spider had begun to leave, the chatter outside of your lab winding to a hush. After squeezing a few drops of farnesyl acetate into your beaker, you gave the substances a quick mix, noting how nice it smelt. And how familiar.
Everything building up in you had left you seeking refuge in your dainty office that sat in the corner of the lab. As you closed the door behind you, temporary relief washed over you, and it was then that you decided it would be best if you went home for the day. Retrieving your bag, you sighed as you sank into your chair, weariness finally settling in after hours of constant work. Fishing around your bag for your office key, your fingers brushed against a jar-shaped object. You brought along Lyla’s gift for retouching throughout the day, but it slipped your mind amidst the chaos of the day. Hoping the vanilla scent would ease your thoughts, you unscrewed the cap with purpose, hoping it would ease the tension in your skin.
Just as you were about to apply, the sound of the entrance doors hissing open disrupted your serenity. Ready to tell off whoever was disturbing your peace, you set down the jar, twisted the doorknob open, and stormed out of your office, only to be frozen in place as you were greeted by the one and only Miguel, his expression uncharacteristically sheepish. A new cut adorned his face, already in the process of regeneration as it had already scarred over. Different parts of his holosuit were damaged, leaving behind a glitch-like static; were those claw marks? He definitely had a rougher day than you.
Clearing your throat, you spoke up. “You alright? That looks like it hurt,” you remarked, tentative as you were unsure what the conversation would lead to.
Miguel simply shrugged, his eyes unable to find yours. “I, uh…the anomaly was more intense than I thought. Was a bit distracted, got roughed up,” he said, his voice a rare mix of honesty and humility.
Your brows furrowed together in sympathy despite the unspoken words between the two of you. “Did you need me to whip something up for you?” you offered, moving towards your box of plastic gloves.
It was only then that he looked up at you, his hand coming up, gesturing for you to stop in protest. “No! No, it’s okay. I’ll live.” He met your eyes, and you immediately knew that he was just as unsure as you were, the uncertainty giving way to a hint of vulnerability.
After a hesitant pause, Miguel finally spoke, the moment you were waiting for finally happening. “Look, about earlier…I’m sorry,” his words stumbling out. “It was unexpected.”
Although you had anticipated this answer, you couldn’t help but deflate upon actually hearing it. You weren’t expecting him to fall on his knees and ask for your hand, but you would’ve at least liked to hear him say that he enjoyed it. “You’re sorry? Would you rather have not done it all?” you accused, much to his chagrin.
“I– no, carajo , that’s not what I meant at all,” he sighed in irritation, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, it’s just…it caught us off guard. I’m not sorry it happened, I’m sorry that it was just…sudden, that’s all,” he huffed, not wanting to get into it with you.
For a moment, you pondered over his words. So he wasn’t opposed to sleeping with you. With impulsive thoughts bubbling up inside you, you were prodded to take the leap again. “Would you do it again?” you asked genuinely, an offer to him.
Miguel’s eyes widened in surprise, an exhale of relief shortly following, a chuckle mingled with his words. “Yeah, I’d do it again,” he answered, moving to step closer to you, and you didn’t mind. Just as it seemed as if he was about to sweep you into his arms again, he stopped in his tracks, his head turning to your lab bench as he fixated on the beaker, the one that was carrying your latest project.
Initially, you thought that Miguel was some sort of a stickler for cleanliness, so you felt embarrassed, reaching for your disposable gloves once again. “Oops, I’ll just put that away–”
“No,” he ordered with a familiar intensity in your voice, making you retract back to your original spot. He inched closer to the workbench, nostrils flaring as he sniffed at the mixture in the fragile glass. “What is that? Tell me,” he demanded, the urgency in his voice increasing tenfold.
Although you were weirded out by how much this seemed to matter to him, you answered earnestly. “Some…strange project one of the Spiderwomen wanted me to work on. Something to attract spiders, but just the males to prevent them from fighting. Synthetic pheromones, essentially.”
“Huh. Smells like how you did this morning,” he remarked almost immediately, raising a brow in confusion.
You stood there, utterly winded by his words, unsure of what to say. Was he saying this figuratively to flirt with you? But judging from the look in his eyes, he was deadly serious. As your eyes locked onto the concoction that you had made that morning, your mind went to the jar that was sitting on your desk, opened. Without another word, you rushed to your office, taking the jar of body butter and inhaling its aroma deeply. You felt your heart drop to your stomach in terror, the scents were strikingly similar. Turning the jar around in your hands with haste, your eyes scanned for the list of ingredients, silently praying you weren’t rubbing what you thought you were rubbing into your skin.
As you searched, you felt Miguel’s presence right behind you, leaning over your shoulder as he examined the jar with you, inexplicably drawn to it. “What’s that?” he inquired, the strain in his voice from before making a return.
“The lotion I put on this morning,” you said dreadfully, turning your head to look up at him sheepishly. Still confused, he met your gaze only for a moment before he searched through the neverending list of ingredients.
“What did you put in that beaker?”
“Farnesyl acetate and hexadecyl acetate. If it doesn’t say hexadecyl, try cetyl.”
After a minute of searching, Miguel hunched over you to point at a specific spot on the jar. Following his finger, you sighed, laying your eyes on the very thing you didn’t want to see.
“So…” you began awkwardly, unable to wrap your mind around the information bouncing around in your brain. It started to connect like dots: how you attracted the Spidermen in the morning by the dozen, Jessica’s remark about you smelling like a “woman”, Miguel’s sudden lust for you. Then the notable absence of your eager Spider-crowd after your shower. “As your head chemist, I can conclude that spider pheromones can work on…us.”
“Evidently,” Miguel responded, visibly dumbfounded. Seeming eager to prevent more chaos from occurring, he took the jar and its lid from your hands, screwing the lid tightly shut before placing it on your desk carefully. “Where’d you even get something like that?”
“I didn’t. Lyla got it for me,” you confessed. Your mind went to that mischievous hologram. Did she know? Was this a clever attempt to kickstart something between you and Miguel?
“Lyla, that minx...” Miguel trailed off, and you caught a glimpse of his eyes rolling before he squeezed them shut, pinching his nose bridge in an attempt to quell what presumably was a string of curses toward his assistant. Immediately, he swiftly turned around, muttering quietly to himself as he made his way towards his exit. “I ought to give her a piece of my mind…”
You stared after him, about to leave him to his own devices before a thought crossed your mind. You remembered Miguel’s biology, the very thing that made him Spiderman in the first place: his DNA was spliced with one of a spider, effectively making him 50% arachnid. The pheromones you had been unknowingly emitting would affect him more than anyone else, and it proved to be true. An uneasiness settled into your stomach, was that the only reason why he wanted you?
“Wait,” you called after him, your voice betraying your attempted nonchalance. Miguel paused at the doorway, leaning against it as he turned to look at you with an arched brow. His eyes silently asked you to proceed.
“Is it… just the pheromones?” you asked, feeling your stomach twist and turn into knots as you awaited his reply. “You know, about everything, uh, earlier.”
Miguel pushed himself off of the door. “Well, it definitely gave me the push I needed,” he admitted, sauntering over to you with a grin so smug you wanted to smack it off his face. “But, if we’re being honest, I would’ve done it eventually.”
You blinked, processing his words.”You mean that? But you’re kinda mean.”
He sighed loudly, stopping just in front of you. “Idiot. Yes, I mean it,” he muttered, leaning down to cup your cheeks in his hands, his face levelling with yours. “You drive me crazy.”
And the kiss that Miguel left on your lips afterward was more gentle than the hungry, needy one he gave you before, dispelling any doubts you had about the true nature of his feelings. His lips were like heaven, slightly chapped from the labor of his mission from earlier, but you didn’t care. When he pulled away, there was a soft playfulness in his eyes you had never seen before.
“You got it?” he teased, his thumb smoothing over your cheek.
You managed a nod, resulting in Miguel gently patting your cheek before releasing you and turning to leave, still insistent that he give Lyla a piece of his mind. Giggling at his antics, you were about to grab your things to leave until you saw his head pop in the entrance once more. “Yes?” you called out.
“Bottle that thing up and label it as a hazard,” he ordered in response, pointing toward the open beaker on the bench. “It’s damn near chemical warfare,” he mumbled before disappearing again.
“Yes, boss,” you complied, unable to fight the grin that was now plastered to your face. As you bottled up your concoction, you made a mental note to thank Lyla. Again.
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originally posted on ao3! first fic i'm ever posting on tumblr and i'm so excited! feedback and suggestions for more stories are more than welcome!
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spidrrweb · 10 months
Note
new spiderverse clip dropped can we get some cute pavitr hcs please i love him so bad
pavitr crumbs for my lovies 🫶🏼
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SORRY THIS IS LATE ,, might be spelling errors cuz im sleepy and wrote this at 2 am 💔 | spiderverse masterlist
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oh my god is he smitten for you and all of mumbattan knows. thinks it's a little dangerous to show you off (doesn't want villains to target you) but he makes it known he has a partner. however, the spider society knows you.
introduced you to his auntie the second these feelings started to form, he wanted to make sure she liked you and see how well you two got along. (gets very happy whenever he comes home and sees the two of you talking over tea or watching some show together while you waited for him, or just to hang out.)
too much traffic? you missed the bus? can't find your bike? dont wanna walk? no problem, this boy loves carrying and swinging around with you.
promises to never drop you, however he 200% has pretended to drop you and accidentally did. freaked out more than you honestly and ever since then he's made sure to hold you extra tight.
has pictures of you all over his bedroom walls; a couple by his bed and a few by a couple posters he has. also keeps a lot of souvenirs from your dates: movie tickets? next to a picture of you guys. note you wrote? a doodle maybe? yup, theyre all up there somewhere
^ he always says good morning to the picture of you btw, gets super embarrassed when his auntie walks in and asks "who are you talking to?"
love language is psychical touch once this man has his arms wrapped around you, you're never leaving. and if you're spooning, he's the big spoon (loves resting his forehead on your shoulder, pressing sweet kisses on your back) however, he doesn't mind switching.
^ adding to this, he loves linking pinkies with you, thinks it's a little cuter than holding hands.
his scalp is sensitive, loves when you play with his hair and your nails gently drag. also likes when you make tiny braids, he'll keep them in for a while.
also gets flustered easily with or without you making him; if he's sitting in his room and you pop into his mind he's smiling like an idiot and melting right then and there.
LOVES making you laugh. Music to his ears and he loves noticing the little details when you laugh; maybe it's your dimples, or the way you cover your mouth when you laugh, or how your face might scrunch up, or your smile. he loves your smile.
Always insists on a "good luck kiss" before he goes into battle
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©spidrrweb 2023. thanks for reading loves, reblogs are always appreciated <3 REQUESTS ARE OPEN !!
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fabled-fiction · 10 months
Text
Not Canon
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Spider!Reader x Miguel O’Hara Implied
Summary: You’re a Spider and so is Miguel, which means it just isn’t meant to be. No matter how hard Miguel tries to convince himself otherwise.
Word Count: 687 (issa short blurb)
Warnings: SPOILERS FOR SPIDERMAN: ACROSS THE SPIDERVERSE.
You weren't canon.
At least, not for him.
There was a very specific formula that everyone had to follow, that he had to follow.
It has his word, basically his gospel. In order to keep the multiverse, the infinite web of realities together from collapsing in on itself. Never diverge from canon events.
He knew if he got too close to you he would absolutely diverge, or worse. You would get close to him and your world as both of you knew it would crumble.
And oh how he loved how much you loved your Earth.
Your Earth, the one that you fought oh so valiantly to protect. You were different from the other Spiders he could tell. Sure every Spider took their role with grace eventually, they always did. Some took some convincing while others only needed a few days. But you were different. 
You didn't even question your role after you were bit. Despite having no idea or clue as to what a Spider person was, it was like you immediately knew that you were destined for greatness after that bite. You transformed your role almost as quickly as that spider had transformed you. 
That's why you were recruited for the Spider society. It was an easy decision, sometimes he thinks it was too easy of a decision that he had made. That Jessica had made, that Layla had barely put a word in for. You were a Spiderperson for less than a month, but just like your role as a Spider you took your role in Spider society in an instant. You were a natural. 
Maybe it was the fact that your spider events weren't necessarily the same as every other spiders. That's what Miguel told himself whenever he let his mind wander a  bit too far, whenever he wanted to convince himself that maybe your timeline could be different. That you and him could pursue each other. 
He told himself that whenever he found himself looking too long at footage of yourself. Whenever you were away from the society, valiantly defending your Earth from the known enemies of the Spiders whenever they decided to finally pop up in your reality. Or just when you were here, thwiping about and teaching new charges about their roles in the ever expanding web.
Whenever he found his heart beating a little too fast. 
Whenever he had himself almost convinced that his aching hand could finally be cured by the hold of yours.
You were supposed to end up with an MJ. Those were just the rules. Just because you had not found your MJ yet didn't mean Miguel could occupy that space until the time came. Cause if he was being honest with himself the minute he made you his he wouldn't step down. He had taken the role of someone else before, he had replaced someone else’s role on another Earth.
That Earth was gone now, because of him. 
He would not go through that again. 
He wouldn’t let you EVER go through that.
Whenever he found himself lecturing the newest recruit that was taking the news a little too hard that a loved one had to die, saying his infamous speech about how saving one person was not a valid reason to doom thousands that little voice in the back of his head would begin to speak up. 
Because if he was being honest with himself, he was a hypocrite. 
And maybe that was the irony of his situation. That he was already breaking canon, that he would break canon just for you to be happy. But it was his canon, and other’s canons that he was metaphorically sacrificing just for yours to remain.
He would let a thousand Earths fall to ruin before he could even imagine letting you see yours fall. 
“Hey Miguel, you got a second?”
He would let every Earth burn just for a moment with you, you didn't even have to ask.
Because that's all he would allow himself. Faint moments, passing glances, and a few words exchanged. It was just barely enough to satiate his thirst for you. But it was enough to get by.
Because he wasn’t canon.
At least not for you.
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「 ✦ Peter Parker ✦ 」
╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all peter parker stories i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some with have summaries if provided <3
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🕷️ @waitimcomingtoo
🕸️ you wear those shoes and I will wear that dress
☕️ you and Peter are just friends but he accidentally kisses you goodbye.
🕸️ stolen moments
☕️ your secret relationship is exposed when Peter returns from a mission bruised and bloody and you comfort him in front of everyone
🕸️ the great war
☕️ Peters double life causes serious strain on your relationship.
🕸️ burnt face and second base
☕️ peter can’t seem to stop accidentally hurting his crush.
🕸️ my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand
☕️ when peter learns you have healing powers, he starts faking injuries to come see you until he gets seriously hurt.
🕸️ bringing sexy back
☕️ peter tries and fails to seduce you
🕷️ @webslingingslasher
🕸️ U.N.I pt2
☕️ frat!peter
🕸️ frat!peter blurbs
🕸️ frat!peter
🕸️ unknown sender
🕸️ campus
☕️ Peter has never had a one night stand, but when he meets you at a party that changes, until he has to pretend he never wants to see you again.
🕸️ cherry lube
🕷️ please call me peter by @shawnxstyles
🕸️ you haven’t been able to come with anyone besides yourself, making you think something’s wrong with you. once you go to the gynecologist, dr. parker shows you that you’re just fine.
🕷️ the last time by @delicate-dorothea
🕸️ Peter's on the verge of losing you after disappointing you yet again.
🕷️ medic in lace by @madlittlecriminal
🕸️ peters hurt but doesn’t care once he see what you’re wearing.
🕷️ fangirling over spiderman by @parkerpeter24
🕸️ reader fangirls over spiderman to peter not knowing it’s him.
🕷️ possession by @silkscream
🕸️ peter parker is not himself when he falls into your universe. it must be a curse that he finds himself tethered to you. the darkness inside him has never wanted anything more.
🕷️ need to know by @motherofdogs1010
🕸️ When she was ready to get back out on the dating scene after dumping a certain Winter Soldier, Y/N was a woman ready to get back out there. She just never expected to find herself in a relationship with a certain nerdy spider.
🕷️ naked by @reesewillow-delrey
🕸️ In which Reader walks in on a naked Peter, Reader laughs, Peter becomes insecure. Reader decides to show herself naked back in the worst moment possible.
🕷️ swing by by @sunshinesteviee
🕸️ peter is a fellow teacher, and is also your best friend at work. he helps you bring spider-man in to meet your class, but something about it seems a bit suspicious.
🕷️ picture perfect by @mattymattymerduck
🕸️ You’re hired to kiss Spider-man for the Daily Bugle’s next Spidey-centric article.
🕷️ potential customer pt2 by @int-writersmind
🕸️ you work at a record store, bored out of your mind, until peter parker walks in and catches you eye.
🕷️ lost the game pt2 pt3 by @nexusnyx
🕸️ The explanation your mind settled for was that whoever lived under that mask, also lived somewhere close by. It explained the first time you found him limping and bleeding on an alley, and it explains how you evolved into his personal caretaker for the wounds and afflictions of Spider-Man's after battle consequences.
The only thing it doesn't explain, however, is why through the thick and convoluted webs of your strange situationship, a certain tension has built between you two. Palpable. Physical. As electric as some of his tales, and as dangerous as he is.
The tension between you and Spidey grows, and it grows, and it grows. One day, it snaps.
🕷️ physics and english teacher love affair by @certifiedlovergirlsstuff
🕸️ those two teachers that students are always interested in their relationship status.
🕷️ celebrity crush by @cantstoptheimagines
🕸️ You have a crush on Spider-Man, unaware that he’s the one you spend all your time with.
🕷️ indefinitely you by @spider-stark
🕸️ In every universe, Peter Parker seems destined to fall in love with you. And, in every universe, he realizes it too late. When universes collide and two of them are granted a second chance at rectifying their biggest mistake, neither of them are willing to let the opportunity go to waste–even if you end up not being the person they thought you were.
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「 ✦ harry osborn ✦ 」
🕷️ request by @arkhamsrevenge
🕸️ cuddling harry
🕷️ make you better by @stickymolasses
🕸️ You're Harry's nurse and you can't help him feel better physically anymore, so you resort to playing therapist.
• masterlist
• marvel masterlist
hopefully all links work, let me know if not <3
last update march 25, 2024
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Love n' Locs | {P.P.}
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Pairings: MCU!Peter Parker x Black!Female!Reader
Summary: Peter, your love, helps you with your hair. (Takes place after nwh)
Word Count: 4.4k words
Content Warnings: Minors DNI Smut (female receiving), shower sex, multiple orgasms, swearing, May's death is mentioned briefly but nothing graphic, tooth-rotting fluff that made me cry while writing it
( Masterlist )
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A/N: HAPPY BLACK HISTORY MONTH!!! I PROMISE TO BE AS INSUFFERABLE AS POSSIBLE!!! (and also to not write angsty black!reader fics during this time because we have suffered enough. Only Joy <3 )
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You had the sweetest boyfriend in the whole world. He was so lovely and entirely devoted. He brought you flowers. He knew your favourite foods. He gave you hoodies and kisses when you were down. He held you close and listened intently. He encouraged you to chase your dreams and held your hand when you got scared.
You had never known love like this before. The kind that steals your breath every day. But that was just who Peter was. You would never get enough of him- but what was even more amazing, you know he feels the same.
He was a white boy, and you loved to tease him about his previous love interests. He always got a rosy blush when you called him a “snow bunny,” but he never got offended, recognising that you were only joking. He would sometimes call you his “melanated queen,” but only when making fun of people who did so sincerely.
He was refreshing in that sense. You had been around more than enough “woke” people who weirdly worshipped your blackness, but not Peter. He celebrated it; he celebrated you. 
Race wasn’t something that came up often between you. He would listen to your frustrations as they arose, but he never commented on the fact that you were black.
He never fetishized or tip-toed around you. Peter was a genuine ally, never feeling like he had to make a show of how much he believed your life mattered. He just supported and only acted when you asked him to. He may have a hero complex, but he didn’t suffer from the white saviour complex, and for that, you were grateful.
You woke up this morning feeling almost overwhelmed by that gratitude. Peter was asleep, his curls strewn about the pillow. You had convinced him to grow them out. You promised to play around all day with his hair, finding the right products and creams to use. He agreed because he loves it when you play with his hair.
His lips were slightly parted, plush and pink. A smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose glows in the early morning sun. They were very subtle, almost imperceptible unless you got the opportunity to track them down, inches from his face. You were happy to say you got that opportunity often.
Basked in light and in your arms is where he belonged. Not on the streets, fighting crime. He deserved to rest. He was exhausted last night. His eyes were half closed as he clambered out of his suit, tripping on the feet. He only agreed to a shower when you offered to join. You would have joined regardless, but there was no way in hell this man was climbing in your sheets covered in soot.
“I can feel you staring.” A small smirk pulled at his lips though his eyes remained closed.
You didn’t respond with words, instead deciding to pepper his sweet face with kisses. You felt his smile grow as you went, until it fell into a full-on laugh.
You swear his laughter had a direct line to your heart, the sound filled you, and your heart swelled to adjust. His hands found purchase on your hips and rolled you over until he was on his back and slotted between your thighs. His favourite place to be.
“You’re just so nice to look at, so handsome,” You tease.
You continue in your ministrations, your lips painting a path from his jaw to his cheek, his eyelids and his brows, up his forehead and down the bridge of his nose. All while cradling his face. Holding him like he was your most precious possession. Something deserving of the Louvre or the Tate. You poured out your love, letting it seep into his soft, golden skin.
While Peter was a giver, he struggled to receive. You took any opportunity to remind him how much you loved him, how much you appreciated him. You felt his deft fingers worm their way under your sleepshirt, where they fronted an attack.
“Pete!-”
You collapsed against his chest as your body racked with giggles. He flipped you around again, and you could do nothing as he continued to tickle you.
“Pe-Pete, no!”
His hands stilled but held you firmly. You slowed your breathing and finally opened your eyes. They were met with glowing stars, burning bright and filled with adoration. You tucked your head into the crook of his neck, feeling flustered by his unabashed gaze.
He only chuckles as he pulls you up to sit in his lap. His hands move to your back, painting soothing circles across your skin. You melt into the touch. You get hit with another wave of love, feeling it pulse against your ribcage. You begin leaving kisses across his neck, trailing across his collarbones. Peter takes the time to work his hands up your sides, massaging the muscle as he goes. You truly are putty in this man’s hands.
You find yourself on the other side of his neck, releasing a sweet sigh as his hands worked over your shoulders. His hands move to your neck, focusing on any knot he finds until they’re all gone.
You wrap your arms around his waist, pulling yourself closer and encouraging him to keep going. He removes your bonnet, setting it to the side, and massages your scalp. This was heaven. You moan at the feeling, and Peter chuckles.
“I really should be doing this for you.” Your words are muffled and slurred, but you know Peter hears them.
“Eh,” He shrugs, “it’s black history month.”
You both fall into a fit of laughter. Eventually, his hands disappear from your scalp, reappearing under your chin. You let it guild you, bringing you face-to-face with him. His smile is lazy and warm.
“Do I get any real kisses this morning?” You tilt your head to the side and pretend to ponder it. 
You let out a dramatic sigh, though, with your wide smile- you fool no one. “I guess you’ve earned it.”
Kissing Peter was one of your favourite pastimes. In a perfect world, your lips would only feel his skin. Always attached in some way. But these kisses were your favourite. The kind where your smiles get in the way. The slow and steady kind, where there’s all the passion but none of the rush. You simply get to be, enjoy, and love. His are soft and sure.
You feel safe here in his hands, treasured. Your arms rest lazily around his neck, your nails tracing shapes on his back. Peter tilts his head, deepening the kiss. His tongue swipes at your lips, and you don’t hesitate to part them. It dances with yours and makes you dizzy. You get lost in it for a moment before you pull away. Peter whines, and you can’t help but laugh at his little pout.
“Sorry, bub, I got a full day ahead of me, and I need to get started.” He squeezes your waist, and you jump as your nerves alight, sending those familiar giggles to your brain.
“But it’s your day off,” he says through his frown. “And mine…we get the whole day together.”
You lay a quick kiss on his jutted lip, “Yeah, but it’s wash day. And I wanna braid it out. That’s gonna take all day.”
Peter hangs his head in defeat for a moment before it shoots back up. He beams, sitting up straighter as he presents his idea. “I could help.”
Scepticism falls on your brow, “You wanna help…?”
He looks at you as if you’ve issued a challenge. “What? You don’t think I can?”
You laugh as you link your hands behind his neck. “I think you can; I just don’t think you understand the commitment you’re making. It takes me upwards of nine hours to do my hair.”
He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer and resting his chin on your chest. Your hands run through his hair as he gazes up at you like you hung every star in the night sky. “Well, I’ll be here, and you’ll be here, so I might as well help.”
You couldn’t argue with that logic.
“Peter, when you said you’d help, I didn’t think you meant like this.”
You were currently in the shower with your boyfriend pressed against you. His hands trailed up and down your stomach as he pressed sweet kisses down your neck. You felt his lips tug at the side, a smirk you knew well.
“Don’t worry about me. You can wash your hair, just pretend I’m not even here.” His lips find the spot that makes you shudder. He holds you closer, knowing your legs weaken when he does that.
“That’s not fair; you’re very distracting,” you retort as your hand reaches up to tangle in his hair.
Pete’s hands find your hips and give them a firm squeeze. He knew you loved it when he showed off how strong he was. He was playing you like a fiddle, but you couldn’t bother to be mad.
“Do you want me to stop?”
Peter knew the answer. He caught the way your pulse quickened when he suggested you shower together. He heard your breath hitch when he took off his pants. He could smell you even as he lathered you with soap. You just liked to tease; you liked to act tough. But your bravado quickly crumbled for him. And he loved that. That your gentleness, your piety, was only for him.
“No”
It left your mouth in a puff of air. So soft and sweet, whispered with the water. Peter wasted no time dipping a hand into your slit. His finger probed around, collecting your slick and teasing you further. His foot found yours and kicked it, spreading you apart farther. You moaned softly as he licked up the collum of your throat.
“All this for me?” He rubbed small circles on your clit, a small taste of what he could do, and you both knew it.
“It’s just the shower.” His other hand reached up, gripping you by the jaw and twisting your face towards him.
“I don’t think it is”
He picked up the pace and swallowed your moans. His pillowy soft lips devour you hungrily, and you can feel his hard-on in the crest of your ass. He rips away from your lips, and his hand goes to your boobs, pinching and pulling on your nipples. He enters you with one of his thick digits. He shows no mercy as he thrusts it into you, finding your g-spot in a matter of seconds. Peter knew your body well and loved reminding you of that.
He adds another finger, and your body involuntarily jerks, chasing Peter in all directions. He hisses as you grind against him. Your toes are curling, and the steam makes it hard to catch your breath. All too soon, he removes himself. You whine as your high is stolen from you.
He waits until your eyes are on him before he brings his fingers to his mouth. He hallows his cheeks around them before pulling them out with a soft pop and a moan. You watch with wide eyes as he runs his tongue across them, collecting every drop of your essence.
“You taste so good, baby.” 
He presses his praise into your skin- down your neck and across your shoulders. He continues down a path, following the curve of your spine. He takes quite the bite out of your ass, causing you to yelp, before continuing to nibble on your thighs.
Your hand tries to grip the wall and provide you with balance, just his gentle touches making you shake with anticipation. He notices this and throws your legs over his shoulders, your back pressed gently against the cold tile.
“You okay, baby?” You try to slow your breathing, nails scraping against his scalp, the wet curls wrapping around your fingers.
“Yeah, I'm good.” Peter loved communication; it was important to him. Though often, he would steal your ability to string anything coherent together.
“Good, 'cause I haven’t had breakfast, and I’m hungry." He sent you a wink before disappearing between your thighs.
You let out a cry as he suckles your clit. His grip on your thighs is bruising as he spreads them farther apart, whipping his head furiously between them. You’re seeing stars.
This is a stark difference from the sweet kisses you shared this morning. This was need, hunger, a carnal desire. He was chasing your high as much as you were. He moved his tongue inside you, the pink muscle scraping against your walls. You ground your hips down, and you both moaned.
You, because your clit bumped his nose, a jolt through your nerves that brought you closer and closer to your peak. And Peter, because he loves when you get off to him like this. He loves that he gets to see you like this, on the brink of desperation and lost in desire. He loves that he can make you this way. That he’s the only one who can.
Eating you out is Peter’s favourite pastime. In a perfect world, he would spend every moment between your thighs, drinking from the fountain of you, never satiated.
He grinds his face into you, loving how you flutter around his tongue. He loved every way your body told him you loved this. It was like picking up a new language. He knew the meaning of every twitch, sound, and pulse. He was fluent in you.
He felt the way your thighs were shaking and knew you were right there, you just needed a little push, and he was happy to provide. He cages your leg against his shoulder as he reaches around and presses firmly against your clit.
“Fuck! Pete!”
You cry his name, and he thinks it’s his favourite sound. It spurs him on further. He only wants you to respond like that. He moves his thumb, spelling his name as if your brain would subconsciously pick up on it, and you would say it again. He’s fucking you with his mouth and marking you as his.
Your orgasm crashes through you, a broken moan ripping from your chest, completely overwhelmed by pleasure. Peter continues to fuck you through it, drawing it out for as long as he can. Wanting everything you had to give him. He really was hungry.
Your body convulses, your grip on his curls strong as you try to pull him away. This doesn’t dissuade Peter by any means. He knows you can cum again; he needs you to cum again.
Your pulling on his hair inadvertently brings him closer, and he revels in it. His mouth trades places with his fingers, giving your clit a small break from his brutal beating.
However, you don’t recognise it as a “break”. Your sensitivity sends your brain into overdrive, or underdrive- you weren’t sure. All thoughts were half-baked, and your muscles were moving of their own accord. You were glad Peter was there to hold you because there was no way you would have been able to support yourself.
“Pe-Peter! I-unghhh”
Peter had to fight his grin, knowing that he rendered your brain useless, only able to think of him and your high. There was truly no more beautiful sight. Your jaw slacked, as a cacophony of lewd sounds fell from your open lips. Your brows furrowed as you chase your peak. Your unfocused eyes, half-lidded, looking down, searching for him. Your body quaking around him. He wished he could capture this moment on camera, encapsulate this moment forever.
You pushed your hips forward in a final thrust, taking his fingers deeper and his unholy tongue pressing harder against your sensitive bud. This time you scream, nearly collapsing over. Peter brings a hand to your throat, keeping you upright while he drinks from your fountain.
He gently removes his fingers from your core, and you whine slightly, bringing a spirited smile to his face. He wrapped your legs around his waist, admiring your completely blissed-out face. You were so beautiful. In any way, but especially this way.
You rested your head in the crook of his neck, not caring that you were panting on your auditorily sensitive, always-way-too-warm, boyfriend. To be fair, he didn’t care either. He would suffer through anything to hold you like this. And it was deserved. He did kinda render you useless.
He laid a kiss to your temple and you hummed, cuddling into him more. “Alright, coach me through the washing.”
He listened intently as you told him how much product to use and where to massage it in. He was careful to try and keep all the shampoo on your scalp, heeding your warnings of drying out your curls. He was so tender and sweet. He was much gentler with your hair than you ever were.
He peppered you with kisses as he coaxed you under the shower head. Despite your recovery and your ability to stand once again, Peter refused to let you down. Keeping you wrapped around him like a koala or sloth. You couldn’t say you minded all that much.
Peter was most excited to brush your hair. He had never really gotten to do that, as you only ever did it in the shower. He felt proud that you trusted him to do it now. It felt intimate, special.
Sometimes he would get to brush May’s hair. It was long and beautiful, and when he was younger, she would let him if he asked. He would have her sit on the floor as he stood tall, bending at the knees to accommodate his short little arms. He missed those moments with her. He missed her. But in you, he found new things to miss, and he was forever grateful for that.
He continues to run the comb through your hair, even when the knots were gone, because he loved how you melted into him. You were practically purring, and it felt nice to take care of you for a change.
He couldn’t count how many times you had patched him up, made him food because he had forgotten to eat, checked up on him, or helped him through an existential crisis. You were always there for him, his rock. He would be lost without you.
The water started to get cold, so you begrudgingly left, feeling a little betrayed by your water heater for ruining such a wonderful moment. Peter only set you down then, but ordered you to stay on the bathmat. You chuckled as you watched him run, butt-ass naked, through the hall. When he returned, he held a few towels and worn shirts in his hand. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to his smile. It will always make your heart stutter.
“Arms up,” He directs and you follow.
He wraps a towel around you, and you can’t stop the satisfied sigh that leaves your mouth. It was warm and fluffy, almost enough to put you to sleep. Once he’s secured it around you, he gently moves your arms back to your sides and places a sacrosanct kiss on your lips. Your only complaint was that it was too short; your body naturally follows him as he pulls away.
He chuckles, “Steady sailor. We still got a lot of work to do. Can’t get distracted now.”
You lovingly swat at him, and he rewards you with a laugh, one that squishes his eyes and crinkles his nose. It takes everything in you not to kiss him silly. But it’s not your fault; he knows better than to look at you like that.
“I brought you these to choose from. I remember you telling me cotton is better for your hair. So, here’s three of my shirts to choose from, and whatever you don’t pick, we get to wear.”
You can’t help but beam at him. You felt absolutely spoiled. You weren’t sure what you did to deserve such royal treatment. Usually, this kind of behaviour was reserved for birthdays and other such occasions. Not a Thursday afternoon.
But you relished in it anyway, telling him which shirt you wanted to wear and which one you wanted to use. He kissed you on the nose as he passed them both to you.
You explain every step you take as you do them, even coaching Pete through some parts as you let him try it. Peter is amazed by all the products and smells. He’s a little embarrassed as he struggles through some steps; you work with such grace and ease. You explain that the steps are a little different because you’re styling your hair today, instead of enhancing your natural curls. Peter tries his best to commit everything to memory.
While you’re blowing out your hair, Peter leaves to make breakfast. You don’t really need his help for it, and honestly, the sound of the fan bouncing around the tiled walls was a bit too grating for him. As he whips up your favourite breakfast meal, he scrolls through google images, trying to get a better idea of what you were wanting to do.
He sees a lot of looks he thinks you would like, but one sticks out the most. He hadn’t really seen it before, but he thinks you would look absolutely stunning. He’s watching a tutorial when you enter the kitchen. He’s so engrossed in the video you startle him as you wrap your arms around him.
His spidey senses work differently around you, and that’s something he’s still figuring out. His best guess is it doesn’t warn him about you because there’s not a single bone in his body that sees you as a threat. You’re the only person since he was fourteen who could sneak up on him. You don’t often do it on purpose, either. And he thinks his body knows that too.
Usually, his “tingle” lays dormant unless there’s a general danger, but now it’s…evolved in a way. If he focuses, he can almost feel you. He can just think of you, and his body will tell him if you’re distressed and where you are. His instincts lead him like a compass- to you, his true north.
There have been more than a few times he rushed home to check on you just to see that you’ve dropped something or were watching a scary movie by yourself...again. He loved it, though. He had never felt so close to anyone before. He loved that there were no defences between you.
“Whatcha watchin'?”
Pete pauses the video before he turns in your arms. 
“Have you heard of butterfly locs?” You grin, delightfully surprised. 
"Yes, I have,” you say as you peck him on the nose. “Why?”
“Well, it’s your hair, and you can do whatever you want. And I’ll help no matter what you decide. But I think you would look absolutely gorgeous in them. And you can do fun colours or add funky charms. But also, I know you said you were planning on the box braids, and I’m unsure how easy it would be to switch up the plan like that.”
God, could you love this man anymore? 
“It’s actually really easy. I still have to make a Sally’s run; I haven’t bought any hair yet. Do you wanna come with?” Peter nods his head fervently, and you can’t help but giggle at his excitement. 
Pete is in awe of the selection here. He had no idea there were so many options. He excitedly asks questions, and you’re happy to answer all of them to the best of your understanding. He happily holds everything you pass him and even convince him to get some products for himself, like a hair mask and some mousse. 
When you get home, Peter shows you the videos he watched and his strategy. He helps you section your hair and tries not to complain about the sticky gel too much. With his help, it doesn’t take nearly as long. You play around with the length and stylings, and once finished you’re very happy with it.
Peter was right; you look fine as hell. You check yourself out in the mirror and laugh when you catch Peter watching you from his seat on the bed through the reflection. He’s completely in his own world, his eyes ooze raw adulation, and you can’t help but feel a little flustered.
You walk over, slotting yourself between his legs. His hands come to rest on your hips, something he doesn’t even think to do. It’s just so natural. It’s where his hands belong.
“Do you like it?”
His expression never falters, as if he didn’t even hear you.
“Did you know that I am so in love with you? Like do you know? Because I am. So, so, very in love with you.”
You feel your cheeks warm, “Yes, I know.”
His dopey smile stretches, “I don’t think you do. But I’ll be sure to tell you until you’re sick of hearing it.”
Your heart is doing summersaults, “I don’t think that’s possible.”
He places a kiss to your sternum, “Well, I’ll do my very best.”
Suddenly you’re being pulled forward. You land directly on Pete, and if you weren’t aware of all his body was capable of, you might have worried about hurting him. Instead, you giggle at his antics and let him hold you tight.
Your new locs fall around his face, and he doesn’t think he’s ever felt so lucky. Here, hidden behind the curtain of your hair, it’s just you and him. You lay there for a while like that, just drinking the other in. It’s the perfect respite from all the chaos in the world. Your hearts beating together, your love flowing between you.
“I got you something,” Peter whispers. 
There’s no need for anything louder in this proximity. “What?”
His hand leaves your waist, and you hear a familiar thwip, then the crinkling of a bag. 
Peter opens his palm to you, and a small gasp leaves your lips. There rested a little charm; hung on a small ring. You picked it up and admired how it twinkled in the evening sun. A little spider, from your man. You sat up, looking in the mirror as you strung it through a loc. 
“Petey, it’s perfect!”
“Not as perfect as you.”
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Taglist: @barbecuetiddy, @heejinw0rld, @purple-amaranthe, @raajali3, @rudy-the-winged-wolf, @secretaccountlol, @scorpiolystoned, @thatblackravenclaw, @wannapizzamymindposts, @whoreforklitz,
864 notes · View notes
bitchyycapricorn · 11 months
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Almost There
Peter Parker x Ghost!Reader
Chapter One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven
Masterlist
Series Masterlist
Wordcount: 1.2K
Synopsis: Peter enters his apartment that night expecting to find an empty bed. But instead, he comes face to face with your transparent glowing figure.
Warnings: introduction fluff, angst, mentions of death and loss of family.
AN: not edited
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Peter swung through his open window, allowing the breeze to carry him in. His limbs tired and his hair a sweaty mess under his mask. When he entered his room he expected to find it empty, not a figure of a girl on his bed, seemingly waiting patiently for his arrival. His eyes narrowed at the sight of you, unsure how you got into his 5th story apartment. He was also unsure of why you appeared to be transparent, your whole figure seemingly glowing in the moonlight. Peter took a step forward to the bed, about to speak before you broke the silence.
“You can see me can’t you?” Your voice was soft and soothing, barley above a whisper.
Peter hesitated to respond, unsure of what to make of your peculiar statement. Of course he could see you, why wouldn’t he be able to see you? “Yes?” Is all he managed to get out, still wracking his brain for some sort of answer.
“I’m surprised,” you reply wistfully, your gaze slowly lowering to the ground. “Most cannot, usually only the children.”
Peter hesitated again, still unsure of you words. It didn’t help that his eyes were playing trick on him. As your body shifted ever so slightly to better face him he could’ve swore you’re figure flickered. “Who are you?” He didn’t sound nearly as intimidating as he had hoped he would. Rather he sounded more nervous than anything.
“Y/N L/N, I died a few years ago in the elevator accident.” You averted your eyes, gaze focusing on the full moon outside rather than the boy in front of you.
Peter froze, your words seeping in. “You…died?” He had never felt so unsure of what he was saying as he did in this moment.
You looked back over to him, giving a small nod. “Yes, the elevator, it fell while I was inside. The impact killed me.” You dropped your gaze once more, this time focusing on his red bedsheets. “I’m kind of trapped here, I can’t exactly leave.” A frown settles on your face as you attempt to pick at Peter’s sheet, your fingers coming in and out of reality.
“I didn’t even know ghosts existed,” Peter replied honestly, focusing now on your fingers. You were able to freeze your body back into reality for some time, but it was exhausting and took away most of your energy. You look up at him once again, scanning his red and blue suit.
“Where do you go every night? You are never in bed, not like the last boy.” You frown.
Peter stepped towards you, finally removing his mask and tossing it onto his desk. Your eyes lock on his face, examining all of his features. You had only seen him from between the walls so far, and occasionally through the window while you were on the balcony. “I go on patrol,” Peter replied hesitantly. “I’m kinda Spider-Man.”
You cocked an eyebrow at him, “Spider-man?” You repeated.
“Like, I’m a superhero with super ability’s.”
A smile grazes your lips “Oh? So you are half spider?” You ask slowly.
“Well, yes and no. I have you know, like super strength and can climb walls and all my senses are really heightened.” Peter replies, struggling to explain exactly what he can do without sounding too strange.
A smile officially settles on your face as you consider his words. “So that is why you can see me. You have super sight. That is good, I have missed having company. My family moved after the accident, the memories too much for them.” Your frown returned, recalling the day your folks left.
“Could they not see you?” Peter asked, slightly thrown off that your family would just up and leave.
“People cannot normally see me. The exception is children. The little boy who lived here before, he was around five. I used to play with him everyday after school but then he moved. His parents were concerned that he was seeing things, which I suppose he technically was. It just hurts, I really cared for him and they took him away.” Tears would have been falling from your eyes if you had frozen yourself.
Peters eyes flickered down to the carpet as he played with his suit. “That’s really horrible, were they the last people who lived here?”
You nodded, going back to playing with the blanket between your fingers. “Yes, the man before that family was always drunk and yelling. He was very angry and often scared me, even if he could not see me.”
“Oh, that’s, I’m so sorry.” A frown had settled on Peter’s face as well. His heart hurt for your story, even if he was still freaked out that he had a ghost sitting on his bed in his room. Nothing about you would have made sense if it weren’t for everything he’s ever experienced with the Avengers, including going to space and fighting a purple alien.
Your eyes drifted back up to Peters, a sad smile on your face. “Won’t you join me…”
“Peter, Peter Parker.” He finished.
“I like the name Peter, won’t you come lay with me Peter? I’ve missed being near someone. And you’re always gone so late I rarely have a chance to come see you.”
Peter hesitates once again, feeling suddenly flustered by the fact you’d been waiting to lay with him. “You want to sleep with me?”
You nod, confused by his hesitation. “Yes, the young boy used to lay down next to me and we would tell each other stories before he fell asleep. His parents did not pay him much attention.” You feel your heart drop at the memory of the little boy you loved so dearly, wishing more than anything he would’ve been your son.
“I-I’ve just never had anyone share a bed with me before.” He replied honestly, still feeling alarmed by the thought.
“Oh, I do not have to if you are uncomfortable. It just helps,” You admit, suddenly feeling bad for requesting to lay next to Peter.
But Peter nods, deciding he would give it a try since you were merely a ghost after all. “Alright, let me get my pajamas on and I’ll join you.” Peter begins to strip out of his suit, expecting you to turn around as he did so. But your eyes stay glued to his muscular body, taking in how good he looked in that moment. It wasn’t until after Peter had his pajama pants and shirt on did he notice your longing gaze.
“I miss my body.”
“Were you staring the whole time?”Peter squeaked.
“Yes?” You watch as Peters face heats up a bright red in the moonlight. “Are you embarrassed? You look very good.”
Peter shuffles over to the bed at a loss for words. “Normally people don’t watch others change.”
“Oh, well yes I just, you started changing so fast.” You admit, crawling up onto his bed to get under to covers. Peter crawls in next to you, awkwardly laying there as you both settle in. You exert all your energy into making your body whole again, solidifying your body and appearance before cuddling up to Peter. He jumps slightly, shocked at the feeling of your cold but solid skin. “You’ll hold me won’t you? It’s been years since I’ve been held by someone else.”
Peter nods hesitantly, wrapping his arms around your body. “Goodnight Y/N,” he whispers, dozing off to sleep almost immediately.
“Goodnight Peter.”
When Peter wakes the next morning you’re gone. He can’t help wonder whether it was all some twisted dream or if he would be seeing you again that night.
+++
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spideyzgirl · 10 months
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love’s magic 🪄
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A/N: are we feeling this? lmk
summary: you cook up a potion to get peter to fall in love with you; why isn’t he falling for you like he should?
warnings: a lot of sciency talk (i died writing it), witch!reader??? angst, fluff, a tiny tiny bit of stony
pairing: peter parker x reader
wc: 2578
masterlist | taglist
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peter enters the lab to find you at your regular spot at your table. you look up and smile upon his arrival. “hi peter, i made love!”
“you did what now?” peters eyebrows shoot up at your statement.
“i made a love potion!” you squealed, holding up a tiny vial filled to the brim with a reddish-pink hue. you shook the vial and watched with pride as the glittery liquid swirled around.
right off the bat, peter had a million questions. none of which he would ask, because he didn’t want to come off as jealous.
“that’s… wow! does it work?” peter forced a smile.
“don’t you see the two rats making out on my desk?” you gesture towards the clear container that sure enough, held smooching rats.
“yes i do, and it’s really unnerving.” peter frowned.
“we should probably turn around and give them some privacy.” you nod.
you shake the vial once again and smile at peter. “well? what do you think? you haven’t said anything yet…”
peter takes it from you to shake it around for himself, watching concoction swish inside. he can feel the jealousy growing stronger. “yeah, it’s cool.” peter gives a small smile, trying his best not to infringe on your achievement.
“just cool? peter, i’ve been through months of trial and error to finally perfect this thing. “cool” is all you have for me? i mean, this is super intense! when consumed, it’ll flood your brain with pleasure inducing chemicals. i’m talking dopamine, oxytocin- any love hormone you can think of. not only does it affect the neurotransmitter process, but it also has a powerful affect on the brains reward system.”
“i have a reward system in my brain? that sounds awesome, what is that? what does it do?” he beamed. peter loves when you get enthusiastic about science. he doesn’t understand half of what you’re saying, yet he listens and nods intently anyway. he adored seeing you so excited about your passion.
“the reward system is what drives us to seek out food, water, and other necessary things for survival. when someone ingests the love potion, the brain starts to recognize the object of their affection as a necessary part of their survival, which causes them to crave that person in a similar way to how they would crave food or water. so, is it still just cool?” you smirk, knowing you’ve piqued his curiosity.
“no, it’s amazing! it’s also kind of scary. i’m really happy you had your breakthrough.” peter offers a smile and looks off to the side.
“but what? i’m open to criticism.”
“well, i’m just wondering who you made it for. you must really like this person, if these are the lengths you’ll go for them…” he scratches his head.
“i made it for me.” you reply simply.
peters heart drops at your answer. “why, are you trying to fall in love or something?” he nervously chuckled.
“i’m already in love. i’m just not so sure he’s in love with me.” you sigh dejectedly.
really, you made it for peter, but you weren’t about to tell him that. you’ve had feelings for him for far too long now, and the need for him to be yours was overbearing. your subtle hints might’ve been too subtle for peter, and you didn’t have a drop of courage for you to be forward either. so you did what you do best.
“you couldn’t have just… talked to him? did you really have to go to such an extreme measure?”
your eyes widen slightly, the tone of his question threw you off. “wait you don’t think this is weird do you?”
“no! i’m just saying, all those months you spent creating a potion could’ve been used to actually talk to this person, you know?”
“i guess you’re right.. maybe i shouldn’t have done this then?” you look at the potion as you think.
“no you totally should’ve! you’ve done something incredible here, don’t be ashamed!”
“no, it’s okay. i know i’m probably way in over my head. but, there’s just so many times you can drop hints to someone so oblivious.” you shrug with a smile.
“who is this idiot anyway? i can’t believe he pushed you to such a point.”
“oh, you know. just a guy. he’s usually not so dumb.” you stifle a laugh as you answer.
“oh come on, i don’t get to know who it is? that’s lame.” he playfully shoved you.
“you’ll find out when we’re together.” you smile in a way that told peter your lips are sealed.
“alright, i’m holding you to that,” he hands you the vial “i’ve gotta run soon, but good luck with your.. guy.”
“thanks,” you pull him into a hug, which he gladly reciprocates. you’re not sure why you did it, but it felt right. you get butterflies when his hand gradually moves to your lower back. you wanted to think he was testing the waters, seeing how far he could get before you stopped him.
“oh god.” peter gasped, his hold on you slightly loosening.
“what? what is it?” you pull away while your hands rest on his forearms.
“the rats are having sex, y/n. why are they doing that?”
“i feel like that’s pretty self explanatory. they don’t call it a love potion for nothing you know.” you wink.
“you didn’t know that would happen, did you?” he laughed.
“nope. i did not. but it’ll be fine! i’m not gonna go that far, if that’s what you’re worried about.” you tried to hide your smile at his concern.
“good. but what if your potion works a little too well? what if this guy can’t control himself? what if he goes so crazy over you he’ll try to hurt you?” peters grip on you tightened as he spoke, you didn’t even know he was still holding on.
“oh, he’d never. he would never hurt me in a million years. there’s nothing to worry about, this is safe, i promise. but thank you for worrying about me.”
“you know i always got you.” and it’s true. peter cares you so much, he’s willing to push you into the arms of another guy if it makes you happy, even if it kills him inside.
*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*
later that night, peter found himself being lured into the kitchen by the sweet smell of freshly baked cookies. just as you set a fresh tray of them on the counter, peter was instantly behind you.
“ooh, cookies? don’t mind if i do!” peter quickly snatches a cookie and bites into it, humming at the delicious taste.
“peter no! those cookies are…” you trailed off, wondering why you were warning him, when the cookies were for him after all. “are… fresh out of the oven! they’re piping hot, don’t you wanna wait for them to cool?” you smile nervously, watching him carefully for any minor changes.
“sorry, i couldn’t help myself. they’re just too good. are they homemade?”
you nod, watching with worried eyes as he shoveled two more into his mouth. “okay, maybe you should slow down? i don’t want you to get a tummy ache..”
“i’ll be alright,” he shrugged. “besides, i’ll have you to take care of me.”
your heart flutters at the statement, and you try your best to hide your smile.
peter frowns slightly and hums. “hey, these kind of taste sparkly.”
“it must be starting to kick in,” you mumble to yourself. “are you feeling alright? come here.” you place your hands on his cheeks on his face to check his temperature, but he feels normal. while you wanted the spell to work, you still wanted to make sure it wasn’t going to hurt him.
“please, just don’t eat anymore cookies? you’ve had more than the necessary amount of doses.”
“doses?” his head slightly fell to the side.
“uh, why don’t we let the cookies cool? i bet they’ll taste even better then.” you ignored him.
“oh, okay. so tell me. what’s the secret ingredient?”
you smile, seizing your opportunity. “love.”
*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*
it didn’t take long for you to doubt the success of your potion. it should’ve taken effect within the first few minutes consumed. it’d been 4 hours since peter ate the cookies, and you haven’t seen him since.
either the spell wasn’t working, or it killed him.
if the spell was working though, the effects didn't seem to be as powerful as you’d anticipated. you began to wonder if all of your hard work had been for nothing.
“peter, you better be dead,” you huffed as you checked the time on your phone again. “i knew i should’ve tested this on steve and tony.”
then you decided, maybe all hope wasn’t lost. perhaps you needed to put in a bit of effort on your end. you were a bit on the shy side, it wouldn’t hurt to take initiative from time to time.
you texted peter to meet you in your room and in no time, he strolled inside taking a seat by you on your bed.
“what’s up?” he greets you.
“nothing, just look at me.” you stare into his eyes, searching for any hint of interest in you.
peter blinks and rubs his eyes. “shit, i lost. you never let me win.”
“what? we weren’t- you know, what never mind. just come closer.”
peter obliged, and you embraced him in a tight hug. “how does this feel? pretty intimate, right?”
“warm, cozy, everything a y/n hug should be.” he sighed
you groan and let go of him. “so you don’t feel anything at all?”
peter looks at you for a moment and thinks. your heart beats faster. this is it, he’s going to say everything you’ve been dying to hear for the past year.
“well… i’ve had this awful cramp in my calf lately. i’m just not sure what to do. what do you suggest?” he asked simply.
your heart sank. it seemed that all your efforts had been in vain. you spent so much time and energy making this potion, and for what? it didn't seem to have any effect on peter.
“that’s not what i mean! why didn’t it work? i’ve been trying for months!” you rest your forehead on your knees, unable to stop the tears from rolling.
“woah, what’s going on?” peter frowned, placing a hand on your back. but you don’t answer.
you couldn't help but feel defeated. you put so much of yourself into this project, and now it seemed like a complete failure. not only were you unsuccessful with your potion, but the boy you were hopelessly in love with didn’t take even a slight romantic interest in you. the realization was like a punch to the gut.
“what’s it gonna take for you to want me? i’m asking you now, because i can’t seem to figure it out for the life of me! i go as far as making a love potion just to get you to like me and it still won’t fucking work? i can’t do this for much longer! i spent months working on that potion,” you spat out, your voice quivering with rage. “i researched every ingredient, every spell, and every technique. so i would love for you to tell me, what it is about me that repels you?”
you’re almost panting from the anger, though it wasn’t directed towards peter. you wiped at the tears, but they kept coming.
peter was stunned with your outburst. it was definitely a lot to process. selfishly, the only thing he took from that was that you liked him. the same girl he’d been pining after for years was finally reciprocating. peter spent so much time dreaming about this moment but he never thought it would actually happen.
he mouth went ajar as he stammered, failing to form a coherent sentence. you never yelled at him before, he didn’t know how to react. all he could manage was, “you made that potion… for me?”
“yes,” you utter feebly, avoiding his eyes. “but it doesn’t matter anymore. we can just pretend this didn’t happen. my potion didn’t work, and you’re just not into me.”
“no. i can’t do that,” he shook his head, a grin plastered on his face. “not when i finally know you feel the same way about me.”
you look at him, confusion evident on your face.
“i’ve been working up the courage to ask you on a date, but i couldn’t after you told me you were making a love potion for someone else. do you know how much that crushed me?”
“and you didn’t stop me?” you fought a smile.
“i couldn’t. you were so excited about the spell working, about the person you were gonna use it on. i didn’t wanna ruin it for you because i love you.”
“i love you too,” you smile shyly, toying with the bottom of your shirt. “we’re so stupid.”
“no kidding. i can’t believe you made a potion instead of telling me you like me.”
“i can’t believe you told me to go be happy with someone who isn’t you.” you playfully bump into him, and he takes your arm gently, keeping you close.
“you’ll never hear it again.” his eyes are locked on your lips while his other hand delicately grips your chin, pulling you closer and closer until your lips meet.
your eyes flutter shut as you lose yourself in the moment. it was an explosion of sensation, your bodies coming together in a perfect harmony that felt like it had been brewing for months. it wasn't just a kiss, but an emotional release that had been building for years. you couldn't get enough of each other, your lips moving against the others in perfect union.
you both reluctantly pulled apart, breathless, knowing that nothing between you would ever be the same again; you were perfectly fine with that.
“holy shit.” you gasp.
“what happened?”
“i think i know why my potion didn’t work on you. you were already in love with me, so of course it wouldn’t work on you! i’m not a failure after all.”
“of course you’re not. i can’t get those rats out of my mind. i think in pictures, so you can imagine how horrible this is for me.” he shook his head.
you gasp again, standing up so fast you see spots. “i left the cookies out!”
“it’ll be fine. just stay here with me. we need to make up for lost time, don’t you think?” he winked.
“you haven’t figured it out yet? the love potion is in the cookies!”
“wait, are you serious?” he frowned.
you rolled your eyes and dragged him towards the kitchen. you cursed when you found that all of the cookies were gone.
“oh god. this could be bad.” you wince.
just then, steve sprinted through the kitchen with tony hot on his trail. “come back you coward! you can’t escape my love, no matter how fast you run!” tony yelled after him.
peter covered his mouth as he laughed, and your jaw dropped.
“that right there was an immediate call for an antidote.” you immediately turned to leave.
peter looked to the side in horror, to see thor in a full heated make out with his hammer. “please hurry,” he shuddered. “that’s image number three unfortunately seared into my brain today.”
you turn your attention to thor and shrug. “i honestly think that would’ve happened with or without the potion.”
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unpublishediary · 5 months
Text
Focus On My Heart (peter parker)
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INTEREST₊˚ Peter Parker X Reader
SYNOPSIS‧₊˚ Reader also gets bit by a radioactive spider a bit later and goes through sensory overload during school, Peter comforts them through it.
WARNINGS(S)‧₊˚ Sensory overload
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You gave the person behind you ten seconds to stop clicking their pen right behind your head. When you got to ten, you turned around to tell them to stop, but it wasn't them. Confused, you looked around, still hearing the sound, but the person behind you was asleep.
Your breathing quickened when it continued. Other sounds started to force their way through your ears. Someone was drumming their nails on the desk, the crinkling of a water bottle. Your breathing quickened when it continued, the ticking of the clock, then, worst of all, the bell.
The bell was defining. It rang through your ears aggressively, signaling it was time to leave and leaving you to stumble through the door.
The world was too loud, you could hear way too much. Every heartbeat, every whisper, every breath, every footstep, and more traveled through your senses at once.
Thump.
You covered your ears and could feel the tears in your eyes despite them being clenched shut. It was overwhelming your senses. Your heartbeat the fastest of them all. You could hear the blood rushing through your head and body.
The fly was buzzing across the hall, the sound of the lightbulb as the energy zapped rapidly, every footstep, every scratch, every heartbeat, every breath, every-
"Hey," a panicked voice stood out in the sea of noises. You tried to calm down, not wanting any attention, but you couldn't steady your breathing; it was out of control.
Scratch.
The feeling of hands on your shoulders shook you into a panicked state, the friction against your clothing onto your skin felt suffocating.
Thump
"Hey, it's ok," It was the voice again. Attempting to steady your breathing, you listened the best you could, "I know it's hard, and it feels like everything is overwhelming, but I need you to focus on my voice."
You clenched your fists, trying your hardest to focus.
Tick, tick, tick…
"Please," they said, pulling your hands out of their clenched form and holding them lightly. "Focus on me, find my heartbeat." They brought your hand to their chest.
The second your hand touched their chest, you felt everything inside: heartbeat, breathing, the blood running through their veins, everything. You couldn't do it. The best you could do was shake your head. You couldn't; there were too many people, too many sounds, too many everything.
"You need to focus, their voice grew desperate. "You can feel everything, and I know, but your hand is directly on my heart, find it and focus, it'll help."
In all of the chaos going on inside your head, you directed all your energy to your palm through your pounding headache. You had to find it, to focus.
Tick, tick…
Scratch…
Buzz…
Thump,
Thump, There.
The fight to slow down your breathing became easier every time you sensed a beat.
"That's it," you then recognized the voice as Peter. "Stay focused on my heart."
You would never tell him, but his voice calmed you down more than the sound of his heart ever could.
"Breathe with me." He whispered, “You can open your eyes, the lights are off.”
The thought of opening your eyes terrified you, to go through the same thing again. You shook your head slowly in protest, trying to keep the composure you fought so hard to gain.
You felt a hand cup over your eyes, "Start small."
Your eyelashes brushed Peter's palm as you opened your eyes, through a small crack of his fingers, you could see his brown eyes full of concern. How did he know what to do? So many questions filled your brain as you became more aware of your surroundings. You were in a dark and empty classroom.
Peter noticed that you were trying to look around, "I'm gonna bring my hand down."
You nodded, and he took it down slowly. His eyes met yours in the dark. His hair was slightly messed up. His facial expression was twisted into something you've never seen on him, before you could figure it out, he looked down.
You almost laughed at the possibility of someone walking in and seeing this; they would definitely get the wrong idea. But your smirk fell once you followed Peter's gaze to his now bloody shirt.
You looked down at your palms, and blood flowed out of indents made by your nails. You didn't notice that you were crying until he brought his hand to your face to wipe your cheek. Looked up again, his face read all of the unanswered questions you had. "Later," he dismissed it. "The nurse is out so let's get this clean,” he touched your palm softly.
You didn't like the way his voice spoke to you like you were about to break. You hated seeming vulnerable, but you do owe it to Peter for helping you. You didn't know what you would have done without him. You appreciated it so you said nothing while he pulled out a small kit from his backpack, unraveling the supplies.
"Breathe for this," he warned. The cleansing wipe was centimeters away from your skin, and you nodded.
It stung, but you were too exhausted to show it, the earlier events taking its toll on you. Peter cleaned the small indents out like he had years of experience doing this with unusual gentleness.
When he was done, it seemed like he wanted to say something. You nodded your head to encourage him to speak up.
"Do you- Do you want to talk about it?"
You eyes snapped to his, “No," but he gave you an unconvinced look back. You took a deep breath and looked at him, your voice trembling slightly, "Yeah, I think I do. It's just… I don't even know where to start. It's like everything suddenly became too much, and I couldn't handle it."
Peter nodded, understanding, and put away the first aid kit. He sat down beside you, and you felt a sense of comfort in his presence. "It's something I went through a while ago," he admitted gently. That sentence left you with so many questions, but you decided against asking them at the moment. As you sat there in the dimly lit classroom, you couldn't help but feel more than grateful for Peter. He had a way of calming you down and making you feel safe that didn't make any sense. The episode had left you drained, but you knew you weren't alone, and you didn't have to face it all by yourself.
A comfortable silence washed over the dark room as you leaned on his shoulder, falling into a comfortable sleep.
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imagine--if · 8 months
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A/N: I've always loved Harry but I've rewatched TASM and I've gotta write for him now to fill up his tag a bit.. and cus it's hArRy 🥰 so there are more fics for him to come!! also, am I the only one who rambles when I'm nervous? I'm gonna safely assume not lol 😅 dorky readers are cuteeee
Wordcount: 460
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It was interesting, to say the least, to see how the lucky few got to live in San Fransico, all the executives and bosses and CEOs gathered together for their fancy gathering poorly disguised not to look like a place to trade business and earn even more money, though their conversations always drifted back to it.
You grabbed your things together from your desk at the end of the day at Oscorp, swinging your bag over your shoulder and brushing your hair out of your face tiredly. Everyone knew by now about Norman Osborn's death, and there were a lot of contrasting opinions about his son taking over the company at such a young age. You'd never met him properly yourself, and were pretty convinced that he wouldn't be much different from the other money-makers strutting through the building and giving you more and more work to do.
That is, of course, until you walk right into the man himself when you turn around to get to the elevator.
Your eyes widen in confusion and mild annoyance until they meet the cool, vaguely interested blue gaze of Harry Osborn, who surprisingly doesn't look at you like you're something he's scraped off his shoe. If anything, he looks a little amused, raising a brow slightly as your brain short-circuits to think of a good enough excuse.
"Uh- I'm sorry, I wasn't.. looking where I was going," you say with an awkward smile, unconsciously rambling. "I was looking... that way, because... it's where I came from."
Again, instead of the look of disdain and apprehensiveness you half expected, Harry looks like he's trying not to laugh, glancing in the direction before looking back at you.
"It's okay," he says simply, a small smirk on his face, as he takes you in for a short moment. "You work here?"
You nod, smiling. "Yeah. And you do too? I mean... you're Harry Osborn, so... you're the CEO."
Harry's smirk grows. "I am, yeah."
You smile awkwardly, feeling as if the young man is searching your eyes for something, in a kind of interest or intrigue about your personality, and glance at the lift.
"I should probably..."
"Hang on," he calls after you as you go to walk away, and you turn back to see his cool blue eyes shining with curiosity... and something more that you couldn't quite identify. "What's your name?"
You tell him with a half-smile, and Harry repeats it thoughtfully, his gaze drifting for a moment before returning to you with the same intrigued smile and oddly intense stare.
"I'll see you around."
You smile, reaching the elevator. "You will?"
Harry smirks, pressing the elevator button for you as the thick glass doors seal close between you and him. "You will."
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deathc-re · 6 months
Note
do you take requests? if so can I ask for more of your Hobie headcanons plz??
-🌻
an: don't let me down the rabbit hole cause i have so many lmao
hobie has a tongue piercing. you knew it, he knew it; everyone knew it. but what y'all don't know is that he'd bought a vibrating one to surprise you with.
it's a regular night, things get hot as they usually do between you two, but when he dutifully places himself between your legs, a rhythmic humming sound catches your attention. before you can push up onto your elbows and look at him with question a harsh feeling is put onto your clit. you gasp at the sensation and as it only intensifies, becoming more pleasurable with each swipe of his tongue, you can't help but moan.
he bought it for himself as much as he bought it for you. he loved pleasing you, every twitch and shudder of your body making his already hard dick painfully harder.
it soon became too much for you, the sucking, the vibrating, his fingers against your nipples, his encouraging grunts and looks. your fingers found their way to his hair, gripping a few wicks which only seemed to spur him on. your eyes shut tightly as your legs clamped around his head.
ecstasy took over your body as stars took your vision. your body shook, your voice trembled, and your boyfriend couldn't be more proud of himself. praising himself smugly in his head as he lapped up all your arousal.
"i take it you like the new ring." he chuckled, sitting back and maneuvering himself out of his boxers.
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shaynawrites23 · 5 months
Note
🤭 of failing in the study aspect and so you won't be able to achieve your dream (this is so personal rn)
With Peter (parker of course) or Remus or Sirius. Whichever inspires you
You'll Succeed
Pairing: Peter Parker x reader
Word count: 745
A/N: it's been really long since you requested this, im sorry 😅 if you still see this, i hope you enjoy!
When Peter came back from class, he expected to find things different from how he'd left them. He's been gone a couple hours, after all, and you'd assured him before he left that you'd finish up your work while he was away and take the rest of the day off, to give yourself a bit of a break after all your hard work. You'd even discussed dinner plans, and while he'd said time and time again that he'd cook, and that you just had to sit back and relax, you'd said something about getting it started, and he had to choose between bickering with you about it or being on time for class.
What he found upon coming home, though, was not what he'd hoped for. Surrounded by textbooks, papers and a half-full cup of tea, you're still busily typing away on your laptop, as though you haven't moved since he left. He touches a hand to your cup, his backpack hitting the floor with a dull thud.
Cold.
And all this while, you don't stop your incessant typing, don't take your attention off of your work for longer than it takes you to say, "hi, Peter, how was class?"
Peter ignores your question.
"Babe," he sighs, saving your document with one hand and gently closing your laptop with the other, "I thought we agreed you'd take the rest of the day off?"
"Yeah," you sigh back, swiveling in your chair to face him, hands gesturing helplessly as you talk. "But then I looked at my planner, and I- there's so much more to do, Peter, and if I can't do it all I'm gonna fail this class and watch my dreams slip through my fingers. Like little dandelion seeds floating on the wind."
He's ready to make a joke, but you look so exhausted, so dejected and genuinely afraid of all your work being for naught, that he swallows those words and replaces them with something gentler.
"Hey, babe. Babe, look at me." His warm hand touches your chin, gently guiding you to meet his eyes as he kneels in front of you. "You're up in your head again. I promise you, one night off isn't gonna shatter your dreams. It'll be good for you, actually; if you keep pushing without a break, you'll only burn out and get sick, and then you'll lose more time. Take a break with me, yeah? Come relax, we'll make those little dessert things you like, we'll watch your favorite show and I'll give you lots of kisses."
Damn, that's tempting. Part of you wants nothing more than to say yes, but then the overwhelming guilt of not being productive takes over and you shake your head, blinking back tears.
"I can't, Peter. I can't lose this, this opportunity, this- I've dreamed about this for years and I can't lose my chance, not when I'm so close- Peter, I want this so bad, but what if I can't-"
You cut yourself off there. The thought of not achieving your dreams, not getting what you want so badly, what you've worked so hard for, is painful to think about, and a single tear rolls down your cheek as you take a deep breath and remind yourself to think about something else. Alarm flashes across Peter's face, but he tries his best to hide it and reaches up to gently brush your tears away with his thumb.
"Hey, angel, don't think like that. You really think you could lose it, when you've worked this hard? Babe, don't underestimate yourself. You've worked hard, you're still working hard, but you can't work yourself to death either. You need to find a balance, between work and rest. And get those thoughts of failure out of your head, okay angel? You're not gonna fail. Not your class, not your course, not at your goals. You'll succeed, I promise."
Peter sounds so earnest, so honest, so much like he truly believes you can do it, that you can't do much more than stifle a sob and nod, reaching for a hug he's all too happy to give you.
"That's my girl," he smiles, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek. "Now, no more work tonight, okay? Come to the kitchen, and remind me how to make those dessert things you like before I mess it up and something completely different comes out of the oven."
Your answering giggle is all he needs to smile.
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noah1986 · 10 months
Text
El señor de la noche...
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MDNI
tw: smut / oral sex / vaginal sex. 
2 years ago, you met Miguel. 4 dates. 
One day he just vanished, leaving you confused and misplaced. Truthfully, you didn’t know much about him, just that he was a geneticist traveling constantly. 
After Miguel’s disappearance, you swear on your future that you wouldn’t let anyone approach you to make you fall in love and leave just like that.
The rain on the cement reflected the poor light from the street lamps. Your apartment felt too still. Every single night was too quiet, too empty you missed having someone. 
The routine was getting old, cooking dinner, cleaning the kitchen, showering, and going to bed. Sometimes touching yourself to clear your mind. 
As you grew tired, you decided to take a shower. Your body felt heavy and somehow your mind was playing games. Catching what seemed to be a red shadow in the corner of your eye. 
Your bedroom was cold, as you walked to your closet to grab a hoodie, the light coming from the window was interrupted by a giant black figure. 
- “What...”
He got closer...Miguel was wearing Spiderman’s suit, and at that moment, everything clicked. His disappearance.
- “You are him?” It came like a mumble. 
To say you were mad at Miguel was wrong at this very moment, you could only feel confusion. The very man that put you in this place full of hesitation and sadness came back like nothing after so long.
- “Sí.” His eyes were like fire without an ounce of remorse. He was broader, full of muscle in every inch of his body. His fangs were more prominent. He looked agitated. Tall as usual. 
- Why did you come back after so long? Your eyes are glued to the floor, a heart filled with sadness and the anticipation of the worse. 
- “Cause now I can have you without any problem” Miguel went through a lot since the night he left you. Working out all the possibilities to have the best outcome. To have you, all to himself. 
- “But Miguel...” Your eyes fixated on his, your chest heaving, so much was going on. 
The man you wanted and thought about every night for 8 months after he left was in front of you, looking like an absolute God. No more denying you wanted him all over you, touching every part of your body. You were angry but having him towering over your frame was too much for a mortal. 
Miguel has always been like this. Too much presence, power, strength, discipline, and determination. 
The hard thing to accept was that you were as attracted to him as you were 2 years ago. Probably more.
His eyes were devouring your nipples that were showing through your thin shirt. 
Your mouth and soft skin were screaming to be taken. Miguel wasn’t stupid and noticed the sublime messages. 
He captured your lips taking his time with memorizing the taste and feeling of them. His hands didn’t have enough of you grabbing your ass and caressing the skin of your back. 
Between moans and gasps for air...
- “Te extrañé tanto muñequita.” You understood enough to know what he meant. 
He grabbed your legs and carry you to bed. His arms on each side of your head, wet kisses, from your mouth to your now bare chest. Licking, sucking, and biting your nipples with so much passion, you thought you might come.
- “Tell me what you want” He opened your legs putting each one on his broad, hard muscular shoulders. Teasing you, playing with your clit in between his fingers, saying dirty things with his eyes going from yours to your clothed pussy. 
- “Make me yours” Pleading eyes and moans were more than enough to send him into oblivion. The materialization of all his dreams is right in front of him. 
- “Oh I will, but first I’m going to ruin you” Miguel was possessed by his worst demons, lust, and anger, and he let himself be consumed. The lust of dreaming every night with your presence and the anger of having to leave you.
He ripped your panties and open your lips, licking all the moisture coming from your hole, making circles, up and down until your clit was so swollen you couldn’t even talk, your hands touching his while his claws were restraining your thighs from moving. Miguel was an animal and you were his prey crying, asking for help. Your orgasm showered you with bliss and he didn’t stop licking you, collecting your juices mixed with his saliva. 
His knees hit the mattress, grinning like a feral monster ready to take every orgasm he could claim. 
- “Miguel...” Came like a whisper, almost nonaudible. 
Grabbing your legs and leaving wet kisses all over them, sucking your fingertips, caressing your thighs, ready to break you with his cock. 
- “I’m going to make you scream my name so much your neighbors will know it.” He was determined to show you how much he has craved your skin since the moment he met you. He never touched you in such a way at the beginning. And after he left he only dreamt about having you for at least only one night. 
It was everything about you that drove him insane. Your smile, eyes, hair, and the way your delicious ass stretched your leggings. 
Tonight he had you all for himself. He grabbed your hips and turned you around, getting you on all fours, he rubbed slowly your clit and penetrate you, waiting a few seconds to give you the time to adjust to his size. 
He fucked you mercilessly, almost disconnected from reality with all the pleasure he felt from your moans and whimpers, how warm and tight you were. 
In and out. Spanking you and telling you the most obscene things. 
“Quiero que te vengas hasta que no puedas más” 
“Me encanta este culo”
“Me pones loco”
“You want a baby?”
“My fucking slut, this pussy is fucking mine” 
For a moment everything was too much and you let yourself go, cumming as he followed you. The warmth of his semen all over your pussy, you wanted him, always like this. He captured your moans with his lips. He was hovering over you leaving soft kisses on your shoulder.
He took care of you, making sure you were cleaned. In his mind, nothing could be better than this. Finally, he was home. 
After a few moments in bed, talking nonsense and laughing Miguel went quiet and deep in thought, your head resting on his chest. Whispering 
“Perdóname por como me fui, no dudes que te pense cada día” His forehead touching yours, and smiling.
“Te amo, muñeca”
“Me too”
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heliads · 7 months
Note
Can you do a Peter Parker (Andrew Garfield) x Avenger reader one-shot? The reader is a Hydra experiment turned Avenger who has hawk wings and can fly like a bird. She can hide her wings by folding them like a bird can. She grew up somewhere in the US and doesn’t remember her parents, so the closest thing she has to a family is the Avengers. She meets Peter and starts dating him. Her alias, chosen by Tony, is Hawk, which Peter thinks is a little on the nose.
masterlist
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You know, at moments like this, you’re really not sure if you’re dreaming or not. The setting around you seems real enough, but it’s happened so many times before that you’re starting to progress past deja vu and into entirely new territory. You could do this sort of mission in your sleep, and at this point, you kind of think you already have.
The scene is simple. Someone has attacked New York, and someone must save the city. This time, it’s not aliens or HYDRA knocking down your door but a new kind of inhuman with a bone to pick. At this rate, you get them so frequently that it’s like a regularly scheduled TV broadcast. Have you caught up on the latest season of unhappy mutants? Nah, I’m still three weeks backlogged on super powered individuals who hate us all.
A voice crackles into your earpiece, and you have to blink hard to get yourself to focus again. A lab tech company stole the blood samples of someone with powers in an attempt to understand more about what makes inhumans so utterly not human. The victim, your criminal of the week, is using his fire powers to burn down the company’s headquarters to prove that they’ll never be able to control him.
See, you’re supposed to be out here stopping the guy, but you kind of see his point. You were a lab experiment yourself a while back, and the results gave you powers and a chance to join the Avengers. Your time as a HYDRA science experiment was the worst experience of your life– agony and horror galore, to say the least– and if this guy’s standing up for the rights of the inhumans to avoid laboratories with a little too keen an interest in your inner workings, you don’t really want to kill him for his troubles.
That’s not the Avengers way, though. You weren’t hired for your thoughts on the rights of inhumans, especially those who suffered in the name of scientific progress, you’re here to save the city and the world and the universe, usually all three at once.
Hence the reason Captain America is chastising you to get your head in the game. This isn’t a time for sightseeing, it’s your chance to protect the innocents as the fire spreads. Thanks to the human-sized hawk wings that have been yours ever since your lab days, you’re in charge of the aerial defense of the Avengers, a role they need you for right now.
Today, you’re not a girl, you’re the Hawk, and you have a job to do. Tony Stark was responsible for your induction into the Avengers, as well as that very obvious alias. He’s also desperate for backup from the sky, especially right now.
You sigh, bid your morals a temporary adieu, and soar down from your vantage point in the clouds. The inhuman isn’t expecting another attacker from above, especially not one moving as fast as you. You tuck your wings into your sides for additional velocity, and slam into him hard enough to knock him to the ground. 
Seizing the opportunity of his distraction, Natasha quickly fires electric charges into his chest, knocking the guy out for a few seconds. From there, it’s easy to get some cuffs on the inhuman and shove him into the reinforced mobile holding cell S.H.I.E.L.D. sent over for precisely that purpose.
Steve nods at you. “Thanks for the help, Y/N.”
You smile wearily. “Any time.”
It’s easier to appreciate the Avengers lifestyle now, basking in the glow of having played a pivotal role in keeping the city safe. It’s a little more difficult hours later, when the sun has already set but you’re still trapped in the Avengers complex for a debrief that just won’t end.
It’s not the Avengers’ fault, you know that. S.H.I.E.L.D. has its protocols, and they get a little antsy if they aren’t followed. Still, you can’t help it when your mind starts wandering. You’ve attended enough meetings on the proper rules to be followed when your life is on the line and they all blur together.
You tune back in when Steve says your name. They’re discussing you now, apparently, and the words being said aren’t all compliments.
Steve sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Y/N, can you please try to focus for five minutes?”
You grimace. “Sorry, sorry. What were we talking about, exactly?”
Natasha arches a brow. “This, to be honest. You’re not as engaged with the fights as you used to be.”
You wince. “Can you blame me? I’ve been at this for years, Nat, ever since you guys broke me out of the HYDRA labs. I never went to S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy, I’ve never been a spy. I’m just doing my best out here.”
Bruce raises his hands placatingly. “We know that, kid, and we’re proud of you. We just need to be sure that you’re one hundred percent on top of things whenever you’re out in the field, for your safety as well as ours.”
You nod. “I’ll try to be better. Sorry.”
Tony frees you at last from the shame of everyone’s disapproving stares. “Look, cut the girl a break. She did well out there, and no one got hurt. If something happens, we can discuss this more seriously, but why punish her for an incident that hasn’t happened yet? Y/N, I know it’s getting late. You can go if you want.”
You jump on that chance and thank him, hurrying out of the room just in time to hear Steve chastising Tony for letting you go as the door closes behind you. You’re not sticking around to be called back. You have no interest in hearing a repeat of the same lecture.
In all honesty, they’re not entirely wrong. You do need to get your head in order. It’s just been difficult to focus on anything, really. Everything feels the same, and why care about any job if a similar mission is going to take place the next week, and the next week, and the next? They all end the same way, and they’re always going to.
You poke your head out of a balcony and, spreading your wings to take flight, soar up to the roof. Everything seems simpler up here. Why stress about the city when it’s nothing more than a thousand pinpricks of light?
You coast on the night breeze for a while before coming to a stop on a neighboring skyscraper. It’s nice to finally be alone, or so you think until a voice sounds from behind you.
“Sorry, is this roof taken?”
You glance behind you to see a figure emerging from the shadows. After a heartbeat, you realize you recognize the red mask, the scarlet and blue suit, the black arachnid logo on the center of the stranger’s chest. This is the Spider-Man you’ve been hearing about in the news lately. He’s saving the city, but doing it his own way, not caught up in the politics of being an Avenger.
Truth be told, you admire him for it. It must be nice to save people without the lecture that always follows you. He doesn’t have to be perfect, he just has to get the job done. What a life to lead.
You shake your head, gesturing beside you. “Not for you. What’s up, Spider-Boy?”
He chuckles as he sits down next to you. “Normally, I’d insist on being referred to as a man, but I’ll let it slide just this once. I’m pretty alright, what about you? I saw you were saving the city again earlier today. I would have joined in, but–”
You shake your head, dismissing his apology. “No need. The Avengers tend to swarm all over things, no need to involve yourself in their mess.”
Spider-Man glances your way, and when he speaks again, his voice is curious. “I take it you’re not on the best of terms with them at the moment?”
You sigh. “Just for now. They’re the only family I’ve ever known, so we get along most of the time. We’ve just been in a rough patch at the moment. I don’t really know why.”
Spider-Man lifts a shoulder. “Well, you said they’re like your family, right? The fights don’t surprise me. All families struggle to get along all the time. I’m sure it’ll blow over in a few days.”
You chuckle. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“I should hope so,” Spider-Man informs you, “I’m kind of the world’s leading expert on superpowered family relationships. I got a college degree in, uh, Avenging Therapy.”
This time, your laugh is easy, carefree. “Well, Mr. Inhuman Therapist, I’d love a little more advice. I’m Y/N, by the way.”
He reaches out a hand to shake yours. “I’m Peter. It’s lovely to meet you, Y/N.”
Lovely, as it turns out, is exactly the right word to use. The two of you talk well into the night, and you find yourself more than reluctant to leave him, even as the call to sleep grows stronger. Luckily, you end up crossing paths again soon, and then accidental meetings happen on purpose, more and more often until you know the face under the mask just as well as you know the so-called vigilante plastered across the newspaper pages.
It’s just nice to have Peter around, that’s all. He reminds you that there’s a life worth living outside of every fight. It takes you a while to realize that he’s the only friend you’ve ever wanted as more than just a friend, the one you like, the one you love, but after that– well, it feels impossible that you could have ever known anything else.
You’re on a similar rooftop one night a few months later when you learn that he feels the same way about you. You were a little late to your usual meetup spot thanks to yet another meeting with the Avengers, but instead of complaining, Peter beams at you and says,
“There she is! The angel of New York City has arrived.”
You laugh. It’s easy, around him. “That’s ridiculous. I’m nobody’s angel.”
The thought is absurd. You have been a lab rat, a soldier, and a civilian, all in turn. These are all roles that you have played, but none of them have ever been truly yours. Never, though, has an angel ever been among their ranks.
Still, Peter seems to believe it. His eyes gleam with certainty. “You’re mine.”
You almost choke on your own incredulity. “You’re joking. Me, an angel? There are at least a dozen S.H.I.E.L.D. files that would argue the opposite.”
“I’m not joking,” Peter hums. “You can’t deny your angel-hood, Y/N. I’ve already given it to you.”
“I’m giving it back,” you tell him. “Find someone who’s actually a good person.”
“I have,” he asserts. “I just don’t get why you can’t see that. It’s fairly obvious to me.”
You tilt your head to the side. “And why is that?”
“Oh, ‘cause I love you, of course,” Peter says, as easily as if he’s stating a simple, well known fact. Your face must have given away your surprise, because he glances over at you again. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah,” you manage to stutter out, “It’s just, well, I love you too.”
“I know,” he grins, tilting his head up to the night stars.
After that, it gets better, impossibly. As your boyfriend, Peter is in your life even more than before. Sometimes that involves him stopping by your apartment to bring you flowers. Other times, it means he’s willing to help out with the Avengers so long as they don’t ask questions like who he is and why he’s had an abrupt change of heart about wanting to fight with them.
Usually, you don’t want to call him in. The Avengers can be a hassle, which you’ve learned after years of being one of their number. However, when the fights get to be a little out of hand, a little text to your boyfriend means you’ll have another soldier on your side swinging over in five minutes flat, and that’s more welcome than you can even begin to describe.
Even on days like today, when he stops by to take out some robbers who somehow got their hands on alien tech, you couldn’t be happier to see him. The other Avengers are there, and you probably would have got the job done by yourselves, but it would have taken far more time and cost far more blood. Thankfully, you’ve got Spider-Man on dial, and you can solve problems like superpowered thieves in half the time.
You smile at him as he swings up beside you. He’s still got his mask on, of course, but you can sense his smile even despite the fabric in between you. “Thanks for the helping hand, Spider-Man.”
He laughs. “Any time, Angel. You know that.”
Across the street, the Avengers glance up from the robbers they’d been investigating. Tony frowns. “What was that?”
Peter freezes in place. “What was what?”
Tony quickly points his finger between the two of you. “You just called her something. Angel. What was that about?”
Peter lifts a shoulder in his best imitation of a shrug. “A, uh, new callname? Hawk is too obvious.”
Tony narrows his eyes. “And Angel isn’t?”
Peter raises his hands palm up in a universal gesture of helplessness. “I thought it was more interesting, at least.”
Tony doesn’t seem ready to let him off the hook just yet. “And that’s all it is? Just a codename, not anything else?”
Peter’s voice is as smooth as he can make it. “What else could it be, sir?”
You nod, the picture of innocence. “Yeah, Tony, what else could it possibly be?”
Tony stares at both of you, but he can’t find any evidence of wrongdoing. “It had better be. You wouldn’t believe how fast I can squash a spider if need be.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Peter says weakly, and starts hurrying away the second Tony turns his back.
You follow him, giggling to yourself. “Nice save there, bug boy.”
Peter groans. “If I wake up in the middle of the night to find that he’s launched an Iron Army or something to kill me as punishment for dating his adoptive superhero child, it’s totally your fault.”
You pretend to be outraged. “No, it’s not! You’re the one who called me that in the first place, remember? The blame’s all yours.”
Peter reaches an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. “Maybe you shouldn’t be as charming, Y/N. Then I wouldn’t have any problems properly addressing you as a coworker.”
You laugh. “My charm is irresistible, Pete. Give up now.”
“I already have,” he assures you. Such a flirt. You’ve never minded it, though, and you don’t intend to start now.
Sometimes, this city feels as if it was designed to stress you out. As an Avenger, you’ll never have an end to the missions, nor the civilians to save. There will always be one more job in which you could risk your life, and the memories of your time spent in Hydra’s labs won’t let you go anytime soon.
For now, though, the shadows under the skyscrapers seem a little less dark than before, and the faces peering out of apartment windows at you aren’t hostile or threatening but friendly. This is your city, the one you save with your boyfriend. How could it ever be anything but good to you?
requested by @thornyrose463, i hope you enjoy!
marvel tag list: @namoreno, @mayfieldss, @rogueanschel, @mycosmicparadise, @ellobruv, @with-inked-solace, @callsign-scully, @sher-lokid7, @eclliipsed, @23victoria, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @gods-fools-heroes, @w1shes43, @deafsuperhero, @fadedver, @alex-1967s-blog, @crazyhearttragedy
all tags list: @wordsarelife
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ruewrote · 1 year
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𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑑𝑎𝑦.
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PAIRING: tasm!peterparker x fem!reader WARNINGS: none GENRE: angst and alot of fluff SONG INSPIRATION: gone, gone, gone by phillip phillips WORD COUNT: 478
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your head was buried in your book, trying to figure out how to solve this maths problem when the front door slammed shut.
you turned around knowing who it was, giving him a smile as he walked through your bedroom door — he leant over, giving you a soft peck. before quickly pulling away. making his way over to your shared bathroom with slumped shoulders.
your smile soon turned into a frown, there wasn’t many days like this with peter, but of course he had his bad days — like everybody else did, but c’mon especially spiderman does.
it was an unspoken rule with the two of you that he would always come in and greet you with a soft kiss and an ‘i love you’, or vice versa if you had gotten home a bit later that day. no matter the circumstance.
following his footsteps, you made your way into the bathroom, pete was stood leaning over the sink, hand on either side of it with his head bowed down.
without a word you walked up behind him, gently wrapping your arms around his torso — head on his back, he stiffened, but soon melted into your touch, letting you hold him.
feeling his back start to shake as he cried in your embrace, you stood like that for a good couple of minutes then you turned him around to face you, wiping the tears that had once streamed down his face.
you couldn’t imagine how he must be feeling, carrying the weight of the entire city on his shoulders — worried of letting anybody down in the slightest.
sadly smiling up at him with knowing eyes, you made your way over to the shower. not letting go over his arm as you switched it over to the perfect temperature.
stripping yourself of your clothing, before helping peter with his, of course he could do it on his own, but it’s what the two of you did, looked after each other.
once the two of you had gotten into the running stream of warm water, you let peter go under first, the steam keeping you from getting cold. watching as the droplets run down his bruised body, him letting out a deep sigh of relief.
grabbing the loafer and some soap, you began lightly cleaning peter, starting at his shoulders and working your way down, as you whispered sweet nothings into his ear.
after you were both cleaned off, you got into some clean clothes before bundling up in bed with a random superhero movie in the background, cuddled up together.
just taking in each other’s presence, light jokes and kisses were shared.
until pete got really close to you, close enough that you could feel his breath lightly fanning your face.
“i really don’t know what i’d do if i didn’t have you in my life.”
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© ruewrote.
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