#spider man itsv fic

[cockdestroyer32]

it's rotten work.

peter b. parker x fem!reader

word count: 2615

summary: Peter's been a wreck after his divorce with MJ. Thankfully, you're there to look after him.

aka me just fantasizing about taking care of peter b. parker when he needed it and giving him the love he so very deserves.

a/n: yeah I write abt this loser now

Two months. That’s how long it’s been since Peter and MJ’s divorce. Two months of countless pizza orders and late-night fast food trips. You tried your best, of course, most days making lunch and dinner for Peter, but it still wouldn’t help his insurmountable need to shove oily fries drenched in high amounts of salt down his throat. Though he would gladly take them. His hand finding yours on the table, giving you a knowing look with his sad, tired eyes that you’d gotten used to seeing so damn often on him. His own way of a thank you. Two months of coming home to Peter’s place to find him sprawled out on his couch, his head lying on his own arm and still wearing shoes. The TV would be on playing the most random channel. He’d be staring at it, but if you turned it off he wouldn’t even blink. Two months of trying your best to be there for him.

You were still getting used to the new apartment. For as long as you could remember, Peter and MJ lived in the same house for the past 15 years. You’d gotten used to it. It was nice. Two stories, wooden floors, big dining room. They’d have Thanksgivings there, it was almost a tradition. The turkey was served and everyone gathered around, talking and laughing about nothing. Peter was happy then, at least most of the time.

This apartment was none of that. It was way smaller, one small cube covering kitchen, living room and bedroom, with a room to the left including the tiny bathroom- which has a bathtub? You never quite understood that, what is it with Americans and putting bathtubs in their already tiny bathrooms?- not to mention it was unkept. The dishes practically overflowing, two pizza boxes, one awkwardly thrown to the counter, not even closed, its gaping mouth allowing you to spy the damp spots the hot pizza left on the cardboard box, and the other shoved inside the trash, which was also nearly overflowing. A barely-eaten cereal bowl rested on the sad excuse of a dining table, some colorful circles creeping out of the white liquid. It was more milk than cereal. And both ingredients also stood there, not put back on their respective places. 

Peter does not have enough money to just waste perfectly good milk. 

You grab the carton and open the refrigerator, the light illuminating the kitchen/living room/bedroom area. God, even the refrigerator was sad. An already open can of soda standing lonely to the side, feeling unsafe on the grids of the shelf, a container of cheese at the top, four eggs to the side, and untouched lettuce to the middle. You place the milk inside, now making company to the lonely soda, and shut the refrigerator door, making your way back to the couch. As you do you pass by the wall of the apartment that includes Peter’s attempt at decorating, one only possible after much pleading by you that the place might feel more like home if he did so. 

They were pictures. Pictures on the wall. Four to be specific. All taped to the wall with double-sided tape. They were all scattered like corn and asymmetrical. How and why did he manage to do that? You don’t know. Was it awful? Yes. 

But you were still excited when you’d shown up to his place and found them there. 

This was only a fraction of the pictures he had back in his place with MJ. Their old living room had once been full of pictures of them and the memories they made together. But these were the ones he took and remained. The middle picture was one of you and Peter, back when you traveled to Barbados. You stood behind him, hugging him with one arm from behind, your chin resting on his shoulder as you both smiled at the camera. The one to the side was a picture he took of you on your birthday, you wore one of those birthday headbands, a huge smile spreading across your face as you saw one of your other friends bringing you your cake. It was slightly blurry, not one you’d usually have on your wall but beautiful regardless. When you’d seen that picture, your finger reached out to touch it, surprised it was there, and you turned around to look at Peter, who refused to look at you, clearly embarrassed. The third one is a picture of May, 2 years before she died, her grey hair perfectly framing her smiling face, and the fourth one of Peter and May, sitting on her couch, his arm wrapped around her shoulder and his head on hers.

Peter sits on the couch, his ankles extended out, looking like he wanted to trip someone. He wore the same grey sweatpants he always wore, and his sweatshirt was stained. The bags under his eyes were prominent, and his eyebrows were furrowed. His gaze was fixated on the TV, but he actually seemed to be paying attention this time, so that’s progress…right?

You threw your body on the couch beside his, letting out a sigh and looking at the screen. He was watching a documentary on…pandas? You don’t comment on it. Or on his stained shirt. Or on the cereal bowl. Or on the milk. You just stare at the TV.

“I’m fine,” He says, his voice raspy.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

You don’t reply. He’s used to you asking the same question, and you’re used to hearing the same answer. You both know he’s not fine, that he hasn’t been fine in a while, but that there’s not much you can do but let time pass, to let the wound heal as best as it can, leaving only a scar, that at least won’t sting as much anymore. You know Peter. You’ve known him for years. You know his moods, you know what makes him laugh, what makes him angry, his mannerisms and what they mean, his favorite foods, his favorite flavor of cake…you know when he needs love. 

Except for on days like this. On days where he’s grumpy and barely speaks at all. Days where his arms are crossed and he’s always tapping his foot. Sometimes he just wants to be left alone, sometimes he wants as much physical affection as possible. You don’t know. 

So, you leave a hint.

You place your hand next to his on the couch- they have always been so rough, so calloused, yet always felt nice- and you lift your pinky, it grazing across the back of his hand. Up, and down. You do that once before stopping it at the bottom of his hand, just next to his pinky. If he wants to take it, he can take it, if not, he doesn’t have do anything. 

You feel the back of his hand being taken away from the tip of your finger, before his palm finds yours and he entwines your fingers together, giving your hand a light squeeze. Yours is smaller than his, and certainly softer. You don’t look at each other, you don’t have to. You keep your eyes on the panda eating bamboo and feel his thumb caress the side of your hand. 

If that wasn’t clear, it’s been a rough two months. And you’ve been there for rough months. You were there for when Peter and MJ would have tough arguments, for when being Spider-Man started being just a little too much for him, for when he couldn’t save everyone, for when Aunt May died. But this? This was bad. Almost as much as May’s death. He just…fell into a hole. And you don’t blame him either. He’d been married to Mary Jane for fifteen years. Fifteen years. Having to separate from someone you spent more than a decade with must be one of the hardest things ever, and you couldn’t exactly say you understood.

It wasn’t all bad though. One time, you decided to watch a movie together. You let Peter choose the movie. Horror. You were never quite used to it, but were you gonna say no to him? No, and he knew it. About 40 minutes in, there was a scene where the main character was inspecting his house after having heard a strange noise. He walks around for a while, letting the tension build until suddenly the monster rises behind him. It’d been about 11pm at that point and you let out a loud yelp, followed by your hand slapping over your mouth as you realize what you did. You did a slow turn towards Peter, finding his eyebrows raised and his mouth slightly agape, before he burst out into laughter. The sound rang through your ears like your favorite song. God, it’d been so long since you heard that laugh. If you knew it’d happen you’d grabbed your phone and started recording it immediately. But at that point it’d been enough, and you couldn’t help but start laughing too.

Now, you feel Peter’s grip slowly loosening on yours and you turn your head towards him. His eyes are closed, and his eyebrows are more relaxed now, though he’s not asleep just yet. From this angle you could perfectly see his roman nose, the bridge sticking out in all of its wonder, and the little bend to the side, where he’d broken it so many times his healing factors had just given up. He hated it. You always loved it, and he knew it. You leaned in slightly.

“Pete…” You whisper, “Pete, let’s get you to bed.”

He murmured some nonsense. A chuckle leaves your lips and you reach for his arm.

“Pete, if you wanna sleep we gotta get you to bed, come on.”

“O…kay…” You get up from the couch and place both hands on his arms, motioning for him to get up. When he does he rests his head on yours, and you drape your arm over his shoulder, leading him to his bed. He drops his body on it and oh he looks adorable. His arms curved in front of him almost in a praying motion, and his knees slightly bent. You notice his shoes are still on and reach to take them off, he doesn’t even move as you do so, and you set them down neatly on the floor. You know what’s next, you’ve gotten used to it: you crawl on the bed beside him, and wrap an arm around him from behind, the other creeping from under his body so you can hug him properly. You bury your face on his shoulder and squeeze him tight, your legs lying just behind his. 

Peter likes being the little spoon. You wonder if he’s always been like this or if it was born out of an extreme need to receive the physical affection he lost after his divorce. Those thoughts are quickly brushed off but everlasting, you probably shouldn’t be thinking about that. This happens every night now, to the point Peter doesn’t sleep without you anymore. If you take too long to crawl into bed, he tells you in a groggy voice, “Come hereeeee…”

One time you got up in the middle of the night to drink some water, and in comes Peter, wearing his grey pajama shirt, rubbing his eyes as he sleepily asks you, “Why'd you go?”

The first time you fell asleep cuddled together was a little over a month ago. Peter’d been quiet that entire day and you left him alone, figuring he just wanted time for his thoughts, until eventually you lifted a gentle hand, resting it against his shoulder as you asked, “You alright? Wanna talk?” And a few minutes later you found yourself holding a sobbing Peter, his hands desperately clutching to your back as you rubbed his, his face pressed against your chest as his own heaved. Wet trailings ran down your body and made your shirt damp, trailings that’d grow salty and sticky on your skin, but that’d you pay no attention to. 

You don’t even know how long that lasted, you just held him for as long as he needed, until his weeping subsided and the sobs were replaced only by the shuddering breaths one gets after crying so desperately. Then even those went away, Peter’s breath completely evened out and calm. You noticed he was heavier in your arms, and whispered his name as you leaned your head down, looking for his face, only to be met with one of a sleeping Peter. His lashes were wet and eyes were shut and relaxed, as if he hadn’t just had a full breakdown in your arms. You stayed like this for a moment, wondering if he’d wake up, and knowing you didn’t have the heart to do it. Eventually you leaned back on the couch, your back resting against it as your head was placed awkwardly on its stiff arm. He slid down on your body a bit as you did, his face now at your stomach, and he tightened his grip and pressed his nose into your skin. You still don’t know if he remembered he did that.

And now Peter has you climbing into bed beside him every night, trying your best to envelop his body with yours even though your frame is much tinier.

You turn your head to him as you feel him shift and take a breath.

“I wanna…be big spoon…” You can barely make out the words due to his raspy mumbling, and before you could even process them, Peter was turning around and grabbing your arm, flipping you on your side as he wrapped his arms tightly around you. Tight as if to ensure you wouldn’t try to escape his grip.

Woah. Is this what MJ felt every night when she was with Peter? Again, probably not something you should be thinking about, but still. This? This comfortable? 

If you were MJ you would have never given up on this. Ever. No matter what.

God, he’s strong. I mean, you knew he was strong, he’s Spider-Man for crying out loud. But you’d never thought about how that came into play in moments like this, where he could wrap his arms around you with such a firm yet tender grip that it felt like absolutely nothing could tear you two apart.

Though you were still quite a bit frozen. Peter had never done that before. This was new and sudden. And slowly you could feel that information seep back into Peter’s presumably more awake mind as well, with the way he turned his head slowly to the left, and his body straightened and stiffened on your back.

“Uhh, is this okay?” He asked.

“Yeah, it’s alright,” You replied. He was probably awake right now, mortified by his own actions but too comfortable and scared to pull away. And so were you. So you placed your hand on his arm, and gently ran it back and forth, telling him you really were okay with this, and if anything you wanted him to keep it up. His body remained frozen for at least 3 seconds until he lifted his arm from under your hand, and placed his palm over it, enlacing your fingers together. He pressed your arm in the front of your body and buried his nose in your neck. It sent a few shivers down your spine, you won’t lie. But you just took a deep breath and toughed it out, closing your eyes as well and relaxing. His breath on your neck slowly lulled you to sleep.

Hopefully, this is your new night routine.

#peter b parker #peter b. parker #peter b parker x reader #peter b parker x you #peter b parker x y/n #into the spider verse #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman #spider man into the spider verse #spider man itsv fic #spider man x reader

[spiderpussinc]

A little theme park scribble 🎠

Part of my latest fic chapter (+18)

#spiderdads #petermiguel #miguel o'hara #peter b parker #peter parker #miguel ohara #spiderverse #atsv #itsv #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spider verse fanart #my spider stuff #fanfic #my fic #marvel #marvel comics

[ovaryacted]

Insoportable

Summary: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader. Miguel couldn’t stand you, the more you refused to listen to him and his orders, the closer he got to snapping. After another failed mission, he’s had enough, and takes it upon himself to put you in your place.

Warnings: 18+/MDNI. NSFW. Porn with plot. Dom/sub elements, throat/face fucking, degradation & praise, slight size kink, slight choking, rough sex, bare backing, mention of fluids.

WC: 5.2k

A/N: Took me a while to write this but I hope it’s enjoyable. Originally was an enemies to lovers plot but it’s more of a passionate stress relief type thing, I’ll do actual enemies to lovers/hate sex another time. For the record, I speak Spanish, so the Spanish you see in this piece is how I’d personally speak. Title is also in Spanish lolz. :)

You were insufferable, a nuisance every time you walked in the room or were in close proximity to Miguel. A firecracker that hated following orders or being told what to do. He didn’t even know how you managed to last this long as a spider-person or why you were chosen to become one since you behaved so recklessly. In his mind, you were a hazard to have on his elite strike force, but Jess was the one that convinced him you would be a good addition to the team. That was a few months ago, and he continues to figure out whether or not having you around was a good or bad thing. So far, it was definitely leaning towards bad.

You never listened to him, often going off on your own on missions or making small mistakes that would throw him off. It was almost as if you enjoyed seeing him upset, making it harder to tolerate you and leading to more arguments. The constant bickering and fighting was a daily occurrence, a game of pull and push to see who would make the other crack, and usually, it was you pushing Miguel to his limits.

This was how your relationship was, if he can even say you guys had one, and he still remembers how your eyes gleamed with mischief when you were introduced to the Spider Society. At first glance, he comes off as intimidating, even scary with his size and demeanor alone. But with you? It was the complete opposite, like your ego was as big as him and then some. He couldn’t understand why you didn’t take him seriously.

Of course, today was no different.

“This isn’t how we organized this!”, Miguel yelled at you from the other side of the street, climbing up one of the buildings to catch up to your rapid swinging.

Currently, you were tracking down a lizard variant that Miguel had ordered you to capture and bring back to HQ. It was intended to be a solo mission, but instead of listening to him the first time around, you brought your newest friend Hobie to keep you company. As if the brunette’s stress couldn’t get any worse, seeing you two together creating havoc across the multiverse blew his blood pressure through the roof. The second you joined his team, you and Hobie instantly clicked, becoming almost inseparable when you met each other. Two rebels, two people who hated authority were brought together by fate. If Hobie’s anarchist tendencies were bad then, they’re worse now, and it only wore poor Miguel out knowing that headache number one found its match.

The variant from Earth-374 was tracked down in the sewer system, both you and your favorite rockstar managing to slow it down and trap it in one of the underground tunnels using your webbing. In celebration, you stopped by to get hot dogs, feeling you deserved a break and cheering at a job well done. Excitedly, you reported back to Miguel of your successful capture, hoping that maybe for once, he wouldn’t look at you with such dismay. Only when it was time for him to come to retrieve the anomaly, he was dumbfounded to see traces of webbing and no lizard. It escaped right under your grasp, your clumsy mistake of not securing them properly and forgetting to set up the sensors caused this to happen. You could practically see the tick in Miguel’s jaw as he all but looked at you in vexation.

Now you were attempting to amend your mistake with Miguel and Hobie alongside you, chasing the creature down through the streets of an alternate New York City. Despite both of them being there to help you, you still managed to go off on your own.

“I almost have it! Just let me get this!”, you called back to Miguel, distancing yourself from the other two as you launched your body towards the reptile underneath you. Miguel constantly called you out on this, how you always put yourself in danger instead of actively trying to get away from it. Your spider-senses were the same as everyone else’s, yet you behaved as if you didn’t use them half of the time, enjoying the thrill of being put in such precarious situations.

Hobie followed your lead while Miguel continued to grumble under his breath. You landed on the lizard’s back, shooting your webs to cover their eyes and blind them momentarily. They thrashed around the bustling streets, scaly skin rough against your feet and sharp claws reaching out to grab you.

A backflip here, another dodge and curve of your body there, you landed on top of the lizard’s head. They snarled when you shot another array of webs at their jaw, creating a makeshift lead and pulling upwards. In the mayhem of the chase, Miguel shot his own red webbing at its feet, yanking backwards and watching the mutated reptile slam into the concrete face first. Hobie mimicked the larger man’s actions, the both of them working in tandem to bring the lizard down to the ground and secure it thoroughly. You busied yourself with webbing its mouth shut, taking extra care to ensure you wouldn’t repeat your initial mistake.

Even if this was considered a personal redemption, you didn’t have the time to recover your breath before Miguel was on you again, his tone harsh and condescending.

“Do you have any idea what the hell you just did? How many times do I have to tell you to do things the way I say?!”, Miguel spat out, scolding you as if you were a child that lacked common sense.

“We still caught them no? The damage isn’t so bad”, you said stubbornly, putting your hands on your hips and looking up at Miguel defensively. From the way the outline of the eyes on his mask curved downward, you could tell he was irked. Perhaps this was his last straw with you.

“You destroyed half of the damn city! Are you really this stupid and hasty?”, he said almost exasperatingly. No matter how hard you tried to talk to him, Miguel never listened. He always wanted things done his way, and he just couldn’t stand the fact that you never saw him through.

“I wouldn’t be this hasty if you would just get off my back! You’re always so uptight!”

“This conversation isn’t over, you hear me?”, he hovered above you, not wanting to prolong this argument any longer. Messing with the buttons on his watch and opening a portal back to H.Q., he entrapped the lizard variant and threw them through the bright colors of the interdimensional opening. He took one last glance at you before walking through, leaving you and Hobie behind as you sighed and looked down at your feet.

“I messed up, didn’t I?”, you asked Hobie, who started walking towards the portal with you close behind.

“Nah, it’s not that bad. The big man will get over it”, he said with a shrug, tone of voice slightly teasing and doing nothing to calm your nerves.

You only silently hoped that Hobie was right.

-

Miguel exhaled with his fingers pressed against the bridge of his nose, breathing through his nostrils as he tried to regain some peace of mind. After today’s fiasco of a mission, he called you and Hobie back to his lab to discuss it. Whether it was just to talk or simply yell at you again for your failure, you were about to find out.

“Miguelito, you’re going to pop a vein at this rate with the way you’re stressing out,” you teased, looking over at the very agitated Spider-Man.

Oh, he hated that. He loathed how easily the nickname slipped past your lips whenever you antagonized him. You always found more ways to get under his thick skin, and this was one of the things you did from your long list that seemed to upset him the most.

“Dios dame paciencia”, Miguel muttered under his breath, huffing and puffing as he paced around.

“I lied before, he’s definitely pissed at you now”, Hobie said next to you, smugly glancing between you and your mutual boss from the corner of his eye.

“It’s not so bad, I swear”, you put your hands up in fake innocence, and Miguel just chuckled dryly under his breath.

“You’re joking right? You let the anomaly go because you weren’t paying attention, and I have to clean up after your mistakes, again”, Miguel turned his back to face you, red eyes looking at you fiercely.

“Okay, I may have done that, but we caught them right after. What’s the big deal?”, you said, shrugging, which only seemed to tick Miguel off more, feeling his shoulders tense and his left eye beginning to twitch.

“And that’s my cue to leave. Good luck, mate”, Hobie says, saluting you and leaving you to face Miguel’s wrath alone.

“What’s the big deal? You just don’t get it, do you? You’re always so careless, you never listen to me, and then you act oblivious when you mess up. How the hell are you even a spider-person?”, Miguel retorted, stepping closer to you as an act of intimidation, but it didn’t affect you much. You held your ground while he walked forward until he stood right in front of you, looking down as if you were merely a pest.

“I still do my job, don’t I? You’re stressing out over nothing, and you don’t have to be breathing down my neck all the time if you’d just let me do my own thing. The multiverse is still safe Miguelito, lighten up!”

“Stop fucking calling me that! God, you annoy the shit out of me I can’t stand you.”

“I’m aware of that, you remind me every day!”, you countered defiantly, and Miguel was on the brink of losing his last nerve.

“Coño, for once, will you just shut the fuck up!”, he yelled now, reaching an arm out to wrap his hand around your throat, holding you in place instinctively as you gasped.

He wasn’t choking you, his fingers not daring to tighten around your neck but acting as a placeholder. He bent down the slightest bit, whispering in your ear with a tone of voice that was borderline threatening.

“You’re a pain in my ass, an ungrateful brat, and I don’t know if you get on my nerves on purpose, but you’re going to learn to stop fucking with me like a plaything. ¿Entiendes?”, Miguel snarled, his lips grazing the outer shell of your ear. This you weren’t expecting, your mind short-circuiting as your breath hitched at his words.

Miguel pulled away, his hands still around your neck while he stared down at you. He was taking in your reaction, watching how your breathing increased, your eyes were filled with a curiosity he hadn’t seen from you, and he could practically feel your pulse pounding against his thumb that pressed into your skin.

He was trying to figure out the sudden change in your demeanor, half expecting you to say some sassy remark back to him, but nothing came out of your mouth. If anything, you seemed to like this.

“Ah, so that’s what it is? You’re a brat on purpose?”, he smirked then, finding your sudden silence amusing. “You think you’re hot shit, acting all defiant around me when in reality, you need to be put in your place.”

Your cheeks blushed, both confused and aroused at the sudden change in the dynamic between you two. Have you thought about Miguel like this? Sure, once or twice. But the big scary Spider-Man was a tough nut to crack, so instead, you compromised for teasing. There was no way he would act out on those very sudden desires, right? Right?

Oh how wrong you were.

“You put up a show all the time when you just want some attention. Ain’t that right, muñeca?”, Miguel said, leaning his face closer to yours so the tips of your noses barely touched. He was teasing you, playing with the idea of giving you something you didn’t even know you would crave. His grip tightened around your neck the slightest bit, bringing your attention back to him when he spoke again, “I asked you a question, answer me.”

“Y-Yes”, you stuttered, the neurons in your brain working just enough to formulate one word. At this rate, you could feel your body warming up with how Miguel spoke to you. It felt taboo to be in this situation right now, but some part of you wanted to indulge in this small fantasy.

“Hmmm, maybe I’ll remind you where you belong so you can stop acting out. You want that?”, Miguel’s voice was playful now, noticing how your blush intensified the closer he leaned down. One of his hands reached for your hip, bringing you closer to him while the other stayed on your neck, your jaw tilting up towards him. It was an invitation, a calling for a kiss, or whatever else he may have in mind.

“Fuck, yes”, you found yourself saying a bit too quickly, your brain telling you to just shut up and listen to him for once, to relieve whatever tension the both of you have developed for so long. Miguel took one last look into your eyes before he closed the distance between you two, his mouth meeting yours with force.

Your lips meddled together in a flurry of need, a mess of tongue and teeth as you both forgone all sense of professionalism. These weren’t the lovely, soft kisses one would expect from someone they’d been pining after. They were possessive and dominating. Miguel’s grip on your hip tightened, pinning you to his body as you stood chest to chest. He practically loomed over you, needing to crane your neck up to kiss him properly. You moaned when his tongue slipped between your lips, grazing the roof of your mouth and curling around your own. The hand wrapped around your neck slipped from its grasp to cradle your jaw, stroking your cheek in a way that opposed the harsh kisses he gave you.

When Miguel pulled away for a breath, your face was slightly flushed with plush lips to match. His thumb caressed your bottom lip, pressing into it and looking at you with newfound desire. He sighed when your lips closed around it, sucking it into your mouth gently and tracing the bottom of his digit with your soft tongue.

“You just need something in your mouth to be good right?”, he smirked, pressing the pad of his thumb on the middle of your tongue as you hummed against him with a nod. The red in his eyes darkened, watching you stare at him in desire. Miguel chuckled, taking his thumb out of your mouth and stepping away from you slightly with a toothy grin on his face.

“Let’s see if you can do more with your mouth than just piss me off”, he grunted, his voice dropping an octave as he pushed you down to your knees in front of him. If you thought Miguel looked big before, he looked much larger in comparison now, the shadow of his body swallowing you whole.

You looked up at him needily, your attention diverting to the bulge hidden underneath his spider suit. Mouth watering at the sight, your eyes widened when part of his suit disappeared in pixelated bits, his hard cock bouncing towards your cheek. An unintentional gasp slipped out of you, biting your bottom lip and rubbing your thighs together as your lower gut bubbled in warmth. Now you know why Miguel acted the way he did, why he was so hard to handle at times. His words and size matched the rest of him, big and intense all around.

“Don’t be scared of it”, you heard Miguel say mockingly, bringing you out of your admiring trance. You could tell despite his dominating demeanor, he wanted to be touched, his cock almost pulsing in front of you.

“Who said I was scared?”, you taunted back, grinning when you saw the same annoyed look Miguel does that seemed reserved for just you.

“You want to prove me wrong? Go ahead then”, his hand went to your hair, grabbing it in his fist as he felt you caressing his tip in light kisses. He sighed when your lips moved under the base of his shaft, kissing the prominent veins that pulsated against your warm mouth. It took everything in him not to thrust into your face, but he knew what you were doing, playing with him even when he was the one in control.

Your breath hitched again when your head was yanked back, ogling him as you saw how pent up he was, how badly he wanted you.

“Don’t fucking tease me. Now open wide baby”, he muttered, putting both of his hands on your head to get any flyaway hairs out of your face. He wanted to burn this picture into his memory, taking in the view of you having his dick down your throat for the first time.

Slowly, your lips wrapped around his member, encasing him in your hot mouth as you relaxed your jaw to take more of him. You didn’t know if you would be able to take all of him at once, but you sure as hell were gonna try. Breathing in through your nose, you moved further down, feeling more of him resting against your tongue before deciding that was enough for now.

With a gentle tug of your hair, you pulled back, moving your head over him while one of your hands went to his thighs for support. Your other hand held him at the base, jerking the rest of his cock that couldn’t fit. He groaned shamelessly, letting you have a small bit of control as your tongue traced over the underside of his length. It felt good, better than he imagined, and he couldn’t help but close his eyes to immerse himself in the pleasure.

You hollowed your cheeks out, bobbing your head harder while taking more of him into your mouth. Tasting the saltiness of his precum against your tongue, you moaned around him, his fingers tightening around your head as you kept working over him, not caring for the slight tingling in your jaw.

“Knew you were good at this”, Miguel mumbled, his fangs digging into his bottom lip as he watched you. You looked almost precious to him, your hand growing slick with saliva along with the rest of him, your lips pinker than usual. He couldn’t help himself, grabbing the top of your head and thrusting towards your face.

You choked a bit at the action, the sudden intrusion forcing him all the way down the base of your throat until he pulled his hips back. He did it again, pushing your face against his pelvis until your nose rubbed into the soft brown curls against his skin.

“See how pretty you look when your mouth is shut? Just get your throat fucked like the slut you are, taking me so well”, he lost himself to the sensation of you deep-throating him, struggling to take all of him at once. But you tried, your hands on the top of his thighs as you happily let him fuck your face.

Tears started to gather on your lash line the more forceful Miguel got, an audible gagging sound filling the room every time he plunged deeper into you. Spit was coating your chin and cheek, his balls hitting your face with every drive of his hips. Blowing someone wasn’t new to you, but the way Miguel used you to get off intensified the burning heat in your gut. Hearing the sounds he made, feeling how he throbbed and twitched in your mouth, how his thighs slightly shook the closer he got to his climax. It was arousing seeing him like this, and you enjoyed it like it were your favorite movie.

“I want to cum down your throat, you gonna let me?”, Miguel asked, sweat starting to build up on his hairline as he looked down at you. Your eyes were hazy, pupils dilated and almost lost as they met his. He could feel your harsh breathing against him, the drool pooling in your mouth, and the vibration of a pleasurable hum as you answered him with enthusiasm.

“Mierda, swallow it all for me, I don’t want you to waste a drop”, he said hastily, thrusting up into you a few more times before he shuddered with a loud grunt. Miguel’s hips stayed flush with your face, tears dropping down your cheek as you choked around him and felt him cum down your throat. You clutched his thighs, breathing shakily and trying to remain calm to the best of your ability. He felt you constricting around him, taking everything he had to give while his fingers dug into your scalp.

With ease, Miguel pulled his hips back, watching you catch your breath. You moved your head up, opening your mouth to show him how you followed his directions, no traces of his release left behind. Not a single drop was wasted. For the first time since you’ve been in the same room with him, there was a smile on his face.

“I should give you a treat for being so good to me just now”, Miguel purred at you, bringing you back onto your feet and kissing you deeply. He could taste himself against your tongue, groaning into your mouth as he chased the flavor of his release. You clung to him, gasping when you felt a claw on your back tearing at your spider suit as he slipped it down your body, leaving you bare before him.

“Fucking hell Miguel”, you whined against him, the brisk air of his lab making your nipples hard, biting your lip when a rough thumb caressed a perked nub. He was handsy and impatient, lifting you up by the bottom of your thighs and bringing you to a spare desk on the other side of the room. You sat on the cool surface, legs instantly parting for Miguel as his hips pressed against yours.

With hungry lips, they wrapped around your other nipple, sucking lavishly and humming around it as his hands explored over you. His other free hand trailed down your stomach, gracing your bare hip and reaching towards your warmth. Your hands went to his brown hair, running through the strands and arching towards his touch as a thick, calloused thumb ran circles on your clit.

“You always get this wet when you have dick down your throat?”, he chuckled, releasing your nipple to kiss your neck, nipping the soft skin while he continued his rubbing. You couldn’t even answer him, throwing your head back to grant him more skin to touch and crying out when two of Miguel’s fingers slipped inside you.

The soft squelching that filled the room was almost embarrassing, feeling your arousal drip onto his skin with every plunge of his digits. You were already so wet and pent up from the earlier usage of your throat for Miguel’s pleasure, sending you that much closer to the edge. With a flick of his wrist, his fingers curled into the soft spot inside you, your thighs twitching under him and pulling another whimper out of you.

“Please, fuck please”, you gripped onto his bicep, grinding your hips against his hand to chase your own pleasure. Miguel’s sharp eyes observed you, watching every stutter you gave him and how your eyebrows creased the closer you got to your climax. He was mesmerized by your soaked heat, knuckles deep into you and hitting every sensitive spot he could find.

“So needy, fucking into my hand like a whore. You want to cum on my fingers muñeca?”, he said against your ear, biting on the lobe as you shook underneath him and weakly nodded. His thumb came back into the mix, rubbing fast circles on your clit that made you keen. You were dripping down his wrist, your hot walls fluttering around him and your nails leaving indents in his biceps from where you held on to him.

“Cum for me so I can fill your pussy up just right”

It didn’t take long for you to reach your peak, closing your eyes and mewling out Miguel’s name in the crook of his neck. He groaned at how tight you got, sucking his digits deeper into your body as you flexed around him with trembling legs. He didn’t stop moving his hand against you, making sure to milk your orgasm as much as he could. With a soft kiss to your lips, he pulled his touch away from your center, marveling at how your fluids glistened in the dim light of his lab. Staring at you lustfully, he slipped his fingers into his mouth, savoring your taste with a lewd sigh.

“I’ll get a better taste of you later, but for now let me fuck that defiant attitude out of you”, Miguel said, his hands going to your thighs and lifting them up. He put one of your legs on his shoulder, bending down closer to you as your back was resting on top of the desk. You could feel how hard he was for you again, grinding his length against your wetness, his tip bumping into your clit deliciously every time.

“Just fuck me, please Miguel”, you begged, clenching around nothing and feeling how badly you needed to be filled with something. You expected some sly comment from him, but he surprised you, positioning himself above your entrance and pushing forward.

“You’re so fucking tight. No wonder why you act the way you do”, he hissed at the way you throbbed around him. He didn’t stop moving until his body was flush with yours, reaching the deepest parts inside you and stretching you so deliciously you whined. It would be an exaggeration to say you felt him in your chest, but you swear you could.

A choked moan left your throat when he pulled his hips back to pound into you again, setting a rough pace from the start. The smell of sex started to fill the lab, Miguel’s face digging into your neck and biting the skin as he huffed under his breath. He leaned forward towards your body, your leg that he had on his shoulder bending towards your chest, making him slip deeper into you. You yelped at the action and fucked back into him, your hips meeting his with an audible slap.

Miguel was unrelenting, his hands digging into the plush skin of your thighs and hips as he looked down at where your bodies met. His pelvis rubbed into your clit with every stroke, tilting his hips the slightest bit to hit your g-spot every time he plowed into you. The annoyance he once felt towards you evaporated from his mind, now only focused on screwing you into the desk. It was a lot, he was a lot, but all you could do was be good and take what he gave you with no complaints, holding on to the edge of the desk so tightly your knuckles turned white. He was also silently thankful his lab was farther away from everything else, his ears taking in every delectable sound that came from your bruised lips unabashedly.

“You’re so loud. Do you want the entire HQ to hear how much of a slut you are? Letting your boss fuck you like this for being a brat”, he teased in your ear, feeling you clench around him as he increased the intensity of his thrusts against you. You liked the mix of his degrading and praise, common sense so far gone from your current mind that it left you stuck on cloud 9.

The sneaky hand on your hip moved down your body again, rubbing the pulsing nub as you rambled incoherently against him. He could feel you getting close, doing everything in his power to ruin you for any other person, if that were even an option. You didn’t have it in you to warn him of your impending release, your thighs shaking against his body. But he already knew, slamming harder into you to the point where the desk underneath you screeched against the floor. He was getting close too, his eyes trailing down your body and seeing the white ring at the base of his cock.

“You’re so close baby. Need you to cum around me so I can fill you up, let everyone know who’s fucking you so good”, Miguel grunted against your ear again, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders and clinging to his body. Your nails dug into his back, scratching down the firm planes of muscle and leaving angry red streaks in their wake. He shuddered at the touch, growling into your skin and biting at your shoulder.

Head thrown back in ecstasy, the tension in your gut snapped as you spasmed and wailed under him, the pleasure overwhelming you the second time around. Miguel held on to your hips to keep you from jerking against him, whispering praises into your ear and telling you how good you were, how good you felt squeezing around him. His pace grew sloppy, pumping into you a few more times before his release hit with a guttural moan. Cursing in Spanish under his breath he came inside you, filling you to the hilt with some of his seed spilling out of you.

The both of you panted against one another, Miguel’s body slowly relaxing as he placed one final kiss against the new marks he left on your neck. He lifted his head back to look at you, your eyes half-lidded and face flushed as you caught your breath. Your heart was going a mile a minute, knowing your body would feel sore, but you felt satisfied beyond measure. With a hiss and much protest, Miguel pulled his softening length out of you, watching his cum slip out of your slit and run down your thigh.

“You okay?”, he asked, his voice no longer laced with anger or irritation. You nodded, licking your lips as you tried to find words for him, but your mind was still fogged with the high you just experienced.

“You should listen to me more often you know. I don’t want you causing any more trouble”, Miguel told you, voice softer than usual as he caressed the soft skin of your quivering thigh.

“And what’s the fun in that if this happens when I piss you off?”, you told him, a dopey grin on your face as your eyes met his. The same mischievous glint he always found was there again, something he initially hated now being something he wanted to see more often.

“Then I’ll hold you to it. Don’t be surprised if I put you in your place again”

“I’m looking forward to it, Miguelito”

He found himself chuckling at that, the nickname that made the hairs at the back of his neck rise in aggravation now felt like a blanket of comfort. He knew down the line this wasn’t the end of your antics, that you would continue to get on his nerves. Only this time, he found a way to get something out of it.

Maybe just maybe, having you around wasn’t so bad after all.

©️ ovaryacted 2023

#miguel o’hara #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #atsv miguel #miguel spiderman #miguel x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara smut #spider man: across the spider verse #atsv smut #atsv x you #spiderman 2099 #itsv #ovaryacted fics

[k-kroomie]

Ganke holding Miles Jordan's: Why can't I wear them again?

Miles snatching the Jordan's: Cuz I wanna wear my shoes now give em here.

Hobie swings through the window: Hey luv thought I'd borrow ya shoes, yea?

Miles gives Hobie his Jordan's with no hesitations: Yea, I wasn't gonna wear them anyways.

Ganke 🧍: OH FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!

#ship: punkflower #i don't know how britsh people talk- i get any slang on here from other fan fics and the internet #hobie x miles #miles x hobie #miles morales x hobie brown #hobie brown x miles morales #hobie brown #ganke lee #miles morales #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #atsv #spider man: into the spider verse #itsv #punkflower #flowerpunk

[sergeanttpoliteness]

sooo.. no idea how old the post was, but if your req are still open, Wholesome Spider Noir? 0u0

hello, love! not sure which post you're talking about, but the last time i posted a story was in 2020, so it's surely been a while, lmao. to be honest with you all, my days of writing for marvel are coming to an end, but when i saw this ask, i thought i'd post something in honor of the sequel of the movie that started it all, since this blog will forever mean a lot to me. thank you for this request, i hope it's enough <3

--------

Peter watches you now, as you wash the dishes and pass them to him to dry, lather covering your hands and forearms. You nearly drop and break a ceramic plate in the sink, and your humming to a song stuck in your head is replaced by small giggles.

He worries you’ll never know how much he truly loves you.

He knows you understand how tough it can be for him sometimes to be as open and vulnerable. Tribulations and heartache forged his heart, painted his soul a deep blue— like fierce, destructive ocean waves during a violent storm. You’ve reassured him countless times, yet after everything he’s seen, his brain struggles to accept there can exist someone so gentle, so angelic. As war and bloodshed explode around him, you’re like a flower blooming in between the broken concrete—  beauty amidst the foulness.

You wash the soap off your skin, and when you close the faucet, Peter immediately reaches for your wet hands and gently dries them with the kitchen towel. You chuckle. “You’re supposed to dry the dishes— not my hands.”

At the sight of your grin that reaches your eyes, he smiles. So many words, so many languages, so many smiles, and touches of lips, yet neither could ever fully convey this glow in his chest. So many universes, worlds, and people that have entered his life and that he will happen upon, yet he’ll always choose to be here with you. 

He calls your name. It’s an incantation that illuminates his chest and seeps into his surroundings, painting over the blue with glimmering gold. It helps him believe he won’t forever be damaged. No, he can also be the sunlight filtering through the heavy clouds and smoke, caressing the flower. 

Instead of the towel, Peter’s hands now brush against your skin, fingers trailing down your forearms, wrists, and knuckles until he places his palms flat against yours. He reaches down and plants a tender kiss on your forehead, lips lingering for a while. When he pulls away from you, heart racing, he prays you understand.

Your eyes soften, your fingers interlocking with his. 

“I know. I love you, too.”

#spider noir x reader #spider man noir x reader #spider noir x you #spider noir fan fic #fan fiction #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #gender neutral #fem!reader #male!reader #spider man: into the spider verse #sm: itsv #sm: atsv #peter parker x reader

[herbrattypsht]

Roomate!miguel????? coming into readers room while she’s……. Yk 👀👀👀

LEMME COOK😋

MDNI

Roomate!Miguel x Fem!Reader

Tw: masterbating, squirting, praise and degradation, a little mean miguel, munch miguel, spanking, multiple orgasms

MDNI

You’d just came from cheer practice, feeling frustrated and pent up. But why were you pent up? Because they had the boys football practice as the same time. Which meant you saw your fine ass roommate Miguel, beads of sweat dripping down his nice ass biceps and abs.

You always knew he was fine, even when you saw hime for the first time. Did you dare to say anything to him? Fuck no. Its was already a little frustrating having to hear about how good he was in bed due to the thin walls in your apartment, or when you could hear his whiny moans as he pleasured himself.

You kick off your shoes and head straight for you room, closing the door but being the needy whore you were in that moment you couldn’t give a fuck to lock the door, especially since you though Miguel would just hang out with his teammates after practice like usual.

You stripped yourself of your bra, panties and shorts. Letting out a breathy sigh as your fingers slowly but surely swirled around your puffy clit. Your free hand grabbed your pink dildo out from your nightstand drawer, sliding it through you slick folds, lubing it up with you slick. A whiny moan escaped your mouth as you pressed the toy in, your gummy walls fluttering around it, sucking it in.

You stared off with a good pace, feeling every vein and ridge of the toy, your moans got louder and needier.

‘Why did he look so good?’

All you could think about was him. Miguel. Bucking your hips up to meet your own pace as the more you thought about him the wetter you got, creamy slick dripping forming around the toy. You tried to keep your moans quiet but it felt so good. So good that you didn’t hear Miguel walking through the front door.

To be fair he couldn’t hear you either, his headphones blasting music as he made his way to your door with a bag of food. Your eyes were closed still, as he opened the door and saw the most beautiful sight ever. His cute roommate fucking herself silly.

God he was so hard now.

He knew he should’ve left while he could, he knew..but he didn’t. He slowly closed the door and walked closer, a needy groan left his mouth as he heard you moan his name.

“M-Miguel..fuck..”

“I’ll make you feel good mamas...”

He said, which made your eyes pop open so fast, but you just couldn’t stop. Your low, fucked out expression was doing things to him.

“Tell me you want this..use your words..”

“Please Miguel, M’so close..”

And that was all he needed to here as he pulled the toy out and flipped you onto your stomach, arching your back and eating you out like a starved man. It was so messy and sloppy but so fucking good as you moaned and whined into your pillow. His perfect ass lips wrapped around your clit, from the sounds he was making it sounded like he was enjoying it more than you.

It was so good but so intense. You tried to scoot away but his big hands gripped your waist and tummy and pulled you back again his mouth, his hand coming down on your ass with a hard smack. The stinging sensation making you moan.

“You wanted this so take it, I know you can, you’re the perfect little whore for me..don’t want anyone else Bebe..”

He murmured as his other hand went around to rub you clit, making your moans get louder and whinier.

“Oo shit g-gonna Mmm, gonna cum..”

And you did, as Miguel lapped up every last drop, but he didn’t stop. His mouth kept its assault on your pussy going. You tired to reach back and push him away, but to no avail. He was muchin on you like you were a home cooked meal.

“Gimme one more baby, I know you can do it pretty girl, such a pretty sloppy girl for me..”

His hand applied smacks to your ass, marveling at how it reddened. You were so close you didn’t are moaning like a bitch in heat, you could feel your second orgasm creeping up on you, as you reached back and rubbing your clit, you finally let go…squirting. The rush of liquid and the intense orgasm all together making your legs shake. After helping you through your orgasm, Miguel finally sat up, grabbing a towel with Luke warm water and began to clean you up. He then got you a glass of water and sat your tired body up, making you drink it. He then cuddled up with you and let you sleep, his large body providing heat and comfort. He later kisses your forehead, and dozed off.

Did I do good?🤷🏽‍♀️🤎

#fan fic #marvel fics #miguel o'hara #smut #marvel #miguel smut #miguel ohara smut #spider man smut #itsv smut #miguel x reader

[liyawritesss]

ᴀꜱ ᴡᴇ ᴅᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇ, ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴋɪꜱꜱ ᴜᴘ ᴏɴ ᴍᴇ

Characters: Spider-Verse!Earth-42!Miles Morales [The Prowler] x Black!Fem!Reader

Type: Fic

Word Count: 1.7k

Synopsis: Sometimes Miles just wants to sway with you in the middle of his bedroom while R&B music plays in the background.

Warnings: Cursing, 15+ Miles here, keep it cute this is lil cuz we talkin’ bout here!!!

A/N: My first (and possibly only) attempt at 42!Miles Morales. Idk, thought it would be something cute…might make a 1610!Miles Morales counterpart lol.

Song Suggestions: “Close” by Ella Mai, “Lotus Flower Bomb” by Wale ft. Miguel, “Love Don’t Change” by Jeremih

Tags: @6-noir @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @jacuzziwaters @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @verachii @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @niyahwrites @pantherheart @marsfunzon22 @movie-enthusiast22 @famedrs-blog @briology @honeybleed

Sign Up For My Taglist Here!

“Do you think this fits okay?”

His lights are set to the lavender color setting on his LED lights that line the top ceiling corners of his room, though the lamp on his desk also provides warm white light to contrast against it. Miles looks up from his phone conversation with his uncle to glance at your figure standing in front of the mirror attached to the back of his door as your gaze analyzes the new pair of leggings adorning your legs.

“They look perfect, bella.” Miles responds, the amused lilt in his voice nearly blowing over your head when you hear him speak. Though, to Miles, anything you wear is perfect in his eyes. Your lips jut out in a pout as you continue to examine your bottom half dressed in the black leggings, debating on if you’d gotten the right size to accentuate your curves the way you want them to.

The leggings were just one of many items that laid in various shopping bags that littered Miles’ floor, currently. From LuLuLemon to Victoria’s Secret to Fashion Nova, Miles can certainly say that he’s made up for his impromptu disappearance before your date night the night prior.

He didn’t mean for last night to happen, truly. He knew you really wanted to see that movie. It was the last night it was playing in theaters, too, and you were so excited when you managed to find tickets to the last showing, and proposed the date idea to him. Miles admits that he was interested in the proposition, not just because you had proposed it, but because the mere mention of it got you so worked up that he truly believed it to be worth it.

So, to make up for not only bailing on the date, but also going ghost for much the prior night as well, he picked you up for an impromptu day at the mall. It wasn’t an easy feat, Miles admits, convincing you to allow him to make it up to you in this way. He felt guilty for inadvertently crushing your hopes, and you’d felt even more guilty about taking the new date offer that required him to spend his money.

“I’m tryna make it up to you.” He’d said

“Miles, I said it was fine-” you’d said.

“-but it’s not, though.” He’d interjected.

“You had…stuff to do,” you’d whispered to him, “I can’t expect you to drop everything at my beck and call, and I know what I signed up for when we started dating.”

If someone told Miles that four months ago he’d start dating the pretty girl who always slept through their shared mathematics class, he’d surely look at you as if you’d just grown a second head. He still doesn’t know what attracted him to you in the first place - how pretty you looked asleep at your desk, or the fact that even though you’d be knocked out the second you took your seat, if the teacher happened to call on you for a question, you managed to answer it correctly every time. 

You’d quickly became his first and, as it stands, only friend at Visions Academy. Soon enough, you’d also became aware of his double persona, though if Miles had it his way, he would have kept you in the dark for as long as possible. It wasn’t easy, juggling the duality of the life he lived. The less people close to him, the easier the job was. Well, unless the person was you.

You were like a piece of gum stuck under a desk - an ever looming presence, never disappearing; but like the candy before being discarded, you were also sweet, refreshing, comforting. Miles wanted to make this work for the both of you. He’d grown too fond of you to let you slip out of his life like sand from the beach.

“So that mean you just accept whatever you get?” Miles asks, eyebrows raised again. “Nah, we don’t do that around here.”

Unfortunately, there was no fighting against Miles when he had his mind made up.

So you entertained his proposition, though not without a fight. You made sure that the boy bought some things for himself as well, and even managed to sneak in a few items for his mother (which, in all honesty, he didn’t need much convincing for - it was his mother, after all). So, granted, not all of the bags on the floor were yours, so it made you feel a bit better about Miles splurging on you as an apology.

He watches as you shift through a tiny black and pink bag with the V.S. initials printed in cursive on the side, fishing out a bottle of soft purple body mist that Miles would recognize anywhere. He’d recognize it because it was his favorite scent that you frequently bought from the clothing chain. He could never tire of the lavender and jasmine that calmed his mind and relaxed his body whenever you were around, or put him to sleep whenever the two of you cuddled together.

The familiar spritz spritz sound echoes throughout his room, fading into the old school R&B that currently plays in the living room area where his mom is having company over. The mist settles into the cloth of your sweatshirt - his sweatshirt, actually -  and into your skin, before he watches your feet carry you closer to him.

“Don’t tell me you sprayed that just to come and hug me?” He says, though his body straightens at the edge of the bed, phone becoming a distant memory as he tucks it into his hoodie pocket.

You shrug, a playful smile spreads to your lips as you step between his legs, hands coming to cup his cheeks, “shut up, you know you like it.”

He didn’t have to admit that he loved it - a lazy hand coming to rest at the back of your knee was enough proof of it.

“Why you tryna be like me,” the brown skin boy hums, sucking his teeth and deflecting the conversation from the truthful statement, “always stealin’ my clothes ‘nd shit.”

“Same reason why half of my scrunchie jar is gone,” you tease back, “I gave you one, Miles, and now I’m missing, like, ten of ‘em.”

“I’on know what you talkin’ ‘bout.” 

“Of course you don’t.”

At some point, the same hand that rested behind your knee crept up to your waist as his head pressed into your stomach, the smell of your perfume drawing him closer. It lulled him into a state of security; however, it was swiftly ruined when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He’s sure that it’s Aaron.

He takes the phone out and it opens up to his text messages almost immediately when his face comes into view. The ominous intent behind the words ‘hold on’ in blue bubbles makes his stomach tighten.

You feel it, too. The shift in his demeanor can be felt when you stand this close to him. “Was it Aaron?”

His phone becomes discarded on the bed while his other arm raises up, and both wrap around your frame while he buries his head into your stomach inhaling the perfume etched into the fabric there. “Yeah.”

One hand goes to rub soothing circles on his clothed back, the other caresses the nape of his neck, holding him close, for the reality of it all was that he could have to leave at any moment.

The slightly muffled music from the living room shifts to another song and it sparks a lightbulb in your head. 

Your hands go to gently pry Miles’ hands from your body. He raises his head in question, before being tugged to his feet by you as well. You reposition his arms around your waist, and yours find their place around his neck, and after a few seconds, it clicks for him.

“You’re so corny.” He voices, muffled by the position his face takes in the crevice of your neck, nose tickled by the goddess braids that rested against your shoulders.

“Shut up,” you lightly scold, “just sway with me, idiot.”

The richness of the singer’s voice gives Miles’ body more than enough incentive to lean from side to side in a slow motion, taking you in his arms with him as he does so. You fully expect for him to pull away or grumble at the proposition, yet, you’re not completely surprised when he simply gives in to your direction. Perhaps he desires the same closeness you do in this moment, you think.

Miles feels himself smiling when the touch of your hand graces his cheek, thumb swiping comforting strokes along his skin. He hums at the touch, his grip tightening in the slightest around your waist. Is he too young to wish for this all the time?

His phone buzzes in his pocket again, his brown hand fishes for the device and glances down at the text message once more. The pit in his stomach fades away when he reads the words ‘no need. good 4 2nite’ from his uncle in blue. Miles lets out a short breath, pockets his phone, and sinks back into your touch. 

He’s thankful that there seems to be no need for the Prowler on the streets tonight. Perhaps he can rest in peace.

Miles’ taken from his thoughts when he feels your lips graze across his cheek. “Everything good?”

He feels a smile spread across his lips. “Yeah, we good,” he hums, returning the affection.

Neither of you even notice that another person has entered the room, until the sound of someone clearing their throat echoes throughout the walls. Miles looks up from your shoulder to see his mother standing in the doorway, a content yet melancholic look on her face.

“If you kids want something to eat, there’s leftovers from me and the girls, bien?”

The hand that was once on his cheek now hides your face from his mother’s prying, knowing eyes, and it emits a chuckle from the older woman.

“Bueno, mami, we’ll get some later.” Miles replies before Rio leaves, making sure to leave the door ajar just the slightest.

Though, neither of you are ready to part, even at the prospect of food. So Miles returns to the warmth of your neck, your hand returning to caress the side of his face as he molds himself back into you, and the two of you continue to sway to the music, content in your own little world.

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!

#black reader #black tumblr #black spiderman #spiderman #spiderman into the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman beyond the spiderverse #spiderman itsv #spiderman atsv #spiderman btsv #spiderman miles morales #spiderman atsv x reader #spiderman x reader #miles morales spider man #miles morales spiderverse #miles morales x black!reader #miles morales x reader #miles morales fluff #miles morales fic #42!miles x reader #42!miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x black!reader #earth 42 miles fluff

[onginlove]

Headcanons for affection with a s/o for both with 1610 and 42 miles? I love how they contrast sm >_<

yes babes

I’m so late on this and im sorry

I need to find the motivation to writing the requests

away here ❤️❤️

————-

1610

•comes over your house often with gifts

•he lays in bed with you and kisses your forehead

•he draws you “for a art study”

•would do anything to basically hang out with you

•shows affection by physical touch

—

42

•shows affection with gift giving more than 1610

•gives you necklaces and bracelets

•def takes off gaurd pictures of you and makes it his lock screen

•when he’s laying in bed with you he kisses your cheek and is the big spoon 🤭🤭😭

——-

sorry it’s so short xd

#miles morales #across the spiderverse #miles morales fic #spider man: across the spider verse #atsv #atsv fanfiction #miles morales x reader #e!42 miles morales #miles morales x you #earth 42 miles morales x reader #love’s requests #headcanon #spiderman itsv #itsv #itsv 2 #spiderverse itsv #spiderverse #into the spiderverse #itsv fic #spiderman atsv

[1lenii]

The Ride⚠️

E!42!miles x F!reader

Who doesn’t love a good Miles fic (@everyothermileswriter love ya)

Ntm to say on this one tbh, except that this was my experience learning, when I was with my bsf😭

No warnings ⚠️ that I know off—

Anywys enjoy lovlies⭐️

****************************************************

“Diablo mami..!” Miles groaned

(Y/N) was shaking from the adrenaline, sweat beads forming on both of their foreheads

(Y/N) speeds up the pace

“Ma, I’m gonna—“

(Y/N) slows down her pace on the motorcycle, ultimately coming to a stop in front of a connivence store

Miles quickly gets off, knees buckling as he kiss the ground in front of him, almost of the verge of throwing up from the dizziness

“Don’t exaggerate babe, I wasn’t THAT bad” (Y/N) says through the helmet, waving him off dismissively

“Tú seguiste, en una luz roja.” He deadpanned, still on the floor (you ran a red light)

Sighing, (Y/N) gets off the motorcycle taking the key out of the ignition

(Y/N) clicks a button on the helmet now being able to see the neon world that is New York

Taking a few steps to her lover, offering a hand to to Miles in invitation to get to which he takes

“I mean YOU did teach me, didn’t you?”

“Oka? But that’s me. I can’t have my pretty girl doing delinquent shit” Miles says rubbing his thumb over the still intertwined hands below

“Hypocrite” (Y/N) mumbles softly letting go, going ahead into the store.

Miles light feet tracing behind her<3

****************************************************

⚠️⚠️Should I make a part 2/sequel to miles teaching her how to maneuver such a heavy vehicle🧍🏽‍♀️🧍🏽‍♀️

BTWWWW This was never meant to b sexual, dirty minds smh :p

#atsv x reader #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales x reader #miles x y/n #atsv fic #miles 42 #miles g morales x reader #miles morales #miles morales x y/n #miles x reader #e!42 miles morales #42!miles morales x reader #miles g morales #prowler miles #prowler morales #prowler earth 42 #atsv #itsv #Spider-Man atsv #spider man into the spider verse #across the spiderverse #atsv spoilers #across the spider verse spoilers #x reader #atsv miles g #miles g x reader #miles42 #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles fluff #earth 42

[theshadowrealmitself]

I think it’d be funny if Aaron met Peter and his friends (like MJ and Harry) after he starts mentoring Miles, and realizes that somehow he’s the most well-adjusted out of all them

Especially funnier if he’s the Prowler in that situation

#I don’t think I can articulate it #I guess like if Peter had a little hero group #and somehow the guy who’s a villain (probably on the way to switching over to being a hero for his nephew tho) is somehow the most adjusted #like the hero’s are not alright #Spiderman #spider man #spider-man #aaron davis #Peter Parker #I think the concept of Aaron just knowing Peter is so funny #and there could also be the angst of Peter seeing Uncle Ben in the way Aaron is with Miles #even if he doesn’t die #I don’t know why Aaron hasn’t taken off in the Spidey fandom like I thought he would’ve #like I mean he’s big in ITSV fandom #but I really thought after the movie people would still just add him to stuff #like adding him to fics that aren’t specifically ITSV fics if that makes sense #miles morales #the prowler #harry osborn #mary jane watson #MJ #mj watson

[awakening5]

Willing

Rating: M

With the slow charge, it would be four hours before he had enough power to jump. He shakes his head. “I’ll go find a hotel to spend the night.”

“With what money?” she quirks an eyebrow. Right. It’s not like his credit card works here. Or that he even has money in his universe. “Just come to my place.”

He should tell her no. He should tell her he doesn’t think it’s a good idea. Even if she can handle spending hours with him late into the night, he’s not sure he can.

“Thanks,” he says instead.

-

Or two people trying not to have feelings for each other share a bed

Part 1: Waiting

Part 2: Wanting

#Miles Morales #Gwen Stacy #miles x gwen #gwiles #my fic #willing #Spider-Man #itsv #waking series

[cockdestroyer32]

home.

peter b. parker x fem!reader

word count: 2190

summary: you're used to taking care of peter, but today, you're sick, and he's ready to take care of you.

a/n: yes him again what about it

-

The apartment was awfully quiet. The sounds of a knife tapping against a cutting board and of water bubbling inside a pot were replaced by an irritatingly calming, yet uncanny, sound of nothing. Peter could hear the occasional car honking from the busy streets of New York underneath him and the distant sound of the television in your bedroom, but he still missed the sound of your voice babbling to him about the most random thing in the entire planet, all so he wouldn’t linger in the moment he had to sign the paper that definitively cut the string that tied him and MJ together. You’d sit next to him and the both of you would have dinner while watching an episode of one of those random detective shows that always seem to be on TV at any hour, and just for a little while, things would feel normal. But that’s not happening today, nor on any day of the rest of the week. ‘Cause you’re sick. 

When you get sick, you act like you’re on death’s door. You’ll just lie in bed all day looking like a baby who got their favorite toy taken away. And you get clingy. When you and Peter were both 20, living together in a tiny apartment after college robbed you of every last dime, it was normal for you to cling to him during these moments. The flu brought out a sort of neediness in you you didn’t understand. The first time it’d happened, he’d snickered and very gently pushed you away after, a very generous, 10 minutes of hugging. Defeated, you retrieved to your room, throwing your body on the mattress, where you lay on your stomach, your cheek and the corner of your upper lip squished and elevated from your awkward position. You didn’t even get under the blankets, so melodramatically tired you refused to lift the covers over your shoulders. Though hours later, you’d found Peter had done it for you instead, his head buried on your shoulder and his arm draped over your ribs.

You were 99% sure he did it because he felt guilty. Deep down, Peter B. Parker had always been a softie.

You’d gotten used to your sickly routine, though when Peter met Mary Jane, and shortly after you met your own partner, the snuggling obviously stopped. Peter got down on one knee for MJ and both of you moved out of the little apartment you’d learned to call home. 

Now at 38 and with a divorce on his belt, Peter’s the one clinging to you. It’d be kind of funny really, if it wasn’t for how crushing it was to have to hold him as he held back tears.

But today there were no tears. In fact, there was none of the slouching or huffing or eyebrow furrowing that’d plagued Peter for the past month. He’d felt…normal, for once. For the first time in a while, he wasn’t thinking of the red hair and the dimples and freckles, he was thinking of the arms that wrapped around him and held him tight every day for the last 30 days, the voice that told him it was okay and the hands that stroked his hair and made them dinner every night. The hands that were clutching to a blanket at this very moment. 

He got up.

He was worried for you. Yes, it was just the flu, but he knows how you get. Plus, after how you’ve taken care of him the last month the least he could do was…well, everything.

He walked over to your bedroom and very slowly nudged the door that had already been open a few inches. Inside, you were in bed, underneath the covers, one end of the blanket tucked under your head as you used it as a pillow. There was that familiar frown, your eyes looking like you might just start crying at any second, though they’re never glassy, the lips that almost pout, and quiver every now and then when you shut your eyes tightly as you just can’t bear the stuffy nose and scratchy throat anymore. 

It is a strangely adorable sight.  

You look at the TV, though Peter is almost sure you’re not paying attention, and you don’t look at Peter who now stands at the doorway either, you probably see him there, you’re just too grumpy to look or say anything. Another thing Peter is almost sure about.

Peter’s hand reaches for the back of his shoes and he pulls them off, dropping them to the ground without much care. Now displaying his white socks, he crawls into bed beside you and drops his body on the mattress with a groan. He stares at your back and the bit of your cheek he can spot for a little while, before finally speaking up.

“Wanna cuddle?” he asks.

“Oh, thank God,” you flip around on the bed, not wasting a second as you wrap your arms around him and gleefully place your cheek over his chest. He chuckles and puts his palm on the back of your head, cradling it. Comfy.

“You sure this is alright with you?” you ask quietly, not opening your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s alright,” he says. “I kind of missed this actually…”

“…You missed me clinging to you while I can’t stop coughing and have a runny nose?” Despite how worn-out you feel, you smile. You’ll always have the energy to poke fun at him. He laughs.

“I mean…it does feel like old times a little bit, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose it does.”

“…Remember when we stayed in bed all day binging The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air?”

You chuckle, “Yeah, I do.”

“It was a good day.”

“It was nice, yeah.” you reply, a tiny smile covering your lips. Though it’s quickly cut off by a nasty, old-man cough arising from the back of your throat which makes you have to lean your head back and away from the warmth of Peter’s chest, releasing the cough against the fabric of the hoodie that covers your elbow. Peter looks down at you, his hand that had been stroking your hair up until this point not ceasing.

“You alright?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” Though the tiny smile is gone from your face and you’ve gone back to your usual “sickly” expression. You rest your head back on his chest.

“You need your nutrients, have you been eating?”

“Yeah, mostly snacks. I don’t have the energy to cook.”

“I could make you some chicken soup if you’d like.” His voice is oh, so genuine, but you stay quiet for far too long, your silence telling a whole story. A new smile forms on your lips.

“That won’t be necessary,” you reply, a chuckle leaving your lips at the end of the sentence.

“What?” He smiles widely, “My chicken soup is not that bad!” 

“Yes, it is. It’s terrible, Peter.” Another chuckle escapes you.

“My cooking is not as bad as you say it is.” 

“It is. The first time I tried your chicken soup, I swear I wound up sicker than how I already was. I’m pretty sure you gave me a stomach bug.”

“No, I did not!” He exclaims, laughing.

“Yes, you did!” You say, “For the rest of the week I was so lightheaded and nauseated, I don’t know what the hell you put in there but I could swear I was turning into a zombie.”

You both laugh, “I’m sorry, you just do not have Aunt May’s skills.”

He sighs, his laughter calming down though a wide smile still plays at his lips. He pulls you closer to him again. “Well, no one does.”

“That’s true.” You bury your face against his chest, your nose right in front of his heart. His frame is much bigger than yours, and his whole body can envelop yours with ease, like securing you in a little tent of warmth. 

Peter doesn’t even notice you dozed off. And when he does his arm reaches for the remote controller on the nightstand, his other hand holding the back of your head as he tries not to wake you up. 

He could leave, of course. But he won’t. He’d be lying if he said it was purely out of the desire to care for you. He did want to, but it was mostly for him. He wanted to have you in his arms and to stroke your messy hair and pretend like you two were back in your tiny New York apartment, trying to figure your lives out, long before any of the draining life stuff had happened. He closes his eyes, and for a second, you’re both 20 again, and he hears the distant sounds of a laugh track fade out in the background.

Peter wakes up to the sound of retching. He’s lying on his other side now, his belly and cheek pressed against the mattress as his eyes slowly open to stare at the dresser in front of him. It’s darker in the room, and he’s not sure what time it is. There’s a sob and more retching, and Peter turns his head. His eyes squint and close as he notices the bathroom light is on, and the door is wide open. He sees you’re not in bed and only then does his muzzy brain process the fact that the retching sounds are coming from you. You’re throwing up. He flings the covers aside and gets out of bed, hurriedly making his way to the bathroom. When he gets to the door he sees you sitting before the toilet, expelling the rejected matter from your stomach. He quickly kneels down beside you and pulls your hair back, holding the strands in his palm like a makeshift ponytail. His other hand rubs circles on your back.

“Hey, hey…it’s alright, get it out,” he says soothingly, and when you sniffle, that’s when he tilts his head and notices the tears under your eyes. He catches sight of your wet eyelashes and scrunched-up face right before you bend over the toilet again, throwing up some more. He caresses your back more vigorously. 

Once the spew is out of your mouth, you cry, “I’m sorry.”

“What? What are you sorry for?” You don’t answer, but he didn’t really expect you to. You sniffle and sit back down on the ground, letting your body fall against the tile behind you, leaning your head against it. “You okay? You done?” Peter’s hand caresses the side of your face, pushing your hair away from your face. You nod, your eyes are still tightly shut and you look even more miserable than usual.

“I really hate being sick,” you say, finally looking at Peter, almost as a plea.

He chuckles softly, “I know, sweetheart,” He’s never called you that before, but considering your current situation you don’t think it as absurd.

“I didn’t wanna wake you up, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’m glad I was able to be here for you.”

“I know, but…you shouldn’t have to deal with this, this is so nasty.”

“Oh, it’s not nasty,” he shakes his head, looking down. You tilt your head at him. “Alright, maybe it’s a liiiittle nasty.” You smile and let out a chuckle, he does the same. “C’mere,” he says, reaching out and wrapping his arms around you. You rest your cheek on his chest, keeping your lips away from his shirt. He strokes the back of your head again.

“You’re the best flu buddy anyone could ever ask for,” you state and he laughs.

“I don’t think so. I mean…at least your partners could make you soup.”

“Oh, who cares about that? You do this for me instead. And you’re the only one who does it well.” 

Peter’s heart inexplicably jumps, and he’s forced to take in a deep breath. For reasons he doesn’t understand, he fully relaxes into your arms.

“Well…good, ‘cause I’m not letting go.”

You chuckle. He makes you feel safe, but he doesn’t think you know you do the exact same for him. Sure, he’s being the lifeboat you need tonight but you’ve been that for him the whole month. In fact, you’ve been that for him for as long as he could remember. So if he had to hold your hair back as you threw up or rub your back or give you medicine or learn how to make some goddamn chicken soup for you, he would. He would do it a hundred times over if it made you feel even a little bit better.

He continues to rub your back and you two remain seated on the bathroom floor. It’s not the prettiest situation, but still, Peter doesn’t feel the need to close his eyes and listen closely for a laugh track. Right now is just perfect.

You keep your head on his chest for a while, before finally lifting it up and looking to the toilet, your hand raising to close the seat and flush.

“Oh, would you look at that?” you say.

“What?”

“That looks like your chicken soup.”

#peter b. parker #peter b parker #peter b parker x reader #peter b parker x y/n #peter b parker x you #into the spider verse #ac repair #spider man into the spider verse #spider man: across the spider verse #spider man itsv fic #spider man fic #spider man x reader #peter parker x reader

[chiyuumiii]

Miles-1610B Headcanons

Giving you guys some content whilst Labyrinth is still in process !

♡♡♡

IN-A-RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS:

• Miles would be the typa guy that gets super concerned whenever you're out alone without him, texting you every 10 minutes like a worried mom.

Miles: “BABY ARE YOU OKAY??”

You: Yeah i'm just out with my friends, don't worry!

Miles: “ALRIGHT TEXT ME WHEN U WANT ME TO PICK U UPP, ILY AND STAY SAFE PLS ❤️”

• At the first months and weeks of your relationship, he isn't as clingy as he doesn't wanna pressure you too much, but when the two of you have been together for a long time, he starts to get a little clingy.

• If you have pets with him he will absolutely cherish and treat the pet like its his child, even purchasing a stroller for it when you walk around malls!

• Buys the two of you matching sneakers, he just thinks they're stylish and cute.

• Words of affection, quality time, and acts of service are his main love languages.

• Sketches you from time to time, if you take a peek at his sketch book, you find doodles of you and beautiful sketched portraits.

• Sometimes when you're not with him, he gets bored and goes to put up a graffiti with you on some places, and at some point, you see the graffiti, taking a picture of it and asking if its him (ofc it is)

• When he first had a crush on you, you could notice he was always a bit nervous to talk to you.

Miles: “Yo...! Um.... You got a pen...?” He says with obvious unease and anxiety.

• Babbles to Ganke Lee about how amazing you are and all your best qualities, sometimes he rambles for so long Ganke is sleeping on his gaming chair.

Miles: “They're so adorable and I love the way they hold me and I love their hands, I love their eyes and I love-”

Ganke: *snoring his ass out*

• If you know he's Spider-Man, sometimes he knocks at your window to your room when he gets the sudden urge to visit you.

BEST FRIENDS HEADCANONS:

• A cool best friend to be with, sometimes he lets you decorate his skateboard and takes you to paint graffiti with him.

• He tells you EVERYTHING, even gossips he overhears.

Miles: “Did you know what Peter did-”

You: “No I did not know what Peter did.”

• You know his deepest darkest secrets, and it was he accidentally painted on a cat while he was out painting graffiti and his dad saw the cat.

Jeff (Miles' dad): “I saw a cat on the road and I was like ‘oh a cat’ and it turned... there was some spray paint on its ass...”

Miles: *chuckles nervously* “wow dad... What an odd discovery...”

• It's always a blast having sleepovers with him, if you're an artist, he challenges you to an art battle, and if you're much of a gamer, he challenges you to with him.

• If you can play an instrument, he requests you to play his favorite songs sometimes, and even posts you on his insta.

♡♡♡

Pls wait patiently for labyrinth guys I am having a hard time writing 😭😭😭

#miles morales #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #headcanons #spiderman atsv #atsv #itsv #miles morales spider man #spider man miles morales #atsv headcanons #itsv headcanons #spiderman itsv #cutie patootie miles morales #pikmin #spotify #caexavfics #fics #x reader #reader

[grxceful-ly]

“In every other universe, Gwen Stacy falls for Spider-Man.”

Miles choked out her name before he realized he was moving, flickering in and out of sight as he shoved past his other self with a burst of electricity and cleared the edge of the roof.

He only cared to remember his own lack of webs somewhere between during the freefall and after the jump.

“And in every other universe, it doesn’t end well.”

#btw i wrote some gwiles! #if anyone is interested #gwiles #ghostflower #gwen x miles #miles x gwen #spiderman: across the spiderverse #into the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #atsv #itsv #ao3 #gwiles fic #spiderman #spider man: into the spider verse #beyond the spiderverse #i don't like this very much but i think it's mostly because i let it sit too long so here!

[sorryiwasasleep]

Webs! (not just for hero work!)

Peter B. Parker and Aaron Davis had found themselves in a… (Aaron had audibly screamed in annoyed rage when Peter called it this) sticky situation, cause Miles had claimed Peter as his Uncle to his parents and Peter backed it up in turn by claiming Aaron as his husband.

Which was fine when Aaron Davis was dead. Except, he wasn’t really dead, and on return, Aaron agrees to carry out the sham of a marriage with Peter, for Miles sake.

Now, months in, both men have realized it’s been for more than just “their” nephews sake, as they kiss for the first time not for show to sell the act, but as a show of their growing feelings.

Those feelings quickly become arousal and despite Peter coming off a painful back injury, he knows he can be well enough for more, if Aaron is also down.

Aaron doesn’t want to risk touching Peter’s back in the throes of passion and he knows himself well enough to know he scratches during sex. So though it’s a brand new thing they have going, he asks Peter to tie his hands.

Or, well, not exactly tie

(Post-Chapter 14 of ’And Pete’s Your Uncle!’.)

Chapter 1 Out Now!!

Inspired from this fanart:

#THIS IS A SMUT FIC #WORD OF WARNING #Aaron davis #Peter b Parker #Peter B. Parker #beter parker #Peter B Parker x Aaron Davis #Peter B. Parker x Aaron Davis #biderman #the prowler #spider-man #spider-man smut #spiderverse smut #itsv fanfic #post-itsv fanfic #not canon compliant with across the spiderverse #Aaron Davis lives AU #Fake marriage au #miles morales #fanfic based on fanart #bisexual peter parker #bisexual Aaron Davis #bisexual Peter B Parker #top Peter B. Parker #(in this fic at least)

[artist-fan146]

Read a fic for like the 10th time, wanted to make art of it so I did!

And In case y’all want to read said fic, here’s the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47774683

#spiderman atsv #spiderman itsv #spider man noir #spiderman noir #spider ham #hamnoir #noirham #fic fanart #please don’t steal my art #please don’t trace my art #artist fan146