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luveline · 11 months

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𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐲 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨'𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

miguel assumes you're mad when you stop initiating kisses and tries to get back on your good side —featuring grumpy but lovelorn miguel and his head-in-the-clouds spider-girl. requested here. fem!reader, 3k.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

"Gàn de piàoliang!" cheers the puppy at the bottom of your screen. Well done.

You smile at him and slide your finger across a lilac candy to make another three-match.

The music playing from your phone quietens as a text lines the top of the screen. You click it as soon as you recognise the contact picture beside it, your handsome Miguel with a filter over his face that paints rosy pink hearts over his high cheeks.

Finished. his text says.

Miguel is a man of little words. Over the phone he talks even less, easier to draw blood from stone than harness a conversation with him that isn't in person. His text demarcates the wall of messages you sent him earlier, not wanting for a reply but bursting to tell him things as they happened.

You put your phone down carefully. It's one of your most treasured possessions, shimmering and high tech, you can fold it down the middle to fit in your little spider suit pockets, though the amount of charms and beads hanging from it now impedes that particular functionality.

Miguel gave it to you as a gift without any fanfare around the time you started staying in his apartment in the society, and while your bunking with him was supposed to be temporary, the phone is for keeps. You've decorated it accordingly.

The best charm is a beaded translucent jellyfish, and not solely because it's beautiful: Miguel has a matching one that he showcases shamelessly.

You rush into his neat bathroom and lean heavily on the counter, propping your hand on the faucet to hold your weight as you assess your reflection in the mirror. When you turn your face, your nose shines in the light.

You decide it's best to wash up. Miguel will be back soon enough.

You get distracted by skincare, toner pads resting on your cheeks when you hear the door opening. A waste to take them off prematurely, you pat them flat to your skin and meet Miguel in his bedroom half ready.

"I can see why you didn't text me back," he says, giving you a quick glance from the corner of his eye as he walks past the bed and your waiting phone. He beelines for the kitchenette and disappears around the corner. "What do they do, the squares?"

"They're calming, I think," you say, following his path from the bathroom to the small kitchen.

His apartment is big but not huge. The main room is his bedroom, with enough space for a couch and a TV he never uses that comes out of the wall. To the right is a utility closet for storage and a walk-in wardrobe, and to the left lies the kitchen and the bathroom. It takes you all of ten seconds to be by his side.

Bottles rattle as Miguel opens the fridge. He grabs sparkling water for himself and a fruit tea concoction for you. You hadn't followed him for that, but you accept it anyway.

He looks tired. Tilting his head back to drink, you eye the stiff set to his shoulders and the way he rolls his arm out, orchestrating an offer for a massage in your head.

Miguel squints at you. "What?"

"What?" you ask back.

He doesn't explain. He screws the lid back on to his water and closes the fridge.

With his empty hand, Miguel reaches for your face. You stay very still in anticipation of his touch, imagining how he might take your cheek in his hand and pull you close, or perhaps curl thick, long fingers behind your neck and guide your chin up. He can be rough in odd ways, as though he's unaware of his strength.

"It's slimy," he says in disgust, pulling a toner pad from your left cheek.

"It's going to make my skin clearer."

"There's nothing wrong with your skin." True or not, you know it's Miguel's way of being sweet. He takes the second toner pad too, tossing them in the trash with a huff. "That's better. You look normal. Or, as normal as possible."

"Jerk!" you say through a smile, thinking now's the moment.

But Miguel hasn't peeled away your skincare to kiss you. He pats a spot of dampness on your cheek away with the back of his hand and turns on his heel, gunning for a change of clothes and a shower, if you know him. "Drink your tea. Did you eat? Me preocupo por ti."

You sigh and trail after him. "I was waiting for you to come back. It's Vietnamese week in the cafeteria, they're making cá kho tộ. Do you like that? It's sweeter than hake."

"It's fish?"

"Catfish. Caramelised catfish." You sit down on the bed, flipping your phone open to play your game while he decides.

That, and to ignore the inkling of doubt blossoming like mould under heat in your chest. An achy sort of worry…

Does Miguel not want to kiss you?

"What's the other option? I don't like sweet foods."

You knew that already. "You could make pasta?" you suggest.

"You'd love that."

"Are you teasing me?"

Miguel pokes his head out of the wardrobe, and with it comes his naked chest. His muscles are insane, lean tanned stretches of cord pulled taut as he grabs a shirt. "I'm making an observation. You like carbs."

"Everyone likes carbs, Miguel, especially Spiders."

"I know, but I don't make anyone else dinner." He's definitely flirting now, his voice playful and soft. "I'll make you pasta if you want."

Why hasn't he kissed you? Offering to make you dinner, smiling at you just as soon as his face has been pulled through his t-shirt. He's acting as affectionate as a man who'd like to kiss you without pulling through.

Well, maybe you kiss him too much. Come to think of it, you initiate the vast, vast majority of kisses, and you must kiss him twice a day at least. Miguel clearly favours you, but it's possible he isn't interested in as much physicality as you and hasn't had the heart to say. He likes watching vintage movies at night and half the time you're not interested in those. You haven't said a word about it because things between you are new and you like his being happy watching the things he enjoys. Miguel could be doing the same, allowing hugs and kisses he doesn't necessarily want in order to avoid hurting your feelings.

A favourite phrase of his cuts through your thinking, "¿Alguien en casa?" Anyone home?

"Oh, sorry, were you not getting enough attention?" you ask him, pretending to be more nonchalant than you are as you open the match game on your phone.

The puppy barks hello.

"Ah, you're a cómico now." Miguel sits on the bed beside you in sweatpants, reaching across the sheets to give your arm a shake. "I said, I'll make you pasta if you want pasta."

"I want what you want," you say honestly.

He stares at you. You're not sure what he's confused about. "Alright. Did you want it now?" he asks.

"Yes, serf," you say, laughing when he knocks your phone out of your hand and stands in a dramatised annoyance.

You play a couple levels of your game to give him space. He's quiet as he washes his hands and gets out the cookware, but he appears curious in the door, rag between his hands. "You're not gonna come and sit with me? I really am your maid."

Eager for an invitation, you join him in the kitchen. You brace yourself behind you to hop onto the counter and find his hands on your hips, helping you up.

Miguel meets your eyes as he does, not close but enough to beckon down for a kiss. You think about doing it. He might let you, his straight lashes pointed with his gaze, his eyes a heavy weight where they trace your features unhurried.

"How come you didn't text me back earlier?" he asks.

"Oh, I didn't know you were expecting me to. I'm sorry, handsome, I was kind of grody–"

"Grody? I doubt that–"

"–I figured I'd wash up before you got back."

"So you were busy?" he asks, returning to the chopping board at the left of the stove. He picks up a glinting-sharp knife. "Not something else?"

"No, why? Was I supposed to do something today?"

Miguel begins slicing into a tomato, red skin splitting to reveal greener insides. "No. No, just wondering."

You lean back against the wall, crossing a leg over your thigh. He's being kind of off. Your first impulse is to try and kiss it better but that directly fights your new theory. Being nice physically is far from your only weapon.

"Did you have a good day?" you ask, and here's where you'd pull him close or sidle up behind him and twist his hair around your finger. "I was thinking about you a lot. Did the strike mission go okay?"

"Fine. You didn't come see me, but it was fine."

You eye him from the corner of your vision. He's still cutting up tomatoes, a pan of olive oil and minced garlic simmering between you.

"I sent you all those photos," you say.

One of the Peter's you hang around with got his arm stuck in a window after he said, "Is that a bad idea, do you think? I really wanna try," and Hobie said, "They can't stop you."

The 'they' being unknown, Hobie was right. No one could stop Peter once he started climbing, but the window could certainly stop him from getting down. You'd sent Miguel pictures of his dangling body up in the atrium like a dark splodge, as well as a blurry photo of your face when you'd accidentally turned the camera. He responded to that one with a heart but the rest he didn't touch.

"They got him down eventually," you continue, "but I had to stay for moral support! And to feed him popcorn so he didn't starve. Was it peaceful without me?"

"You know I like when you visit me, right?" he asks carefully.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah?" he mimics, waving his hand at you. "Can't deal with you. Get the cream from the fridge."

You eat dinner as you and Miguel tend to do —you talk your way through it happily, smiling and joking, and he puts extra helpings on your plate when you aren't looking.

The alien quality of what you're doing rears its head briefly. He's trying to stop the quasi apocalypse. You're willing to help, though you'd been more interested in Miguel and getting to know his enigma than your responsibilities. Weird how love makes you want to be better.

"What was your course like?" Miguel asks, when the dishes have been set aside for washing and you've showered for the night.

He's talkative tonight.

"They taught us how to wield a baton," you say, climbing into his bed with a tired sigh. "One girl was crazy about it. She kind of looked like me…" You yawn, looking for his waist as he settles in the sheets and pillows next to you. "You're lucky I got my claws into you when I did. At least I'm not murderous. Much."

Miguel covers your hand on his ribs. He squeezes your fingers together gently like he's collecting them under his palm for borrowing.

"You didn't get your claws in me. I'm not easily led."

"Course not," you snort. You actually agree with him, but he said it too seriously for bedtime.

Miguel abandons your hand to pull you in, encouraging your head and upper chest onto his, hand coasting up and down the length of your arm lovingly. Firmly, like a massage, but adoring nonetheless. You languish in his touches and rub your lips, still tingling from spearmint, against the collar of his shirt gently. As indirect a kiss as you can manage, practically sick with longing after a day unkissed.

"Are you mad at me?" he asks into the quiet.

You pause, fingers with a mind of their own as you take a long strand of hair that curls under his ear between them, combing it flat. "Why, have you done something?" you ask, hiding your confusion with a delighted lilt.

"I've been trying to work that out." Frustration seeps into his voice, roughened syllables drawn tight, "But you're evasive."

"I'm evasive," you say softly, tilting your head back to meet his eye. "Miguel, why do you think I'm mad at you? I'm not mad."

Miguel glares at you. Brows furrowed, an especially formidable downturn to an otherwise pretty mouth, he looks as though he wants to start a fight with you, and as though he doesn't believe it.

"I'm not mad," you insist, sitting up a little.

"Then…"

You scrunch your brows at him. "You've been thinking I was mad at you all day? Why didn't you say something, handsome?"

He might roll his eyes at your pet name if he weren't knee deep in relief. You didn't know being mad at him was something he'd be sad with, and yet there he is lying beneath you, blowing a big enough exhale to ruffle the hair from his forehead.

Miguel takes your face into one hand. Your eyelashes flutter against his palm like a shuddering butterfly wing as you lean into his touch, more than happy to offer him whatever relief it is he needs while enjoying in the feeling of being close to him.

"You haven't kissed me all day," he says quietly. "I thought I must've pissed you off, 'cos you're more piranha than girl sometimes, but you weren't acting any weirder than usual beyond that."

You roll your eyes and hide your face in his hand. He's kidding around, and his thumb rubs over your skin tenderly to prove it.

"You're not mad?" he asks again.

You kiss his palm. You kiss his wrist, happy when he knows the moves like a well practised dance, his fingers sliding behind your ear to steady you as you dip down for a kiss.

It's a good kiss. Warm mouths vying for one another but trying not to seem desperate, Miguel's hand behind your ear growing harsher as you pull a breath against his lips. You press your hand into his pec too hard.

"Sorry," you murmur, stealing another fast kiss and pulling away.

You barely feel how uncomfortably you're skewed, you're that happy.

"Is there a reason you wouldn't kiss me?" he asks.

"I'm, like, always the first one to initiate and I kinda got it in my head maybe you didn't want me kissing you that much…" You grin at him. "The whole time you're playing twenty questions with me wishing I'd lay one on you. You know you have a voice for more than yelling at people, right?"

Miguel gets this look in his eyes then, rolling his jaw a touch at the supposed audacity of what you've said. The tip of his tongue works at his canine tooth, his eyebrows rising as he asks, "Oh, is that how you're talking to me tonight?"

"How else should I talk to you, Miguel?"

He doesn't bother with swiftness nor a show of strength as he rolls you onto your back. He settles above you with measured movements, a pleased smirk playing on his lips now. His eyes are dark, pupils wide as dimes.

"With compassion, mi cielo," he says.

"Have some sympathy for me," you implore him, wrapping your arms around his waist. It diffuses the tension, though neither party minds, evidenced by Miguel's easy relaxation and your ecstatic mood. Happiness bubbles up like carbonated bubbles, your chest awake with a fizzing excitement. "You really thought I was mad 'cos I wasn't kissing you?"

He avoids the question. "You think you're the only one who initiates?" he asks genuinely.

"Why didn't you kiss me, then? When you came home?"

"Your face was wet."

"And after when we were eating dinner?"

Miguel smiles at you. No sarcasm, no stress. He leans down to kiss you chastely, pulling away to say, "I thought you were definitely mad at that point."

"A kiss would've made me feel better."

You realise how quiet your bubble of the world really is for that handful of seconds, Miguel holding himself above you, your hands loose behind the broad stretch of his back.

"You know you can just ask me, yeah? You don't have to worry and wonder how I'm feeling. I'll tell you how I'm feeling if you want to know."

"Cariño, I always want to know," he says.

You breathe out slowly. Miguel takes your face into his hand for another kiss, or so you think —he pinches your cheek.

"And I always want to kiss you," he says quickly, climbing off of you.

"Where are you going?"

"I need a drink."

A break from sincerity. You don't mind that he needs to walk it off as long as he comes back. You stretch out on your back and cover your face with your hands.

"People think I'm the weird one," you say into them.

A hand clamps around your ankle and tugs you down. You shriek with startled laughter and climb away from him as he lands on top of you, a cold water bottle held to your bare neck.

"No!" you laugh.

Miguel laughs in tandem and presses it further down.

"I really am going to be mad at you if you don't quit!" You yelp as condensation wets your collar. "Miguel!"

"You're a wimp," he says with a bright smile.

You push him with some enhanced super strength and manage to get the water bottle off of your neck, but Miguel makes up for any differences in strength with enthusiasm and muscle alike, shoving you down.

You're laughing and pleading at the same time, "Please, Miguel, stop, it's sooooo cold."

Miguel laughs, dropping the bottle somewhere above your head, covering the cooled stripe of your skin with his big hand. The sound is warming enough, but you let him sweat for a second, content to be doted on.

He gives you a once over. "I'll kiss you first more," he promises.

"Starting now, please, handsome. Mi cielo."

Miguel groans and digs his arms under your back. You don't fight it as he drags you back to the top of the bed. In fact, you quite enjoy it. You lay back to receive his sorry pecks and his all encompassing hug, forgetting what you'd been worried about one damp crescent moon of a kiss at a time.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!

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polakina · 11 months

Text

intensified senses

pairing: miguel o'hara x reader

rating: explicit

outline: being highly recommended by his lieutenants, miguel decided to recruit you into the spider society. wary of you at first, he kept a distance. but you were persistent on getting through the cracks of his stony exterior

warnings: cursing, fluff, eventual smut, miguel being a sarcastic bitch, pining, flirting, masturbation (male), blindfolding, sensory deprivation, blowjobs, unprotected sex, riding

requests are open! hope you enjoy, petals <3

masterlist

He watched you from afar at first. Crouched from a high tower, dressed in inconspicuous clothing and hiding in plain sight. You came highly recommended. Jess and Ben spoke rather fondly of you, of your loyalty, bravery. You took care of your neighbourhood, of your city. And you were damn fucking good at it.

Miguel didn’t see it. He looked at you with a rather cold stare as you perched from a rooftop, your headpiece laid beside you as you looked out towards the streets. You crouched there with a bagel in one hand, iced coffee in the other. Your suit was all yellow, like the sun. The spider on your chest a deep orange. The sunset made it shine brightly. A pretty amber in the light. Miguel just sort of scowled at you.

“What do you think, O’Hara?” Jess came through on his earpiece, crackly, but clear enough to understand.

“She’s…you think that she could join the society?” He asked incredulously. “She’s a kid!”

“She’s actually similar in age to you, just with a better skin care routine,” he heard her chuckle lightly.

“That’s funny,” he responded coolly. Sarcastically. As he usually did. But he trusted Ben and Jess’ judgement, and to be fair, he was trying to expand the spider society further. So perhaps you would be an ample addition, in his eyes.

You knew someone had been watching you for a while. You felt eyes on the back of your head. For what reason, you weren’t sure, but they didn’t pose a threatening feel. So you let them be.

It wasn’t until you felt their presence behind you that you felt that something needed to be done about it. You heard his footsteps quite a fair distance behind you, and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up straight. He was big. Very big. Putting your headpiece back on, you stood up straight and kept looking ahead of you. It was only when you felt him get a little closer that you sent your webs in his direction. You heard him grunt as he was webbed to the rooftop door, stuck in place.

That’s when you turned around to face him. Glad that your face was covered, he wasn’t able to see the look of surprise on your face. The way your eyebrows raised or your mouth fell slightly open. Goddamn. He wasn’t exactly what you had expected to be following you all these weeks.

Dark curly hair. Reddish eyes. A waistline that would put any model to shame. The man was built like a brick wall, but with a face carved from a God or something. You blinked back into focus, not letting him distract you right now.

“Who are you?” You asked, trying to conjure a sort of authoritative voice to not seem so young. Or small. Which you were in comparison right now.

“That isn’t important right now,” he said, struggling against your webbing. “I need you to come with me. I’m recruiting you. That’s the reason I’ve come to find you. Not so we can chitchat and braid eachother’s hair.”

You laughed a little. Miguel ignored how his heart leapt a little at how pretty it sounded. “Wow you’re really good with your people skills. Has anyone ever told you that?” You walked a little closer to him, still hesitant. “Unless you tell me exactly who you are, and exactly what you’re doing in my city, I’m not going anywhere. And by the time that webbing’s structure decomposes enough for you to break free, you won’t find me again.”

He just sighed at you, rolling his eyes out of impatience. “Okay, I’m over this.” talons protruded from his hands in replacement for his fingers, and he sliced through your webbing. Shit, you put so much effort into that webbing too. He sauntered towards you, hips swaying as he looked down at you with a deeply disinterested glare. You backed up until your legs hit the edge of the rooftop, pinning you between him and the ground below. You could have just jumped. Leaned back until you fell from the roof and swung through the streets, far away from him. But you couldn’t. It was like you were frozen in place. “You’re coming with me. One way or another.”

You stepped up onto the ledge, almost as tall as he was now. “As much as I’d love to come back to what I assume is a cute little lair, I’m going to have to pass.” You fell backwards off the ledge and watched his eyes widen as he went to reach for you, but he wasn’t quick enough. Clearly his spidey senses weren’t kicking in today.

You fell, looking towards the ground as it got closer and closer to you.

But you never did reach it.

It was a blur, a flash of coloured lights blinded you for a few moments. There was a pressure on the back of your neck, as though someone had grabbed you harshly, penetrating skin from the pain it inflicted.

Instead your body collided with a solid stone floor. Hard. you felt somethin crunch as your body hit the ground, sending shooting pains through your entire arm. Blinking your eyes a few times, you adjusted to the bright fluorescent lighting around you. Screens were put up on every wall, a large computer sat atop a much larger desk was raised above you.

“What the fuck?” You whispered, pushing yourself off the ground. Turning slowly in a circle, you tried to gauge where you were, until you came face to face with him again. “You! Where the fuck have you brought me?” You started swinging at him. You don’t really know why. It was a defense mechanism, you guessed? But you swung at him nonetheless. Pointless as it was, it made you feel better.

He just huffed and shook his head, batting away your hands and feet as they came at him, as though they weren’t even hurting him. It wasn’t until he grabbed your wrist which you injured, feeling the dislocation in the bone. You hissed in pain, trying to pull away, to no avail. He said nothing, just snapping it back into place and your cry echoed throughout the room.

“Asshole!” You cried out, turning away.

“You’re welcome.”

“I wouldn’t have even been hurt if you hadn’t have kidnapped me!”

“I told you I was recruiting you for something.” His voice was so plain, so boring, so calm. Not a smidge of emotion or humanity in it.

“You could have asked nicely! Maybe explained the situation before…teleporting me to your shitty office,” you breathed heavily.

“You didn’t give me a chance. This was the only way.” He turned towards the desk, making his way up to it. You followed, rolling your wrist to alleviate the pain.

“So why am I here? And who exactly are you?” You walked to the desk, taking a seat in the chair and spinning in it until his face became blurry. You came to a sudden stop when his hands fell hard onto the arm rests, his face inexplicably close to yours. You held your breath as he scowled down at you.

“Get. Off. My. Chair.”

“Who. Are. You.”

He rolled his eyes. But it wasn’t he who answered your question. It was a woman. “Miguel, you’re back! And you brought company. So this is the Lemon Spider? I expected something…different.”

“Lemon Spider? That is not my name,” you chuckled, looking over to see a blonde woman on the screens.

“Well, LYLA is my name. And Lemon Spider suits you, so Lemon Spider is your name.” She smiled, her grin was big and bright.

“And you’re Miguel? I’m glad someone finally told me.”

Eventually Miguel explained why he’d brought you to him. The Spider Society. Hundreds of spiders from hundreds of different alternate realities protecting the canon events and ensuring nothing disrupted them. His lieutenants had recommended you after close observation of how you handled situations within your own universe. You were small but quick, good at getting in and out of places that others couldn’t fit. You had heart. You never acted out of anger, or revenge. Only when someone needed you, needed your help.

It was a noble cause. One that, of course, you would have signed up for yourself if Miguel hadn’t first brought you here against your will. The man really needed to work on his people skills.

Months later, you had worked your way up the ranks. A valued member of the society. Even Miguel was impressed. Not that he ever showed it. You’d even met some other spiders. Pav and Hobie being the ones you were closest with whenever you got a chance to see them.

But Miguel was always the one you wanted to see the most, but you tried to keep that your own little secret.

“So…how ya been?” You asked, spinning on the desk chair once again as he leaned over the desk beside you. He rolled his eyes once again, but his mean demeanour had slightly softened with you around over time. Even LYLA had noticed it, once asking him if he did in fact begin to soften towards you. She earned a low growl in response and never spoke of it again.

“Busy.”

“As always,” you huffed, looking at the same thing he was, a screen with a lot of maps and circles and colours…you understood none of it.

“Shouldn’t you be working? Doing spidey stuff?” He asked, looking over at you, his eyes softening at the way you looked up at him. He brushed it off quickly though.

“My canon events are safe,” you assured. “Besides, I’ll be notified if anything canon related or otherwise is affected or in jeopardy. So until that happens, I have a clear schedule.”

He just looked away, scanning activity on the screen. “Well, that’s great,” he mumbled under his breath, sarcasm lacing his tone.

“Come on, I’m great company,” you smiled up at him.

“Uh huh.”

You sighed, leaning back in the chair, putting your feet up on the desk. “Well, you’d prefer me over Hobie, at least.”

He grunted, pushing himself off the desk and turning towards you. Grabbing both your ankles, he yanked them off the desk, pulling you closer to him, your legs either side of his body as the wheely chair rolled swiftly towards him. “Look, as much as I love the cute little attitude you seem to have,” he leaned closer towards you, his cologne filling your senses. “I have work to do. And you’re a distraction. So either be quiet, or go elsewhere, okay?”

Words escaped you. And Miguel realised exactly what he’d just said. He also realised he’d essentially caged his body between your thighs. You gazed up at him, he noted a little surprise in your eyes, as well as something else. But he couldn’t put his finger on it. Letting go of your ankles, he stepped away. You stood from your chair.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to be a distraction now, would I, O’Hara?” You asked, a little smirk playing at your lips. You patted his chest and walked away.

He hated that he watched you leave, completely ensnared by you as you left the room.

You stayed at the base that night, knowing that Miguel had his room set up there, a few doors down from the meeting room. You planned to go back to your own dimension, but it was quite boring back there right now. So you hung out in the meeting room, suspended upside down from the ceiling. Tracking the activity of your own city, you were met with absolutely fuck all. No activity. No spikes in crime or anything altered on your own timeline.

Sighing, you dropped down to the floor, preparing to go back to your own timeline. You would have said goodbye to Miguel, but you weren’t exactly sure he wanted to talk to you right now.

Just as you were about to leave, you heard something. Your ears perked and the hairs on your arms stood up. It was coming from Miguel’s room. You shouldn’t have inspected, it wasn’t your place. But your feet took you there anyway. Outside his door, you pressed your ear up against it, listening intently. At first you thought he was communicating with someone. LYLA, perhaps. Until you heard something else. Groaning? Grunting, maybe. But then you heard moaning. And he was saying something. Your name. Your hand covered your mouth so that he wouldn’t hear you. But he sure as hell would have sensed your presence. Wouldn’t he?

You stepped back, knocking into the wall behind you. His noises halted almost immediately. Hearing his footsteps approach the door, you backed away quickly, but he opened the door before you were completely out of sight. His pupils were blown wide, his shirt discarded and his chest glistening slightly with sweat.

“I thought you’d left,” he said, his voice low, gruff.

“I stuck around, kept an eye on the screens for a little while,” you admitted. It wasn’t a lie, for the most part. “Thought you would have heard me, or known I was still here.”

He cocked his head in confusion.

“Spidey senses? I always know when someone’s around,” you smiled. But he shook his head in disagreement.

“I don’t have those. Wasn’t bitten by a spider, you see,” he revealed, and your eyebrow quirked. “How long have you been stood out here?”

Your heart dropped. “Um…not long. Was just about to leave anyway, so you get back to…whatever it is you were doing. I’ll see you around, O’Hara.”

You turned to leave until his voice stopped you. “Or you could…stay?” You didn’t turn around at first, but you felt him come up behind you. Close. Very fucking close. His heat radiated onto your back. “I’ve been cold towards you, I know that. I haven’t meant to be.”

“So why have you been?” You spun on your heel, almost stumbling as you came into contact with his bare chest. But his hand on your waist caught you.

“If I let myself enjoy your company as much as I do, I’ll become distracted from my life’s work,” he let his head drop.

Confidence suddenly overtook you and you placed a hand on his cheek, tilting his head back up to look at you. “Sometimes a distraction is what you need to be able to do your job.”

He chuckled. The first time you’d ever seen him do that. “You saying I do my job wrong?”

“I said sometimes, O’Hara,” you smiled. “But maybe a distraction is what you need right now.” Taking his hand, you led him back to his room. You expected him to pull away, but he didn’t, he followed. Miguel shut the door behind him and your eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, the only light source coming from his desk light. His hands found your waist from behind you, his breath on your neck.

“A distraction sounds pretty good right about now,” he purred in your ear, kissing your neck softly. You melted into his touch, your legs becoming a puddle. He kissed down your neck to your shoulder and you turned your head, letting your lips meet his in a gentle kiss.

This was the gentlest you’d ever seen him. Usually his walls were up, and he was cold and distant from everyone. But here…here he was entirely exposed. To you. You walked him slowly to the couch in the corner of the room, the backs of his knees hitting it before he sat down, his hands pulling you closer.

“You said you don’t have spidey senses, right?” You asked, standing before him. He looked up at you expectantly.

“What are you getting at here, princesa?”

“Just something I want to try.” You pulled the thick ribbon from your hair that tied it up in a bun whenever you were out of your suit. Your hair fell down to your shoulders, falling in front of your face.

“Oh, we’re trying things? So early on?” He joked, a small smile in his voice.

“Oh shush, I think you’ll like it,” you held the ribbon in front of him and he realised what you wanted to do. He nodded, his trust put in you. Covering his eyes, you tied it around the back of his head. “Just have a little faith.”

“In you, I do.”

You knelt before him, so thankful he was just in sweatpants. You weren’t very good at handling belts. Wrapping your fingers around the waistband of his sweatpants, you felt him tense up lightly. “Easy, O’Hara. Just relax, okay?”

You looked up to see him nod. Smiling, you continued, pulling his sweatpants down to his ankles. He’d opted to go commando under those pants, and you stifled a gasp at what awaited you beneath the fabric.

Shit. you knew he was a big guy…but you didn’t expect him to be that big of a guy. Miguel’s cock sprang out of its confinement, hard, long and thick. For a moment you worried yourself that you wouldn’t be able to take all of him. Or even…most of him. But you were too pent up and needy for him that you pushed past it.

Wrapping your hand around the base of his cock, Miguel shuddered at your touch. He didn’t want to admit it, but it had been a while for him. Having only his own hand to work with, he couldn’t fathom how good it felt to be your hand instead.

But fuck, the second he felt your mouth envelope his dick, he couldn’t stop the moan that escaped his throat. You loved it, the raw feeling behind his groaning and whimpering. Taking him further in your mouth, you sucked slowly, deeply, your tongue circling the tip so his legs tightened under your hand where it laid, resting on his thigh.

You felt his hand travel to your head, fingers entangling in your hair and gripping it with a firm hold. He didn’t push, he just held you there. The more of him you took, the tighter his grip got. His panting and moaning was like music to your ears.

“Shit…shit…” he breathed, raising his hips up off the couch, his dick pushing deeper down your throat. He was about to come, on the verge of it, you could feel it. His head fell back against the top of the couch, his teeth gritted against each other as he felt the precipice of his orgasm fast approaching. “Wait, wait, wait.” He spoke quickly, racing through his words.

You did stop. Pulling away and looking up at him. “Are you okay?” You asked, worried you’d gone too far, too fast.

“I’m fine,” he panted, head tipped towards the ceiling. “But…” Miguel pulled down his blindfold so it hung loosely around his neck. He gazed at you, his eyes coated in a thin sheen, glossed over. “I’m not gonna be the only one who gets to feel this good though.” He pulled you up and onto his lap. You felt his dick twitch beneath you as your face was ever so close to his, inches away from one another. “So now it’s your turn, princesa.”

Miguel smirked, his hand sliding down the front of your pants, gliding under your panties and came into contact with your bare skin. Your breath shortened as his fingers drifted down to your pussy, already soaked from the moments previously, and he smirked at the wetness he felt there. “Already this wet, hmm? Guess it’s not going to take long for you to be able to take me, huh?” He was so smug. So confident. In any other instance you’d find it annoying, but right now you couldn’t have found it more attractive. All you could muster up was a quiet, desperate please.

He smiled, pushing a finger deep inside you and pulling a soft moan from you. God, he could listen to that on repeat for the rest of his life. Moving his finger in and out at a quickened pace, curving his fingertip to hit that sweet spot you could never reach yourself, he felt you clench around him, your eyes begging for more when your mouth couldn’t form the words. He happily obliged, adding a second finger. The palm of his hand grinding against your clit with the added pressure of his fingers fucking you was driving you to the edge quicker than you thought possible.

He knew it too. Your eyes rolling back, your hips shifting to rock with the rhythm of his fingers inside you. You were close.

“You want to come, angelita?” He asked, his words dripping with want, with need. For you. He watched you nod frantically. But he slowed his fingers, his other hand gripping your jaw gently, but firmly. “On my fingers, or on my cock, hmm?” He saw the way your eyes lit up at that proposal. “Oh, honey. I think I already know what you want.”

He didn’t even try and take off your pants, he tore right through them instead, his talons scraping against your skin, but never breaking your skin. Throwing your torn clothes across the room, he lifted you up so you hovered above him. Miguel grabbed his cock by the base, running it along your pussy, soaking the tip with your wetness.

Words escaped you and your mind went numb when he first pushed his cock into you. At first it felt overwhelming, the size of him frying your senses and fogging your head. Only at about half way in, Miguel started to feel resistance, and the look of shock and the overwhelmed tint in your eyes showed him why. “Just relax, conejita. You’re taking me so well,” he whispered, one hand on your thigh and the wrapped around your back.

His praise and encouragement cleared your clouded thoughts. You nodded, taking your time and sinking lower and lower until you reached the base. Letting out a deep breath, you gave yourself a few moments to adjust. Miguel smiled up at you. “Atta girl,” he mumbled, a smirk on his lips. He shifted his hips, rising up into you, purposefully grinding his dick up into your soaking pussy. Fuck, he loved the way you bit your lip to stifle your noises as to not make too much noise. Not that anyone else was here anyway. He wanted to hear you.

You started rocking back and forth on his dick, the tip hitting something devastatingly sweet every time and it sent shockwaves through your entire body. You wrapped your arms around his neck, nails scratching into his back, digging crescent shaped indents into his skin as you rolled your hips quicker and quicker. Miguel’s hands both found their way to your hips, guiding your movements and controlling your speed. His head dipped down as he kissed your neck, taking your skin between his teeth and biting gently, sucking deep marks into your neck.

His lips trailed down, passing your collar bones, down your sternum to your breasts. His tongue circled your perked nipple before he sucked identical purple marks into your breasts, kissing along to the other breast as he did, giving the same treatment to both.

Mumbles and whimpers fell from your lips, flooding the room with your desperation for Miguel’s touch, for Miguel’s praises, for Miguel’s hands all over you. His fingers dug tighter into your hips, grinding you against him hard, his cock reaching the perfect places inside you to make you squirm, to make you cry out his name.

“You gonna come for me, princesa? Hmm?” He asked, a smidge of cockiness in his tone. He was good. And he knew he was good. You couldn’t deny it, not knowing that even though you were already so overwhelmed by the size of him, mixtures of pleasure and pain that balanced one another out perfectly, you couldn’t deny that you weren’t already craving more of him.

But the second he started raising his hips to meet yours, you lost it. Your head fell against his shoulder, and his lips attacked your neck, pressing soft kisses there, biting gently. His hand drifted between your bodies, putting pressure against your clit with his thumb. That’s when your body began to unravel, your senses skyrocketed. You gripped the back of his neck so tightly as you felt your orgasm growing closer, your thighs shaking and your movements started to falter in both speed and momentum.

Miguel sensed it it too, his hands on your hips becoming the sole thing after a point, that kept you grinding on his cock. He was close too. But he held out with all of his focus. Wanting you to come for him first. Needing you to. “Come on, honey,” he purred in your ear, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Be a good girl and come for me.”

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. You let out a small cry, Miguel’s name playing on your tongue. Your orgasm washed over you. It wasn’t gentle either, like it usually was whenever you touched yourself. This was powerful. This was like a tsunami. It tore through you, electrifying your veins and causing you to clench hard. Your thighs caged him, closing tighter around his body as you clung to him. You bit into Miguel’s shoulder, hard enough to draw blood, but it didn’t stop him from fucking up into you. He didn’t stop. Not until your orgasm had finally satisfied the both of you. Your body collapsed against him, your chest heaving as you tried to regain all of your breath, filling your lungs to their capacity.

“You okay, conejita?” He asked, raking his fingers up and down your spine, kissing the side of your head. He chuckled lightly as you just nodded, a quiet groan all you could muster up at an attempt for words.

You lifted your head, leaning back to look at him. A gasp escaped your throat as he shifted beneath you once more, his cock twitching. “You didn’t…” Your words trailed off as you looked fown for a split second.

Miguel shook his head. “No.”

“Why not?” You asked, a mixture of curiosity and a little embarrassment lacing your tone.

He smiled, leaning back, running his hands up and down your thighs. “You think I can only last one round, honey? I’m offended,” he laughed jokingly. Your eeys widened a little, and you were slightly concerned you wouldn’t be able to handle more right now. Not if it was as good as that. “Don’t look so afraid, baby,” he whispered, lifting you and your legs wrapped around his waist. He carried you to the bed on the other side of the room, laying your down gently, your head settling comfortably into the pillows as he climbed on top of you, his body between your thighs. “I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

You huffed a soft laugh. “Miguel, I don’t think you know the meaning of gentle.”

He matched your soft laugh with one of his own. Rolling his eyes, he leaned even closer to you, your lips almost touching. “I’ll try to be gentle. At first.” His eyes darkened in the dimmed room and your heart beat just a little faster. “But don’t think it’ll take me more than five minutes to fuck you into this bed until all you can do is scream my name.”

#miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #spiderman #spiderman into the spiderverse #into the spider verse #oscar isaac #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #atsv #atsv miguel #atsv x reader #spiderman x reader #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel ohara fanfiction #smut #fluff #fanfic #fanfiction

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msmoony7 · 2 months

Text

New Beginnings

Summary: Y/N transfers to Hogwarts from Ilvermorny and finds herself intrigued by the quiet, sandy haired boy Remus Lupin.

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader, reader not in a specific house

Word Count: 1.4 K

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

masterlist

You wake up in your bed to the sun shining and the birds chirping through your opened windows. You arrived late last night to Hogwarts and slept in a little later than you had liked; It was nearly lunch time. Classes are starting tomorrow, so you are planning to explore the castle a little before then to get used to your new surroundings. Transferring schools in your 5th year was difficult, so you were hoping to make the adjustment as easy as possible for yourself.

Since there are no classes today, you’re free to dress however you like. You opt for a pair of light blue jeans, black converse, and a blue sweater with some vertical stripes over your chest. You sit at your desk and do your usual makeup and hair routines before unpacking the rest of your things. First you unpack your records and record player. You put on your favorite album - The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars by David Bowie - while you finish unpacking. You got lucky and your dorm has a big bay window with a built-in seat with cushions and large bookshelves built into the wall around it, which is great for you due to your love of reading and insane collection of books. Your bed is in the middle of the room with a huge bed frame and blue curtains draping from the top. After you are all unpacked, you decide to make your way down to the Great Hall for lunch.

You only have to stop and ask 6 kids along the way if you were going in the right direction. The ever-changing staircases made for a confusing walk there. But finally, you make it down the last set of steps and can see the Great Hall in the near distance. You’re about to turn into the hall when you stop in your tracks as you hear a great boom in the hall followed by smoke and yelling. You see a guy with long jet-black hair run past you first with a glasses wearing brunette on his trail, followed by a shorter boy with blonde hair.

“Come on, Moony, we’re gonna get caught!” you hear the first boy yell. You’re about to turn around to walk into the Hall and see what’s going on but before you could do so, you hear an “oh, shit” and as you turn fully around, are knocked to the floor by someone running full speed out of the hall. You hit the ground and lock eyes with a sandy haired boy who's laying fully on top of you. You’re staring at each other for a solid five seconds before the blonde boy yells at him.

“Moony, hurry up! Snape’s coming!”

Moony, who you gather to be the boy currently laying on you, quickly helps you up, mutters a quick “sorry” and runs up the stairs to follow the other three boys. You can hear them muttering and making fun of him for falling onto you as they’re running away, and you see “Moony” trip again before all four boys disappear up the steps. Just as they disappear, a raven-haired boy with smoke and powder all over him storms out of the hall and up the steps. You make out that he must be Snape and that the explosion was definitely caused by those boys.

You finally gather yourself and you see three girls standing by the doorway who must’ve watched everything go down.

“Quite a tumble you took there. That’s Moony, he’s a klutz,” says a girl with dark, curly hair and a darker complexion, “My name’s Mary. Are you new here?”

“Yeah, my name’s Y/N, I just got here last night.

“Ahhh you’re American! I’m Marlene,” the second girl speaks up. She has blonde hair and a really cool vibe to her.

“You can come eat with us, if you’d like. I’m Lily, by the way,” says the final red headed girl.

The four of you walk into the hall and you cannot contain your amazement at what you’re met with. The ceiling is the highest ceiling you’ve ever seen, and it’s enchanted to look like the sky. Unlike your old school, which had tables divided by the houses, this hall had numerous smaller rectangular tables so that you could sit with whomever you liked. The four of you grab a table and start eating your meal.

“Those boys are the biggest troublemakers in the school,” Mary says, “Always pulling pranks.”

“Yeah, we still love them though,” Lily replies.

“You more than others,” Marlene says to her as she nudges and winks at her.

Lily blushes in response, “James, the one wearing glasses, yeah, he’s my boyfriend. A real sweetheart. Unless you’re Severus, of course.”

“I take it that’s the boy that had all the smoke on him?”

“Yep, you’d be correct. The boys tend to overreact, but he really isn't a nice person. Steer clear of him,” Mary says.

“Noted. So, that guy, Moony, what’s up with him?”

“Ooooo, Y/N’s got a crush already?” Marlene snickers towards you, making you blush.

“Not a crush, but from our five second interaction, I think he’s pretty cute.”

“You should go for it,” Marlene says, “In all our years at Hogwarts, I don’t think I’ve seen him talk to girls that weren’t us for more than a minute. I’d say you have high odds.”

“Oh, I can’t do that. I’m too shy,” you contest.

“Well, that’s perfect! He’s pretty shy himself. What do you do in your free time?” Lily asks.

You list some of your hobbies for the girls, including reading, writing, and music.

“Well, aren’t you the perfect girl for him. He loves all those things. Tell me you like Bowie,” Mary says. You say nothing in response, shocked that they can read you so well, which causes the girls to yell. “You ARE the perfect girl for him. Come we’ll show you around the castle and then we’re sending you off to him.”

Before you can fight them on this, they’re pulling you around the castle showing you every nook and cranny. You’re grateful for this; You wouldn’t have been able to find your way around otherwise. They show you all the classrooms, take you on a tour of the grounds outside, up all the towers, and finally, you end the tour at the library.

“This is the library,” Lily says, “Since you like to read, I’m sure you’ll spend so much time here. Lucky for you, this is Moony’s favorite place! And if my calculations are correct, he should be in there right now. C’mon, let’s go find him!”

Lily is dragging you inside, and she’s a lot stronger than she looks. They drag you to the far back corner of the library in a hidden nook, revealing the sandy haired boy from before sitting on a couch, nose deep in a book. He doesn’t hear you guys approaching at first and once you guys are a few feet away from him, he pulls his head out of his book and looks up. He immediately locks eyes with you, causing both of you to blush.

“Gotta go, bye!” Marlene says as she pulls Lily and Mary away from you, leaving you alone with the boy. The two of you still staring at each other, not knowing what to say.

“Hi,” you say breathlessly.

“Hi,” he says back.

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celtic-crossbow · 10 months

Text

• It’s Alright, It’s Okay

• And Now We Get to Fly

• Defeated After All

• Who Needs Forever?

• You’re My Gravity

• Skin You With My Tongue 🔥

• Don’t Chase the Dead

• Cerberus

• I’m Your Fatal Sin

• I Can Sabotage Me By Myself

• You’ll Always Be My Thunder

• Love You with My Hands Tied 🔥

• Write Love Letters Across Your Lips 🔥

• Uh-Oh, There was a Monster in My Bed 🔥

• Some Things, Only God Can Forgive

• I Get My Lovin’ on the Run

• I’m Hot, Sticky Sweet 🔥

• My Blood is Singing with Your Voice 🔥

• A Sting in the Way You Kiss Me 🔥

• In Blood and Tears, a Thousand Times

• Bring Us Back to the Heroes We Were

• Sacrifice Yourself and Let Me Have What’s Left

• Let’s Get Lost Chasing Stars

• You’re Beautiful and Sick Like Me

• I’d Break the Back of Love for You 🔥

• The Rhythm of This Trembling Heart 🎃

• When Your Line is Crossed, I Get Off 🔥

• One Step, Not Much but It Said Enough

• You Would Break Your Back to Make Me Break a Smile 🔥

• Sins & sweetness 🔥

• I’m a Screamer, Baby, Make Me a Mute 🔥

• Your Beauty Never Ever Scared Me 🔥

• It’s a Loud and Dark World, but I Think I Found the Light

• Right on the Wrong Side of It All

• Let Your Heart Be Light 🎄

• Is It Easier for You to Say You Never Loved Me Anyway?🔥

• Remember My Heart, How Bright I Used to Shine

• The Itsy Bitsy Spider

• You’re Holy to Me 🔥

• I’ll Leave My Love Between the Stars

• The Itsy Bitsy Spider, Part Deux

• I Don’t Ask Much, I Just Want You 🔥

• Do You have No Idea You’re in Deep? 🔥

• You Get Me Closer to God 🔥

• You Love Me for Everything You Hate Me For 🔥

• My War is Over

• Are You Reckless or Not?

• The World Keeps Getting Hotter, Baby, but I’m Too Cool to Die

• I Might Change Your Life, I Might Save My World

• To Know This Will Conquer Me

• But Put Together, the Cracks We'll Close In

• Those Summer Nights, When I Look in Your Eyes 🔥

• I Pound the Walls, I Shake the Cage

• For You, I’d Bleed Myself Dry

• If I get a Little Prettier, Can I be Your Baby?🔥

• I am the Mess You Chose

• We Were Built to Fall Apart and Fall Back Together

• You’re Pushing Me Sideways, but You Won’t Let Go

• I Don’t Want to Play with Such a Price to Pay 🔥

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frissy · 1 year

Text

Earth42! Miles Morales x fem!spider/1610!Reader

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

ATSV SPOILERS

• possessive Miles

• mentions of death

• Some OOC 42 Miles

• You and Earth 1610 Miles are not in a romantic relationship

• Jealous Earth 42 Miles

• Not proofread!!

• Google translate is used in Part 1-3, forgive me for mistakes, and let me know of said mistakes

Your eyes slowly opened. And you were in someone’s bed. The room was cold, and very dull.

On the wall you noticed there was board of photos. family photos, but most of the photos, were photos of you. You, with someone who looked just like Miles.

Through the crack of the door, you could see Miles. Your Miles unconscious, tied to a punching bag.

But then you heard heavy footsteps. And someone came into the room, wearing a sort of suit. It looked like the prowler’s.

”You’re awake.” The voice was distorted.

You looked at the figure, he was shrouded in darkness. He came closer. “Please. Let us go.. we have to save someone.”

The figure shook his head. And his mask came off, with a hissing sound. That’s when you saw his face.

“[name]...” He said, he sounded so gentle. Like your name was a melody to him.

You had fear in your eyes, mixed with confusion. He seemed to take notice of this, because next, he introduced himself.

“I’m Miles Morales. But you can call me the prowler, niña bonita.” he walked into the light, his face becoming more visible. “What? There’s no way. You would never be the prowler!” You looked at him, shocked and confused.

Hues of red and purple shined onto his face. Highlighting his hazel eyes. He looked different from your Miles. He even sounded different.

His hair was braided, and his physique was completely different from the Miles you knew. His face was sharper, and his voice was deeper and he kept a narrow gaze. “You’re Miles, wouldn’t.” He pointed to your Miles through the crack of the door. “But I would. And I did.”

Your eyes then darted through the crack of the door to your Miles. You were about to shout out to him so he could wake up.

but you were stopped by the other Miles. He put a hand under your chin, making you face him. “It’s no use to help him. [name]..” he started to caress your cheek.

“Please. Let us go. We just want to go home. We have to save… my Miles’s dad. I’m sorry if I was special to you... but please. Let me and Miles go.” You said, pleadingly.

His face contorted into anger, and jealousy. “He.. he as his Dad too?” He took his hand off your face. And his blood began to boil. He clenched his fists, making his knuckles turn white.

“We have to save him! He’s gonna die and we have to stop it! Please.. please let us go.”You looked deep into his eyes, trying to get through to him.

He furrowed his eyebrows at you.

“Why should I.. why should I let you go when I finally have you back?” He put a hand to your cheek again, caressing it. “How come he gets to have so much?” There was jealousy laced in his voice. “…His Dad, a safe city.. and you. How come he gets it all? When I get nothing. And all that has happened… could’ve been avoided.”

“I’m really sorry. I’m sure you, and the me in this universe had a tight bond. I’m sure we were close friends as I am with my Miles.”

He scoffed. “Friends? [name]. You were my girlfriend.”

Your eyes widened. And a very faint blush crept onto your face.

“I loved you more than anything. I loved you more than life itself. You meant everything to me. I watched you die, and I watched my dad die with you. I watched you to die live on the news.. a building fell on top of you, my dad tried to save you but it was too late.” His voice was shaky now.

“I—“ he wouldn’t let you finish.

“You were the only girl I’ve ever loved… And you were taken from me.” He leaned in closer.

“You can’t even begin to understand how I felt, seeing you appear out of nowhere, with a boy who looks just like me.”

He got even closer.

“A lookalike from an entirely universe who has you? A living you? And you want me to just, let you go? Just like that? When I finally have you back?.” he trailed off, taking his hand off your face, backing away.

He smiled at you. “You look just as beautiful as you did the day I lost you querida. I never thought I would see your face again.”

He looked at your unconscious Miles through the crack of the open door, his face became a deadpan as he looked back over at you.

“I’m not going to lose you again. And nobody is going to take you away from me. Especially that copy of me.”

He brought his attention back over at your unconscious Miles, hatred and resentment in his heart. For what felt like hours, he looked back at you once more.

“And you can’t do anything to stop me.” He turned his back to you, walking out the door, locking it from the outside, you tried getting up, but you fell to the floor.

He had tied your wrists and ankles while you were unconscious. And you haven’t even noticed when you woke up.

You were stuck here, and he’s not going to let you go. .

TO BE CONTINUED

#across the spiderverse #earth 42 #miles morales #spider man: across the spider verse #angst #tw death #oneshot #loss of a loved one #prowler miles #prowler #earth 1610 #across the spider verse spoilers #spiderverse spoilers #possesive love #jealousy #atsv #spiderverse #spiderman #miles morales 42

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qaxqxd · 11 months

Text

Colorful Confession

♡Pair: Spider-noir x spider!female!reader

Genre: barely any angst / fluff

Warning: Injuries, fluff

A/n: just enjoy (wrote on phone that's why it's a little weird)

Summary: You're taking a break from being spider-man. Noir decided to visit your dimension, and he seems to have something to confess.

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Being spider-man was your job, your first job. But you picked up a hobby. Painting was something you liked to do in your free time, but it was also somewhat of a job. You weren’t a famous painter, but you still made money from the paintings you’ve done.

You decide to take a break from being spider-man. Not from your dimension, but just the whole spider-multiverse madness. You just wanted the week off painting, watching movies, and etc.

It's not like you hated staying at Spider HQ, it was just sometimes unbearable. With your boss, Miguel O’hara being all pissy.

There is one spider-man who catches your eyes a lot. Spider-Noir. You’ve only been on one to two missions with him, or you would catch him around the hallways. His trench coat and fashionable fedora make him look amazing.

He was also pretty sweet too. Lovely person you could say. A total gentleman. And maybe you had a little crush on him? No it was pretty big, you couldn’t even breathe when he was around you.

You wanted to draw him at every chance you got, but never had time. Now you finally have the time to do it.

You walked into your small studio, placing your canvas down. You needed a sketch of him. You sat on your stool. Trying to recollect what he looked like.

Blank.

You couldn’t draw an image in your head. It's probably because you don’t see him often. You sigh in slight frustration, before an image of him appears in your thoughts. Your face turned slightly red, since it was somewhat unholy.

You sketch out a few references into your spare notebook. Before actually placing the design onto the canvas. You were going to paint it too, so it’d have some color instead of it being plain.

You put the image of him onto the canvas. Starting with a circle and working your way making a spider-man figure. You made sure to sketch his trench coat and his fedora.

By the time you're done it's midnight. You decide to paint him since the image of him was still fresh in your mind. Before you could place down your first stroke of paint. An orange portal opens up.

Spider-noir?

What is he doing here?

"Hello!" He spoke, his voice a little monotone.

"Noir? What are you doing here?" You spoke trying to hide your canvas.

"I— uhm well." His words were stuttering. Both of your watches lit up for an anomaly. "I'm here for an anomaly!" He quickly said.

"Oh, would you like help then?" You asked. You needed more references of Noir's fighting.

"Yes! I mean— absolutely that would be lovely." You couldn't see that he was smiling, but you could tell he was. You let out a chuckle. Which got him a little red.

"Let me get my suit, requick." You rush to your room to put on your suit and rushed out.

"Ready?" He had his hands in his trench coat. His goggles shining in the light. You gave him a nod and he slid your window open. You both hop out the window and swung to where the anomaly was at.

The anomaly sighting was at an art museum. It was a Vulture. A weird looking purple one. It didn't look like your dimension Vulture. It seems rageful. You looked at Noir.

As he gives you a nod and you both lunge at the Vulture. The Vulture shook Noir off and Noir landed somewhere through the wall. You jump off of the Vulture. Swinging your webs to Noir.

"Noir!" You shove the broken parts of the wall off of him. You were kneeling down to him. His suit seems scratched, but not too badly. Just minor scratches.

"Are you alright?" You helped him up.

"I'm fine." He dusted himself off. You got close to him to see a scar on his neck. You placed your hand on his neck. He leans into your touch. You touch around his scar and examine it.

Noir wincing at your touch but not pulling away. It wasn't a great scar.

"Cmon' let's finish this so I can patch you up." You spoke, clearly concerned about his wounds even if they were small. He nodded, holding onto your hand. You thought he wanted you to remove your hand, so you did just that.

You two got back to the Vulture and took care of him. Lunging at him again and pushing him down enough to web his wings. You called Lyla to take care of the situation, and you both headed back to your place.

"Sit" you pointed to the couch in your art studio, taking off your spider-mask. You went to grab your medkit. When you got back to the studio, Noir had his mask off and his glasses on. His fedora in his lap.

He looked.. so very handsome.

You could quite literally look at him all day. You shook the thought out of your head, blushing slightly. You watched Noir remove his trench coat.

You took the cotton balls out of the kit, you applied some liquid on the cotton balls. Before rubbing it onto Noir's scars. You could hear him hiss in pain, but he's trying his best to sit still.

It was time to clean the scar close to his neck.

"Hey Noir, mind if I get closer?" You asked slightly nervously.

"Ah, if you want to. I don't mind." He spoke. His lap was the closest you could get to his neck, so you scooted onto it. He shifted his legs slightly, moving his fedora.

"A— Are you uncomfortable?" You asked, wanting to know if it was okay.

"It's. Fine, don't worry about it, doll." He spoke with his hand on his mouth. He made room for you to sit on his lap. The nickname he gave you made you more red.

You could feel his hot breath on your forehead, as you tried to clean the scar on his neck. You could feel his breath hitch in pain. You would then wrap his wounds up with band-aids.

"Hey, (Y/n)?" He asked.

"Yes?" You looked around him.

"You draw pretty great."

"W-What?"

"I like that drawing. I looked really nice." He pointed to your canvas.

Oh right. You forgot to throw a blanket over that. He wasn't meant to see it, but he liked it. So… he probably didn't think you were creepy and weird for drawing him.

"You don't think it's weird?" You asked him.

"No, I think it's really lovely. You have great talent." He smiled.

He got your face to turn into a deep red. You were still in his lap. You could feel his heat radiant off. As you put everything back in the kit. Getting off his lap.

"Right, one more thing." You lean down to place a kiss on his head. "That's for being a great patient." You walked out the room, blushing like crazy. You couldn't believe you just did that.

You peek into the room to see Noir's reaction. He was also blushing. As you put up the medkit, you come back to the room.

Noir was still sitting there, flustered.

"You could stay a little longer if you like." You sit on your stool to continue painting, as you apply the first stroke of paint. Noir pulled up a stool right next to you.

"Could I— hold you?" He asked, you obviously said yes to it. And he held you by the waist. His head on your shoulder. You two were blushing like crazy. You couldn't even think about painting.

You applied yellow to the canvas next.

"Is that purple?" He asked, which earn him a giggle from you. You forgot he wasn't the best at colors.

"No, it's yellow." You smiled at the flustered man.

"I knew that, doll." He mumble.

"What about that one?"

"Blue?" He was correct. You gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Good job." You said. Before you could get another word out. Noir place his lips onto yours.

You both let go to catch air.

"I love you." He uttered.

"Me too."

W.C 1.4k

#spider noir x reader #spidernoir x you #spidernoir x y/n #spiderman noir x reader #spiderman noir #spidernoir x reader #spider noir

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thesharktanksdriver · 7 months

Text

Determination! to where the sand blows and where the heart goes (platonic)

Made this for foreshadowing and fun

Decided to do a poem kinda format just for experimenting and symbolism

The next determination! Will take awhile to come out due to my finals coming up so I made this instead.

Wish me luck yall

Once upon a time, a long….Long time ago, Mother spoke of sand

She grew up on a sandy island you know? A large one where water was scarce and rain was a blessing.

She said that the place was beautiful but she never quite felt at home there.

She never was one for the sandy dunes that was the ever-expanding horizon

Sand

Golden particles in the hundreds of millions scattered on the ground, piling up to the size of castles and threading through the air.

“Sand is the crushed up hopes and dreams of wanderers” she told you one day at the beach.

Said material pooling her hands before she let it slip between her fingers and scatter back on the ground.

The golden dust sparkling in the sunlight as she continued.

“It’s uncaring and apathetic to our cries. It’s both soft and course, it’s terrible and it’s beautiful”

As you walk the desert you reflect on her words and find the truth in them

You remember a spring island with sand as soft as flour beneath your feet but now the sand you walk on scorches you’d soles.

Sandcastles were fun but not climbing a mound of sand as big as a castle is a chore.

Your throat is parched and your skin is burned and rubbed bare

Hands coated in sweat that stings your cuts

Despite being in the dunes of shattered hope you keep moving forwards

Down into a valley

Down into the depths of a cave that you instinctually somehow know better than your childhood home.

You can’t even remember that house

You can’t call it a home anymore

It’s forgotten to time and your mind

The open world is your home now

The sea is your bed in which you lay

Ever Drifting

Ever dreaming

This place is made of sandstone and dust and ancient ideals

Intricate carvings decorates the tomb, blood, sweat and tears clearly poured into the effort of doing all of this.

Of chiselling into the stone that leaves their lungs stocked up in dust that chokes them

Of planning out the entire piece that all 4 walls and ceiling connect to one another in artistic harmony

Of using precious stones, diamonds, rubies and sapphires to be set in place to represent the stars

It’s all too beautiful to describe as you slither deeper down into this place

This temple to a god unknown to you (but your not unknown to them)

Glowing stones Illuminate this place

Made into the shapes of 4 pointed stars on the walls that guide your path

You don’t notice they fizzle out behind you as if your the activator of their light

You don’t notice a lot of crucial things in this place

Like for instance why you know which tiles are meant for traps and you don’t see the writing quite literally on the walls that you would understand despite the fact you’ve never seen that language before.

But it doesn’t matter

It makes things more funny for them in the end

Knowing how so much was presented to you but you stubbornly ignored it because of your determination to continue onward

It’s why they liked you

Why they chose you

Why it was fate

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves here, you continued forwards

Deep deep down the spiders thread you go

Whirling and twirling down into the abyss

Will you reach the end?

You don’t know

Not when hawks could snatch you up at any moment in the dark

But your accustomed to that fate

Of having your little spider legs cracked and snapped in half before getting up again

It’s what you did best

So you keep twirling down your web

Descending deep down

The only light being provided by the stones that shine like the glint of silk

Keeping going down the rabbit hole little spider

And see where it goes!

Will you find time?

Or will you find peace of mind?

It doesn’t matter in the end

Not after all your journeys so far

Time is a loop and you’d see it countless times so far

But that’s fine in the end

Perhaps you’d have it no other way since you get to see and meet new friends

So keep going little spider

Deeper in the dark

Fight your fear and shine bright with your spark

Keep going little spider

Or rather Little pearl of the sea with great big starry eyes

You shoulder the world like atlas but why?

You are but a child in mind, body and soul yet the years fly by and you say your not anymore

Things will change little spider who weaves the fate of everyone but their own

Little pearl In the great big sea that floats amungst the waves

Little spark of a match that lights the flames of the revolution

Little hope for the hopeless sinners who pray for redemption

Little star In the night sky that shines the brightest despite its size

Your eyes trail up to a statue at the bottom of the temple, alone and barren in the golden sand that pools around it

And in yellow glowing stone read

“Bright little one, don’t become like the sand you tread. Stay strong. Stay determined little starcatcher”

And you wake up, eyes hazily staring up at the rocking ceiling of wood as your hands clutch at the feather duvet that shields you from the gnawing cold. You blink….and you blink again as you slowly rise and get out of bed.

Everything feels surreal even as you eat breakfast as the men around you all hustle and bustle with talking and drinking. You pick at your food, fork stabbing into a piece of strawberry whilst your eyes stare down blankly at it.

Your still not fully there after that Dream, how can you be?

With a sigh you finally take a bite, you don’t taste the sweet juice of the strawberry coat your mouth, you taste nothing. Just mush you chew down on to make into more mush that you swallow down. You barely feel like you can stomach it, barely feel like you’d should’ve gotten out of bed at all.

It feels like your energy was drained in both a literal and mental sense.

Like everything was sucked out of you and spat out.

Like-

“You alright there little captain?” And like that your brought back to reality as the familiar sound of Roger makes your head snap up. He’s sitting beside you, the usual joyful smile replaced by one of wordy as you stare up at him.

He already knows the answer

He can read you like an open book or the palm of his own hand

But he still asks to see if you want his help

Need his help

Lazily you shake your head. You can’t bother to put in the effort of doing much more and he understands whole heartedly. To be honest he’s surprised your not like this all the time considering all you’ve been through.

He smiles and it reminds you of the sunshine from just rising above the horizon line. Beautiful and bright and joy and warm and understanding.

Your lifted into his arms without needing to ask.

His arms cradle you and the world seems to disappear. Safety and security wrap around you like a blanket, warm and cozy as you seem to melt into his hold. He laughs, jolly and loud in the way that makes you smile as he peers down at you with worry and care.

You fall asleep in his arms and wake up in his cabin tucked away on a fainting couch. Head cushioned by plush tufted velvet as you burrow into the warmth of it and the jackets draped over your shoulders like a blanket.

You feel warm and safe

You feel….at home

Tired eyes gaze up to Roger who works at his desk, you smile and close your eyes once more

Missing his coughing fit then after.

#platonic #determination!#gol d roger x reader #one piece x reader

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stealyourblorbos · 11 months

Photo

Oscuridad

Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader, 1k, Explicit - very little plot, established (secret) relationship, size difference, some power play, feral boyfriend, a bit of breeding kink, allusions to shibari (blink and you miss it), flufforn (they’re drunk on each other okay?), mentions of trauma, PTSD, no Y\N

Summary: Darkness makes all the masks fall.

Creator chose not to list further warnings. By clicking “keep reading” you have agreed that you are over 18 and willing to view Adult Content.

Many thanks to the wonderful @writeforfandoms who kindly agreed to look this one up for me!

You used to be afraid of the dark. Before him.

It turned out, darkness has a handsome face, a couple of clever hands and a deep voice that can whisper endless strings of sweet nothings in your ear, something about mi tesoro or mi vida and dozens of other nicknames you can't find bravery in yourself to look up yet. Darkness became an epitome of toe-curling pleasure that left you breathless every other night, when your bedroom window opens with a soft creak and a herculean figure sneaks inside with a surprising silence and ease, immediately reaching out to you. Darkness makes all the masks fall.

He's so desperate to get closer every single time that his infamous high tech suit glitches in haste and uncovers only random parts of him, leaving the expanse of his ridiculously athletic body shimmering, flashing with tiny stars like the night summer sky. Beautiful, mesmerizing – as is a steady, fluid motion of his hips pressing into you with neverending hunger.

“Too good…” He moans loud and broken, trying to hide his face into the space between your neck and shoulder, as if to curl all of his enormous, muscular form into you.

“Tsk!” You playfully swat his rippling constellations-covered bicep. “It's not me they're all gonna be eyeing tomorrow at work again, Mig. The HQ dorm walls are not that soundproof!”

He only growls in response and with one arm pulls you up flush against his body. Set of perfect fangs slightly bites your exposed nipple, brisk and fast – barely enough to not break the skin but making you yelp in surprise. All subconscious demonstrations of his inhuman strength and sense of control, inhuman as well. You're well aware that he could tear this whole place apart easily and yet his affectionate touches light you up with gentle warmth that makes your heart explode. He doesn't need to know about that, though.

“I asked you to move in ages ago and have been playing along with all this shocking "stay discreet" circus only because you wanted me to...Do they all really think they're being subtle while checking you out?” He whispers hotly, changing the rhythm to a harsher one as if to make a better point, each strong thrust is an emphasis to his words, accompanied by the wet sounds of your mixed arousal. “Should've just wrapped you up in the web and hauled you to my place like some present. Like a real gift you are. You…”

You feel like if he keeps talking like that you're gonna shatter into a swarm of butterflies - or myriads of tiny dancing tropical spiders you two watched in a rainforest on Earth-1610 the other day. So you swiftly silence him by kissing that soft waiting mouth of his, sucking on his tongue lightly and eliciting another obscene moan out of him.

He reluctantly breaks the kiss and strokes your nose with his own, panting against your kiss-swollen lips and looking down, crimson eyes shining under the cobweb of his scandalously thick lashes. One of his clawed palms slides there to the place where you two are joined, relishing in the feeling of you stretched around his heavy girth, slowly caressing your folds, gathering slick and stopping at your clit with just the right amount of pressure and stimulation, making you see stars. “You’re so good, so perfect, baby, I’m not gonna last anymore. Where?”

You’re barely able to keep your eyes open to meet his wanton, half-lidded gaze and manage, tongue faster than remains of your common sense. “Inside me, Mig. Please.”

He hums lowly in approval, slides his huge arms under your knees and pulls so that your legs end up on his shoulders, almost folding you in half with one fluid, easy motion and then lowers his torso to be closer to you. You’ve never felt so full before and open your mouth with a silent moan, fully surrendering to pleasure.

Miguel watches you intently with hungry eyes, alternating movement between long, powerful thrusts and slowly gyrating inside of you. Mindful of not crushing you with that absurd body of his, he puts his weight on the elbow beside your head, hovering over you, and traces your parted mouth with clawed fingers of his free hand. You catch one of them with your lips and suck with abandon. He takes a shuddered breath and closes his eyes for a moment, crooning in that sinful voice of his. “Perfect baby. All mine. So beautiful, so filthy and all mine… Would you really like my cum to trickle down your thighs? so you could still feel me afterwards?”

“Yes,” You moan around his finger, hips trying to meet his inhuman thrusts, oblivious to anything else. “Yes. I love that. I lo…”

He hoarsely roars out your name, steady rhythm faltering for a moment, and the feeling of a warm throbbing deep inside does it for you. You two fall over the precipice, hand in clawed hand. He doesn’t stop though, keeping movement more measured and light, helping you ride out the high until your breathing evens out. Then he sits back on his haunches while staying inside you, huge palms sliding up and down your legs, massaging so they won't turn asleep and gently releasing them on the destroyed bedsheets. You sigh contentedly and he comes back down to hug you and flip you both to the side, nuzzling into your chest and neck. Inhuman, you remind yourself, feeling that he’s hard again.

“Damn you, O’Hara,” You swear half-heartedly while he’s lazily drawing webs on your naked skin with his fingers. “Now I definitely have to move the hell out of here.” He doesn’t even try to hide his winning smile looking down at you, shiny fangs out and all, which still is a rare sighting.

“If I only knew, I'd have done it much much earlier.” He wiggles eyebrows playfully. “So tomorrow? And is the web tying thing still included?”

You gently grab his face, making his pouty lips pucker even more. “Only if Lyla manages to figure out some new techy razor for you. That superhuman stubble of yours, sheesh. I’ve run out of ideas on how to heal and hide skin burns.”

Miguel ponders, looking away and muttering as if to himself. “Maybe you don’t have to hide anything at all…” He searches your eyes in an attempt to lighten up his tone. “I could grow a beard as well, what do you say?”

“So you’ll look like one of those corny porn actors from Earth-199999? No, thank you very much.”

“You’ll still love me anyway, right?” He jokes automatically and goes quiet, realization that it might be too much hitting late.

You meet his sad wounded gaze, a stark contrast with the steely indifferent stare and rock hard jaw expression he wears during daytime, an aftermath of all the numerous losses he experienced. How much can a person lose before they lose themself? But he’s still here. And so are you.

Feeling heat creeping up your neck and cheeks, you silently look him in the eyes and slowly, oh so slowly blink in agreement. You hear him taking a breath he turned out to be holding all this time.

“And I you.” He pulls you closer in his embrace, lips warm against your temple. “In every damn universe.”

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #spider man atsv #spider man 2099 #spider man #across the spiderverse #atsv miguel

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shayyprasad · 5 months

Text

my peter | peter parker

takes place during no way home, tw: cursing maybe, mentions of suicide

i dont i remember the movie, and i couldn't pull it up so enjoy this made up script that loosely follows that plot with multiple time gaps :)

ghostspider!reader (yall the ghostspider was researched for like 15 minutes and i have the most vague understanding of it)

summary: you end up in peter's world... just not your peter's. (takes place during no way home.)

word count: 2.0k-ish words

i didn't know how i ended up here. on second i was there... and then... i wasn't.

i remember falling, i think. from something tall? a building. yeah, a building. no. we were- we were on a clock tower? at the top. and the last thing i remember is a gunshot. shot directly at my webs-wings...?

i was falling, and then i wasn't.

i pulled myself up against the wall of the dark alleyway, shivering as the cold air wrapped itself around me, sending goosebumps down my skin. i simply couldn't remember how i'd gotten here, and it was killing me. i staggered out, my vision blurry. i hovered my hand in the air, faint blue sparks crackling.

my eyes widened when i heard loud honking, and bright lights seared into my line of sight. i opened my mouth to scream, but suddenly a blur of blue and red swung by me, and then my feet weren't in the ground. i buried my nose into the neck of whoever it was, and it only took one thing to figure out who it was.

his smell. he smelled like love and pinewood and all the sweet things. and as creepy as it probably sounded, he smelled distinct, like home. he was home.

he was peter.

even after he'd set me down somewhere, i still let my arms linger for a moment longer. or two.

"uh, ma'am? i-"

my eyes glazed over, because here he was. here was peter. but how? wasn't he dead? my peter was dead, right?

"peter, love, is- is that you? how-... oh my god. i- i thought you were dead- you have no idea how happy i am to see you. i'm actually going crazy, aren't i? you wouldn't believe it. because one second, i'm on the clock tower and then you're here and i'm in an alley. what happened?"

he was stuttering, and clearly struggling to piece together a sentence. "w-who's peter? i'm not- i'm not peter," peter said, laughing nervously.

"can you not, babe? i'm in a dilemma. like, dilemma dilemma. no joking right now. like... you're here. right now. in front of me... but... you're dead."

"i'm not peter, and not dead." he added.

"hon, we've literally been over this. i know you're spider-man. remember when i walked into you changing out of the suit? because, like, not to brag, i knew something was up."

"look, lady, i've got no idea who you are, but you need to chill. i don't know who you think i am, but i'm certainly not him. please let me take you home, or to your asylum, or wherever it is that you live."

"pete, this isn't funny."

"yeah, i get that. and i'm not peter."

"yes, you are. you're peter parker, age nineteen, you live with your aunt, and you swing around in speedos all day for fun. i think i know who my fucking boyfriend is, all right? now tell me what's going on, like, right now."

he was speechless, and i took that as an opportunity to rip his mask off his face, causing him to yelp in shock. i could see anger knitted onto his eyebrows, and tucked fiercely behind his eyes. "what the hell-!"

in every way possible, he was peter benjamin parker. except one.

i ran my thumb over his left cheekbone, brushing the spot gently.

my peter parker had a scar across that part of his skin, and i knew that because i kissed him there every morning. right? ...right?

so what on earth was going on?

"you- you don't..." i took a half step back, and i knew he said something, but i couldn't hear him. my heart was thudding so loudly in my chest, i could hear it in my ears. when i turned around, i saw a large building, and on it was a giant "a", lit up and shining like a christmas tree.

since when was that there? since when was...?

and the more i looked, the more i could pick things out. many, many things. like the fact that there was a delmar's? as far as i knew, that didn't exist. it didn't... it wouldn't- but then what was i looking at? what was happening?

my head was aching, and it felt like the migraine i had would kill me.

fuzzy images swirled around in my brain, pressed towards the back of my head.

"-under arrest."

"she can't-"

screaming.

"-murdered harry-"

"he tried to-"

"-killed peter.

"peter-... suicide-"

"no-"

fuzzy again.

more screaming.

"-doesn't justify her actions-"

"she-"

god, the screaming. it was drilling itself into my head, burning into my memory. and it wouldn't stop. it wouldn't- wouldn't stop.

peter was dead. harry was dead. and i was wanted for- no. no, no, no, this couldn't be happening. i was- i-

i took another step forward and i felt the the floor behind me disappear. only then did it hit me that i was on the high piller of a big bridge. i heard a thwip behind me. and i was pulled back, my back hitting something. tilting my head up, i saw peter's (was it even him?) confused expression, before it morphed into something of understanding. like he knew somthing i didn't.

"you're right. i am peter parker. but i'm not your peter parker. i, uh, i'm not really sure how to explain it, but this isn't your universe."

"i- i don't-"

"i know, i know. i can help you, but only if you trust me. can you do that?"

i didn't even comprehend the fact i was nodding, because not even a second later, i was holding onto him for dear life and swinging.

things had happened (not many) since i'd met him. met? was that the right word? because i'd met him before, and god, i'd done a little more than just love him. but i think this was different. maybe because i... i was in a different universe? multiverse? he tried to explain it to me, but my brain still hadn't caught up.

also, i cried.

a lot.

and then i stopped. because my tear ducts were dead, and it didn't feel real. so i ignored anything that had already happened, and focused on what was about to happen.

everything was hazy, and i couldn't figure it out.

for some reason, being near this peter made me feel safe. because he looked the same, talked the same, and acted the same. i pulled his hands to me, holding them in mine. my lips were pressed in a thin line, and my eyes were watering, briming with tears.

he could tell i was scared. i think he was, too, because he didn't let go. he stayed by me.

when would i go home? go back to peter? not any peter, my peter. was i even going to get to go home?

i wasn't alone here. we were in some... basement? it doesn't matter. anyways, there were other people. three were in some weird cell thing, and there was a boy, maybe around peter's age, talking to another man.

he was tall and had a fancy looking cape around him that i could only wish i had. he was awesome, i decided.

"hey, uh, girl," he nodded towards me, and on instict i sat up a little straighter. "do me a favor, yeah?" he asked me, but i got the sense that it was rhetorical, so i didn't answer. "go- go stand over there," the man squinted and pointed his finger toward a small corner, secluded slightly."

"dr. strange?" peter inquired, "what are you-"

"uh-bup-bup-bup. no talking, spiderling."

i made brief contact with the curly hair boy and dropped my hands, standing up to do what he was saying. at this point, i'd figured that it was better not to question cape guy. but the second i got there, i hear a whoosh of air behind me. turning around, i saw that they were trapped in the same translucent cage.

"hey!" peter yelled, "what the fuck did you do? does it look like she's of any harm at all?"

i paused. they weren't in it. i was. sucking in a breath, i stumbled backwards, hitting the wall. i just wanted to go home. i didn't ask for this. i didn't ask for any of this. i just wanted to go home. to peter. to my peter.

"what's the point, anyways?" strange retorted. "she can't go home, now can she? and she sure as hell can't stay here."

peter didn't say anything, so strange continued. "she's gonna die, peter, and there's nothing we can do." he looked at me, "i'm sorry."

"no," i murmured, so quietly i was suprised to hear myself. "you aren't sorry. don't shit yourself. you don't care. and why would you? this doesn't concern you, you selfish bastard."

"she can stay here," ned piped up. "with us. s-she can help us- an-and..."

"yeah!" peter exclaimed. my heart beat a little faster then.

strange sighed and shook his head, "i don't think you understand the consequences-"

"so what do i do then? go ahead, enlighten me. take her home to die? because, yeah, that makes me a great hero."

"kid, it's not about-"

"she's staying. she's helping us send them home... and then- and then she can stay." he looked over at me, "you do want to stay, right?"

i shrugged. what was left at home for me anyways? death row? maybe i could have a fresh start. here, with... peter. could he be my peter?

"yes. i do."

"then it's settled, let her out," ned declared.

pete and i were outside, on the roof. we weren't talking, but the silence between us was enough. i lit small blue sparks in my hand, playing with them. it was nice. it was comforting.

"so, uh- woah. that- that's awesome!"

i looked over at him. "huh? oh. yeah. i'm like you, but not."

he looked confused, so i took it upon myself to elaborate.

"well, you're spider-man. i'm- i'm ghost spider. long story. don't wanna go into it."

"it's okay. i can't do that. i can stick to walls," he grinned, making me snicker.

"oh, what a skill."

"how'd you get here?" peter asker, once the giggles died down.

i sucked in a breath, "harry osborne? i don't think you have one. he was my peter's best friend. got into an argument because harry was sick and he needed peter's blood to... i dunno, heal? get better? anyways, peter wouldn't give it to him because of the possible effects his blood could have, because of the spider bite."

he nodded, signaling me to continue, "harry pulled some crazy shit, turned into a crazy flying green man... and... he killed my peter." my voice cracked towards the end.

"i- i'm so sorry."

"it's okay. harry made it look like a suicide, but i knew. i knew and that was enough. harry owed oscorp, which is like the stark industries. who's gonna pin it on a rich white man? no one. i guess i had enough... and i killed him. the world found out and they all wanted ghost-spider dead. so... yeah. i don't really remember how exactly, but i fell from a clock tower. i know that if i tried, i could've saved myself. but i- i didn't want to."

"i'm sorry." he said again, because what else was there to say? "i lost my... you."

"what?"

"my mj. strange says there's a version of every person in every alternate universe. mj was you. i couldn't save her."

"that's the worst part of this job. you can't save the ones that matter the most."

"yeah," he murmured solemnly.

"i'm glad that if i'm stuck here, i'm stuck here with you."

he smiled, dropping his head onto my lap, and i quietly played with his hair.

"oh my god. we did it. we- we did it!"

"yeah," he said quietly.

"oh, peter, i'm so, so, so sorry. about- about all this. about may, and about the whole world, well, except me, forgett-"

"it's okay," peter smiled softly, pulling me close to him. "because... at least i got something good out of it," and with that, i'm proud to say, he kissed me.

yes, we were still grieving. but it would be okay. because we'd do it together.

my peter.

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #peter parker #spiderman #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #fluff #angst #spider man no way home

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kairiscorner · 10 months

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I want to see a fic that is basically the Sleeping Beauty once upon a dream scene except with Reader x Noir pls.

hello anon !! sure thing >:D man this song's an earworm ngl, I HOPE YOU LIKE THISSSS <333

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

we met once upon a dream — spider noir x reader (sleeping beauty inspired fic)

summary: you swore you knew him from somewhere, sometime; you felt a little weird seeing him again though, like he's a stranger, but... a familiar stranger. word count: 1,192 a/n: this was such a cute concept like owemji I WANNA MAKE ONE FOR MIGUEL NEXT of course you do hayop na kairi ka at siyempre magiging angst siya kasi oo

the clacking of heels and murmuring of hushed conversations and giggles in the ballroom was silent, yet deafening to you. you couldn't remember anymore why you agreed to attending this ball or gala or whatever fancy word your friend called it, you were honestly just here for the free liquor, everything else, you could do without. you felt so out of place there, with your most expensive apparel looking like mere rags to the attendees of this shindig; you opted to just stand at the corner and nick a few glasses of wine, champagne, or some other foreign liquors that tasted too tangy, sour, or bourgeois to you.

"i know you, i walked with you once upon a dream."

"what a slow night, huh? they promised it'd be the party of the century, but... i think they forgot to add the 'slumber' before the 'party'." a deep, husky voice joked while you were preoccupied with the bubbles in your champagne. you finally looked up as you heard that voice, your ears perking up the minute you heard him speak. you were greeted to the sight of a tall, fair complexioned young man with black, slicked back hair and round rimmed glasses. he had a noticeable smile, one that only seemed to brighten up the place more than the glass chandeliers and lamps in the ballroom. "oh, sorry, i didn't notice you there." you apologized as the man chuckled. "don't worry about it." he reassured you as he leaned next to you against the wall.

"i know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam."

there was something about this man... he felt familiar somehow, but no name came to mind, nor any place or street when you looked at him. he felt familiar, but you had no idea just who he was. you looked into his eyes, and... you saw something in those beautiful, grayish brownish eyes of his that shone under the chandelier's light; it was shining and almost speaking to you, asking you if you remember him.

"and i know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem,"

"um... care to, uh–" "dance?" you asked him in a slightly sarcastic tone with a sly smile on your face, waiting for him to chuckle it off and ask you if you wanted to get some more liquor like you hoped, but... he instead blushed. he blushed and, from the tips of his ears, down to the bit of his neck that wasn't shunned by his collar, he was covered in a bright pink and red. a charismatic, yet evidently flustered, smile was on his face when you asked that; his eyes grew larger as he rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. "you're too good at reading people..." he muttered with a chuckle as you giggled back at him.

you set your wine glass down and gently took his hand in yours. you raised an eyebrow and smiled at him. "what're you waiting for? the night's young, seize the opportunity to dance with me, mister." you encouraged as he smiled to match your energy and set his own glass down as he followed you on the dance floor. "i'm no mister, i'm... i'm fairly young." he tried to convince you as you ignored his babbling and placed his other hand on your waist, with him shivering in your stead. you laughed a little at his skittishness. "relax, i'm only here to dance, i won't bite, just make sure not to step on my toes, or i will start biting." you teased as he chuckled again. "feisty, i love it." he complimented you as a new song started up, and you recognized it as a slow love song from a movie you loved as a child.

"is that..." "the score for sleeping beauty? i recognized it, too." he said with a slight smile. you looked at him with an impressed grin. "a hundred points, you know your stuff, mister...?" "parker, peter benjamin parker." he finally introduced himself. and you couldn't help yourself, you gasped a little louder and abrupt than you intended. "peter...? peter parker?" you repeated as peter's eyes grew bigger at your visible astonishment. "why, yes... um, is something the matter?" he asked you as your mouth was hung open slightly.

no wonder that smile seemed so familiar to you, it was the smile of the boy who stood up for you when you were being bullied in elementary school. he was the boy who kept you company at lunchtime, who helped you with your homework, who tied a bow in your hair when you felt ugly about your haircut... the boy who asked you out to prom but was too late, and you went with some other boy who was interested in you. he was the sweetest boy you ever knew, and all this time... he came back into your life, just at the most unexpected time.

"but if i know you, i know what you'll do,"

you danced along with him, accidentally stepping on his toes as opposed to him stepping on yours. he chuckled as you apologized hastily, your hands shaking as he held you, your body tensing up as he swayed you. "are you... okay?" he asked you as you seemed despondent at first. "i... i'm sorry i didn't wait for you to ask me out at prom." you muttered.

peter heard your apology and leaned closer to your face as he smiled. "so you're the one i was looking for all this time... i had my suspicions, you were the most beautiful person in this whole gala, how could i have thought you would be another person? and don't worry... life brought many more surprises our way, no?" he said with a brilliant smile as you felt more flustered and embarrassed. he was looking for you, even after all this time?

"do i classify as a stranger to you still?" he asked you in a soft voice with a sweet smile on his face. you tried to match his smile, but ended up wincing. "well... not after you pretty much re-entered my life and welcomed yourself back in, of course not, petey. i... i really missed you." you rambled to peter as an impromptu welcome back into your life, with him blushing and chuckling even more as he dipped you as the music climaxed.

he leaned closer to your face and blushed a deeper shade of crimson. "i really... missed you, too." he said as you got all sheepish and smiled back at him more genuinely and held him tighter. this felt like a dream, this whole night did–it felt like you were asleep your whole life and were living out the loveliest dream you've ever had... and to see him finally after all these years, you felt like tonight could be the start of making up for the lost time that you had wished to spend with him.

"you'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream."

he had been that stranger that wasn't really a stranger; just someone you met once upon a dream.

tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @sabcandoit @binibinileonara @k4tsu3 @fiannee @luvstarrstruck @maxoloqy @thee-fantastic-mrfox @maxoloqy @arachnoia @ophanimgold

#spider noir #spider noir x reader #spider noir x you #spider noir x y/n #spider noir fluff #atsv #atsv fluff #atsv imagines #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse fluff

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hellcheer-heaven · 1 month

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Morning Glory - (NSFW)

Summary: Chrissy has recently moved into the Munson trailer. Eddie unfortunately wakes up with morning wood, so he heads to the bathroom to take care of it. Chrissy has a couple of ideas to help him with his dilemma.

Early morning wood wasn’t an unusual phenomenon for Eddie. A quick masturbation session took care of it and then he was good for the rest of the day. However that matter was going to change once Chrissy came into his life. Ever since she moved into the trailer, he felt that it was inappropriate to wake up beside her like this. His two choices were a cold shower or finish in the bathroom.

In the very early hours on a cool spring morning, Chrissy had turned over and felt the absence of his warm body. She could hear moaning from the bathroom, she was curious so she decided to investigate. The darkness of the trailer shielded her from Eddie’s eyes. Well then again his eyes were tightly shut as he jerked his cock within his tattooed hand. The door was left open just a crack, giving her a chance to witness the glorious sight of him masturbating. This felt so illegal to just stare, her own private show with Eddie as the star. Her pussy throbbed, moistening her panties as she kept her mouth covered. Her body heat rising at the sight and sounds of the most beautiful man fucking his closed fist.

He called her name multiple times, describing exactly what he needed, “Spread those legs. Oh fuck, play with your pussy you dirty slut. Suck my fucking cock… oh good girl, my good girl.”

Chrissy’s jaw dropped, a silent exhale escaping as she rubbed herself against the wall. Those words of his, no matter how crude, never failed to make her wet.

She couldn’t simply wait, she had to speak, “Eddie.”

His heart dropped, blood running cold despite the hotness emitting from his skin. Shit, he was so fucked! How was he going to explain himself? Well the moment Chrissy gently opened the door and turned on the light, no explanation was needed. Her cheeks were bright pink, dark pupils dilated, and her shiny essence coated upon her fingers.

Their bodies faced each other, her icy blue eyes shined under the dull bathroom light. She wore one of his band shirts, one that was clearly too big for her. She stepped forward and reached out to him, her slick covered hand making good use of his hardened cock. Eddie was at a loss for words, what felt like a nightmare turned into an amazing dream. This was clearly no dream, the way she groped and fondled him clearly indicated that this was really happening; and he loved it.

“Why are you hiding in the bathroom, Eddie?” she sweetly whispered.

“Oh fuck… ooh babe…”. Her grip began to loosen, that’s when Eddie found his words, “I- I- I got hard and I didn’t want to freak you out- oh shit!”

She offered him a tiny smirk as she gave him a good tug, her voice lovable, “You’re so considerate. Always thinking about me and my safety. Such a good boyfriend.”

His heart slammed against his ribcage, “Thank you babe, oh just like that.”

She leaned forward and pecked his neck, “You have a beautiful cock, Eddie.” Her free hand spider crawled down his back, giving his rear a playful squeeze, her voice a gentle whisper in his ear, “Baby.”

This felt too good to be true, as if he was experiencing something from one of his dirty movies. Jeans around his ankles, being handled by his lover, and getting praised. This was definitely going to awaken a thing or two in him, right now he was focused on trying not to cum too fast.

“Chrissy, Chrissy, oh fu-”

Her sweet little giggle seemed so cruel, “What’s wrong Eddie? Come on, you can tell me.”

He bit down on his lower lip, “Cum… gotta cum Chri-”

Despite the soft volume, her tone was firm, “No. You don’t get to cum yet.”

Eddie felt his legs start to shake, “Please Chrissy-”

She kissed his ear, her hand began to slow down, “I said ‘No.’ You have to wait. Good boys wait, Eddie.” Sapphire stared deeply into smokey topaz, "You will be a good boy for me, won’t you?”

His eyebrows scrunched up, a tiny smile emerging through, “Y-Yes…”

Her hand started to loosen up, “Hmm? What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

Eddie loudly declared, “Yes!” She quickly covered his mouth, he then responded breathlessly, “Yes, I will be a good boy for you, Chrissy.”

Her princess pink lips pecked his trembling mouth, “Thatta boy.”

She held him once more, leading her beloved by his cock back into their room. Eddie had no choice but to follow, trying to remember how to breathe. His body was on fire, the flames growing with each passing moment. He adored the way Chrissy could be so kind and so demanding. Even when she barely had to speak up, he was more than ready to listen to her. To serve her, kneel before her, and do exactly as she commanded. Wow, he was really enjoying himself, perhaps much more than she realized.

“Now, take off your clothes and lay down.”

The cold air felt so pleasant upon his burning flesh, goosebumps forming from top to bottom. He was lovely, tall and slim, his chest and arms beautifully inked. The newest addition of his collection that adorned his left bicep depicted a snake slithering through a human skull. Eddie had wondered if perhaps he needed another tattoo. One that not only matched his dark and brooding aesthetic, but one that precisely indicated his undying love for her. Another time of course, right now all he had to do was present himself.

The accompanying bedside lamp made Chrissy shine, a Goddess walking towards a mortal man. She stood there, hungry eyes drinking in the gorgeous sight of him. He was rock hard, veiny shaft pulsating and twitching slightly. Nipples deliciously jutting out from his soft breasts. Red watercolor flush painted upon his pale flesh. A single finger very gently circled the very top of his bulging head. She was careful with him, tracing the shape and circumference of the tip. Soon allowing all of her fingers to gingerly caress him.

Eddie grabbed the sheets like his life depended on it, “O-Oh… oh my god.”

Chrissy gazed at him with love in her sparkling eyes, her other hand offering his length a playful squeeze. She couldn’t prevent her little giggles from coming out. He looked so sweet, hips attempting to follow her, watching her jerk him so very, very slowly.

“You’re so cute when you’re whiny,” she mentioned. “You’re just a big baby, aren’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” he cooed.

She bent down and gave the top a tiny kiss. This soon led to longer smooches and kitten licking. He shut his eyes, trying his best to focus on his breathing instead of the bubblegum pink lips and wet tongue teasing him with seemingly no end in sight.

“Eyes on me, Edward.”

Eddie watched as Chrissy let a glob of saliva land upon him, waiting for it to slide down before licking it off. Her slithering tongue was like a paintbrush, creating all manner of precise strokes with dexterity and delicacy. Very carefully swallowing him as far as her mouth could allow. This was heaven for Eddie, delicious and moist heaven. His lover taking the most vulnerable part of his physical being and offering him the kind of pleasure he had only ever fantasized about. Yet despite the tantalizing nature of Chrissy’s talent, hell was not getting the chance to blow his load down her throat. Still, being ordered by her to not cum was quite thrilling.

Beads of sweat cascaded down his face, hot air continually pumping out of his lungs. Air suddenly escaped him the moment she went down just a little more. Sucking in her cheeks and humming a little tune as she moved her head. He felt so snug in her throat, the squeezing sensation felt oddly satisfying to her. Eyes locked together once more, he looked divine, skin gleaming a hotter shade of red that continued to spread along his torso and shoulders. Eddie’s mind would forever imprint this very special and very sleazy moment.

He was desperate, he wasn't going to last, “Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease!”

Chrissy rested her hands upon his warm thighs, easing herself off of him. Wiping the drool and pre-cum from her newly freed mouth. She sat beside him, crossing her legs and tossing her hair to the side. She appeared so casual as if she didn’t just blow him from here to almost kingdom come.

She cradled his face, presenting a playfully mean smirk, “Poor, sweet Eddie. You’re a total mess. That must have been so hard for you.”

“Chrissy-”

“Shh, shh. You’re doing so good, Eddie. I know you wanna cum, just hold on a little longer.” Her lower lip quivered, her expression and voice oozed sweetness and sympathy, “You can do that can’t you, baby? Hmm?”

He blinked his teary eyes, “Uh-huh.”

She wiped the little trails and kissed his forehead, “I know, I know. You can do it, Eddie. You’re almost there.”

She was telling the truth, he knew that she was right. He believed her with all of his heart and he would wait, even if it took all morning. Things became all the more enticing when she removed her underwear and brought it close to his face. The soft, frilly material looked oh so good and wonderfully slick.

“Do you want a taste?” Chrissy gently prompted. “Go ahead, you deserve it.”

Eddie stuck his tongue out and savored the intoxicating delicacy that is Chrissy Cunningham. He may not have the most expensive palate, but he would gladly trade all the food in the world just to have a taste of her. Underwear or straight from the source, he didn’t care, he was glad to oblige. Chrissy nibbled her bottom lip as she watched that tongue of his clean the garment.

She cutely cooed, “Aww, look at you. You love the taste of my pussy don’t you, Eddie?” Her other hand scratched his scalp, “You’re such a slut.”

He whimpered when she threw her panties to some unknown corner, “I want more.” Her brow arched up harshly, she didn’t need to say a single word. Eddie gulped, “I- I’m sorry. Can I have more please?”

Her smile returned, “Good boy, Eddie.”

She positioned herself above his hips, pushing up the giant shirt to reveal her lovely body. Her curly covered apex sat mere inches above his dick. Pudgy labia so warm upon her fingers as she explored herself. Carefully sliding a couple of fingers into her wet apex, so close to the weeping tip.

“Oh my god,” Eddie groaned, having to restrain himself from grabbing her by the hips.

Her other hand carefully circled her clitoris, her voice so soft and breathy, “You like that? Watching me touch myself?”

“Y-Yes,” he huffed.

Chrissy chuckled, her fingers cycling her inner walls, “I heard you say those naughty things about me. ‘Spread those legs. Play with your pussy you dirty slut. Suck my fucking cock.’ You’re a dirty slut. Go on. Say it.”

His mind was losing focus, all he could hear was her voice, answering her like the mindless sex servant that he was, “I’m a dirty slut.”

“Louder,” she ordered, stroking his cock with her juices.

“I’m a dirty slut!” Eddie wailed.

His jaw slammed shut when he heard an angry fist pounding at his bedroom door. He knew the gruffness of his uncle’s voice anywhere.

“Boy! It’s three in the morning!

Chrissy pushed herself down on his cock. Smiling devilishly as she quickly covered his mouth. Wagging her finger and quietly tutting her tongue. Smugly looking over at the locked door and enjoying the madness of this moment.

Wayne continued, “What are you yelling about?”

Chrissy moved her hand aside and whispered, “Tell him you’re sorry.”

“Nothing. I’m sorry uncle Wayne. I- I- I had a bad dream,” he attempted to answer back as regularly as he could.

She tightened up around him, gyrating her hips in slow circles. Hypnotizing him with her cunt and with her breasts as she squeezed them.

“Jesus Christ, you scream like someone died in front of you. Just get back to sleep, Eddie. Goodnight.” Wayne grumbled.

Eddie nodded, shaking his head when he remembered that he couldn’t be seen, “O-Okay. G-Goodnight.”

His uncle returned to his room, and so they waited for a few minutes. Chrissy continued her erotic method of torture, relishing the pleasurable and painful expressions on his face.

She relaxed her body and shimmied her lower half, “That was a close one. Now…” She roughly grabbed his wrists and held them down, “…hold on tight big boy.”

Chrissy was merciless as she humped and bounced on top of him. He felt amazing, better than amazing! He fit perfectly within her pulsating center, filling and emptying herself to such delight. Squeezing and suffocating his member with such intensity and ecstasy. Despite his lack of working brain cells, Eddie couldn’t help but wonder if he already died and this was going to be his final resting place; if that was the case he had no complaints. His fingers dug into his palms, eyes focusing on the ravishing woman taking him. She could see the love in those chocolate button eyes. He wanted to singhis praises and adoration of her, butthe most he could do was groan and say her name.. As wild as Eddie Munson could be, he was tameable. All it took was the right person to do it.

Chrissy was beginning to find it challenging to say what she wanted to as well, centering her thoughts on herself and him. Their hips did not falter, the rhythmic motion of her seeping flower kept his engorged vine under wraps. The sky looking down at the earth, pastel pink crashing down to intertwine with rose pink. The heat from their skin rising, the bed springs danced and sang a song of squeaks and creaks. Her nails pinched his skin, driving his form deeper into the old mattress, breaking the kiss for a moment to try and breathe.

She squealed, “Fuck, fuck, Eddie. Eddie… oh god!”

He mewled, “Fuck, Chrissy. Oh baby, oh my god!”

She nuzzled into his neck, sampling the salty sweat before whispering, “Cum.”

Something almost Pavlovian switched on in his head. That was it, that one single command was all it took for him to let go and finally give in. Time had stopped, he could see sparks forming before his eyes. The build up was over, Eddie came and came. His orgasm hit him hard and fast, blowing all previous attempts out the window. The rush overpowered him completely, thick ropes streaming out like lava from an exploding volcano. Chrissy wrapped her arms around him, he did the same to her. She bit down on his shoulder to prevent herself from screaming and he scratched at her back. The more he marked, the harder she clamped down. Pure, unabashed bliss between the two lovers. Bodies that willingly fell into the depths had started to gain some buoyancy once again, floating above and beyond into a cloudy space of eternal elation.

Despite the heaviness of sleep starting to take hold, he eased her back onto the bed. His grip loosened, snuggling into her chest, and offering her small kisses. She cradled him, smacking her lips to his forehead. Eddie faced him and gave her a bashful grin. She scrunched up her nose when she smiled back. They were exhausted and ecstatic. After tonight, there was no chance of feigning ignorance about those stains now.

“Hi Eddie,” Chrissy casually stated.

Eddie responded, his intoxicated grin growing, “Hi Chrissy.”

Chrissy moved the loose curls away from his face, “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay? I feel fucking fantastic,” Eddie happily answered back. “Holy shit, that was amazing! Where did you learn all that?”

Her lips puckered up, letting them pop before giving him a response, “Uh… well you know, I have my little fantasies.” She began to rub the back of her neck, “And I may have found your um… video collection.”

His eyes widened, “Chrissy Cunningham, you watched one of my porno tapes? Without me?”

“What? I was curious! I mean, you’re not mad at me are you?”

He guffawed, “Babe, I don’t care if you read a ‘How To Give Your Boyfriend the Best Blow Job Ever’ guide from one of your magazines! That was fucking phenomenal!”

Chrissy touched her blushing cheek, “Oh god, Eddie.”

He held her face, his eyes sparkling with such enthusiasm, “Oh come on, don’t get shy with me. You knew what you were doing and you knew that you were amazing at it.”

She pecked his nose, “Thanks Eddie. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

He quickly shook his head, smile still wide and pleasant, “Nope. Not at all. Oh shit, your back.” He turned her around and checked, leaning down to kiss the markings, mumbling such gentle apologies.

Chrissy hugged him, “Hey, it’s okay. I’m fine. What about your neck?”

He shrugged, “Not the first time I’ve been bitten. Well, that is, this is the first time I got myself a love bite…” The pull of sleep gripped him, causing a large yawn to come out, “…instead of a fight bite.”

The yawn passed on to her, “I think it’s time for bed.”

They settled down and allowed themselves to relax in each other’s arms. Basking in the wonderful series of lazy kisses before falling into the lovely slumber of the very early morning.

He had one more thing to ask, “Chrissy?”

“Mmhm?”

“When it’s time to get up, what do you want for breakfast?”

She giggled, “Sausage á la Munson.”

#hellcheer #munningham #eddissy #chrissy cunningham #eddie munson #chrissy x eddie #eddie x chrissy #hellcheer fic #hellcheer fan fic #hellcheer fanfiction #hellcheer fanfic

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1800classiccherries · 11 months

Text

Good night!

⚘ 1610!Miles Morales x black!fem!reader

⚘ fluff! teen romance, heights, sneaking out (?)

⚘ summary: Late at night, Miles pays Y/n a visit asking to go for a swing.

⚘ wc: 828

Jazz was filling your otherwise quiet room as you lay on your bed facing the ceiling with your legs up against the wall. From below your room, you could hear the faint sounds of a party, and outside your window, the never-ending sound of cars and people in the city went by.

You close your eyes for a moment letting the music push away your thoughts. That night you weren't really thinking about anything in particular, just various things like your week, funny memories, how you'll decorate your future apartment, things you need to do the following day, etc. You could say you were just in a thinking mood.

Under the sound of jazz, you hear a faint tapping at your window. At this hour? You thought to yourself, craning your neck to look at the source of the sound. Your boyfriend, Miles, is crouched there at the window in his Spiderman suit, putting a hand up when he sees that you noticed him.

While you had been listening to jazz and thinking about random things, Miles was (surprisingly) listening to nothing and thinking of you. So instead of trying to fight it, he suited up and swung to your place, assuming you were still up.

Sitting now upright, you crawl off the bed and over to the window to let Miles in.

“Hey,” you were giving him a look that, while trying to seem inviting, was asking ‘what are you doing here so late.’

“Hi,” he looks around your room, taking in the music and warm feeling of a dark room being lit with lamps and candles. “I, uhm, couldn’t get you off my mind, so I thought I’d swing by… hope you don’t mind.”

“No, I don’t mind. I was just sitting around, thinking.”

“About anything in particular?” Miles asks with caring and interested eyes.

“No, not really. Plus, I can’t seem to remember now that you're here.” You laugh sheepishly.

Miles looks down at the ground before looking back up at you with a smile, “Wanna go for a swing?”

“Yeah, I’ll get my suit” You walk to your closet, getting the spider suit Miles made for you so that if you were to go swinging with him, your identity would be concealed as well.

Once you’re suited up, you climb out your window, shutting it behind you, meeting Miles on the fire escape. As you wrap your arms around him, he shoots a web out to the nearest building taking off.

While you weren’t the biggest fan of swinging around with the occasional free fall that never failed to freak you out, you did love the views. From up high, looking down at all the lights and people brought a warm sense of comfort, knowing that there were so many other lives out there and that you weren’t really alone.

Miles smiles to himself, feeling your heartbeat against his chest, laughing whenever he free falls, causing you to tighten your hold on him. After a while, he pulls over to a rooftop taking his arm away from your waist. You take a few steps back and look around at the view, and while you look at the view, Miles is looking at you. Seeing the city lights shine on your face and sparkle in your eyes, he was in awe, and when you turned to look at him, he felt his heart stop beating.

“What is it?” You asked with a smile when you caught him starting.

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” he brushes off shyly once he snaps out of his daze.

Walking to the edge of the rooftop, Miles takes a seat, legs dangling off the edge. You follow suit and rest your head on his shoulder.

“Tell me about your day,” you prompt, not wanting to goback home quite yet.

And you got your wish. The two of you stayed on that rooftop talking about any and everything, from school and music to family and spider-people. Miles was one of those people you felt like you could tell anything to; he also reciprocated the feeling.

After what easily could’ve been hours, you realize the time, “We should probably head back now.”

“Yeah, you won’t get in trouble or anything, right?” he stands, putting out his hand for you to take, making sure you don’t fall.

“Nah, I’m pretty sure everyone was asleep when you came.”

Now back at the fire escape, you slide open your window and climb into your room, careful to not make any sounds.

Once you’re in, you take off your mask, and turn back around, leaning out of the window slightly, “Thank you for tonight, Miles. I had a great time.”

“Yeah, me too.” You begin to walk away from the window but stop when you hear Miles’s hushed voice.

“Wait,” you walk back to the window, “hm?”

Miles gently places a hand on your cheek and a sweet kiss on your lips,

“Good night, Y/n.”

“Good night, Miles.”

Thanks for reading! (^^)/

#cherry's works ‧₊˚✧ . ˚#atsv x black reader #atsv x reader #atsv miles #atsv #miles morales #miles morales atsv #miles morales fic #miles morales spiderverse #miles morales x black!reader #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x reader #miles morales spider man #miles morales 1610 #across the spiderverse #spider verse

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lupeloto · 8 months

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imagine before 11x05 ian walks in on mick painting his airsoft gun and asks him why he’s doing that and mick just says “for you” 🥹

oh that makes me JKDHSJDISKDJKJEB, lemme whip something up real quick... okay so i wrote it like Ian seeing the airsoft guns for the first time... sorry if that's not what you meant but that's where my mind took me!

Mickey is leaned against the wall, legs spread open with a little tube of black paint and a a couple paintbrushes placed between them. He held an airsoft gun in one hand, a paintbrush in the other as he studies it closely, his tongue slightly sticking out between his lips in concentration.

He hears Ian's footsteps stomping up the stairs. He always walked with such vigor, as if he had some sort of mission to tend to at all times. Mickey could always recognize Ian's footsteps which he felt was normal, but being able to recognize every goddamn Gallagher's tread in this house is what freaked him out... how the hell did he get roped up the lives of so many fucking Gallaghers?

Ian reaches the top of the stairs and heads straight for the bedroom, still in his boxers, the red plaid ones that Mickey liked as they snugged his waist a little tighter than the others. His bare chest covered in a layer of freckles and light-red hair that especially got Mickey going when paired with his messy-morning-bed-head and raspy voice.

Ian stops in his tracks, first noticing the gun before anything else, "Mick what the hell?-" he sighs, throwing his head back. But before he can continue his griping, Mickey whips it around without a word, simply gesturing towards the orange-tip on the barrel.

Ian feels a weight lift from his shoulders as he steps closer to inspect, "What'd you get those for?" he questions, a tinge of pride in his voice as he knows exactly why. He makes his way to their dresser, pulling out a clean shirt as he awaits Mickey's reponse.

"For you." Mickey replies plainly, eyes still focused in on the orange-tip of another one of the guns.

Ian smiles to himself, pulling the shirt up-and-over his head before leaning against the dresser, arms crossed over his chest, "Thought you were adamant about the real guns..."

Mickey shrugs, "Yeah well, sacrifices and compromises and all-that-shit," he rolls his eyes as they meet Ian's. He flashes a sweet, teasing smile before returning to his task.

Ian blows a deep breath before plopping down on his back next to Mickey, "Where'd you get the fucking paint and brushes and shit?" he questions, picking up the tools to inspect.

"Dollar Store. Took Liam and asked him to help me pick out which fucking brushes to get because there were like a shit-ton and he seemed to know what he was talkin' about. I dunno, wanted them to look real as possible I guess," he looks down towards Ian, one-side of his mouth turning up the sight of his husband. The morning Sun shining on his faces, making his eyelashes even lighter, daintier than usual. God, you're beautiful, he thought but kept to himself.

Ian grins, completely endeared by Mickey's effort to do something just because it would given him peace-of-mind. Not that it was unlike Mickey to do things for him, but it never failed to make Ian smile, or to coat him in the feeling of being the luckiest motherfucker alive. He doesn't speak, just stares up at Mickey, admiring the way his lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed, creating small lines between them, when he was concentrated. Mickey glances over, catching Ian's gaze fixated on him and leans down to give a gentle spider-man style peck before retuning to his craft.

#gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #gallavich fic #gallavich ficlet #shameless #gallavich headcanon #gallavich headcanons #i hate them #they're cute or whateva #writing them in/post s11 is my shit bc they're so domestic im-

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siremasterlawrence · 7 months

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The Erosion Of Hero’s Free Will Part 1

Anthony “Tony” Stark is working on a brand spanking new invention tinkering away at a small cube shape device in his plan is being fixed with numerous electronic tools starting a new as the device rolls once creating a surge in.The cube lifts in the air shoots into the sky in a straight arrow reaching new heights in a beautiful display of his technological wonder it goes off projecting footage from all over the house including the many other Avenger members training in the weight room.Hours pass as Tony yawns loudly stretching his arms into the air with excitement he fist pumps and heads to bed snapping his tired finger the lights flicker off as everything he created shuts down.

Something is off as he stops in the middle of the room when the elevator shaft comes to a hault in a mid stop the floor above him suddenly all of the lights flicker off catching Tony’s eyesThe machinery shuts down with an all to lull familiar voice banging on in the background of course it’s his AI Jarvis warning him that he is being attacked.He can’t help himself staring into the main light in the center of the ceiling soon the room spinning he falls onto his back as nothing else seems to matter everything is fading.

He cannot believe his eyes the shadow on the wall appears out of nowhere growing ever larger and larger is his shape blowing up getting closer to him. It is now that he stood well over him the man knelt on the floor cupping Tony’s chin lifting him up to my lips and I press mine on his with lust.Tony blacks out completely laying mindless on the rooms floor unknowingly Peter Parker stood in the glory of the light shining on him at last.

He is gleeful so excitedly he takes Tony by both of his hand pulling them in front of him he yanks him forward dragging his body to the coldest slab.Tony is thrown on to it locking him set in to place be is completely at his mercy the boy gets to work strapping him down into place with chains.One more Spider-Man crawls down from a sheet of long length spiderweb hitting the floor as he wraps his legs on it and flips into the air landing.

“You arrived finally?” Peter A

“Sorry! Late for duty” Peter B

“Where is Peter C?” Peter A

“It’s pizza time” Peter C

“Are you guys ready?”

“Commence”

“This is him?”

“Filthy rich”

“Sexy indeed “

“Powerful”

“He is all ours”

“Let’s play with our new jungle gym”

They snap their fingers creating a gigantic wave of energy in forum of spider web into the air shaking Tony up stirring him up from his slumber.His eyes pop open as he raises his head into the air he sees what’s about to happen took into an account pressing his hand on the bed and he flips off. Before he can make a quick escape all three Peter’s form their signature hand stances as they synchronize an ultimate spider web lock him in.

“Guy on my count.”

“Together in one…two….three”

“Aaaaahhhhhhhh”

“Yes Masters Peter! I am at your service.”

“Mwahahahahaha.”

The end

#tom holland #rdj #andrew garfield #tobey maguire #hypnosis #mind control slaves #mind corruption #Free Will Erosion

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nekhcore · 2 months

Text

short story: untitled / guardian

prompt: Centuries ago, a sorcerer created a guardian to protect their greatest work. Now, that sorcerer is long gone, but the guardian is still there, carrying on the work it was created for. [1498 words] [fantasy]

Metal and stone creak against each other to the tune of birdsong. The sun rises slowly over lush green hills and shines over the manor. As the world wakes up, so does the construct, lifting itself out of the pool of water it rests in. Algae has begun to grow over its round body and elongated arms, but so far it hasn’t gotten into its sockets.

Once it’s dried its body in the growing sunlight, the construct enters the manor and makes straight for the kitchen. Light pours in through the wall of windows looking out into the garden and the rising sun. The table is clear, the chairs are untouched, and a full mug of cold coffee sits on the countertop. The master did not take their drink yesterday.

With a gentle hand, the construct pours out the coffee and washes the mug out with a sponge in the sink. While it dries on the rack, it picks out another mug from the master’s large collection and leaves it on the countertop. The apparatus for preparing the drink functions by simple runework, but still requires a strong hand to churn the beans. There are newer, more complex machines that take less work and finish faster, but the master likes theirs done the way it always has been.

The construct’s worn joints creak as it works. Though the runes that move its limbs are carved in so deeply that they will never wear, the paint that once filled those grooves has long faded. A fresh cup of coffee is left on the counter, exactly where the old one was.

A spider drops down from from the beams near the roof. It has been some time since the construct swept those hard-to-get places. Perhaps today is a good day to change that. The brooms are kept in a closet near the kitchen, and the construct is up the stairs and sweeping cobwebs off of the farthest corners of the ceiling in no time. Some of the paintings of the master in the hallway are crooked, so the construct takes its time to fix them.

There is a bench in the garden that the master placed many a decade ago. The construct itself was too large to accompany them on the bench, but on days like this when they are not already enjoying the view, the construct likes to sit alone and stand so still that birds come to land on its broad shoulders. A bright red finch lands on the rusted cover of one of its weapons, folded up inside its body. Though the weapons were once to be its main function, the construct has not found much use for them in recent days. The manor is quiet. At least the birds enjoy them.

The door to the manor opens without warning. The door has not opened in a very long time.

The construct hurries to the foyer to see who it could be, and is met with the confused visage of a pointy-eared man who greatly resembles the paintings on the wall. The man stares at the construct for a moment before his eyes widen with recognition.

“Gilly,” he says with a smile, “you’re still here?”

Its vocal mechanisms are stuck from lack of use, and it makes a various number of grunts and hums to loosen them before it attempts its reply. Even with the warm-up, its voice still cracks when it speaks: “The master has tasked me with guarding the home.”

The man takes off his jacket and hangs it up on an old coat hangar that can’t remember the last time it saw visitors. “Guarding it for whom? My dede isn’t here, are they?”

The construct does not respond. Its silence is answer enough for the man.

“That’s just as well,” he says, walking past the construct and into the dining room. The room seems to light up as he passes, and the very floors hum in response to his presence. “I’m not sure what I would say to them, anyhow. What have you been doing all this time? I don’t think I’ve been home in a good century.”

“Cleaning,” the construct says. Its voice is not quite returned.

The man passes the kitchen and sees the cooled cup of coffee sat untouched on the counter. He pauses, lips ajar in gentle surprise. “I got them that cup,” he says, just barely audible, then shakes his head. “Only dede would have their sentinel fixing up coffee.”

He walks up the stairs and sees that the manor is as clean as if it was still lived in, but it has no signs of life. The paintings on the wall are all dusted and aligned, as they should be. Their ornate frames shine just as brightly as the day they were hung up.

“Why are you still here, Gilly?” the man calls down to the construct. “Surely whatever magic dede was using to bind you here is long gone.”

The construct does not consider the thought. “The master said I must guard the home.”

Frustration is evident on the man’s face as he leans over the bannister. He’s come a long way to get here, as is clear by the dust on his sleeves and the dirt on his books, and has nothing to show for it. He throws his hands out, gesturing to the silent halls. “What is there left to guard in this old house?”

Something reawakens in the construct’s eyes at the question. Those words are like a lost key, unlocking something in the construct that has been waiting for a very, very long time. Though it does not speak to this revelation, the man notices the change in its demeanour immediately. It walks up the stairs and past him to a locked room at the end of the hall, and the man joins it.

The master’s study looks exactly the same as they left it on the day that they stepped away from the manor, never to return. Scrolls are messily arranged among books on shelves that are littered with little trinkets and keepsakes. A shell from this beach, a rock from that mountain, a pressed flower from a distant field. The man looks around in awe. Though the desk is kept neat and free of dust, there are no signs of life in this room. The inkwell is full. The papers on the desk are blank. The books are pristine and and uncracked. Below the desk, the construct unlocks a hidden compartment in the floor and retrieves a large, worn trunk. It places it on the desk with a thump, startling the man out of his thoughts.

“What is that?” he asks.

“The master called it the record of their greatest work.”

The man hesitates to approach.

“They tasked me with keeping it safe until their return,” the construct continues.

Though his heart is unsure, his feet carry him to the construct’s side. The trunk is held closed by a magical lock, one that the man knows well as the master’s signature. He breaks the seal with ease, and opens the trunk with his eyes closed. The construct also watches. It has not seen this trunk opened since it was closed.

When the man opens his eyes, he gasps. “This is…”

At first glance, it is a mess of papers, pictures, and junk. But the man knows these things. They are drawings he made in his childhood of him and the master. Shiny, jagged rocks that the man retrieved from beaches as a child. Pressed flowers that he hand-picked for the master. Pictures of the man and both of his parents, while they were around—standing on the front lawn while the manor was being built, playing in the garden together, on the man’s graduation from the magical academy, and him receiving his first accolades while the master and their spouse hold him with a smile.

At the bottom of the trunk, underneath all of the man’s childhood journals and old photos, is a folded letter that reads, “To my son”.

The man drops the letter without reading it and closes the trunk a bit too harshly. The construct waits for him to speak.

“You know, this is a good house,” he says. “It’s not too far from the city. Much better than a cramped old apartment.”

The construct nods.

“Do you think dede would mind if I used their old study?” he asks. His voice shakes a bit.

The construct shakes its head. “Not at all.”

“We’ll have to get you cleaned up as well,” he says, looking at the algae growing over its body. “I have a… a close friend who spends his time repairing sentinels. I’ll bring him here with the rest of my things.”

The man promises his swift return to the manor. The construct watches him leave until his carriage disappears over the horizon with the setting sun. It will have to prepare two cups of coffee tomorrow.

#nekh is writing #im actually a little proud of this one #short story #chronicle conjuration #fantasy #original fiction #fiction #high fantasy #magic #lgbt #lgbtq #gender fuckery #nonbinary #golem #gay #writing #writers #writers on tumblr #writer

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