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actuallybarb · 9 days

Text

here with me

pairing: male x gn!reader (i tagged with a lot of different male characters i find comforting, but there’s no names used so you can imagine anyone you so please)

word count: 0.6k

warnings: reader is in pain (nothing descriptive), he comforts. just fluff

a/n: i wrote this as a result of my own migraines, but i kept all the symptoms vague because any chronic pain is a bitch, and you deserve to be treated softly by the person of your choice

The apartment usually wasn’t this quiet when he got home.

Or this dark.

He set his keys on the counter and left his boots by the door, then carefully stepped through the apartment. The kitchen and living room were both empty, and the office looked like it hadn’t been touched all day.

There was no light under the bedroom door. He set a cautious hand on the doorknob, but a quiet whimper had him opening the door without question.

You were laid out on the bed, on top of the covers, with an arm draped over your eyes. The ceiling fan and rotary fan on the ground were both spinning at top speed, and he could just see a dark bag poking out under your neck.

He quietly closed the door and returned to the kitchen, now a man on a mission. He grabbed a straw and a water bottle from the fridge, then took an ice pack from the freezer and wrapped it with a dish towel. He took the last item, a bottle of painkillers, from the cabinet and silently returned to the bedroom, the only sound of his presence being the faint click as the door closed one more time.

“Baby?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

You let out another small whimper.

“How bad is it?”

“9.5.”

Unbearable, then, if you were using an actual pain scale.

He set his items on the nightstand and took a seat beside you on the bed.

“Meds?”

“At 3.”

Only a couple hours ago, too soon to take more. He put those beside the lamp.

He uncapped the water bottle and put the straw in, then he gently tucked a hand behind your head and lifted. “Drink.”

Your lips wrapped around the straw, and he didn’t pull the bottle away until you’d swallowed at least four times. But before you could lay back down, he replaced your old ice pack with a new one. You shivered a little, but the cold was a welcome reprieve.

“Stay or go?”

You could’ve cried. He’d stuck with you through this so many times he knew your comforts by heart. He read your moods instantly, and most of the time didn’t need promptings, but he always took the time to ask when it got bad like this. And he never shamed you for only being able to say a few words at a time.

“Stay.”

It nearly came out as a sob.

He shed his jacket and started unbuttoning his jeans. “Shirt or no shirt?”

“Soft.”

He took off his current shirt and replaced it with his sleep one, nothing decorating the black fabric, just ultra-soft cotton.

“Where do you want me?”

It differed every time. Sometimes you didn’t want him at all, the thought of another person with you sending jolts of pain through your body. Other times you wanted him to stay, but on the other side of the bed. Or you wanted him close, but barely touching.

“Top.”

Or sometimes you needed him to put all of his body weight on top of you like a human weighted blanket.

“Covers?”

“No.”

He positioned himself, knees on either sides of your thighs, then he slowly lowered himself until his hands on either side of your face were the only thing keeping him up.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

He finished lowering himself and settled his full weight against you.

You sighed in relief.

“Better?”

You nodded and tucked yourself into the crook of his neck. “Better.”

“Three taps if I’m suffocating you.”

For the first time that day, you took a deep breath and relaxed.

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clarks-letterman · 1 year

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lost in reality | perv!peter parker x gender-neutral!reader

a/n — this is not what i usually post! there was going to be more smut but i didn't know how far to go with it, so if anyone wants to see something more extended, let me know! (Peter is a bit of a perv in this but i tried to make him get his comeuppance) gender-neutral, i think

warnings — smut! 18+, some brief facefucking, gore (sorta mild, but don't read if you don't like it!)

summary — Peter uses the reality stone to practice his pickup skills. With such a powerful device at his disposal, what could go wrong?

words — 3.7k

~~~

A mesh of red and blue ambled to the quarters of the Avenger's compound. No rush nor worry affected Peter as he kept one foot light over the other, heading into each step, furthering him down the hallway. It was another neighborhood saved and another day where he would be free from the thoughts of letting his powers go to waste, and his life could finally regress into normalcy for the start of the new day. While he had a kick in his step from how smoothly the night had gone—and how much his mentor acknowledged the fact—Peter felt the need for something a little more caffeinated to help him instead.

As Peter returned from his latest venture, taking no rush to get to his room, you were on your way out of the resident android's room. In your hand, a pad of Stark Industries-branded notepad paper with all but one of the Avengers' coffee orders scribbled down filled it. You would not be in Vision's room with the question of coffee being the reason, something he was physically incapable of drinking, but Wanda frequented the room, and it was likely that she was in there. You were right to assume that, and now, you planned to check the door just further down the hall to see if Peter was around.

It turned out that you did not need to go far; the bright colors of his suit caught your eye the second you stepped out into the corridor. Anything resembling Peter's mood of being on top of the world was gone, and so was that little kick that pushed him further—you could almost see him lose it in his eyes once he saw you, even from afar. You approached him with one thing on your mind, the pen and paper used to record everyone's order at the ready.

"He-," he cleared his throat before lowering the pitch of his voice, "Hey."

There was an awkward silence between the following words until you reminded him by tapping your pen to the side of the notepad to draw his attention to it and speaking up, "Your order?"

"What?" He was already blowing it. Peter glanced down to his red-spandex feet and then back to you, his voice returning to its natural pitch, "Oh, yeah, uh—"

Peter paused. He realized he did not know what he wanted, and while you found the evident attempt to appear cool somewhat endearing, you could have already been heading out to get coffee for everyone by now. Almost by reflex, you started to tap the pen against the nearly completed list of coffee orders ranging from simple menu items to oddly specific modifications to non-existent drinks. And in seconds, the pen slipped from your grasp and unceremoniously landed on the laminate of the hallway floor.

"Shit," you reached down to grab the ballpoint, but Peter stopped you.

"I'll get it."

He attempted to bend over, only to find his hand stuck to the wall. Peter quickly stood straight, subtly tugging his hand away from the wall without tearing a new hand-shaped hole in the plaster and paint. In his panic, Peter's hand stuck itself to the wall, and no matter how hard he tried to pull away from it, his hand wouldn't budge. That left you to get the dropped pen, reaching for it without the trouble of spider-centric powers messing with you.

You looked to Peter, scribbling down his name next to Tony's order, "I'll just get you what Tony gets and leave you alone with your hand. See you later, Peter."

With that, Peter was left alone and sufficiently embarrassed as you strode down the hall, and, finally, his hand let him free once you were gone. He scuttled to his room in a bout of shame and locked the door, heading to his mirror with a plan to practice asking you out. It was a simple mirror resting on the opposite side of the wall that had betrayed him, even if it was an inanimate object that could neither sway nor influence his spider abilities. He planned on using the reflective rectangular sheet as a stand-in for you but decided to change himself into something that didn't remind him of the awkward encounter he had moments ago.

Now, he stared at himself in the length of the full-body mirror, dressed in a tee sporting Midtown's gold and navy-blue colors and a simple pair of beige cargo pants. It was more on your level, casual clothes that were unlike the striking symbolism of his superhero suit. Peter hoped it would make him feel more comfortable talking to you, as he wouldn't discern the need to be perfect in everything he does around you. He could be Peter.

The first words he spoke to himself in the mirror were natural, not meant to sound broody or cool. It was how he usually talked: voice cracks and diffidence-galore, "Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to swing me to get coffee with you?"

Peter realized his slip-up and started the question over again.

"Oh my God, that's so funny that you get coffee!" He placed a hand over his chest with a fake smile to match, "I love caffeine and wanted to know if you would drink me. I mean, drink it with me?"

“Hey, I was just in the neighborhood—saving it, and all. Coffee, you-me? Then, we could come back here for. . .” He paused, knowing that he could never be that smug with you—he could barely get his powers to work! How would the Parker-Charm not blow up on ignition? “Okay, dial it back, Pete.”

"I'm hopeless," Peter let his head fall, staring at the floor. He could hardly watch himself fumble in the mirror, but the glint of a red sheen in the mirror pulled him back—the reality stone, sitting on one of the few bookshelves resting against the walls of his room. This one housed various meticulously assembled Star Wars-themed Lego sets, and the stone quickly became an amenity on the set of Boba Fett's Starship. Could he use it for this, of all things? If he did use it, it would only be for a couple of minutes. For practice, he told himself.

Many people would probably ask why a teenager would have one of the most mighty pieces of rock sitting on a shelf in his bedroom, and well, Peter wouldn't know the answer himself as to why he was allowed to keep it. According to Tony, he was a good kid, and the rest of the team knew he wouldn't use it for anything malicious, like obliterating half of all human existence. So, it was a souvenir, a relic that Peter never utilized for anything apart from letting it be some seriously cool decor and a piece he constantly bragged about to his only two friends.

He turned away from the mirror, retrieved the stone from its entrapment in the plastic bricks, and returned to his full-length reflection. The jagged edges dug into the soft inside of his palm in retaliation to the pressure as he squeezed it with a closed fist. With a single thought—one that held details of nearly everything about you—a soft ring of smoke formed a couple of feet away from him on the carpet. His heart thrummed as it quickly moved upward, revealing your form as it went. After a few moments, the puff of smoke faded as it rounded your head, topping off the manifested version of yourself.

Nothing could compare to the real you, but this was close.

The imagined version of you standing before Peter looked like the spitting image of you, almost to the point where, if dressed the same, it would be impossible to tell the two of you apart. Almost. But, there was one thing that let Peter tell the visually deceitful version of you apart from the real one: he couldn't hear a heartbeat. He figured that, while you looked the same on the outside, the inside was missing a few vital features of the real you.

Regardless, Peter struggled to remember that information since your lesser interpretation was still stunning enough to make his heart sink into the never-ending pit in his stomach. His feelings got the better of him, and Peter started his practice in err from the moment he opened his mouth.

He held the stone tight, waving his other hand to you, "Hey—hi, do you know who I am?"

"Yeah, you're Peter." You stated it as if he should have known that already, and he noted it. From what he could tell, you had at least some part of the memory of your actual self, so maybe this version of you could provide an accurate reaction to asking you to get coffee with him.

"Okay, cool. Cool. Yeah, that's. . . cool," Peter trailed.

"Why do you keep saying cool?"

The only problem was that you were real. Unduly real. Down to the slightest mannerisms that anyone but Peter would be able to catch when they spent time with you, and with your stunning looks and perfect quirks brought about by the stone, Peter could remember everything about you. He could hardly hear the absence of your heartbeat from his' sonority, ultimately distracting himself from his original intent.

"So, what did you wanna ask me?"

"You. . . you ask a lot of questions. But, I wanted to know if you could—"

Peter was finally going to get the words out, albeit to someone who was only pretending to be you. He wouldn't have to worry about finishing that project he procrastinated on—this would be his big success of the day. But his web-shooter had gone off erroneously across the room, spraying against the walls and pouring onto the floor from its canister. He jumped away from the source and nearly dropped the stone in the process.

Peter's mind was fleeting, even his rehearsal was going wrong, and he immediately thought of an old trick for speaking to people that he hadn't needed since a young age—he imagined you in your underwear. He didn't mean for it to happen, but if he thought it, the stone made it a reality for as long as he held the little rock. He watched as a red puff of smoke took your clothes into the air, vanishing from your body in less than a second. Underneath, a simple pair of boxer briefs clung to your nether region. Maybe it wasn’t all about the practice to Peter. His mind had thought of this, so it couldn't be that bad to indulge in it.

"Could you come over here?" He asked, throat dry. He needed to feel you to confirm he had not gone completely insane from one too many hits on the head. Peter defeatedly took a few steps to his bed, sitting down on the edge of it. "Please?"

His heart pounded with each step you took, accepting his wish to draw near. Peter could not help but watch your vulnerability follow ostensibly close behind. In just one beat, you stood directly in front of him. He watched your knees rise and fall on either side of his legs as you sat on his thighs. Peter felt the warmth of your presence, the surprising weight of you on his hairless and sinewy thighs, even if you were empty inside.

Peter was bristling, brown eyes wandering over your exposed form. His body felt immovable, no matter how much he wished to drop the stone and watch you vanish. His head was the only thing not to freeze, the rest of his body turning into a well-sculpted monolith. His jaw moved with a bit of tension, "I didn't ask you to do it like this."

"No, but you thought it."

"How did you. . . ?"

"You thought that, too."

Peter realized that he was practically having a conversation with himself, just through the guise of your face. The details became more apparent; the color of your eyes, the set of your mouth, and the same smile lines appeared as he thought about its utter perfection. He connected that now, asking you to come closer only worsened his issue. Your presence over his prominent bulge made it push the limits of its cotton confines. Slowly, his marble arm broke from his reserved mold, and an empty hand cupped your cheek the same way he had always thought about doing it. He would use both, but one was occupied with creating his living dream. Then his hand slid away and around to the back of your neck, your hair brushing his chewed fingernails and overly scraped knuckles.

He knew that guiding you into the kiss was redundant as he could think about it, but this was far more passionate. As he brought you close, the thought of your smell and the feeling of hot breath joining in concordant timing against each other's skin started to fill his head. At the touch of your lips to his, Peter kissed like someone who had nothing to lose. Like he didn't have the responsibility of seeming to have it all together placed foremost. Like he could be a needy and desperate mess for more than a passing swing around New York. Only now, and only because of you.

His impetuous thinking decided that taking care of his problem now would mean that he could resolve everything else later. He needed to take care of it now; it was the only thought running through his head. Desire.

Breaking away, Peter silently commanded you to slide off your boxers and get on your knees. He caught a glimpse of you as you followed his direction, surprised by how his mind subconsciously filled in the gaps for everything he had never seen.

Your hands worked in a way that left their presence unknown until they were hooked into the band of his boxers, easily tugging down on the well-worn stitching to free Peter's springy dick. He watched your eyes ogle it and how you took it into your hand without a second thought, and while he filled your hand well, he couldn't help but think about his inadequacy. He had seen his teammates' sizes after sharing training sessions with them. Not that he was looking on purpose, but mostly out of insecurity. Peter already paled in comparison to the heights and builds of the others, and while he was far from small, they didn't make him look all that great. Peter started to wonder if the stone affected him in the same way it did you.

With a single thought, he decided to test it. He watched his shaft grow bigger and chub up with a thicker girth. Your hand could barely wrap around it as it had with his true size. It felt like an innocuous veneer to gaining the confidence that he never had. As a result, he was eager to get you on him and make you squirm like one of the criminals he spun webs around.

In seconds, your lips formed an imperfect circle and took the head of the arachnid, and the rest of him, as if it were nothing. Your lips brushed his decent smattering of hair around the base of his cock without convulsion. This version of you had a throat that fit around him like a cock-sleeve, hugging his girth without any of the need for restraint.

"No gag reflex? This is better than any toy I ever made."

Peter's hands found their way back to the rear of your head, controlling the pace at which you took him for his own pleasure. The sheer feeling of something far better than lubed-up rubber made him go wild.

At a certain point, he couldn't remember when his mind started to break reality further than he thought until he was suddenly yanked back to it. Peter started to feel effervescent guilt towards his actions. This is what he wanted, but not how he wanted to get it. Quickly, Peter felt the heavy weight on his chest return, the need to right himself by putting an end to this. He hated that he changed himself to impress something that wasn't even you. He wondered what his mentor would think, what you would think, or how you would react. A small shift inside him sent that weight toward his hand, the one he held the stone in, and it went from its dormant glim keeping the illusion alive to a bright shine, creating something new.

"Get off, get off, please," Peter asked, thinking the words in his head as hard as he could to free himself from his twisted fantasy. You let his stiff, unrelieved dick pop out of your mouth and got off your knees.

"What's wrong, Peter?" He had thought that, too. What was wrong with him?

He could barely stand to face you, but he needed to acknowledge you to make you leave. When he did work up the nerve to look in your direction, the guilt glared back at him. He felt like a creepy monster for even thinking it was a good idea to give in to his urges. The feeling overtook him so much that he didn't even realize your gradual change.

At first, it was your face. The pleasureful expression turned into a sour one, eyebrows funneling together and your upper lip upturned. But, the features of your face pressed forward as if they were made of putty and someone was trying to claw their way out. They stretched out and ballooned until they burst, leaving you headless. Your body went without a head for a few seconds before the more seasoned details of his mentor formed in your absence.

He kept his hand flat, wicking it away from his body and the rest of his arm with the hope that the stone would fall off, but his powers had already made that choice for him. Then, he thought of his suit, his web-shooters, and the communicator that could signal Tony. If he drew attention to the issue, it would resolve itself, but could he successfully explain everything as if it were the typical morning paper arriving at the doorstep? He could try, or at the very least, lie. But that would never solve this issue, though, not in the long run.

Peter formed a mental map of the fastest route to his closet in his head and decided that his backup web-shooters might be strong enough to hold the illusion down and give him time to pry the stone from his nonreciprocating palm. He turned, locking eyes with the monster as it started changing again.

Peter looked on in horror, the stone shining its brightest and shading the monster in terrifying red like a stop sign you see at the last minute when your heart sinks at the thought of being crushed. The soft tear of wet, stretching flesh and its stringy reformation flushed his ears as the beast before him grew. The harsh snap and sound of bones splintering from the fattening weight pierced his sensitive ears; nothing new to him at this point in his life, but he had never heard so many cracks and gushing wounds. Yet, through all the bodily changes, Peter never broke his stare with the amalgamation of his worst thoughts. Its eyes never left him, either. The cold and frighteningly dead stare of non-existent emotion didn't phase him until he heard a heartbeat, one that he believed came from the creature itself.

However, it wasn't the monster's—it was yours, heavy-thudded blood-pumping. The real you and your usually pleasant voice calling for his response. From the other side of the door, he heard you pleading for him to answer and affirm that he was okay. He figured that you must have overheard his distress and the ensuing raucous.

Peter reached for the stone but stopped. Everything was gone. His suit still sat in a messy pile on the floor, but the webbing was gone from the walls. The stain on the carpet was no longer there, and his pants were the only thing absent from his body, but nothing left the confines of his boxers. Had all of it really been in his head?

He quickly answered the door without any precaution, seeing your face still intact.

"Hey, I got you something different than Tony's. I was in line and remembered when you drank out of his cup by mistake and spat it all over the counter. Are you okay? I thought I heard a girl screaming."

“Thank you, and it wasn't a. . . never mind. Do you want to come in and hang?”

“Yeah! But get some pants on first, Spidey. I can't have my thoughts get to me.”

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prismuffin · 1 year

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Hello! I hope youre doing well, could I request a one-shot for Miles Morales.

-Miles just starts to attend Visions and Reader immediately takes him under their wing (bonus if reader is taller). And they like to fluster him and get him out of troubling situation, standing up for him when others that about him.

-eventually Miles asks why Reader was so nice from the beginning and without even hesitating their like "You're cute and akward, just my type" or something along those lines?

A/n: OOO I LOVE THIS IDEA!!! Reader is also depicted to be taller than Miles!! I literally changed the title like 3 times istg I have no clue what to name this so it has two titles

Protection / Confession

Miles Morales x gn!reader

( summary: you'd taken a liking to the new kid, Miles, and decided to take him under your wing )

Warnings?: some light bullying, reader having mad w rizz

!-!more under the cut!-!

You were a very well known person in Visions Academy. Not only for your high IQ but also for your kind and charming personality. You were chill and not as stuck up as some people in Visions, you were a breath of fresh air. Specifically the breath Miles needed when he felt like he was drowning in stress and expectations. You had told him he shouldn’t worry about what others are thinking and that he should just do his own thing at his own pace and man did he need to hear that. You showed him around school and the dorms and even let him sit with you and your friends during lunch. You were technically his first friend in Vision and you made him think that staying wouldn’t be too bad. Obviously he immediately took a liking to you and luckily you seemed to do the same for him, though he isn’t really sure why. Hell, the first time you ever met Miles he was attempting to smooth talk a hall monitor so that he didn't get in trouble for dashing through the halls. He wasn't very convincing though and you had decided to step in to save the day, and it’s been history ever since.

Every now and then Miles would find himself in trouble and almost every time, you were there to pull him out of it. Like now, where Miles finds himself cornered in a hallway with two high schoolers that look like they shouldn’t be in high school anymore. He let out a nervous chuckle as he stared up at the two guys. “Hey, maybe we can just talk this one out?” He smiles nervously and one of the guys scoffed “Not a chance.” The guy reeled his fist back and Miles closed his eyes and braced for pain but instead he felt nothing. He peaked out of one eyes and saw you standing there with the guys fist in your hand. “Hey let’s not resort to violence guys, it’s not cool.” You raised your brow at them as they both hesitated on what to do next. “Or do you want me to go get a supervisor and tell them about what’s happening here?” You continued. Both guys glanced at each other and Miles couldn’t help but smirk at the situation. “I’m sure you’d get suspended for this, maybe even expelled,” you shook your head and tsked. “You guys should know Visions has no tolerance when it comes to violence.” Miles watched as the guy who was going to punch him ripped his hand from yours before glaring and storming away, his friend following right after him. You watched them both disappear down the hallways before turning your attention to Miles, who was crouched on the ground watching the guys walk away.

You cleared your throat and his eyes immediately shot to yours. A sheepish smile graced his face and your stoic expression turned into a smirk as you nose laughed and shook your head at him. You held out your hand for him to take, which he did, and you lifted him off the ground. "So, mind telling me what you did this time?" You asked, looking down at Miles who was scratching the side of his head and looking to the side. "Not really.." You hummed and placed your hand on his head, leaning down to his height. Realistically you weren't that much taller than Miles but you loved to act like he was so much shorter than you. "How many more times are you gonna pick a fight with guys two times your size." "I wasn't picking a fight!" His eyebrows furrowed, "and they weren't two times my size!" He removed your hand from his head but didn't let go of it afterwards.

He bit the inside of his lip and started messing with your fingers, his expression softening. "Sorry," he mumbled and you blinked for a moment as his words rendered in your brain. "For what?" He shrugged and smiled though there wasn't any emotion behind it. His eyes darted around for a second before he sighed. "I just- you're always getting me out of stuff like that." He chuckled and quickly let go of your hand as if he just realized he'd been holding it. "oh.." You thought for a moment before smiling.

"Miles." He looked up at you, "It's fine man, you don't have to apologize or anything." "But doesn't it get annoying?" You shook your head, "Miles, it's fine I swear I don't mind helping you and sticking up for you whenever people talk about you," You gestured with your head towards the direction the two guys went, "or when they try and get physical with you." Miles couldn't help but smile at your words. "You don't think I could handle them?" Miles raised an eyebrow with a smirk on his face and you laughed. "Even if I thought you could," You grabbed his chin, "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if your pretty face got all scratched up." You talked in a baby voice and chuckled as Miles' eyes widened. "Pretty?" He spoke loud and quick as if what he said just shot out of his mouth. You let go of his chin, "oh yeah why do you think I've been protecting you so much?" You stood up straight and stretched, "You were so cute when I first saw you, standing there all awkward like you are now." You rested your head on your arms and looked at him through the corner of your eye. "The first time I ever saw you my first thought was about how you looked like my type." You smirked and dropped your arms, turning fully towards him. "Then I saw you in the hallway that day trying to talk yourself out of a referral and I just had to help out." You stuck your hands in your pocket as you watched Miles process everything in his brain. He watched your every move with wide eyes and after a beat of silence you just sighed with a smile and started walking down the hallway. "Wait!" You heard Miles scurrying up to you. "So this- Are you- I'm-" He stopped talking and took a shaky breath. "Did you just confess to me? Was that a confession?" He asked and you shrugged. "Do you want it to be?" Another silence fell over the both of you. "..Yeah..." He said and your smile grew. "Then yes, it was a confession." He smiled at you, "I guess that this means it's my turn to confess now?" You nodded, "Yes, that would be ideal."

----!----

Thanks for reading! Have a great day/night!!

My requests are OPEN so feel free to request anything! Just make sure you check out my Request Info!

Masterlist

#Miles Morales #Miles morales x reader #miles morales x gn!reader #gender nuetral reader #gn!reader #spiderman x gn!reader #spiderman into the spiderverse #spiderman into the spiderverse x reader #marvel x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales x you #marvel x you #prismuffin

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friendly-reject · 10 months

Text

SpiderVerse x Gn!reader

Content:

Small scenarios from the movie with YOU being slotted in there (Scenes not in order)

Small scenarios not canon in the movie

Implied Mixed reader if you REALLY read between the lines

Talks of a school so, you can think it’s an AU? Or they somehow go to school together 😭😭

Warnings: Swearing, drugs and alcohol, blood mentions

Enjoy :]]

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

>Seeing Hobie take his mask off<

Hobie: I was this cool the whole time

[Name]: And hot, really really fucking hot

Miles: I- What??

[Name]: You heard me Morales

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pavitr: New guy must be in love with you~

Gwen and Miles: *Sounds of denial*

[Name]: Yeah no definitely in lov- *Gets kicked off*

Miles:….Don’t worry they’ve survived worse

Pavitr: THAT DOESN’T MAKE THIS OKAY NEW GUY!

*Splat*

Everyone: Oh shi-

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gwen: So, what exactly was the game plan when we snuck into Miguel’s office?

Pavitr: Well, I don’t think we had one actually *Shoulder shrugs*

Hobie: This is fun isn’t it mates?

Miles: No, believe it or not I do NOT think swinging upside from a roof tied together is ‘Fun’ man!

[Name]: Shut up Miles, who asked you?

Miles: THIS IS YOUR FAILED IDEA! YOU SHUT UP

[Name]: *mumbled* Hater-

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Miguel: Listen Miles, you’re just going to have to accept this

Miles: NO! WHY WOULD I LET MY DAD DIE??

Miguel: Because, it’s part of the can-

[Name]: Look at this guy, really showing us some real DAUGHTERLESS behaviour

Miguel: 👁️👁️….👹

[Name]: SHIT…RUN

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gwen: Where are Miles and [Name]?

Pavitr: Last i saw they were studying?

Gwen: Those two? STUDYING? BULL. SHIT

*They walk to the library*

Gwen: Alright where are thos-

*[Name], Miles and Hobie playing games on their computers*

Gwen: See, studying my ass. HOBIE?? WE HAVE BAND PRACTICE!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Miles: This is why I get A’s in math!

[Name]: This is why I get A’s in Spanish! I mean like come ON!!

Miles: I- well uhhh. I draw better than you!

[Name]:…I’m stealing your parents from you.

Miles: WHAT?!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pavitr: If two mind readers read each others minds, whose mind are they reading?

Hobie: Mate, what’re you on about??

[Name]: Depends did they start at the same time?

Gwen: No, both of you shut up now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[Name]: So we found something…mysterious

42!Miles: Drugs [Name], we found drugs

[Name]: Let’s tell your dad…oh wait 😨

42!Miles: I’ll actually kill you

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*[Name] crashes into 42!Miles’ room bloodied and injured*

[Name]: Oh heyyyyy, how you doin’? 🫣

42!Miles: You’re bleeding on my floors get the fuck out

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Mr. Morales: So, what..what IS this?

*Miles and [Name] just kinda stuck upside down in his room*

[Name]: AYEE, what’s up Mr M, dinner was great last Wednesday :D

Miles: Not the time [Name], not the time at all man

#miles x you #spiderman #spiderverse spoilers #into the spider verse #hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #reader insert #hobie x you #42!miles #spiderman x gn!reader #im gay #Gwen x you #Gwen x reader #Pavitr x reader

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pendragon-writes · 1 year

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Wedding plans

TH!Peter Parker x Gn!Reader

Requested: Yes

Tags: Slight angst with comfort, spoilers for Spider-man no way home, small spoiler about (Earth-616) spider-man comic, No mentions of Y/N. Shorter than usual.

You walked up to Peter, drinks in hand. He was making up the guest list whilst you were getting the venue ready. You set down your respective glasses and looked at the list, which only had your guests. "Hey, Pete you alright? You haven't even put any names down for your guest lists."

"Honestly I'm not feeling alright. You know how I told you about that whole mind-erasing spell that Dr. Strange used and my Aunt not being with us anymore, and well, I don't have anyone I can invite to the wedding." "Well, you could always invite your old college buddies, right? I mean, they knew you after the whole wiping." "I mean I guess. But what if they don't want to come? I haven't seen some of them in ages."

You put your cup down and put both hands on his cheeks, turning him towards you. "Look, I am sure they would not only want to come but will come, if they don't come it's not like we won't have any guests. You've met some of my friends and are well acquainted so we'll still be able to figure things out." You kissed him on the forehead and moved back to your computer.

"Right, after we finish up here how about we walk Sandwich? The weather is perfect and god knows he needs it." Sandwich stood up at the sound of his name and wagged his tail." "You put your cup down and put both hands on his cheeks, turning him towards you. "Look, I am sure they would not only want to come but will come, if they don't come it's not like we won't have any guests. You've met some of my friends and are well acquainted so we'll still be able to figure things out." You kissed him on the forehead and moved back to your computer.

"Right, after we finish up here how about we walk Sandwich? The weather is perfect and god knows he needs it." Sandwich stood up at the sound of his name and wagged his tail." "Yeah, that sounds like a plan."

AN- Please tell me someone got the reference I made lol.

#tom!peter parker #tom!peter x gn!reader #tom!peter x gn reader #peter parker x gn!reader #peter parker #spiderman x gn!reader #spiderman x gn reader #spider man

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01rocketboy01 · 1 year

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Hello Rocket, I stumbled upon your page just today and let me just say I love your Steve one-shot you did! I wanted to request to you headcannons of Spider-man with a vigilante mentor. (Male reader would be preferred but that’s up to you lol) Thanks a lot and I can’t wait to see the things you write!

Thank you so much! This is an interesting prompt, and I kept the relationship mostly interpretive because I wasn’t sure if you wanted more platonic or romantic headcannons!

Warnings: Mention of killing, injuries, mention of fighting, blood, passing out, mention of bad mental health

You helped Spider-Man learn how to fight, of course knowing he was Peter Parker from the beginning

You were fair with him, never pushing him too hard even if he thought he was ready for it

When he started going out on his own, you made sure he texted you constantly, as you were always a bit worried about him whether you showed it or not

“You came?” “You called.”

If Peter ever texted you for help you always get there as quickly as you can

He’s definitely showed up a few times after a hard fight, bleeding and very beaten

Comes in through your window and quickly collapses, causing you to have to carry him to your couch and rush to get the bandages

Even though he has super healing, you’re still worried sick after you patch him up

Probably stay up all night with him as he rests, eventually making him breakfast in the morning

Peter wakes up and is very appreciative, but over breakfast you make sure to give him a safety lecture (he feels bad for worrying you, but you always make sure he knows that you’d rather take care of him than find out about it later)

There is one time that the roles were reversed and you stumbled in through his window

Peter was talking nervously and trying to bandage you the best you could

He made you breakfast in the morning like you did for him, and even gave you his own little speech about safety

You promised him you’d be more careful as long as he would do the same

He likes to tell you all about the things he does on patrol

You taught him not to kill; you've been down the road, and it's hard to come back from. You never want that for Peter, trying to keep him from making your mistakes

You can always tell when Peter is in a bad headspace and are always there to talk him through it

Sometimes he calls you when he feels alone, sometimes all he needs is someone to talk to/listen to and you are more than happy to oblige

Alright enough angst have some wholesome

Peter loves hugs and how could you say no to that face??

After long patrols together you'll take Peter out to get a late meal

Nutrition is important

You never forget his birthday and ALWAYS get him a gift

(He does the same for you, and it's usually a homemade gadget)

His gadgets he makes for you range from mildly helpful to borderline revolutionary

He just wants you to be happy with him (and you are)

That’s all for now! I hope you liked it, and feel free to send in any requests, I love the inspiration!

#spider man #spiderman x reader #spiderman x vigilante!reader #spiderman x platonic!reader #spiderman x gn!reader #spiderman x gn reader

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stellaaarree · 11 months

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LOOK AT HIS POUTY LIL LIPS.ABSOLUTELY BEGGING TO BE KISSED!!

teasing miguel hehe! (fluff)

you come in, miguels most likely messing around with his gizmo. propping yourself on your tiptoes, two fingers hooking into the fabric of his suit you give him a lil smooch!

“¿para qué era eso, bonita? t: what was that for, pretty?” miguel asks, his voice a little raspy and his eyes dumbfounded. “you’re pouting.” you state, still propped on your tiptoes, holding his suit.

in response miguel’s hands land on your hips, picking you up and setting you on the desk, slotting between your legs with an even more pouty expression he grumbles. “i do not pout.” a laugh slips past your lips as you watch him get all defensive. pissing him off further you ruffle his hair. his hard-ass demeanour pleading not to crumble, especially not in the semi public.

“cariño. t: honey.” he hisses. replied with a single “whaaat?” and a giggle. its too late to save himself though. lyla in the doorway, already taking pictures of miguel (our big bad spiderman.) slotted between your legs and having his hair played with as he pouts like a baby.

“lyla.” was all miguel needed to hiss before lyla was already gone, taking her camera with her. that was gonna be blackmail for a while.

you try to do a coy apology, getting half way through your “sor-” before miguel stops you with a “don’t you start, pequeño demonio. t: you little devil.” making you giggle and pull him into another little kiss by his spider suit.

A/N, holy shit!! i came back this morning to see over 200 likes on my posts?! i actually love you all so much!! also was gonna ask, would you guys read stuff that i wrote about ghost (cod mw2)?? let me know haha because i have a few ideas >o<!!💝💝

#miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader #atsv miguel #atsv x reader #spiderman atsv #x reader #reader insert #gn reader

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eyesxxyou · 7 months

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*ೃ˚ :💾 perverted!miguel x reader

❝ warnings ❞ Miguel being a creep, mentions of desk fucking, sneaking into readers room, stealing reader's underwear, masturbation with said underwear, watching reader sleep, mentions of masturbating to reader sleeping

perverted!Miguel who has a crush on a new recruit and is having a hard time managing it. There's something feral that ignites within him around you and it often leads to him being particularly harsh on you because if he weren't, he'd fuck you over his desk in front of everyone, have you squealing his name with his cock bullying it's way into you partially prepared hole.

perverted!Miguel who sneaks into your dorm on campus, rummaging through your things to find any trinket of yours he can keep without you noticing it's missing. He stumbled upon some of your discarded underwear and shamefully takes them into his hands before sniffing the part where the essence of you would have been. He takes them with him, steals them as he goes to leave before you return and find him committing his sin.

perverted!Miguel who uses those underwear to masturbate, wrapping them around the length of his cock and occasionally sniffing them to get a hint of you, like he was eating you out and your taste was all on his tongue. He'd cum on the crotch of the underwear like he's cumming on your hole and wants nothing more than to leave the underwear where you'd find them, used for someone's pleasure though you had not the slightest idea who. No way you'd think it was your boss.

perverted!Miguel who occasionally watches you sleep. He doesn't touch you, though he wants to. He just watches, imagining a world where he'd have the courage to climb on top of you, press his nose to your hair while he pins your hands against the bed and grinds the swell of his cock into your ass just to show you what you do to him. The thought of it makes him hard and sometimes, if he can be quiet enough, he'd masturbate while watching you toss and turn in bed, so peacefully unaware of how he owned you for just a small amount of time.

perverted!Miguel who will never let you know his feelings because he knows you're smart and will start connecting dots. You'll call him a creep, a freak, write him off entirely as just that. He can't have that. He can never have that. So he'll have you in his mind.

#across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #atsv #spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x gn!reader #miguel smut #miguel o'hara smut

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bruisedboys · 11 months

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looking after hobie brown with a split lip and an almost black eye and he won’t stop touching you. it’s extremely distracting and you’d tell him so but you’d hate to see the look on his face when you admit he’s flustering you. so you let him be and scrub at the stream of blood trailing from his lip to his chin. you shuffle up his lap (yeah, you’re in his lap, and what about it? he was the one who put you here. he hadn’t given you much of a choice. insisted it was easier to reach and pulled you into him before you could protest) to get a better angle and his fingers press harder into your hips, his grip on you tightening as he tugs you up his lap, somewhat helpfully. you try to ignore the way it makes you feel. the way you’re now practically chest to chest and he can probably hear your heartbeat, it’s so damn loud.

and then, the very tips of his fingers dip underneath the hem of your shirt and brush your warm skin, and you decide you just can’t take it anymore.

“hobie,” you chide, soft and entirely too flustered.

“what?” he says back, dripping with ignorance, and you’d think he was genuinely clueless if you didn’t know him so well. he pushes his hand further up your back, his rough calloused fingers practically burning a mark on your already hot skin.

“quit it”, you say, though you don’t sound very convincing at all.

“quit what, babe?” hobie presses his palm to the small of your back, forcing you ever so closer. you gasp, pressed up against him, your hands braced on his shoulders, but he only smirks knowingly. “m’only helping you out.”

#guys idk if I’m getting his character right can you please tell me if I am #I’d hate to get his character wrong like that’s so embarrassing #★ mal writes!#ღ hobie #hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x fem!reader #hobie brown x gn!reader #hobie brown drabble #hobie brown blurb #hobie brown fluff #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman: across the spiderverse #spiderpunk #spiderpunk x reader #spider punk

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hoshigray · 11 months

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Had the most random thought, but what if you caught Miguel by surprise and sneaked a kiss on the back of his neck when he's stressed out?

An: Don't mind me, just feeling soft for Miguel because he's corrupting my brain at the moment, lol. Also, wanted to write this to distract me from the fact Pleasurable Practice got smacked with a community label ffs. But, tysm for the love on that fic <33, and [MAYBE] I'll work on pt ii for next week! Thanks again, you lovelies, and enjoy!!

Edited Note: Also, here's an ATSV masterlist I made earlier for your convenience!!

Cw: Miguel x reader - fluff - stressed Miguel bc when is he not - you give him a kiss on the neck - pet names (amorcito/little love, mi alma/my soul; amor/my love) - just you and Miguel being adorbs and him being whipped hehe~

Wc: 902

"Aaaaaarrgh!!!"

You snap away from what you were doing to find where the noise came from. Not to your surprise, it's from your boyfriend — Miguel O'Hara, who's expressing his dismay by throwing another tray full of empty containers you got from the cafeteria.

The man is descending from his [godforsaken slow-ass] station, tapping his feet and huffing by the second. His brows are furrowed in anger, and he moves a hand to soothe his forehead with his fingers. When his post finally stops, he jumps down to sit on a chair and groans into his hands.

That was the third time this week. A villain was supposed to be captured and brought into the Spider Society to be sent back to their own universe; however, that was two days ago. And for some reason, this evil-doer has been hopping in and out of multiple universes. It's been a hassle for the other Spiders to grab hold of them; Lyla has to have eyes on them within every minute of every hour, and Miguel...Obviously, he would like to have this matter taken care of already.

You get up from where you're sitting and walk up behind Miguel, whose face is still covered by his hands with inaudible curses that you can tell are in Spanish. "You okay?"

The rise and fall of his broad shoulders entail a huge sigh seething out of his system. "No, mi amor." He frees his face only to rest his forehead with a hand propped by his leg. "This game of cat-and-mouse has been going on longer than necessary, got Spiders who're tired of the chase — I'm tired, yet there's more stuff piling up and—" He stops himself with another deep sigh, and you place your hands on his shoulders. "I just can't right now...."

All you can do is hum aimlessly while massaging his shoulders, his trapezius and deltoids tense with stress. You understand that a lot is going on for Miguel, giving him his space and letting him do what he does best: being a hero. But of course, being a superhero isn't all sunshine and rainbows, and you're bound to get hit with obstacles that'll hinder your progress. Annoyingly so, if you're a leader of an organization like your boyfriend.

Nevertheless, he's only one man, and you know he forgets this fact when he's too wrapped up in work. He's dedicated to protecting his peers, his home, and you. And although you appreciate the sentiment sincerely, you wish he'd remember to not go too hard on himself before he's burnt out.

You sigh through your nostrils, your hands kneading out any remnants of tension while Miguel indulges before storming back to work. That's when an idea hits you when your eyes land on the back ends of his hair, a smile creeping in slowly. Your hand brushes the lower tufts of his brown strands, and you lean down to press your soft lips on him after pulling his suit to expose his neck.

Immediately, Miguel goes rigid at the feeling of your lips on him. And his breath hitches when your hands wrap around him, pulling him closer to you as you lay your chin on top of his head (which you realize is a rare opportunity as he's taller than you).

"Mi lindo araña," You chuckle to yourself when you notice hints of red sneaking on the lobes of his ears. "The more you stress yourself, the more you look like a grouchy face."

"A grouchy face?" His tone holds slight confusion. "You've been hanging with Peter B. too much, amorcito." He shakes his head while you giggle, and you two sink into each other's presence for a little while, taking in the silence outside of the calming breaths Miguel takes. If he were to confess, it's as if almost all his fatigue has vanished into thin air when he's in your embrace. But he doesn't say anything — he doesn't have to. Because you already know.

You set your lips on his temple. "Feeling okay now?" His body vibrates from a tiny purr, and you remove yourself to stand up straight. "Alright then, I'm gonna go to the cafeteria to get something to share. Because you clearly need a snack. And while I'm gone, pick up that tray and those empty containers off the floor before Lyla has another reason to call you a 'grumpy man-child.'"

His face molds to a deep scowl from the mention of his pixelated peer's name-calling. "I am not a man-child."

You give him a look. "You kinda are."

"And what gives you that—"

"Muñeco," Miguel quickly refrains from arguing when you call him by his nickname, the name only you can use. "If you're not a man-child, why haven't you stood up and done what I asked yet?"

The man opens his mouth, yet no words dare leave. Reddish-brown eyes are honed in on your figure as you survey his reaction, and he exhales in defeat when he stands up from his chair. Your smile flourishes. "I'll be back," is what you say as you turn to exit his domain and head to the cafeteria.

Miguel watches you leave until you're out of his line of sight, unable to fight the twinge of his lips while he moves to pick up his mess like you instructed him to.

"Sólo tú puedes darme órdenes, mi alma."

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spdrvyn · 10 months

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touch-starved headcanons — MIGUEL O'HARA

SUMMARY: miguel isn't the most touchy person when you and him first meet but as your relationship with him developed over time and things started to get more intimate, you discovered new things about his love language.

THIS POST CONTAINS: like my last one. literally nothing but fluff. sleep-deprived and stressed out miguel.

NOTES: do you guys think miguel needs a hug because i think miguel needs a hug, reblog and like if you think that miguel needs a hug because i think that he needs a hu

– through the most painful methods (to his heart), miguel had found out that you really liked touching people. every time you greeted him, it was a big hug that he would hesitate to return. it's not that he didn't enjoy it, it was just that it wasn't something he was used to. it's not like people in the spider society were walking around giving hugs.

– although, it's not like he was opposed to it. it was you, after all. gradually, he began getting more comfortable. resorting to wrapping an arm around you and dragging his hand up and down your back, it would make the hug last just a little longer and he enjoyed the soft gestures. they meant a lot more to him than you thought.

– it took a little time to get him to fully hug you back. the reason for that was how he looked when doing so. he doesn't like being so public about it, he can hear the murmurs and light giggles from the passersby around him when you hug him. besides, the face that he makes is one that he finds quite embarrassing. he looked so content, compared to the stone-faced and distant demeanor he always walked around with at work.

"Miguel!"

He felt his body stiffen as you called out his name, head turning frenetically as to locate where exactly you were calling him from. Not until he feels a finger tap him on the shoulder, he turned around and looked down to see you with a grin tugging at your lips.

He isn't even able to get a single word out as you embrace him, head buried into his chest and arms wrapped tightly around his torso. You're about to pull away before you feel two strong arms envelop you as well.

Your heart fluttered a little. Ever since the start of your friendship with him, you'd gotten used to him not reciprocating the hugs. You couldn't blame him honestly, some people aren't into it but it also perplexed you because it's not like he hated it? Otherwise, you wouldn't have continued.

After a few long moments, he finally pulls back and whatever just happened left a look of awe on your face that he reacted so adorably to. His eyebrows furrowed, lips pursing into a straight line, the crimson eyes that you would lose yourself in averting from yours as a shade of deep red settles on his cheeks.

"So, what are you here for? How'd you even get in?" You wanted to laugh at the strain in his voice, but just this once, you decided to spare him the embarrassment.

Quickly digging into your bag, you bring out a small container. "Admittedly, some of your coworkers were a little... surprised when they saw me head up but I told them that I was your friend and they were slightly less mortified!"

You handed the tupperware over to him as he carefully took it in his hands. "I just wanted to bring you a snack. Haven't seen you in a while so I assumed that things were getting busier around here."

Miguel pried open the container as the scent of freshly baked banana bread wafted through the walls of his office. For a moment, you were concerned that he didn't like it. He stared blankly at the food for a moment before closing it once more to conceal the scent.

"Thank you, that's- that's very thoughtful of you..."

Your head cocked to the side ever so slightly to get a better look at his face, watching lovingly as the blush that painted his cheeks continued to deepen.

Oh, how embarrassed he would be if he knew you could hear his heartbeat during that hug a while ago.

– you weren't all that surprised when the affection picked up ten-fold when you two started dating. whatever sense of yearning and longing for a loving relationship that miguel had was definitely all pouring out now but it's not like you were complaining. if anything, he seemed to be more physically affectionate than you at times. he'd work towards trying to be gentle towards you at the start of your relationship, he was scared that he'd hurt you but once you reassured him that he didn't need to walk on eggshells, he didn't hold back.

– greetings went from hugs to straight up kisses, when you got back home from work and he happened to stop by your shared apartment just to fetch something, he would always pull you into a kiss which would always leave you breatheless by the end of it. whenever you two were watching a movie, he'd constantly have his hands all over you. he liked playing with your body, his fingers would rake through your hair and gentle massage your scalp, his hands would wander down to your stomach to trace shapes into it, then to your thighs to knead into the soft flesh like a cat making biscuits.

– let's not leave out how much he bites as well. he has a tendency for marking you up, sometimes you'd be cooking something on the stove and he'd sneak up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist. when you finished preparing your meal and perhaps wanted to get a change of clothes, you'd see a small bite mark in the crevices in your neck. you were more than okay with it, of course, you just had one rule to not make it uncoverable. a rule that he had forgotten to obey at times because "you just taste so good".

"Fuck..."

You groaned as the blaring sounds of your alarm rung painfully in your ears, you reached over to the bedside table and looked at your phone screen (basically getting flashbanged as you forgot you didn't turn down the brightness last night). It was still early in the morning but you still had tasks to care of and a job to do.

You turn off the alarm and sit up from the bed, wincing as you take a big stretch. You're ready to actually stand up and start the day until an arm wraps around your midsection, forcing you back down onto the bed with a yelp.

Your back hits Miguel's chest as he cages you, his face buries itself into the crook of your neck. "Stay, s'early..." You can hear him mumble, hot breath tickling your skin and it sends a tingle up your spine. You giggle, your hand moving down to the ones that he has firmly digging into your belly.

"No matter what I say, you're going to keep me here anyway."

"Mhm. Just surrender."

You mumble out a small "okay" as you properly settle back into his warmth, a small hum escapes his throat as you can feel his nose digging into his neck and lips pressing the back of your shoulder.

Time seems to pass by slowly, surprisingly enough you're used to this. You barely get to see Miguel some days due to the nature of his job however the moment that you're together again, it all feels so heavenly.

Your train of thought is interrupted when you feel a shift of movement, Miguel maneuvers your body so that you're now facing him.

Only now do you get to see how cute he looks. His regularly slicked backed hair all messy, stray hair strands falling onto his forehead. Lips curled into a small pout and eyes lidded as it seems like he's staring into your soul or something.

"Corazón," He breathes out, your fingers move to cup his cheek. Your thumb swipes at the deep bags that formed under his eyes. "Can I kiss you?"

You let your actions speak for you as you leaned in closer, pressing your lips against his. One of the hands that he wrapped around your waist moves to your hair like always, fingers combing out the locks as the kiss continues to deepen.

Once you two finally part, a small grin makes itself present on your face and on his as well.

You realized now that whatever jobs you had, whatever lives you two lived didn't matter as long as both of you were happy. A thought intensified as he pulled you in for another kiss.

request rules here, masterlist here

#spiderman: across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #atsv #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fluff #reader insert #x reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #fluff #romance #cute #domestic

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clarks-letterman · 2 years

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desirable | doctor!peter parker x gn!reader

a/n — the pictures are so mismatched but i don't have a gif and they all work separately for the fic so yeah- mishmosh pishposh motherf*ckers <3 (this is a jokey but veryyy smutty fic i wrote to get out of writers block)

summary — Infatuated by the doctor treating you, you return with feigned sickness.

words — 2.9k

warnings — SMUT! 18+, throat-fucking, blowjobs, sexy peter parker

~~~

The office was stuffy, or maybe it was your throat swelling, with a scratch that only stuck out when you tried to speak. You scheduled an appointment within an older practice run by renowned Doctor Bruce Banner, who you had little confidence in since he could hardly understand things about his own body. Not that you would discredit someone of his intelligence, but he struggled to control his body at levels of extreme emotion, and dealing with any sickness is never something calm to bear through. He prevailed on your previous visits; that was the only reason you remained slumped against the wall of the waiting room chairs, fighting congestion and an endlessly parched thirst.

After a little while, a nurse in lime green scrubs called your name, prompting you to stand, and followed her into one of the few patient rooms once she checked your height, weight, blood pressure, and temperature. On your first visit, you were surprised to learn about the scarcity of rooms, only to realize that their sizes were far more massive than what would be required for a human-sized head specialist. The bed you sat on, paper crinkling on even the most trivial shift of your body, took up only a fraction of the room it occupied. The other side of the room had a desk and a chair that faced the wall, both oversized to fit Banner's frame but made the computer, keyboard, and mouse sitting atop it look like little playthings. To the left of the bed were a sink, a few hanging otoscopes to check your ears, and some other things you didn't recognize. To your right was the door the nurse walked out of, and no less than five minutes passed before a doctor with a deeper shade of green scrubs entered.

It was a pleasant surprise to learn that your doctor would not be the Hulk himself but a younger male in hulk-green scrubs who had only recently started working for Doctor Banner. Banner was nice but not always careful, especially with his large, discolored fingers. You were happy that he wouldn't be the one to lay a hand on your throat since he could probably crush your larynx with the jerk of a sneeze. Your new doctor didn't seem as friendly as the big guy, though, seized in a look of shock—possibly embarrassment—as he laid eyes on you, then fumbled with his clipboard. It almost fell to the ground but miraculously clung to the tips of his fingers, and he caught the board. He kept his head low and buried, busying himself with your information, hushedly repeating it aloud.

The doctor's face was pale aside from the flush of ignominy, possibly from the same bug you contracted somewhere around New York, though you figured he happened to not get enough sun. Judging by how he carried himself and the awkward chipperness in his voice, you suspected the latter. Yet he filled out his scrubs rather nicely, tautly stretching over his chest and struggling to hide his bulk for someone potentially sun-appalled. It was like he chose a size down from his typical day apparel to tempt his patients, to keep them engaged with whatever boring medical jargon he was most likely to spew out after giving them a diagnosis. You had to admit, it worked.

His short, chocolate curls looked like they had been on the receiving end of many pushbacks with a shaky hand as if he was excessively nervous. He had a simple complexion, easy on the eyes with warm brown hues that challenged the depth of rich soil. His nametag coruscated in the light; black, blocky lettering printed across the laminate—Dr.Parker.

Silence loomed over the room, only backing away when you let out a few sputtered hacks from the back of your throat. A simple coughing fit to others, but it felt like a raging war broke out for the millionth time today on your sore inner muscles. That's when he looked up.

"Sorry I didn't introduce myself. Doctor Parker, and you must be . . ." he hesitated momentarily, scanning the clipboard again—was he that forgetful? His index finger followed the pages of your file before halting, and he spoke your name without his eyes leaving the inky letters. The way it rolled off his tongue felt different than how other people said it, like the set of his mouth was meant to twist and twitch with every syllable. "And a sore throat today, huh? That's gotta hurt."

"Kind of," you said, being courteous about how it hurt to swallow and that it felt like someone was constantly ramming something stiff and sharp down your throat each time you tried to eat the softest foods on the shelf. Doctor Parker moved over to the chair, taking a seat in it. You watched how the backing of the chair reached halfway up to the back of his head when he finally got comfortable in the seat, looking more like an excessively sized dog bed, significantly passing his spread legs. He took ahold of the mouse that filled out his hand—appearing to be more than a handful—and clicked open a few programs until he entered an alterable document. It was complete with information about your previous visits.

"What symptoms have you been dealing with?" he asked, hands resting on the keys underneath the monitor, his beautiful face illuminated by the blank, white screen. You told him about the troubles this illness brought but kept it brief to save your throat the pain later. After you relayed everything to him, his intent ears never missing a slurred or misspoken word, he moved on to diagnosing you.

He got out of the comically-sized chair and drew near. Cold hands met your warmed, overheated skin. "Definitely swollen," he muttered. Only a few words slipped from his mouth since he entered the room, and you hadn't even learned his first name, yet you happily listened and waited for more of his spoken thoughts. If your throat was back to normal, how he held it would have been much more evocative. Was he aware of the effect he had on his patients?

At first, his hands were gentle, like a deer carefully watching its step on an uneven meadow, but they had a growing bite as he started to press into your swollen lymph nodes. The force elicited a painful noise past your lips and a harsh "Ow."

His hands backed away immediately, retreating safely to his sides, and that's when he looked up to your face. You were sure it flushed at his worried glance and not from the sickness.

"Sorry, it's my first day on the job," he half-heartedly apologized.

"Really?" you asked skeptically. Maybe that was why you never saw Doctor Parker before now; he was new.

"No."

"Nervous?" your throat rasped.

His cracked lips stretched, hiding any anxiety he took out on them and forming a brief smile, "Yeah, uh, something like that."

The doctor refrained from putting his hands on you for the rest of the visit, asking you how the infection made you feel and what you noticed during the past few days of dealing with it. He concluded it to be tonsilitis and prescribed a healthy dose of antibiotics that would hopefully kill the infection thriving in your throat. They did their job and had you feeling better within a few days.

From the view of your bathroom mirror, opaque-white lights cast visibility over your throat. The pain was gone, but the handsome doctor's touch never left, his pale hands turning a true translucent as you felt the ghost of them linger. You needed to go back for the resolution, but finding a reason to return would be difficult.

. . .

"Back again so soon? Guess you missed me," Doctor Parker remarked as he came through the door, realizing that you sat on the table in the same position as last time. "Still sick?"

You nodded, rebuffing words out of fear that the first one to slip out would sound unscratched by your throat, harmonious and smooth.

"Did it get worse?" You nodded again. "Okay, huh, open up for me? Sorry, please." The doctor heard how it sounded out loud and took the opportunity to make banter with himself where you couldn't. His hand rose and followed your jaw, his thumb glossing over your chin as the rest nearly missed his touch from the last time. With your mouth open, the tip of his flashlight clicked, and out came the light pouring into the darkness. "You sure the medication didn't work? Still feels scratchy?"

You nodded—again. His hands slid down, two fingers on either side of your throat, feeling around for swelling and unwanted masses. Unfortunately, his touch didn't last long, as he pulled away with a look of certainty.

"I've seen enough. I'll call in for a prescription of antibiotics to kill that lie you're committed to."

Your voice slipped, mistakenly asking in a less husky tone, "What do you mean?"

He pushed the chair away from the desk, the tip of his toe sweeping the ground to swivel him around. "I don't want to catch a case of lying, but I don't think I could because you're not sick."

You let your voice return to normal, no longer feigning malady, "How could you tell?"

He stood, leaning against the tall desk. He folded his arms over his scrubs and scrunched the forest green cotton and rayon, "Your throat's gone down, and, obviously, I prescribed the right thing. Top of my class and all. Why did you do it?"

You trapped yourself in here, and there was nothing else to say but the truth, "I . . . think you're hot?"

"Wow, that's a new one—and a relief. Usually, the patients I see more than once have made-up names and appendages I can't even describe—you'd have to be there! And they always try to . . .kill me."

"What?"

"Hey, don't spin this around on me. I'm the one asking questions, here," he mirrored, uncomfortably shifting away from the desk. "How could you make it up to me?"

The question lingered like the newly raised hand to his chin to signify the thoughts running through his head. Your head started to conjure ideas of what exactly he would do. Doctor Parker didn't seem mad when he learned about the reason behind this contrived visit, but maybe it was how he handled things. He kept calm and probably already called security or would ask you to leave, from what you could assume.

After a few moments of deliberation, he dropped his arms by his sides, "I think the best thing to do, is to give you a taste of your own medicine, yeah?"

With his elbows bent, his hands dug up the hem of his shirt and to the waistband stretching over his flat stomach. The hulk-green elastic slid up to the thenars of his hands with nowhere to go but down, thanks to the pressure he applied, the band easily giving way to reveal his partly defined Adonis belt. It was prominent, but the lines looked as if they were lightly sketched on what was otherwise a perfect sculpture.

"What are you doing?" you had to ask as if it wasn't obvious. His thumbs showed through the outline of his pants and a thicker, more pronounced, and lengthier silhouette just further down. You knew what he wanted; he only had to say it.

"Doing what you want, playing doctor and patient. Today's checkup involves a laryngoscopy—throat examination, if that was too confusing," he spoke as if he was in control but still had the consideration that his soft-leaning look won you over with on your first visit. This time, you saw his hardened and more defined side as he finally let his pants drop to his knees. No underwear. He was confident in a way where other people wouldn't know unless they were close to him.

His cock stood tall, and his balls hung low with enough to push the limits of whatever it entered and was sure to create enough of a smack with each passionate hip-rock. Lengthy enough to reach all the right places, but not enough to go where it didn't belong. A couple of tugs with his right hand later proved the second half of that untrue as he grew even more excited.

"You're gonna have to lay back," he waded near you, half-pulled-down pants restricting his steps so far. With a single hand, he maneuvered you with impossible strength, only ceasing his hold when you were on your back, head titled over the foot of the examination bed. The table paper's end crinkled in your ears.

The fluorescent tubes casting light from above were shadowed by his figure stepping into the frame of your flipped world view. His smooth and defined thighs blocked your peripherals. In only seconds, the dry head of his cock was at your gated lips. He hastily spoke, teasing, "Say, ahh. I'll make it nice and sore, just like you need."

Your lips brushed it as they parted, "Aren't you supposed to make me feel better?"

"This is for me since you wasted my time. Don't worry, it'll only hurt a little," he left you with that, suddenly entering your mouth, lips conforming to the girth.

Your tongue felt the topside of his cock; the small ridge where the wide tip ended, and the length and all of its scattered veins began. It was tasteless, bland, and made even more uninteresting since the doctor took his sweet time. The only thing that saved it and provided excitement were the soft noises he made. He had been talkative up until now, but you still knew how he felt. His moans were enough to discern it. He spewed out hushed 'ohs' and pants, which seemed odd as he was less than halfway in your mouth. That was enough to tell he enjoyed it so far, but you wondered about the distance that far away could be. When he didn't have to guide himself into you anymore, the hand holding his hefty length moved to grip the table—tightly. You could have sworn you heard the metal creaking with the pressure.

His cock snaked forward, earning a sharp gluck once he reached your throat. Then, you convulsed, body shaking at the unnatural mass invading your mouth, lips sputtering around him. He sneered in delight, his own set of lips breaking the set of his face to form a smile. His slow pace stopped when a light tracing of hair grazed your chin, balls low enough to brush your nose. Your throat jutted, his head showing from the outside as a small peak in the middle, made more apparent by how your head was titled back.

Slowly, it began to sink and rise as he started to rock his hips. He started to pick up a pace, burying himself until there was nothing left to hide and reeling it back moments later to rest just short of your lips. Every now and then, he would make you swallow his cock for longer than a few seconds, causing welled-up spit to pour from your mouth and onto him and your face. At a certain point, he broke his rhythm, withdrawing all of himself from your wet encasement. Slicked in spit, his gorgeous length glistened in the fluorescent white.

"Feel good?" You could hardly stutter it out, jaw aching at the corners.

"Yeah, it feels great. Nothing wrong with it so far, but I'd like to consider a re-evaluation."

Familiarity washed over you, the same feeling as moments before returning with more wants. More needs. To your surprise, the hand on the examination table keeping his thrusts steady now rested around your throat. The doctor yearned to feel himself piercing you, putting his breath-taking looks into a literal sense. And he did; your throat unwillingly bulged with his deeply buried cock. An unregulated series of appearing and disappearing beneath his palm and wet noises coming from your spit-filled cavern.

After a few more globs of spit well up and spill from your mouth—making all the noises that were expected along with it—the doctor needily stated that he was "going to come." No less than a second later, warm white poured down your throat with no other option except to be swallowed.

The doctor pulled away, a mixture of release and slobber slicking his cock. He waded to the sink, reaching for a few paper towels from the dispenser to wipe himself off.

You sat up, wiping a hand over your mouth and nose to clear off some of his sticky come and your spit, "What about me?"

"What about you?" He laughed at the end of his return. Once he had fixed himself up to act as if the past twenty minutes had never happened, he went to the computer and took a seat on the oversized chair, like last time.

As he tapped away at the keyboard, he informed you about the changes to your medical file, "I'll put myself as your Primary Care Physician from now on, but Doctor Banner might want to see you soon. I think he'll have a new stress reliever."

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prismuffin · 1 year

Note

Hii! Me again! Oh I loved the Miles one. Could I request another one with Miles x reader where reader is a part of a ninja clan and is the neice/nephew (GN) of the grandmaster. And reader See's Miles (before he gets bit) in trouble, maybe with some thugs, and helps him. Him and reader continue to be friends and eventually start dating. One day Miles asks to meet their family and reader is like, oh yeah sure. And he gets really freaked out because he didn't know reader was a Ninja and the reason they didn't tell him is because they thought it was obvious.

If you need a name for the clan Koga or Iga-ryu.

A/n: an interesting idea to put my mind to the test! I tweaked it a bit but here you go I hope you like it!! (Honestly I kinda don’t like the way I wrote this one I’m so so sorry if it feels rushed I really can't tell if I like it or not!) I sorta changed the plot slightly I’m sorry if that’s a problem!!

“You’re a nin-what?”

Miles Morales x gn!ninja!reader

( summary: Miles, your boyfriend of four months, has asked you to meet his parents on Sunday but your life as a ninja sorta gets in the way )

Warnings?: light swearing, mentions of fighting and bruises, Miles thinking your dad is abusive (he's not, don't worry)

!-!more under the cut!-!

“You want me to what?” “Meet my parents!” Miles smiled and took both of your hands. “Pleaseeee.” You sighed at his puppy dog eyes, dropping your head and mumbling to yourself. You felt one of Miles’ hands leave yours before he cupped your face to make you look at him. “Hey it’ll be alright, they’ll love you I promise.” You pouted and he kisses your cheek. “Plus I already sorta told them you said yes so,” Your mouth was left agape as you took a step back from him. “Miles! What the hell? What if I had something to do!” You crossed your arms. “Do you have something to do?” He asked, and there was a silence that stretched between you both. “…no.” “Exactly.”

You hadn’t lied, you really did have nothing to do that day, or so you thought. Your father, who was the leader of a ninja-esc organization known as the Koga clan, had a job for you. You accepted, because you had to and totally forgot that you were meant to have dinner at Miles’ house with his parents that same day. It didn’t even render for you until he called you in the morning and started ranting about how excited he was. Your heart dropped at the realization, you tried to get some words in to tell him you might have to reschedule but he kept cutting you off, telling you how happy he was that you and his parents can meet and about how his mom is already cooking a bunch of food. You felt so bad with every happy comment that left his mouth that by the time he stopped ranting to you and let you speak you just forced a smile he couldn’t see and told him you couldn’t wait. After hanging up you simply paced your room, unsure of how to go about this. You were meant to go to his house by five, but you just know you wouldn’t be done by then. You didn’t want to make Miles sad but you couldn’t let your father down. Still, it was unfair to your boyfriend to stand not only him up but his parents as well.

You sighed as you sat on your bed, legs bouncing as you weighed your options. Miles meant so much to you, he was there for you whenever you needed and cleaned your wounds from the fights you’d lie to him about. He just assumed you were a troublemaker seeing as the first time he met you, you seemed to be picking a fight with two guys that were two times your size. He was able to stop the thugs from beating you; you could’ve handled it yourself but he didn’t necessarily know that, plus that mission had just gone wrong at every turn so you were grateful that he stepped in. You guys were friends for so long before he confessed to you one night while cleaning an especially bad wound, and you’ve been together since.

You ran to your father to practically beg him to send someone else. When he asked why you told him that Miles had invited you over to meet his parents, your father wasn’t convinced. He told you to tell Miles you wouldn’t be able to make it, and walked right past you.

At the end of the day, you really didn’t have a choice, you’d have to complete your mission. Though, you did convince your father to start the mission an hour earlier and told Miles that you may have to push the time back from five to six or six-thirty. When he asked why you just said your strict dad had made things a bit more complicated. You said that your dad was apprehensive about you meeting his parents and Miles’ solution? Bring your dad with you! You barked out a laugh when you got that text and told him that there was no way in hell your dad would go with you.

Your mission was initially going really well, you even thought you’d be able to make it to Miles’ house on time, but of course everything had to go wrong last minute. The squad that was sent with you got ambushed leaving you completely in the dark. You still got the information even without the help of the others and were preparing to leave only to get spotted last minute and chased out the building. This entire ordeal pushed back your original exit time of 5:30pm to 6:30pm, the time you told Miles you’d show up. So now you were late and injured and annoyed, you were probably making a terrible first impression on Miles’ parents.

By the time you made it back to your father it was well past 6pm and you tried to skip over getting treatment and just rush to get dressed but your father made you sit down to be checked over. You were holding back tears as you noticed the clock. It was around 7:25 when you were able to find texts from Miles asking if you were still coming, the latest one just told you to forget about it and to just stay home. You felt awful, you didn't know how to fix this. You'd texted him back asking him to reschedule but he just left you on read. So now your walking to his house with tons of gifts and food in your hands, hoping that Miles and his family were home and open for a retry. Miles had ignored you for a whole day after and you couldn't take it anymore so you had to not only go see him but also make amends with his family. Getting up the steps of the house were harder than they should've been, not only from you being sore but also because of the weight of the boxes and bags. You placed them down and rung the doorbell, grabbing a bouquet from the top of a box. Luckily Miles was the one to open the door, his face dropping when he realized it was you.

"What do you want?" His question came out harsh and you winced as if it'd physically hit you. You held out the bouquet of flowers towards him, "Miles! I'm really sorry about Sunday! Can we just talk please?" He scoffed and was about to say more but you'd cut him off before he could. "I brought you and your family some things to make up for it." You spoke quieter than before and Miles was silent for a moment, looking at you then to the boxes, then to the bouquet.

When he finally took the flowers from your hand you'd let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in. "...I'll be right back." He shut the door on your face and you sat on the steps hoping that he's not just leaving you there as payback. When the door did open again it was not only Miles but also his mom. You quickly stood up and gave a sheepish wave. His mom crossed her arms and glanced at Miles before looking back at you, her mouth pressed into a thin line, it was clear now that she was waiting for you to speak. "Hi! Uhh my names Y/n, I'm Miles' partner.." You glanced at the boxes, "I'm super sorry I wasn't able to make it on Sunday my dad just made everything very complicated and in the end I couldn't really go and...you don't wanna hear me complain so." You placed a hand on the boxes and gave her an awkward half smile. "How about a do-over..? There's uhm food and also just some gifts for all of you in there, I felt really bad so I sorta went over on the buying." You heard her let out a nose laugh and your eyes immediately snapped to her face to decipher whether it was a mocking one or not. Luckily the large smile growing on her face told you all it needed to. After looking back towards the door where Miles stood with his father, who you swear wasn't there a second ago; they both gave her a nod and she turned back to you and smiled. "A do-over would be nice." You almost cried at those words but you held it back, just glad that you got a second chance.

After helping moving the boxes and bags into a space in the house you'd pulled Miles aside and asked if you could talk to him alone. He led you to his bedroom and shut the door behind you both so that you could speak more privately. "Miles, I'm so sorry I just stood you up-" Miles held up a hand in front of you to get you to stop talking, "It's fine-" "No, it's not..." You grabbed both his hands and sighed. "It's not fine at all.." A silence fell over the both of you again, only this time it was comfortable and not tension filled. You closed your eyes and took a breath. "Miles, I have something to tell you ok?" He nodded, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. "The reason I wasn't able to go on Sunday was because.." You trailed off as you considered really going through with this. You're not supposed to tell anyone but this is Miles, you love and trust him and though it may seem reckless to tell him you felt as though now was the right time. "It's because of your dad right?" He added after you hadn't spoke in a while, "does he...hit...you..?"

"What?"

"What the hell! No, I'm a ninja!"

"You're a nin-what?!"

"I'm a ninja Miles! Oh my gosh what?! I cant believe you- no my dad does not hit me!" A laugh escaped your mouth, the topic being inadvertently funny to you in the moment. "Ok ok ok, backtrack," Miles crossed his arms, "did you just call yourself a ninja? Is this some sort of joke?" You shook your head, "No, my dad sent me on a mission on the same day I was supposed to meet your parents and I didn't realize until it was too late so I couldn't cancel and you just sounded so happy about it so I tried to make it work but then everything went wrong and so I was late and I got hurt so I couldn't rush over-" "You got hurt?" "yes, but that's besides the point." You placed your hands on Miles shoulders. "What I'm trying to say is I'm sorry and I know this whole thing sounds like a joke but I'm serious about it ok?" Miles glanced away from you before his eyes softened and he slowly nodded. "Ok, I believe you.." You smiled and placed your hand on his cheek, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on his lips, which turned into two and then three before a knock on his door broke you both out of it. "Miles whatever you're doing in there you better stop hogging Y/n! I still want to talk to them ya know!" Miles chuckled in embarrassment before yelling to his mom that he'd be right out. He kissed you once more before leading you back to the living room. You helped his mom heat up the food properly so that you all could eat like originally planned. "I don't know exactly why you weren't able to make it here last time but I'm glad you tried again on your own." Your head snapped into the direction of Miles' mom and you smiled. "Yeah I felt really bad, I'm still sorry by the way.." You looked to the floor, "It's alright, you're here now." The conversation lulled off again for a while. "Take care of him." She smiled and continued when you gave her a confused look. "Miles of course, you may be his lover but I'm still his mother and I'd like to know that he'll be safe out there." You gave her a determined nod, "I promise I care too much to let anything happen to him. I'll keep him out of trouble don't worry!" She chuckled at your sudden enthusiasm but nodded. "Good."

The rest of your night consisted of eating dinner with Miles and his family, having his dad slip in sly parental threats into almost every sentence which would be followed by Miles groaning out of embarrassment or Miles' mom scolding, or agreeing with, her husband, All in all, it was a good night in your opinion and you were super glad to have this second chance.

----!----

Thanks for reading! Have a great day/night!!

My requests are OPEN so feel free to request anything! Just make sure you check out my Request Info!

Masterlist

#miles molares #miles morales x reader #gender neutral reader #gn!reader #miles morales x gn!reader #marvel #marvel x reader #spiderman #spiderman x reader #marvel x gn!reader #spiderman x gn!reader #ninja reader #spiderman into the spiderverse #spiderman into the spiderverse x reader #spiderman fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #prismuffin

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yanderestarangel · 23 days

Note

Hear me out—

Dad body Miguel.

TW: SMUT, UNPROTECTED SEX, DIRTY THOUGHTS, CHUBBY/DAD BODY MIGUEL, FTM READER, BRAIN ROT,DILF,PRAISE.

art credits:_Insomniac_RED_ on twitter ( X )

Thinking about DAD BODY MIGUEL makes me feel feral, his voluptuous and soft belly along with some muscles covered by the softness of his skin. He could really walk around shirtless, with some stretch marks on his belly, arms and back from time to time and some hairs could be seen in the middle of his belly matching the scruffy beard on his face. He is a peaceful man towards you and bad tempered towards others.

── Maybe he's your DILF neighbor, tired single dad, obsessed with you.

You can feel his soft belly hitting your ass with every thrust he gives you as he fucks you doggy style, the happy path of hair leading up to his thick, slender cock tickled your sensitive skin while the fat tip of his cock kissed your cervix ─ his scruffy beard rubbed against your skin as he pulled your hair and gave you a clumsy kiss each of his scars glowed from the sweat on his body; you could see the growing gray hair on his arms, chest and even the hair on his head.

He would just shower soft praise on you as he slid his dick with minimal force, turning you to look directly into his eyes. "Eres tan bueno conmigo... apretándome tan fuerte. Keep it up pretty boy, I want to make you squirt for me."

You feel his hot cum leak from his tip as the friction of his soft skin touches yours with each movement ── Miguel uses his thick fingers to stimulate your clit even more, watching you squirt on his belly and dick, making him laugh and look at you satisfied and tired.

"Can you give your old man a break here? I really promise to fill you up later..."

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pendragon-writes · 2 years

Text

𝒫𝑒𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒫𝒶𝓇𝓀𝑒𝓇 "𝒮𝓅𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓇-𝓂𝒶𝓃"

❤️=Romantic 🧸=Child/Teen Reader 💙=Platonic

💊=Hurt/Comfort 💛=Fluff 🌎=Au 📖=Series

Peters I'll do -> TASM. TH. Into the Spider-verse. PS4.

TASM!Peter Parker Dating Headcanons

Proposal Headcanons with TASM!Peter Parker

TH!Peter Parker Dating Headcanons

Wedding Plans (TH!Peter) 💊❤️with GN!Reader

Proposal headcanons with TH!Peter Parker

A Drunk Spider (TH!Peter) ❤️💛 with M!Reader

#peter parker #peter parker x male reader #peter parker x gn!reader #male reader #gn reader #x male reader #gn!reader #male!reader #spiderman x male reader #spiderman x gn!reader

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bluesidez · 16 days

Text

Can’t get Firefighter Miguel out of my head because of the Miggy discord.

content warning: nothing but fluff...for now 😗

word count: 1.3k, not proofread

Next ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅𓌉◯𓇋 Masterlist

Imagine you’re trying to get into baking or something and you’re not used to your oven AT ALL.

Cherry pies? Ruined.

Apple fritters? Apple crisps.

Chocolate chip cookies? Charcoal chip cookies.

Brownies? More like burnt brownie brittle.

Your process would be going so well until it was time to actually put your dessert in the oven and it was like your oven plotted against you.

You set the right temperatures. You pre-heated. You even placed things in the right part of the oven. How is it that everything goes wrong?

The only desserts that saw the light of day were the no-bake ones. You’re not sure how much more no-bake cheesecake you could take anymore.

The day that really sets it off is the day that you attempted to make a simple vanilla birthday cake. Your friend’s birthday was coming soon and you wanted to gift her one of those cute bento cakes.

Your icing is finished and delicious. You’ve been practicing the decorations all week and they were pretty cute! The cake just a few more minutes left to bake, then you could take it out to chill.

As you’re piping a bag of baby pink icing, you look up to see that the room is a little foggy. You turn in a panic and notice puffs creeping from the oven.

“No, no, no!!!” you cry as you turn to open it.

You can’t do anything but cough as a ton of smoke hits you in the face.

Your cake on fire. Orange and yellow light illuminating the oven.

You panic as the fire seems to grow brighter once it hits the air.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god!”

Where was your fire extinguisher? You tried fanning at fire with a towel, but to no avail. You couldn’t even get to the knobs to switch the oven off.

You step back, terrified. You felt like sobbing watching the flames take over. Why aren’t the sprinklers on?

By the time you run out of your house, the fire alarm decides it can sing its tune. You call 911 with a shaky voice, hoping they can get here faster than your alarm decided to make itself known.

You stand outside peeking through your eyes as you could see the flames grow near your kitchen window.

Thankfully the firetruck makes it in time, the firefighters working quick to get inside.

One of them asks is anyone else inside and you shake your head no, thankful that it was just you.

It doesn’t take long for them to put it out and come back outside.

“Are you ok?,” one of them comes to ask you. You look up to this tall, dark, and handsome man. He’s sweating a bit obviously from the summer heat and the fire as he takes his helmet off. His hair is curly and dripping. You ogle him a bit, watching his chest move up and down.

“Do we need to call you an ambulance?” he says, placing a heavy hand on your shoulder.

“Oh! No! So sorry, I’m still a little…winded from everything,” you say, embarrassed.

“Ok, well as long as you’re fine. Do you mind telling me what you were doing?” he asks.

You cast your eyes down. Here was such a fine man standing before you and you had on pajamas and a frilly maid apron with flour splattered on top.

“I was trying to make a birthday cake. As we can see, it completely failed,” you reply. “I don’t know what happened. I followed every instruction. The oven was set at 350 degrees.”

He tilted his head at you as you whined away.

“Is this the first time that something like this has happen?”

You shake your head no, “This is the 3rd burnt dessert in a week.”

“Hm. Well I’ll have the crew here check it out.”

An hour and some change later, one of the firefighters tells you and the tall glass of water, who learn is a captain named Miguel, that you have a damaged gas line.

“You’re really lucky that you were only getting blackened sugar. One more cake and that could have been the end,” Miguel says to you with hand on his hip and another on your shoulder. “And also, never open the oven if there’s a fire. If this happens again, turn the oven off and wait until it dies down.”

You felt your head nodding, heart beating at how awkward everything felt.

Miguel looked down at you again, “Do you have anywhere you can stay over night? Or until I can get someone up here to get this gas fixed?”

“My grandma lives a couple of streets down,” you say, cheeks heated at his intense eye contact.

“Tell you what, how about you settle there for the night and I’ll come back personally to help you grab your belongings tomorrow morning?”

“That would be amazing! Thank you so much. I’m sorry for all of this,” you gesture to your house.

“It happens. Nothing you did here was your fault. Besides, I’m the captain. Fighting fires is what I do. Now, how about a ride in the truck to your grandma’s?”

You feel giddy when he practically pulls you in the truck. No seats are left so you have to settle for sitting on Miguel’s lap, heartbeat racing.

The other firefighters try to hide their smirks and snickers watching their captain hold you so softly in his arms. One big bump in the road has you clinging to him to not fall off.

You straighten back up, embarrassed by the little slip. Miguel chuckles at your actions.

You pretend not to hear their wolf whistles as he guides you to your grandma’s front door.

Miguel knocks firmly, waiting with you until she opens it.

She’s about to fuss at you for not stopping by sooner until she looks up at Miguel.

“And who is this?” she says, a bit shocked.

“My name is Captain O’Hara. I just wanted to drop your grandbaby off. Had a little baking accident.”

Your grandma listens to Miguel as he explains the situation calmly and professionally. It doesn’t stop her from fussing over you, grabbing and turning you to check for any damage.

“I’m ok grandma. I just have to stay here while my gas gets fixed.”

She thanks Miguel profusely, “Son, what’s your favorite food? I’ll have it made and sent down there for you.”

Miguel laughs heartily. You’re about to tell him he doesn’t have to answer that until he beats you to it.

“Whatever your specialty is, I’ll take it,” he says with a sweet smile on his face and holding your grandma’s hands.

“Cap! We gotta another fire at the college dorms. Someone burnt noodles in the microwave again,” a firefighter yells from truck.

“Well if you all can excuse me, duty calls!” he says and runs back to the truck.

“I can’t believe you burnt a cake! Haven’t I taught you better? And you know you’re making him that food, right?” your grandma says as you step inside.

“Grandma,” you say, affronted. “It was the oven, not me! And he might not want to even eat what I make after this.”

“Hmph,” she says, with a click of her tongue. “Well, you better get ready to use this kitchen here. You need that man as a husband.”

“Grandma.”

“I have some ham hocks in the freezer, some turnip and mustard greens. I think the church sent me some potatoes. We need to go to the store too. You gotta get him through his stomach.”

“Grandma!”

There was a silence as you and your grandma stared at each other.

“So are you thinking pork chops or catfish to go with the side dishes?” she said, grabbing a pencil and an empty envelope.

You just groaned and crumpled in your chair.

divider by: @benkeibear ❤️‍🔥

the grandma convo is heavily inspired by my own grandma lol. tagging @miguelhugger2099 @kit-and-wolfe @huniedeux @ugh-ok-fiyn because I want y’all to see this 😗

#love lab drabbles 💊#Firefighter!Miguel ❤️‍🔥#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o’hara x gn!reader #miguel 2099 #spiderman 2099 au #spiderman 2099 x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #x black reader #miguel x black reader

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