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eagerbby · 2 years

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ʙᴏᴏ? - ᴇ.ᴍ

pairing| Eddie Munson x female reader

synopsis| It was supposed to be a joke, payback, revenge, until it spiraled completely out of control. Just your luck.

an| inspired by the prompt "I hid in your closet to scare you as a joke but when you came in you started masturbating and I can't just get up and leave but if I get caught in your closet you'll think I'm a pervert I regret my life choices" from here. my brainrot is thriving.

warnings| 3k, masturbating (m), reader being a perv obvi, illusions to sex, 18+ folks

part 2

It escalated quickly; too quickly to even process what you were doing, and what you were doing wasn’t even a good idea to begin with, but it was the only thing you could think of.

The Hellfire Club was currently in the midst of a rather heated prank war, started of course by their relentless leader himself, and you had slowly been dragged into the cruel web he had begun to weave three weeks ago.

It was annoying at first, Eddie jump scaring you every chance he could. Jumping out from behind the cafeteria doors, slamming his hand against the locker next to yours while you were in deep thought digging through your own locker, or four days ago when he hid in the backseat of your car only to reveal himself once you’d hit five over the speed limit on the main road home; you almost crashed your car that day because of him.

He was a menace and although the other guys had it much worse than you, Eddie seemed to take more pleasure from simply spooking you. But at least it wasn’t shaving cream in your book bag like poor Gareth or when he stole the chains off Mike and Dustin’s bikes before school ended leaving them stranded -although he did give them a ride home after they got down and praised King Eddie- in hindsight you were getting off pretty easy in comparison.

But still, that last prank got to you, the seriousness of almost wrecking had scared you shitless. Enough that you had to pull over on the side of the road, trying not to break down in front of him. He had felt bad, you could see it on his face as he tumbled into the front seat and begged you to not cry, but you were just so mad you kicked him out of your car and drove off.

That’s how your little plan came to fruition. You skipped your last period just to make sure you’d beat him to his cozy little trailer on the outskirts of town, greeting his uncle Wayne as you ducked under his arm and into the living room.

“Whatcha doin’, kiddo?” He asked, blue eyes narrowed in amusement.

“Gonna scare the shit outta your devious little shit of a nephew.” You say simply as you fill a glass with cold water from the tap.

Wayne catches the wild glint in your eye, the mirror image of the one his nephew harbors in his own big brown ones. The older man could only shake his head, muted blue eyes dancing with amusement as he said..

“Give him hell, dollface.” Before he’s headed down the porch steps to his beat up Chevy truck.

Which brings you to right now, stuffed tight in Eddie’s messy closet, the fake fur of his creepy Alf costume tickling the back of your neck, your heart thudding loudly in your chest when you finally hear the loud wail of metal and the screeching of tires against gravel.

There isn’t much to your plan here other than jump out and make him scream. Make him regret fucking with you so hard the past three weeks. You’ve been giving him the cold shoulder since you both almost died -he’s lucky you had just got your brakes changed, a week earlier and you both would have been seriously hurt- which meant he wouldn’t be expecting your revenge, instead thinking you were still pissed. Which you kinda were, but he didn’t make it easy. He’d been groveling nonstop since it happened, bringing you little presents in hopes you’d forgive him, and you had but you still wanted revenge.

You hear him as he bounds up the steps, humming to himself, he slings the front door open followed by the sound of the lock clicking in place. Your fingers tremble in anticipation, adrenaline bleeding heavily from your pores. It’s unbearably stuffy in his little closet, sweat beading on your forehead and between your breasts, and the only light comes from a crack in the sliding door giving you a full view of his mirror. You can see him in its reflection, coming down the hall with his wild hair bouncing around his shoulders, eyes locked onto the cassette in his hands.

He enters his cramped bedroom and goes straight to his tape deck, the pink tip of his tongue trapped between plush lips as he stuffs the tape in and hits play, surprisingly turning the sound to a reasonable volume. As the music softly spills from the speakers he shrugs out of his denim vest and jacket combo, pulling his black tattered Iron Maiden shirt with the sleeves haphazardly cut off over his head. As he tosses it to the floor, the lyrics of the song he’s skipped to floods your ears. You know this song, love this song, fuck, you showed him this song. He’s humming along to it as he kicks off his sneakers, shimmies out of his black ripped jeans, calloused fingertips gliding gently down his soft tummy into the waistband of his boxers.

Okay, what the fuck. You clamp your eyes shut before you can see too much. This is absolutely, positively, not part of your plan. His bed springs groan as the lyrics echo around his room and you sit in his closet with your hands over your eyes trying not to breathe too loud.

Let's get away, just for one day,

Let me see you stripped down to the bone.

It was your Depeche Mode cassette, the one you’d lost a couple weeks ago and tore your room and car apart in a frenzy to find. You never did and now you know why; because you dear friend Eddie had stolen it.

Fuck this, you think to yourself as you raise off your feet in the cramped space. You’re about to bust out, ask him why he sat there and listened to you whine for days about your missing tape knowing full well he had it, when you hear something that makes your body freeze.

It’s soft, gentle as a breeze, but loud enough to still hear over the song playing from his speakers. A moan, shaky and almost desperate, and you can’t help when you peek out the slit of the door and catch sight of him in the mirror. Your mouth goes dry, eyes so wide they must be bugging out of your head, you’re looking into a mirror except you can’t see yourself, no, but you can see him and the sight is fucking beautiful.

Eddie’s laid out long ways across his bed, bare feet planted on the shag carpet just a couple feet from your hiding spot in the closet, his eyes are closed and his fist is wrapped tightly around the head of his cock.

“O-oh f-fuuck.” He whines, thumb dragging across his weeping slit, smearing the precum that beads there across the red mushroom head of his rather thick cock. Jesus, you had shamefully imagined what he was packing under those tight pants he always wore, usually alone at night in your bed, but never did you think you’d actually see it. Especially not like this.

Oh, this is wrong, so fucking wrong. You shouldn’t be here right now watching him thrust up slowly into his cock, shouldn’t lick your lips as he roams his hands over his bare chest, his fingers tweaking a nipple making his cock visibly twitch at the sensation. You shouldn’t be wet between your legs, squeezing your thighs together as best you can without moving much or making any noise. This is perverted, sick and twisted, a complete violation of Eddie’s privacy, but what are you supposed to do? You should have jumped out as soon as he came in, should have stopped him as soon as he got his shirt off, but instead you stayed frozen in place among Eddie’s clothes and now it was too late. You couldn’t just cover your eyes and leave, no that’d be horrifying for the both of you. Which left only one option; wait for him to finish and hope to a God you weren’t sure you believed in that he leaves right after.

But that’s also a problem because you can’t not hear the pretty moans that fall from his lips. Can’t ignore the way the bed frame creaks as his hips pick up a steady pace. Can’t stop looking into that stupid fucking mirror and biting your lip at the sight of him completely lost in his pleasure.

You are so going to hell.

“Oh, fuck, baby. J-just like that.”

Your pussy floods at just the mere sound of his voice, clouded with lust and his impending orgasm. You can see how close he is, his tummy flexing hard as his hand fucks his cock faster. He isn’t gentle with himself, not like before, fucking his fist with fast sloppy thrusts of his hips as he presses his head back into his ruffled sheets. You can’t peel your eyes from him, can’t stop the constant squeeze of your thighs as your body begs for some kind of friction. And you definitely can’t stop the looming thought that if you get caught Eddie will probably never talk to you again.

You wouldn’t blame him.

There’s a new song playing but you can’t really hear it, aren’t even paying attention, not when Eddie shifts up to lean on one elbow to watch himself work. He gasps at a rather rough flick of his wrist, biting his lip as his eyes flutter closed, his long black lashes dancing across his pale skin. You’re trying so hard to stay quiet, watching intently through the mirror.

You watched porn before but this, this was better than anything you’ve ever seen, and if you weren’t such a coward -and if you weren’t hiding in his fucking closet- you’d fall to your knees in front of him. Beg him to come all over your face, down your throat, in your tight pussy. You’d find your filthiest words, bat your eyes all innocent, drag your nails over his hairy thighs, just to see him cum. To watch his face scrunch up and mouth fall slack as he painted you all pretty in his hot seed.

Yeah, if you didn’t get caught -and probably still if you did- you were so using the sight of your best friend fucking his fist to get off later.

Maybe you were a pervert after all.

Eddie’s moans are getting louder, hot breathy noises falling from his bitten lips, he’s visibly having a hard time keeping his eyes open, obviously lost in whatever scenario he is conjuring up behind his eyes. Your hands were gripping the fabric of your skirt as tight as you can, trying your best to restrain from shoving your hand underneath and thrusting your finger deep inside your tight, wanting, hole. His fingers would feel so much better, long and thin, you know they must be talented considering how good he is with a guitar. All this thinking has your chest heaving, hands shaking, breathing slowly in and out of your nose. You can feel your willpower slipping away, gone without a trace, you need him to hurry up. There’s no way you’re gonna be able to handle this much longer.

But then Eddie says something so out of left field, so far from anything you’ve ever heard come from his mouth, that your brain completely malfunctions.

“Just like that, y/n. I wanna be inside you so bad, baby.” It’s all a tangled whine, your name a quivered pant, and you gasp so loudly you make yourself jump, backing up deep into his closet as you watch his head spring up.

Silence. Horrible, retched, silence as you cover your mouth with a shaky hand and close your now watery eyes. He heard you, you know it, and now all the heat and blood have left your aching core to wash over the apples of your cheeks. Hot like lava, the embarrassment of being caught doing something so wrong makes your eyes water.

He’s never gonna speak to you again.

There’s a click as the tape deck stops and then the drag of his closet door sliding open and you want to drop dead where you stand.

“Y/n” Eddie asks, all quiet and gravelly, arousal still heavy in his throat. You can’t look at him, can’t dare raise your eyes away from your feet.

“Boo?” Out of all the things you wanted to say, that was the only word to come out, soft as a whisper.

“W-What are you doing?” Good question, you think. What the fuck are you doing?

“It’s not what you think.” You say quickly with a dark humorless chuckle, eyes bouncing to his before you completely fucking regret it and lower them back to the floor. He looks too good right now with his pupils blown wide and a sheen of sweat on his bewildered face. “I was go-gonna get you back for scaring me so much, but then you started…” You gesture your hand in the direction of his cock, braving a quick glimpse before slamming your eyes shut. He’s still naked, standing in front of you with a pillow covering his bare waist, and it’s just too much.

“How much d-did you hear?” He asks softly, shuffling from foot to foot as he scratches the back of his neck. His nervous tick.

“Uhm, well, not… not a lot…” It’s kinda comical how unbelievable you sound and Eddie must think so too because he huffs out a laugh as he backs up to his bed, plopping down on the side of it and adjusting his pillow shield.

“So you heard everything then. Fucking fantastic.” You step out of the closet finally, shuffling quietly against the carpet as you close the door back and face him, hands clasped together in front of your chest.

“Are- Do you hate me now, Eds?” You ask, perturbed, fiddling with the black and red yarn bracelet around your wrist. The same one Eddie wore; a friendship bracelet he’d given to you after the first time you’d hung out one on one.

Eddie seems puzzled by your question, going to stand before he quickly realizes he’s only wearing a pillow. “Wait a second, will ya?” He asks and you nod covering your eyes as if you hadn’t just been watching him jerk off. When he's done, presumably getting dressed, he taps your elbow and when you don’t uncover your face, he grips your forearms softly and guides them away. He offers you a friendly smile when you meet his doe eyes.

“I don’t hate you.” He says softly, the heat of his fingers leave goosebumps on your skin.

“I would.” You mumble, shifting from one foot to the other.

“I thought you were mad at me?” He asks, trying to catch your eye but you’re too busy counting the tears in your worn out converse.

“M not mad. I just wanted to get you back.” You offer and out of the corner of your eye you can see him nod.

“Glad you’re not mad still.” He says and then, “How’d you get in, sweetheart?”

“Wayne let me in, before he left. I skipped last period to get here before you. I swear, Eddie, I only wanted to jump scare you like you’ve been doing to me for the past month, I-I didn’t- I didn’t know what to do when you started..”

“Hey,” He chirps, grabbing your chin between his thumb and index finger, and you try not to think about where that hand just was because if you do you’re gonna start thinking about the sounds he made while it was wrapped tight around his- no stop it.

Even in the middle of the most embarrassing conversation you’ve ever had, your thoughts betray you with images of his hot, rock hard, cock.

“It’s no biggie, really. I should have figured something was up, Wayne never leaves the door unlocked.” He’s fucking smiling at you now, a full smile that shows his teeth and crinkles the corners of his eyes and for some reason unknown to you; it really irritates you.

“No biggie?” You cry, pushing him away from you, and his face falls but you can’t handle him being so close to you right now. “You just caught me spying on you while you jerked off, but it’s no biggie?”

“Yeah, no biggie. No big deal.” Eddie draws out his words, hand rolling in the air as he elaborates. “I’m not mad at you. No biggie.”

“Eddie, I feel like such a perv-” You start, eyes still watery with shame, but Eddie cuts you off.

“You literally watched me jerk my dick while thinking about you, I think we’re both falling pretty hard on the pervert line here, sweetheart.”

You look him in the eye, finally, trying to judge if he truly means what he says. You find honesty, and something else you can’t quite decipher, with his gaze locked onto you and you nod and give him an unsteady smile before sinking onto the edge of his bed.

“‘M sorry.” You tell him. “Really.”

Eddie shakes his head, sitting down next to you in only his boxers, and places a hand on your bare knee. That fire surges again, deep in your bones, shooting through you like a bullet at the small contact.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m no worse for wear because of it. Kinda-” He trails off for a moment, reaches back to scratch at his neck again. “Kinda hot thinking about you watching me without me even knowing.”

Oh. Oh.

You really should have figured he’d be into it. Little freak.

“Was kinda hot watching you…” You offer shyly, biting your lip as Eddie beams at you.

“Yeah?” He asks, his nose scrunching up all cutely as his cheeks flush.

“Mhm, you know I’ve had a crush on you since, like, forever right?”

“Okay, don’t fuck with me like that.” He warns, umber eyes searching your smiling face.

“Not lying.” It’s simple, matter of fact. Eddie blushes even deeper.

“Well, fuck.” He runs a hand over his face, unable to wipe the cheesy smile from his lips. “I guess I don’t have to tell you I feel the same, huh?”

You laugh at this, leaning your head onto his bare shoulder. “No, I think I got the message in technicolor. You could put the porn industry to shame, Eddie.”

“You’re gonna give me a big head, sweetheart.”

“You already have one, Eddie.” You say, eyes falling to his lap.

Eddie chokes out a laugh in disbelief, shoving you back onto the bed to hover over you.

“You’re a little minx, aren’t you? Who woulda thought.” He teases with his face buried in your neck, lips ghosting across the sensitive skin there.

“Don’t you have Hellfire Club or something, you horn dog?” You ask acerbically and yet you still push your hips up to meet his when he bites down on your jugular.

“Mhm, they can wait. Found something better than playing D&D in a cluttered theater room.” He hums against you, lips following the curve of your jaw with feather light kisses.

“The guys would kill me if I was the reason you didn’t finish the campaign tonight.” You push him back by the shoulders smiling up at him as he watches you giggle at the sight of his bangs lifted up off his forehead.

“I can always just kill them all, they’ll be more mad about that.” He dives back to your neck, sucking and licking every inch of skin he can find, and as much as you want to stay here in his bed and fuck like bunnies; you’d hate to be the reason he was late. So you push him again, harder this time, until he rolls off you with a groan, slamming his fists into the mattress as you stand.

“You know I never got to cum, right? I’m aching right now, need you to help take my pain away, baby.” He’s pouting, lips jutted out, eyes like a puppy, and everything in you is screaming to give in to his guilt trip, help this poor helpless man out.

But that wouldn’t be any fun. So you lean over him, hands on either side of his head, and kiss him slowly. Mold your lips against his, drag your teeth sensually over his bottom lip, give him the most sultry look you can muster. It must work because his whole body shudders under your, desperate hands snaking up your skirt to grab your ass.

“Go to Hellfire, Eddie.” He groans at your words in disappointment, head falling back into his sheets.

“You’re mean.” He whines, slapping his hand firmly onto your ass cheek. You hiss at the pain that ebbs to pleasure and take his jaw in your hand, forcing him to look at you again.

“You didn’t let me finish. Go to Hellfire and maybe, just maybe, I’ll give you a helping hand after.” You lean down, tongue grazing the shell of his ear before whispering, “A helping hand, an open mouth, a tight wet pussy.”

Another shiver and his hand gripping tight on the back of your neck pulling you up so you can see his wicked, lopsided, grin.

“That’s not helping my little problem, baby.”

You giggle. “There’s nothing little about your problem, Eds.”

Eddie groans loudly, covering his face with the back of his arm but you’re swatting it away, giggling at his fiery red cheeks. You shower his face with kisses, every inch of rosy skin, until he's pulling you into his chest and caressing the edge of your jaw as he gazes at you with stars in his eyes.

The look in his eyes tells you your friendship is no longer that, instead there's a promise lying in his shimmering irises, something that was always there but you could never figure out the meaning to it. Maybe you were always destined to be more than friends, maybe this crazy -fucking bizarre- series of events was fated. You and Eddie, not as friends but as something more. Maybe the two of you were written in the fucking stars or something.

You’d like to find out.

So you kiss him once more, different than before, savoring the way he follows after your lips, how he cradles your head so tenderly as he kisses you back with the same fervor. Too soon you’re climbing off of him, smoothing out the pleats of your black checkered skirt as he watches with that endearing little pout.

“Lets go, Dungeon Master, the masses await thee.” He takes your outstretched hand, raising to his feet. He looks down at himself, in only his green boxers, and smiles at you all cheekily.

“Think they’d still respect me if I showed up like this?”

You pick his jeans up off the floor and place them in his hands. “Mm, probably not. But I’ll help you get undressed later, like I said, helping hand and all.”

“Fuck, my little minx.”

#if you see me posting this and not updating my other wips no you dont #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #stranger things smut #stranger things fan fic #stranger things x reader #eddie munson

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19burstraat · 2 months

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Random SOC Trivia I Gathered On My Reread

I'll be using this for fics, but it's fun just to read!

Jesper does not hold alcohol well (though this is according to Kaz, who is not exactly impartial)

Wijnstraat, Nemstraat, Havenstraat, Ammberstraat are all street names if you want em

Van Eck has been involved in trying to clean up the Barrel; pious. (Allegedly pious, I doubt he really is)

1/5 Van Eck (or general Kerch trading?) vessels are lost at sea

Kaz arrested three times at ten, twice at eleven, once at fourteen. Does stints in jail but it does not say prison (ppl assume he's been to Hellgate / another prison but I don't think so. He'd never have shut the fuck up about it if he had; I assume the Stadhall Jail)

Kaz's cane is lead-lined. I wasn't sure if this was canon or fanon

Kaz runs book on prize fights, horses, and chance games. Floor boss at crow club since fifteen-ish. Youngest to run a betting shop and has doubled the profits.

Gambling halls: Treasure Chest, Golden Bend, Weddell's Riverboat, Silver Garter

West Stave brothels: The Blue Iris, The Forge, The Obscura, the Willow Switch, the House of Snow

Van Aakster is the widow mercher who sees Nina to ease his grief

Inej likes orange cakes in white paper

Black Tips tattoo is a hand with first and second fingers cut at the knuckle, Razorgulls is 5 birds in wedge formation

Nina Jesper and Kaz definitely all have the crow and cup; the others don't

Jordie seems to like books

ridderspel and spijker are arcade games

Bilge, clams, and wet stone smell in the Barrel (per Retvenko)

Kaz definitely is partial to dogs; Smeet's hounds and the grey dog the Hertzoon household had, the windup dogs, the metaphors. He loves a dog metaphor sorry ur not real babycakes you'd have loved thematic web weaving posts

Geldspin is the cotton mill in Zierfoort, Firma Allerbest is a cannery. Both in Alys' name

Wylan was 8 when Marya 'died'

the black veil tomb is carved like an ancient cargo ship

3 flying fish on a grave: government. Palm trees and snakes: spices.

Inej's mother braids her hair with orange ribbons (colour of persimmons)

University a series of buildings built around the Boekcanal and joined by Speaker's Bridge (where people debate and/or drink). Boeksplein four libraries built around a central courtyard and the Scholar's Fountain

Shipping container at third harbour is a Liddie hideout; Jam Tart House is an old hotel near the slat that the Razorgulls use

Long scar across Kaz's right knuckle

Violating contracts and interfering with the market can get you hanged in Kerch; same sentences as for murder (this is. Insane)

Haskell holds court with his mates at the Fair Weather Inn every week

Belendt is the second oldest Kerch city and sits on the Droombeld River

Jesper was 7 when Aditi died

Inej has an uncle (who seems to have some sort of ringmaster role) and cousins; Hanzi and Asha

Kaz convinced a locksmith in Klokstraat that he was the son of a wealthy merchant who highly valued his collection of priceless snuffboxes, and that's how he knows what locks the rich are using

Hubrecht Mohren, Master Thief of Pijl, who Kaz doesn't appear to think much of; one of Haskell's old cronies

Martin Van Eck, Wylan's great great grandfather, was a ship's captain, brought back a big shipment of spices from Eames Chin and started the Van Eck fortune

Kaz and Jesper (+ other Dregs boys) taught Inej to fight

Kaz and Jordie are from a town near Lij, as per the 'Johannus Rietveld' exposition, but Lij is seemingly the closest major city/county so it's easier to just say they're from Lij lol

The last time the Council of Tides appeared in public was 25 years prior to CK

Kaz found Filip running a monte game on Kelstraat; he also got the clerks who turned over fake info, the fake attorney, the man who gave them free hot chocolate

The spelling of Zentzbridge lapses to Zentsbridge, not sure which is right or if they're actually separate bridges or if there's a lot of wrong quotes floating around lol

Dryden house symbol is the golden wheat sheaf bound with a blue ribbon; Van Eck is the red laurel but we knew that

Kaz taught himself finance and gambling hall rules

Church of Barter roof is copper and long has turned green

Church of Barter built around the First Forge / The Mortar, which is a flat lump of rock that's supposedly Ghezen's altar

Ghezendaal Hospital is. Idk. a hospital. Just thought ppl might want the name

#six of crows #crooked kingdom #grishaverse #soc duology #shadow and bone #my post

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callsign-relic · 8 months

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Hello! Can I get a romantic scenario of First Contact AU with Yandere TFP Optimus and female human? Maybe she's a bystander who caught his optics, and he decided she'd have a better life with him.

Like, look at this human nest he set up for you, right beside his own berth. There's even functioning water system, electricity, and all. Much better than your apartment, right?

Thank you!

Hi!! Thank you for being my first TFP Optimus request! And yandere on top of that?? AND FIRST CONTACT??? You have excellent taste >:)

It was fun exploring this kind of character for Optimus, I hope you enjoy!!

Warnings: SFW, Fem!Human!Reader, Yandere, First Contact AU, kidnapping

The moment Optimus laid his optics on you, he knew a helpless little creature such as yourself needed to be kept safe.

By sheer coincidence, you were caught in the crossfire of a battle between Optimus and a handful of Decepticons. You dodged and weaved between the heavy footfalls of the gigantic metal titans above you, trying to at least find a decent place to hide. Pieces of metallic armor clashed to the floor beside you as Vehicons fell left and right— the booming sound of the Prime’s blaster fire nearly rupturing your ears.

Black and purple obscures your vision as another ‘Con grunt crumbles to the floor in front of you, and you just barely manage to dodge out of the way. The moment you think you’re home free, however, a shadow casts itself over you, and you swallow as you dare to look up.

A grey pede, readying itself to land upon you.

The towering blue and red mech had cleared the area and was merely shifting his stance. He hadn’t the slightest awareness that you were there.

By reflex, you let out a shrill scream, cowering into yourself on the ground and hoping your demise is quick and painless—

But a deep tremor within the earth and the sound of clanging metal mere inches away from you allows you to let go of the breath you were holding.

Apprehensively, you lower your arms from your face and pry your eyes open, and you lock eyes with a steely blue stare. You’re practically directly under the metal titan, as he takes a step or so backwards to properly examine you.

Optimus was not aware that earth was populated with these… tiny, Cybertronian-like beings.

He suddenly drops to a crouch before you, and the breeze from his movement rushes past you, leaving you flinching and raising your arms to protect yourself once more. He removes his faceplate with a tinny click, and you can see his lips purse in curiosity as he tilts his helm. A massive black servo reaches down to your curled up body, and a finger longer than your entire form pushes its way up against you.

Slowly, your arms are forced away from your face, and you have no choice but to stare up at the alien mech with your stinging red eyes. Your chest trembles with your sobbing breaths as the giant above you studies you like you were a bug struggling to free itself from a web.

That massive digit pulls away from you with ease, but no relief comes to you as you watch it instead wrap around behind you. More of his fingers follow suit, and slowly, you’re lifted up higher and higher into the air until you can’t deal with it anymore and shut your eyes, hoping this was all some terrible nightmare that you needed to wake up from already.

Raising himself to his full height, with his free hand, Optimus presses his index finger into your stomach— prompting a little squeak to come from, what he assumed to be, your intake. You were so small in his hold. You rested nearly flat against his palm, yet that was still not enough to cover the expanse of it. And the way his finger only pushed further and further into you the longer he held it there, you were so… soft. Fleshy. Squishy. A texture unlike anything he had seen upon Cybertron.

A new sensation just barely registers itself into the nervecircuits on his finger, and he shifts his attention just a little to see your face. Your eyes were red and your cheeks were stained with an odd liquid trailing down them— that being the thing Optimus must have felt land on him just moments before. You open your mouth and out emerges a series of noises the Prime couldn’t understand. He wasn’t sure how to describe it— squeaks? Chirps? Trills, maybe? Whatever they were, they enraptured him, and the mech paid the utmost attention to how your mouth so perfectly formed around your noises.

You appeared to be so distraught, poor little thing. It made sense, you had nearly been crushed underpede, after all. The terrified look on your face tugged at Optimus spark in the worst way. “I am sorry, little one,” the Prime offers gently, dragging his finger up from your stomach onto your chest. Then, the mech’s optics widen as he sees your tiny hands reach up to grab the tip of his digit.

You struggle with all of your might to push his massive weight off from on top of you. You could barely breathe with such a pressure atop your lungs, and you shouted up at him to let go, or loosen up, anything.

Meanwhile, Optimus only finds himself further enamored.

Poor creature in his palm, finding no other comfort but in the unconventional hold you kept on his finger. He was right, you must have been utterly terrified at this moment. Optimus couldn’t live with himself if he just left you there.

A little organic, scared and alone, suddenly thrusted into a new world and surrounded by things you couldn’t begin to understand…

You would be much better off if you stayed with him. You would be kept perfectly safe under Optimus’ constant watch, never having to fear finding yourself caught between fights you had no place in. He didn’t know much about organics just yet, especially not of earth’s, but he would do the utmost to assure your comfort. You would never have to feel scared again.

And so, Optimus came to his decision.

He pulls his digit away from you once more, and for a moment, you think your pleads have come through to him. Though, you don’t even have a moment to attempt to communicate once more as you can hear the hydraulics of the mech’s fingers behind you suddenly start to shift. Slowly, you’re tilted within his hold as the digits wrap themselves around your body into a fist. Then, before you can even attempt to struggle against it, you’re brought down from his face and near his chassis. The only sight you’re met with is Optimus’ scratched windshield, and past that, the reflection of your own disheveled appearance. A surge of adrenaline rushes through you as you shout in his grip, doing anything you can to pull yourself free.

But as Optimus hears this, his spark only stings more. You were scared to death, and he knew that, the mech only wished he knew how to assure you that you were safe. He was taking you back to the base, the place where you would be safest of all. Actions spoke louder than words, he supposed— once he saw how well he would treat you, he knew you would eventually see a smile on your face.

With his free servo, Optimus raises it to his audial. “Ratchet, I am requesting a groundbridge at my coordinates. Additionally, I ask that you pull up any information we may have regarding organics and their natural habitats. I have one with me that you may wish to see.”

#relic writes #Transformers #Transformers x reader #reader insert #Transformers prime #Transformers Prime x reader #TFP #TFP x reader #Optimus prime #Optimus prime x reader #TFP Optimus #TFP Optimus x reader #TFP Optimus prime #TFP Optimus Prime x reader #Yandere Optimus prime

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oliveraiku · 2 years

Text

“ISAGI YOICHI” - Hunger of the Unknown.

Richard Siken, Editor’s pages, - “The Long and Short of It” / Julia Kristeva, from Powers of Horror; An Essay of Abjection; - “…Quit Tollis Peccata Mundi” / Yves Olade from Dark When It Gets Dark; - “Topograph” / Eric LaRocca - “Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke” / Virginia Woolf - “The Waves”.

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock manga #bllk manga #isagi yoichi #web weaving #blue lock web weaving #send me characters!#and i’ll gove you poems i associate them with!

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int-writersmind · 5 months

Text

Steady?

Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: It's been a few months of you and Peter's situationship, a run in with Spider-Man has you reconsidering your feelings for him.

Word Count: 2.5k

Genre: Fluff (w/ some notes of Spice/Smut nothing crazy tho)

Final Part of Potential Customer (could be read as a standalone)

The warm shine of sun was a great reprieve from the cold, brisk, late fall air. You hurry down the sidewalk, dodging and weaving through the crowd of people that blocked your path to work, you were rushing back from a doctor’s appointment in a different borough. You pull at your long red scarf, as you wait with a growing group of people for the sign to turn from a red hand to a white stick man.

Suddenly, Boom!

An explosion from one block over causes everyone in the vicinity to scream, scramble, and panic in many different directions. You had been in the city for a few years now and understood where you lived and the type of spanx-wearing, super-powered beings that were your neighbors. But for whatever reason, the only interaction you ever had with them came in the form of watching recaps on the news or clips on social media after the fact.

Now, you were in the middle of something major, and if you didn’t react–

“Guys I know the weather’s brutal, but I don’t think TNT makes great firewood!”

As you move behind the corner of a building, you look up and notice a red and blue figure swinging above you. That outfit and that voice only belong to the city’s resistant arachnid base hero– Spider-Man.

You know you should get to safety, hell you really should be getting the hell out of here. But still, like many other New Yorkers in awe of the city they live in, you found yourself watching as Spider-Man tussles it out with some newbie criminals.

Spider-Man flips and jumps out of gunfire, webbing up nearby garbage cans and tossing them back in response. All with quip-y dialogue to boot. Actually, now that you think about it, his jokes reminded you of Peter’s, that customer-turned-occasional-hook-up you were seeing recently. That Peter you were desperate to make more than just a hookup–

“Make any sudden movements and I’ll blow ya brain out that pretty head of yours!”, you felt a hand cover your mouth, the coldness of the barrel of a gun pressed against your temple. “I won’t hurt ya, just need ya so I can get out of here.” said the petty Criminal, with the gun to your head and the other hand guiding your shoulder forward. The panic was settling in, but you didn’t want to make any sudden decisions that would put you in any more harm. The Criminal was panic-y himself, whipping you left and right as he headed away from the scene of the crime, his head on a swivel.

“...And this little piggy thought the Big Ole Spider didn’t see him run away.” With one sudden turn, the Criminal stopped in front of a light post where Spider-Man crouched on top of the blub. “Don’t worry, I’ll have you on your way in a jiffy.”

“Don’t you move Spider-Man! I’ll do it!” said the Criminal.

“Whelp, haven’t heard that a hundred times.”

The Criminal turns the gun outwards, but before he can shoot, a web shoots out, Spider-Man ripping it out from his hands. In one swift motion, Spider-Man leaps from the lamppost behind the Criminal. The Criminal in turn throws you off of him, causing you to fall to the ground. Spider-Man double kicks the Criminal, one in the back, one to the head, knocking him out.

“Are you ok?” Spider-Man goes to offer you a hand but stops mid-way, his head snapping towards the Criminal. In two motions Spider-Man shoots a web toward the Criminal, pulling out a bomb from his chest, and another web shooting towards you pulling you close to him. “Hang on tight.”

Spider-Man swings the bomb so that it explodes in the air, while he swings away, you in one arm, your own arms locked around his neck.

He swings you far from the explosion, your stomach lurching as if you were on a thrill ride with too many drops, the cold wind whipping past your head. You tried your best to hold in your screams, the guy saved you, the least you can do is not blow out his ear drums. But the longer the swinging continued the more you thought he was extending this trip for his own pleasure.

After a few more swings, Spider-Man lands the two of you on a residential building's rooftop garden. He gently places you down on the ground, it takes you a minute to compose yourself.

“Thank you Spider-Man, I definitely won’t forget this day.” You say, in between gasps.

“Now you’ve joined the exclusive club of those who swung with Spidey!”

You place your hands on your hips, “Don’t know if that’s something I’m glad I achieved. Seems like you took the scenic route to get to safety.”

“Maybe I was trying to show you a good time. Can’t get those views from anywhere else.”

You felt your cheeks redding a little, “Careful Spider-Man, sounds to me like you’re flirting.”

With a quick little backflip, Spider-Man lands on the edge of the rooftop, perching like he was on the lamppost. You, now glad to be on solid ground, move closer to him, arms crossed against your chest. “Maybe I’m just a flirtatious guy?”

“I don’t know how my boyfriend will feel when he hears about this.”

Obviously, you couldn’t see, but you can almost feel the dumbfounded look on Spider-Man’s face ,like he was surprised at your response. “Boyfriend?”

“Well, I guess he’s not actually my boyfriend,” You start to pace back and forth, “But this guy I’ve been seeing…well, I don’t know…there’s just something about him. We spend a lot of time together, doing…certain activities…but after, when it’s all said and done, we just have these moments where we’re just really clicking together. Conversations about everything and nothing at the same time, sharing jokes with one another.

“God, I just love it when he laughs, and when he smiles you can see that he has a slight chip in one of his teeth, on the left side, I think it’s adorable.” Almost as if he wasn’t thinking, Spider-Man’s hand goes to his jaw, stroking the left side of his face, strange if you think about it.

“Sorry, I know you have tons of stuff that you would rather do than listen to some random person's relationship drama. Weirdly, you’re like really easy to talk to.” You say, rubbing your hands together before sticking them into your coat’s pockets.

“They don’t call me Friendly-Neighborhood Spider-Man for no reason.” You chuckle at his response, “Anyway, I hope you tell this boyfriend-non-boyfriend of yours how you really feel about him, I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

“Will do, and hey, stay safe Spider-Man.”

With a two-finger salute, Spider-Man backward dives off the side of the roof, you rush forward just in time to see him shoot a web and swing back to the former scene of the crime.

You back away from the side of the roof, suddenly aware of where you were, or in fact–

“Wait? How the hell do I get down from here?”

You burst through the front door, a few minutes late since thankfully Spider-Man left you closer to your work rather than further away, lucky huh? What was not so lucky was the five minutes it took to get off the roof.

You murmur apologies to your fellow co-worker as you take your position at the front counter, relieving them to go in the back and sort some new shipments. You barely unzip your jacket before the front door even dings, causing you to go into straight customer service mode. Well, until you notice who the “customer” actually is.

“Oh, hi Peter.” You sigh, reaching up to take off your hat, shoving it into your jacket’s pocket, shimming out said jacket, and throwing it to the side, still leaving your scarf on. “Um, didn’t expect to see you? Need something?”

“Uh, yes, no, kinda?” He chuckles dryly, rubbing the back of his neck as he approaches the front counter. “I was just in the neighborhood and thought I swing bye, ha-ha…”

“Always glad to see you,” You lean over the counter, resting both elbows on the top so that you’re closer to Peter. “Hey, you free tonight for some certain activities.” You wiggle your eyebrows suggestively, giggling to break the tension, Peter laughs back in response.

“Yeah, yeah, definitely,” Peter’s eyes dart from each of your eyes, down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. “Um, actually can we do more than just certain activities? Like dinner or something?”

You feel your face begin to heat up again, rising from the pit of your stomach, up the back of your neck, showing on your cheeks for Peter to see. “Sounds…cute, good actually, real good. But nothing fancy, I have this recipe that this elderly regular gave me a few days ago that I want to try. Says it’s popular with a lot of young men.”

“Sounds good to me.” Peter’s eyes are still locked on yours, his gaze piercing through your soul, but in a good way. Actually, it was kind of turning you on, almost more than other things he’s done to you in the privacy of each other’s beds.

“Peter, were you really in the neighborhood, or were you coming to see me?”

“Can’t both of those statements be true?”

“Oh, so you saw Spider-Man? He stopped this heist or robbery, whatever, around the block from here actually.”

Peter breaks eye contact, locating one of your hands and taking it in his. “Ugh, I must have just missed him. You’re not hurt or anything?”

“Oh no, Spider-Man made sure I was safe and sound, personally.”

The two of you laugh.

“Hey, stop flirting with the customers and do some actual work!” Your co-worker says, peeking their head from the back of the shop.

“I guess I better get out of here, don’t want to get you in any more trouble.” Peter says, looking down at your hands still intertwined, not yet ready to let go.

You bring up your interlocking hands to your mouth, placing a kiss on Peter’s. “Bye, Peter.”

You let go of him, slightly pushing yourself off the counter when suddenly Peter pulls you back close by the ends of your scarf, placing a kiss on your lips. His cold nose brushed against yours. When he moves back, lips barely away from yours, you can’t help but sigh in response. Like a character in some kind of romance novel. “Too much?” he asks.

You just smile and shake your head no, “Your nose is cold, here take my scarf.”

You lift your scarf off your head and place it over Peter’s, throwing one end over one of his shoulders. “See you tonight.”

“Yeah,” Peter walks backward, winking as he walks out the door, “Later!”

Ding-Dong!

Of course, the doorbell rings right at the moment when you are getting ready to make your sauce for the pasta dish. You debated whether or not to let the doorbell ring some more, finally pulling yourself away from the stove.

When you open the door, you’re met with Peter standing there with a modest, but gorgeous bouquet of flowers (one flower hanging by a thread), and your scarf hanging from his neck.

“My goodness, Peter you shouldn’t have,” Your hands hover close to the bouquet, eyes darting from the flowers to Peter’s eyes. “Ah, you really shouldn’t. I hate flowers.”

Peter’s face falls, shock, panic, and fear, (maybe everything all wrapped up at once) play across his face. “Oh-Uh, I just thought–”

“Oh, hon,” You pull him close by the ends of your scarf, mimicking what he did earlier. “I’m just fucking with you.” You kiss him gently, deepening it as Peter kisses you back. Is this what this thing between the two of you was becoming? Visiting each other at work, having dinner together, causal kisses, flowers? Peter must want this relationship to be more than just a casual hook-up too.

You both break the kiss off, still remaining close, looking at one another deeply. You blink rapidly to pull yourself back into reality. “Come in, dinner’s almost ready.”

Empty plates and cups half filled with budget wine lay to the side on your table in your living room. The two of you were too wrapped up in conversation on the couch to even reach for your drink.

“Yeah, I guess I was just really lucky, being in the right place at the right time to get that picture. Front page and everything.” Peter resting his head on his hand, his elbow resting on the top of the couch.

“Luck and craziness” You sat, legs tucked underneath you, body turned towards Peter, hands wringing in your lap. “You know, these conversations are actually still interesting even with all our clothes on.”

“Yeah,” he reaches for your hand again, holding it in your lap, “But maybe I’m still imagining you naked, in my bed.” He moves in closer, “Sweaty, hair stuck to your face…”

“Wow, someone’s bold this evening.”

“I don’t know, I just feel…I don’t know…”

You go to push back a little tuft of brown hair behind his ear. “I get it, babe.”

Peter groans in response, leaning forward, pecking at your lips. “I know you like using pet names as jokes, but I just…love it when you say them.”

“Ok, Love,” you say as Peter keeps moving forward until you move your legs from underneath you. Peter kisses you into the couch, holding your face with one of his hands. “Darling?”

“Yes?” Peter says, in between kisses on your lips, face, and neck.

“Can I ask you something?”

Peter stops immediately, looking at you directly, “Yeah?”

“Can we…can we be more than just…god, can we be more than just certain activities? I know you said you didn’t…don’t have the time for a serious relationship and all, and I know I said it was ok and all…

“Yes, yes, of course,” Peter says.

“Yes?”

“I-I know what I said, and maybe this-this might be difficult to juggle but,” Peter caresses your face with his thumb, “I wanted this to be more for awhile but didn’t know how to bring it up. Maybe the flowers were a bit on the nose.”

You run your hands across his face, just like you did so many times before, Peter nuzzles his face against your hand. “Ok so let’s make this official. Peter Parker, will you go steady with me?”

Peter chuckles, “Of course, I’ll go steady with you.” He kisses you deeply again, caressing your head as he does so.

You're so caught up in the moment, in the kiss, that nothing else matters in that moment. The more he kissed you, the more your body craved every inch of his, and you felt just the tiniest of guilt for it.

“I know I agree to a nice simple dinner, but can we…”

“Oh god yes,” Peter smiles before lowering himself down your body, “But let’s start a little differently, can I?”

“Oh yes please…”

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Oh wow, first series done! I hoped you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I have another Peter Parker x Reader (since I'm still on the Parker train *choo choo*) in the tank, which I'll post Wednesday and have plans for a holiday theme PP x reader series, than maybe I'll take a break from writing Peter Parker??? Idk don't want to burn out on him but we'll see.

Anyway comment if you like, so I'm not just talking into the void, but no pressure! Thanks again and see you next time!

masterlist

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #insomniac spider man #insomniac peter parker x reader #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #peter parker x y/n #ps4!Peter Parker x reader #spider man 2 ps5 #ps5!peter parker x reader #spiderman remastered #peter parker fluff #insomniac!Peter Parker #insomniac!peter parker x reader

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alchemax-genetics-division · 10 months

Text

The Parenting Habits of one Miguel O'Hara

Continuation of Sleeping Habits || Peter B Parker x Miguel O'Hara || Gen

This is for my beloved wife @virgo-dream, who begged me to write Daddy!Miguel (no, not like that, get your mind out of the gutter). Beloved, I hope you enjoy this when you wake up (and if I don't get the chance to tell you before you read this, I hope you had a wonderful night's sleep)! I love you, my dear, and I hope this lives up to your expectations! For everyone else, I also hope you enjoy this continuation!

Peter had, perhaps innocently, perhaps idiotically, assumed that he had learned everything there was to learn about Miguel O'Hara. It had been months since he had unearthed (and kept) the secret of his sleeping habits, animalistic and clingy as they were, and they had fallen into somewhat of a routine since then. More often than not, Peter would crash at HQ, falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, only woken by the cries of his daughter or his boyfriend falling into bed on top of him. The latter was far more easily rectified than the former; indeed, the latter required no rectification at all, simply a pair of arms to wrap Miguel in and the work of a moment to slip back into unconsciousness.

Mayday's midnight screaming, however, was more difficult to deal with. MJ had always been better at quieting their daughter back down; it was almost magic the way she could weave a calming story within moments, leaving a soundly-sleeping Mayday in her crib mere minutes later. Peter had never had such luck. He tried singing (badly, which seemed to do more harm than good), reading stories (including the voices, which delighted Mayday, but didn't exactly put her in a sleeping mood), and pacing the tiny length of his living quarters, rocking her futilely (which only served to make her cry harder). It had gotten to the point where, on nights when May was taking up residence in the crib that had been installed in Peter's HQ quarters specifically for her, Peter expected to be woken up by her plaintive cries at least once, sometimes more.

Which was why confusion and panic descended, one after the other in lightning-fast succession, when he woke up one night to complete silence.

At first, his sleep-starved brain struggled to find a reason for his sudden bout of wakefulness. The apartment was still dark, the only light coming from a small nightlight next to Mayday's crib. A quick sweep of the room revealed nothing amiss; his and Miguel's spider-suits slung over the back of the single chair, right where they had left them; the door's deadbolt still locked in place, a lock that had no doubt been picked by Miguel when he had joined Peter and Mayday in their tiny sanctuary hours ago.

Miguel.

Miguel was missing.

As soon as he noticed it, he kicked himself for not noticing sooner. Miguel was conspicuously absent and Peter suddenly felt chillingly bereft. Adrenaline flooded his veins and he threw off his blanket, still warm from the radiator he called his boyfriend, and sprung out of bed. His racing heart was thunder in the quiet apartment, punctuated only by the rasp of his breath echoing in his own head.

"Shhh."

The hushing sound, long and low and oddly ominous, cut through the noise and Peter honed in on the dark shape looming in the corner next to Mayday's crib.

The dark shape looming in the corner holding his daughter.

The figure's legs were cast in subtle blue light courtesy of the nightlight, and Peter could make out a pair of arms cradling Mayday's tiny body. The figure was staring down at her, head tilted just so, angled so that Peter couldn't see any defining features. Immediately, his heart kicked up again, every paternal instinct woven through his very being screaming to rescue his daughter from the arms of the intruder. He took two bounding steps, web slingers at the ready to restrain the stranger in his bedroom, his muscles bunching in anticipation of a fight.

And then the stranger turned, lifting his head, and Peter found himself face to face with Miguel.

"Peter?"

"Miguel," Peter breathed, lightheaded with relief and the knowledge that he had been mere milliseconds away from attacking his own boyfriend.

"What's wrong, Peter?"

"Nothing," he said, "I just thought-"

His gaze flicked down to Mayday as she twisted in Miguel's arms, undoubtedly seeking out the same warmth that Peter himself gravitated towards and Miguel's eyes followed the movement. His nostrils flared, no doubt smelling the adrenaline and panic that was washing off of Peter in waves and realization dawned on his face, his softly glowing eyes widening in alarm at the implications.

They both opened their mouths at the same time, quick to attempt to clarify the situation.

"Mig, I'm so sorry, I didn't-"

"No, it's okay, Pete, I shouldn't have-"

Silence descended and Peter sank into the chair, exhaustion suddenly catching up to him. He relaxed infinitesimally at the warm, heavy hand that came to a rest on his shoulder. He glanced up into the soft face of his boyfriend, a love-swathed expression that always made him weak at the knees. Few had ever seen Miguel so tender, so warm, and Peter was always achingly aware of the fact that Miguel's trust wasn't easily earned.

"I'm sorry," he said, because he still felt horrible for nearly jumping his own boyfriend in an instinct-driven panic, but Miguel shook his head slightly, a lock of hair falling across his forehead at the movement.

"Peter, I was once a father too. I understand. God knows what I would've done if I had ever seen a large figure standing over Gabriella's bed in the middle of the night. Even my own brother wouldn't have survived it."

"Hey, I like your large figure," Peter protested half-heartedly, picking at the easiest thread. Miguel only snorted softly in response. By now, he was used to Peter's humor-laced avoidance.

"What happened?" Peter asked, after a beat. His pulse and breathing were slowly calming, gentled by the quiet peace that suffused through the room and Miguel's solid, pacifying presence.

"She started to fuss, a couple of hours after I got here," Miguel said softly. "I didn't want her to wake you up, so I got up to-"

At that moment, Mayday wriggled in the crook of Miguel's arm, scrunched up her eyes and puffy cheeks, opened her tiny mouth, and let out a piercing wail.

"Fuck," Peter swore without heat. "I have a bottle around here somewhere-"

"She's already been fed," Miguel said. "I think she wants you."

He held her out, his massive hands cradling her body as gently as a live landmine, and Peter's heart flipped in his chest.

"No," he protested, "I've never been good at quieting her, MJ's always the one who gets her back to sleep. If you give her to me, we'll all be up for hours."

"Hours?" Miguel exclaimed. "She settled down right away earlier."

"Well, keep doing whatever you were doing, Magic Mike."

"I was just singing," he said, tucking Mayday back against his chest.

"Then she likes your singing a lot better than mine," Peter chuckled, "because my singing only makes her cry harder."

Miguel shot Peter a disbelieving look before returning his attention to the child in his arms. He dwarfed her, and the size difference between them would've been comical if not for the adoration on Miguel's face as he gazed down at her. Then, he opened his mouth, and Peter was suddenly very glad to be sitting down, because the sound that dropped from Miguel's lips would've brought him to his knees.

Miguel's singing voice was one of the most gorgeous things Peter had ever heard. It was at once so similar and yet so different from his normal speaking voice, soft and throaty, and Peter's heart spasmed in his chest, as if it were trying to escape the bone bars of his ribs, trying to get as close to the love of his life as possible. He watched as Miguel started swaying from side to side, still crooning in subdued Spanish. Mayday quieted almost immediately, which would've allowed Peter to pick out the words if he had spoken a lick of Spanish. Instead, he simply admired the way his boyfriend's lips curled around the unfamiliar syllables, the way his boyfriend's eyes softened impossibly as he gazed down at his daughter, the way his boyfriend's hand cupped Mayday's head of wild curls in his palm, as gentle as morning light.

Dos oruguitas enamoradas Pasan sus noches y madrugadas Llenas de hambre Siguen andando y navegando un mundo Que cambia y sigue cambiando Navegando un mundo Que cambia y sigue cambiando

By the end of the third stanza, Mayday had fallen back into silence and by the sixth, she had fallen back into deep sleep. Peter, too, had nodded off several times during Miguel's quiet performance and when he tapered off, letting his voice ease back to quietude, Peter blinked up at him with sleepy, half-lidded eyes. He watched Miguel place Mayday back into her crib, impossibly delicate.

"You always were," he whispered, nearly a soundless breath. Miguel set an adorable confused gaze on him, exhaustion pulling at his features. "You said you had been a father once," Peter clarified. "But you always were. And as long as you stick around, you'll always be Mayday's dad."

Miguel's face cracked open in shock, his lips parting and his eyebrows raising of their own accord. Peter wordlessly raised an arm, an invitation, or maybe a demand. Either way, he got what he wanted, because Miguel took his hand and pulled him out of the chair and towards their bed, instantaneously wrapping him in a vice grip.

"What was the song about?" Peter used precious breath to ask.

"Us," Miguel mumbled, reverently, into the crook of his neck, and the remaining air in Peter's lungs left in a whoosh. Even as Miguel relaxed against him, his breath evening into the rhythm of sleep, Peter stayed awake, his mind racing, his chest fit to burst with the love contained within the confines of his ribs.

He had, perhaps innocently, perhaps idiotically, assumed that he had learned everything there was to learn about Miguel O'Hara. But as he ran his hand along his sleeping boyfriend's spine, rucking up his shirt, making him snuggle impossibly closer, he knew that Miguel had a lifetime of surprises, and Peter would gladly spend the rest of his lifetime discovering them.

------

Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!

Just as before, if you would like to show your support via kudos/comments, this chapter is posted on AO3 here!

#across the spiderverse #spider-verse #spiderdads #miguel o'hara #peter b parker #peter b parker x miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x peter b parker #spiderman 2099 #fluff #domestic fluff #Miguel O'Hara is a good dad #Peter B Parker is a good dad #just a couple of spidermen being good dads #mayday parker #coparenting #probably out of character but i don’t care #slightly canon compliant

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heyitsme1040 · 6 months

Text

Swing By [spider-man]

summary : Reader just finished her shift at the coffee shop near campus. Wanting nothing more than to nap in her dorm before her study session, she walks home. Being pulled into an alley by two muggers wasn’t on her to-do list for the day. Neither was being saved by New York’s very own friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Swung to safety, she thanks her masked savior. With the promise of not leaving her until she’s home safe, Spider-Man gets a kiss on the cheek as goodbye minutes before Peter arrives to study for the exam with his lab partner.

pairings : TASM!Spider-Man/Reader

warnings : Swearing (I think it’s literally one word), mention of a knife, attempted mugging, mention of feeling the need to be sick (it doesn’t happen), and I think that’s it. (If I forgot any please let me know!)

word count : 1,980

AO3 (x)

a/n : Day one of Comfortember is here! The prompt was ‘safe’.

With a tired sigh, I wipe down the counter around the espresso machine one final time. Tossing the rag back into the bucket filled with soapy water, I begin to untie my apron. Finally finished with the closing process, I was ready to be back at my dorm so I could take a quick nap before studying for my biophysics exam with my lab partner. Hanging my apron on the hook I claimed in the back, I emerged from behind the counter with my backpack and headphones for the final time today. Turning the lights off, I finally close the door behind me and lock it.

I began the quiet walk to campus instead of waiting on the bus today. The sun is starting to set as I weave my way through the crowds of people on the sidewalk. Passing a quiet alley, I’m suddenly pulled into it. A hand covers my mouth before I can shout, and two more hands hold my arms against my side.

“You’re going to stay quiet,” a rumbling voice tells me. “No need to disturb those nice people’s day,” the man pointed at the opening to the alley with a knife, “don’t you agree?”

All I can do is nod, hoping that if I cooperate they’ll let me go faster.

“I’m so glad you agree,” his voice mocks me. “Now, I’m going to keep an eye on you while he takes your bag. Got it?”

Before I can nod again, my backpack is ripped off my shoulders. I look past the man holding the knife toward the mouth of the alley, debating if I can make it back into the crowd before he could catch me.

“This shit’s useless,” the guy behind me grumbles. “It’s just binders and textbooks,” he complains as I hear my things being dropped to the ground. “This kid has nothing.”

“Well she’s gotta have something,” the man in front of me slowly drags his eyes over me. “Empty your pockets or we’ll–”

He cuts himself off while looking over my shoulder. I hear a faint thwip followed by a choked shout. As the man in front of me turns to run I see webs stick to his feet and the ground.

“What, can't you stick around?” A voice comes from above me.

I stay frozen in place, unsure what to do. In a streak of red and blue, Spider-Man lands in front of me. He quickly webs the knife to the wall before trapping the man’s hands to himself.

“Are you okay?” He automatically asks while turning to face me.

My tongue feels like lead. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Obviously I knew of Spider-Man, but never thought I’d need to be saved by him. I was stunned by this hero, that he happened to notice what was happening in the alley.

“Hey, it’s alright. You’re safe now, did they hurt you?” His tone softens.

I can’t see past the white lenses of his mask, but I feel his eyes searching me for some kind of injury. The thought of having his attention focused on me snaps me out of my shocked trance.

“I’m fine,” I blurted out, “thank you. I, uh, yeah. I’m fine.”

I nod to myself while mentally slapping myself over the word vomit that just escaped me. Looking down, I suddenly remember my bag dumped behind me. I turn around, hoping to hide the embarrassed flush on my face, and crouch to grab my textbooks. Shoving them into my bag, I pick up my binder. As soon as it leaves the ground all my notes start to float out of it into the wind.

“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter while rushing to grab the papers.

“Here,” Spider-Man offers me some pages.

“Thanks,” I squeak out.

“No problem.”

Finally zipping my bag shut, I hear sirens approaching. The flash of red and blue lights reflect at the mouth of the alley.

“Did you let them know they needed to come here?” I groan once again, not wanting to deal with the police.

“I, uh, it’s just–you were being mugged.” I was shocked to hear Spider-Man fumbling over his words. “I reported it before I stopped it. Don’t want these two mugging more people. Y’know the whole ‘friendly neighborhood’ thing isn’t just to describe me.”

I sigh heavily, “I get it. I just don’t want to deal with the cops today. I need to get home soon and don’t have the time to deal with this.”

“The cops don’t like me–”

“Then why did you–”

“So I can swing you home before they arrive.”

Spider-Man holds an arm out to me. I don’t have much time to think as I hear the sirens get louder. Slinging my backpack on, I step closer to him. He wraps his arm around my waist.

Keeping me facing him he warns, “Close your eyes and hold on as tight as you want,” before he leaps us into the air.

I quickly bury my face into where I have my arms wrapped around his neck. The rush of us swinging through the air has my head spinning and my stomach dropping. Within minutes I feel him stand on steady ground, my feet landing moments after his. I don’t move yet as my head continues to swim. I feel a warm touch against my hands as he gently pries my hands away from behind his neck. He doesn’t move to push me away from my hiding place in his neck, but he does slowly guide us to sit on the ground.

“You’re okay,” he reassures. “The head rush is intense the first few times. Putting your head between your knees helps with the dizziness.”

I nod at his guidance, not moving yet. “I feel like I’m gonna be sick.”

“That’s normal, too. Putting your head between your knees also helps with that.”

I slowly unbury myself from him and carefully place my head between my knees. The spinning sensation lets up a little, but I still can’t move from my position. I look at the gravel beneath my shoes, focusing on the pebbles to keep my vision steady.

“Thank you,” I whisper out, barely audible.

“No problem,” Spider-Man chuckles, “just part of being the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”

“Where are we?”

“We’re on top of the Saratoga children’s museum.”

“How?” I incredulously demand. “That’s like a mile from the coffee shop. And it’s been only, what, a couple of minutes?”

Spider-Man shrugged, but I heard his amused snort. “It’s the same as if you would have driven here.”

I shook my head in disbelief, finally lifting my head to look at him. I couldn’t believe the nonchalance of his answer. He casually swings through the city at like forty miles an hour. And he acts as though that’s nothing.

“Where do you need to go? Spider-Cab can drop you off wherever you want to go in New York. Free of charge,” he jokes around his offer.

“Empire State college. Back toward the coffee shop. Then another half mile and you’ll be at the dorms there,” I explain. “But I can get a cab there. You’ve already saved me, and I’m sure someone else out there could use the assistance.”

“I can take you. It’s part of the job. Saving them from danger and keeping them safe. If that means taking you to your dorm, then I promise to keep you safe until then.”

“Alright,” I concede. “Do you have to swing that fast though? I don’t think I can take it.”

Spider-Man stands and offers me a hand, “I’ll go slower this time.”

Taking his hand, Spider-Man pulls me to my feet before pulling away. He turns his back toward me this time and squats down a little.

“What are you doing?” I tilt my head.

“Hop on,” he looks over his shoulder. “It won’t be as bad if you’re facing where we swing.”

I hesitate a moment longer before putting my arms around him. His hands grab behind my knees and he shrugs me higher onto his back. He moves one hand to my ankle and crosses it around his waist. Understanding what he’s suggesting, I wrap the other around him.

“Hold on tight. We’re going to be slower, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t hold on tight. I’ve got you, but it’s a bit trickier with someone on my back. Are you okay with this?” He places his hand on top of mine across his chest.

“I trust you,” I admit.

I barely hear him say, “I’m glad,” as he stands on the ledge. “Here we go!” He shouts.

And just like that we’re swinging through the city again. I squint against the rushing wind, but keep my eyes open. The city looks so different like this. We’re soaring through the air, people below us unaware we’re here. The sounds of traffic can’t be heard over the wind. It’s peaceful.

All too soon it comes to an end. Spider-Man swings us past the coffee shop again, and soon we’re at the college campus. I shout over the wind which dorm building is mine and laugh as he gently lowers us to the roof. I feel adrenaline rushing through me alongside the excitement of having swung through the city.

“Here we are,” Spider-Man announces.

“I don’t think I can move,” I giggle out.

I feel him laugh more than I hear it. He once again carefully pries my off of him, unwrapping my legs from his waist before turning in my hold. I don’t feel as dizzy this time, but with how close he is my head is spinning for a different reason.

“Home safe and sound,” he murmurs. “Just like I promised you.”

“Thank you,” I sigh.

I finally release my hold from around him, but he doesn’t move. Remaining close to me, I try to imagine what he’s doing behind the mask. If his eyes are searching me the way mine are him. With a lot of courage (and reckless abandon) I kiss him on the cheek.

“Good night, Spider-Man,” I whisper against his cheek. “Thank you again for saving me.”

I turn away before he can respond, opening the door to the roof access.

“Good night,” he calls after me.

I turn to look at him. He hasn’t moved from his spot, but now his hand rests over his cheek. I wave as the door shuts behind me. I feel like I’m floating as I make my way down the stairs to my floor. Unlocking my door, I flop onto my bed with a sigh. Looking at the alarm clock near my head, I see the lights blinking ‘5:45 PM’. I smile in relief that I made it back before my study session at six. I lay still as the feeling of excitement fades away with the adrenaline. Soon, I hear a knock on my door through the haze of a nap creeping into my mind. I look at the clock again to see it’s only been five minutes. Getting up, I crack the door open to see who it is. Recognizing Peter, I quickly close the door and remove the chain before opening it up all the way.

“Hi,” Peter cheerily greets.

“Hey,” I smile, “you’re early for a change.”

“I’m usually on time. I’m just chronically late to classes,” he jokes.

I laugh at his comment. “Yeah, I guess that’s true. You ready to cram for this exam?”

“This professor’s exams are the worst. At least I brought snacks this time,” he groans.

I close the door as he enters and lock it. Turning on my laptop I opened the study guide the professor emailed us. As we study, I turn the radio on low, smiling as the voice of J. Jonah Jameson starts to bark on about the most recent Spider-Man sighting earlier tonight.