#spider man x gn!reader

[verybadatwriting]

Just a Little Stab Wound

Summary: Reader, a vigilante, is injured and goes to Peter for help.

Warnings: injuries, blood loss

Notes: I experimented a little, and wrote this on paper for the first draft. I think I like it.

Gn!reader

Word count: 1,141

He was just trying to study for a chem test when his phone buzzed. At first he ignored it. After two more buzzes, he finally glanced down at the notifications, and saw they were from you. He smiled before reading them.

Need you

Pete

i’m hurt. on way. be ready.

He hurriedly replied,

how hurt?

u there?

Y/n??

When it was clear he wasn’t going to get a fast reply, he went about gathering a whole bunch of first aid stuff.

“Pete?” He heard a tired but authoritative voice. Crap. He’d thought Aunt May was asleep.

“What’re you doing?” She asked, both bemused and amused.

“Science homework?” He said, wishing it had sounded less like a question. Aunt May did not look like she was buying it, but instead of challenging the answer she sighed and reminded him to clean up once he’d finished “Whatever it is you’re really up to.”

Peter nodded itching to go prepare his room. He grabbed a heavy blanket from the bottom bunk and laid it on his floor. He tossed a pillow on top, and made sure that the first aid boxes were close at hand. This next part he always hated. The waiting was excruciating. Never knowing if you were only a moment away, or if you had bled out in some grimey back alley.

You were a vigilante, like he used to be, before he joined the Avengers. You though, you did not have the favor of law enforcement, since some (okay, much) of your activities weren't exactly legal. Peter met you while you were both stopping a robbery. Both of you had a fun time, probably due to the fact that you had the same sense of humor. Just before the cops arrived, you and Peter fled to a nearby rooftop. 

All that said, you and Peter had become friends, and then something more. You’d been to his home before, usually just to hang out, but also if you were injured he’s who you’d head to.

For the most part, Peter was used to it. He appreciated having someone his age who really understood the weight that came with having superpowers. If talking to you came at the price of occasionally patching you up, he’d happily help you out.

Finally, after what felt like hours, but was really only ten or so minutes, you landed on the fire escape and knocked on his window. You smiled when he looked up and let you in. As he got closer, he saw it was more like a pained grimace.

“Oh my God,” Peter whispered, eyes drifting to your abdomen, which was painted red with your blood. You held your hand against it, but the blood still leaked out. 

“Hey Pete,” You said, gasping through the pain before promptly tumbling through the window and into his arms.

Peter gingerly lifted you over to the blanket and set you down. You held pressure on the wound as you lay there, splayed out on the floor. Peter was readying a wad of gauze bandaging when out of the corner of his eye he saw yours start to drift closed.

“Hey!” He said. “You need to keep your eyes open, okay?” He asked. Reluctantly, you complied.

“You’ve got pretty eyes,” You murmured. 

“Thanks,” Peter smiled, not taking his “pretty” eyes off the gash across your body as he continued bandaging.

“Keep talking, love,” He prompted you.

“M’kay,” You hummed. “Just for you, pretty boy.”

At this, Peter’s cheeks flushed and he glanced at you, worry filling his eyes.

“You must be delusional from blood loss.”

“Nuh uh!” You protested as he turned back to work. “I’m just incredibly lucky and got you.”

A few minutes later, Peter had you all patched up. Then he helped you sit up, a rather painful process. Your shirt was filthy so he helped you out of it and upon seeing how much blood and grime covered your skin, he retrieved a basin and rag to gently wash the filth away. After he was done, you put on one of his t-shirts.

“It’s comfy,” you said.

“Looks good on you,” He replied.

After a moment, you looked up at him, truly taking in the worry lacing each and every one of his features.

“Thank you,” you finally, quietly said.

“Of course,” he replied.

“What’d I do to deserve you?” You asked, leaning your forehead onto his shoulder. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close, but he stayed careful not to hurt you. 

“You’re in no shape to even think about going home,” Peter said. “So you might as well spend the night.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

He gently scooped you up and somehow managed to climb up his bed’s adder. He set you down on your side, facing away from the wall, and tucked you in. He climbed back down, and started cleaning up while you drifted off to sleep. 

You later felt him slip into bed behind you. It was comforting, having his chest against your back. You nestled into his arms and stayed like that the rest of the night.

Peter woke up first. He didn’t dare move a muscle. From how peaceful you looked right now, nobody ever would have guessed that you’d come awfully close to death just a few hours ago. 

He heard his aunt get up and start making breakfast. Her footsteps slowly came down the hall to his room. Hastily, he covered your face with the blanket.

“Hey, Peter,” Aunt May called as she entered the room. “Do you want eggs? I’m making some.” 

“Sure! Thanks!” He said, internally cringing at his voice, which sounded way too cheery. For one wonderful second, Peter thought she was going to leave. Then, her eyebrows shrunk together as she noticed the suspiciously human shaped lump in her nephew’s bed.

“Uh,” she started, “Who’s that?”

“Promise you won’t get mad?” He asked after a moment. She raised an eyebrow in response.

“Uhm, Aunt May,” Peter said, “This is my partner. They’ve got superpowers, like me, and they don’t really want other people to know who they are. Last night they got hurt, like really hurt, and they came to me. Please don’t be mad at them, they didn’t have anywhere else to go.” 

His aunt just stood there, this stressful moment stretching on forever. Finally, someone broke the silence.

“I’s okay, Peter,” you said, pushing the blanket away from your face. “Hi Ms. Parker. I’m Y/n.” Your groggy voice wavered slightly, as if afraid of what she might say. Your face, soft from sleep, made Peter fall in love with you all over again. Seeing the way Peter looked at you, combined with your honesty and desperation, Aunt May seemed to relax.

“Nice to meet you, Y/n,” she said. “Would you care to join us for breakfast?”

[jaozendry]

NEW YEAR SPECIAL: A New Beginning

Pairing: Tom!Peter Parker x GN!Reader

Warnings: slight mentions of suicide & self-harm

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Summary: After a very hard year, Peter comforts you due to your anxiety: you're afraid 2023 will somehow be worse than 2022.

Author's note: happy new year!! stay strong ppl <33 sorry its a short one today im tiredddd

______________________________________________________________

"You okay?" Peter asks you, opening the door to your room. "I didn't see you at the party." You remove your headphones and wipe away the tears dripping down your face while looking away. He notices your current emotional state and sits down on your bed, caressing your hip. "What is it?" he asks with sincerity in his eyes. "I- uh, I don't know. It doesn't matter anyway." you reply, smiling faintly to reassure him.

He clearly knows that's a lie. Peter knows 2022 has been a hard year for you, both mentally and physically. You've been bleeding out all year, both hypothetically and literally.

He caresses your arm: "I'm proud you made it through this year, I really am." he tells you, slightly tearing up. "It's almost over. Next year will be a new beginning for you, trust me." You start to tear up even more. "But... what if nothing changes? What if I'm still in that mindset? What if I attempt suic-" As you start to freak out and lose control of your emotions, Peter gently puts his hand on your mouth. "Don't say that, please." he tells you, also tearing up and removing his hand from your mouth. "I'm here for you. We'll make it through this year, together." he explains, earning a little smile from you.

"There's that beautiful smile I've been looking for." he says jokingly. "Feeling better now?" he asks, caressing your face. "Yeah. Thanks. I guess I just needed to hear that you'll be there for me. Especially after this year." you reply, holding his hand while he nods in understanding. "We'll have a good year, right?" you ask, wiping your tears once more. "Oh, we will. Don't worry." he says while smiling.

"Come on, they're waiting for us." he says, standing up and reaching out his hand. "I don't think I'm looking too good after bawling my eyes out." you reply in a jokingly sad manner. "Y/N, you always look good. What did I say? We'll have a good year." he says, taking both of your hands. "That means a more positive mindset." he explains, playfully ticking your head while the both of you laugh. "We'll work on that. Okay?" he tells you while you stare into his beautiful eyes. "Fine." you giggle. "Only one drink."

The both of you finally stand up and leave the room. "What?" you giggle while he stops and simply stares at you. He goes for a kiss and you engage back. He breaks free and a few seconds of awkward silence occur. He finally breaks the silence, whispering into your ear:

"We'll have an amazing year, Y/N, trust me."

[hoshigray]

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."

[saturncodedstarlette]

Miguel, snarls : You don’t deserve them.

Hobie, holding the confused Y/N tightly in his arms : Go take a bath. You reek of jealousy, mate.

🎞Visual🎞

[politemenacephd]

Rainy morning (18+)

Miguel O'Hara x GN!Reader

Contents: Sleepy sex, overstimulation, Squirting/multiple orgasms, PinV sex, Spooning position, fluffy talking.

Word count: 1370

‘Mm- can I just, fuck—just a bit more, please—’

You squirmed as Miguel squished his fingers a little deeper inside you, gently circling them to get a perfect feel of your tight insides.

It was cold outside, the kind of cold that sent goosebumps up your arms the moment you lifted the sheets. The rain didn’t help either. It was cascading down in buckets, thick enough to blot out the morning sun, and your bedroom had been left in a soft, shadowy haze. The distant window was misty beneath the half-closed blinds, and the heavy patter of raindrops was the only sound.

Or, at least, it was the only sound, but now it was serving just to muffle the soft wet slap of skin from the neighbours.

It was the perfect morning to stay in and keep warm, Miguel had sleepily whispered when you'd offered to get coffee, the perfect morning to pamper his favourite person.

He’d already coaxed you to cum on his hand at least three times, but he clearly didn’t think you were warm enough.

You were trembling slightly as he fucked you with his hand. You were overstimulated to the max and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to stop, riding out the ache for that undeniable pleasure.

His fingers were huge, calloused and hard from constantly climbing and grappling. You could feel every scar, every ridge on his skin as he stroked the soft folds of your cunt from inside. They were delicious, and besides, you were too lazy to get up.

‘Fff- mm, fuck, that’s it’ you whimpered. He pumped them a few times just to see you sleepily mewl and wriggle on his hand.

‘So pretty’ he murmured to himself.

You’d stayed in the same spooning position you’d fallen asleep in, with one thigh slightly raised for easy entrance and his body at your back.

He looked obscenely lazy, naked in bed with his head in his hand, his red eyes roaming over your face as he moved his hands beneath the sheets.

He was all focused on you, but you could feel his erection on your lower back. He’d been eager to play with his precious pussy but wouldn’t let you touch him yet, and so he’d been throbbing against your spine for nearly half an hour now, utterly coating your skin in his pre-cum.

It was slippery and warm, and every so often you did feel him snap and start gently rubbing himself out against you.

‘So pretty. It’s so cute when you move like that’ he whispered.

‘Move like- mm- like, what?’ you panted.

You saw his eyes narrow over your shoulder. With a soft chuckle he angled his hand, perfectly nestling his fingers up against the ribbing of flesh that indicated he’d found your g-spot. He stroked it, lightly, and relished the way your hips jolted and bucked.

‘MM- Fuck, oh god, fuck—be, gentle, please’ you sleepily whined. He pressed an apologetic kiss to your cheek.

‘Okay, okay. Sorry. Just, one more orgasm and then I’ll fuck you, mm?’

He withdrew his fingers with a wet little pop. He kissed them first before slipping them back down to your clit, and after just a few stimulating circles on that swollen and overstimulated nub you orgasmed for him again.

‘Sigue así, mi amor, por Dios’ he breathed. Even he was surprised at how easily he’d tipped you.

His whispered praise barely reached you as those sweet pulsing ripples ripped through your clit to your core and beyond. It was pure heaven, but the moment it was over you collapsed. You were utterly exhausted.

Your breath was warm on your face as it hit the satin pillowcase. You were too tired to even shift your head.

As Miguel slipped his fingers out, he took the chance to indulge. He held up his hand and admired the strings of click on his fingers from where you’d cum. They were thick and long, perfect little pearly strings that clung to his fingers as he spread them, daintily glimmering in the dim streelight that filtered in. He greedily licked his index finger before squeezing the fat of your thigh with his used hand.

‘Mi amor?’

His soft words earned just a sleepy grunt from you.

‘Not asleep already, are you?’ he teased. His breath hit the little hairs on your nape, forcing you to shudder. That was proof enough for him that you were awake.

‘I think my baby’s ready’ he purred. ‘Would my pretty little thing like me to fuck them now?’

You let out another grunt, gently grinding your rear against his erect cock. He couldn’t help but groan at how wet you were, as his bulbous member slid easily between your cheeks and down into your thighs from the copious slick.

‘Mm—mm, you sure? You’re not too sore?’ he whispered.

‘Mm… please, please just fuck me, Miggy.' Your words were a little slurred, as you’d drooled all over the pillowcase, but Miguel heard them just fine.

He gave you one eager kiss on the shoulder before mounting.

With Miguel spooning you from behind he was half crushing your little body beneath him. The warmth and the weight was a comfort, as was his heartbeat thudding hard against your head, and in that sweet embrace you began to lull.

But then he entered you.

That cosy relaxation was disrupted by the familiar pinch of his cock as it impaled you. He was being as gentle as he could, just barely rocking back and forth inch by inch as he spread you wide, but it was still a tight squeeze. You felt his member circling the thick, velvet ring of your opening before stretching it out and pushing inside, and with one final wet slip he pushed right up to your guts.

You let out a small squeak, prompting him to sleepily nestle your cheek.

‘Shh, you’re all good. Well done. You did so good, mi corazón, now just relax. Just relax.'

You slowly settled back down as he gave a few test pumps, gently easing you out so that he fit more comfortably. You could feel his hefty pecs snuggly fitted around your head, and his abs had been stuck hard to your back from the pre-cum still smeared there.

You felt his biceps tense as he shifted his weight, his enormous, toned thighs easily wrapping around your own to pin them in place. You were soon tangled up in his limbs beneath the sheets.

Fuck, it was so wet.

You could feel yourself drifting off as he started to pump. That rhythmic rocking was perfect for lulling you back into blissful relaxation, as was the warmth and the pressure of his body. You felt your head sinking into the pillows as he fucked you slowly.

‘You feel, heavenly’ Miguel murmured to himself.

He nestled his head into your neck and yawned mid moan, his full lips lazily tracing from your collarbone to your jaw. You tilted your head to gentle bump his forehead.

‘Ah—fuck, that’s it. That’s it.’

Your joint pants merged as you nestled in together. You could feel each other’s breath, each other’s bodies moving in a messy synchronicity, as each pulse from his cock prompted a fluttery throb from your cunt.

‘You okay, mi amor?’

‘Mhm.’

At this point your eyes were closed, and you were savouring that sweet space between wakefulness and dreams. You were lost in a point where all you knew, all you would ever know, was the sweet sensation of him filling you. All you could hear was that wet thwap, that light smacking, and all you could feel was his girth sliding in and out of your thighs.

‘Mmm.’

His lips on your temple forced you to blink yourself awake.

‘No, mi amor, up you get’ he tenderly whispered. ‘I’m not done yet.’

He angled himself then to slide right up against your sweet spot. He moved his firm hands to lift your thighs, helping him reach your g-spot, and with just half of his shaft inside he started to lazily thrust back and forth. He was moving barely an inch each time and it was unbearable.

Soon you were just awake enough to start moaning again.

‘Oh—f-fuck, fuck that’s it, oh—Miggy, MM—’

‘There you go, that’s better. Gotta wake my sleepy baby up’ Miguel purred to himself.

With your bodies intertwined you let him lazily fuck you to his hearts content, all under the cover of the pounding rain outside.

[bluesidez]

The Love Lab presents:

Boyfriend is to Husband

pairing: Miguel O’Hara x gn!Reader

summary: How would Miguel react if you did the “calling my bf my husband” trend? 🤔

content warning: It gets a little suggestive, but other than that, it’s fluff fluff fluff. There are short mentions of food, but nothing too crazy. The Miguel in here is also not Spiderman. Just a little guy.

credit for art and dividers: Me! and @kimjiho1 (plus another person for the gif divider, if this is yours, lmk!)

a/n: This will be apart of a series called The Trendy Couple! This is the first installment ☝🏾😌. I’m not sure how long the series will be, but right now it’s just based off of cute couple's trends. My fyp has suffered trying to do research for this…

word count: 2.2k

I use the word "buggy" in here. Buggy = shopping cart or trolley. I'm southern so buggy just rolls off the tongue. ❤︎ Plus, it sounds cute!

You and Miguel have been out since 8 am running errands and grabbing supplies to fill up the new apartment. 

After a year of your dresser being full of his sweatpants and hoodies and his furniture hosting several of your blankets, his fridge being stocked of your favorite fruits and your shower caddy holding his body care, you both decided it was best to live together. 

Towel sets, bed sheets, comforters, silverware, curtains. This was only the tip of what you and Miguel had managed to stuff inside the car.

After hitting five shops just that morning, you opted to stay in the car while Miguel went and handled a pickup order from the hardware store. It was getting closer to lunchtime and you didn’t want to become irritable because of the long lines. 

To pass the time, you decided to scroll on TikTok, watching video after video, reacting to each accordingly. 

First, it was chatty kitties begging for food. Then, it was edits of hot wrestlers. Next, it was ramen recipes to cook at 2am. There were even a couple of NPC lives even though the trend was nearly dying at this point. 

Finally, you scrolled to a video hosting a girl and her boyfriend huddled together in a car over the console.

She’s leaned up against him, her smile beaming, “Today I’m going to be guessing my husband’s favorite things!”

“I’m not your husband,” are the words that shoot from her boyfriend’s mouth, fast as lightning. Cold. Unkind. Callous. 

You watch as the girl’s smile drops and the video cuts, her laughing out of shock beforehand, evidence of her trying to stamp out her embarrassment. 

You watch more as his grin widens and she gives him this awkward glance. 

“Not yet,” he adds, seeing how quiet she was. 

The video ends with her jumping at him playfully, trying to play the situation of. 

“Jesus,” you sigh, mouth turned sideways as you pause the video and open up the comments. Thousands of people were telling her to dump him, others questioning why he would say what he said in the way that he did. 

Your heart went out to the girl who clearly wanted to do a harmless joke that completely backfired. 

You liked a comment about this being a possible red flag. Although he could have responded that way because he wasn’t ready for marriage, his response was so quick and distant that it was like he was disgusted at the possibility of being with her that long. 

After working yourself up by scrolling through the comments, you decide to go even further by pressing the “calling my boyfriend ‘husband’” search at the top. 

There were so many stitches to the original video with people giving their own thoughts about the situation. Some people were proclaimed dating coaches, others psychologists, and a few influencers. 

You even see a follow up video from the original couple with the guy giving a shitty excuse as to why he was so quick in his response. 

“Yeah right,” you mumble, watching the girl snicker at her boyfriend’s pouts. You agree with the comments that his response makes the original video even worse. 

Still scrolling down, you find another video featuring a new couple. 

They’re at a table eating donut holes out of a hat, and when the girl calls her boyfriend “husband”, the guy’s entire body lights up. He’s grinning, cheeks rosy, and can’t stop staring back at his girlfriend. 

From there, you were able to see countless other couples with cute videos, all of the guys radiating at the word “husband.”

Biting your lip, you wondered how Miguel would react if you called him your husband. 

You loved him with all of your heart and you were sure that he loved you. You guys are literally moving into an apartment together. But the thought of him being unsettled by you calling him your husband weighed on you. 

Just as you were deep in your thoughts, you heard a knock near the trunk of the car startling you. Looking up in the rearview mirror, you see Miguel standing with a few bags and wood planks in his hands. You reach over and press a button to pop open the trunk. 

“Got everything?” you ask, turning to watch as he drops items in the back. 

“Yeah, I think so. Although there was almost a brawl over some potted plants,” he said. “Some older lady just came up to this guy and snatched his monsteras.” 

“What?” you respond, watching as he closed the trunk and walked around to the driver's seat. “Out of his hands or the buggy?”

Miguel laughed, both recalling the scene and finding your terms adorable. “She just came up and snatched it out of the cart while he was waiting at the end of the line. She swore that she saw it first.”

You listened to him retell the story, hand under your chin as you leaned closer. He was cute, lilt in his voice to make an impression of the plant thief. Thinking to yourself that you liked this little moment of playfulness, you take your phone out to record. 

Placing your phone in a case attached to the dashboard, you smile at the camera while Miguel’s still going. 

“‘You youngins think the world owes you everything, and that’s just not the case!’ And the poor guy is standing there going ‘ma’am, I just want my plant back.’ He looked so distressed.”

“I would be too! A random lady just shopped from my buggy. It’s like, why are you this close to me to see what I’m trying to buy?”

Miguel turns the car on and buckles up. “It started to escalate when the lady’s friend came over. Then there were two shrill voices fussing at this guy.”

He started to back the car out of the parking spot, hand behind your seat and head turned towards the back window. 

You slowly glanced at his arm, eyes tracing a vein up his shirt. 

Too bad you were in a car right now or else you’d let his arm wrap around you elsewhere. 

You tune back into his words, silently scolding yourself for letting something so simple get you to fold. 

“Luckily, I was able to calm them both down. All it took was me showing them some dasheen leaves,” he said, driving the car closer to the exit of the parking lot. 

You came to a conclusion. There was no better time than the present. 

“Aw, look at my husband. Saving the day with his genius,” you say, hand reaching out to pat his chest. 

Then you feel your body jerk to the right. The seat belt tightens as the car jerkingly swerves in between two parking spaces. 

You stare in a panic at Miguel who puts the car in park and turns his entire body towards you. 

“What did you just call me?” he asks, eyes searching yours, a little startled but mostly hopeful. 

You decide to keep the charades going, “I was just praising my husband for stopping the creation of another Karen video. Why did you turn the car like that?” You’re still looking at him as if he has two heads. 

“You just-!” Miguel takes your hands into his and places his forehead on his fists. “Baby, you know what you just said.” 

You laugh, a little giddy. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Miguel leans back against his seat and closes his eyes, reaching down to take his seatbelt off. His eyebrows scrunch up as he brings your hand to his chest, “Feel my heartbeat.”

Your mouth drops as you feel his heart rattling against his chest. He really wasn’t being dramatic. 

“Baby look at me,” you grab his hands and hold them tight. “You did a good job today.”

His breath stopped, as he looked at you. His face was tinted from the whole fiasco. 

“Husband.”

Miguel’s entire body slumped as he grinned wide. He nearly jumped over the console to sag his body onto yours. 

His shoulders were shaking and you heard his laugh muffled by your shoulder. You wrap your arms around him and make a face at the camera. 

“What’s up, Mig?” you say, trying to get him to talk. 

He mumbled into your clothes, shoulders still shaking. 

“I can’t hear you, you gotta sit up.”

He sits up and sniffles, turning his head toward the backseat. 

Looking at his profile you can see a few streaks down his face. 

“Are you crying?” you ask, turning his face towards yours. 

Miguel swipes his wrist across his cheeks, “Stop, this is extremely embarrassing.”

“No, it’s not! I promise it’s not,” you say, rubbing your thumb across his ear. “Talk to me.”

He chuckled, eyes looking down, “It just feels really good to know that you think of me that way. We don’t have to ever cross that line, but one day, if you would like, we can make that title true.”

“Is this a pre-proposal?” you ask, heartbeat in your ears. You went out on a limb to follow a trend, not knowing how it would end. Now you’re staring at Miguel’s flushed face with his heart pouring out into your lap. 

“Maybe,” he whispered, grabbing your hands. “Possibly a promise for what could be.”

You bite your lip to hold back a grin, “Can I know what could be right now?”

“And expose my plans? Not a chance,” Miguel smirked. “Besides, a husband knows what’s best for his partner, right?”

“He does,” you quip, rubbing your hand in a circle on his chest. “He also apparently forgets that SUVs can flip very easily.”

“Lo siento, mi amor,” he says, looking sheepishly at the placement of the car. “Did I startle you?”

You just giggle at his concern and give him a quick peck on the mouth. “Yeah, I wasn’t expecting that big of a reaction.”

“How would you react if I casually called you forever mine? While driving!”

“Go 90 in a 70,” you joke. “Maybe pull over and do a little more than make out.” You rub your hand down his chest, and squeeze playfully at his pec. 

Miguel stared back at you, body instantly reacting to the shift in conversation. “We can actually do that right now.”

He leaned forward and brought your lips to his. You could taste the mint from the gum he had earlier, humming when he pushed further into your mouth. 

He started to reach for your hips, ready to pull you over onto his lap. 

Your stomach let out a loud grumble, making you jump. 

“Ok, let’s try this again after we get you some food,” Miguel says, plastering kisses on your face. 

The day moves on smoothly with Miguel not letting you out of his sight, hands itching to hold you in some way. 

He also never lets the husband thing go. 

As you’re ordering lunch, “One lemonade for my baby. And a water with lemon for me, the husband.”

As you stop in a clothing store at the mall for a small break, “These say boyfriend jeans. Do they have any husband jeans?”

As you’re trying to reach the top shelf to grab the last of your favorite detergent, “No, cariño. Let your husband get it for you.”

As you’re looking for throw pillows and towel sets for the apartment, “You think they have a couple’s set? I want something that says ‘Mr.’ on it.”

As you stop at a gift store, looking for something extra to give to the movers, “Look, this shirt says it’s made of ‘hubby material.’ Should I get it?”

This feeling is only amplified when you post his initial reaction online. The comments were full of people yearning to be in your predicament. 

“If my boyfriend doesn’t crash the car when I call him husband, THROW HIM AWAY. 😒”

“Does he have a brother….asking for a friend”

“I needed this after the “I’m not your husband” he in LOVE”

“If your bf doesn’t cry at the thought of you, what are you doing”

“He was blushing HARRRRD 😭😭😭”

“So when’s the wedding? 🤨”

“He was literally cheesing and crying omg”

“Get you a man that stops the car to declare his love”

“What if I did a five mile marathon on i-55”

“He’s so in love with you that it’s palpable”

“He was ready do a lot more than make out 😭”

Miguel saw most things, a little embarrassed but mostly happy that so many people found him to be genuine. 

You laid on his shoulder as he checked the comments, liking the funny ones as they passed by.

“Do you want to make a response video?” you say, liking a comment going ‘he’s a good man, Savannah.’

“No, I think this is enough,” he replies, handing the phone back to you. “Let me keep a little mystery. At least until I actually propose, of course.”

You looked at him with stars in your eyes.

“A mysterious husband. I kind of like the sound of that,” you say, wrapping your body around his side. “Maybe I can be nosy, find out his secrets.”

“I bet you would, cariño,” he voiced, nuzzling his chin on top of your head. “After, everything is planned and done.”

You laughed and snuggled closer, happy to be with him.

Once again, I hope you enjoyed reading! ❣️

Any likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated and welcomed.

I'm excited for the future of this series and I hope you guys are too. When I finish the series masterlist, I'll link it here. If you guys have any trends that you want me to include, then just let me know and I'll see what I can do!

- Lauro ♡

[bippiti]

hobie w a spider! reader who has sensitive hearing

- hobie is incredibly attuned to your needs as a bc of your hearing. he knows bc notices the impact certain sounds can have on you and takes extra care to create a quiet and comfortable environment whenever he can

noise cancelling trinkets bc he’s known to be somewhat of an engineer and tinkers often. he creates specialized noise-canceling devices to help lower the effects of loud sounds on your sensitive hearing. they gadgets can be worn in your ears, and they allow you to have better focus during missions

whispers hobie knows that you perfer soft speaking or whispers when possible, so he tends to speak to you in hushed tones. he knows that even the quietest of sounds can be way louder for you, so he adjusts his voice accordingly, making sure youre comfortable

apartment mods hobie makes modifications to your shared apartment, creating a safe haven of sorts where loud sounds are minimized. he installs soundproofing materials, places white noise machines, and even incorporates acoustic-friendly furniture, all designed to provide you with a quiet peaceful environment

music therapy hobie discovers that certain frequencies or types of music can actually help soothe and relax your sensitive hearing. he makes a bunch of playlists specifically designed to provide a calming and enjoyable experience for you, using music as a form of therapy and stress relief

[lotte-s-web]

Hobie who fucks you to his own songs, and sex isn’t all soft and lovely when kick-ass British-hardcore punk music plays in the background.

— SAMO 🎸🥀⁉️

samo babe youre trying to kill me this is the first thing i saw when i got home😭😭 youre so right tho i HAD to write a thing

💿✩ ❝record ❞ hobie brown x gn!reader ✩💿

₊˚⭑ warnings: penetrative sex, teasing, hobie records reader's voice, overstimulation (i think?)

God knows how long it’s been since his record started playing, but all you know is that he’s been wrecking you for more than 3 orgasms. You’re shaking, hands uselessly gripping at the sheets as if it’d tether your mind to your body, as if you could do anything against the unrelenting pace of his hips. Your cheeks are damp with overstimulated tears, your voice raspy from all the noise you’ve been making.

But noise doesn’t matter when his music is so loud, blasting from all angles of the room and drowning out even the loudest of your moans. It drowns out the loud clapping noise your bodies make as his hips meet your ass, over, and over and over again, following the ever-changing rhythm of each of his band’s songs. The combination of the aggressive music blasting in your ears and his length making space within your body making you dizzy with pleasure.

Hobie groans from behind you, his lean frame fucking into you from the back as he keeps his hand on your hips to pull you back against him with each thrust. His other hand is pushing down on your back, forcing you to arch for him, holding you down despite the way you writhe under him and making you take each thrust into you. 

His skin is covered in a light sheen of sweat, making his dark skin glisten in the dim lighting as if he was some god of the night. And with the way he was keeping you on the boundary between pain and pleasure tonight, it certainly felt like he was. 

He’s panting, groaning, and moaning above you, the rough and guttural sounds blending in with his song in a symphony that makes you clamp around him, your lust-addled mind soaking in his pleasure. His hips follow the aggressive beat of the drums, grating and angry guitar riffs pumping his veins with adrenaline and the energy to keep driving into you. His eyes zero on the way your greedy hole swallows in his cock as if it wasn’t enough, as if you hadn’t been complaining just a few minutes ago about it being too much. 

A new song plays, something even faster, even angrier. “Fuckin’ hell,” he grunts above you, stilling his pace to listen to the first few beats of this new song. The sudden stop gives you air to breathe, giving you time to gasp for air and thank whatever higher power there was for the much-needed break. Your face falls into his pillow, your body exhausted.

It’s just as sudden when he starts to move again, his hips pulling back and pushing back in, full force in one swift motion that makes you jolt, making you choke on your breath. The motion is repeated again, and again, and again in another swift rhythm that has you falling apart on his cock. It makes you whine into his pillow, trying to retreat from him in any way you could.

He clicks his tongue at that, disapproving, making his thrusts harder, making you moan louder. He removes his hand from your back to hold your cheeks in a firm grip, pulling your weakened body up flush against his chest. His mouth is right up in your ear as he continues his brutal pace, his fingers digging into the flesh on your hip and leaving purpling marks where they lay as he runs filth into your ear about how good he knows you sound. You can barely hear your own moans but his words ring loud and clear within the foggy state of pleasure he’s got you in.

“Wanna hear ya sing dove,” he groans into your ear, emphasizing each word with a thrust that hits right up against that gummy ridge that makes your eyes roll back and your mouth fall slack. He rests chin resting on the junction of your neck and shoulder, moaning into your skin as he starts to ramble in your ear. “Gonna— F–Fuck— gonna use i’ as yer audition tape, yeah? Mmmph— wanna show the band how fuckin’ pretty ya sound when y’re all fucked ou’ f’me.” 

You keen at the idea, getting his blood pumping hot through his body downwards to where he’s sheathed inside you, his grip on you tightening with every little noise that blends with his song. That’s when it hits him: an idea, a brilliant one. 

The hand on your hip moves away to scramble for something on the nightstand, your body trembling against his as he finds his tape recorder amidst the mess on the small table. He sets the device down underneath you and clicks a button, the cassette starting to roll just as he starts to move again, your whines and cries of pleasure all caught by his tape. You barely notice in your haze, too cockdrunk to even consider any resignations to the idea of you being recorded.

He hears your breath hitch at the idea of being recorded, your voice softly crying out his name in complaint. He chuckles, kisses your cheek then continues pumping up into you, murmuring into your ear, “who knows, hm? Migh’ even get ya on the next track li’ thi’.”

a/n: ik his accent here is shit guys MY BAD IM SORRY aghh its so hard to write it shfbdsh

๋࣭ ⭑ tag/s: @eyesxxyou, @s4mo-is-dead

[stormy-skyzzzzzz]

okay but imagine sitting in your partners lap and whispering “talk nerdy to me, baby”

and then imagine them rambling on about random things they learned or something new they read that day.

(guys i love when ppl ramble about random things)

[selfmessages]

Miguel O’Hara x reader | reader is referred to as ‘you’

synopsis: he masterbates to you

warnings: gn!reader, masterbation, nsfw[mdmi], sex(not actually), slightly rushed

Miguel can't remember the last time he got laid. It’s pathetic, really. With his looks and build, he could easily get sex from anyone, man or woman. Since he can remember, he’s been using his hand to get any sort of release, stroking his cock to naked bodies with no particular person in mind, but those times are few and far between.

So why? Why is he huddled in his bathroom, fisting his cock, while he has a guest in the other room?

You, of course.

You were the guest in his house, and you were the one he was masterbating to. Miguel isn’t sure when it started; it might’ve been when you first started working for him, all bright-eyed and naive, so painfully eager to work with him, so painfully eager to please him and gain his approval. You weaseled your way into his life and his mind, completely taking over his every thought. If Miguel wasn’t a man of logic and science, he would’ve thought you put a spell on him.

Seriously, what was so goddamn special about you to make him pitch a tent from being in close proximity to you? You had only moved closer to him to show him some research you thought was important, pressing your thigh and shoulder against his.

That. That was all it took for Miguel to abruptly stand up and excuse himself to the bathroom. Closing the door behind him, he ran his hands down his face, which would’ve been comical if not for the situation he was in. He looked down at his crotch, seeing his embarrassing bulge present.

Miguel let out a heavy sigh. There was no way he could wait for it to go down; it would take too long, and that would make you suspicious. Miguel shook his head in shame and quickly undid his belt buckle, pulling down his pants just enough for his semi-hard cock to spring out.

He stroked it a couple of times, letting it become fully hard. He closed his eyes and sped up his strokes, biting his lip to keep himself quiet. He tried so hard to keep his thoughts ‘clean,’ trying to revert back to his old ways of picturing faceless nude bodies, but to no avail. Every time he tried, the ‘faces’ would morph into yours. He groans, stroking his cock even faster, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible.

Unfortunately for him, his mind wanders. Images of you flash through his mind, and he can’t stop himself from thinking about how you would moan. What position would be best to take you in? Would his dick even fit in your tiny hole? How fast could he make you cum? Would you ride him? Miguel grips his cock tighter as pre-cum starts to stain his hands.

-

He’s over you and fucking you hard. You wrap your arms around his neck as he plows into you. Your back arches and your eyes roll to the back of your head. The sound of your skin slapping together and your moans fill the room. Miguel grips your thighs, pushing them forward too, so he can see his thick cock slipping in and out of your pretty hole.

You can’t help but cry out. "M-Miguel please-!!"

"Shh, don’t cry, you’re taking me so well."

All you can do is moan and mumble incoherent words. He has you completely dumb on his cock. Miguel can’t help but stare at the sight in front of him. Your fucked-out face is truly a sight to behold. Miguel pushes your thighs forward even further, completely folding you in half. He thrusts harder into you as you cry out and clench against him. His thrusts start to get sloppy. He thrusts into you a few more times and-

.

..

…

Miguel looked down at his hand. It was completely covered in his cum. He swears that was the most he’d ever cum. He looks around the bathroom and sees tiny stars dance around the room. A sharp knock on the door causes him jump. Your voice rings through the silence.

"Mr. O’Hara, are you alright in there?"

God, you were going to be the death of him.

[lust444men]

soft!hobie who when he climbs through your window at two in the morning, back from a jarring patrol, sees you on your bed in his tee shirt and some small shorts, out from under the covers. stripping himself from his clothes, letting out a slight grunt from the tense pain in his shoulder before crawling into your bed, hooking his arm underneath where your knee bends, lifting your legs gently to slide you back under your fluffy blanket and comfy feather duvet, putting your legs back down. he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling your back flat against his chest. he nuzzled the back of your neck, letting out a deep sigh as he finally felt comfortable. he thinks you never wake up, but you actually wake up the second the window creeks open. you're happy knowing hobie is soft, and hobie is happy thinking you have no idea.

[the-kr8tor]

The Morning after

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Word count: 2.2k

Synopsis: you spend a peaceful morning with Hobie.

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (reader is mentioned to be smaller than Hobie though) TW food mentions, established relationship, FLUFF , lovestruck Hobie.

A continuation of this fic.

My Masterlist

*I don't consent to having my work translated/published on other platforms*

Hobie wakes up with his right arm aching, he groans from the weight slightly crushing his arm– wait what?

He opens his half asleep eyes with a confused look. Hobie cranes his neck down, he finally sees who the intruder is.

Hobie smiles to himself, Fully waking up, he remembers that he invited you over. He stares at your form, memorizing every bit of detail from how you clutched his jumper with a grip, your lips slightly parted as you exhale, the early morning sun shines at your back, bathing your form in a heavenly glow. Hobie moves you closer to him, as to not let the rays hit your face and disturb your peace.

He tries to move you both farther away from the edge of the bed, but he finds that your legs are intertwined with his, preventing him from moving.

He huffs, a lopsided smile on his lips. Hobie ghosts his thumb over your cheeks, the pattern from the knitted blanket leaves a mark on your skin. A sign that you've slept well, and in his arms no doubt. His forgotten comforter kicked to the foot of the bed.

He gets a whiff of your coconut shampoo, surely leaving its scent on his pillow.

He thinks about buying a proper toothbrush holder, so he could place his and yours together.

He really should invite you more.

Hobie's spidey senses wake him up from his daze– he clutches you closer to his body, carefully cradling your head. A wave from a moving boat rushes towards the houseboat, rocking it harshly. His busted alarm clock drops to the floor in a crash.

Hobie hisses as he sees you twitch. He curses whoever was in that boat.

"Ughh" you groan out, muffled against Hobie's chest. You grip his jumper tighter.

"Shit" his voice deeper than usual, you release his jumper and instead hug his torso. The waves get calmer, rocking you both softly.

"You alright?" He rubs your back just in case you feel sick.

You pop your head away from Hobie's chest, chin resting on his scratchy jumper, you tickle him a bit, but he won't tell you that of course. You open one eye to stare at him, yawning.

"Say that again?" You ask with a tilt of your head.

"Are you alright?" He hides his laugh by clearing his throat.

"Hmm" you grin "I like your morning voice"

He chuckles deeply, knowing what it does to you.

"Oh, you did that on purpose, you dork" you softly say.

"Yeah, bet it got you all hot and bothered for it too, huh" Hobie pokes your sides teasingly.

"Don't start" you swat away his hand, noticing his teasing mood this morning, you anticipate his tickling.

"You look pretty in the morning, you didn't wake up early and clean yourself up secretly, right?" He knows you didn't, sleep still sticking on your eyes, your hair looking disheveled.

"Nope, it's au naturel" you quip back. It earns a deep chuckle from Hobie.

He carefully rubs off the gunk from the corner of your eye, you sigh into his touch.

"You like my morning breath too?" He tries to blow air downwards but you're ready, you clasp your hand over his mouth, stopping his teasing.

You laugh victorious, that is until he licks your hand, recoiling your hand away, he laughs loudly.

"Hobie! That's it, I'm not making you breakfast"

"Alright, alright, I'll stop. For now" he grabs the back of your head pushing you back to his chest.

You move to the crooked of his neck instead, in case you're crushing him. You slyly wipe his drool from your hand on his jumper.

"I saw that" Hobie peeks downward.

"No, you didn't"

"This is vintage y'know"

"It's your own drool!" You laugh.

"Yeah! And you slobbered all over it while you used me as your personal pillow" he rubs the exposed skin on your waist, cupping the softness fondly.

"I don't slobber!" You grab his jaw downwards so you could look eye to eye.

"Tell that to my soaked jumper" he whispers, his eyes flickering down to your lips. Your heart skips a beat.

Knowing what he's gonna do next, you cover his lips over your hand, "let me brush my teeth first"

You push away from Hobie, your torso barely off the bed, he grabs you by the waist, pulling you back down. You gasp out.

"Nope" in one swift movement Hobie cups your cheek guiding you towards his lips, your lips crash against each other, you cringe when your forehead hits his a bit too loudly. Insecurity fills you when you remember that you still have morning breath.

He doesn't care though, instead he pokes your sides, making you gasp parting your lips, making him kiss you deeper.

You pull away breathlessly when you hear a rumbling noise underneath you.

"Ah, fuck" Hobie facepalms in embarrassment.

Hobie's stomach grumbles again, mocking him.

You grab his hand, peeking in "aww, my poor baby is hungry" you mockingly coo. "I'll make you breakfast, sunny side up right?" You push off him, finally noticing you're on the wrong side of the bed.

"Yes, please, love" he exhales out the embarrassment.

"How'd I end up on this side?" You point out.

"Huh, I probably dragged you with me"

You imagine what it might've looked like, you fluster. Even asleep he wants you near, you look at him adoringly, swiping away the sheen on his lips before leaving a kiss for good measure.

You leave for the bathroom, he stares at the door you entered in, a lovestruck expression on his face. Once he knows you're decent, he flips away the covers, following towards the sound of the faucet squeak open.

Hobie knocks, you hum while brushing your teeth. He opens the door, then leans against it, his arms relaxed on his sides, his sweatpants hang low on his hips.

He admires you bathe in white fluorescent light, his shirt on your form hanging loose on you. You looked out of place but at the same time fitting right in his tiny bathroom.

He thought you looked like you came out of an oil painting.

"You need to use the bathroom?" You ask as you place your toothbrush down.

"You should leave it"

"Leave what?"

"Your toothbrush, for next time" Hobie crosses his arms, a sudden shyness floods him.

"Of course" you smile, already getting what he's trying to say, "I was already planning on leaving it" you come forward, leaving a minty kiss on his cheek. "Your turn stinky" you pat his bum with a smack.

Hobie hears your laughter echo around the houseboat.

-

After washing up, Hobie opens the bathroom door, the smell of eggs and his favourite tea covers his senses. He chuckles to himself.

He could get used to this.

Hobie enters his modest kitchen, you hum along to the music from the radio, the inside of his houseboat looks a bit different than before, there's more light shining inside, fresh air wafts through the open windows, it seems that there's more life in his home.

He moves towards you, hugging you from behind. You giggle at the contact. He looks over your shoulder, he watches as you expertly flip the pancake over.

"Hello to you too" you crane your neck to look at him "I opened the windows, it's too nice outside. Hope you don't mind"

"I don't mind, we need the fresh air" he snuggles deeper on the crook of your neck. "Where'd you get pancake mix? I know that I don't have any"

"Ah, I brought it with me" you side glance at him, gauging his reaction.

"So, you were planning on making breakfast for me, hmm?"

"I did bring it, but it doesn't mean I was planning on cooking it myself" you turn off the stove, he turns you around, crowding you in between him and the stove.

"So you're making me breakfast out of the goodness of heart then?" He holds onto your hips.

"Yes, you're making the next one by the way"

"You're a cheeky one, aren't you?" He leans towards you, his lips ghosting over yours, but before sealing the deal, he grabs his mug behind you. He sips from it loudly, making eye contact over the mug.

You roll your eyes, trying to hide your disappointment. "You're a menace" you give him a plate of eggs, sunny side up just like how he requested it. "Make yourself useful, and set the table"

Hobie sees his kitchen counter slash dining table, that's not gonna cut it out for you. He looks out of the window, the rare sun shining over the river, fluffy white clouds blanket the sky.

It's a beautiful morning, a shame to waste it.

He pushes the door open, leading to his 'porch'

"Where are you going?" You ask curiously.

"You'll see" Hobie peeks back inside, a smirk on his face.

You shake your head at his shenanigans, you wonder what he's planning.

The water looks calm, the cold morning air nips at his skin, his jumper barely protecting him from the cold. Hobie sees the metal table wet with morning dew, that won't do, so he grabs a nearby cloth to wipe it dry, he carefully puts down the plate of eggs and his tea, to wipe at the mismatched chairs.

Hobie wipes the wooden chair more thoroughly, since the metal one looks more worn down, he's concerned you might poke yourself on it.

He looks at his handiwork, there seems to be something missing, Hobie roams his eyes around the boat, his eyes stop at an empty beer bottle, he places it in the middle of the table acting as a centerpiece.

Then he perches himself near the edge of his boat to pick a single daisy from a neighbouring houseboat's flower pot; he's sure they wouldn't notice one missing. Hobie gingerly puts the small flower inside the bottle.

You open the door with your foot a little too loudly, you squint at the harsh sound. Hobie quickly moves to help you carry out the plates and mug.

"Thanks, Hobie," you grin, your smile gets wider when you see his little set up. The little daisy swaying in the air. "Oh, handsome" you gasp out.

You're finished, your eyes slightly glazing over.

Hobie chuckles at his new nickname, he moves the wooden chair for you to sit, hands on its back, like a gentleman.

" C'mon then, stop gawking, I'm starving" he stares at your dumbstruck face, the cold air leaving goosebumps on your arms.

You sit down, smiling, forgetting the cold air.

"Do you want me to grab a jacket?" He asks as he rubs your arms from behind.

You grab his wrist, you bracelet around it with your fingers, "no, stay, I'm okay" you sniff, revealing your lie.

"Nah, I'm not letting you freeze to death, let me grab it real quick, alright?" Hobie runs inside, eager to come back to you.

Oh, he's absolutely whipped for you, no doubt about it.

You revel in the sun shining on you, closing your eyes, you inhale sharply. Hobie sees you like this, his breath hitches in his throat. You must look heavenly, a slight breeze makes your eyelashes flutter. Opening your eyes, you notice eyes on you, you smile at him.

He's done for.

Waking up from his stupor, he wraps the dark hoodie on your head. A feeble attempt to hide the effect you have on him

"And here I thought you were being sweet on me" you tease him, knowing that he actually is soft for you.

"I've got a reputation, y'know" he sits down with a metal creak.

Hobie notices that you're sitting a little bit too far for his taste. "What are you doing there? C'mere" he grabs your chair, pulling it towards him, the wooden legs scraping against the metal of the boat.

You laugh, despite the harsh sound coming from the scraping.

"There, much better?" He leans on the arms of his chair.

You nod, a permanent smile on your face "much better" you kiss his cheek, your cold lips a contrast to his warm skin, it melts into his skin, etching in like a tattoo.

You intertwine your arm around his, speaking softly, as to not disturb your little peaceful bubble around the both of you, " y'know I thought you would be grumpier in the morning"

"Why's that?" He leans closer.

"I don't know, you seem like the type" you whisper against his lips, "you're a night owl, so I thought you would hate waking up this early"

"Only if I don't sleep well" heat rises in your cheeks at his implication, "Lucky for me I've got my very own koala latching on to me last night"

You raise your eyebrow "Really a koala, that's the best you can do, Hobart?"

"You always resort to calling me by my government name whenever you're flustered, koala works, lovey" he cups your jaw, his thumb brushes past your lips. You close your eyes, leaning in.

Before your lips could meet, you hear a gurgling sound.

You pull away, laughing loudly. Hobie lets out a small goddamnit.

"We should eat, before your stomach starts eating you from the inside" you say in between laughs.

"Yeah, yeah" he grumpily grabs his spoon.

You hide your smile behind your mug.

A/N: thanks for reading! Hope you liked it, as always likes and reblogs are appreciated ❤️❤️❤️

*image above is from pinterest*

[jaozendry]

"You're better off without me."

Pairing: Tom!Peter Parker x GN!Reader

Warnings: trauma, death, unhappy ending

Summary: You have been victim of Doctor Strange's memory erasing spell as well; you have no idea who Peter Parker is. In another life, he was your loving boyfriend, but now, he is nothing more than a forgotten memory. You are still the biggest Spider-Man fan, even after the spell, but the friendly neighbourhood crime fighter doesn't pull his punches as much anymore. You welcome a new student at Midtown High School and he's strange: he knows almost every single thing about you. The two of you get closer and closer over the course of a few days when one night, a mysterious figure is knocking at your window.

______________________________________________________________

You're the biggest Spider-Man fan; well, you were. After the destruction of the new and improved Statue of Liberty, you notice the crime fighting "hero" doesn't hold back as much anymore. You are aware of what he is capable of: superhuman strength, wall climbing, web shooting, Spidey-Sense, etc., but the petty criminals he fought would just end up with a few bruises and walk it off after being arrested. Lately, they ended up with severe injuries, such a broken bones and ended up in a hospital for a few days, even weeks. The whole world watches as the fallen hero crawls more and more towards the darker side. This isn't the same friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man you knew.

Other than that, life for you has been pretty boring lately. Same school, same friends, same teachers, same routine, except for one thing; a new student is now attending Midtown High School: Peter Parker. You've never seen him before and you're kind of weirded out by his presence; he showed up out of nowhere in the middle of the school year. Nevertheless, you decide to welcome him.

"Hey, I'm Y/N Y/L/N, welcome to Midtown High School!" you say as you reach in to shake his hand. He reaches back nervously. You can feel his anxiousness through the hand shake that went on for a few seconds. "I'm uh... Peter Parker." he says softly.

"Hi Peter! Do you want me to show you around the school? you ask with a gentle smile. "Nah, uh, I'm good. I already know a little around the place."

"Uh, sure thing. Shall we go to class, then?" you reply. He nods in approval as you both head to the science class.

______________________________________________________________

The principal asked you to accompany Peter as he adapts to this new school, even though he's seemingly already used to the place. Since you're his guide, the two of you got very close during the last few days. To your surprise, he seems to know everything about you: your likes, your dislikes, your talents, your weaknesses, etc. He even got you this nice necklace you've been dying for over the course of the last weeks, but couldn't afford. He seems really nice, but you can't help but feel something is wrong. This new student seems to know... every single thing about you, it's like he already knew you before getting into Midtown High School.

All of those paranoid thoughts keep you up tonight. You have no idea why, but you can't sleep on this snowy night, when all of the sudden, you hear knocking from your window. As you remove the curtain, you see none other than Spider-Man himself, hanging from a web, still knocking on your window. You move back quickly without skipping a beat while he removes his mask before you: you recognize Peter's beautiful face. You've been gaslighting yourself into believing you didn't have a crush on him until this very moment. You open the window as the vigilante crawls inside your room.

"Peter, what the hell are you doing here?! You can't be here, especially not as goddamn Spider-Man! I didn't even know! " you prattle on, furious and confused. "Look, Y/N, I know it's a horrible idea to come here as, you know, a human spider, but I needed you to know everything." You're slowly tilting your head, confused as ever, thinking this is a fever dream. "Then, what is this about?" you ask, giving up. He sighs his soul out. "I know this sounds... crazy, but everything I'm saying is true, I promise." he tells you, trying to calm you down. "Crazier than you being Spider-Man?" you lash out. "Yes, crazier." he says, telling you to quiet down with his nonverbal.

"Ugh, where do I start?" he asks himself out loud, his eyes welling up. "I had to make a huge sacrifice to save the world; no, the multiverse from threats from all universes. I even lost my aunt to one of them and I realized that... some people can't be forgiven." he explains, his voice breaking. "And that led you to go after petty criminals? I watch the news, Peter Benjamin Parker. I know what you did to some of them-" He cuts you off abruptly, feeling guilty. "I couldn't control myself, Y/N! I lost everyone I loved, you included!" he lashes out as he breaks into tears. You grab his hands and ask him what happened softly. He explains the situation as he slowly calms down: "Doctor Strange cast a spell that made everyone in the world forget who I am; everyone in the entire multiverse who knew I was Spider-Man was going to enter this world, and I tell you, there was an entire army, each of them as dangerous as Green Goblin. I had no choice, I asked Doctor Strange to make everyone forget who I am, even you." he explains while trying to not scream.

You can clearly see the honesty in his eyes; also the pain and suffering. "Then, what were we to each other? Before the spell?" you ask, holding his face softly. "You were everything I ever wanted, Y/N Y/L/N, you were my reason to live and my reason to continue as Spider-Man. You were everything to me. I loved you and I still do." he says with tears in his eyes, gently grabbing your shoulder. "But I can't stay here. I need to leave. All of my loved ones get into trouble when it comes to the superhero stuff, and you can't get involved in that, not again. You're better off without me." Upset but also understanding, you reach in to kiss him and he engages back. The two of you go on for a few seconds until he breaks free and wipes the tears away from your eyes. "I don't want this either, Y/N, but it's what's best for you." he says, his voice breaking.

You hold his hand softly as he leaves for the window once again. He crawls out and hands you a bracelet from the roof. "You gave it to me as a gift before the spell. Maybe it'll help you remember." he tells you with a forced smile. As he swings away, you inspect the bracelet.

"I don't remember... I want to, but... I don't remember him..."

[pastelclovds]

I just know Spot uses his powers to watch Reader from afar, but not in a creepy way at all, just in a lovesick puppy crush way. Reader doesn’t mind at all, and when they acknowledge his presence by saying “hello” to him, Spot just squeaks and quickly disappears into one of his spots. I just love dorky shy guys. 🤍🖤

[saturncodedstarlette]

Y/N : Damn boy what that mouth do.

Hobie : Critique capitalism.

[politemenacephd]

Monster!Miguel One-shots Vol. 1 (+18)

Vampire!Miguel O'Hara x GN!Reader

Masterlist

Contents: Blood Thirst, Vampire Bites, Blood Drinking, Rough Body Play, Clothes Ripping, PinV Sex, Partially Public Sex, Creampie.

Note: gender neutral pronouns and terms are used for reader, and the only physical characteristic mentioned is vaginal anatomy

Word count: 1749

You’d agreed to just a little bite. That was all.

The poor man had been ravenous. He’d been shaking when he begged you. To see Miguel in all his glory, down on his knees in a dark puddle in a dark alley, pleading for release, of course it broke your heart.

You’d always assumed the comments about him being a vampire were in jest, snide comments behind his back based on his terrifying red eyes and sharp teeth. That was until you’d seen him tonight.

It was your first mission just you and him, and even with your limited exposure to the mysterious head of the Spider Society you’d known something was up. He was trembling, agitated, his body clearly not up to its usual strength.

You noticed the way he eyed you up; smelling your hair when you weren’t looking, gripping his hands into fists as if holding something back.

Eventually it’d gotten too much. After accidentally letting your target escape, he’d collapsed in the street, and he’d explained to you on his knees that he was starving. He needed blood, and you smelled too good. If you’d just give him a little, just the smallest bite, he could recover at last.

Was it strange? Yes, but he was always courteous to you. He was reserved but kind, stoic in a tired way. He had a short temper, but it’d never been aimed at you.

So, you said yes. You said you’d help to relieve his hunger, and you bathed in the messy and frantic praise he’d offered.

You’d let him lift you into his muscular arms and claw his way up the side of an old department store building, pulling your body through a broken window and into a storage room in the attic.

Here, you’d be alone. Here, he could feed. Here, nobody would hear.

You’d expected him to be hungry. You just hadn’t realized how ravenous he was, nor what drinking blood did to him.

‘F-Fuck, ah—c-careful—’

Your voice echoed in the empty room, and his pleasurable grunt echoed with it. It was so dark that you could barely see a thing. You winced, again, from the strange new sensations surging through your body.

‘Ah—c-careful, Miguel, please—’

You squeaked, the only sound that could escape your throat as he clamped your shoulder in his jaw. Your neck was soaked, smeared in spit and venom and bruises, a leftover gift from when he’d searched for the safest spot to drink.

He’d settled on the spot between your collarbone and neck, and there his teeth had sunk in.

With his fangs pierced right down to the bone and his lips bruising your skin, he continued to carefully suck your blood out and into his mouth. It felt like heaven, like mana, warm and wet sliding down his throat. To you it was a confusing mix of pleasure and pain.

‘A-Ah… is—is it, okay?’ you whimpered.

Miguel let out a low moan in response.

You couldn’t move. You were clamped in his jaw, the jaw of a predator designed to keep its prey still, and his body was pinning yours to the cold wood of the floor.

To any passerby you would have looked terrifying. His body was obscured in the dark, appearing as just a hulking, bloody shadow, merging and distorting the outline of your own form; the visage of a monster in the night, consuming the body of a frightened human.

But that wasn’t how you saw it. No, you were in the thralls of absolute delight.

You felt the heat of his venom gently numbing the area. Whatever he was pumping you with must have been making you more susceptible, because your body was tingling from toe to head. You were unbearably sensitive.

One of his hands was on your waist, his claws carefully drawing you up until you were held taut beneath his body, and the other hand was feverish groping your chest.

He’d torn your suit to feed and then torn a little further, leaving your skin bare right down to your ribs. He was squeezing, stroking, his thumb desperately massaging your nipple. He wanted to hear your whimpers, your soft jolts when he overstimulated that sensitive spot.

You felt him sink down between your legs, his hardened bulge thick and round as it nudged at your skin-tight suit. He was softly grinding it up against your panties.

How crass. You’d never do this, never. This wasn’t like you at all.

But you were doing it now.

You were mewling as he dry-humped your little body. Your breath was ragged, the soft puffs of condensation from your lips turned a ghostly white by the pale light.  

What sweet rapture.

You see, what you hadn’t anticipated was that feeding was more than a basal act for him.

It was a full body orgasmic experience, feeding every positive stimulus in his brain and body. Every nerve in his body was on fire in the best way. His body was pulsing, pumping. His arms were covered in goosebumps, his dark hair standing on end, and his cock was painfully erect behind his suit.

He needed relief. He needed more.

‘Mmm… mmm.’

His muffled groans got harder as he continued to feed. His conscious brain was fighting those deep, supernatural urges, the need to indulge in pleasure no matter the consequences, but his subconcious was primal.

If he had his way he’d drain everything, slowly, all while pumping between your legs into your pretty little cunt, but he couldn’t allow that.

You poor, sweet, naïve thing, you’d just let him take you up here. Your whimpers were heaven, but your softness was too pure for him to fully ruin.

So he forced himself to break.

He withdrew his fangs and pulled back, revealing the purple, bruised skin of your shoulder. He licked the wound clean before forcing himself away.

‘Please, please, if you—if you give me your wrist, I-I’ll be done, and—’

Miguel paused to pant, his lips still stained red. You watched your own blood drip down his chin.

‘And, if I could… have you, in another way, it—may help to, calm my impulses’ he said, his voice husky and dark. You watched his eyes glimmer a bright and crimson red. 'May I have you?'

‘Yes’ you instinctively blurted, ‘ah—yes, please, that—’

You were silenced as he kissed you. His lips were hard, rough, and you could taste the metallic sting of blood on them still. When he pulled back he looked overjoyed.

‘Good. Good. Come here’ he barked.

You jolted as he dragged your body forward. He unsheathed his claws and carefully tore a hole through your suit and panties in one, rendering him a useful slit. You shuddered as the cold air hit your bare and slick-coated pussy, but Miguel didn’t leave you bare for long.

He roughly manhandled you into a mating press before phasing his own suit away, allowing his already erect shaft to fall down hard on your clit. The sight caused a small, surprised noise to escape your throat, one that he relished.

He was slow, deliberately distracting you with his cock as he raised your wrist to his mouth. He kept you captivated as he carefully slid it inch by inch down your swollen clit, letting you feel every inch, and while you stared at that he gently licked his venom across your frail skin. He was numbing you in preperation.

You felt him pushing that thick member right up against your opening. His panting was getting harder. The double pleasure, the double temptation, of sinking both his teeth and his cock into you at once. It was enough to make him shake.

With a soft grunt he penetrated both.

‘F-F—MM—’

Your words were turned to gibberish as he pushed his cock in deep, until his pelvis was perfectly squished up against you. The moment your blood hit his throat he started to pump.

You were inside him, and he was inside you. On that filthy, cold floor, you were his.

He started to slide his shaft in tandem with his teeth. As his fangs gently shifted beneath the skin, as his lips sucked and bruised, his fat shaft gently slipped in and out of your cunt. For such a furious feeder he was a surprisingly gentle lover.

You could hear it reverberating through the empty attic. The slap of skin, the grunts, the sound of his claws scraping. The soft sound of him sucking at your wrist, the sound of the wood creaking as he fucked you into it.

He was terrifyingly strong, that much was clear up close. He bent your thighs until they ached, his claws digging into the soft fat as he held you in place, and with each insertion you could feel the power he was holding back.

You felt him pumping, drawing out your precious blood while his cock ravaged you from inside. Each delicious slip, each pulsing throb, every time you felt his veiny shaft twitching for attention against your creamy walls, it was unbearable.

All too soon you were lightheaded.

You were whining, your heavy breathes producing less and less ghostly condensation. Miguel was panting furiously with each thrust, his breath condensing like smoke as he huffed through his curled nose. He was lost in the pleasure, the urge, the need.

But the sex was important. He had an end point there, one that didn’t exist with feeding, one strong enough to snap him out of his blood drunk trance.

And between the tightness, the heat, the copious oozing slick squelching and pooling around his bare skin and dripping off his balls as they smacked your rear, mixed with the sound of you whining and the fresh blood in his veins, he couldn’t last any longer.

‘MMF—’

With a single, muffled groan, Miguel orgasmed inside you. His red eyes rolled back and his body began to buck, smacking your hip bones until they went numb all in hopes of filling you completely.

Just as he felt your hot blood filling his mouth you felt his thick seed pooling and squishing its way into your cunt, filling every available space. It started to seep out as he continued to hump your limp body, now hanging in sweat, hot pearly strings between his pelvis and your inner thighs.

He pumped inside you until he was utterly spent, his own head now hazy and light, and at last he released you. Your wrist fell limp to the floor.

‘Ah… ah, mm.’

Miguel coyly wiped his mouth on the back of his wrist before brushing your forehead. ‘Are—are you okay?’

The relief he felt when you shakily nodded was unmatched. Thank god, he didn’t go too far this time.

‘Thank you’ he murmured, his claws lingering on your cheek. ‘You were… delicious.’