andy-wandy

[andy-wandy]

bite the hand (chapter 3)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

pairing: spider-woman!oc x miguel o’hara 

summary: lorena's whole world was taken away from her in the blink of an eye, after she accidentally broke a canon event. lucky for her though, she was able to find a portal watch in her dimension and used it to get out before she glitched out of existence. unfortunately though, running from dimension to dimension, she's been named as an anomaly by the spider society. now, she's constantly on the run from them, their leader in particular. when she eventually gets caught though, she's recruited onto a mission to catch another anomaly who might be from her past. to her dismay though, her partner on this mission is her very captor. will she be able to stop arguing with him for long enough to get the job done?

info: enemies to lovers, maybe a slow burn depending on chapter count, oc is 24 and miguel is 27, both oc and miguel are super sad lmao, they're also both super violent so, they also hate each other what a slay, in regards to my oc you can read her character sheet right here

warnings: there might be spoilers for atsv in this so watch the movie before reading this, cursing, blood description, violence and gore, suggestive at the end but i wouldnt count it as nsfw, fang stuff lol

word count: 2.3k

notes: this chapter took me SO LONG to write for no reason, but i was also super busy this past week so sorry for the absence. i wasn't even planning to write the last little bit but once it came to me i couldnt stop writing it lmao. again, if you see me use "you" instead of "she/her" just ignore it i probably missed it while proofreading and it's instinct lol.

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The forcefield handcuffs almost seemed like they were tightening themself onto Lorena’s fists every time she would wiggle around in them. Her hands had been pressed into fists when they were put on, so her nails were currently digging into her palms. She was alone in the office for now, Miguel had stepped out for a moment to talk to Jess about something. She had been scoping the area for some type of escape. Her hands were currently out of commission for the moment, and she didn’t want to try out her acid webs to break the field, afraid it won’t be strong enough and her hands will be flooded and burning in acid until Miguel eventually takes the cuffs off. The room was surrounded in windows, so she could possibly make her escape by jumping out of one of them. But she was most likely too high in the air to survive (for Miguel would probably bind her legs as well if not). Or maybe she could try to make a run for the door? No, that was just stupid. She seemed to be out of options. 

Her train of thought was run off course when Miguel walked into the room, practically fuming. He sat down behind his desk, wiping a hand across his face. His drowsiness hadn’t been helping is annoyed attitude much. Neither was Lorena’s constant squirming in her seat, even if it was right in front of his face. He sat at his desk, flipping through his digital files of Earth-86’s Venom, the constant clacking of her metal chair against the floor invading into his ears. 

“Would you stop that?” he finally asked. She stopped squirming, and slouched back in her chair. “So by your upbeat attitude about this, I can assume that I wasn’t your first choice for a mission partner, right?” she asked. “Wow, look at that, the anomaly knows how to read between the lines,” he replied sarcastically, not even looking up at her. “Would you stop calling me that? You know my name. I don’t even know yours.” That was a lie, she did know his name, but she wanted to hear it come from his mouth. “Why though? It’s what you are. An anomaly. And you don’t need to know my name. Just call me O’Hara,” he said, still not looking up at her. His last name was at least a start. It still pissed her off.

Being known as nothing more than “an anomaly” to him. To anyone at this place for that matter. It wasn’t like she chose for her world to collapse. After sitting in silence again, the only noise being the digital swipe of the pages in the files, Lorena cleared her throat. “So…do you feel like filling me in on the notes of the mission?” Silence. Then words. Just a simple, but stern “No.” Lorena rolled her head back behind the seat. “So when I mess up during the mission on accident because I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing, you won’t get mad and start yelling at me?” “You won’t mess up. You’ll learn the details when you need to know them,” he said. 

Miguel found himself a little bewildered when he found Lorena’s foot up on top of the desk. “¿Qué mierda haces?” he asked. A smirk formed on Lorena’s face when she realized he was finally looking at her. “Dejaré de molestarte si me dices lo que está pasando,” she responded. He groaned. He shouldn’t be doing this. It was a really stupid move. But he knew he wasn’t going to be able to focus with Lorena bothering the whole time. So he got up, locked the door, and went behind her to uncuff her from the chair. 

She had been close to him many times before this, but this was the first time she was able to take in his scent. It was a mixture of a lot of products at once at first. His hair gel and his aftershave were most prominent, but were quickly overpowered by the smell of his pungent cologne. He walks away almost as fast as he appeared. “Ven aquí,” he said, sitting down, allowing her to walk over. Lorena got up from her chair, her hands still tied behind her back but free from the seat. She hovered over him looking down at the files, trying to keep her eyes away from Eddie’s picture. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing to a list of numbers on the file. “His current dimension location. Right now he’s on Earth-526,” he said, eyes still on the file. “So why don’t we just go get him now?” she asked. Miguel looked up from the folder with an annoyed face. “Do you happen to have a secret plan you’d like to share about how we would catch him once we get there?” he asked, rhetorically. She returned the look. “That’s what I thought.” She rolled her eyes as he looked back at the digital papers.

“We’ll head out tomorrow morning. I need to gather a plan of action, and you need to at least partially heal your rib,” he said, getting up and holding her by her arm again to escort her out to the medbay to finally receive medical attention. “All a sudden concerned for my well-being? Why the sudden change of heart, O’Hara?” she quipped. “I couldn’t give two shits about how hurt you are. I just don’t want you being weak to end up getting me killed for one reason or another,” he said, dragging her out of the room. “Oh, how sweet of you.”

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

A bigger version of Lyla was in the medbay with Lorena, giving her a variety of futuristic treatments for her ribs. The one she was currently performing was a slew of shots into her side, that according to her would act as a cast on the bones. “Are you sure there isn’t another way to get you guys off my ass that doesn’t involve being around him?” Lorena asked to Lyla. “Trust me, if there was, I think Miguel would’ve let you know by now,” she responded. “How does anyone here deal with him?” she continued to ask, wincing from the needle entering her side. “Because most people here didn’t start out on his bad side. You got unlucky.” “Tell me about it.”

“Listen, once you’re on his bad side, it’s almost impossible to get off of it. So if I had any advice to give to you, just keep annoying the shit out of him. If he’s gonna be a dick to you, you should be one back,” Lyla said. Lorena chuckled. “Thanks, I guess.” “No problem, it’s what I’m here for.”

Once she finished with the final needle, Lyla went back to her smaller form. “Alright, that should do enough for now. Let me show you to your quarters.” Lorena stood up, barely feeling any pain in her side at this point. She followed Lyla out into the hallway, through the elevator, and into her room. It was a small dorm, a cot tucked into the corner of the room with a small blanket on top of it. A sink and a toilet was also included in the back corner. The only good part of the room was the view. The back wall was an enormous window, outlooking the rest of the city. The bright lights of Nueva York was enough to light up the entire room. “I’ll be back to get you up in the morning. For now, just try to recharge,” Lyla said before her avatar popped out of the air. Lorena took a deep sigh and looked around her temporary home for however long this mission would take.

She enjoyed looking outside the window to see the bustling night life going on below her. She could hear flying cars honking at each other, and see strobe lights blinking in distant night clubs. It all reminded her of her own home. She yearned for the days when she used to go out into the city with her friends and just be teenagers. No weird spider-powers, no dead uncle or boyfriend yet, nothing to hold her back. But, such was life. She just had a hard time accepting this is what it meant for her now. The thoughts ran through her mind as her eyes fluttered closed as she put her head to the pillow on the cot.

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

Fuck, not again. A frequent nightmare that would return every couple of weeks. Lorena would be sitting down in a field of grass, Eddie’s head resting atop her lap while the rest of his body would be laying in the grass. She would stroke her fingers through his hair while he would plant kisses into her thighs. The daffodils blooming next to her legs. The leaves on the willow trees in the distance blowing in the wind. The sky would be an orangish-pink, cirrocumulus clouds floating through it. She would take in three deep breaths. Then the wind would pick up its speed, whipping her maroon hair across her face. Almost like it was supposed to be covering her eyes for a switch-out trick. Once she would be able to get her hair out of her face, the weight in her lap would suddenly change. It would feel heavier.

Then she would look down. Then she would see it.

Eddie’s severed head, with its crimson liquid seeping into Lorena’s pants.

In her dream, Lorena would be unable to move, causing her to be only able to sit there in horror until the head would roll off of her lap. Liquid would continue to pour out of it, but its color would change from its ruby red to a pitch black. Then it’s consistency would change into some sort of sticky goop, and begin creeping closer to her. Once her conscious would gift her back her movement, it would no longer be of use to her, as the goop would begin to trap her to the ground as soon as it touched her. Her struggling to break free would only cause her to become more entangled in it as it pulled her further down into the dirt. Then, the goop coming out of his head would transform itself slowly into a body. The same alien body that she killed that day. Once the massive body was complete, and the only thing left of Eddie was his head, the goop around Lorena would slowly start consuming her, wrapping up all of her. The last thing she would see as she desperately tried, but failed, to keep the substance from covering her face, was the material covering Eddie’s mouth, and crawling into that sinister, white, toothy, smile that would send shivers down her spine.

Then, pitch black. 

Lorena shot up from the cot in a cold sweat, but resisted the scream itching at her throat from the fear of waking up anyone else who might be around her room, as it was still night. She wiped her face of its salt and patted around her cot to make sure this wasn’t a dream. She was caught off guard when her hands suddenly phased through the material. Was she dreaming inside her dream? This hadn’t happened to her before. 

A cold, sharp, feeling suddenly rushed through her neck. She slowly turned her head to the left, to find a pair of fangs in her neck. They were his. His body stood behind her bed, shadowing over hers. This time with his fangs was different though. Instead of of venom seeping into her neck, she could feel blood being pulled out of it. Almost as if he was some kind of vampire, sucking on her neck for nutrients. Her hands shot into his hair, pulling down on strands for support as his teeth sank deeper into her neck. His strong hands wrapped around her hips and pulled her closer up closer to him. Butterflies filled her stomach and small sighs escaped her mouth as his sucking would get more intense and his fingers pressed into her skin. Lorena was unable to see his face, only a couple of strand of hair that would peek through her peripherals. She found herself almost addicted to the feeling his hands on her brought to her, this time moaning when his hands roamed from her hips to her breasts under her shirt. 

But just as fast as his fangs went into her, they were soon ripped out, blood trickling down her neck. She was gently placed back to lay down, his hands leaving a lingering trace after he removed them from her body. She closed her eyes for a second, then opened them to find his face, upside down over hers. Her own blood dripped down from his chin onto her nose. He slowly lowered down closer to her face, until Lorena sped it up by grabbing his face and pulling his lips onto hers. His kiss was ferocious, hers equally passionate. She couldn’t tell if her kiss was filled more with lust or hate for him. His warm tongue slipped into her mouth, exploring it with its own will. 

While they were making out though, Lorena could feel the light slowly slipping from her. Right, he took her blood for himself. As she struggled to keep consciousness, she put all of the energy she had into kissing him, as he groaned into her mouth when she bit down onto his lip. No, no, no, not now, not yet, she thought to herself as she continued to slip away, begging herself to stay alive for one more second to be able to taste more of him. 

As the her soul finally left her body, the last thing she could sense was the taste of his spit, as his tongue slathered it over the inside of her cheeks.

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

After she woke up from whatever this dream was, she could still feel the lingering butterflies swarming in her stomach as Lyla popped into her room to wake her up for the day and mission ahead.

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

a/n: i watched spiderverse for a 3rd time and miguel is still so fine idc

taglist: @the-ikran-man @jenniferdixon05207 @yuuuumii @elwyn7 @waniesss @lust-for-pan @natthernandez @pix-stuff @ang3lf4c3 @artfulthoughtswp

[andy-wandy]

Can you write a college roommate head cannon for miguel O’Hara ( 18+ f!reader)

ik you asked for HCs but I have no self control... my bad, anon!

College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

summary: Miguel is your roommate. And he’s hot. That’s it, that’s the tweet.

warnings: 18+ as fuuuck. F-receiving oral, using toys, masturbation, voyeurism (-ish), grinding, praise, service dom (idk?) Miguel, recreational drug use (reader and Miggy smoke a blunt). Minors DNI

a/n: I am a firm believer that modern day Miguel listens to 90s rnb, back when men were men: unabashedly, unashamedly down so fucking bad for their partners. he just gives me those vibes!!

wc: 6k

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

I'm thinking you become roommates but he's your last choice. 

Very last minute: you have a big falling out with your now ex-boyfriend, and the plans for flatsharing next semester goes right out the window. 

So all the good places are taken, and you're going apartment-hunting, but everywhere's either too expensive, too dirty, or there's a predatory clause hidden in the lease: shitty landlords and blaring red flags in 9pt Times New Roman. 

When you stumble upon Miguel O'Hara; a student in private accomodation who, lucky you, is in need of a roommate; it feels like a godsend.

Rent is affordable and he's nice enough; refusing to grunt more than a few words to you, but is clean, organised, and from what you can tell, is barely in the apartment. 

You sign onto the lease, desperately, hoping you've just been lucky and trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

You give a thousand mile stare at the blank document in front of you. A bullshit paper due in exactly 12 hours. Yes, you left it until the final stretch, and yes, it's 10k words. Very doable. You're not fucked. Nope.

You blame it on the banging from next door. Paper thin walls; obscene noises. Cries of Yes Miguel and Just like that, daddy have been plaguing you for almost an hour. His stamina must be superhuman, the way the woman in his bed has been howling. Howling may seem extreme, but she sounds like a dying cat: cock drunk and babbling over Miguel O'Hara? 

Your new roommate had been nice enough. Quiet, unassuming, and seemed more than absorbed in his schoolwork. So you didn't expect him to unashamedly fuck the girl he's been tutoring for the past week. It all clicks. The "perfect roommate" turned out to have one teeny tiny little flaw: loud, obnoxious sex, well into the early hours of the morning. 

On autopilot, you're clicking through tabs on your bed. Perhaps you're a prude, but the sex noises are abrasive, excessive, to the point of parody. Persistent, Miguel's low voice reverberates in the walls of your bedroom; making heat pool at the base of your stomach. 

"You want it, hermosa? Tell me…. such a pretty girl… like that?" It's muffled, but his voice is unmistakable. Low, greedy, heavy with want. God, the last time someone's spoken to you like that was… 

You shake your head free of cobwebs. No. You're not rewarding him. You can't . Your roommate is shameless, and inconsiderate, and really fucking annoying . 

The smacking noises increase, coupled with banging on his side of the wall. Resolute, your face hardens. From where you perch on your bed, you slam the wall with the side of your fist. 

"O'Hara! Keep it the fuck down!" 

~~~

He's a biochem major, up to his ass in assignments and he still has time for societies, internships and tutoring. 

The only times he'd be in the apartment really was an impromptu session, and you didn't notice at first, but it became more obvious as the semester went on.

As a so-called tutor, he only seemed to pick the prettiest girls - they would twirl their hair on your kitchen counter and bat their pretty lashes at him when they didn't understand. Favours for a couple of friends, is his only response when you ask. 

It felt like you'd open the door to a new girl every week and you are baffled. Donned in makeup and short skirts, they'd waddle in asking for Miggy, or drop off half-finished assignments whilst craning their head through, trying to catch a glimpse of him. 

The absurdity would make you laugh if it wasn't affecting your sleep. 

Not that he's not absolutely gorgeous, but he's so quiet you would never have thought he had it in him: to have a revolving door of women lining up to lay underneath him. 

This time, her name is Sarah: pretty little thing in Miguel's Advanced Math class.  She perches on a stool, wearing a tight dress that is wholly not appropriate for a tutoring session. She's one of his regulars, if you can call it that, and has been failing for at least 2 semesters. You flash her a smile as you pad through the kitchen, searching the cupboards for a snack. God, she is gorgeous; dolled up for another long session with Miguel, no doubt.

"Where's he gone?" She asks politely. 

You shrug. "I couldn't tell you, sorry."

"It's okay… I'm just a bit stuck." You almost snort and catch yourself. For some reason, you didn't think they actually did any work, merely a pretense for the… cardio later on in the day. 

You glance at her sheet of paper, scribbles in purple pen with large swathes crossed out. Leaning over, you scan the page.

"Right here." You point and she follows with a manicured finger. "You fucked up with this integral and I think… yeah, I think that messes with the whole thing."

Her eyes light up as she follows you, explaining with a piece of cookie hanging out of your mouth. She's definitely smart, just a few little mistakes here and there that you're happy to point out. Thanking you fervently, she rushes to correct it. 

"Ah, it's no problem. I get mixed up with it too." You smile and notice Miguel by the doorway, watching with a strange look in his face. You roll your eyes as you walk past. What a fucking weirdo. 

"Thought I was the tutor?" He croons.

You raise an eyebrow, voice low as Sarah is engrossed in her work. "...I don't want to fuck her, Miggy , if that's what you're worried about."

A little cruelly you push past him, shoulders clashing against one another. Is he smiling ? For now, you blame your perpetual tiredness when you think you catch the hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

~~~

You're a light sleeper, and it all makes for a tired, delirious combo. You sleepwalk through the day, scramble to finish assignments and whilst it's not all O'Hara's fault, you can't help but blame him for a lot of it. 

After you successfully get through one long week, you decide to celebrate. That means a couple hours of mindless hedonism: your favourite movie, greasy food…. and your trusty dildo. Not at the same time, of course. 

Miguel's not home, and he's not tearing down the walls with some other girl, for once, so you decide to treat yourself. 

You've been going through a dry patch, and you'd hate to admit it, but he does sound good through the thin drywall. 

It was a joke gift; given to you by a friend for your birthday. An obnoxiously purple dildo with a suction cup at its base. Aptly named Hugh, due to its - ahem - large stature. Standing tall at 7 or 8 inches, far bigger or thicker than any partner you've taken in the past. Sitting around a small diner booth with your friends and opening the bag to reveal him, had been quite the experience, for sure. 

It wasn't your fault you had gone through a dry spell in the past few months. With work, with school, with relationship issues, you hadn't had the time or energy to sleep around. Not that you were desperate for drunk, lackluster sex, followed by an awkward dance of ubers and shitty coffee in the morning. Like many, you preferred to do it yourself. 

Laptop open, you ease yourself onto the toy, already slick with lube. Prepping yourself with your fingers had been quite the task, tabs open to something on a lewd website. It's cheesy, but you didn't really like the bright lights and plastic of usual porn. The moans felt too fake, the sex devoid of any real passion. So you found a couple of independent creators; couples, mostly; carnal fucking with fervour only borne from real love . It's embarrassing to admit it, but your favourite parts are the little kisses and touches in between, or light laughter after a rough session. As if to say: it's okay and I'm still here. 

On your screen now is a longtime favourite video, a broad man bullying his fat cock into his partner. You can't help but think he looks like Miguel, not as pretty but tan with strapping shoulders, and large hands that wrap around the neck of the girl in the video. 

" F-Fuck," You breathe, sinking down onto your toy. You bet Miguel's palm on your throat would be deliciously rough, and you imagine how he'd fuck the brat out of you like the man on your screen. 

What hadn't occurred to you, however, was that the thin walls went both ways. Whilst you were quieter than many of the girls Miguel brought home, you were fairly shameless with the moans and curses that fell from your lips. Headphones on, you were blissfully unaware that Miguel had slipped into the apartment some time ago. The slap of your thighs to the floor, the desperate whine as you roll your hips over the toy - he can hear it all. 

Miguel has a conscience, so he does feel some amount of shame when he slips a hand down his trousers and presses an ear to your shared wall. He closes his eyes and bites down lusty groans, fisting his cock to your pretty noises. Noises he's been wanting to hear from you for months, now, imagining it was you underneath him instead of his usual partners. 

He times it just right, squeezing around his tip in time with the steady slap just beyond the wall. Are you fucking yourself? On your knees, hands flat on the floor, churning up your insides with a toy… or maybe ass up, dildo attached to something…? He almost cums with that mental image, wondering what you'd look like on your knees for him. Is the dildo as big as him? He knows you, knows you'd want it to hurt - for his cock to stretch out your pretty pussy when he cums deep inside you. 

All things he thinks about with a hand around his cock, and he's already close. But he wants to cum with you, listening intently for the signs. 

" Fuck," Your voice comes out muffled, but it makes him buck up into his fist all the same. " Need it… oh God, I-" 

He speeds up, wondering what it would be like to have your thighs shake underneath him, what it would take to have you babbling and begging for more. How would he break you? Maybe on his cock, where he'd watch you squirm as you take his length. Or on your knees, choking around him and licking up his cum. Or, God, thighs wrapped around his head, riding out your high with his mouth sealed on your clit, crying for him slow down, for him to-

" H-Harder, Miguel, please." 

He releases, sudden and intense, spilling white ropes into his boxers. 

" Fuck, Miguel…"

He fucks his fist through it, overstimulated from the way you say his name. It feels like the only way it should be said; spilling from your mouth, haphazard and desperate. Like honey, like treacle; sweet things he didn't know he had the capacity for. He lets that feeling wash over him, panting, bringing his forehead to rest on cool wall. 

~~~

He's hot. He's smart. He's a whore.

A total blindspot for you, and no matter how much you can't stand him; you still find yourself stealing glances whenever he's home. 

And he does seem to be home a lot more, often choosing to study on the dining table rather than his room. It's like he does it on purpose, using the warmer weather as an excuse to wear tiny tank tops and loose gray sweats - showing off the muscles of his broad back and arms perfectly.

Funnily enough, when he's not around those girls, he's bearable - seems to have grown a couple of brain cells in those short few days between sessions. 

You laugh and joke, sometimes, and he surprises you by suggesting a movie one quiet night. 

He offers you his sweater to snuggle into, you eat your weight in greasy takeout, and your roommate seems like an actually decent guy?? 

You had fallen into an easy routine: O'Hara leaves a flask of coffee for you to snatch up in the morning, hair damp from the shower and all, and you meet him with netflix and instant noodles in the evening. A push and pull that works in the little space - much smoother than your rocky beginnings.

After a truly shitty day, you come home to a quiet apartment. Almost sleeping through an exam, forgetting lunch, missing the bus home, and having to trek back through pouring rain in a thin coat. Everything that could go wrong, did, and you are left with the pieces. You trudge through the living room into the kitchen, the wet squelch of socks on laminate floor haunting every step. Shedding your limp outerwear, you lay the contents of your backpack onto the kitchen counter: clumps of loose paper, the damp leftovers of a textbook, bleeding ink. Your main concern, however, is your laptop slick with rain water. 

With baited breath, you put it on the slab, and press the power button. A click, a stuttering whir, and the screen flickers on. Then, just as strained, it putters off. Dead. Completely dead. Your legs almost give out, and you lean on the counter to steady yourself. Half of your life was there; including the final project that would make up a good chunk of your grade. It takes you everything not to collapse onto the floor right then and there. 

"How was it?" You hear the click of a door and Miguel calls out from the hallway. 

You wince."...F-Fine?" 

You hear footsteps, as he gets closer. "Are you asking or telling me?" 

You clear your throat, desperately trying to keep your voice steady. "Fine. It was fine. I'm just… it was fine."

Back still turned, you fumble around with the wet contents of your bag, hoping he doesn't notice. 

"Long day?" He says warmly, head poking into the kitchen. Haphazardly, you spare him a glance from behind your shoulder. He's dressed in a sweater that fits snug around his chest, rolled up to expose his forearms, and loose sweats. In his hands, he drinks from a cheesy mug - your mug, donning a stupid pun. He looks warm. Cosy. Domestic. For some, reason it makes your heart sink even further. 

Long day? "Something like that." You manage to squeeze out. There's a pregnant pause as he comes closer. Rummaging blindly through a cupboard, you try to hide behind its door. If he sees you like this, now, you don't know if you'll be able to hold it together. 

You close the door, and all of a sudden he's there, mug in hand. 

" Fuck, man- " It makes you jump, as he squints and takes a sip of his coffee. 

"You look… wet." 

"That's because it rained, Miguel." Snapping at him, your tone is biting. You're tired, stressed and in desperate need of a cry, but he is unrelenting in his gaze. 

"Are you ok?" He asks, unfazed. 

There's a lump in your throat and all you can do is nod with a tight expression.  His eyes flicker towards the counter and you shuffle, trying to cover up the mess. And then you watch it happen; initial confusion, a flash of realisation, and then worry; all in the space of a couple seconds. 

Gently, he pulls you aside to inspect the damage. "Mierda. This is pretty bad. You sure you're ok?" 

He's got a hand on your arm now,  The dam breaks and you crumple into tears in the kitchen floor. Of course, he comes with you, rubbing your back as you blubber through the details. 

" Nothing's going right for me… and I've got my final project on there… I'm barely keeping up as it is…" All he does is nod, face tight with something you can't quite name. It must seem pathetic to him, you think, shamelessly crying on the kitchen floor, complaining to your poor roommate. He can't leave you like this, because he's a decent person - but internally, he must think you're going crazy. 

It helps, having him there: a steady presence by your side. Slowly but surely, your tears subside. 

"You could've asked me to pick you up." He hands you some tissues off the counter, and watches as you mop up the tears. "I would've come, if you called."

"I didn't… I didn't think we were…" You search for the right word. 

"...friends?" He offers, with a small smile. "You think I let just anyone steal my sweaters?" 

"First of all," It makes you laugh, despite yourself. "You offered. And second, I've seen what you do with your friends, and I don't know if I have the energy for it."

"Ouch." Bashful, he rubs his chest like it aches. He sits a little close to you, knocking your shoulders with his own. "I know this girl who's crazy good with computers. I could ask her to take a look, if you'd like? Might not be able to save it but maybe we could recover the files?"

"...I'd like that, to be honest."

"Muy bien ." He leaps to his feet, palm stretched towards you to help you up. "I'll run you a warm bath or something. You're creating a puddle and it's going to ruin my floor."

"Our floor, asshole. I pay rent here, too." 

~~~

You find that you enjoy being around him, and he feels the same. 

You can't help but compare him to your shitty ex who you were planning to move in with: and even with his quirks, Miguel is better in every way. 

There is harmony in your household, for a while, and you almost look forward to coming home to him after class. Almost. 

It doesn't last long, because of course it doesn't. You'd thought you'd come to a tentative ceasefire, able to casually rib and joke with each other - takeout and B-roll movies aside. He leaves you leftovers from food he makes, you turn down your music when he's studying, and he even woke you up the other day when you had slept through your alarm.

Beyond the wall, his music is loud: a playlist you recognise as the one he puts on to (unsuccessfully) mask the noise of his usual late night adventures. Cheesy love ballads, heady RnB that leaks into your own room. You'd rather die than admit his taste in music isn't horrible, but it usually means a long, long night for everyone around. With finals around the corner, there's no way you can let this stand. 

What kind of person does that? Lull you into a false sense of security with Snakes on a Plane and pepperoni pizza? 

Absorbed in your own work, you hadn't even realised he had someone over; let alone was gearing up for obnoxious sex. You'd bang on the wall, but you feel like you guys are past that: crossed a threshold of intimacy that means you can shout at him up close and personal. 

So you stomp over to the hallway, banging at the door to his room. In the short trip there, you've worked yourself into a frenzy. How many times have you told him to keep it down? That it was rude and inconsiderate to flaunt his sex life in your face; to fuck other women so loud you were practically involved? There was something about the little smile he would give you afterwards, when you catch him shepherding his latest out the door in the morning - like he gets off on it, enjoys it, when you react. Even when you think you're over it, he still manages to drive you absolutely crazy. 

“Miguel? Open the fuck up!"

You're still fuming when the door opens with a click, and Miguel appears in the sliver of the doorway. He opens it so that his frame is half swallowed by the door, top half peeking through with a lazy hand in his hair. And of his top half, he's bare from the waist up, black band of his boxers sitting low on his v-line and loose sweats. 

All the wind is knocked from your sails, and you lose your train of thought. 

"Yeah?" 

"I…" You clear your throat. "I don't care who you fuck, but when I'm doing work-" 

"-I'm not." He chuckles. "There's no one here, hermosa. Just me. And you, I guess…"

There's something about the way he says it, lazily, as if it's his first time saying those words - wrapping his tongue around your name to see how it fits. If it fits, how it tastes. His relaxed posture, the way his hair falls…

"You're high." Your brow shoots up. "... you're high!" 

With a finger pressed to his lips, he grabs your hand and pulls you into his room, eyes darting around the hallway. 

"Shhh! You can't-" Now, he gets close, whispering like he's saying something he shouldn't. "You can't tell anyone. "

"I won't." You breathe. His face is serious at first, and then you're both giggling. You've never seen him so carefree, and it's nice to see Miguel walking around without the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He's still holding your hand, pressed close, and you see him drag his eyes up and down your figure. "You want do something you'll regret…?"

"...I've got a 9am, tomorrow, I really-" 

"-shouldn't?" He finishes, dragging his hand up your bare arm, pupils blown. He gets up to your shoulders, tucking your hair behind your ear. It's sinful, the way his touch is gentle but gaze heavy - violent in the way he practically eyefucks you. You feel bare, in little sleep shorts and a t-shirt.

He steps back, lounging on his bed, and makes for a half finished blunt by the adjacent window sill. Sighing, you sit by him, sinking into the mattress. He pats you closer, dangerously close, and you comply. One arm curled by your waist, the other brings the blunt up close and you wrap your lips around it. When Miguel brings a lighter to the blunt, you lean into it, knuckles brushing your lips. 

You take a drag, long, heavy, eyes closed. And when they open, you're met with his own. Maybe it's the weed, maybe it's the heady atmosphere, but you swear his eyes are low and deep with lust.

"Good girl." He rumbles, cupping your chin and tracing a thumb to your lips. He separates, bringin the blunt to his own lips before leaning back to pass it to you. As quick as he gets close, he pulls away; leaning back into the expanse of his large bed. And he looks good, head drawn back and the curve of his tan arm drawn upwards. Tufts of hair from his chest, the trail that leads down suggestively - and without inhibition, you basically drool over him. God, there it is. You feel it kick in and let it wash over you. 

His music, long forgotten, blends into your downy haze. You want to sit in his lap, rest your head on his chest. You get it now: if this is the view all those women he tutors get to have, then you finally understand. 

"Come closer, hermosa ." You barely register the nickname, only focused on the way he says it, the delicious way it rolls off of his tongue. You nod, and shuffle closer. His siren song sounds sweeter, somehow, up close. 

You pass the blunt between you both, and watch it dwindle to the last dregs. Lying down next to him, he clutches your hand and takes the butt between his fingers, letting its flames die as you watch. You giggle and his gaze softens.

"I didn't expect this from you." You look up to see an upside-down Miguel, hiding a smile. 

"Expect what?" He drags himself downwards, to rest his head by your side. 

"All…" You gesture vaguely. "This. Don't even think I've been in your room for this long, before."

His room looks exactly how you'd expect it: tidy and modest, a row of trophies neatly lined up on a shelf, a telescope pointing out towards a window. There are posters by his bed; science related, mostly. You tilt your head in the direction of one of them.

"Is this what they see?" You mumble to no one in particular. 

He manages to catch it, sluggish in his response. "...Is this what who sees?" 

"All the girls you fuck." It tumbles your of your mouth, before you can help it. 

He tilts his head too, looking at the poster and you watch the sharp lines of his jaw besides you. Even at this angle, he's so pretty. 

"Huh. I guess they do." 

"It's not very romantic, is it?" You blink, oblivious. Your question is met with a noncommittal shrug. "What was her name last time? Cassie, Clara-something…"

"Katie." He hums. 

"Katie." Ignoring the twinge of disappointment at his quick response, you hope it's the weed and not jealousy that made you pretend to forget her name. 

You sit up on your haunches, tracing the valleys and mountains of his bare chest with a leisurely finger. You try not to notice the way he shivers at your touch. 

"I could hear everything. Every, 'Yes daddy'," You feign a moan by curling your lips into an O-shape. You bring your other hand to your hair, head tilted back with exaggerated movement. "And 'right there, Miggy, right fuckin' there' ." 

Technically, you're making fun of him and laughing, expecting him to follow. But he doesn't, head back and eyes boring into you - only bringing a hand to press yours at his chest. 

"Thin walls, Miguel." You clear your throat, sensing a shift in the atmosphere. Too far, probably. "Sorry, shit. I didn't mean-" 

"I hear you too." He says softly. "I heard you, the other day."

Head filled with cotton, it takes a moment for his words to really click. So he elaborates, lacing his fingers with your own. 

"Fucking yourself, hermosa ." He says it lazily, like the vulgarity of the act doesn't register.

Your eyes widen in horror. How much exactly did he hear?

"...and I heard you say my name." 

"It was…. i-it wasn't like that-" Fuck. You can't think straight as it is: and his voice is low and silky, rubbing circles on your hand close to his chest. Even now, he oozes confidence, the steady thump-thump of his heart giving away nothing. 

"Hmmm? Then what is it like?" You blink at him, unable to answer. "You're a hypocrite. You complain about all these women I supposedly fuck, but then-" 

He pulls you closer, so that your lips almost touch his. "-you lock yourself in your room, touching yourself and thinking about your poor roommate. What am I meant to do with you?"

A pause, and in your daze, you can't breathe. For all your theatrics, it's too easy for him - to prod and tease, and for you to chase after him. You move to kiss him, but he grabs your chin at the last second. "Not quite. I want to hear you say it."

"Fuck- " You crumple, hiding your head in the crook of his shoulder. Even in your haze, the nerves bubble up from the base of your stomach. "Fuck me, please , Miguel."

He places a hand on your thigh, leading you to straddle his middle, other hand wrapped around your waist. He grinds your lower half into his, leaning up to bring your lips together. 

He tastes sweet, greedily lapping up your moans in the clash. You're not thinking, not really, lost in the heat of his body, desperate and eager when you kiss. To contrast, Miguel cups your chin, pulling you away for air whenever you sink too deep. Somehow, he still manages to look smug, taunting you with a flash of his little fangs whenever you separate. If you weren't feeling the effects of that blunt, you may have had the means to be embarrassed at how much you want him - needily grinding against him and pawing at his chest. 

It's too slow, too leisurely, like a punishment; and he refuses to give you what he knows you want. Your whines betray you when he finally slips a hand down your shorts. 

"¿Paciencia, hmm?" He grabs a handful of your ass, clothed cock catching on your clit. It rips another moan from you, which he happily swallows with another kiss. "Patience, princesa."

You hump against one another like teenagers, your hands planted by his head for purchase. Hips moving of their own accord, you chase the relief Miguel provides: with his hands kneading your ass, length catching at your clit, and teeth nipping at your bare neck. 

He licks a stripe up your collarbone, soothing the blossoming hickeys with a hum. 

Fuck, how can he be so casual ? You don't know if it's the weed or something else, but he is in his element, hand dipping down your back to graze at your pussy from behind. He hisses when he realises how wet you are, swiping his fingers down your slit and taking them out to pop them in his mouth. 

Now, flushed and face hot with embarrassment, you look up at him with big doe eyes. It makes Miguel feel guilty for stopping you so close to your climax. Beautiful : lower lip hooked under your teeth, plump and swollen and kissable. He'll make up for it later: a promise he whispers into skin. 

"You're soaked." He cups your cheek to press a kiss to your forehead, and all you can do is whine. His gaze dips down, to the swell of your tits in that thin shirt.. 

"What did you think about when you touched yourself?" It's soft, said in the warm press of your bodies; hook-shaped and hazy and you fit like you were made for one another. The thought lingers, plants a dangerous seed that makes you forget that the man underneath you is your roommate : unrepentant whore, Miguel O'Hara. 

"You." You've seen it first hand, he eats hearts for breakfast; and yours is on a platter for him to devour.

He laughs, deep and rumbling, hands resting on your waist. "I know that, baby. You don't have fantasies? Fuck yourself to the thought of someone touchin' you just right?"

Not just someone, him, you think. Your voice dies in your throat at the way he looks at you. "Just… n-nothing really-"

He hums, grinding your hips onto his. "Speechless, I can't believe it. Is this what I need to do to get some fucking peace around here?" 

You roll your eyes, "Don't be a dick, Miguel. When I shout, it's because you deserve it."

"...there it is." Eyes shining, his face stretches into a shit-eating grin. Wide, unabashed, unambiguous. "You back with the living, sweetheart?" 

It makes you laugh, even though you hate to give him the satisfaction. 

"What do you want?" He kneads your thigh and pleasure pools at the base of your stomach. 

You mumble something begrudgingly.

"Hmm? Can't hear you, baby."

Louder, now. "...want to sit on your face, Miguel." 

Lowly, he groans, shaking his head. "Mierda… of course you do."

Expertly, he helps you take your shorts off, dragging the thin material down your thighs. You clambers upwards, wrapping them around his shoulders, watching intently as he kneads the soft skin. It's tentative, at first, and you place your hands on the headboard to perch just above his mouth. 

He licks, diving in with the flat of his tongue: a long upwards stroke that ends with him sucking your clit. Moaning, your hips jump and he chases your pretty pussy up, large palms pushing you back down. He concentrates on your bundle of nerves, lips around your clit like a man on a mission.

And, God, does it feel good; he watches and learns from your every movement, committing your body to memory. His moans vibrate deliciously, tension building at that spot faster than your mind can register it. Then, you clench around nothing, gushing into his mouth whilst he eases you through it. The noises he makes are obscene; one leg off the bed and a hand snaked under his boxers. He's getting off on it; watching you crumple and sob around his tongue. 

And when you begin to move off, thighs sore, he doesn't relent, sealing his mouth on your pretty little hole. 

"Miguel.. fuck-" After your first orgasm, it surprises you when he continues, tongue fucking you with fervour. He presses you close, impossibly close, and your body fights against his ministrations. Heat, everywhere, and it's too much. The haze of the blunt begins to wear off and you are left with biting clarity. You want more of him, deeper; drunk off of just his tongue. 

You card your hands in his hair, and he moans: deep and wanton, with his eyes fluttering shut. He wants to look, to watch you when you cum on his tongue for a second time. Back arched, the curve of your tits peeking through a tiny top, fucking yourself on his face. He wants it hard , wants you to take control and use him to get off. 

"Right there, fuck… "

Like you can hear his thoughts, you press yourself down harder, riding the deep ridge of his nose for relief. Miguel complies and leans into it. He eats you out like a man starved and the carnality of it all brings you to a second peak. You cum once again, legs wrapped tight around his face. Head back, he laps it up readily. 

You separate with a wet pop, and Miguel looks blissful : fucked out and panting, wiping the slick off of his face with a forearm. Exhausted, you lean back onto the mattress beside him. 

"That was…" He searches for the right word, and it's your turn to finish for him. 

"... good. " Scarily good. So good you won't be able to see him around the apartment without remembering what he looks like trapped between your thighs. 

Gently, he turns to cup your cheek and bring your lips to his. It starts off sweet and deepens rapidly, making that thread at the pit of your stomach tighten, again. He grabs your thigh, bringing it closer, and you feel his length poking your stomach. Fuck. 

"You haven't…?" Your hand makes for his trousers, and he stops you. "I want to, Miguel. Want you to feel good too."

His head sinks into your shoulder. "I know, baby, I know. Not like this. Not yet."

You nod, still wrapped up in his arms. You haven't even fucked, and it feels more intimate than it should. 

"You've got a 9am tomorrow." He smiles with a hand underneath his head. 

"I've got a 9am tomorrow," You repeat, sighing. "...and my life is falling apart. I'm failing half of my classes as it is."

He turns to you, lazily. 

"I could tutor you, if you'd like."

…

"That's not fucking funny, Miguel."

_

_

_

Miguel taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns @ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings

[andy-wandy]

Bite the Hand (Chapter 1)

pairing: spider-woman!oc x miguel o’hara 

summary: lorena's whole world was taken away from her in the blink of an eye, after she accidentally broke a canon event. lucky for her though, she was able to find a portal watch in her dimension and used it to get out before she glitched out of existence. unfortunately though, running from dimension to dimension, she's been named as an anomaly by the spider society. now, she's constantly on the run from them, their leader in particular. when she eventually gets caught though, she's recruited onto a mission to catch another anomaly who might be from her past. to her dismay though, her partner on this mission is her very captor. will she be able to stop arguing with him for long enough to get the job done?

info: enemies to lovers, maybe a slow burn depending on chapter count, oc is 24 and miguel is 27, both oc and miguel are super sad lmao, they're also both super violent so, they also hate each other what a slay, in regards to my oc you can read her character sheet right here

warnings: there might be spoilers for atsv in this so watch the movie before reading this, emetophobia, violence, blood mention, fangs

word count: 2.5k 

notes: i'm super excited to start this series!!! i'll also be posting a copy of this on ao3 cause i wanna start sharing my work there too so i'll put the link up here when i post it. also if you see me use "you" instead of "she/her" just ignore it i probably missed it while proofreading and it's instinct lol

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The stuffy air from inside the bag her head was under nearly suffocated her before she could wake up. Her breath was hot and shoved towards her face by the bag, causing her to sweat a little. As she slowly woke up, she found herself unable to move her arms and legs, bound to the chair by her wrists and ankles. She tried to wriggle herself around, the rope bounded so tightly she could feel herself losing circulation, but it was in vain as she quickly felt a striking force against her ribs as a result. Lorena in her chair was knocked to the ground. The bag was removed from her head, exposing her to the harsh, fluorescent lights in the room.

Another kick was sent to her stomach, knocking a nasty cough out of her. All she could see right now as her eyes were still adjusting was the two feet standing in front of her face. She spat some of the blood forming in her mouth onto the freshly cleaned black shoes. She winced as her head was pulled up to face the man in front of her by her hair. His cold, dead, blue eyes shot daggers into her fiery brown irises. “You’ve turned into quite the problem, haven’t you child?” the old man spat at you, his breath stinging your eyes. “Well maybe you should be nicer to your guests,” Lorena panted out, still recovering from the two kicks. The man nodded to someone behind her and her chair was pulled up to a sitting position.

Lorena grunted as her head was yanked back by whoever was behind her. “Come on Armando, I said I would get you the money, and I am! My guy’s just taking a little longer than usual,” she nervously blurted out, seeing Armando further up in the room by a desk of torture weapons. She wasn’t going to give him the money any time soon, and he knew it. She barely had any money to buy herself food.

Lorena had been stuck on Earth-523, her safe zone, for the past week. Normally, she would be out within a day or two. But with her portal watch broken, she had no way to get out. And she had been glitching a lot recently. Glitching bad. She had asked Armando, a black market dealer she had previous history with, for parts to fix the watch. She had forgotten about how much money she owed him though, and when she failed to have it with her when she asked for the favor, she was knocked out and taken to whatever bunker she was currently in.

She had honestly gotten tired of hopping between so many worlds like this. She had been doing it for the past couple of months and it was draining her. She missed the stability of a home. Her home. Earth-2497. But she couldn’t go back now. It was physically impossible. She watched everything she knew and loved glitch out of existence while she just ran through her portal. Instead of dying a noble death alongside her people, she just ran away. Like a coward. Now she was being chased for it. That was another reason she needed her watch fixed.

Their appearances were becoming more and more frequent. People who looked just like her. She could sense her connection to them. One of them, a woman riding a motorcycle and big yellow sunglasses, said that she was. Lorena had experienced similar things to the others. Like the death of her tio. And then the death of her boyfriend. Her struggles were the same as theirs. But she wasn’t supposed to be here anymore. She explained that Lorena “broke the canon”, whatever that meant.

A man with multiple mechanical arms, almost like an octopus, had come through an orange portal and began wreaking havoc on New York City. Lorena had stopped him, but too early apparently, according to the woman. The man was supposed to kill Captain Stacy, the father of her best friend. But since he hadn’t been killed, she had accidentally ripped a hole in the space time continuum, or something, consuming and ripping apart her entire universe. She was supposed to die with it. But she hadn’t. She ran away. Now she was considered an anomaly. The woman described that most anomalies were sent back to their worlds after they were captured. But Lorena had no world to go back to.

“So what’ll you do to me then?” Lorena asked the woman.

“.....I’m not sure.”

That was enough to convince Lorena to start running. The different Spider-Men would pop up about every week or so. But the gap had been closed to around every day now. She had gotten a break this past week while her watch was broken, what she assumed to be some kind of break from the universe or something. But she knew it was only a matter of time until they found her again. Until he found her again.

Lorena had only been chased by him twice before. But both of those times, she had only escaped by a narrow margin. He looked significantly different from the other variants, sporting a mainly blue suit with a weird red symbol in the middle that warped around to his back. He was tall also. Really tall, with huge, broad shoulders. Lorena couldn’t help but wonder what he looked like under his mask, having not seen his face before. But no matter how much she would probably ask him out if they met under different circumstances, Lorena was terrified of him. She had left both chase sequences with him with enormous gashes on her from his sharp talons. She honestly wondered if he was actually human.

She was brought back to reality when she saw Armando walking back from the table. In his hand was a metal rod, the end of it a scorching orange. Lorena scrambled around in her seat, her head still yanked back. Fuck this is bad, she thought to herself. An idea suddenly snapped into her head.

She rarely used them, as they normally ended up harming her too in the end, but she would rather be burned by her own acid webs once than by this hot plate repeatedly. She repositioned her wrists, pointing one of them out. She braced for the pain. Suddenly, four strings of a radioactive green acid web shot out of her wrist, breaking the rope around her hands and wrapping around the thigh of the man holding back her head. He screamed out in pain as the acid melted through his leg. With him and Armando distracted, Lorena quickly broke out of her ankle restraints, ripped the hot branding stick out of Armando’s hands, and pushed it deep into his face. He let out an inhuman scream and quickly passed out from the pain. She then used the stick and smacked the metal against his partner’s head, knocking him out too.

Lorena stood to catch her breath for a second, bracing her side with her right arm from the pain in her ribs. She hoped they were just bruised, and not cracked. She then took off the gloves from her suit to examine the fresh acid burns on her left wrist. She had developed a bit of resistance from the pain, having had to use them so much recently since she’s been without web fluid for months now, but it still stung a bit and left quite a mark on her skin.

She stripped Armando of his long sleeve t-shirt and sweatpants to cover up her suit, and shoved her mask into the pockets of the pants, before walking outside the door into the night.

She was almost immediately soaked to the touch as the rain poured down on the city. The large t-shirt, absorbing all the water falling onto Lorena, only put extra weight onto her damaged ribs. She struggled to walk through the street as she continued to cough blood into her hand. Fuck, this was bad. Maybe her injury was worse than she thought.

Things only got worse when she suddenly felt her heartbeat speed up. Goosebumps flooded over her body and she was nearly paralyzed from fear. Her spider-sense was kicking in. Jesus, what is it now. She looked into the alleyway next to her to see if that's where the source of her fear was coming from. Her suspicions were confirmed correct when she saw an orange glow interrupt the darkness in the back of the alley, and a red spike ripping through it. She nearly left her heart behind as she immediately started to bolt down the sidewalk.

Great, just my fucking luck, she thought to herself as she ran. The one day I’m in horrible shape to fight is the one day he shows up to get me. Lorena didn’t need to look behind her to know the man was already bounding after her. She didn’t have any web fluid, and her acid webs would cut through the poles, so she was given the disadvantage on the ground this time. She threw her mask on her face from her pocket, that way so in case she did get caught, she could at least keep the dignity of her identity to herself. Her running was desperate and sloppy, her red hair slipping out from the back of her mask and almost slipping in a puddle when she turned a sharp corner.

She could feel her heart rising into her chest and her ribs cried out to her in pain, begging her to just stop and accept her fate. But she wouldn’t go down like this. She couldn’t. She needed to keep going, no matter how much blood she was coughing up while running. She could hear his feet splashing in the puddles behind her as she made her getaway. He was getting closer. She wasn’t fast enough. She needed to do something if she wasn’t going to get caught. And fast.

Desperate for a way out, she ripped her right glove off of her hand and jumped around to shoot an acid web at her chaser. The split second she could see him while turned around frightened her beyond belief. The man was chasing her on all fours, like some kind of wild dog. His claws dug deep into the concrete floor for extra traction from the rain. Yeah, there’s no way this guy was human. She shot the web out of her wrist, burning her more than usual, and aimed for his face. If she was going to shoot for him now, she needed to try to go for the kill. Before the web was even fully out of her hand, she was back facing forward and running. Fuck, did that mess up my aim? She didn’t have time to think about that now. She didn’t even look back to check. She just kept running.

The low scream from him at least meant that she hit him, which was enough for her right now. Her high came crashing down though when she turned another corner. Suddenly, a shattering agony rattled throughout her body as she became a jumble of neon colored parallelograms, all of her atoms splitting apart in a split second. She quickly fell to the floor, shaking in pain. But she still had to fight. Lorena used her arms to crawl into an alleyway into the darkness. If she couldn’t outrun him, she could at least try to hide. She lowered her head to the ground though when she heard puddles lightly splashing behind her. Footsteps. She didn’t hit him hard enough. It was all in vain.

She could hear his pants above her, as she turned her head around to see him standing right above her body, like he was admiring his achievement or something. She still tried to crawl away though. She didn’t matter if it made her look stupid. She still had to try.

Lorena stopped though when she felt him web her hand to the ground though, too tired to keep going. The bright red, glowing web illuminated the darkness of the alley. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him reaching his massive hand down to her. He roughly ripped her mask off her face, exposing her to the outside world. She began to cough again, so much this time, that she ended up losing her limited breakfast. The puke sits next to the man's feet, more blood than partially digested food. He stared at her in disgust. Then he finally speaks. The first time he has to her ever.

“This is the one who’s been causing us so much trouble?” he said, as if it was supposed to be more of a genuine question than an insult. His voice was beautiful. A rich, low, dark tone that rolled off of his tongue smoothly. She could see a small avatar pop up next to his shoulder, illuminated in a yellow aura. “Yup, this is her. Lorena Reyes, Spider-Woman from Earth-2497,” the woman avatar responded. “Huh,” he said, crouching down next to her head. “Thought she'd put up more of a fight.” That one was an insult. “Maybe you just caught me on a bad day,” she croaked out. He looked at the puke next to her. “I can see that.” Lorena started to glitch again, letting out sparse pants once her atoms stopped separately. The man sighed. “Let's just get this over with.”

What he did next took Lorena by surprise. He flung his strong leg over to the opposite side of her body and lifted his mask up to just over his nose, still concealing his eyes from her view. Lorena stared at him confused, too tired and in pain to do anything right now. What she could see from his face was gorgeous. His perfect nose, the slight pout in his plump lips, and his rich skin tone. He placed his hands on her head, one holding the nape of her neck, and the other pushing her head back.

Then they came out. His fangs. A slight fear washed over her body when she saw them. Was this vampire man about to kill her? Then he sunk them into the skin of her neck. She flinched slightly. What on earth was he doing? More fear entered her when she found she was quickly losing feeling in her feet. It slowly moved up her body. Then her legs. Then her hands. Then her arms. Her nerves being attacked by some kind of paralytic venom. It was most likely coming from his fangs. She felt slightly lucky that she still had feeling in her neck though, especially when he removed his fangs from her neck, and used his textured tongue to clean up the blood. It was warm and comforting to her. Then her neck lost its feeling. Lorena was quickly grateful for the venom when she found herself glitching again, but not feeling any pain from it.

She could feel herself passing out next. As consciousness left her body, the last thing she saw was the man lifting up from her neck and wiping her blood off from his mouth.

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a/n: thanks for making it this far!!! lmk if you want to be on the tag list for future parts

[andy-wandy]

to leave the warmest bed i've ever known (part 2)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

pairing: spider-woman!reader x miguel o’hara 

summary: life on the run is not for the weak. you're reminded of this once you run into someone you haven't seen in a while

warnings: a lot of angst (there'll be fluff and smut soon i swear i just feel like writing angst right now lmao), HUGE ATSV SPOILERS DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THIS MOVIE, mentions and descriptions of blood and injuries, this is so against canon its insane

word count: 2.2k

notes: ok so i changed my mind, miguel and the reader arent gonna make up just yet🤭. trust me when they do it'll be worth it lmao. im gonna need everyone to suspend their belief for the next chapters cause im kind of just making up the plot to beyond the spider-verse at this point for this silly little fic so just go with it

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God, this was very quickly turning out to be a very bad decision. The movies made being on the run seem a lot easier than this. What they had failed to include was how easily it was to get ambushed by Spider-Society members while hopping between the dimensions looking for Miles. Your little group basically had to hop through a bunch of different dimensions within a week and look for him there, then leave before HQ managed to track you guys down. You’re not sure how much time has passed since you left. Maybe a few weeks. Maybe a few months. The passage of time was pretty weird when you were constantly hopping through the fabric of space and time. All you knew is that your eyes had naturally dulled out the neon orange light that shined from the portals you were constantly jumping through. Luckily, none of your team had been caught yet. There had been a few close calls, but only two of those led to severe injuries, one of them being Gwen, and the other time being you.

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You and your team had been ambushed due to a malfunction with the portal opening. Each of you were put with your own variant to fight. Just to your luck, you were confronted by Jess. She looked awful to be honest. Stressed. She was probably put on finding you and your team while Miguel endlessly searched for Miles. This little wild goose chase had tired her out. Part of you felt bad. But that was very quickly overcome by the feeling of betrayal growing in your chest. You had a feeling she felt a similar way. “Please don’t make me do this. Just let me take you home,” she said weakly. Home. That’s right. That's basically what HQ had been to you before. You hadn’t been back to your Earth in five years, ever since Miguel caught you on the top of that building. Jessica was your first friend there. She had shown you the ropes to everything, been there for you during your lowest moments, and guided you to your highest ones. And now you had to repay her by sending her back to Miguel in a bloody pulp. You hated that this is how things had to go. But such was life for someone like you. “I have no home anymore,” you said at her monotonically before charging at her with your fists first. She’s quick to react, using one of her webs to swing away. It’s clear she doesn’t want to hurt you, each of her movements swift to defend herself, but never going on the offensive side. She could easily take you down if she wanted to. She had been doing this longer than you had and was more skilled than you too. She was going easy on you, desperately trying to show you she didn’t want to fight. But you didn’t care. You had put too much on the line to start to give up now.

The others had taken down their foes long before you had finished with Jess. You could see Gwen running up to you out of the corner of your eye, Ben tied up in a web behind her. You webbed her to the floor before she could get closer to the struggle you and Jess were currently in. You gave Gwen a quick, reassuring nod that she returned before running off to find the others. Once Gwen was out of sight, you quickly attached a web to Jess’ face, and pulled it down into your knee, knocking her glasses off her face and shattering on the floor. With her off her balance, you took the opportunity to try to knock her out. You slammed your fists into her face, one after the other, releasing all of the stress that had accumulated in your body over the past couple of months into her cheeks. You couldn’t see the damage you were doing, blinded by rage and betrayal and your fists blocking out her face. The only thing you could see was the blood splattering off of her face onto yours. You felt a voice in the back of your head begging you to stop. You desperately wanted to, but you had lost control of your body. Jess wasn’t the real person you wanted to hurt here, you already knew who that was. But she was the closest thing you could get to him right now. And if you were being honest with yourself, she wasn’t completely innocent to you either.

In her last desperate attempt to save herself, Jess shoved her forearm in the way of your balled up knuckles, grabbed a piece of shattered glass from her broken frames, and shoved it deep into your chest. Your reign of fury on her face suddenly stopped as pain quickly snapped through your body. You quickly fell to your knees, partially out of shock, and looked down to see the blood spilling out of your chest. As Jess dropped to her knees as well, you could finally get a gauge of the damage you’ve done. You couldn’t tell if the blood loss was making you see things, but her nose looked almost crooked, a dark cut slicing through the middle of it and blood pouring out of both nostrils. Both of her eyes were swollen, not entirely shut but on their way there. You looked down at your hands, the skin on your knuckles broken off and bleeding through the fabric of your suit, blending in with its natural red. They were trembling with a mixture of faded anger and new guilt. I never wanted to hurt her, you kept repeating to yourself in your head, as if it was going to make any difference. Maybe if you thought it hard enough, it would erase your actions. You suddenly flinched when you felt Jessica’s hand cupping your face. You looked up at her, mouth agape. Her soft thumb brushed your face as she stared lovingly at your face. So she did know. That made you feel a little less stupid when you broke down in front of her then and there. You just felt awful. Jess was your friend. Your best friend probably. And look at what you’ve done to her. You couldn’t understand how she managed to still be so soft with you, despite how much you’ve just mutilated her face. 

It was ever harder for you to understand how quickly she enveloped you as soon as she saw the tears begin to streak her face. You didn’t deserve this. You should run away. You need to run away. You’re currently bleeding out, and you’re just sitting here, sobbing into the crook of her neck. She’s probably just stalling for time and holding you here until help comes for her. But the longer you sat here the longer you realized…this was just her. It was only Jess here. No help was coming. Jess just wanted to hold you again one last time before letting you run away again. Once you pulled away from her, she wiped away your tears. “Don’t let me catch you,” she whispered into your ear. It was a reminder to you that while she was still holding onto her beliefs, that didn’t mean she ever stopped caring for you. She helped to push you up off of the ground, her hands now covered in your blood. You began to walk away out of  the dark alley to look for the others. Before leaving entirely, you turned around to look at Jess, still laying there. “I’ll find you once this is all over. So don’t you dare die on me, okay?” you shouted at her. She gave a simple nod in return, watching as you stumbled out of alley way. While you made the ultimate decision to let her live that day, you still had anger boiling up in your body. Somebody had to pay for all of this. All of this chaos that was about to unleash itself onto the multiverse. And you know exactly who did. And you didn’t intend to show him the same mercy you showed Jess. No. This was a job you intended to finish. 

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Thankfully, your chest laceration healed up quicker than expected, allowing you and your teammates to get back on track. Images of your encounter with Jess replayed through your mind for the next couple of weeks. The only other person you told about the details of your brutalization of Jess was Peter B., knowing he would understand with all the hard decisions he’s had to make himself. Gwen and Hobie had also noticed that you were acting a little bit off, but you avoided the subject every time they would bring it up. 

Suddenly though, it was happening. The moment you and your team had anticipated for the past couple of weeks. You were awoken by the bright glow of three orange portals opening up, three Spider-Men in each. Your team sprang awake and began to make a run for it. It was no use though, as one by one, each member of your team was separated by a different group of variants, until it was just you, Gwen, and Peter running. While you were running, you felt a hand yank at the hair on the back of your head. You quickly turned around and found Ben Reilly as the culprit. You didn’t hesitate to jump into the air and kick his face, pushing him off of you and onto the floor. As the three of you kept running, your attention was suddenly caught by something else. “Keep your hands off her! That one’s mine!” you heard the familiar voice call out to Ben. A chill went down your spine, as the three of you stopped dead in your tracks. You did it. You finally managed to lure the bat out of his cave. Before you could turn around and find the face that belonged to that deep, alluring voice, you were caught off guard as you felt a body dive into your stomach at full speed, knocking all of the air out of you lungs. The pure force of the dive pushed you and the figure into the brick wall of an abandoned building, crashing into the structure. 

Vision and hearing fuzzy from the impact, you heard Gwen scream out your name and begin to start running to you, before her and Peter B. get swept up by their own variants to take care of. Your head throbs in pain as you look around the building, feeling a huge weight on your chest. You look down at the rest of your body to find what’s weighing you down so much. And it’s him. Miguel’s massive body laying on top of you, his head dug into your stomach and arms wrapped around your waist from the dive. You were partially in shock. First of all, from the fact that your first interaction with him in months is him attempting to kill you (although it’d be a lie to say you weren’t thinking similar things). Second, you were still reeling from the blow. And third, the most shocking of all, was that this was arousing you in some way. Despite how much anger you were feeling towards him right now, you still managed to get butterflies in your stomach from how much of him was on top of you right now. He basically enveloped all of the lower half of your body. 

Shame and anger filled your body fast as you tried to push him off of you, any attempts in vain though due to how massive he was. He helped you though when he began to stand up, allowing you to get yourself up and dive through his legs as an escape. Just as you made your attempt to run out of the hole in the wall, away from a fight you know you couldn’t win, Miguel’s giant hand wrapped around your forearm. He pulled your body back to face him and slammed his massive fist into your face. Blood spurted out of your nose purely from the impact and you were nearly knocked onto the floor. You grabbed your nose in reaction and looked up at him towering over you, unable to make out his expression from his mask. “You must’ve been thinking about this encounter for a while. Have you been thinking about me, Miggy?” you quipped at him. Usually you spoke playfully with him whenever you were in a good mood with him, but this time it was your one desperate attempt to push down any feelings that would get in the way of you doing what needed to be done. “Don’t feel so flattered cariño. Whatever happens here isn’t personal,” he said in that deep, flirty tone you always found so sexy. But right now all it did was piss you off even more. “Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better,” you said, dropping the slight smirk you had on your face. Taking action right away, you charged right at him, ready to do it right this time. You just wished he had his mask off so you could look him dead straight in his crimson eyes as you killed him.

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a/n: i had night shift by lucy dacus on loop while writing the fight with jessica....thats all ill say on the matter. also sorry miguel's barely in this chapter i need to set up plot and shit

taglist: @sunfairyy @ladespedidas @jenniferdixon05207 @chalametet @khaleesihavilliard @sparklyphantom @sweetanimebakery @azxulaa @daimiyu @vinkar345 @pinkninja200 @luvstich @rin-matsuoka345-blog @lillunna @trying-2bcool @deputy-videogamer @chatoicboy @cookielovesbook-akie @impettywhenyouare @unnamedgayperson @sin4tra @twentysomethingwereyote @cherrymanhuas @sagejin @isaidoop @hysteriaabsd @autismsupermusicalassassin @persimmoned-fig @dcsuperheros @amodernarrietty @konniebon @barbi-e7 @venus1224idkpleaze @almondlocust @babybella777 @urmomcomsiimiamour @96jnie @cryptidwlw69 @mirrorball-6 @whosace16 @wolfiepirate @gobblegluckgluckgod @keenzinemugstudent @bitchotine @leopandabearsblog @blumin8 @malynn @mearss @yu-rylee @myhomethesea @ashjbu @skcj24 @joanne-uwu @y2ksitgirl @inosukesweirdwife @a-simp-20 @shibble @euphoricfics @hwanunjin

[andy-wandy]

damn.

BLOOD AND VIOLENCE WARNING

um...so i might have changed the original plans for chapter 2....

...sorry jess i swear it's not personal

[andy-wandy]

"canon event" this, "canon event" that

Miguel shut the fuck up my Ao3 account could kill you

[andy-wandy]

a spider in the snow

pairing: fem!reader x miguel o’hara

summary: you help rehabilitate an injured miguel after he returns from one of his late night patrols…in more ways than one

warnings: nsfw, fluff then smut then fluff, handjob (both m and f recieving), blood mention, an incy wincy tincy bit of angst

word count: 2.5k

notes: heyyyyy i've come back from the dead. i don't really write a lot of one shots so go easy on me for this one. just like every horny person on the internet, i’ve fallen head over heels in love with miguel o’hara. this is me giving into my impulses lmao. sorry if i do anything thats out of character idk him that well so just work with me here. i also don't know everything about nueva york and if names are different than here or something so im just gonna pretend they’re the same. if they are, great! if not, just go with it lmao. one more thing, despite being cuban i am a no sabo kid (rip me) so i had to use a translator for some of this so apologies in advance if some things aren't super accurate. ok lets get on with the show.

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Snowy nights in Nueva York have always been one of your favorite parts about moving up north. Seeing all the lit up buildings illuminated in the snow, all the people ice skating in Rockefeller Center rink just below your apartment window, the reminders of Christmas coming soon. It kept your heart warm against the freezing temperatures outside. You also loved the feeling of being able to bundle yourself up in blankets and hoodies, a mix of yours and your boyfriend’s, having an excuse to make hot chocolate, and finally being able to use the fireplace that normally laid dormant in the middle of your living room. The one con about the snow was when it would land on Miguel’s patrol nights. Your already nervous mind was only heightened by the added uncertainty of everything that could happen while he was out there. What if he got too cold while out there and it affected his ability to fight? What if it started snowing too hard and he wouldn’t be able to find his way back to the apartment? You knew some of your concerns were probably dumb, but they felt serious to you. 

This was one of those nights. One of the nights where you would sit on your couch, next to the cracked window, unable to sleep until you could see him come back safe. You flipped through the channels of the tv aimlessly, trying to find something to keep your mind off of the growing cold outside. You eventually turn it off after coming across the weather channel, claiming a snowstorm would be rolling into the city in about 15 minutes. Deciding there was nothing you could do about your situation, you walked over to your bedroom and wrapped yourself in your massive duvet to shield from the cold. Worries dashed around your mind about everything that could happen. Despite being verbally supportive about Miguel and his…hobbies, you really hated the idea of him sneaking out in basically pajamas almost every night to “beat up the bad guys” essentially. Even though he had explained everything to you by this point, having been dating for about three years now, you still couldn’t quite understand everything. Radioactive spiders? Corrupt businesses? Fangs and claws? Mutations? A multiverse? It was a lot to wrap your head around. But, despite all of this, all of your worries and concerns over Miguel, you stayed. Because you knew you didn’t start dating him because of his whole superhero business or whatever. You were dating him because you loved him. The real him. The way he would always press gentle kisses into the crook of your neck. How on his days off, you would be woken up to the smell of eggs and bacon cooking in the kitchen just for you. How he would always whisper sweet praises to you while you would give him head. How easily he could be crumbled down beneath his rock hard exterior. The Miguel underneath the red and blue spandex. You dreamt of this as you slowly fell into a calm slumber. You fell asleep bundled up in all the blankets on your bed, arm outstretched to the opposite side the bed, almost as if you were reaching for something that wasn’t there. 

After some time had passed, you’re not sure exactly how much, you were awoken by a thud coming from your bathroom. You lazily rubbed your eyes and grabbed your alarm clock to check the time. 3:47 am. Yeah, that’s definitely Miguel in there. You dragged yourself out of bed to help him out, throwing one of this hoodies over your tank top for extra warmth. You also liked how it still smelled like him after three times in the wash. You opened the door, eyes squinting from the bright fluorescent light. And there he was. You found it endearing. How Miguel was trying, and failing, to reach this massive scratch on his back to clean it instead of just waking you up to ask for your help. You look to the floor to find a bottle of hydrogen peroxide sitting there on the rug, probably what caused the thudding sound. You stood there leaning in the doorframe, waiting for him to notice you, even though he probably already heard every step you’ve taken from the bed up to the door now. “You need any help there?” you ask him, jokingly. You had seen him in much worse conditions, so you took moments like these to be more comedic, an attempt to lighten his mood sort of. It didn’t usually work. “No, I got it. Please go back to sleep,” he said, still attempting to wrap his arms around himself. You rolled your eyes and walked over to sit behind him, picking up the hydrogen peroxide off the floor and grabbing a couple of cotton balls from the first aid basket. “Mi amor, please go back to sleep, I promise I can do this by myself,” he argued. Before he could get another word in, you poured some of the hydrogen peroxide over his wound. He groaned in response and squeezed your thigh to help level out the pain. “That’s for worrying me all night,” you said to him, just over the volume of a whisper. As you began to dab the blood off of his cut, he responded. “You know I don’t want you to worry.” Once you could see he was turning his head around to look at you, you turned your eyes away. You didn’t really want to look at him right now. It’s not that you were mad at him. Ok that’s a lie, you were a little mad. But it was more of a helplessness you felt when you would see him like this. Beat up, cut, scratched, bruised. And there wasn’t anything you could do to help. Not until after at least. And it wasn’t like you were a trained nurse or anything. You dreaded the day that he would come stumbling through the window, too injured for you to take care of yourself. Or worse. The day he wouldn’t come home at all. “Yeah, well that doesn’t mean I don’t,” you said sort of coldly. You stood up from your position, waiting to patch up his back until after he showered. You changed your positions to sit from behind him to in front, ready to take care of his front side now. “I don’t want to talk about that right now tho-.” You cut yourself off when you finally saw his face

Cuts were scattered across his face, one above his eyebrow still dripping blood catching your attention first. He also had a bruise quickly forming on his left cheekbone. Once you moved your eyes more, you saw his nose marked with a deep cut going through the middle. His beautiful nose. It was one of your favorite parts of his appearance. Done scanning his face, your eyes moved down to his chest and his torso. His chest was marked with similar cuts to the one on his back. You kept your eyes on his chest in an attempt to hide the fact you were holding back tears right now. “I’m sorry mi cariño. I really am.” You knew he was. But sorry wasn’t going to keep him safe. This was one apology among many. It didn’t really matter. He wasn’t sorry for getting hurt again and again and again. He was sorry for the fact you had to see him like this. If you wouldn’t have seen that he was injured, he wouldn’t have said anything And you knew after this apology as well, he would go out tomorrow night and do the same thing over again. You didn’t respond to his words. All you could manage to do was pull him into an embrace and apologize when he winced from your hands hitting his cuts. You sat there for a bit, running your hands through his hair and trying to hold yourself back from crying. He nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck and planted gentle kisses there, each a little apology from him. Once you finally pulled away and wiped your face, you started to clean the scrapes on his face, this time more gentle than his back. You dabbed the cotton ball on his forehead as he held you straddled on his lap. He admired your features as you concentrated on him, rubbing your back with his fingers in the process. You didn’t say much, only a simple “sorry” if you were a little too rough with cleaning. Despite the stern face you were putting on, Miguel knew you secretly liked the way he would grab at your thighs and hips with his claws when you did something that hurt.

Once you were finished, you silently put the first aid equipment away and left the bathroom so he could take a shower. He planted a soft kiss into your forehead before you left the room. Once you crawled back into bed, you sighed to yourself. How did you end up here anyways? There’s no way you were expecting all of this when you first saw Miguel at the concert bar that day. Some days were amazing with him. Others were much harder. And while you’ve definitely had worse days with him, today was leaning on the latter option. You contemplated all of this until you heard the door to the bathroom behind you open, Miguel stepping out of the steaming room with his towel wrapped around his lower body. You were very quickly reminded of one of the reasons you’ve stayed with him for so long. The way his wet curls were laying around his head. How his chest glistened while it was damp, despite currently being tattered with cuts at the current moment. He sleepily shuffled over to the bed, dropping his towel before crawling up close to you in bed. The warmth of Miguel’s freshly showered body against yours helped to melt the majority of your worries away. It also helped that you could feel his his cock getting harder against your leg while he cuddled against you. You finally turned around to face him, cupping his jaw in your hand and rubbing your thumb across his face. He grasped your hand and pressed soft kisses into it. “I love you so much Miggy,” you finally said, breaking the silence and drawing his eyes towards you. “I really do, and I’m sorry if I ever make it seem like I don’t. You just…you scare me sometimes.” You quickly realize those weren’t the words you meant. You begin to stutter and take back your words a bit, until you see that Miguel has given you his full attention. You take a deep breath and continue. “You don’t scare me. It’s more of what you do that scares me. I never know when you’re gonna come back or if you even are. If you think I take joy in taking care of you after you come back, I really don’t. I hate seeing my boy like this. And it makes me scared that one day you’re gonna come back in a shape I can’t fix. It scares me so bad Miggy you don’t even know,” you say, choking back your tears. Once Miguel notices you’re about to start crying, he wraps his arms around you immediately. “Shhh it’s ok preciosa,” he comforts as you quietly cry into his broad shoulders. “I’m so sorry for making you worry,” he says in between kissing the top of your head. “I promise I’ll make it up to you, and I love you too.” 

You pull away from his hug and stare into his beautiful crimson eyes as he wipes away your tears. You suddenly fall into the overwhelming urge to kiss him. He returns the kiss with even more passion than you put into it. You quickly found yourself exploring his body with your hands, moans escaping his lips whenever you would graze over one of his wounds. You drew yourself closer to him to absorb more of his body heat, though you were quickly reminded of his bare cock as you could feel it hardening on your leg. Your hands eventually made it down there, teasing Miguel along the way as you felt him up on the way down. You then took his hard, already wet cock into your hands, caressing every ridge you could find on it. You could hear more moans exit his mouth and slide into yours as you handled him like putty. He would let out messier sounds, even a growl at one point, and jerk forward into your hand when you would tease around his tip. “F-fuck baby. Y-you’re s-so good to me. ‘N pr-retty too,” he would blurb out Feeling his cock get increasingly hard in your hand began to make you slightly wet as well. This only increased as Miguel began to take off your underwear as well, sliding two of his fingers into your pussy and placing his thumb to draw circles onto your clit. Your grip on his length becomes lazy and sloppy as you’re stimulated as well. You’re surprised at how quickly Miguel is able to find your clit, but then again you expect him to know your body so well after three years. After both of you have been at it for a while, you’re the first one to get close to your orgasm. “Fuck M-Miggy, I-I’m gonna cum,” you manage to moan out. His kisses on you get sloppy as he reaches his as well. It’s over for you once he begins to put more pressure onto your core. You let out an inhuman noise as your stomach fills with the white heat of your orgasm, shaking your entire body. Miguel takes his fingers out of your entrance and licks your cum off of his fingers. It’s then over for him when you eventually put the pressure of your fingers onto his cock. You hand is then covered in his cum once he reaches his climax in your fist, moaning intensely into the air. While he’s in the middle of his orgasm, his claws pop out of his fingers and into your hips and underneath your thigh where his hands are placed. Then, he lets out his fangs and uses them to leave hickeys into your neck, making sure not to let out any of his poison while doing so. “Just stay here with me Miggy,” you sigh out, his fangs deep into your neck. “You don’t ever need to go back out there again. Just stay here with me forever.” He simply nods at first, still sucking into your neck. Once he lets go and and begins to calm down, he responds with “Forever and always mi corazón,” whispering the words into your ear as he lays more kisses along your collarbone and neck.

You stare outside the window at the falling snow, hoping this time he’ll keep his word, but knowing deep down that he wasn’t going to. But for now, you could just appreciate your time with him now. He was all yours right now. Everything. And that was enough.

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A/N: uhhhh sorry but i didn't feel like proofreading this cause its super late for me rn sorry not sorry lmao

[andy-wandy]

𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you have always thought chief jim hopper was hot. and you knew he thought the same about you, he just tried to hide it because he thought it was wrong since he knew your dad and you were still in high school. however, after hopper crashes a house party, you ask him for a ride home. hopper briefly loses his self-control. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | jim hopper x fem!reader 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | smut— unprotected sex, car sex, large age gap, reader still in high school but is eighteen, sorta rough sex? size kink,  power dynamic. *if any of this bothers you, don’t read. 𝐰𝐜 | 2.9 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 | i now have dark!hopper fic ideas so if anyone has any requests lmk

*•.¸♡masterlist *•.¸♡ao3 *•.¸♡twt

「 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝 」 [bonus gif added at the end] r.h. masterlist

Listen, it wasn’t your fault that you wrote for the school paper and that often led to you questioning the police about local crime scenes. And it wasn’t your fault that you encountered the chief of police, Jim Hopper, on almost every occasion. And it definitely wasn’t your fault that he was so good looking. What, were you supposed to pretend you didn’t find his authority and dad bod hot? But it might have been a little bit your fault that Hopper got stumped on the questions you’d ask him because you made sure to wear your shortest skirt those days. 

Hopper was not a boy in your school who would fumble with his words and act stupid around someone he was attracted to. But still, you could tell that Hopper was into you, even if he hid it well. It’s like he expected your bombarding presence when anything remotely interesting happened in Hawkins. You’d show up, notebook in hand, and press him for details. You knew he was hard to crack. He was professional and no one could get information out of him… Well, except for you. You always managed to get him to spill some sort of top-secret information about the case–just enough for you to work with. And if that wasn’t obvious enough that he liked you, you also had caught him glancing over at you before, his eyes lingering on your exposed legs before quickly averting his gaze.

\\ 

It was the weekend and you were busy celebrating this being your final year of high school by attending a party. You danced through the crowd of bodies, catching a glimpse of Steve Harrington working his charm on one of the popular girls in your grade. You rolled your eyes, he’d grow out of it eventually. 

You didn’t think the party was too loud until a police siren sounded from outside the house. In a panic, students began running every which way, darting out of whoever’s house this was–you weren’t quite sure–and off into the streets and woods. You peered out the window and saw Hopper walking up to the door, yelling at a couple of kids as he did. You were glad you wore your favorite skit and a low-cut shirt tonight. 

Before Hopper could bang on the door, you swung it open. 

“Hi, officer,” you teased. His face was tense and his narrowed eyebrows made him appear threatening–nothing new here. 

“What the hell are you dumb fucking kids thinking?” He yelled, spotting the drunk teenagers behind you as they darted out the back door to escape Hopper’s rage.

“It’s just a small get together.”

Hopper rolled his eyes and sighed. He looked around, most of the others had fled the scene, their laughing voices and hollering echoing down the neighborhood street. 

This wasn’t even your house, you knew you couldn’t get in trouble for this. But you couldn’t help but swoon at the idea of Hopper putting you in handcuffs…

“Shows over. Go home.” He ordered at you and the small group who were watching from behind you in the living room. It must have been the kid who lived here and his close friends, who else would have the guts to stick around… Well, besides you, of course. 

Hopper turned around and marched down the steps towards his truck. He didn’t get paid enough to deal with annoying seniors throwing a house party. His presence was enough to break the whole thing up, so he was calling that a job well done. 

“Wait,” you called out to him, chasing him down the lawn. Hopper stopped in front of his vehicle and turned towards you, an annoyed scowl plastered across his unshaven face. “What?” His voice was dark and husky from lack of sleep.

“I…Don’t have a way home.” You gave him your best puppy dog eyes. You weren’t lying–now that everyone else had ditched, you really didn’t have a ride home, and it was late and dark out. 

“Seriously?” He asked. 

You could see the harsh lines from frowning all the time engraved on his forehead. Still, there was a softness to him. You knew he wouldn’t say no. 

In a huff, he turned to get in his car, “Get in.” 

You smiled, happy at your success, and jumped into the passenger side of his truck. 

Hopper already knew where you lived, he was well acquainted with your dad, and in such a small town, everyone knew where everyone lived. 

After Hopper had taken off down the road, you leaned over and turned on the radio. That earned an annoyed glance and a grunt from him. He reached out and turned the volume down, the low hum of The Rolling Stones playing out of his shitty speakers. 

You looked out the window and rubbed your arms. Hopper didn’t pay much attention to what you were doing so you had to vocalize your intentions. “It’s cold in here.” Your arms laid bare to the chill Autumn weather. When Hopper didn’t respond, you began digging in the back compartment of his truck. 

“Hey! What the hell are you doing?” He shot daggers at you before looking back at the road.

“Don’t you have an extra jacket or something in here?” 

You turned back to him and he sat in silence, contemplating if he should do what his mind just told him to do. Jim was trying his hardest not to engage with you, he knew it would lead to no good. Against his better judgment, he slipped his coat off and shoved it at you. 

You were genuinely surprised that he actually gave you his coat. You held it a bit dumbfounded before sliding it on. It was warm from his body heat and smelt of him. You felt a rush of blood rise to your cheeks as you drowned in Hopper’s coat that was evidently too big for you. 

It was only a few more minutes before Hopper pulled up to your house, pulling over on the side of the street, bushes and trees in your front yard blocking any view from inside your house to Hopper’s truck.

You smiled and looked over at him, “Thanks.”

He had no excuse not to look at you now that he wasn’t driving. When he looked over, his jacket was engulfing you like a blanket, your exposed legs hanging out of it like it were a dress. His jaw tensed and he controlled himself from gulping. “Sure thing, kid.”

Maybe you’d be able to get out without him realizing you didn’t give him his coat back. You could sleep in it all night. And it would be a perfect excuse to go visit him at the station in the morning. 

You went to open your door but it didn’t budge. You began shoving it with both your hands, but the stupid thing was jammed. 

“Shit. Ron told me he fixed that damn thing for good,” he said annoyed. Just another thing added to the long list of shit he had to do.

You turned back to him in your seat, your face turning red when you got the idea of climbing over him to get out his door instead. 

Before Hopper noticed what you were doing, your hand was on his arm and you were crawling over to him from your seat. 

“What are you–” He asked in pure shock.

“Didn’t wanna inconvenience you,” you muttered, your eyes meeting his as your hand rested against him. He didn’t shove you off or jump out of the truck to get away from you. Your eyes lingered up to his and you could see the darkness spread across him. His look intimidated you, sending a rush of heat right to your core. 

You gained enough courage to continue on and climbed up onto his lap, awkwardly holding his chest for balance as you slid on top of him. There wasn’t much room so your body was forced close to his. He still didn’t say anything. It was making you nervous. 

You grabbed his door handle and you were about to push it open and step off of him and onto the road when you felt his large hands grip your waist. You looked over at him and saw the way his pupils were blown and his breathing was deeper than before. 

He yanked you down fully onto his lap prying a gasp from your lips. You sat, half-straddling him, and speechless. 

Hopper came back to his senses all at once and released you, his hands falling to the side of his thighs before looking back at you in what appeared to be shock and horror. 

You were so fucking right, Hopper was into you. 

Your hands gripped his button-up uniform top as you looked at him with hooded eyes, unwilling to leave your spot on top of him. 

Hopper’s chest was falling up and down in heavy breaths, his eyes searching yours as you held onto him like you were afraid he was going to shove you off. 

He began to realize that you were okay with what he just did and you were now begging him to continue through your pouting lips and fluttering eyelashes. 

One of his hands braved exploration and slid up your warm thigh leaving goosebumps in its wake. You took a sharp breath in at his touch. “Hopper…” Your voice was barely audible as your head spun from his intoxicating stare. You felt him begin to harden underneath you, his eyes searching yours for a response. With that, you crashed your lips against his, his mustache tickling your nose, wasting no time kissing you back. His other hand was under his jacket you wore and clutched onto your hip, pulling you towards him. 

The amount of awful thoughts he’d had about you made him worry he wouldn’t be able to control himself when you stepped into his truck. It was why he tried so hard to avoid you whenever you were around. The temptation dripped off of him as he held you, knowing he was past the point of return. He couldn’t stop now. 

He effortlessly pulled your weight down onto his lap, pressing you up against his growing bulge. You whined, the feeling of him against your core was making you wet beyond belief. His hands were large against you, he was able to hold most of your thigh in one hand as he squeezed it. You knocked his hat off as your hands came up to wrap around his neck while you kissed him, pushing your chest against his. 

One of his hands slid between your bodies and under your skirt, his finger brushing against your soaking panties, making you jump. You momentarily pulled away from the kiss to let out a yelp as he began dragging his fingers back and forth. 

His lip kicked up in a slight smirk as he watched you squirm on top of him, your weight rolling into his hand needily. He pushed your underwear aside and let one finger slide around your hole, then he gently pushed in. 

You bit your lip, his eyes never leaving yours. His finger filled you and when he began to slide a second one in, he was met with some resistance. His fingers were large and easy enough to fill you, how on earth was he going to fit his–

Hopper was pondering the same question, his throbbing cock begging to escape his pants at the thought of how tight you were. 

His fingers slid out of you, desperate to find release inside you. You hiked your skirt up so he could see the way your thigh billowed at the sides as his hand squeezed it. His hands left you to unbuckle his pants, awkwardly pushing up against you as he slid them down just enough for his length to spring out. You licked your lips and reached down, gripping his cock in your hand. You almost couldn't wrap your entire fingers around him; you always knew he was big. 

You wanted him so fucking pathetically right now. Your hands held his shoulders as his own shoved your skirt up then grabbed his cock in one hand and shifted your panties to the side with his other. He lined himself up with you as you dripped in wetness, eagerly waiting. 

He looked up at you, his eyes hungry with lust, his intense expression sending shivers up your spine. You slowly sank down on him, taking in his tip. You squeaked, already feeling like he wasn’t going to fit. His eyes shut, preventing himself from grabbing your hips and forcing you down to take him in all at once. 

You slowly sank down further until you bottomed out, both of your breathing loud. 

“Fuck,” he cursed. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as he throbbed inside you, pressing against your cervix. Your skirt was hiked up above your belly button and his hands crawled up to your exposed waist. He lifted you up off him with such ease, wanting you to take him in again. With a loud moan from both of you, he guided you back down, small shocks of pain radiating through you at the quickness of his actions. You began to move on your own, slowly riding him up and down, your head bending towards his to avoid hitting the roof of his truck. 

The pain of him stretching you out soon subsided and was replaced with pangs of pleasure. You picked up speed, your bodies sloppily colliding. “Jesus,” he growled. “You’re, ugh–so–fucking–tight,” he managed to get out between grunts. His hands gripped your ass, pulling you towards him as he squeezed your cheeks between his fingers, shifting the angle so his cock hit right at your g-spot each time he filled you up. 

You began to let out soft whimpers, Hopper’s guttural growls masking the sounds you were making. You leaned forward, clinging on to him, your face buried in his neck and shirt as you continued to ride him. Your soft cries filled Hopper’s ear making him twitch inside you. 

His arms wrapped around you and held you close. Your legs were starting to give out, your pace slowing. Filled with impatience at how slow you were going now, Hopper’s hand found his seat lever and pulled it, sending you both backward as it extended to an almost horizontal position. You were momentarily confused as to what he was doing until he rolled you over in one swift motion so you laid underneath him. Your legs widened so he could fit comfortably between them and he began thrusting into you. You squealed as he pounded into you with such force, you were certain his truck was rattling to the waves of Hopper’s thrusts. Your arms extended over your head and clutched the wall of his truck to help hold you in place as he forcefully slid into you time and time again. He was cursing against your lips before his forehead connected with yours. His breath was hot against you as he panted. 

You felt yourself getting dangerously close. In a small voice you spoke, “Hopper, I’m…Gonna–”

He continued to fuck into you, your legs as far apart as they could be, wanting him to hit you as deeply as he could. “Fuck, fuck fuck, fuck,” he swore, his cock twitching inside you as he thrusted. In a loud groan, you felt him begin to spill into you, sending you over the edge as well. You mewled under him, your legs shaking as he kept his speed, his cock sending spurts of hot liquid into you. His hands roamed your body, not able to touch enough of you as he came. One of his hands came up and rested on the side of your cheek and partially in your hair, pulling in into his fist. Your name pooled off his tongue as he gave one last deep release inside you, his thrusts beginning to slow now. You panted under his weight as he came to a stop. He collapsed on top of you, both of your faces covered in sweat. Liquid dripped out of you as he gently pulled out. He was out of breath as he grabbed you into his arms and rolled you both over so you were laying on him instead. 

After laying there in heavy breathing filled silence, he began to sit up, taking you with him as he did. You sat on his thighs as he shimmied his pants back around his waist and let his seat swing back to its usual position. 

A small wave of fear-filled Hopper’s newly cleared mind. “You’re eighteen…Right?” 

You giggled, “If I say yes, does that mean we can do this again?”

His eyes widened before you began climbing off of him. “I’m kidding,” you said, dragging your words out. “I’m eighteen, you idiot.” 

Hopper let his thoughts untangle themself before he turned to you. “We probably shouldn’t do this again. I shouldn’t have even let this happen tonight.” How was he going to face your father the next time he saw him without remembering the way you looked when you rode him tonight?

You jumped out of his truck, leaning against his lap as you stood on the pavement. “Okay. We won’t do this again then,” you said with a shit-eating grin. You knew Hopper wouldn’t be able to resist you now, so it didn’t matter what he said. He watched you walk towards your house, your skirt flowing back and forth as you walked. He gripped the steering wheel tightly in his fists as he already felt himself begin to get hard again watching the way his jacket looked on you as it engulfed your small frame. 

bonus gif [yes it’s actually d.h.]

part 2

[andy-wandy]

alight with the lights out | diego hargreeves x reader [tua]

A/N: Thank you for all of your interest after I posted the teaser! It was VERY surprising and humbling; I’ve NEVER had so many people ask for a tag before. I only ask that if you asked for a tag, you interact with this fic SOMEHOW. And go find another story you love and REBLOG IT! LET THAT WRITER KNOW YOU LOVE THEM!

I’ll be honest, I’m very nervous about this one. I’m not sure if it turned out as good on paper as it did in my head. Please let me know what you liked and what you didn’t!

Pairing: Diego Hargreeves x vigilante, powered!Reader; this one may read a bit more like an OC because I’ve given the reader backstory, powers. She’s (you’re) a vigilante who regularly runs into Diego. I keep the physical description vague, so I hope you can still imagine yourself! 

Warnings: Language; who doesn’t love getting a little sweary? Violence, fighting, references to a shitty childhood, and separately, implied sexual assault (nothing graphic, I promise); angst and angsty dialogue; SMUT– 18+ ONLY PLEASE; lots of cocktease dialogue, fingering, pierced nipples (the reader’s not Diego’s– sorry), biting, rough sex, choking. Romance is its own warning. Fluff.

Word Count: 12.1k of sexy, self-righteous vigilantism, half-baked metaphor and of course, at least one literary reference. 

Summary: Diego Hargreeves, aka The Kraken, is secure about few things in life; one of those things being his vigilantism. He’s a hero. Until he meets a fighter who shares the same hobby, albeit with different methodologies. Diego isn’t quite as certain about her, but her mysterious abilities make him think he and his siblings aren’t the only ones in this world with power. If only she and Diego could just stay out of each others’ hair. It’s a good, old-fashioned ENEMIES TO LOVERS, lads!

Link to my playlist of songs that inspired this fic: here

NOT MY GIF

—-

You wouldn’t hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. That was rule number one. Hell, if you could get away with it at all, you wouldn’t hurt anyone. 

But Mr. Adler hated children. And he had made it his mission to not understand you. To regard you with the utmost disdain. And unfortunately for you, Mr. Adler had married your mother when you were six years old. 

You had never known another father. Your mother refused to talk about the circumstances of your birth, or of the man who had supposedly been responsible. The lack of identity loomed like a large question mark over certain portions of your life. 

And Mr. Adler, that loud, controlling lout, was not about to fill that void. 

When you were in elementary school, you began to feel like you were different from the other children. Watching them carry about their days with their steel-pressed pop culture lunch boxes and not a care in the world. While you sensed your music teacher’s sadness when her cat had died. You could feel every anxiety that passed through your classmates on the day of a spelling test. You didn’t know why you could feel these things. You just could.

Keep reading

[andy-wandy]

Dislocated

A/N Warnings: description of injury, references to violence, oral sex, penetrative sex, diego being a soft little angel but also very sexy hot sex man, cursing, diego has long hair but other than that no spoilers, mild product placement because me and u and everyone else are slaves to capitalism, references to diegos comics powers

“Fuck. Where do you keep your bactine?”

“My what?”

“Bactine! You know the spray stuff I use. It would really help that split knuckle of yours,” Diego sounds exhausted, but there’s a hint of teasing, or maybe pride in his voice as he rummages on his hands and knees in your bathroom cabinet. The knuckle on your middle finger of your left hand is split open, oozing blood and angry looking. Your bathroom, and the two of you, look like a scene out of a horror film tonight. There is his shirt, which was white earlier tonight, now a red and pink and brown tie dye with blood, some of it yours. You have your hand, and a bruise blooming under your eye. 

“My knuckle wouldn’t need anything if those people hadn’t come after us,” you snap, “Who were they anyway?”

“Oh you know, someone with something against someone in my family,” Diego offers as he digs, as if it’s commonplace to fight off attackers on date night. As if this was something normal people from normal families dealt with. Of fucking course, you think.

Keep reading

[andy-wandy]

Sorry?

okay it’s so random, but this is a very short (1.8k worth of words) idea that came to me all of sudden, so - I guess it’s my first Diego fic aye? 🎉

WARNINGS: swearing, bits of ANGST and SMUT (underage please scroll down past this)

~~~~~

Living in the centre has its moments. Like shops and bus stops nearby, or great apartments. But there any days when you’d rather kill every single one of your nosy neighbours, noisy people on the street and everyone else who comes in your way.

Why? Cause you’ve had a long, tiring day and nothing went as planned, and all you wanted to do was to have a nice long shower, maybe eat some leftovers and go straight to bed to get some well deserved rest.

But no.

Apparently the universe and someone banging at your door at 3am were having other plans.

So you drag your already warmed up, limb body from the bed, and down the hall slowly opening your reddened eyes and cursing under your breath.

“Good fucking riddance! What kind of a blabbering asshole wakes up people in the middle of the goddamn night for no bloody reason!”

The door swings open and you’re met with the most pitiful countenance one could ever expect.

No, not a box of cute puppies but a whole 6 feet of shameless discourtesy. And missed calls.

Keep reading

[andy-wandy]

i remember his hands - chapter 4

PAIRING: kang the conqueror x fem!reader

SUMMARY: after a scientific experiment goes horribly wrong, you've been transported to the quantum realm and have been stuck there for the past decade. with no company, aside from janet van dyne, your life changes forever when a mysterious man in a golden ship crash lands next to your settlement. startled with his initial presence, you two have a rocky start. but as time goes on, you two find each other slowly drawn to one another. you have secrets though, and he has a past he refuses to bring up. can you two make it through navigating an unknown world together, discovering any ulterior motives, and stand the test of time in a place where time has no meaning at all?

INFO: slow romantic burn, pretty fast sexual burn, kinda enemies to lovers????, takes place during that little flashback janet has during quantumania, idk how accurate this is gonna be to canon stuff cause i get very confused about the quantum realm lol, reader is in mid to late 20s while kang is in his “early 30s” (ik he like technically doesn't age or whatever idk the lore but i just made it accurate to jonathan majors age and wanted to give an accurate age range/gap/count), y/n will be very fleshed out like im gonna give her everything lol

WARNING: explicit language (sexual and verbal), smut, p in v unprotected (stay safe people), a little angsty, he’s being nice to her awwwwww

CHAPTER WORD COUNT:  2.7k

NOTES: OMG IM SORRY THIS IS COMING SO LATE!!! its kinda coming from the mix of being really busy this past week and not knowing what to write lol so again, sorry

PREVIOUS PART

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Saying you were furious with Kang was an understatement. Although at this point, you were more upset with yourself for giving into it that easily. You hadn’t even had a full conversation with him and you had sex with him. Honestly, you should’ve seen it coming. That was what upset you the most. You knew exactly what would come of it, and you did it anyways. And worst of all. You liked it. No. You loved it. You tried to make yourself feel better by thinking that it was just the fact that it had been years since someone touched you like that that made you love it. But deep down you knew it was him. The way he handled you, the way he kept teasing and edging you, the way he put you at ease. You loved it. And you wanted it again. 

You had been in this back and forth with yourself for the past three days, the amount of time its been since you’ve started giving Kang the cold shoulder. If you were being honest, you felt bad about how cold you grew towards him. But he deserved it. Part of you wished you had finished the job and killed him then and there. But you didn’t. You still didn’t know why. Right now, you just decided to blame it on clouded judgment from your blood loss. You stopped yourself from trying to figure out why though, as you realized it would send you down a rabbit hole of thoughts. 

After two hours of no luck catching mites for food, you gathered your hunting gear and headed back inside the cabin. And yet again, there he was, just sitting there sprayed across the couch. Despite your pleas to her to get him to work or do anything other than sit around, Janet insisted he needed more to time to recover. Which he would trick her into believing, as you knew what his body was capable of at this point. You would occasionally exchange glances with him while working in the kitchen. In the spilt seconds that your eyes would meet his, you tried desperately to search for any signs of remorse or regret for what he did. But you could never find any. At most, you could only recognize one emotion going through them. Desire. And you knew for what.

Which is why would look away from him so quickly. Janet walked out from her room and over by the couch to talk to Kang. Presumably to try and get some more information out of him. So far, she told you that the only things she found out about him was his name, which you already knew, how he crashed, the core of his ship ran out of energy, and what he called his ship, the Time Chair. He had been secretive about everything else. Frankly, you didn’t really care about finding information about him anymore. You just wanted him out of your house. Janet stood above the couch and asked him to stand up. You turned around to watch and see what would happen. Reluctantly, Kang stood up from the couch and took a couple of steps around the room. You snickered a bit to yourself after seeing the look Janet gave him. He whipped his head around to see you smiling to yourself. “Is everything alright?” He asked sharply. “No no, it’s just funny.” You remarked with a smirk on your face. “That's enough you two.” Janet said, shooting daggers at you. She turned her face back to Kang. “Alright, since it seems like you're well enough to walk, you’re gonna take care of some errands for me in town.” You could see his posture slightly slouch in response to her demand. You couldn’t help but quietly giggle to yourself. “Oh and you’re going with him.” Janet said, turning back to you. Before you could disagree, she said “I need you to show him where everything is and to be there to carry him just in case he can’t walk anymore.” You looked at him up and down, then turned back to Janet. After standing in silence for a second, Janet replied. “Okay, mainly to show him where everything is.” You scoffed to yourself before grabbing your gear and walking outside. Janet tapped Kang on the shoulder as a sign to follow you. He walked outside to find you already about 50 feet ahead of him. This was going to be a long day.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You walked around the market, making sure to keep at least a five foot distance between the two of you. Your only interaction with him was handing him the bags of wild fruits you purchased to carry. You walked past a pawn shop type building. You knew you and Janet were getting short on cash. You stared at the gold bangle on your left wrist. It was a gift from your father. You could still remember unwrapping the box that contained it on your 14th birthday and putting it on immediately after. You hadn’t taken it off since. But times were getting desperate. And this was your last resort. You took a deep breath and told Kang to wait outside for you. You walked inside and up to the counter to make the trade. You reluctantly unlatched the bracelet and placed it on the counter, tears welling up in your eyes. You took the money from the attendant and turned to leave, but bumped into someone on your way out. “Sorry.” You said without looking at them. 

Your eyes shot up at them though when you felt a hand grab your forearm. “Told you it was her.” One of the men said. Finally taking awareness of your surroundings, you noticed three men crowding around you, one of which held a tightening grip around your forearm. “I thought I told you I didn’t wanna see you around here until you gave me my money.” Once you registered their faces and recognized who they were, you finally responded. “And I’m so terribly sorry it hasn’t gotten to you yet, that’s a real shame on my part.” You replied sarcastically. The man’s smirk dropped as he started to twist your forearm. You stifle a scream as he twists it behind your back. “Oh yeah? And what’s stopping me from breaking your arm and taking what you have now?” You tried to think of a way out of this when you noticed a shard of glass on the floor from when one of the men slammed the pawn shop attendant’s head into the counter. You grabbed the shard of glass and stabbed it into the man’s foot. He screamed and let go of your arm. You picked yourself off quickly from the floor and punched the other two men and ran out the door for your escape. 

Kang was still standing outside the shop when you grabbed his wrist and started running as the two men you punched started to run after you. He breaks away from your grip and starts running with you. “Mind explaining what’s going on?!” Kang shouted at you. “Maybe after we lose them!” You shouted back, maneuvering between the carts and people in the streets. You grab a ball from two children playing in the street and chuck it at one of the men’s heads, knocking him to the ground. You turn a sharp corner and bump into a wandering person, giving Kang time to catch up with you. You grab his wrist again, realizing he isn’t as fast as you are. You look around the street, desperate for an escape. You notice an alleyway just up ahead and run into it, Kang just behind you. You push the both of you back into the darkest corner of the alley as you see one of the men run past. You wait a couple of seconds to see if he will come back before let your guard down. Once a bit of time has gone by, you slunk yourself into the corner. 

“What the fuck was that?” Kang asked angrily. “You know, a little bit of a warning would’ve been nice before you dragged me through the streets while being chas-.” He stops himself when he turns around to see your head cuddled into your knees. He hears slight sobs coming from you mouth. You lift your head from your knees as you clutch the money you just 1) risked his and your life for and 2) just traded away one of your most valuable possessions away for. You couldn’t help but feel at least a little ashamed for breaking down in front of him like this, but you couldn’t help it. He sighed and walked towards you. He kneeled down in front of you and took your face in both his hands. He cupped your cheeks and used his big thumbs to wipe away your tears as they were coming down. “I’m sorry.” was all he could muster up to say. You just nodded in response. “I’m sorry for yelling.” You nodded again, keeping your teary, bloodshot eyes away from his. “And I’m sorry for leaving you that night.” You finally looked at him as he said that. You could see a sadness enter his eyes as you looked at him. Sadness mixed with sincerity. 

You looked back down at the money and clenched it with your hands as you put it away in your jacket pocket. You took some deep breaths, but couldn’t seem to calm yourself down. You just couldn’t believe what you just did. You were angry at yourself for giving something so valuable to you away so easily. And for what? Money that was going to last you two weeks at best. Memories started to flood back into your head. You just missed them all so much. You tried not to think about them too much, but as a result, you began to forget how much they meant to you. You could just sit there for hours, crying and reminiscing. Something ripped you away from those thoughts though. You suddenly felt this huge weight rest upon you. Then it clicked. He was hugging you.

You felt Kang’s big bear arms wrap around your smaller frame. You sniffled as you felt his hot breath graze against your neck. You could feel your cheeks getting hotter and brighter as he tightened his arms around you. You noticed you were beginning to calm down. You pulled away to catch your breath. Then he kissed your temple. Then your forehead. Then the bridge just above your nose. Then your cheek. He stayed on your cheek for a while before pulling away. He was doing it again. His deep brown eyes were swimming oceans into yours. You could sit there for hours just staring at him. Taking in all his features. Noticing the way your cheeks fit into his hands so easily. What happened next was a change in pace though. You kissed him. 

Saying you were kissing him was doing a disservice to both of you though. It was more as if you two were melting into each other. Becoming one. Joining into each other’s body’s. Your hands gripped onto his hips, desperate for more of him. A slight moan escaped him and entered your mouth. You could already feel yourself getting wet. You knew where this was leading. His hands traveled from your jawline to the hemming of your shirt. His warm, coarse hands traveled up your cold, smooth stomach to just underneath your underboob. You took this time to take off your jacket and place it on the floor next to you. Next, you remove your hands from his hips to help him unbutton his pants. You slid them off his legs. He gets the memo and moves his hands from your breasts to your shorts and slides them off. He hooks your underwear with his pointer finger and drags them off. You do the same to his. He helps slide you down from your sitting position to lay down. 

It hasn’t been until this point when your hand dips into a dirty puddle that your remember where you are. You make sure to remind him as well when he goes to take off your shirt. Yeah his cock may be hanging out and your bare ass is out as well, but you’ll take the privacy of a shirt right now if its what you can get. He respects your wishes and puts his lips to your collarbone as he rests just above your hips. After a couple seconds of sucking on your collar, he pulls away, leaving a purplish mark there. You nod in approval just before he slides his throbbing cock into your already tight walls. You let out a wail as he enters into you. He places a hand on your mouth and whispers into your ear. “Not here either.” Yes, you could be slightly louder here than at the house with Janet, but you still had to remember you were in public. You nodded as he continued to slide inside you. You dug your nails into his bare thigh, which only caused him moan more.

Once he was fully inside you, he started thrusting into your hips, fucking you into the hard, rocky, cold concrete below. It definitely wasn’t your ideal setting, but you were gonna take what your could get. His hands moved back underneath your breasts and eventually unhooked your bra. He squeezed one boob with one hand and moved the other underneath your back for more support. Then, he moved his lips back to yours, letting your both release your stifled sounds into each other. It only helped you feel more like you were a part of him. Letting your moans into his mouth as his grunts entered yours. As his thrusts began to speed up, you moved your other hand to his tricep to squeeze for leverage. The deeper into you he went, the more you could feel the heat sink lower into your body. God, you had just started and you were already about to finish. You could sense he was about to also though, with the way his thrusts got messier and his kisses more desperate. 

Everything became so overwhelming to you. You knew he wasn’t going to want to cum before you did, but on the other hand, you didn’t necessarily want to be the first one either. So you stifled the urge by biting down onto his lips. Your lips eventually moved down to his jawline and explored down his neck, until you found the perfect place to begin sucking. His moans into your ear only brought your closer to your brink. Eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore. “G-god Kang I-I’m s-s-sorry, I-I have t-t-to do it-t.” You said, eyes welling up. “Sh-hhhh it-s-s ok. Do it if-f y-you need t-to.” He said quietly into your ear. Suddenly, you let go of everything. You felt the white heat escape your body all at once as it wrapped around Kang’s cock and leaked out of you. You felt yourself relax as Kang began to tense up even more. You moved your hand from his thigh to his cheek and began to rub it with your thumb. “It’s ok, you can do it.” You said tiredly. He closes his eyes, nods, and releases his cum into you. His orgasm takes over his body as he moves his hands to your hips and digs his fingers into them. You both moan as his cum enters your body. 

You both breath heavily once he’s finished and he begins to exit you. He reaches for his underwear and pants before stopping himself. He looks over at you, then grabs your shorts and underwear and helps you put them on before putting on his own. You smile slightly at the kind gesture and help him put on his after you’ve finished with yours. You check your jacket pocket to make sure the money is still inside. Once your hands find it, you take a deep sigh, still disappointed in yourself for making the trade in the first place. Kang notices this and intertwines his fingers into your hand. You look up at him and he smiles at you as he leads you out into the street. You suddenly find yourself doing the last thing you would expect from yourself.

Forgiving him. 

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NEXT PART

A/N: so…hi….its been a minute! again, so sorry for the delay, but if im being honest, i kinda work better when im posting sporadically so yeah dont expect a set schedule for me posting. but yeah i didnt really proofread this chapter cause i wanted to get it out asap so dont judge. but yeah we’ll see where it goes from here lol byeeee.

[andy-wandy]

i remember his hands - chapter 2

PAIRING: kang the conqueror x fem!reader

SUMMARY: after a scientific experiment goes horribly wrong, you've been transported to the quantum realm and have been stuck there for the past decade. with no company, aside from janet van dyne, your life changes forever when a mysterious man in a golden ship crash lands next to your settlement. startled with his initial presence, you two have a rocky start. but as time goes on, you two find each other slowly drawn to one another. you have secrets though, and he has a past he refuses to bring up. can you two make it through navigating an unknown world together, discovering any ulterior motives, and stand the test of time in a place where time has no meaning at all?

INFO: slow burn, kinda enemies to lovers????, takes place during that little flashback janet has during quantumania, idk how accurate this is gonna be to canon stuff cause i get very confused about the quantum realm lol, reader is in mid to late 20s while kang is in his “early 30s” (ik he like technically doesn't age or whatever idk the lore but i just made it accurate to jonathan majors age and wanted to give an accurate age range/gap/count), y/n will be very fleshed out like i'm gonna give her everything lol

WARNING: bl00d mention, explicit language (both swearing and ig sexually)

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 2.9k

NOTES: i just now realized the summary said y/k this whole time instead of y/n, i knew something looked off lmao 😭 just ignore that lol. also if you guys want me to make a taglist, just lmk in the comments and if you want me to tag you or not

PREVIOUS PART

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To your surprise, you opened your eyes to find yourself alive in your bed. Your head throbbed in a sharp, piercing pain. You looked into the mirror that sat in front of your bed to examine your facial injuries. You had a bandage wrapped around the right side of your head. As you went to touch the place where the rock was smashed into, you winced from the pain as it shot into your head. It wasn’t as deep of an injury as you thought it would be, but it wasn’t doing you much good either. You also noticed a bruise on your left upper cheekbone, very quickly growing into a black eye. You assumed it was from when the man tackled you into the creek. You moved down to your throat area to find two dark purple bruises on the front side of your neck. Other than those injuries and a couple of scratches on your arms and knees, you figured you were in better shape than your attacker. You wondered what ended up happening to him. If you were here alive, it meant he probably survived too. Left out there, he was probably finished off by roaming mites. Either way, it wasn’t your problem anymore.

You hear a knock at the door. “Come in”, you struggle to get out, a spiky pain going down your throat after you the words escape your mouth. Janet opens the door and walks over to your bed with a glass of water and some more bandages. “Yeah that sounds as bad as I thought it would be. Whoever caused those neck bruises was really trying to kill you”, she replied, sitting down next to you on the edge of the bed. “Really? I thought the bloody dent in my head would be more of a giveaway”, you sarcastically reply in pain. You got a small chuckle out of her. “Even a near death experience couldn’t take away your wonderful sense of humor”, she jokingly replied. You smiled at her remark. Janet went to unravel the bandage on your head. You grimaced as she tried to rip off the parts that were dried on by the blood. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine”, she said after noticing the expression on your face. “You’re a tough girl. One of the strongest people I’ve met.” A slight smile crept onto your face. She dipped a cloth into the bowl of water, then started to dab it onto the wound. As much as the process of getting to it sucked, you enjoyed moments like these with Janet. You know, even though finding you out there bleeding out from your head probably almost scared her to death, that she enjoyed them too. You took a sip of water from the glass she gave you, which improved your throat pain significantly. Once she finished cleaning your head, she wrapped another bandage around the wound. “Alright, I’m fixing up some breakfast for you in the kitchen. If you need anything, just ring this.” She placed a little bell on your nightstand as she gathered her stuff to leave.

After failed attempts to fall back asleep, you decided to head out to the kitchen to help Janet. You gently placed your legs over the edge of the bed and slowly stood up. You slightly limped over to the mirror to assess yourself again. Your head looked slightly better with the change in bandages, but the bruise on your cheekbone had now fully turned into a black eye. You winced as you placed your fingers on the swollen area around the bone. The bruises on your neck had stayed about the same size as the last time you saw them. You rolled up your pant legs to find two bandaged gashes on your right knee, most likely from the tackle as well. You slowly turned and hobbled towards the door to walk into the kitchen. You made your way across the hallway of the cabin into the kitchen and living room (it was more of just a little kitchenette with a couch in it). You rubbed your eyes to adjust to the fluorescent lighting of the room. As you opened your eyes again, you could hardly believe what you saw going on by the couch.

Janet was kneeling on the floor next to couch, tending to the same man who tried to kill you. She was cleaning up a cut he had on his left tricep, as he laid there shirtless on the couch. Your heart sunk as your eyes laid on him. He was still unconscious, but the thought of your attempted killer being in the the same house as you made you nauseous with fear. “Janet!” you whisper yelled at her, half from the fear of waking him up and half from the pain still in your throat. She didn’t turn around. You yelled again. She rolled her eyes as she finished changing the bandage and walked over to you. “What is he doing here?” you asked like she was insane. “I couldn’t just leave him there to become mite food y/n”, she truthfully replied. “Uh, yes. Yes, you very well could have. You are aware of the fact that he almost killed me, right?” you asked, still concerned the situation wasn’t getting through to her. “Yes I am, and that’s exactly why I brought him here.” All you could do in response to hearing her say that was nervously laugh. “Listen to me y/n, I’ve been here for much longer than you have. So I know for a fact that when people arrive here, it’s either from some extremely fucked up accident, or for a very important purpose. I believe he’s here due to the latter. We need to keep him alive to find out that purpose, alright?” she snapped at you. You hadn’t seen this side of her much, so whenever you did, you knew she meant it. You nodded in response. “Alright” she said as she took a deep breath “Now help me with breakfast.”

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He could see the bright white lights seeping in from his eyelids as he slowly opened his eyes. As he regained consciousness, he immediately felt shooting pains in his shoulder, abdomen, and foot. His groaning caught Janet’s attention as she walked over to where he was with damp cloth. He tried to move back slightly, but if he moved any more, the pain would get worse or he would probably fall off the couch, which was definitely too small for him to lay horizontally on it. Janet looked at him for a consenting look before taking the cloth to the right of his abdomen. He hesitantly nodded. He groaned through the stinging pain of the water mixing with the bloody wound. “I’m surprised you were still alive by the time I got you inside. This one right here should’ve had you dead within the first three minutes of getting bit” Janet said to break the silence. “W…Where am I?” he asked tiredly. “My cabin. I’ll tell you the rest of it when you’re awake enough to pay attention to what I’m telling you.” Janet placed her hands on his back once she noticed he was trying to sit up. He cried out in pain through his teeth as he tried to sit normally. “Woah, woah, woah, I don’t think you’re ready for that yet”, Janet said concerned. “No time”, he said between short breaths. “Need to get back to the sh-.”

He cut himself off when he saw you standing by the kitchen counter, your back to him and you head lowered. He kept his eyes on you for a bit and examined your frame, trying to understand how someone as small as you could reduce him to this. You could feel his eyes on you, like a laser burning into your back. The longer the moment went on, the more you wanted to take the knife nearest to you and finish the job you started. After what felt like hours, he finally turned his face back to Janet. Being able to tell what he was going to say next, she said “She lives here with me. And before you ask, no she isn’t going anywhere. And until you fully heal, you aren’t leaving either.” Janet turned to face both of you. “And until that time happens, I need you two to try to not kill each other. Alright?” You reluctantly nodded your head. He did the same. “Ok good.” Janet finished with his abdomen wound and walked over to you in the kitchen. “I’m going into town for a bit to get some more medical supplies, so I’m going to need you to finish with his shoulder and foot” she told you, already noticing the horrified look creeping onto your face. Your heart sunk and your eyes widened hearing her say that. “Janet, no, there’s no way. You leave me here alone and there is no doubt he’ll kill me” you whispered quite enough so he wouldn’t hear. Janet pulled you outside with her to talk. “Listen, I know you don’t trust him and I don’t entirely either, but have you seen him? It would take a miracle for him to get up right now and charge at you again. Plus, I need you to try to get information on him while I’m gone, ok?” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “Ok.” “Thank you.” Janet gave you a little peck on your forehead. “I’ll be back soon.” She started walking off into the distance. With Janet’s good luck kiss, you turned to the door to walk inside. As you went to turn the doorknob, you noticed your hand slightly shaking. You took one last deep breath to calm yourself before walking inside.

You walked inside, determined not to make eye contact with him the entire time. Once you got to the kitchen counter, you could already feel his eyes on you again. You could’ve sworn he had some kind of laser eye power, because you could feel yourself getting hotter with each passing second. It was almost paralyzing how it made you feel. “Could you stop that please?” you finally said, hoarsely. You heard a slight chuckle from him. “Sounds like I did a number on you after all. Not good enough though, since you’re still walking” he replied in a rich, slightly menacing tone. It was enough to send a slight shiver down your spine. You could hardly believe Janet trusted him enough to not kill you. You took yet another deep breath, and grabbed the bowl of water, a sewing needle and thread, a roll of bandages, and a damp cloth. You still avoided eye contact, but out of your peripherals, you could see he was still staring at you. What you couldn’t tell though, was if he was slightly smirking or not. 

You placed the bowl down on the ground and you sat right in front of his foot. You reached to unravel the bandage wrapping his left foot, but he moved it away. You sighed. You knew exactly what he was doing. Giving in to what he wanted, you finally make eye contact with him. His eyes were just as sharp and full of anger as they were when he first punched you in the chest. “Please don’t move. This will be easier for both of us if you stay still”, you say to break the tension. You go back to his foot to unwrap it, but he moves it yet again. You huffed to yourself and turned back to him. “Listen, I know you’re upset with me over the arrow, and I’m sorry. My intention wasn’t to hit you. But I have every right to be mad at you as well. Now I know you don’t want me here, but I hate to break it to you, you’re stuck with me until Janet gets back. Now can you please hold your foot in place so I can take off this god damn bandage!” you yelled as loud as your injured throat let you. You must have turned red or something because you noticed a smirk slightly tug on his lips. He moved his foot in front of you. “Thank you”, you remark, turning away from him again. 

You unravel the bandage to find Janet already stitched up the wound on his foot. That made things easier for you at least. You took the damp towel and dabbed it on the wound. You couldn’t believe you were here, cleaning the wounds of the same man who just tried to kill you. Apparently he couldn’t believe it either, since his eyes were still locked onto you. You finished applying the water and wrapped his foot back up. You moved over to his shoulder next. You were much closer to him now, forcing you to have to take looks at him. It was the same expression every time though. Anger, mixed with annoyance, mixed with a hint of fascination. You unraveled this bandage. This was the one Janet hadn’t gotten to yet. You figured this would give you a chance to redeem yourself though, fixing up the wound you gave him. You kneeled in front of his shoulder with the threaded needle and stuck it into the wound. As soon as you put it in, the man clenched his teeth and groaned in pain. He wiped his face with his hands in anguish. 

You pulled the needle through the skin, and at some point you must have hit a specific spot, because his hand shot down and took hold of your thigh to hold as leverage. Butterflies flooded into your stomach as he squeezed your thigh with every pull of the needle and thread. You looked down and took notice of his hand once again. Noticing how big it was, how tense it would get, and whether he did it with intention or not, how he would occasionally trace his thumb across you clothed skin. Once previously around your throat, now seizing your thigh and tightening its grip with every movement of the needle. You felt your cheeks getting brighter with each tighten. Part of you thought he was doing this to fuck with you, but the looks you saw on his face proved you otherwise. 

Being this close allowed you to take notice of all his facial features now. From his plump lips, to the two identical scars running down his face. You knew they had to have some sort of story behind them, but you decided to ask another time. You were unable to reach a certain spot on the inner part of his shoulder, so you sat up slightly to move more into him to reach it. This is when it hit you how close you two were. Feeling his hot breaths on your cheek, hearing his slight moans and groans of pain, and now with the movement of his hand from on top of your thigh to your sensitive inner thigh. You were embarrassed to admit the combination of everything made you slightly wet. You had to use your spare hand to push two pieces of his skin together that were too far apart for the needle to get in naturally. As you pushed, he moved his right hand to grab yours. Now that it was touching your bare skin, you could fully appreciate the feel of his skin on yours. You felt how rough it was as the calluses on his hands slightly scratched against your knuckles. 

You finished up and closed the wound and started dabbing it with the damp towel with the same hand that was holding the needle. He still hadn’t moved either of his hands, his moans and groans now turned into short pants. You sat there for a second, embarrassed with how comfortable you suddenly were with him. Part of that embarrassment also went towards how wet his hand being on your upper inner thigh made you. “Are you ok?” you asked, having to say something in fear of what you would do if you just stayed like this. He nodded slightly. He opened his eyes after having them shut from the pain and looked into yours again. Only this time, they weren’t filled with anger. You couldn’t tell what look this one was. Maybe weakness from his pain. Maybe wonder. Maybe…. After clearing his throat, he finally took his hand off of yours. Then, almost as if he were teasing you at this point, he dragged his hand off your inner thigh agonizingly slow, finger by finger. Cheeks flushed and stifling the noise you felt building up in your throat, you grabbed your materials and moved them over to the kitchen counter and made your way back to your room without saying another word. “Wait”, you heard him call out. You popped your head out from behind the hallway corner and stood there waiting for what he was going to say.

“What’s your name” he asked softly.

“Y/N” you hesitantly answered.

“...I’m sorry for earlier y/n.”

“I’m sorry too…” you signaled to him for his name.

“Kang.”

“I hope you heal well, Kang.”

“You too.”

You walked back over to your room, using whatever self control you had to stifle any feeling that might have been awoken in those moments.

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NEXT PART

A/N: dude i dont think you understand how much i enjoyed writing that HJFHJF. there will be more to come soon dw. but i hope you enjoyed this chapter (this took up 9 google doc pages lmao) since shit actually happened lmao. as regarding whenever chapter 3 comes out, it might take a little while since the ideas for the preview-chapter 2 came to me super quick, im still thinking about what direction chapter 3 will take. It shouldn’t take any longer than a week, but please just be patient. thank you for reading!

[andy-wandy]

am i the only person who finds fanfics with real celebrities like...really weird and invasive. especially the smut ones. like whatever ig but it just feels weird and uncomfortable

[andy-wandy]

me when i didn't think my pedro pascal obsession could get worse than it was last year

then i realize the last of us AND the mandalorian come out this year.

[andy-wandy]

Hello MTDblrs!

This account is the shared account between a group of Close goons, jabronis and brochacos in a discord server based around musical theatre - the server name being MUSICAL THEATRE?!?!, hence MTD - musical theatre discord! The server was created on the 6th September, 2022 by Fyo!

As cringe as it may be, this server is very close to each of the server members’ hearts, and the majority of us met inside the server, so we decided to turn it into a tumblr blog - because what better place to be utterly insane with your best friends than tumblr?

MTDers (who are on this account) include:

Annie 🌒

Andy🕸️

Basil 🌿

Buddy 💥

Finch 🦖

Sunny 🔆

Theora 🌺

Yuri ❄️

[andy-wandy]

The reason Goncharov (1973) is such a hit is because it allows Tumblr to unironically participate in its national sport:

Lying