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bluesidez · 7 months ago

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Can I request a Miguel O'Hara x Curvy reader where they both get intoxicated from sex pollen ??

[Sticky-Icky]

lab taster: @waterinthefire 🩻

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Curvy!Reader

summary: He's a lot less irritating when he puts his mouth to better use.

content warning: a PWP but you guys know me (there's a little plot), this is so 18+ that it's crazy so MDNI, sex pollen (or more like Miguel is playing around and doesn't know wtf he's doing), unprotected p in v sex (WRAP IT UP 🫵🏾) manhandling, temperature play if you squint, standing 69, facefucking, creampies, wrong use of webs, biting, breeding, spitting, squirting, cunnilingus, fellatio, fluff if you squint...I think that's it. my god.

word count: 4.3k, halfway proofread

a/n: Listening to Sticky by Ravyn Lenae inspired part of this. Also watching several episodes of Kitchen Nightmares, Hell’s Kitchen, and Law & Order: SVU in the bg kept me sane. And one more rewatch of ATSV.

My duty as a fanfic writer is fulfilled as I give you this mandatory trope. 🫡

When you first started working at Spider HQ, you were amazed by the fact that one man was able to create all of this.

It was astounding, beyond what the gray tones of Nueva York could ever present to you.

Now, you think back to your glittering eyes during the first year working here and laugh.

Working for Miguel O’Hara was like squeezing a watermelon through a straw. He was impossible.

Nothing you did was ever satisfactory for him. Something could always be fixed. Sometimes, you wonder why he still kept you employed here.

Currently, he was turning his nose up at a salve you were working on for spiders whose healing time wasn’t nearly as quick as others.

“Run a new test. This batch is no good.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“The formula could be better, it’s too thick, and why does it smell like that?”

The scent was similar to one you wore often and a lot of the spider-people that swung by the pharmacy seemed to like it.

“Uh, jade tea.”

The pinch in Miguel’s eyebrows deepened as he sniffed the air.

“Switch it to something else.”

You huffed, already tired of this conversation, “Well, what smell do you suggest?”

“Anything but this.”

“How about lavender, then? Perhaps peppermint.”

“And now, you’re being childish,” Miguel put the tin down before placing his hands on his hips. “You know there’s spider-people who can’t smell too much of that.”

“Yeah, I got it.”

He plopped a giant file on your desk, “Deal with that later. I need you to work on something else. For some reason, villains across dimensions are obtaining access to a substance similar to rapture. Every time there’s a mission, the spider-person of that dimension has been left affected. I need something to subside the effects until we can get them back here.”

“Ok, well do you have the substance with you?”

“No. But I’ll get you something soon. For now, I have a year’s worth of research on rapture. It should be of some use.”

You took the rubber band off of the manilla folder, something so old school for this era of tech.

You saw a line of formulas that started to make your head spin.

“Are there a lot of people affected right now?”

“Only a few. They’ve used the leftover solution I made a long time ago. It’s only going to work for so long,”

“Good. I need to sleep on this.”

Miguel’s head knocked back an inch, “Are you refusing work? The state of the heroes of different universes relies on this research. It’s not some science project-“

“I understand completely, Miguel, but I’m off the clock.”

He stopped and checked his watch, the red six o’clock burning back on him.

“I only work the hours you pay me, Spidey,” you reach to pat his arm and regret it when his stern face doesn’t move.

“Not interested in paid overtime?”

You bit your cheek to stop the laugh from coming out.

“That’s nice and all, but I’ve got plans.”

“Like what?”

“Like resting, sleeping, not touching lab work with a you-sized pole. All of these are things you aren’t familiar with. Plus, I have a date.”

A pause went through the room as you started to gather your things.

“Since when do you date?”

You push your chair under your desk harder than you mean to, “Since when do you care?”

“I,” he follows to the elevator, “care about my employees.”

“Sure, Miguel.”

If it weren’t for your tired state, you would think he looks a little sad at your statement.

“See you tomorrow, then?”

The doors start to close as you nod your head, Miguel’s gaze stuck just above your head.

Weird. Just like his frequent stops to your lab.

The feeling doesn’t leave your gut even as you’re smiling in your date’s face.

One minute, you’re laughing at a story about some amateur skateboarders Downtown, and the next, an electric billboard is being covered in tiny nano-spiders across the street.

“So the guy just takes one step on the board and then he’s flying. A straight line across the park.”

“That’s,” the spiders start to crawl into different lines. Then a logo forms, displaying the spider on Miguel’s suit next to an exclamation point. “So hilarious.”

Your date chuckles then follows your gaze, the silence too long, “Is there something wrong?”

The nano-spiders flipped around, the regular billboard showing like normal. You squint.

“No, I thought I saw something. Must have been my imagination.”

“You did say you were a little tired from work. Should we raincheck? We can always catch a movie another time.”

You wanted to say no, you’d been looking forward to tonight.

The billboard flickered to a little picture of Lyla with “SOS” above her head.

“Yeah, I should probably get going. Sorry about this.”

The way he doesn’t sweat you practically ditching him makes your heart pang. You’re already dreading another night exhausted and alone. Your date seemed promising.

You wave at him from your taxi, the route leading back to Spider HQ feeling like torture. You unclasp your purse and check your gizmo.

40 missed messages.

It’s not until you’re walking into the regular lobby that you turn it on.

“What is so important that you waste Margo’s time to interrupt my time?”

Lyla pops in your peripheral, hands up and wary, “I’m only doing what boss asks! Don’t get mad at me.”

“Lyla, why am I back here right now?”

“Well, Miguel has gotten himself in some particular trouble.”

You punch the elevator button, “Get to the point, please.”

“He went into your lab to try and start the solution he talked about earlier. After his first accident, he’s never had any luck with lab work, so uh. He’s kind of made a mess.”

The elevator moves and you look at Lyla, “What kind of mess?”

The doors open and you can smell it before you see it.

It’s poignant, like perfume soaked roses and patchouli. The scent hits you hard enough to make you grip the metal opening as you come out.

“What exactly did he do?” you breathe out.

Your limbs start to shake, nerves drumming from the inside out. A weight feels like it landed on your core, your stomach twitching as you continued to take in whatever had transpired.

“Something about DNA splicing and plants. I can trace his movements back if you’d like, but I’m also currently trying to figure out how to reverse it.”

“Great.”

You swing open the door to a disheveled Miguel. He’s sweating profusely as he tries to clean up your lab desk.

Before you can even begin to yell he’s fussing, “Lyla, I told you not to call her!”

“But you obviously don’t know what you’re doing.”

He bites his lip as he tries not to look at you, fingers trembling as he starts to store materials back into their drawers.

“Thought you had a date.”

“And I thought I told you stay away from my station,” you feel like a baby deer walking over to him.

When you get closer he sucks in his breath like you cut him, stopping in his tracks.

“I don’t think you should be near me,” he grunts. His eyes are dark, lips swollen with the way he’s biting them.

“What are you talking about? I’m trying to help you.”

You round the corner of the desk, the image of you two almost comical. Miguel moves to the edge of the desk, chest moving faster, while you chase after him trying to get a hand on his forehead.

He felt extremely cold compared to the numbness of your palm, despite how flushed he looked. His eyes close as your hand slides from his head to his neck, muscles there tensing.

“Please. Don’t,” he whispers.

“Who else is coming here to save you?” you ask, frustrated. “What did you do anyway?”

He doesn’t answer as he peers at you. Your heart is beating faster and you can’t tell if it’s because of the air or because of the way he looks like he’s about to climb you.

Every move you made felt like sharp pricks in your skin, the tight material of your dress digging into your hips. It felt like the ends of burning flames and you wanted it off. Your breaths were picking up and you couldn’t quite comprehend what was going on other than Miguel being your cooling solution.

“Miguel,” you sounded like you ran a marathon when all you did was step into his space.

“It’s the shocking formula that I screwed up. That’s why everything feels-“

“Like I need you,” you interrupt. “Like I want you on top of me.”

The insides of your thighs were fighting against themselves to stay together, the urge to let your legs fall around him strong.

“That’s just the chemicals talking. W-we can get somewhere safe and separated.”

You grab the back of his neck and pull yourself even closer, his hands gripping the table like a lifeline as he groans.

“So you don’t want me?” you press against him, caging a knee around him right next to his hand. “You don’t think about me?”

You can almost feel his heartbeat matching yours as you pull yourself up.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t wonder how I feel when you come into my lab snooping around? How I feel when you come in here barking orders?”

Your face is in his neck and you feel yourself clench around nothing as you take a deep breath. He smells like coffee and fabric softener, but there’s an underlying wave of musk. Of something so unbelievably him and you want to keep that scent close forever.

“I imagine you’re annoyed. But a job is a job.”

“But you still come in here asking for things you know someone else can do,” your panties are soaked, and from the way his nose flares, you know he knows. “Why?”

His teeth grit as you start to grind on him, the feeling giving you an inch of relief that only makes you want more.

“I, I don’t- It’s because I,” the counter began to crack under his hands. His muscles were pulled taut. “Dios, ayúdame.”

Maybe you were wrong, and your hazy mind only brought thoughts from the subconscious one.

“Fine. I get that you don’t like me but could you at least give me some type of relief?” you were whining in his ears at this point, a complete 180 of how you left him earlier today. With every grind of your hips, you left noises in his skin, desperate.

The desk made a terrible sound as Miguel finally lets go and grabs around your waist. Your breath is slammed out of you as your back hits the wall, Miguel’s hand holding your head to stop it from crashing into the wall too.

Your throat makes a gargled sound as Miguel licks down your jaw, his talons ripping into your dress. His tongue swipes into your mouth, breaths rapid as he finally gets a taste.

“I do like you. More than I should,” his words were passed right into you. “You and your smart mouth.”

“Then stop talking and do something about it.”

A yank in your hair stops your complaints, Miguel kissing down your side. Every press of his lips left a chilly flutter. Your hips are moving frantically, patience wearing thin. Right as you’re about to say something again, he flips you, the layers of your dress falling as he rips into your panties.

The blood rushes to your head as he takes a bite into your thigh, sucking as your legs fall to his shoulders.

You moan his name, hands gripping at his thighs. His kisses led to your lips, swollen and dripping. From your clit to your entrance, he groaned as he covered you, drinking like you were water in the middle of the night.

You felt like you were going to slip, but Miguel’s arms were looped around your legs, not letting go. His suit was in your way, your mouth salivating as his crotch stared back at you. Your fingers could only dig as far as his suit allows and you have half a mind to call Lyla to disengage it.

“Please,” you sigh as you rub his bulge with your cheek. “I need it so bad.”

“Cállate,” he hums, face delving deeper into you. The sound of him licking up every drop echos off the cool walls and the light of his suit dims away letting you see what you’ve been waiting for.

His length hits your chin, precum spilling down and you’ve never been more excited for a man to go commando. You open your mouth and let your breath hit him as you take a swipe down to his balls.

Miguel’s grunts and shifts his hips back. His tip swerves around your face as he tries to find your mouth without unlatching his jaw from your sex. You help out with the last bit of sanity you have, and once you wrap your lips around him, his hips snap hard onto you.

All you can feel is Miguel entering you from top to bottom, his hands keeping you stationed in your position. There’s no room to do anything as he’s devouring you and taking your breath away at the same time. Two of his fingers sink into you, and you jerk from the difference between his skin and his tongue.

Miguel nibbles at the hood of your clit, urging you to be still. Whenever his fingers leave you, his pelvis fills your senses. Your throat gags around him, spit building to keep up with his thrusts.

“So good,” he hums. His pace picks up and the tears in your eyes fall to the floor. “Made for me. Only me.”

Your fingers wrap around his thighs and squeeze tight, your vision fading as you try to take in pockets of air. The shake in your legs and the broken moans that escaped your lips only ignited him.

“Bebé,” his hips stutter. He’s sloppy as he drools over the entrance, voice loud. “Bebé, you’re so, ngh.”

He cums down your throat, balls twitching against your face. You close your eyes and try to swallow everything, jaw aching. Miguel groans your name as he slides his dick out to the tip, a few spurts still landing on your lips. You cough, position making everything go north.

The taste of him was delicious, but you needed more of him elsewhere. Your mouth was as drenched as your cunt and yet you still felt empty.

When Miguel flips you back upright, you’re ready to pounce on him again. The state of you both is alarming. Your breasts have completely fallen out of your dress, that black thing barely holding on by its zipper. Miguel’s suit is phasing in and out in the most obscene places. There’s slick up to his eyebrows and his cum is all over your cheeks.

He grabs your jaw and runs his tongue over your face, cleaning up his mess. You let him live in his own bubble before that burning in your core came back.

Your nails dig into his shoulders and your whispers of “more” come to light. You’re clawing at him like a cat begging him to do something, anything, to make this feeling go away.

“Miguel,” you gasp as he sinks his teeth into your skin. “Miguel, it hurts. Fix it, Miggy, please.”

You guide his hands down your body and place them on your ass. His touch sates you for only a moment, but your body reacts as if he needs to be deep in your bones. He spreads your ass and groans as the sound of how eager you are for him follows.

“You’re not ready,” are the words that make you even more frustrated. Your hands pushing and pulling at him, ready to try and put him where you want him to go.

He clicks his teeth and flexes his wrists. His webs tie your wrists together, neon red strings leaving a buzz on your skin. He yanks your dress off and you stumble with the motions.

The clinical room doesn’t aid the building heat you feel, but Miguel turning you around and pressing you into the wall as he cuts the rest of your panties off does.

He squats and grabs two hands full of you.

He spits onto your hole, mesmerized as he watches it slide to your entrance. “Qué hermosa,” he whispers.

You bend, whimpering as your folds cover his nose, clenching and grinding.

“God,” you sigh. Something this small was going to bring you to the edge so quickly. “D-don’t stop.”

“Greedy,” Miguel says as if he’s not moving the fat of your ass to nudge his face into you. The arch in your back deepens as he continues and your whines get higher.

He smacks your right cheek, sound echoing off the metal tables, and you shout his name as you coat his tongue.

Tranquility clears your mind for a second, one where the flowery scent in the air is less strong.

The peace leaves just as fast as it came when Miguel gets rid of his suit and stands behind you in all of his glory.

His eyes followed from your dewey face to the curve of your hips to bitten thighs to feet with one heel still on.

“He didn’t deserve to see this,” he says.

“W-what?”

Miguel ignores you and pulls your wrists up straight, a confused noise leaving you. He wraps another web around your ankles and huffs. He sets your arms under your chest, your hands in front of you like a prayer.

When he picks you up by your waist, his dick lines up with your ass.

He groans as he grinds, watching himself disappear and reappear.

You try to move with him, “No, not there. Inside.”

“You’re always so distracting,” he growls. He slides his length between your thick thighs and you nearly scream as his hips hit your ass, his tip just barely passing over your clit. “Can never think straight when I see you.”

He rubbed over the bite he left on your shoulder, “So pretty. My pretty baby.”

His low voice right in your ears only made you wetter. He was holding you like you were his toy, fucking the inside of your thighs with ease.

Miguel could cry watching your ass bounce on his stomach. Your legs were soft and warm and he just couldn’t stop.

“Want you so bad. Need to fuck you again and again and again,” he said as your thighs quivered around him.

“Please, Miguel. Make me yours,” your voice crowded the sound of his grunts as he held you up and pounded away.

Those were the magic words to get him to lean back with a firm grip on you and release all over the wall. It was everywhere, from your legs to the wall to the ceiling.

He set you to the floor with shaky arms, and you started to sob.

All of this and you still wanted more. If this was making you feel this insane, you can only imagine the small relief Miguel was feeling after being exposed for longer.

“C’mere,” he pulls you to the bare floor and cuts the webs. You immediately try to climb him, legs wrapping around his waist.

He was painfully hard for someone who came twice now.

Your cries of “inside” slur together, tears running down your face. Miguel was no better, fangs dripping with venom and the hairs on skin raised.

The two of you tussle as Miguel tries to keep your hips to stay stationary. You kept jerking in order to get some sort of friction but he was baring his teeth to get you to quit.

You dip your nails into his shoulders and arms while he drags a talon down your sternum to snap your bra off.

A clatter of your stiletto sounds off across the room as he pinches your thigh, “Easy, beautiful. Let me take care of you, yeah?”

“Fucking hurry,” you whine.

He shushes as he plunges inside of you, the noise you both make as loud as a choir.

Your eyes roll back as Miguel presses, bending your body in half.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Miguel leans to whisper onto your lips.

Tight is the first thing that comes to mind and heat is the next.

He moves his hips up and slams back down, your ass shifting from the pressure.

“Miguel!”

“That’s it. Talk to me.” All of that chatter earlier and now you can barely get out a word.

“H-harder,” your hands don’t know where to go. They’re grabbing Miguel, they’re falling next to your head, they’re grabbing at your breasts as Miguel jerks your body.

Miguel goes to open your jaw, lips pulling on your tongue to suck. It’s tender and sensual compared to the way his balls are slapping against you. There’s a ring of white on his shaft getting thicker and thicker as he continues.

“Pretty thing,” he says as he lets your tongue go, a string of saliva falling to your neck. “Watched you on the cameras. Always.”

That stirs something in you, a spark in your chest as you see stars.

“Did you want to do this to me when you watched me?” you manage out.

“Yes.”

“I can put on a show for you next time.”

“Yes.”

“You can come in here. ‘N fuck me over the counter.”

“Sí, sí, baby,” his hands push your knees next to your head and he ruts against you. His thighs were straining as he took and took.

A yell pulls itself from your core, that burning feeling getting a crash of cold water. The dam bursts and you’re running all over Miguel, essence leaving every time he inches out and back in.

“Gonna fill you up,” he rasps, eyes glazed over.

You nod your head, clenching and pulsing around him.

His eyes don’t leave yours as he shudders against you. You suck him in, gaining a deep moan from him, “Así, bebé. Take it.”

It’s like you can finally think as his cum overflows, your heart rate finally slowing.

He stares at you as you both come back to reality. Your body is limp, the weight of Miguel making itself known.

“Holy shit,” you wiggle and he catches the hint. He lifts a bit and pulls out. The swirl of you two falls out of you in waves. “What. The fuck.”

“God,” Miguel mumbles. “No shocking way we just did that.”

“You can’t say that when the evidence is leaking out of me.”

Miguel groans as he watches you, your face pouty and your hole glistening. It was intoxicating.

His dick twitches, coming to life again the longer he watches.

“‘M sorry in advance,” he says as he pulls you into his lap.

“Just take care of it, O’Hara.”

The two of you sat in the middle of the floor, breathing hard. Pieces of consciousness were starting to come back.

“You looked stunning tonight,” Miguel said. He looked at your shredded dress on the floor. “I’m glad he won’t see you in that dress anymore.”

The snort that leaves your nose turns into a full-blown laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“You just took my soul ten times over and you’re worried about a guy I just met less than a week ago. I fear I’m ruined for anyone else.”

“Oh,” he smiles. “Good.”

“You still should take me on a date. You’ve got a lot to explain.”

Flashes of him confessing to his habit of watching you from afar come back, “O-of course.”

“And you owe me a new dress.”

“On it.”

Lyla pops up next to you both, a blindfold over her shades, “Is it safe to talk to you guys now?”

Miguel checks his gizmo, “I think we’re good for about forty minutes. The effects are starting to wear off.”

“Excellent!” She throws the fabric to the side, “Oh my god, this room is a mess.”

You look at the array of substances over the room and grimace. The entire hall will have to be on lockdown.

“Well, I managed to vent out the solution. You two should be ok soon.”

You lean on Miguel’s chest and close your eyes, happy to hear good news.

“Kind of sad that this is what it took for you to confess, Miguel,” she comments.

“Lyla!”

You laugh again, “Some confession.”

“That’s enough,” Miguel scowls.

Your giggles die down as you pull yourself onto Miguel’s thigh, bubbles in your chest molding into moans as you start to grind over his thigh.

“I’m starting to think you guys are just bluffing,” Lyla gags before she disappears. “Let me know when you’re done.”

“I think,” you nuzzle into his neck, “this’ll be the last time. I’m tired.”

“If not, we can take it to my house.”

The world blurs again as you and Miguel connect under the white lights.

Take a shot every time I say breath or breathe 😭. Anywho, as always, if you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and COMMENT!

1K notes · View notes

messylustt · 2 years ago

Text

౨ৎ ‧˚

𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥) — 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬

miguel o’hara x fem!reader. 1.3k words

fic masterlist pt one next part

i’ve gotten some help with my spanish and have approved/fixed accordingly (if you have any suggestions on the spanish please speak up!); enemies to lovers trope; not obvious, but subtle jealous miguel; human(not spider-person)!reader; spanish term of endearment ‘chaparrita’ — miguel o’hara has never liked you—a human—joining the team as the ‘person in the chair’. he’s made his distaste for you clear. but when he speaks certain spanish words you don’t understand, he reveals that his annoyance of you is by the fact that you make him feel ‘hot’. soon, a deal surfaces, his promotion benefitting you both.

Miguel watches as you fiddled with the different tech machines, tapping with a focused gaze. He tilted his head, staying by the large spider, having spread out screens filled with the many mission's info.

He had a slight scowl on his face, his expression usually one considered moody. But this time he had a reason for it. You.

You were a pain to Miguel, far too nice to every spider-person. He hadn't liked having you here the moment a few of them recommended you. They described you as the 'person in the chair'. You were smart, sure, but Miguel didn't think you belonged here. You weren't a spider-person like the rest of them, you were human.

He jumped down, landing beside you. You look to your left, having to tilt your head up at his sheer height. You gulp. You've always been nervous around Miguel O'hara. You didn't think he once smiled, his gaze only seeming to harden, especially when you would speak.

So, you kept it minimal. Only talking to him when it was required. "O'hara." You nod, turning quickly back to your work. "Anything I can help you with?"

"Nothing you can help with, y/l/n." His small jab at your inability in many areas, such as swinging from buildings with web, made you straighten your spine.

You ignore his tone, again not daring to meet his gaze. "Then, I'm sure Jessica will be here soon to help with anything."

Miguel's eyes wander your stiff posture. He could tell that he made you nervous, and part of him relished in that. It helped him think that you knew your place.

When you noticed that he wasn't leaving, you go to say something else, when Hobie and Peter burst into the room. Both yours and Miguel's attentions shift. Hobie easily moves towards you, making you smile. He reached his hand out as you did what many would call a typical 'bro handshake'. But Hobie instead chose to call something far from normality, in his prominent british accent.

Hobie was one of the ones who recommended you for this job. And you've been beyond grateful since.

"How's ya bloody borin’ shit goin’?" Hobie asks, leaning down to see whatever nonsense you had typed up.

"Describe 'boring shit'." You say, your tone turning smug.

He scoffs, eyeing the screen again, before giving up and grabbing your chin to turn back to the tech. "Keep working."

You chuckle, just as Miguel speaks. "Aren't you supposed to be out?"

Hobie looks to Miguel, straightening his guitar strap. "What—should I start callin’ ya boss, and kissin’ ya boots?"

Hobie has always been one to 'do his own thing' and completely bypass the rules. Miguel looks unimpressed, as Hobie holds his hands up in fake innocence. Peter chimes in. "He doesn't wear boots."

Hobie glances at him. "Thanks Peter. I didn't know."

Peter doesn't have time to respond before he's running after his swinging daughter. "Just get back to work." Miguel says. "That includes you, Peter. And didn't I say not bring her here?" He sounds exasperated, as he pinches the bridge between his nose.

You spin in your seat watching as Peter sends back a 'sorry', as he disappears, running through the large exit door. Hobie is quick to follow sending you a nod and a smile.

You wave them off, feeling the tension flood back into the room now that it's just you and Miguel again. You swiftly spin back in your chair, your fingers going back to tapping, as your legs spread comfortably.

Miguel looks back at you, before running his hand down his face, muttering. "No abras las piernas como una invitación." (Don't open your legs like an invitation.)

You pause, glancing at him. "What was that?"

He glances back at you, eyeing your confused expression. You, of course, didn't know spanish.

He places his hands against the desk, leaning a fraction closer to you, his gaze fluttering across your features. "Podría decirte cualquier cosa en español y no sabrías lo que quiero decir." (I could say anything to you in Spanish and you wouldn't know what I mean.)

"You know I don't know spanish." You mutter.

"I know. And the thought of you being so unaware, makes me want to tell you..." He leans closer to your ear, making your pulse beat rapidly. "....cuanto me haces arder, cariño. (how much you make me burn inside.) And it’s beyond annoying.”

You sigh, pushing slightly away from him. "Look, I know you find me annoying." You begin. "That's fine. But just...can you at least give me somewhat of a chance?"

"Do to what?" He asks, crossing his arms, as he leans back against the desk.

"To prove I'm helpful."

"Helpful?" Miguel asks, tilting his head. "You want to be helpful?"

"Of course."

"Then find a more suitable job." He stands to walk away.

"If you want me gone, then why don't you fire me?"

He pauses for a moment. "Sadly, I need a proper reason for that. So, if you want to be helpful to me. Then fuck something up."

"But while you're here being useless you should probably learn spanish." Miguel says as he walks out the door.

You huff, staring after him, watching as his back muscles contracted in a way that made you look away, gulping. Fucking Miguel O'hara.

;;

You sit, feet up by the tech, as you tapped away on your phone. You got a congratulatory 'ding' whenever you got a word or sentence right, and a rather loud 'booing' sound when you got a word or sentence wrong.

Yes, you're trying to learn Spanish. You sadly hadn't remembered word for word what Miguel had said to you, so you couldn't put it through translation. He must have purposefully spoken fast so you wouldn't have time to catch each word and remember.

'Me gusta ir al museo.' Your phone spoke. It translated to 'I like going to the museum' You had gotten it wrong, putting ‘park’ instead.

You groan, your head knocking back as your eyes shut in annoyance. You were only smart in certain areas. You let your phone drop to the desk, as you stretch, keeping your eyes shut tight, as if you could find the Spanish language hidden behind them.

"Spanish?" A deep voice spoke, making you jump, swiftly getting to your feet and spinning.

Miguel stands in his signature spider suit, your phone in his grasp. "I didn't think you'd actually listen to me."

You snatch it back, switching it off, as you scratch the back of your neck. "I was just..." You drift off sighing. "I like this job."

Miguel watches you closely. "You're committed, I'll give you that."

You smile, the word 'progress' swirling in your brain. "I learnt a sentence." You say, brows creasing in remembrance. "Me gusta...ir al...musio?" (I like going...to the...musio?) You say this more so as a question as you meet the amused gaze of Miguel.

"Ir al museo." (To the museum) He corrects, knowing the generic 'hobbies' sentences most kids learn.

"…I was close." You say, smiling, before you realise who you're talking to, your nerves returning.

Miguel nearly kicked himself for feeling warm at the small smile that you gave. You were trying to learn spanish—loosely—for him. "Can I make you a deal?" He suddenly asks.

You narrow your eyes a fraction. "What kinda deal?"

"One where we can help each other." He mutters, stepping closer. "You want to stay, correct?"

You nod.

"Then you're gonna have to convince me that you'd do anything for a mission."

You straighten, eyes widening at the chance to prove your worth. "I lead most missions, so loosely, you'd have to do anything for me."

He's much, much closer, eyeing you. "But we can make this a ‘give and take’. Let me teach you Spanish—something you'll need working here, close by me, and in return for every lesson, you have to do something for me."

You eye him. "Like what?"

"Anything." He answers. "Because you'll have to do anything that's required for those missions. Call it practice, or proving your worth, chaparrita."

You lick your lips thinking. You can't see anything inherently wrong with this 'deal', so you nod. And that earns you the very first smile you've seen from Miguel O’hara.

i know this is short, but I just wanted to see if any of you guys would be interested in a full fic like this…

also if you would like to be in a taglist for this story — just comment

#the miguel effect #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara across the spider-verse #miguel o'hara #across the spider-verse #across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #atsv #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara one shot #Spider-Man-2099 #spiderman 2099 #marvel #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader

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sunsburns · 18 days ago

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hiii just recently discovered you on tumblr and ever since ca:bnw came out ive been a die hard fan of joaquin. i read forget it and im absolutely blown away by youre writing!! would you consider doing a college au joaquin sports player x reader? (i havent read all your works yet so im not sure if youve done it yet 😅)

but thank youuu for dropping the most scrumptious written joaquin fics. followed and sending lots of love

jen this is soo wowow i love this thought cause there's probably an alternate universe where joaquín didn't join the military and went pro.

like he's walking around with the miami football merch all the time so it's not too far for a reach. but let's imagine were there. yk? he'd probably play as a wide receiver, tight end, or running back, just because of his physique and because he seems to be a fast guy, quick on his feet and good with working under pressure and making fast decisions. so, he plays a forward position, probably got a scholarship, his entire four years paid for by the district, because this kid's got talent and he's quite a charmer too.

funnily enough, you met him through a computer science/web engineering class rather than in the field. and you're paired together for a project, and let's be honest, when you first met the guy, you were a little apprehensive to work with him. he's one of the louder students in class, sometimes late because his practice ran later than usual, but you had to admit, he was smart and really good with tech.

it was a pleasant surprise. you were supposed to meet at the library at 4:00. he showed up at 4:02 with a smoothie in one hand and his backpack half-zipped, curls damp from practice, still in his compression shirt like he’d run straight from the locker room to be there. “sorry i’m late,” he said, all sunshine and dimples. “figured you might like mango.” and yeah, okay, maybe you were already halfway to melting by then.

he wears his jersey on campus like it’s stitched to his skin. you see him in it every day—number 14, TORRES printed bold across his broad back—but it hits differently when he drapes it over your shoulders after a game. still warm from him. still smells like sweat and gatorade and something that makes your stomach flutter.

he tells you it’s yours now. you don’t argue.

#i really like this idea it's so cute and it gives me something to hope on while i'm in school #faye’s writing ⭑.ᐟ #joaquín torres #joaquín torres x reader #joaquin torres #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x you #joaquin torres imagine #joaquin torres fluff #joaquin torres fic #joaquin torres fanfiction #the falcon #the falcon x reader #joaquín torres smut #joaquin torres smut #joaquín’s wings

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thealtoduck · 1 year ago

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Greedy

Peter Parker x Male Black Cat!Reader

Warnings: Smut, semi-angsty, top!Reader, bottom!Peter, friends with benefits, unprotected sex, rough sex, anal sex, fingering, doggy style, spanking, you cry after sex, calling Peter a whore, slut, etc…

Male Black Cat!Reader: Masterlist

Summary: After a failed robbery you’re pissed of so Peter helps you release some frustration…

——

You shot your grappling hook and swung yourself to another building closely followed by Spider-Man. He’d been able to keep up with you a lot better than usual, having learned to avoid your regular tricks and traps.

”You’ve gotten better at this!” you called out to the superhero chasing you. You jumped the gap to another building. Suddenly a web caught your arm pulling it back making you lose balance and fall hitting the rooftop floor.

You felt a pain in your leg as you quickly tried standing back up. Spider-Man swung right over your head and landed in front of you. ”Or maybe you’ve just gotten slow” he teased, the two of you then engaged in combat.

You slashing at him with your claws and him doing his best to block and dodge your attacks. Once he went on the offensive you ducked his quick strong jabs. Spider-Man noticed the leg you fell on was shaky as you avoided his punches.

He used this to his advantage and did a sweep with his leg knocking you to the ground, it was usually by now you found some gadget or distraction to give yourself a chance to escape. Spider-Man quickly ran up to you and ripped your backpack from your back and quickly webbed one of your arms down keeping you in place.

”You can’t take that” you said losing the regular playfullness in your voice. ”I just did” Spider-Man said victoriously. He went for the zipper on the bag while muttering ”What did you even steal?”. You watched with a glare as Spider-Man brought out a set of files from your bag.

”Put that back” you demanded but he ignored you. He opened one of the files and stated ”It’s the layout of a prison” he then turned his gaze to you and asked ”Are you planning to break someone out?”. He continued looking through some other files as you desperately looked for a way to free yourself.

You heard sirens in the distance approaching and even though you couldn’t see his mouth you knew Spider-Man was smirking. ”Well looks like i finally caught you Cat, tell me how does it feel?”.

Then you found something. ”Oh Spider… when will you learn, you can’t cage the Black Cat” you said and threw one of your newer gadgets towards him, which he easily dodged out of the way for it as it hit the water tower behind him. ”You missed” Spider-Man said proudly, but as he noticed your satisfied facial expression he realised… you hadn’t missed.

Next thing he knew an explosion came and he was completely drenched in water and the water tower started collapsing on to him. The files you had collected were washed away spreading wet sheets of paper out all over the rooftop.

Spider-Man managed to catch the falling water tower as it landed on top of him. He then threw it to the side and turned to where you had been webbed finding only an empty spot with some left over webbing.

”Shit” he swore to himself. He tried to pick up some wet paper files but they fell apart almost instantly as he did. At least he had managed to foil your break out plans he thought to himself.

——

You grappled your way to your secret lair, an old storage unit your mom had used during her time as the Black Cat. You opened your door and walked inside seeing collections of jewelry and paintings, maps with marked out locations and all your tech stuff. You slammed the door behind you and ripped off your mask throwing it aside.

You walked up to your working bench and slammed your fists on the table, your one chance you could’ve had to free your mom from prison and that stupid arachnid boy had ruined everything.

You grabbed something random from the working bench and threw it across the room in a rage, making it smash against the wall…

——

You layed with crossed arms on your bed leaning against the headborard as Peter played video games on your flatscreen tv. Your dad was out of town for business so you and Peter decided to have a sleepover while he was gone.

You thought about canceling with Peter after last nights failed theft but you hoped his company might help cheer you up… so far it wasn’t working, you had a noticable scowl on your face and a clear lack of energy in your voice.

Peter had noticed but not pointed it out as he wasn’t completely sure you wanted to talk about it. Once he finished the level he put the controller aside and layed down next to you. He gently touched your arm and asked ”Y/n, are you okay?”

You turned to him with a distracted look and said simple ”Yeah” but then added a ”Just in a bad mood”. ”Do you want me to leave or something? I can give you space?” Peter asked sweetly, sitting up ready to leave if you wanted some alone time.

”No, stay, i like your company” you said but with more softness in your voice this time as you put your hand on top of his, giving it a light squeeze. ”Alright… is there anything i can do for you?” Peter asked generously. You stayed silent for a moment…

”Can i fuck you?…” you said a mix of coldness and longing in your voice. Peter was caught of guard making him silent, making you quickly add ”You really don’t have to if you don’t want to, i just- i just want some release… that’s all”.

Peter thought about it for a moment and asked curiously ”What did you have in mind?”. You stood up and said ”Come on” and led him out of your room, and down the hallway. You then opened the door to another room where Peter followed you inside.

It was a bigger room than yours, the first thing Peter noticed were the two glass doors along the left wall that opened to a balcony looking out over the other suburban houses. He looked around the room, along the walls were some really nice paintings, like straight out of a museum.

There were also some pictures of you as a child spread around the room, as well as a big family portrait hanging over the headboard of a large bed, a bed for two. This was you parents room.

You stood in front of the double bed and then explained in a darkened tone ”I want to take you like a whore on my parents bed”. The request left Peter on mute, this was something new to him… having sex on your parents bed felt so inappropriate and lewd… and he was suprisingly really turned on by it.

”Look, like i said you really don’t have to if-” you said again but Peter interrupted saying ”Yeah, let’s do it”. You nodded and said ”Okay, get ready then, i’ll get the lube”. You said leaving and walking back to your room.

Peter slowly started undressing pulling of his shirt and pants, leaving him in socks and underwear. Peter moved on to the bed and tried to position himself in a sexy way, like he’d seen you do before.

When you came back inside you threw the bottle of lube on to the bed and tugged your own shirt off. You stood yourself on the edge of the bed and pulled Peter closer by his legs. Peter stood up on his knees and the two of you started hungrily making out.

You grabbed at Peter’s bulge feeling him getting hard in your hand, you then slipped in your hand inside his underwear and rubbed your hand along his cock with a firm grip of him. Peter let out a soft moan in your face as you did.

You then gently pushed Peter on to his back on the big bed and dragged his underwear down his legs and threw them on the floor. Peter was now naked in front of you apart from his white socks which you decided to leave on because you thought it made him look cute.

You unbuckled your belt and pulled you pants down and climbed onto the bed in between his legs. You opened the bottle of lube and poured some in your hand and spreading it on your fingers. You then lifted Peter’s spread legs revealing his tight hole that hadn’t been used in a while.

You mercilessly started shoving your first finger in to him making his mouth gape open. ”Fuck” Peter swore as you watched in satisfaction. You impatiently added another finger into him and then another, pumping them in and out him loosening up his ass. Peter’s dick was now rockhard as you finger fucked him.

You then suddenly pulled out your fingers from him, wanting to get your hard manhood inside him. You flipped Peter on to his stomach giving you a full view of his bubble butt, you started teasing your length against his hole.

You squeezed Peter’s left cheek and gave it a light spank. ”You want my cock?” you asked as you kept teasing his awaiting heat. ”Yeah, i want it, please” Peter said almost begging. You spread his ass and pushed your hung cock in to his tight hole, making Peter whine beneath you.

You groaned feeling Peter’s tight walls around your manhood. ”Fuck Y/n, you’re so big” Peter moaned as you sheated yourself inside him. ”Bet you like that” you said grabbing his hips. Without giving Peter much time to adjust you started rolling your hips, your cock moving in and out of him.

”Taking it like a real slut” you said degradingly as Peter moaned in to the matress. You sped up your thrusts making the sound of skin slapping together sound out through the room, his ass kneading your cock like perfection. You moved your hands to Peter’s back pressing him onto the bed.

”Such a whore for my cock aren’t you?” you asked him as you roughly took his ass. But Peter was to blissed out to answer, you raised a hand and gave Peter’s right ass cheek a hard slap that echoed through the room. ”Aren’t you?” you repeated demandingly.

”Yes, i’m your whore” Peter let out through the ectasy he felt. You fucked yourself in to his heat agressively, using the rage you felt to fuck him like a bitch. His hole clenching around you making you groan loudly.

You bodies started getting sweaty from you intense fucking. Peter moaned loudly as you plowed in to him. ”You love when men fuck you full of their cum?” you asked in a rough tone as your big cock pushed against Peter’s prostate.

”Yes, i love being filled with cum!!!” Peter moaned loudly. If anyone was standing outside the bedroom door they would’ve definetely heard every single word. You laid down on top of Peter and took his hands that were gripping the bedsheets and held Peter down as you thrust wildly in to him.

Peter started getting close from the feeling of your cock fucking deeply in to his now loose open hole. ”I’m gonna cum” Peter whined through his moans. ”Cum then you little whore” you said grabbing Peter’s messy sweaty hair in your hand.

Peter’s length pressed down to the matress then started spilling his seed in to a puddle on the sheets. You thrusts started growing eratic and hungry as you chased your own release. ”Gonna fuck my whore full of cum” you growled to the tired out Peter beneath you.

”Yes fill me with your cum!” Peter gasped which was all you needed to hear as you delivered one last powerful thrust in to him and let your seed erupt deep inside Peter’s heat, filling him all the way up. His hole started leaking as soon as you pulled out of him.

You laid down beside Peter in exhaustion feeling cleansed of your anger. You looked to the side where spotted a picture on the nightside table, it was a picture of you as a kid and your mom before she got locked up. It made a new feeling bubble up inside you.

Sadness…

A tear started trickling down your cheek your cheek as you let out a small whimper. Peter heard and immediately turned to you. He noticed tears had started uncontrolably rolling down your cheeks.

”Y/n, are you okay? Did i do something wrong?” Peter quickly questioned. You shook your head and said ”No, i’m just emotional”. Peter looked conserned at you. ”Can you hold me?” you asked him through sniffs. ”Of course” Peter said and let you nuzzle your tear stained face in to his chest.

He didn’t really understand what was happening or what brought this on but he wrapped his arms around your body letting you cry. You calmed down after a while but you the two of you stayed cuddled together.

Soon enough the two of you fell asleep in the big bed holding each other closely all through the night.

#peter parker x male reader smut #peter parker x male reader #peter parker x male!reader #peter parker x male black cat reader #spider man x male reader #spiderman x male reader #spider-man x male reader #avengers x male reader #avengers x male!reader #mcu x male reader #x male reader smut #male reader #x male reader #x male!reader #male black cat reader #black cat!male reader #male black cat!reader

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improbable-outset · 1 year ago

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📄 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐂𝐨𝐝𝐞:

𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐇𝐂…

Hey it’s 1am here in the UK and I don’t have a valentine themed fic. So have this set of HC of my AU series that I’ve been working on instead. There is a mix of wholesome and spicy HC. I’m too lazy to put it in an undercut so minors DNI 🔞

𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will rant about his day in the lab to you. You love hearing him vent to you if he had a terrible day or ramble about an exciting discovery he had made.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will come home to you from a hard works day in the lab. He likes to rest his head between your thighs while his wife massages his scalp. He melts completely under your tender touch. Your fingers are very soft and soothing.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will receive small love notes or doodles that are packed with his lunch from his wife. Sometimes even spicy messages if you’re feeling risky. They tend to end with him coming back home and fucking you on the nearest surface. Most likely the couch or kitchen counter top.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will receive a personalised lab coat with his name on it from you, either as a birthday gift or an anniversary present. He now wears it in the lab everyday since.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will involve you when he’s designing gadgets and weapons to be used by the Spider Society. He values your input when brainstorming the prototypes.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will have a personal gym right next to his lab where he would work out and train to maintain his strength and combat skills. This includes a high-tech simulation drill that replicate various combat scenarios to aid and enhance his quick thinking and problem solving abilities.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will have his wife watch him work out from the sidelines. You would admire the determination etched on his face. Maybe even steal a quick kiss in between sets. Sometimes you would sit on the rooftops while Miguel would do his usual web slinging endurance, navigating the city skyline from building to building as part of his training.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will fuck you good when he knows he won’t be home for a few days because of a mission in another dimension. He’ll make sure he reaches every crevice deep inside you. You’ll feel a dull ache from the way he stretched out your walls— a reminder of that passionate night and of your husband’s temporary absence. He doesn’t like using toys, he’d rather use his hands and dick do all the work.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that loves to kiss you all over and talk about the function of each part of your body while praising you and telling you how perfect your are. He loves teasing your erogenous areas to increase your serotonin levels and see how much you would fall apart under his touch.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will receive a blow job from you as he tries to explain the make reproductive system OR while he talks about his day at work to you. He’s lucky to have you help him with his pent up stress.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that probably keeps a track of your period. For research, of course. After you got off your birth control pills, it’s his responsibility to track when your fertility window takes place so he can breed you at the right time.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that is over the moon when you both find out that you are finally pregnant. Of course he would admire the changes of your body while you’re growing his child. He will eagerly share insight about the embryonic development and the hormonal changes, deepening the intimate connection you both already share.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will admire the changes of your body and will develop a serious lactation kink. He’ll feed from your breast from time to time…for science obviously. He’s just increasing your oxytocin levels so you can produce more milk for your baby daughter. Duh.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will help his daughter with her schoolwork. I know he will probably put extra effort when it comes to her school science project and will probably be more committed to it than her. He just wants what’s best for her.

Mood board

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @thealleydog @ultravioletrayz @club-danger-zone @lazyjellyfish300 @miguelbaby @miguels-aranita (lmk if you want to be tagged for this au idea)

- Ayrus <3

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amethystarachnid · 2 months ago

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hey, could i request the secret admirer trope with mcu peter parker from love is in the air? it would be great if the reader was a female avenger (in a world where no one dies and everyone lives together). i just know that peter would be soo cute as a secret admirer; so could you write into the story him being super paranoid when leaving gifts and little notes at y/n’s door and always being the sweetest? oh and also thinking he’s super slick and all that but y/n actually knows it’s him leaving the gifts and stuff (she checked the security camera footage after the second one) but peter absolutely CANNOT take a hint so she decides to mess with him a little and convinces another avenger (maybe sam?) to act like her boyfriend to make peter jealous because she thinks it’s a little funny (:() but he only gets sad and barely leaves his room and no one knows why (except y/n) so she comes clean after the second day (i seem to have an obsession with the number 2) and kisses him after she comes to see him while he’s moping in his room. i should stop rambling i really hope this isn’t too long and im excited to read what you write! thanks!

(NOT SO) SECRET ADMIRER

⤷ PETER PARKER

ᯓ★ Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, some angst and some fluff

ᯓ★ Requests status: open (only by asks)

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.1k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said and !! important!! both Peter and reader here are twenty-something

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing i think

ᯓ★ I'm backkk! and I hope to have more free time to write for you guys! <3 also I'm working on a Bucky Barnes x fem!demigod!OC (demigod because yes I said so) so let me know if you would be interested <3

ᯓ★ Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

Moving into the Avengers Compound is overwhelming in ways you don’t expect. The high-tech security, the endless hallways, the casual presence of literal superheroes—it’s a lot to take in. You’re used to SHIELD facilities, where everything is sleek and professional, where people nod in acknowledgment but don’t stop to chat. The compound is different. It’s still high-tech, still crawling with some of the most skilled fighters on the planet, but it feels… warmer. Like a home, rather than a base.

It helps that the team is welcoming. Sam and Bucky tease you like an annoying pair of older brothers. Wanda is quick to pull you into conversations, treating you like you’ve always been part of the team. Even Tony, in his own sarcastic way, seems to have accepted you.

Then there’s Peter Parker.

Peter is unlike anyone you’ve worked with before. He’s clumsy but quick, brilliant but self-deprecating, always talking like his thoughts are moving faster than his mouth. He’s a dork, really, but in an endearing way. He’s also ridiculously powerful—not that he acts like it. If you hadn’t seen him in action, you’d never guess the guy who constantly fumbles with his web-shooters is the same Spider-Man who’s taken down entire teams of bad guys on his own.

You notice, almost immediately, that he’s nervous around you. The stammering, the way his face flushes whenever you look at him too long, the way he trips over his own feet when you’re in the same room—it’s impossible to miss. It’s cute.

And then, the gifts start showing up.

The first one appears a week after you move in. You find it on your way back to your room late at night—a slightly crumpled bouquet of daisies, placed neatly in front of your door with a small note.

Welcome to the team! Hope you like these. :)

No name. Just a simple message and a cute little smiley face.

You smile, crouching down to pick up the flowers. They aren’t professionally arranged—some of the stems are uneven, and a few petals look a little worse for wear—but there’s something undeniably sweet about them. Someone went out of their way to welcome you, and you have a pretty good guess who.

Still, you don’t say anything. You don’t want to assume. Maybe it’s Wanda. Maybe it’s Sam messing with you.

Then, three days later, another gift appears. A small bag of your favorite candy, along with another note.

Saw you training today. You’re incredible. Hope this makes your night better!

Again, no name. But the handwriting is the same.

That’s when your curiosity gets the better of you.

You’re trained to notice patterns, to pick up on the details most people overlook. And you’re trained to investigate. So, you do what any ex-SHIELD agent would—you check the security footage.

It doesn’t take long to find what you’re looking for. You scroll back to the timestamp from the night before, eyes scanning the grainy hallway footage. Then, right on schedule, someone drops into view.

Peter Parker.

You watch as he crouches in front of your door, carefully placing the candy down like it might explode. His movements are quick but nervous—he keeps glancing up and down the hallway like he expects someone to catch him. Then he pulls out the note, smooths it down three times, mutters something under his breath, and web-slings to the ceiling.

You replay the footage, laughing to yourself.

Of course, it’s Peter.

The pieces click together so perfectly you can’t believe you didn’t realize it earlier. The awkwardness, the way he lights up when you talk to him, the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention. He has a crush on you.

And now, you know.

But you don’t tell him. Because, honestly? It’s adorable. And if Peter wants to keep thinking he’s being sneaky, you’re more than happy to let him.

Since then, the gifts keep coming.

Every few days, something new appears at your door. Sometimes, it’s snacks after a long mission. Other times, little trinkets—stickers, keychains, a tiny plush cat because you mentioned once that you like them. And always, always a note.

You start having fun with it.

You drop hints, teasing him just enough to see if he reacts. You compliment his intelligence, lean in close when you’re standing next to him, smile a little longer than necessary. You even start leaving notes of your own—nothing direct, just little things you know will fluster him.

Nice work in training today, Peter. Maybe next time, you’ll actually land a hit on me. ;)

He reads it while you’re in the same room, and his face turns so red you think he might combust.

It’s perfect.

But somehow, despite all your efforts, he remains completely oblivious.

Tonight, you’re determined to push him just a little further.

It’s late, and most of the team has already gone to bed. You’re in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, sipping tea when Peter walks in. His hair is messy like he’s been running his hands through it, and he’s wearing a hoodie that’s at least two sizes too big.

“Oh,” he says, stopping in his tracks. “Hey!”

You smile. “Hey, Peter.��

He shifts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Didn’t think anyone else was up.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you say. “What about you?”

“Uh, same,” he says, though you suspect he was probably sneaking around to drop off another gift.

You decide to test him. “I found something outside my door again.”

Peter stiffens. “Oh?”

You tilt your head. “Yeah. It’s kind of weird, though. It’s like… I keep getting these little gifts. And notes. No idea who they’re from.”

He swallows hard. “That’s—uh—crazy.”

You nod. “Right? I mean, it’s sweet. Really sweet. But I wonder who’s doing it.”

He lets out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, um, no clue. Could be anyone.”

You step closer, just enough to make him notice. “You think so?”

His eyes dart to your face, then away again. “Y-yeah! I mean, maybe it’s, like, a team thing? Or—uh—someone trying to make you feel welcome?”

You hum, pretending to consider it. “Maybe. But it’s funny… they always seem to know exactly what I like.”

Peter practically short-circuits. “That’s—uh—wild.”

You bite back a grin. He’s so obvious it hurts.

“Well,” you say, leaning against the counter beside him, “whoever it is, I kind of wish they’d just talk to me.”

Peter blinks. “Oh?”

You nod, watching him carefully. “Yeah. I mean, sneaking around is cute and all, but I’d really like to get to know them.”

For a second, you think maybe—maybe—he’ll take the hint. But then, he just lets out a choked laugh and says, “Yeah! Totally! That would be—uh—cool!”

You sigh internally.

Peter Parker is the worst secret admirer in the world.

But he’s also the sweetest.

So, you’ll wait. You’ll keep playing along, keep flirting, keep dropping hints. And maybe—eventually—he’ll realize you like him too.

Peter Parker is a genius.

He built his web-shooters from scraps, made it through MIT’s entrance exams before graduating high school, and helps Tony Stark with tech that makes most people’s heads spin.

And yet, for all his intelligence, he’s completely, hopelessly, unbelievably clueless.

You keep flirting with him, testing the waters, pushing the line between teasing and something a little more. Sometimes, it’s subtle—a hand on his arm when you laugh, leaning a little too close when you talk. Other times, it’s… less subtle.

Like the time you stretch in the training room, arching your back just enough to make him flustered, only to watch in delight as Peter—mid push-up—faceplants directly onto the mat. Or the time you “accidentally” call him handsome in front of the team, and he spends the next five minutes sputtering like a broken car engine while everyone watches in confusion.

At this point, it’s a personal challenge.

You want to see how far you can push him before he finally realizes you’re into him. And if he doesn’t? Well. You’re having way too much fun watching him suffer.

The best part is that no one else seems to notice. Everyone assumes Peter is just awkward (which, to be fair, he is), and you’re just being friendly (which, to be fair, you are—just with extra flirting).

At least, that’s what you think.

Until Sam Wilson calls you out.

It happens in the common room. You’re lounging on the couch after a morning mission, scrolling through your phone, when Sam plops down beside you with a knowing smirk.

“So,” he says casually, “you gonna tell me why you’ve been messing with Parker?”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

“Come on,” Sam drawls. “You’ve been flirting with that boy so hard I’m surprised he hasn’t passed out yet.”

You fight back a laugh. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Then explain why he turns redder than Wanda’s magic every time you walk into the room.”

You shrug. “Maybe he’s just allergic to me.”

Sam snorts. “Nah, he’s just allergic to rizz.”

You burst out laughing. “Oh my god, Sam.”

“Hey, I’m just saying.” He leans back, crossing his arms. “Kid’s got it bad for you, and you know it.”

You sigh dramatically. “Yeah. But he has no idea I know.”

Sam squints at you. “Wait. He doesn’t know you know?”

“Nope.”

“…And he doesn’t know that you know that he doesn’t know you know?”

You blink. “What?”

“Never mind.” Sam shakes his head. “So, what’s the deal? You just enjoying the slow burn? Or are you waiting for him to finally grow a pair and ask you out?”

You grin. “A little of both.”

Sam lets out a low whistle. “Damn. That’s evil.”

“Not evil,” you correct. “Just… patient.”

Sam gives you a look. “Right. And I’m Captain America.”

You smirk. “You wish.”

He grins, then tilts his head, clearly considering something. “You want me to help?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Help how?”

Sam stretches his arms behind his head. “I could drop some hints. Get in his head a little.”

You hum, pretending to think about it. “Tempting.”

“Oh, come on,” Sam nudges you. “You know you want to see him suffer.”

That makes you laugh. “Fine. But don’t be too mean.”

“No promises,” Sam says, already grinning like he’s planning something dangerous.

You don’t know exactly what he’s going to do, but you do know one thing—Peter Parker doesn’t stand a chance.

It starts at breakfast.

Peter is sitting at the table, eating a massive bowl of cereal, when Sam slides into the seat across from him.

“What’s up, Parker?”

Peter blinks, mouth full. “Mmf?”

Sam smirks. “You know, I’ve been noticing something lately.”

Peter swallows, already looking nervous. “Noticing what?”

Sam leans forward. “You and Y/N.”

Peter chokes on his cereal.

“I—what?” he sputters, coughing.

“You and Y/N,” Sam repeats, smirking. “Something going on there?”

Peter turns so red you’re afraid he might actually explode. “N-no! I mean—uh—why? Did she say something?”

Sam pretends to think. “Hmm. Can’t say. But, you know, she does talk about you a lot.”

Peter’s eyes widen. “She does?”

“Oh yeah,” Sam says. “Like, the other day, she was saying how much she loves a guy who’s smart. Thought that was interesting.”

Peter makes a strangled sound. “She—she did?”

Sam nods. “And then she said something about how she likes guys who are good with their hands.”

Peter immediately drops his spoon. “WHAT?”

Sam shrugs. “I dunno, man. Just something to think about.”

Peter looks like he’s about to faint.

You, watching from across the room, nearly lose it.

For the next week, Sam continues his psychological warfare.

One morning, while you’re stretching before training, Sam casually mentions, “Hey, Parker, did you know Y/N thinks your arms are nice?”

Peter nearly drops the dumbbell he’s holding.

Then, during a mission briefing, Sam leans over and says, “You know, Y/N was just telling me how much she loves guys who can fight.”

Peter immediately starts sweating.

But the final straw comes during movie night. The team is gathered in the common room, popcorn bowls scattered across the couches, when Sam—loudly, for the whole room to hear—says, “Hey, Parker, Y/N said she likes guys who can take charge. What do you think that means?”

Peter, in the middle of drinking his soda, chokes so violently that Tony has to pat him on the back.

You’re dying.

Sam is clearly having the time of his life. Every time Peter panics, he shoots you a smug look, and you have to fight to keep a straight face.

Peter, meanwhile, is suffering.

And the best part? He still doesn’t get it.

Still doesn’t realize you’re into him.

At this point, you’re genuinely starting to think he might never figure it out.

But you’re patient.

So, you wait. You flirt. You tease. And you watch as Peter Parker, one of the smartest people you know, continues to be the most oblivious person on the planet.

At first, Peter’s obliviousness is adorable. It’s fun watching him squirm, fun seeing him turn bright red whenever you so much as look at him a little too long. But now? Now it’s getting annoying.

You’ve been dropping hints for weeks. You’ve been touching his arm, leaning in close, giving him every possible signal short of straight-up kissing him. And what does he do? He stammers. He trips over his own feet. He gets so flustered that he either short-circuits completely or runs away like a scared puppy.

It’s maddening.

You’re starting to wonder if you’re doing something wrong. Maybe you’re not being obvious enough. Maybe Peter just doesn’t think you could actually like him. Which is ridiculous, because if anyone in this compound paid half as much attention to him as you did, they’d see exactly why you liked him. He’s smart, he’s kind, he’s funny, and he’s got this dorky charm that somehow makes your heart race in ways it absolutely shouldn’t.

But none of that matters if he doesn’t get the damn hint.

So, you decide to kick things up a notch.

You start small. The next time you see Peter in the gym, you make sure to stretch right in front of him. It’s a bold move, but you’re desperate. You slowly lift your arms above your head, arching your back just enough to be noticeable. Then, when you bend down to touch your toes, you peek up to see if he’s watching.

He is.

And then he immediately panics and turns away so fast he nearly walks into the weight rack.

You barely hold back an eye roll.

Fine. If that didn’t work, maybe something else will.

Later that day, you find him in the lab, tinkering with his web-shooters. You walk in, pretending like you don’t have an agenda, and lean against the table. He looks up, startled, then immediately averts his gaze.

“Oh, hey, Y/N,” he says, voice slightly higher than usual. “What’s up?”

You tilt your head, resting a hand under your chin. “Nothing much. Just needed a distraction.”

Peter nods, focusing way too hard on his web-fluid cartridge. “Yeah? Um. Cool. What—uh—what kind of distraction?”

You smirk. “Oh, you know. Something fun.”

Peter’s hand slips, and a small burst of web-fluid sprays onto the table. He stares at it like it personally betrayed him.

You grin, stepping closer, casually placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’re so tense, Peter. You ever think about taking a break?”

He lets out the fakest laugh you’ve ever heard. “Me? Oh, no, I’m—I’m good! Totally fine! Not tense at all!”

You squeeze his shoulder lightly. “Really? Because you feel tense.”

Peter swallows so hard you can see his Adam’s apple bob. “I—uh—”

You drag your fingers down his arm slowly. “Maybe you just need someone to help you relax.”

Peter makes a noise that is definitely not human and abruptly stands up so fast his chair nearly topples over. “I-I should really finish this!” he blurts out. “So much work to do! Web-fluid doesn’t improve itself! Haha!”

You blink as he practically throws himself back into his project, acting like you didn’t just borderline seduce him in the middle of the lab.

It’s unbelievable.

How is it possible for someone to be this dense?

You sigh, finally stepping back. “Alright, Parker. Have fun with your webs.”

“Y-you too!” he stammers. Then, realizing that makes no sense, he adds, “I mean—uh—have fun with whatever you’re doing! Yep!”

You walk out, shaking your head.

This is getting ridiculous.

That night, you call for reinforcements.

Sam lounges on your bed, arms crossed behind his head, looking entirely too smug. “So. Parker still being an idiot?”

You flop onto the bed beside him. “He’s impossible.”

Sam chuckles. “Told you.”

“I don’t get it,” you groan. “I’ve been all over him. I’ve flirted, I’ve touched him, I’ve literally told him I think he’s cute, and he still doesn’t get it.”

Sam snorts. “Man, that boy is a lost cause.”

“There has to be a way to make him realize,” you say, frustrated.

Sam hums, thinking. Then he smirks. “Have you tried making him jealous?”

You pause. “Jealous?”

“Yeah,” Sam says. “You know. Flirt with someone else. See if that gets his brain to finally start working.”

It’s not a bad idea.

You sit up, considering it. “You think that’ll work?”

“Oh, definitely.” Sam grins. “Peter’s the kind of guy who doesn’t realize what he wants until he thinks he’s about to lose it.”

You tap your fingers against your thigh, mulling it over. It’s risky. But at this point, you’re willing to try anything.

“Alright,” you say. “Let’s do it.”

The plan is simple. The next day, you start subtly flirting with other people. Nothing crazy, just enough to test Peter’s reaction. You laugh a little too hard at Bucky’s jokes, compliment Steve’s biceps during training, even lean in close when talking to Sam just to see if Peter notices.

He does.

And he looks like he’s about to self-destruct.

The first time you flirt with Bucky, Peter nearly drops the coffee he’s holding. The second time you casually touch Steve’s arm, he stares like he’s witnessing a national tragedy. And when you get extra close to Sam at dinner, Peter’s entire body goes rigid like he’s about to short-circuit.

It’s hilarious.

But it’s also not working fast enough.

So, you take it a step further.

That night, when you run into Peter in the hallway, you lean against the wall, looking at him through your lashes. “You okay, Peter? You’ve been acting weird.”

Peter stiffens. “Me? No! I mean—yes! I mean—I’m totally fine! Why do you ask?”

You tilt your head. “I don’t know. You just seem… distracted.”

Peter laughs nervously. “Nope! Totally focused!”

You step closer. “Are you sure?”

Peter swallows. “Y-yeah! Why wouldn’t I be?”

You smile, slow and deliberate. “Well, I’ve just been spending a lot of time with other people lately. Thought maybe that was bothering you.”

Peter’s eyes widen. “Wh—why would that bother me?”

You shrug, trailing a finger along his arm. “I don’t know. Just wondering if maybe you wanted me to spend more time with you instead.”

Peter makes a strangled noise.

Then, just when you think he might finally get it, he blurts out, “I—uh—oh wow, look at the time! I gotta go!”

And then he runs.

Again.

You stand there, stunned, watching as he practically sprints down the hallway like his life depends on it.

You groan, dragging a hand down your face.

Unbelievable.

At this point, you have no idea what else you can do. You’ve flirted, teased, touched, complimented—hell, you’ve practically thrown yourself at him, and he’s still too dense to see it.

Maybe it’s time to just give up.

But then again…

You smirk.

Maybe it’s time to try something even bolder.

This is war.

You have tried everything. Flirting, teasing, touching, straight-up telling Peter you think he’s cute—it’s all been useless. The boy is either the densest human being on the planet, or he truly believes you could never be into him. Either way, you’re at your breaking point.

So, you decide to take Sam’s advice.

You’re going to make Peter jealous.

And not just by flirting with other people. That clearly hasn’t worked. No, you’re going for the nuclear option. If he won’t get a clue after everything you’ve done, then maybe—just maybe—he’ll realize he likes you if he thinks he’s already lost you.

Which is why you’re sitting on Sam’s bed, grinning while he stares at you like you’ve lost your mind.

“You want me to what?”

“Pretend to be my boyfriend,” you say, voice casual.

Sam blinks. “Oh, hell no.”

“Oh, come on,” you groan, nudging him. “It’s not like I’m asking you to marry me. Just a little act to make Peter jealous. You’re the one who suggested it in the first place.”

“I said flirt with other people,” Sam says, raising an eyebrow. “Not start a fake relationship.”

“Please, Sam,” you whine, clasping your hands together. “You’re the only one I trust to do this. And admit it, you think it’ll be hilarious.”

Sam considers this for a moment, then sighs. “Okay, yeah, it will be funny.”

You grin. “So, you’re in?”

He gives you a look. “This is gonna end in disaster, isn’t it?”

“Probably,” you say. “But it’ll be fun.”

Sam groans, rubbing his temples. “Fine. But if this backfires, you owe me big time.”

“Deal.”

And just like that, the plan is in motion.

The next morning, it begins.

You start by holding Sam’s hand at breakfast. It’s subtle, casual, like it’s something you’ve done a thousand times before. Sam plays along perfectly, smirking as he squeezes your hand.

Peter, sitting across the table, nearly chokes on his toast.

“Oh, you okay there, Parker?” Sam asks, smirking.

Peter forces a laugh. “Yeah! Totally fine!”

You smile sweetly. “Good. You looked a little… surprised.”

Peter shakes his head rapidly. “Nope! Not surprised! Just, um—just didn’t know you guys were—uh—” He gestures between you and Sam, clearly struggling to find the right words.

Sam shrugs. “Oh yeah, it’s a new thing. We figured, why not?”

Peter goes rigid. “Oh. Cool. That’s—uh—that’s really cool.”

You squeeze Sam’s hand again, leaning your head against his shoulder for dramatic effect. “Yeah. It is.”

Peter looks like someone just told him Spider-Man isn’t a real superhero.

It’s both hilarious and a little sad.

You expect him to ask questions, to push for details, but instead, he just goes quiet. He finishes his breakfast quickly, mutters some excuse about needing to work on something in the lab, and leaves before you can say another word.

You frown as you watch him go.

“Well,” Sam says, “that was… unexpected.”

You turn to him. “What do you mean?”

Sam gestures toward the door Peter just left through. “I figured he’d get all flustered, maybe try to ‘compete’ for your attention. But he just shut down.”

You chew your lip, suddenly feeling uneasy. “Yeah. That was weird.”

And it only gets weirder.

For the next few days, Peter avoids you. Completely.

He stops sitting next to you at meals. He doesn’t spar with you in training. He doesn’t even make eye contact when you pass him in the hallways. Every time you try to talk to him, he either mumbles some excuse or straight-up disappears.

It’s like he’s a ghost.

And no one—not even Sam—can figure out why.

At first, you think maybe he’s just adjusting. Maybe he’s trying to process his feelings, or maybe he’s sulking. But then you start hearing things.

“He’s been in the lab all day,” Bucky says at dinner one night.

“Yeah, he skipped training again,” Steve adds. “Is he okay?”

“I don’t know,” Wanda says, frowning. “He barely talks to anyone anymore.”

You try to play it cool, but inside, you’re panicking.

Because you know exactly why Peter is acting like this.

And suddenly, it’s not funny anymore.

That night, you find yourself standing outside Peter’s room. You hesitate, hand hovering over the door. You don’t know if he’ll even answer, but you have to try.

You knock.

Silence.

You knock again. “Peter? It’s me.”

More silence.

You sigh. “I know you’re in there.”

Still nothing.

You lean against the door, voice softer now. “Peter… can we talk?”

A long pause. Then, finally, a quiet voice from the other side.

“…I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Your heart clenches. “Why not?”

Another pause. Then—so soft you almost don’t hear it—Peter says, “Because I don’t want to make things weird.”

You blink, confused. “Weird? Peter, what are you talking about?”

He sighs. “You and Sam. You guys are happy. And I don’t wanna… I don’t wanna get in the way.”

Your stomach drops.

Oh no.

You screwed up.

You thought Peter would get jealous. You thought he’d realize his feelings and maybe—just maybe—make a move. But instead, he assumed the worst. He thought he lost his chance.

And now he’s shutting himself off because he thinks it’s the right thing to do.

You feel like the worst person in the world.

“Peter,” you say carefully, “you’re not in the way.”

He lets out a bitter laugh. “I dunno. Feels like I am.”

You close your eyes, exhaling slowly. “You’re not.”

Silence.

Then, quietly, Peter says, “Are you happy?”

You open your mouth, then close it.

Because the answer is complicated.

You’re happy when you’re around Peter. You’re happy when he smiles at you, when he laughs, when he rambles about some weird science thing that you barely understand.

You’re happy with him.

Not Sam.

Never Sam.

And you should’ve realized that before pulling this stupid stunt.

You take a deep breath. “Peter… can I come in?”

Another long pause. Then, finally, the door unlocks.

You step inside. Peter is sitting on his bed, looking exhausted. His hair is messier than usual, dark circles under his eyes like he hasn’t been sleeping. It makes your chest ache.

You sit beside him, close but not too close. “I need to tell you something.”

Peter nods, but doesn’t look at you.

You hesitate, then say, “Sam and I aren’t together.”

That gets his attention. His head snaps up, eyes wide. “Wait. What?”

“It was fake,” you admit, voice soft. “I just… I thought maybe if you saw me with someone else, you’d realize…”

You trail off, heart pounding.

Peter stares at you, completely still. “Realize what?”

You swallow. This is it. No more games.

You meet his gaze, voice barely above a whisper.

“That I like you, Peter.”

Peter doesn’t say anything at first. He just stares at you like you’ve grown a second head, eyes wide, lips parted slightly. His whole body has gone still, like he’s afraid to move, afraid to breathe, afraid to believe what you just said.

You watch the way his brain tries to process it, his thoughts practically running across his face in real-time. His eyebrows furrow like he thinks you might be messing with him, then lift slightly, like maybe—just maybe—he dares to hope you’re telling the truth.

You inhale, steeling yourself. “I like you, Peter. I have for a while.”

He still doesn’t say anything.

Your heart pounds as you force yourself to keep going. “And I know about the gifts. The notes. Everything.”

Peter jerks back like you just electrocuted him. “You—what?”

You exhale, giving him a small smile. “I know it was you. I checked the security footage after the second one.”

Peter makes a strangled sound and immediately buries his face in his hands. “Oh my god.”

You bite back a laugh. “Peter—”

“Oh my god,” he groans again, voice muffled. “This is so embarrassing. You weren’t supposed to know.”

You grin. “Yeah, I figured that out.”

Peter drags his hands down his face, looking like he wants to disappear into the floor. “This is… this is bad.”

You tilt your head. “Why is it bad?”

“Because!” He gestures wildly. “You weren’t supposed to know it was me! I thought I was being sneaky! I had a whole system!”

Your smile softens. “Peter. It was adorable.”

He makes another pained noise, slumping forward, hands in his hair. “This is the worst day of my life.”

You shake your head, fondness swelling in your chest. You reach out, resting a hand on his arm. “Peter.”

He stops rambling immediately, looking up at you with wide eyes.

You squeeze his arm lightly. “I loved the gifts. And the notes. And everything about it. You have no idea how much they meant to me.”

Peter swallows. “Really?”

You nod. “Really. And you wanna know the best part?”

“…What?”

You smile, shifting closer. “I like you too, you idiot.”

Peter’s breath catches.

He looks at you, and for the first time since you walked into his room, there’s something new in his eyes. Something hopeful.

He licks his lips, voice barely above a whisper. “You do?”

Instead of answering, you decide to show him.

You lean in slowly, giving him a chance to pull away. He doesn’t. He just watches you, eyes locked on your lips, chest rising and falling like he can’t believe this is happening.

Then, finally, you close the distance.

The second your lips touch his, Peter freezes. For a split second, he doesn’t move—like his brain short-circuited entirely.

Then, suddenly, he melts.

He kisses you back with so much enthusiasm it nearly knocks you over. His hands fly to your waist, gripping you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. His lips are soft and warm, moving against yours like he’s trying to make up for all the time you’ve both wasted dancing around this.

It’s messy, desperate, but it’s perfect.

Peter makes a small, needy sound in the back of his throat and pulls you closer, fingers pressing into your sides like he’s making sure you’re real. His heart is racing—you can feel it against your own chest, pounding like it’s trying to break free.

You smile against his lips. “You’re kissing me like a happy puppy.”

Peter pulls back just enough to breathe, his face flushed, eyes dazed. “I am a happy puppy.”

You laugh, cupping his face. “Good.”

Peter blinks at you, then suddenly grins—wide and bright and so full of joy it makes your chest ache. “Wait. I’m kissing you. We’re kissing.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Yeah, genius, we are.”

He looks almost dizzy with excitement. “This is—this is real, right? I’m not dreaming?”

You smirk. “If you were dreaming, would I do this?”

You tug him back in and kiss him again, slow and deep.

Peter practically melts, hands tightening on your waist as he kisses you back like his life depends on it. His lips are warm, a little clumsy but sweet, and the way he holds you—like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him—makes your stomach flip.

When you finally pull away, Peter is breathless.

“I’m so happy right now,” he says, looking at you like you hung the stars.

You smile, brushing a hand through his messy curls. “Good. Because I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.”

Peter’s face lights up, and before you can say another word, he pulls you back in, kissing you again, and again, and again—like he’s trying to make up for lost time.

And honestly?

You’re more than okay with that.

It’s almost ridiculous how unsurprised everyone is when you and Peter officially become a couple. The second you announce it—or rather, the second Peter stammers through telling everyone while blushing like crazy—the reactions are so underwhelming that Peter nearly short-circuits.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Natasha says dryly, not even looking up from cleaning her knives.

“Finally,” Bucky mutters, shaking his head.

“Wait, you guys weren’t already together?” Clint asks, genuinely confused.

Bruce just gives a small, approving nod. Steve claps Peter on the shoulder like he’s just congratulated him on getting a promotion. Even Thor, who’s barely around, chuckles and calls you both “young warriors of love,” which makes Peter go completely red.

But the best reaction comes from Tony.

Because Tony Stark, billionaire genius, mentor, and serial eye-roller, just grins. Not a smirk, not a sarcastic look, but a real, proud, genuine grin.

“About damn time, kid.”

Peter practically chokes.

Tony pats him on the back, almost knocking the air out of him. “Seriously. I was starting to think you were gonna need some kind of intervention.”

Peter blinks. “You—you knew?”

Tony snorts. “Knew? Parker, you’re about as subtle as a wrecking ball. The only one who didn’t know was you.”

Peter sputters, but you’re just smiling. Tony’s approval means a lot to Peter, and you can tell by the way his eyes light up that hearing Tony say he was rooting for him is the best thing that’s happened to him all day.

But of course, because it’s Peter, he has to ruin his own happiness by still being annoyed at Sam.

Ever since the whole fake-boyfriend prank, Peter hasn’t exactly gotten over it. He knows it was just a joke. He knows you only did it to mess with him. He knows Sam doesn’t actually have feelings for you.

But does that stop him from glaring every time Sam so much as breathes near you? Absolutely not.

And Sam? Oh, Sam knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Hey, lovebirds,” Sam calls out one day, waltzing into the common room where you and Peter are curled up on the couch. He doesn’t even sit down before looking straight at Peter and smirking. “Relax, Spidey, I’m not gonna steal your girl.”

Peter bristles immediately. “I wasn’t—”

Sam laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’m just messing with you, kid. Relax.”

Peter does not relax.

And you? You’re getting a little tired of your boyfriend pouting every time Sam so much as looks in your direction.

Which is why, after dinner that night, when Peter is still sulking over Sam calling you “sweetheart” in passing (just to mess with him, of course), you decide to do something about it.

You grab his wrist and pull him toward his room.

Peter stumbles after you, confused. “Uh, Y/N? What’s—”

You push the door open and drag him inside, shutting it behind you. Then, without a word, you shove him onto the bed.

Peter yelps, arms flailing as he lands on his back. “What—?”

You climb onto the bed beside him and immediately wrap yourself around him, curling into his side.

Peter freezes.

You sigh contently, nuzzling into his chest. “There. Now you can stop sulking.”

Peter doesn’t move for a solid five seconds. Then, very slowly, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer.

“…I wasn’t sulking,” he mumbles, but it’s half-hearted at best.

You smile against his shirt. “Yes, you were.”

Peter huffs. “Sam’s just—he’s just annoying.”

You tilt your head up to look at him. “You know he’s only doing it because he knows it gets under your skin, right?”

Peter groans, dragging a hand down his face. “I know. But that doesn’t make it less annoying.”

You chuckle, reaching up to brush some of his curls away from his forehead. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

Peter immediately flushes. “I—I’m not jealous.”

You raise an eyebrow.

He sighs. “…Okay, maybe a little.”

You grin and press a kiss to his jaw. “You don’t have to be. You already won, Peter. I’m yours.”

Peter makes a tiny, happy noise in the back of his throat and buries his face in your hair. “Say it again.”

You laugh. “What? That I’m yours?”

He nods, arms tightening around you.

You shift so that you’re straddling him now, hands resting on his chest as you lean down. “I’m yours, Peter Parker.”

Peter looks up at you, eyes wide and filled with so much awe it makes your heart ache. Then, before you can say anything else, he surges up and kisses you, gripping your waist like he never wants to let go.

The kiss is slow, sweet, and full of emotion. When you finally pull away, Peter just sighs happily and flops back onto the bed, keeping you in his arms.

“You’re ridiculous,” you murmur against his chest.

Peter hums, already halfway to falling asleep. “Maybe. But I love you.”

Your heart skips a beat. He’s never said that before.

You lift your head to look at him, but his eyes are already closed, his breathing soft and even. You smile and press a kiss to his cheek.

“I love you too, Peter.”

And as you settle against him, warm and safe in his arms, you know for a fact—jealousy or not, Peter Parker is yours. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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bookworm551 · 2 years ago

Text

Take The Edge Off | Miguel O’Hara x fem!Spider-reader

You, like so many other Spider-People, are tired of the brooding and serious attitude of Spider-Man 2099. Unlike the other Spider-People, however, you have a solution for his uptight demeanor.

A/N: this is entirely self-indulgent. This man has been living in my head rent-free for weeks now. I’m down bad, y’all. Also, I might make this into a series, who knows

Warnings: smut, PiV, sub Miguel, overstimulation, oral m-receiving, minors (and my roommate) DNI

Word count: 4.9k words

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

The door of your room slid closed behind you, and you let out a large sigh. Today had been exhausting. What started out as a quick an easy anomaly-hunt turned into a fiasco requiring multiple Spider-People to come in as backup, including Miguel. You hated when he joined your missions, he made you feel like you couldn’t handle the job on your own. Plus, you found it harder to concentrate on the missions when his figure was looming over your shoulder.

To make matters worse, you had broken your interdimensional traveling gizmo. It still seemed to keep you from glitching, but you couldn’t seem to communicate with the others with it after accidentally slamming it against a wall earlier that day. You made a mental note to ask Miguel for a new one later, but for now, you just needed to relax.

You peeled off your suit and removed your web shooters and tossed them haphazardly on your bed next to your pillows. You threw on a pair of sweatpants and a tank top before grabbing a quick drink of water from your fridge. When on Earth-928, you lived in a small studio apartment in headquarters like all the other Spider-People. There was just a bed, a small dresser, a kitchenette, and a door that led to your bathroom, but it was nice, and you enjoyed staying there on the days you weren’t in your own dimension.

As you were pulling out a bottle of water from your refrigerator, you heard your door slide open. In walked Miguel O’Hara, still in his suit with an irritated expression painted on his face.

“I don’t know how things work in this dimension,” you said with an eyebrow raised in annoyance, “but where I’m from, we typically knock before entering someone’s room.”

“You’re not answering my calls,” He replied in a serious voice. You huffed in exasperation. “Seriously?” You said. “You’re not going to acknowledge that you just barged into my room unannounced? I could’ve been naked for all you knew.”

Miguel looked down at you with a deadpan face. “You have a lock,” he argued, pointing at the button next to the one that opened the door. “I trust you know how to use it.” You rolled your eyes. “That’s not the point,” you shot back. “The point is that you can’t just barge in here whenever you feel like it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be in here if you answered my calls,” He retorted, crossing his arms over his chest. You let out an annoyed sigh. “My communicator is broken,” you explained, raising your arm to display the damaged watch.

His dark eyes glanced away from your face to the device on your wrist before moving them back to your face. “You broke my gizmo?” He asked in an accusatory tone. You raised your hands defensively. “Hey, I didn’t break it,” you argued weakly. “It was broken…by a wall…that I slammed into. Listen, it was an accident, but I really need a new one.”

Miguel looked unimpressed. One of his eyebrows was raised in disapproval, and his full lips were turned downward in an unsympathetic frown. “I don’t just have a secret stash of watches for you to go through,” he told you in a level voice.

Now, you crossed your own arms over your chest and raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. “Oh, I’m sure you do,” you countered. “You just don’t want to share.” Miguel stiffened a little bit at your accusation. “What do you call all of this that we’re in?” He asked incredulously. “My building, my tech, my universe that I’m sharing with you. You’re welcome.”

You scoffed at him. “Okay, sure,” you conceded. “But don’t act like you don’t need the rest of us to help with your mission.” Miguel didn’t like that, not one bit, and you could tell by how his eyes seemed to darken and his already-tall figure seemed to tower over you menacingly.

“I don’t need you,” he said in a hard voice. You stared up at him defiantly for a moment. It stung just a little bit, but you knew how that the best way to get him to back off was to make him uncomfortable.

Your stare softened as a coy smile pulled at your lips. “I see,” you mused slyly. “You may not need me, but you do want me.”

That did the trick. Miguel’s hardened eyes looked up at the ceiling in exasperation as he let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know why I put up with you,” he muttered under his breath.

You could feel a triumphant smirk growing on your face. “Because your hopelessly in love with me,” You offered as a joke. Miguel’s eyes moved from the ceiling back down to your face with an unamused gaze. “You think you’re so funny,” he said in a monotone voice.

“I know I’m funny,” you replied confidently. “I’m just trying to figure out what went so wrong in this universe that you’re not funny.”

“I can be funny,” he argued in a serious voice.

“Prove it.”

“I don’t owe you any proof.”

“Then I don’t believe you.”

“Fine.”

You smirked up at him knowingly as he stared down at you with his arms still crossed in front of his broad chest. It was so easy to get him riled up, and you loved making a sport of it. You couldn’t help but think he looked so good when he was angry.

“What?” He demanded, noticing your smug look. "I know what's wrong with you," you stated matter-of-factly. Raising an unimpressed eyebrow, he replied, "You?"

"Yes."

In his eyes, you could see a small flash of surprise. He hadn't expected you to agree with him. "Me," you repeated, "Hobie, Peter, and all the other Spider-People here. All that responsibility is driving you mad." He scoffed at your words. "You don't know the half of it," he replied sourly.

You hummed softly and placed a hand on his chest and ran it up to his shoulder. His eyes flashed to your face sharply, and he seemed to stiffen under your hand. "You're so tense," you observed casually, gently squeezing the muscle under your palm. "You should consider taking a break from all of this for a little bit."

He stared down at you for a moment before scoffing again quietly and turning away from you. "This is too important," he said grimly. "The fate of the multiverse rests on the work that we—,"

"Oh my god, Peter is right," you interrupted him with a laugh and roll of your eyes. "You're killing me with all your 'fate of the multiverse' speeches. You need to take the edge off a little bit." You turned away from him as you spoke and took a sip of water from your bottle.

"Take the edge off?" He repeated dubiously. "And how exactly do you suggest I do that?"

You were glad you had your back turned to him because a sly smile pulled at your lips. "There are several ways," you replied casually. "There's drinking, smoking," you paused a moment before adding, "exercising."

"Exercising?" He echoed doubtfully. "I have superhuman strength. Why would I exercise?" You turned back to face him, unable to resist the smirk on your face. "Cardio is good for you whether or not you have superhuman strength," you told him with a shrug.

He caught your suggestive meaning. You could tell by the way his eyes moved from your face to your body for a moment. You even thought his face looked a little red at your insinuation. "I don't have time for that," he said mutely in reply. You laughed. "Oh, you think you're so good that you would disrupt the fate of the multiverse?"

Miguel didn't seem amused, and he looked down at you with a level stare. "I mean that I can't make time for somebody else," he explained. "I have a job to do, and I can't let anybody distract me from it. And for your information, I am that good."

Your lips pulled up in a wry smile, and you raised your hands defensively. "Sorry, didn't mean to challenge your performance," you said. "I didn't know you were sensitive about it."

Miguel huffed at you, glaring down in offense. "I'm not sensitive," he argued.

"Seems like it."

"I am not—," he cut himself off with a sigh and ran a hand down his face. "I don't even know why I'm arguing with you about this," he mumbled. You chuckled softly and crossed your arms again. "Because you are too tense and need to take the edge off a little bit," you answered for him, repeating your words. He opened his eyes to look down at you, completely unamused. "And you want to be the one to take the edge off?" He questioned skeptically.

You placed an affronted hand over your heart in mock offense and asked, "What kind of girl do you take me for, Miguel?" He didn't seem to hear the humor in your voice because he looked away from you as his face flushed in embarrassment.

You couldn't help but smile at his reaction. This was too fun. "You would have to say the magic word first," you told him simply. Miguel's dark eyes returned to your face, and you could tell he was studying you to see if you were being serious.

Taking a few steps forward, you stood directly in front of him. Your head was tilted back as you looked up at him through your lashes. You ran a hand up from his abdomen to his chest, and you noticed how his breathing deepened at your touch. "Please," you told him with a smirk. "Or por favor. Whichever you prefer."

"I don't beg," he replied in a serious tone. You huffed an amused breath as you kept your hand resting over his quickening heart. "That's a shame," you said. "I would've loved to hear it."

Miguel didn't react to your teasing, but you could see now that his eyes were fixated on your smirking lips. Without a word, he raised a hand to your chin, his suit intuitively withdrawing to his wrist so that his bare thumb was running gently across your bottom lip. He was thinking about it. He was tempted.

You parted your lips for him, and Miguel slowly pushed his thumb into your mouth. You welcomed the intrusion and gently ran your tongue along his skin. You could see his jaw flex at the sensation and knew that now, he was really tempted. He pulled his hand back from your face and looked over at the door in contemplation. You had been teasing him, but his hesitation made you excited. He could still go, but you wanted him to stay. You wanted him.

"What do you say, Miguel?" You asked softly. "Do you think the multiverse can survive 10 minutes without you?"

His eyes moved from the door to your face again for a moment. It was difficult to read his expression, and you waited in the heavy silence for him to respond. After a pregnant pause, Miguel turned away from you and walked back to the door.

You felt a pang of disappointment in your stomach as you watched him walk away from you. The sting of his rejection hurt a little more than you had expected, and you felt your face grow warm as a result. When he reached the door, he paused a second before raising his hand to press the button to open your door.

Only he didn't open your door.

He locked it.

When he turned back to you, his eyes were dark with desire. He crossed back over to where you were standing and grabbed your jaw in one hand. He lowered his head until his nose brushed against yours. Then, soft as a feather, he whispered, "I can last a lot longer than 10 minutes."

Before you could say something snappy back to him, Miguel pulled you in for a heated kiss. His tongue slipped in between your lips, causing you to moan softly in his mouth. Your hands slid up his chest and wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to your body. His own hands gripped at your waist and slid under your shirt, pulling the material up your torso.

You broke apart for a moment to allow Miguel to pull your shirt over your head before your lips crashed back together. He took several steps forward until the back of your legs hit the bed, and he pushed you down roughly onto the mattress. He followed down after you, placing a hand next to you for support while the other gripped at your breast through your bra.

"Up," Miguel demanded as his hand tried to reach under your back to unclasp your bra. You arched your body off the bed for him, and he was able to unclip it after a few seconds of blind grasping and threw it on the ground unceremoniously.

Greedy hands roamed across your body as he pressed his mouth to your breasts in sloppy kisses. You moaned at his hot touch, running your hands through his dark hair and pulling his head down to your body. After a few seconds of feeling your soft skin, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your sweatpants and swiftly pulled them off, underwear and all.

You couldn't help but giggle at his eagerness as he took a moment to admire your naked form under him. It was hard to read on his face what he was thinking, but there was the unmistakable look of lust burning in his eyes. You reached a hand up to his chest which was still covered by his suit. "Your turn," you whispered breathlessly.

He stared down at you for a moment before his suit finally retracted to expose the muscles of his body, leaving him only in a pair of black briefs. He looked like a god with his well-defined physique towering over you, and you ran a hand over his tanned skin in awe.

"Fuck me," you gasped softly. "You look so strong." He hummed in response and lowered his lips down onto yours for a quick kiss. "I am strong," he replied in a low voice. "And I am gonna fuck you." With that, he started grinding his hips against yours, and you both gasped softly at the overwhelming feeling of pleasure it gave you.

From under his briefs, you could feel the large bulge of his cock aching to be freed. You reached your hand down to the band of his briefs and tugged them downward. Miguel didn't need to be told what you wanted, and he reached down and hastily removed the small article of clothing from his waist.

You had to take a moment to stare down at Miguel's absolutely massive size. He was without a doubt the biggest you'd ever been with, and you had a moment of doubt about whether or not he would even fit in you. Your eyes glanced up at his face again and saw he was smirking down at you. He must have read the apprehension in your expression, and it made his ego swell. Well, you were never one to back down from a challenge.

Placing a hand against his chest, you lifted yourself up off the bed and pushed Miguel down so that your positions were switched. Now, you were straddling him as he lay on the bed under you. Miguel seemed a somewhat caught off guard by the change, but he didn't seem to mind as he ran his hands up your thighs to your waist in admiration.

"You like it like this?" He asked with interest, his eyes roaming your body above him. You smirked and responded, "Sometimes. I like the view from up here." His lips twitched upwards in amusement. "It's not so bad from here either," he said.

You hummed your appreciation as you moved your hips further down his body where his cock was waiting. You rubbed your wet entrance down his length, causing both of you to moan softly. He pulled at your hips to bring you back up again, obviously eager to be inside you.

You hovered over him for a moment, smirking down at his face. Under your hands, his chest was rising and falling in anticipation, but his face was glaring up at you in frustration. "Don't be a fucking tease," he growled, his fingers digging into your waist. You chuckled at him. "Don't worry," you murmured as you ran your hands up the muscles of his torso. "I'm gonna take care of you."

Sitting upright, you slowly lowered yourself onto him. Miguel closed his eyes and inhaled sharply as you moved inch-by-inch down his thick length. Your fingers dug into the skin of his chest as you took ragged breaths. He was stretching you out like you'd never been before.

A salacious groan tore from your throat as you bottomed out, your hips resting against his. "You're so fucking tight," Miguel whispered, opening his eyes to gaze up at you lustfully. His hands gripped at your ass, urging you to move, to give him the friction you both so desperately craved.

Leaning forward, you rested on your hands planted on his chest and started grinding against his hips. Miguel closed his eyes again, his head pressed back against the mattress as he groaned softly at the feeling of being inside you. You could see all the stress of leading the Spider-Society melt away from his mind as he became fully engrossed in the pleasure you were giving him.

You couldn't help but smirk at the sight of him under you. How often had you imagined this scenario late at night after your missions together? How many times had you admired the shape of his body when you knew he wasn't looking? And now, you were able to see everything, feel everything, and it was even better than you had imagined.

As you grew accustomed to his massive size, you began increasing your pace. The back-and-forth movements you were making caused your clit to drag against his pelvis just right, and the head of his cock was rubbing up against your G-spot in a way that drew quick, breathy moans from your mouth. Miguel was also enjoying you from this position, his large hands still firmly planted on your hips as he guided your movements from below.

His head pressed back against the bed, he groaned. "You look so pretty sitting on me like this, taking every inch of me." You took a shuddering breath at his words, nails digging into his skin as you continued grinding your hips against his. "You're so big, Miguel," you told him breathlessly, closing your eyes. "And you feel so good inside me."

The sound of your gasps filled the space around you. Miguel grunted and began moving his hips up and into yours, pushing himself even deeper into you. "There we go," he mumbled almost to himself. "Keep going like that. Shit, you feel so good."

His words caused another soft groan to emerge from you. You would never admit it, but you had sought out Miguel's approval from the moment he offered you a place in the Spider-Society. Mission after mission, you hoped for a compliment or an acknowledgment of appreciation, but Miguel only seemed to compliment Peter Parker from fucking Earth-13122. Now, hearing his praise fall from his lips as you were riding his dick drove you wild.

You felt yourself growing more desperate for relief, and in your hazy, lust-filled mind, you realized that Miguel was starting to take charge of the situation. His hands were moving you against him as his hips were thrusting up into you. It wasn't that you didn't appreciate it, but you just wanted him to relax, to take a break from leading for once.

You blinked opened your eyes to look down at him. His eyes were red with desire as he stared up at your face, his quiet gasps emerging from his parted lips. The eye contact was electric, and you could only stand to look at his heated gaze for so long before you turned your face aside, and your eyes fixed on your discarded suit next to you.

Even though you couldn't quite think straight, an idea formed in your mind on how you could take back control of the situation.

Taking his hands from your hips, you guided them up your torso toward your breasts. "Que bonita," he murmured, his rough hands following your prompting to explore your body. You sighed as he gripped at your soft skin. "Fuck, Miguel," you moaned softly, still grinding steadily against him and gasping with every rock of your hips. "That's it, babygirl," he told you. "Keep saying my name like that."

And you did. You whispered, sighed, and moaned his name over and over again as you increased your pace on top of him. Your eyes became unfocused as you felt a knot in your stomach start to form, and your breathing started to become ragged. Miguel could sense that you were close, and his hands came back down to your hips to encourage your desperate movements.

You fell forward as you tensed suddenly, nails digging into his chest. Cries of pleasure tore from your mouth as your orgasm completely took over your body. You couldn't think, couldn't speak as you rode out your high against his hips. Miguel groaned at the sensation of you tightening around him, and he watched in awe as you came undone on top of him.

After a moment of blissful pleasure, the sensations all became too much for you, and you had to pause for a moment to regain your breath and wait for your thighs to stop shaking. When you had somewhat regained your ability to think, you leaned down and pressed your lips to Miguel's in a sloppy kiss as you pulled yourself off of his cock.

He grunted at the loss of your warmth around him, and he tried pulling your hips back down on his own. You chuckled at his desperation and moved your lips to brush against his ear. "Don't worry," you whispered, still out of breath from your orgasm. "I'll take care of you." As you spoke, you reached over to your suit and grabbed one of your web shooters and placed it on your wrist as discretely as possible.

You nipped at his earlobe before pulling away, causing him to sigh softly. Gripping Miguel's wrists, you pulled his hands off of your hips and slowly raised them above his head. He didn't resist your directing, he just stared up at your face with lust still burning in his eyes.

You placed his hands next to each other above his head, and before he could lower them again, you shot a web to keep them pinned down. Miguel's head snapped up in alarm, and his arms struggled reactively against his bindings. You couldn't help but smile deviously down at him while his arms flexed in an effort to free himself. He looked so pretty tied up like that.

After a few seconds of resisting, Miguel relaxed his arms and looked back at your face. "I'll get you for this," he told you in a low voice. You smirked down at him and ran your fingers down his face. "I don't doubt it," you replied in a silky voice, tracing the edge of his face and placing two of your fingers on his lips. He parted them for you and gently sucked at your fingers as he closed his eyes.

You took a moment to etch this image of him into your mind. Here was Miguel O'Hara, humorless and authoritarian, tied up beneath you with your fingers in his mouth. It was perfect.

"I'm not done with you yet," you told him sweetly as you began moving lower to where his cock was waiting, still wet from your cunt. You wrapped your hands around his length and moved them up and down experimentally. Miguel's head fell back against your bed as a muffled groan resembling a sigh escaped his mouth. You smiled in satisfaction at his reaction and steadily increased your speed.

"Mierda," he whispered. "Just like that." His abs were flexing at the sensation of your movement, and his hips started bucking upwards like he was trying to fuck your hands. You placed one of your hands down on his thigh to keep him from thrusting while you lowered your mouth onto him, taking as much of his length as you could. What you couldn't fit into your mouth, you continued stroking with your other hand.

Your mouth around his dick caused Miguel to strain against his bindings. A deep growl rumbled in his throat as your head bobbed up and down, causing tears to form in your eyes as you tried not to choke on his massive size.

"Your mouth looks so pretty wrapped around me like that," he groaned, looking down at you. You turned your eyes upwards to meet his, and after a second, you winked and swirled your tongue lazily around his cock.

Miguel nearly came right then, and you could tell. He screwed his eyes shut and turned his head away from you, taking deep, uneven breaths. You lifted your mouth off of him with a crooked grin. "Don't be shy," you lilted. "I want you to cum on me." His breaths became louder and faster. You started increasing the speed of your hand, and the muscles of his thighs and abdomen began to tighten until finally, he was gasping out your name as he came in your hand.

The hot substance landed on your neck and shoulders, and Miguel groaned with his release as his head fell back against the bed in satisfaction. His panting breaths filled the air as you slowed your hand's pace. You didn't stop though. Instead, you smiled deviously before lowering your mouth back down his length, taking as much of him as you possibly could while still moving your hands up and down.

Immediately, Miguel sucked in a sharp breath and began moving restlessly under you, trying to escape the overstimulation you were causing him. You couldn't help but think of how good he looked as he struggled against the bindings of his hands, the muscles of his arms flexing desperately above his head.

Shuddering breaths escaped from Miguel's mouth, and he actually started whining under you. "Basta," he gasped through clenched teeth as he was writhing on your bed. "Párarte. It's too much." You could see that in his desperation, his claws were attempting to cut away at the binding you had placed them under, but they weren't able to catch any of your webbing.

You raised your mouth off of him with a smirk while your hands still moved up and down his length. At this point, his thighs were shaking, and his whole body was flexing with overstimulation. His head was thrown back against the bed with his eyes screwed shut while shaky grunts and gasps filled the air. "What's the magic word?" You asked sweetly, stroking up and down nonstop.

"Porfa," he gasped desperately. "Por favor, please."

The sound of him begging was so sweet, and you were tempted to continue despite his pleas, but you relented. You sat up slowly, watching with satisfaction how his whole body trembled as he recovered from your touch. His rapid breathing was starting to even, and he seemed to sag down into your bed with relief.

You crawled up slowly toward his head, bringing your face inches from his own. You moved your hand up to where his were pinned and ripped away the webbing. He sighed at the relief of being able to move his arms freely again. His eyes were still closed, and his lips were parted as he panted softly. You ran your hand through his hair with a smile, and his eyes opened to look at you. It was difficult to read his expression, but you thought that in his half-lidded eyes, there was something like gratitude.

"I told you I'd take care of you," you murmured softly, your lips brushing lightly across his own before you pressed a lazy kiss on them. He seemed too worn out to kiss you properly, and his mouth moved sloppily against you. "I needed this," he admitted quietly, words mumbled into your mouth. You chuckled at him before pulling away and rolling off the bed.

"Stay as long as you'd like," you offered over your shoulder as you sauntered off to the bathroom for a shower. Even though you couldn't see him, you knew he eyes were fixed on your figure as you closed the door behind you.

You sighed as the warm water washed over you. Letting the water spray on your face, you almost couldn't believe what you had just done. You didn't expect anything substantial to come from this, but you didn't mind. Miguel was a welcome distraction from the shit that you dealt with during your missions. Maybe, you could help relieve each other's stress every once in a while like this.

You weren't sure how long you stayed in the shower. When you finally stepped out, you wrapped a towel around you and stepped back into your room to pull out fresh clothes. You weren't surprised when you found that your room was empty, but there was something that caught your eye on the side of your bed. Crossing over to your bed, a smile grew on your lips when you saw a new wrist gizmo sitting on your pillow for you.

1K notes · View notes

petertingle-yipyip · 2 years ago

Text

Question…? - Miguel O’hara

//the miguel brainrot brought this piece to life tbr. it’s kinda just for shits and giggles but there might be more. depends on how this one does//

Pairing: Miguel O’hara x Reader

Word Count: 3,868

Summary: The latest recruit to the Spider Society hits a bit too close to home for its head honcho. But with great power comes great persistence to get answers.

You landed on the roof of your building and pulled your mask up, wiping a hand down your slightly sweaty face. You looked at the bright display of the neon billboard across the alley and saw the breaking news story of your latest bust of the local Midnight Sons crime syndicate. You smirked slightly as you watched the reporter talk to the police who had to reluctantly admit that you, Arachne, had caught them. He tried to dance around it but the fact that your webs were covering the background made it obvious.

Just as you were about to head inside, you felt a tingle shoot down your spine. An unfamiliar yet not unwelcome sensation crawled across your skin so you quickly replaced your mask and spun around, web shooters ready. Instead of being greeted by a foe, you were greeted with a large and seemingly unstable orange circle that vaguely resembled a doorway.

Before you could say anything, you had to drop to your stomach as a motorbike came barreling through. You rolled to your back and flicked a quick burst from either wrist to latch a web to both tires. You kicked yourself back and pulled the bike with you, forcing its rider to disengage and land on the opposite side of the roof.

“Not bad.” She said, though her back was still to you as you stood slowly. “I knew you were quick, but I didn’t think you’d be that quick.”

“Right… And you are?” You asked carefully. You didn’t feel she was a threat, but something about the way she triggered that sixth sense made you tense. “I mean, you came at me full speed on a motorcycle so you owe me that.”

“Jessica Drew.” She turned to face you and the first thing you noticed was her belly. “And I’m just like you.”

“I’m not pregnant!” You decided quickly, a hand covering your stomach.

She laughed and shook her head. After a second, you hesitantly laughed with her. “I meant the Spider Woman thing.”

“Ah…” You nodded before slowly lifting your mask again. “That’s what I felt?”

“Mhmm..”

“I thought I was the only one.”

“Yes and no.” She moved towards her bike, which you hurried over to beside her. “If you’re interested, there’s someone I think you should meet.”

You followed her through the orange and ended up in a massive complex. There were dozens upon dozens of variations of… you.

A cat version. A monkey version. A dinosaur. A plushie. A cyborg. An avatar. A video game. Other girls, other guys. Any type of Spider variation you could imagine, it was there.

As you were taking it all in, you were hit with the sharpest pain you’d ever had in your life. It took over your entire body, felt as if you were being yanked apart and haphazardly put back together. Your insides felt rearranged and your head spun violently while everything seemed to be ignited. But the pain only lasted for a second.

Jessica told you it was your body glitching from being outside your own universe, which she also explained was granted the official title of Earth-3505. She slipped a blue band around your wrist and you felt every ounce of tension in your body disappear. She explained the device on her wrist, how it kept her from glitching while allowing for travel to any dimension.

You had to admit. All the tech and different universes blew every single theory and experiment you had ever known out of the water.

You were talking with Jessica through the long walk down a rather dark and drafty hall that led to a wide open work area. She called to the man on the platform, which began to lower at an agonizingly slow pace. Awkwardly, you rocked on your heels and fiddled with your web shooters, checking the cartridges and scratching away the dried remnants from your earlier endeavors. You tugged the neck of your suit and dusted imaginary dirt off before running fingers through your hair and giving it a small shake in an effort to look a bit more presentable.

When you heard the gears click into place you looked back and found yourself in utter shock, despite him not even facing you yet.

And as someone who would fight the Bloodstones, a werewolf, and the literal avatar of a god of the moon, it took a lot to render you speechless.

The man on the platform was massive. The width of his chest and shoulders alone was at least the size of a twin mattress. His height towered over yours and you could tell even from the distance he was at. His upper body narrowed ridiculously into his waist, though his legs were proportionately built as well. And covering that Hercules-esque physique was a fitted red and blue suit, just like everyone else you had seen in that building.

So why hadn’t he given you the same tingle Jessica did?

You were snapped out of your thoughts when an elbow came roughly into your ribs.

“What?” You asked quickly, an innocent obliviousness in your voice.

“Introduce yourself.” Jessica hissed.

“Right.” You nodded and took a hesitant step forward. “I’m Y/N, from Earth 35-something.”

“3505.” She whispered.

“Yeah, sorry. Anyways, I’m like you and her and everyone else here… Back home I’m called Arachne, like the.. The myth. I’m sorry, are you not gonna face me?”

“¿Mande?” He said sharply and the sound of his voice drove your pulse to jump.

“If you’re gonna have your back to me the whole time, why am I even here?” You pushed, though your resolve was slowly shattering as you watched him turn around.

The room may have been dimly lit but you could see what looked like a red tint to his eyes.

“Why are you here?” He asked tightly as he hopped off the platform and stalked closer to you. You swallowed hard and flattened your two middle fingers against your palm to feel the trigger for your webs. “Why are-“

His sentence cut off abruptly when he got a few feet away from you.

“Miguel?” Jessica asked from beside you. You had forgotten she was there but you felt a bit more relaxed to know you weren’t alone in that room. “What is it?”

“What did you say your name was?” He asked. His words were intended to be more gentle, more intimate maybe, but they still had enough of an edge to keep your fingers where they were.

“Y/N… And you’re..?”

His face fell at your uncertainty, though you doubted Jessica noticed. He recovered rather quickly, as if your words reminded him of something painful. Something he already knew.

“Miguel O’hara.” He stood a bit taller, if that was even possible.

“It’s nice to meet you… You built all of this?” You asked lamely in hopes to fill the silence that you felt would suffocate you if you ignored.

“Yeah.. It’s a way to preserve the multiverse. Everyone here was hand picked to serve a bigger cause, to protect each other’s universe and canons.”

“I assume that’ll get explained if I get in?” You turned to Jessica who nodded with a small, amused smile.

“¿Perdóname, si entras?” His head cocked as the corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk that you felt was sarcastic. “No.”

“What?” You and Jessica asked at the same time.

“No.” He enunciated, hands at his waist and leaning forward.

“Why not?” You asked angrily, stepping forward with no regard to the size difference. “I can take anyone here!”

“Miguel, she’s really good.” Jessica tried earnestly. “I think you should give her a shot.”

“No.”

“C’mon.” She pressed.

“No.”

“What are you afraid of?” You challenged suddenly and the glare he shot your way made you hesitate.

“Afraid?” He laughed. “Afraid.. I’m not afraid.”

“Then what?”

“She looks just like her.” Miguel said, more to Jessica than you.

“Who?” She asked softly.

Miguel shot her a different look than the one he gave you. This one has more longing, more pain. You looked like someone he used to know. Likely someone he lost.

“Lyla.” Jessica said softly, waiting a moment for a hologram woman in a fur coat to appear at her shoulder. “Show Y/N around a little more, please.”

“Who- Oh.” The hologram spoke before disappearing and reappearing in front of you. She leaned in and lifted her heart shaped glasses before blinking away and reappearing up at Miguel’s side. A quick back and forth of hushed comments brought her back to you as she ushered you out of the room.

Lyla spoke quickly to you, bouncing around within your field of vision. She pointed out different Spider People, different villains. She showed you the machine that sent people home and the training center. While you were wandering the vast exercise area, you met two boys playfully roughhousing who seemed to create the golden retriever with black cat meets boys will be boys dynamic.

“Ooh! Who’s the new girl?” One of them ran up to you with a palpable excitement.

“Y/N Y/L/N.” You smiled and the other one leaned in close.

“Look at that.” He said with a small smirk, seemingly changing color with each sentence. “Got little fangs and all. That’s mad.”

“Whaaaat? Let me see!” The first one pushed the taller one aside and replaced him, though he leaned in significantly closer.

“I’m guessing these aren’t normal for Spiderman.” You laughed and gently pushed him back. “What’re your names?”

“Hobie, Hobie Brown.” He offered you a short salute.

“Pavitr Prabhakar.” He gave an extravagant bow. “How long have you been a spider person?”

You blew out a sigh and tried to calculate the numbers. “A few years? It happened my senior year of high school, and then the two years there... And then.. All I know is its been a while. You guys?”

“Couple months.” Pavitr answered with a small hop. “It’s been so easy.”

“Three years.” Hobie answered simply. “And yeah, it’s not bad. Your universe a mess, then?”

“I think mine is a weird one based on what you guys have said.” You answered awkwardly. “Werewolves, swamp things, Egyptian gods, monster hunters.”

“Sounds like a fantasy book.” Hobie scoffed.

“That’s the Midnight Sons for you.” You shrugged. “There’s normal stuff too, like other vigilantes. Daredevil and Black Cat and the Widow.”

“Were they bitten by a spider too?” Pavitr added with wide eyes.

“Who, Widow? Not that I know of.”

“How’d you get the little-“ Hobie made a vague fang gesture. “You a vampire, too?”

“Well, no.” You rubbed a hand over your mouth, suddenly embarrassed of your teeth.

“You’ve got everything else. Figured you had the little blood suckers and allat.”

“There’s rumors of one guy but I haven’t met him.. Actually, the spider that bit me was a mix between the same thing that created my world’s Goblin and just the radioactive spider. It was supposed to be able to cure something but…” You shrugged.

“Do they do anything?” Pavitr asked, still looking at your mouth intently. He slowly reached a finger forward so you leaned away and gently pushed his hand to the side.

“Uh..” Your brows furrowed. “Idunno.” You mumbled as you shrugged.

“You’ve never tried to bite anyone?” He laughed and Hobie facepalmed gently. “I totally would’ve.”

“I’ll try it when I get home.” You laughed slightly. You glanced around and noticed the AI woman - Lyla - was nowhere to be seen. “Can I ask you guys something?”

“Go for it.” Hobie nodded and Pavitr’s head bounced up and down like a bobble head.

“The little AI, Lyla… Does she see everything?” You asked quietly.

“You trynna do somtin’ you shouldn’t, aye?” Hobie quirked a brow.

“I wanna try to talk to Miguel but I get the feeling that she’ll keep me away.”

“Why?” Pavitr whispered loudly,

“Cause he sent me away, said I looked too much like someone.”

“Oy, Pav.” Hobie nudged the smaller boy before leaning down and plotting quietly. They went back and forth for a few moments before looking back at you. “Make it quick, yeah?”

“I owe you.” You grinned.

Pavitr and Hobie shared a small fist bump before Pavitr reached his fist towards you. You chuckled slightly and returned the gesture before the two ran off. It was only a few moments before sprinklers went off in the room. Lyla popped in and out of view, speaking rapidly and tapping small screens in front of her. She appeared in front of you, disheveled glasses and jacket hanging from her shoulders.

“Do. Not. Move.” She said firmly and you held hands up in surrender. She pointed two fingers at her eyes before pointing to you, gesturing up and down your body before disappearing again.

You leaned around slightly to ensure her digital frame was nowhere to be seen before you booked it out of the room. Your wet feet slipped on the sleek tiles so you opted to swing across the complex and back to Miguel’s workspace.

You wiped a damp hand across your face as you entered the hall again before you pulled yourself to the ceiling and crawled down the long corridor. Jessica left in a huff, muttering that he was unreasonable and that she wasn’t done. You watched her freeze and turn around, squinting her eyes in suspicion. You stayed still above her in hopes that she wouldn’t find you but with the water subtly dripping from your suit and hair, you thought you were caught. With a small smirk, she turned back and left.

You blew out a small sigh and continued down your path until you reentered Miguel’s wide open room. His back was towards the entrance as he vigorously typed and swiped various projections away. He was muttering to himself, broken Spanglish as he worked in that increasingly frazzled state. His head cocked over his shoulder as you clung to the space above the door.

“¿Qué estás haciendo?” He asked tightly, unable to face you fully. “And why are you wet?”

“I just…” You spoke, realizing you had no idea how to start. “May like some explanations.”

“I don’t have to explain anything to you.” He spoke simply, clearly trying to shut down the conversation.

“Okay, but… What if I just ask some general questions that have simple answers? Is that okay? I mean, can I ask you a question? Well a couple, but you know what I mean.”

“Can you please stop, just for a second?“ He sighed and pressed his palms against the table. You pursed your lips slightly and drummed your fingers against the wall while you waited for him to say something. “You don’t take ‘no’ for an answer, do you?”

“I don’t usually have to beg like this.” You confessed. You shifted your feet and leaned your shoulders against the wall behind you, allowing your hands to aim webs at the edge of his platform. You pulled yourself over and stood in front of him. “Miguel, please…”

“Ay, dios mío. You sound just like her, too.” He spoke to himself, though the desperation in his voice was hard to miss.

“Listen, if you don’t want me here because whoever I remind you of, that’s not good enough of a reason.” You insisted. Your words finally got him to turn and face you, which really drove home just how big he was. You gave a nervous chuckle and crossed your arms in an attempt of defiance. “I can prove myself against anyone here. I know I can do this!”

“It’s not about whether you’re-“ He began before he leaned down closer. You pulled back and teetered the edge of the platform. “What was that?”

“You got a little close.” You defended with a shrug.

“Not that, cariño.” He shook his head. “Open your mouth.”

“Okay!” You said loudly, trying to push him by his chest. “That’s not how you- Ugh! Whatthehellare-“

Your words became an incomprehensible jumble of syllables when his hand came to your face, fingers pressing gently on your cheeks to keep your lips apart. His pointer finger was free to manipulate your upper lip, exposing one side of your mouth. With a satisfied smirk, he let you go.

“Thought so..” He offered a lazy smirk. “Lemme see your hands.”

“Is this like.. part of the initiation process or something?” You tried to joke as you held up one hand. He took it by your wrist and gave your palm a gentle prod, just missing the trigger for your web shooter. “What are you looking for?”

“You always talk this much?” He mumbled with a small eye roll as he let go of your hand.

“It’s just a question.” You muttered and poured slightly.

He sat back on the edge of a table behind him, allowing for a more even eye line. But even at the new lowered height, he was definitely taller than you.

“How can anyone focus around you?” He said with a shake of his head.

“I can put the mask on, if it helps.” You offered awkwardly, reaching for the side pouch you usually tucked it away in.

Miguel looked back at you and laughed. A seemingly genuine sound that, up until that moment, you weren’t entirely sure was possible.

You took the opportunity to move away from the edge of the platform and stand more in front of him. Your hands rested lazily behind you and you simply looked at him for a minute.

The obvious physical stature was still as intimidating as ever but there was something in his expression. Something haunted, something guilty. However, when his eyes met yours, there was a softness there. A certain longing.

How does anyone focus around you? You thought as you took in his features for a little longer.

“You always stare like that when you’re not talking?” His brows raised with a slight smile as his arms crossed over his chest.

“Not usually.” You answered with a shrug of one shoulder in an attempt to ignore the blush creeping across your cheeks. “I take it you didn’t find what you were looking for with my hand, but you didn’t send me away again so maybe that was a good thing… Maybe I can…”

“Go ahead and ask your questions.” He nodded, adding a tired sigh at the end as if to say he was giving in. You thought he was curious as to what you wanted to know.

“What’s the big deal about my teeth?”

“Your teeth..” He chuckled slightly. “Most of the spiders around here don’t have fangs, cariño.”

“Right but why do you care?”

“Cause I have them too.”

“What do yours do?”

“Paralysis. Yours?”

“Dunno.” You confessed. “I’ve never bit anyone. Can I see?”

“No.”

“C’mon!”

“No.”

“Fine.”

You flicked a web at his chest and yanked him to lean forward, earning a small Spanish exclamation from him. You kept hold of the web with one hand and put the other on his shoulder as you leaned in slightly. His eyes darted between yours in slight shock before he broke into a small smile, enough for you to see a moderately more pronounced version of the same teeth in your mouth.

“Woah.” You said quietly as your eyes drifted to where your webs met his suit. “Wait..”

“What is it?” He asked lowly and the tone sent a shiver down your spine.

“Your suit. It’s all tech?”

“Mhmm.”

“That’s so cool.” You breathed with a smile, which faded as you squinted and noticed a falter in the colors. “It’s like a projection, which means if I…” You gave another slight tug on your web and watched the distortion of the colors where your palm was pressed against him. You laughed slightly before looking back at Miguel.

The web suddenly snapped and you stumbled backwards. You looked down and saw the excess still wrapped around your wrist. The tensile strength was much stronger than that so it shouldn’t have betrayed you so suddenly. It had never failed before. Turning your head back to Miguel, you saw the projections from the pads of his fingers.

“You were looking for claws?” Your brows raised as your head jerked towards his hand. “You could’ve asked.”

He simply shrugged.

“Let me ask you something…” He said calmly as he leaned back to his originally sitting position. “Why do you wanna be here so bad?”

“Good girl.” You gestured to yourself. “Sad boy.” You gestured to him and he shook his head with a scoff. You offered a small smile before wandering in a small circle, your back now to Miguel. “We all have this one thing going on.. And it’s always one thing after another, situations and circumstances and miscommunications. Losing people and losing fights, it’s all part of the job but… Honestly, I don’t know why. Maybe I just like the idea of not being alone, of not being the only one.”

You turned back to face him and saw he hadn’t looked away.

“It’d be nice to not be the only one with fangs, either.” You smiled, flashing your pointed teeth.

“You never told me why you’re wet.” He commented after a brief moment of silence.

“Oh.” You laughed nervously. “Funny story.”

You heard the muttered complaints come down the hall at the same time the tingle of another spider person hit your skin. Your eyes went wide when Lyla popped up in front of you, glaring at you with tightly crossed arms. You offered an innocent smile with hands up in surrender.

“Y/N!” Pavitr yelled with a wide grin as he entered the room, Hobie sulking behind him. The boy turned and began patting his friend’s shoulder excitedly. “It worked!”

“What worked?” Miguel turned to you.

“Those two-“ Lyla said angrily as she appeared in front of Miguel and pointed at the two spidermen. “-set of a fire alarm in the training center.”

“And that was your idea?” He looked to you again.

“Nah, mate.” Hobie answered casually. “Was all me.”

“You?” He shouted and then wiped a hand down his face. “I don’t- I can’t deal with you right now. Both of you, go help mop up and dry the training center. Just- Get out of my sight.”

Hobie offered you a salute before sauntering out, Pavitr quick on his heels. You smiled to yourself before you hopped off the platform, shooting a quick web to help control your descent.

“Where are you going?” Miguel called after you, causing your stride to pause. You spun to face him with a playful smile.

“To help clean up.. They did it so I could talk to you, after all.” You shrugged.

“Come back here when you’re done.” He tossed a device your way, the same device the other spiders had around their wrists.

“Gonna miss me already?” You teased as you fit it to your wrist, replacing the temporary band you were given.

“Always, cariño.”

You realized you hadn’t found out anything in regards to who you looked like from Miguel’s past, but with the confirmation that you’d come back, you figured you’d find out in time.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #spiderman fanfic #spiderman 2099 #2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 fic #across the spiderverse #smatsv #across the spiderverse fic #spiderverse fic #spiderverse x reader

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mandobatemans · 2 years ago

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nsfw miguel o'hara (spider-man 2099) headcanons (f!reader)

MINORS DNI!!!!!!!!

warnings: biting, edging, knife play lowkey but not really, bondage, size kink, breeding kink, oral (m & f receiving), if i missed any lmk, NSFW UNDER THE CUT

word count: 599

also posted on ao3

•fangs. let's talk about them.

• you’re kind of obsessed with them

• you like to lick his fangs while you’re making out, dragging your tongue over the sharp teeth while he’s gripping your hair in his hand

• when he has his mouth on your tits he bites the flesh there ever-so-gently, holding eye contact with you the whole time

• that sends you right over the edge

• speaking of edging, in a perfect universe, miguel would be able to hold out and edge you for hours

• but your begging and whining is just too pretty and goes right to his dick, so he always gives in fairly quickly

• he can put up with a lot of shit, but with you moaning underneath him, he’d give you anything you asked for

• his talons.

• imagine knife play but it’s with his talons. yeah.

• those things can tear into metal but your miguel would never let you get hurt

• you mark each other up all the time. he scratches up your back just as much as you scratch up his

• being a spider-person comes with certain responsibilities around powers. that being said, he will use webs as an assist in your bondage play

• who needs rope or a tie when you have high-tech webs?

• if you EVER told another spider-person how he uses his webs in the bedroom, he would vehemently deny it. he has to set a good example, of course

• LOVES pinning you against surfaces: the wall, your bed, upside down on the ceiling, you name it

• you guys have had sex upside down on the bedroom ceiling before. there are perks to sticking to walls

• little bit of a size kink. like, dude is HUGE. he’s convinced (and you aren't complaining) that his shoulders were made so your legs could be thrown over them

• the first time you sleep together, he’s extremely gentle with you, letting you set the pace as you adjust to his size

• once you've been together for a while, though, assuming you’re okay with it and up for it that night, he’ll push right into you without giving you time to adjust and set a punishing pace the second he’s seated in you

• sometimes he’ll put his hand on your belly to feel his cock drilling into you through your stomach

• he could eat you out for hours

• holds your legs open with all of his strength and licks and laps at you until you’re screaming his name and gripping at his hair for leverage

• he has powers, yeah, but his real powers are the duo of his nose and tongue, one rubbing your clit and the other exploring your cunt

• he’d prefer to pleasure you, but won't say no to you returning the favor

• it takes everything in him not to fuck your face, you just look so pretty with him down your throat

• when you give him the okay, he loses any ounce of composure he had and is thrusting into your mouth until drool and tears mix on your chin

• when you open your mouth wide to show him you swallowed, he praises you, calling you a good girl in Spanish or English, depending how quick he recovers from his orgasm

• probably has a breeding kink too

• cums in you, collects what drips down your thighs on his fingers, then finger fucks it back into you

• he desperately wants you to have his baby

A/N: guys i will write 100 more of these if you want me to. i have miguel brainrot and i have it BAD.

#my fic #headcanons #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o hara x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 #spider-man 2099 #across the spiderverse #atsv

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bitchyycapricorn · 2 years ago

Text

Sticky

MCU!Peter Parker x Reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 2.4K

Synopsis: Peter Parker loves to play with fun gadgets he finds around the Stark tower. Especially when it comes from an alien space ship. Which is exactly how you end up completely pressed to the ceiling of Peters room without knowing when you’ll come down.

Warnings: Smut!! Oral (f receiving), P in V, language, probably disappointing Mr. Stark

AN: lightly edited

Peter bursts through his bedroom door at the speed of light. “Y/N! Y/N!” Peter shouts, his eyes scanning his room for any signs of life. You peak your head out from under the covers, a small smile forming on your tired face.

“Hey Peter,” you mumble sleepily, snuggling your head into Peter’s pillow. “You’re home from Stark Towers already?” You hum groggily.

Peter shuffles over to his bed, plopping down next to your curled-up figure. “Mr. Stark helped me design new web shooters and-and I wanted to show you them,” Peter beams. A soft smile spreads across your face as you watch Peter shuffle around inside the black bag he brought home.

“Ah, damnit.” Peter mumbles pulling out some sort of gun filled with lava pink liquid. “I brought home the wrong bag. This is the anti gravity stick gun.” Peter frowns.

Your eyes shoot open wide, the aspect of an anti gravity sticky gun intriguing you. “Did you say anti gravity? Your smile widens as you sit up fully to take a look at the gun in Peter’s hand.

“Yeah, but we can’t you know…use it.” Peter laughs as he goes to put the gun back in the bag. Your hand is quick to stop his, wrestling the gun out of his grip. “Y/N/N, no, we can’t,” Peter pleas with you. “If Mr. Stark find out he’ll have my suit!” His words mean nothing to you in this moment, you’re too busy examining the cool piece of alien tech that Peter “accidentally” brought home.

“There’s no way you ‘accidentally’ brought this home, you were totally messing around with Tony’s gadgets again weren’t you!” A smirk tugs at your lips as you continue to examine the bright pink liquid.

Peter groans, throwing himself back on the bed. “Okay! So I got sticky fingers and was messing with some of Mr. Stark’s stuff. But I really did accidentally bring it home! I had two identical bags, one with the anti-gravity gun and the other with my webshooter upgrades. Bruce just walked into the lab and I got scared and threw the gun back into the bag and without thinking took off with the wrong bag…” Peter babbles.

“Wicked,” you grin, pointing the gun at Peter. “So if I shoot you with this…”

“No no, I shot a flowerpot to the ceiling and it was still stuck up there when I left, I was playing with the gun for over an hour.” He replies sternly.

You let out a small laugh “Oh, so I’m definitely sticking your sticky ass to the ceiling.” You’re still pointing the gun at Peter when he goes to take it back from you. As you wrestle for the gun, a beam of light shoots out of it and the next thing you know you’re on Peter’s ceiling.

“Y/N!” Peter squeaks. Your whole body is pressed up into the ceiling, limbs completely frozen. Arms and legs both slightly spread out. “Um, shit what do we do?” Peter looks at the gun again as if there will be directions written on the outside explaining how to reverse the effects.

“I feel like I’m not even allowed to be mad,’ You let out a laugh, looking down at a panicking Peter. “This is actually really cool, I feel so firm.”

“Y/N, this is not the time to be messing around, we need to get you down.” Peter’s face is pale and sweaty as he examines your body being pressed against his ceiling by some weird alien magic. His eyes wander from how silly your hair looks fluffing out, down to how nice your figure looks, completely trapped and unable to move. Peter tries pushing the thought away, hating his sudden urge to crawl up on the ceiling with you and experience what its like to make you scream while you’re stuck. That’s when it hits him, “I’m coming up with you, I’ll see if I can pry you off the ceiling okay?”

You scrunch your face up at his words, not liking that he’s making you come down already. “Come on Peter, this is so cool. See if you can move my limbs into different positions first.” Peter disappears from your view for a moment before he’s hovering… below you?

“Why do you insist on making things difficult by messing around?”

“Because.” You state simply. Peter rolls his eyes, gently tugging at your arm. Your arm easily swings forward before quickly being pulled back to the ceiling. “Whoa, do that again it felt weird. I feel like my whole body is ten times more sensitive right now.”

Peter pulls your arm again, it comes forward before reattaching to the ceiling, his mind racing from your words. He can’t help but wonder if your whole body is more sensitive. “We need to get you down now.” He urges, knowing that if you’re up here any longer he won’t be able to help himself. It was always a fantasy of his to fuck you on the ceiling, or high up on a wall. He just never trusted himself enough to go through with it. But now that you were already up here, he couldn’t help but feel the urge to start fucking you senseless.

“Peter, earth to Peter Parker,” you coo, trying to get your boyfriends attention.

Peter blinks, refocusing his gaze onto yours, “sorry, sorry I was just thinking.” His face flushes red as he begins to crawl down to your legs.

“You couldn’t have been normal and gone around my body? You had to crawl over me didn’t you?” You ask, watching has Peter’s body hovers over yours on his way down to try and unstick your feet permanently. “Your dick is in my face, and it’s hard.” You mumble, a blush spreading across your face now.

“S-shit sorry!” Peter tries to move out of your face by backing up, only to find he’s made it worse by dropping his hips too low and smacking you in the face with his boner.

Your body begins to shake with laughter, “Ow, I just got a face full of sweatpants dick.”

Peter freezes, hoping down from the ceiling completely. “I don’t think I’m getting you down.” He admits, his face was a brighter red than before as he looks up at you.

You let out a small hum, looking down at your embarrassed boyfriend. “Well, you got any ideas how we can pass the time?”

“I won’t admit anything.” Peter replies, quickly adverting his gaze.

“That made absolutely no sense dork, do you have any ideas or not?”

“None that I’m willing to admit.” He continues to avoid your gaze, focusing only on the closet door.

“You should come up here and fuck me then,” you tease, eyeing his still obvious boner.

Peter’s face goes pale, looking up at you again. “Does the gun give you the ability to read minds too?”

A laugh erupts from your chest a you goto shake your head ‘no,’ only to realize you can’t. “No Peter, I can’t read minds but I can read the message your massive boner sent me while it was in my face.”

“That’s not funny, you scared me. I thought you could tell what I was thinking and that you’d start yelling at me for thinking about how good your boobs look in such a dire situation.” Peter pauses, realizing he just admitted exactly what he didn’t want you to know. “Never mind, don’t listen to me ever again.”

“You think my boobs look good?” You beam.

“Stop.” Peter warns, feeling his blush return.

“Oh my god Parker, just get up here and fuck me.” You groan. Peter hesitates for a moment before giving you a small nod and jumping up onto the ceiling. He starts at your legs, repositioning them so your feet are pressing against the ceiling while your knees are bent. Once he’s got you properly repositioned, you feel him crawling between your legs. “Peter…what are you doing?” You can feel his hands grabbing onto your pajama shorts.

“Fucking you, like you asked so kindly.” A smirk settles on Peters face as he rips your pajama shorts down the middle seam, watching as they fall off your body and to the ground.

“Peter!” You cry, looking down at your now torn shorts.

“Well I had to get them off you!” Peter defends, slowly ripping your underwear off you as well. You let out a gasp as the cool air hits your heat, feeling your whole body flush under Peters warm touch, “Tank-top is next.” He smirks, tearing open the fabric to reveal your bare chest. The cold air washes over your, making you shiver as much as the magic would let you. Peter grabs your wrists, guiding your arms so they’re pinned above your head. “Is this what you want pretty girl?” He hums against your neck. His lips slowly leaving a trail of kisses down your body.

You let out a sharp moan “Y-yes,” his lips causing you to completely forget about your torn cloths on the ground. He continues to kiss down your neck until he reaches your tits. His right hand gently creasing the swell of your breast making you let out another moan. Leaning down, Peter brought your hard nipple into his mouth. Another moan escapes your lips as you fight to press your chest into Peters face, but with no success. You’re completely stuck, unable to move. Peter smirks against your boob at the attempt, continuing to swirl his tongue around your extremely sensitive nipple. “Fuck Peter,” you groan, wanting more than anything to run your fingers through his soft brown curls. Peter switches over to your other tit, giving the other nipple some attention as well.

The room fills with your soft moans as Peter kisses his way down your body and to your hot cunt. He pulls away for a moment, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh before dragging his bottom lip down your thigh and back to your aching cunt. His head dips between your legs as you feel his tongue slowly slipping between your folds. The tip of his tongue makes contact with your clit, gently swirling around the sensitive bundle of nerves causing you to let out a throaty moan. Peter’s arms slide around your thighs, pulling your body closer ever so slightly as he continues to eat you out. His face buried in your soft cunt, lick and sucking on your swollen clit.

A knot begins to form in your stomach within a few seconds and your realize just how sensitive your body really feels. The feeling of Peters mouth pleasuring you makes your body a shaking mess against the ceiling. Your limbs feel like they’re on fire as pleasure courses through your whole body. Pressing your head against the ceiling as hard as you could, you feel your orgasm wash over you. A sharp cry escapes your lips, your whole body convulsing from your release.

Peter slowly comes up from your cunt, a smile plastered on his face. “I see someone enjoyed that a little too much.” He teases, placing a soft kiss to your lips. You let out a small groan in response, your whole body still pulsating. You keep your eyes on Peter as he begins to strip from his sweatpants and white T-shirt. His abs flexing as he miraculously manages to strip while still on the ceiling.

“Look at my sticky boy,” you giggle as you admire the way the light makes his abs appear to glow.

Peter grins, crawling over, well under, your body and positioning his hips between your thighs. “I’m about to make you real sticky.” You raise your eyebrow at his comment, noticing the cheeky grin on his face. “You ready?” He asks, his hand slipping between your bodies to position himself.

“Mhm,” you hum, feeling Peter slides into you slowly. The sensation of Peter thrusting up into you is completely foreign and completely surreal. Your body bounces ever so slightly up against the ceiling and you feel as though you could fall at any moment.

Yet, your body stays put, allowing for Peter’s hips to snap up into yours. His thrusts are sloppy and deep, feeling out your new position. A sigh escapes your lips as Peter leans up to kiss along your neck.

“How does this feel baby?” He whispers softly in your ear.

A shiver runs down your spine, all of your muscles contracting at the hot breath on your ear and neck. “It feels so good Peter,” you moan softly, desperately wishing you could wrap your arms around his neck. Peter gives you a warm smile, kissing your cheek as his pace speeds up. His thrusts becoming more even and deep, fucking you straight up and into the cold ceiling.

“Wanna see a trick?”

“Trick?” You laugh, watching as Peter detaches his hands from the ceiling, leaving him on just his knees. He looks up at you with a smirk, gripping onto your thighs as he continues to fuck you at an inhuman speed. His nails digging into your soft skin as he hangs upside down thrusting into you.

You close your eyes, letting out a string of moans, loving the way he feels deep inside of you. “Fuck Peter, I’m close again.” You felt like you were on fire, your whole body overly sensitive to Peter’s touch and rough thrusts.

“Do it then” Peter grunts, his cock sliding in and out of you even harder. You push your head up into the ceiling, mouth falling open as another wave of intense pleasure hits you, throwing you completely over the edge. A scream escapes your lips followed by Peters name as you come down from your high.

Peter lets out a deep moan, throwing his body back up so his hands were once again sticking to the wall. You could feel his cock twitching inside of you, thrusting deeper and deeper before pulling out quickly. Hot spurts of cum shooting out and falling back down onto Peter’s stomach and chest.

“Fucking gravity,” Peter groans.

You burst out laughing at Peter’s scrunched up face. “I told you that you were my sticky boy.” You tease. Peter grumbles something under his breath and you let out another laugh.

Your eyes widen only seconds later when you notice you suddenly feel heavier than normal. Your body detaches from the ceiling sending both you and Peter tumbling down onto his bed. “Great now I’m sticky too,” you groan.

Peter smirks, “Told you I’d get you sticky.”

+++

TAGLIST

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ms-demeanor · 1 year ago

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Hi there! Firstly, wanna say a huge thank you: your blog has inspired me to become more educated about cybersecurity and nutrition, and it’s the reason my brother and I now use Firefox! I came across this article and… it seemed to raise a lot of valid points about Mozilla, but I have no idea if they are true or not since I’m not that knowledgeable about tech, and they go against everything I’ve ever heard about Firefox. Wanted to ask if you wouldn’t mind giving it a quick read, if that’s not too much trouble, and explaining why it’s false/true? If you can, ofc, I realise that is a weird request, and I promise it&: not something I’d usually ask someone. I just thought I’d ask since you’re the only sort of ‘tech’ person I can think of whom I’d trust to know stuff about this. https://digdeeper.neocities.org/articles/mozilla

So this is a great example of someone reading a ToS uncharitably and extracting the most paranoid bullshit possible.

Aside from the absolute classic "oh noes they are storing info about what devices you use" (if you use firefox logged in mozilla will collect information about what device and OS you use to connect; they do this for a lot of reasons like figuring out what stuff the bulk of their users are using but also because *they can't display on your device without that data*) I want to zoom in on this as an example:

BTW, there is one really funny thing inside the account ToS (MozArchive) that I just have to mention: "We may suspend or terminate your access to the Services at any time for any reason, including [...] our provision of the Services to you is no longer commercially viable." The fuck? If you stop bringing them profit, you're gone. They really said that! To me, this is a roundabout admission that your data is being sold. And if it's not worth much (for whatever reason), then you get kicked out.

This person is highlighting the idea that they may cut you off from services if the provision of those services is no longer commercially viable. This author is saying "FIREFOX WILL BOOT YOU WHEN YOU STOP BEING A PROFITABLE LITTLE PAYPIG FOR THEM"

But. Okay. Let's go look at that section of the ToS:

These Terms will continue to apply until ended by either you or Mozilla. You can choose to end them at any time for any reason by deleting your Mozilla account, discontinuing your use of the Services, and if applicable, unsubscribing from our emails. We may suspend or terminate your access to the Services at any time for any reason, including, but not limited to, if we reasonably believe: (i) you have violated these Terms, (ii) you create risk or possible legal exposure for us; or (iii) our provision of the Services to you is no longer commercially viable. We will make reasonable efforts to notify you by the email address associated with your Mozilla account or the next time you attempt to access the Services. In all such cases, these Terms shall terminate, including, without limitation, your license to use the Services, except that the following sections shall continue to apply: Indemnification, Disclaimer; Limitation of Liability, Miscellaneous.

Bud. This says "we are not obligated to provide services to you and we may stop providing services that cost us more money to maintain than is viable." This isn't about selling your data, this is about backwards compatibility and sunsetting projects. They don't have to keep providing access to services they're no longer developing nor bend over backwards to make sure that you can keep running a version of the browser that uses the extensions they dropped support for ten years ago.

Ugh. I got to the section where they talk about cucking for manifest3 and jesus this asshole. Manifest 3 is a defacto set of web standards that are changing because google has so much market share as a browser that if they do something everybody else has to follow or they're going to break basic functionality; if they don't make these changes eventually a shitload of websites just will not work on firefox. WAY more than currently experience this problem. Nobody is happy about manifest 3 and the fact that mozilla put out a press release about coming manifest 3 changes (that was not positive!) doesn't mean they're happy about getting dragged along by the nose; this blogger would prefer something like them refusing to adopt those standards, but all that would happen is that they'd lose more users because less shit would work on firefox browsers since people write their sites for chrome first and anything else second if at all.

This writer also gripes a lot about things like "mozilla took away this functionality for the sake of security and SURE you can change that by going into the configurations but it should be an option right in the first panel of the settings what are they really trying to hide???" and they're not trying to hide anything bud they're trying to make a functional browser with intuitive menus for people who aren't power users.

Like they want to be able to do everything they want and they want to be able to see the option in front of them at all times. It's a weird combination of "I know how to configure everything about this browser" and "if a setting is ever hidden behind a readmore it's a dark pattern and is an attack on user privacy." Like they gripe a lot about privacy and then link to a bunch of pages on mozilla where they explain their privacy settings and link to tutorials on how to hide the data that they just explained they collect.

Yeah this is someone I would walk away from in order to avoid getting into a fistfight.

"FOSS licenses are nice but they don't ensure quality" nobody said they did.

"FOSS licensed softwares don't always accept user participation in development" nobody said they did

"I can't change the actual code of firefox to remove things that I don't like don't tell me to fork it it has to be all or nothing mozilla specifically has to do what I want or it's user hostile" I can see why it would be hostile to you as a user fuck you dude this is why forks *exist* (also the "spyware" discussed is basic browser tracking stuff, the realistic necessities of how email work that make it not private by default like the PROTOCOLS are not private you can't get around that, and a lot of the stuff is opt out but improves functionality for day to day users, AND a lot of the tracking is specifically for people with logged-in accounts which are not necessary to use firefox like if you hate pocket don't use it my friend! I also hate pocket it is quite simple to never use it thanks)

"There's no justification for making the source code unavailable" my dude. https://hg.mozilla.org/mozilla-central/

"If they really cared about an open internet they'd work toward killing capitalism." Friend. I think there's very little more that a web browser could do to undermine the capitalist nature of huge chunks of the web and maintain a broad userbase than what firefox is doing.

I'm reminded of the time that I saw someone losing their shit about a linux distro that included chrome as *a* browser - not the default browser, but *a* browser.

It is an unpleasant fact that a lot of firefox's funding comes from google. That's part of why google is still the default search engine in Firefox and I read some similar articles decrying mozilla's residence firmly in Google's pocket a few years ago. I don't think there's anyone at mozilla who is genuinely pleased that their cheques are signed by google, but there are a ton of people at mozilla who are happy they can keep the lights on because getting paid by google means that they can do as much as they possibly can to create a functional browser that has a significant interest in privacy by default and that can be made *VERY* private by a dedicated user.

Anyway a lot of the stuff on this post is things like "a certificate expired five years ago and broke extensions and that means that mozilla is incompetent and hates users" or "eleven years ago there was a slapfight in the bug reporting forums between a user and a mod and the fact that the user was kicked after repeatedly being told his fix wasn't going to get made is censorship."

The big beefs at the center of this post are:

Mozilla collects data on users

Mozilla limits functionality that should be up to the users

Mozilla takes money from google

and my refutations are:

it does, and it is less than any other mainstream browser and is much much more transparent about what data is collected and how to prevent that data from being collected

A lot of the functionality they're discussing is still there and the stuff that isn't is allowing unsigned extensions which, dude, put a fork in it. They're not going to budge on unsigned extensions but the bar you have to clear to get signed is really really low; like this guy is LITERALLY saying "allow the installation of malicious extensions."

Yep. They do. This point reminds me of a lot of the people on tumblr who hate ads but also hate it when people pay for tumblr. As it turns out making things costs money, and making things used by millions of people costs *A LOT* of money.

I mean FFS one of the things this writer complains about is that Mozilla has a YouTube page.

This isn't just letting perfect be the enemy of good, it's letting perfect be the enemy of *functionally existing as a large organization in the modern world.*

Anyway, I'm glad you enjoy my blog, thank you for letting me know!

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gimmickblog-taxonomist · 2 years ago

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Important notice! The trees in this family are so large (even split by genus) that they are very likely to be unreadable on tumblr. That's why I have a website, in which you can find the images in full resolution by opening them in a new tab and zooming. Find them here. More info below the cut.

Okay, this tree took a while. There were 130+ blogs to catalog, and that was monumentally slow to do. I hope it doesn't take this long for the next tree. Also- ignore my paltry web design skills. I've attempted to input a more dyslexic friendly font option (I'm not dyslexic myself, if anyone with dyslexia wants to inform me if it is better, that would be great), but I'm honestly not that great at HTML. If any JQuery wizards want to help with a few things, I would owe my endless gratitude.

What's next?

After this big tree, I need some quick projects. I'll most likely update Alphidae, then move to the Potatoes or Snoms- haven't decided yet.

Some notes:

Although there have been some questionable things acted out in this family, I do think it has crafted some pretty interesting ideas. @/the-false-sun and @/the-dungeon-core are some of my favorites.

A quick description of the genera:

Systema - Blogs that emulate part of the game system.

Spectaculum - Roleplay blogs contained within or related to the system, usually as some sort of character.

Actus - Roleplay blogs that fit into the box of a conventional video game NPC, or acting as players within the game.

Faventia - The fandom focused blogs of the EPPRBCU.

Moderatus - Blogs emulating the moderators, tech support, and developers of the game.

Lastly, if any of the blogs present think they deserve a reclassification or have a suggestion to improve this, do not hesitate to notify me.

#family cotididae #a tree

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messylustt · 2 years ago

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౨ৎ ‧˚

𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥) — 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭

miguel o’hara x fem!reader. 4.8k words

fic masterlist previous part pt four next part

violence + mentions of blood and injuries (this is quite visual ha); angry + kinda ‘blood lust’ miguel; someone gets electrocuted, reader kinda does (small amount—I’ll be honest I don’t know how getting electrocuted exactly works, so for the purpose of the story ignore if the way it happens isn’t realistic, thank you!) — when you’re left alone in the tech room, many spiders out on missions, something unexpected happens. when miguel finds out his face falls and his claws twitch in anger. after the incident, you find miguel walking down the hall, calling to him he asks you questions, and you offer your help with something.

It was silent. For what felt like too long. Besides the tap of your fingers on the keyboard—which had begun to slow.

Usually you’d hear distant conversations or the sound of web shooting, but instead only silence greeted you. Unease began to make your body turn, your chair spinning with you.

You weren’t sure if you were just being paranoid. You were alone in the office. Which wasn’t anything strange, but it meant that your growing paranoia festered a little stronger.

You edged closer to the door, finally hearing what sounds to be rumbling. Low and too vague for you to decipher. Your hand reaches out to the door handle, but just as your fingers brush the smooth metal, you’re forced back.

Your body flies, coming to a bruising hit on your hip, making you hiss in pain. But you’re quick to get up, rushing to a clear wall, and away from the explosion. You breathe heavy as you slump against it, your ears slightly ringing, while your gaze stays blurry against the random scraps of metal and dust.

You look to the communal intercom, quickly rushing towards it. Someone or something that isn’t supposed to be here is. You have to warn the spider-people who are out on missions.

But where are the others?

Just as you reach the com, the sound of quick scuffling boots can be heard to your left. You snatch up the intercom, slipping under your desk, tucking your feet into the dark just as multiple pairs of unwelcome boots come into view.

Your shrink further into yourself. You couldn’t speak in warning to the spider variants or these guys would hear you. Your eyes narrow on the bottom of their legs. All black, but so far appearing humanised rather then some large monster. An anomaly?—you think to yourself—multiple?

You clutch the intercom mic tighter, your finger grazing the on button. And that’s when they begin to speak.

“Get the tech.” A gruff voice says. “Now! We can’t waste our time!”

You can hear more scuffling of boots as the sound of unplugging, or more so ripping follows.

“Boss, they’ll be back.” One of them said. You try to get a good look at them, but your movements will cause too much attention, so you grind your teeth and listen harder.

“If you pick up that damn monitor we might have a chance to get out quick enough.” What you assume to be the gruff voice of ‘boss’ says.

“Who even made you in charge?” One grumbles out.

“Who’s idea was it to lure those stupid spiders out on some fake mission, that, might I add, required a decent bunch of those freaks?”

“Not all of them, though.” One adds. You try again to peak out. You manage to scale the bodies of three, all in black, with…masks. Damn it. They looked worn out—handmade.

“Well, lucky for us the remainders are all too busy in the lobby. Now hurry up and pack the bags.” Boss agitatedly says.

And as if luck is still on your back-burner, your foot slips, only a fraction, but enough to knock a piece of stray metal across the floor.

“What was that?” One of the masked men asks.

The silence now following sounds threatening. You place your hand over your mouth, to quieten your breathing, as the scuffs of boots draws closer.

;;

“Ben!” Exclaimed Miguel, just as static breaks through his ear. He hisses, not expecting it, as he holds the earpiece, brows furrowed. Then the static grows clearer.

“Get the tech. Now! We can’t waste our time!”

“Boss, they’ll be back.”

Miguel narrows his eyes as he listens, confused at first. When he looks to the other spider-people they’re are all holding their own earpieces, trying to comprehend what they’re listening to.

“Who even made you in charge?”

“Who’s idea was it to lure those stupid spiders out on some fake mission, that, might I add, required a decent bunch of those freaks?”

“Lyla, what is this?” Miguel asks. She appears by him, tapping away at screens.

“It appears to be coming from a communal intercom.” She says.

“At HQ?” He asks, already flexing his claws. “Which one.”

“I’m just finding out. The connection is muffled.” More tapping.

“Well, lucky for us the remainders are all too busy in the lobby. Now hurry up and pack the bags.”

The voices still infiltrate Miguel’s ear. “Lyla.” He sounds impatient. “Which one?”

Then she stops tapping. “Y/n y/l/n’s.”

Miguel freezes, looking at Lyla as if she would be one to crack a joke. Then he hears the knock of something metal through his ear piece, followed by a ‘“What was that?”’. He can now hear your heavy breathes, slightly muffled, as heavy boots hit the floor.

Then all sound is gone.

He doesn’t wait for anyone, pressing his wristband to open the portal to HQ. But Jess stops him. “Miguel, think about this. What if it’s them?”

Miguel glances at her, shrugging her grip off his arm, as he taps at his wristband again, the portal opening up. His expression is downcast, one could easily say terrifying.

“Miguel! You have to think this through.” Jess persists. “We have spider-men and woman back at HQ—”

“Who are clearly too distracted to do anything.” Miguel grunts out, webbing towards the portal. But Ben intercepts this time.

“She’s right, Miguel. Don’t worry about the tech, we can get it back, or even get new ones—“

“The tech?” Miguel actually sounds in disbelief. “You think I’m fucking worried about the tech?!” His red eyes gleam, and Ben gulps.

“Then what are you worried about, Miguel?” Jess asks, exasperated. “Because I don’t see anything else that needs urgent attention. The tech is the main—“

“¿Tú no? The tech is the last of my worries, Jess.” Miguel interrupts. But this time he isn’t yelling. This time it’s toned down, and somehow that makes him appear much, much scarier.

“Miguel.” Jess tries to calm him down, not understanding what he could find more worrying. Data had been saved on that tech, important data. She places one hand on his wrist, but he immediately shrugs her off, glaring.

“Get out of my way.” He snarls. She doesn’t move, crossing her arms. “The reason why you aren’t hurt against that wall is because you earned my respect. That’s slipping, Jess.”

“Miguel you’re frantic.” She says.

“Call it what you want. I’m getting to HQ.” He webs past her, and Jess finally has the mind to let him go. Though she still stands there worried, and confused about what could have made Miguel so urgent to get to the scene.

;;

You tighten your hold on the intercom, now switching to use it as a possible weapon, as the boots near. You prepare yourself by silent deep breaths and a focused gaze.

The boots stop in front of you, pausing for only a moment. Then the desk is being flung to the side. You choke a gasp, managing to slam the intercom down into the guys shin, the harsh metal side bruising and buckling his leg.

He exclaims in pain as you scramble to your feet. You can finally see the detail on the three mens’ outfits. A dark green weaved into the fabric. Then you see the claws for hands, and all three of their masks turned to you. Shit.

“Who are you guys?” You manage to get out, as you reach behind you for a keyboard.

One looks at the other before looking back at you. “Were you here the whole time?”

You say nothing, edging closer to the exit. It’s silent from them for a moment then “…kill her.” The gruff voice of ‘boss’ says. And they’re quick.

You try to rush away but one yanks you back by your hair. You angrily swing around and knock the metal keyboard across one of their heads. Some of the pieces shatter against his mask.

But then one is grabbing your neck, pushing you against the wall. “Sorry—boss says no tattle tales.” The guy tightens his hold, and your hands scramble against his in an effort to intake air.

There’s a moment where your vision blurs. But there’s also a moment where his knee shifts letting your leg harshly kick out. You’re glad to find him humanised in his pants as he doubles over.

You rush away from the wall, heaving. One of the masked men is already trying to grab you and as his clawed hand wraps around your arm, he’s pulled back, a shining orange web yanking him straight into a monitor, his head smashing against glass.

The speed makes his claws cut across your flesh but your adrenaline is far too prominent for you to care. You notice the other guy stalking towards you, making you swiftly gaze around at your environment, Weapon. Weapon. Weapon. You stop on a machine, wires poking out, sparking with electricity. Holding a certain point you pull two out, ripping the electric wires, before stabbing them into his stomach, the electric current making his body shake and twitch.

You soon have to let go as they grow unbearably hot, leaving scolding burns on your fingertips and palms. That’s when you notice the owner of the orange web. Miguel has ruined the guy he originally threw into a monitor, his body now a bloody pulp.

You have to quickly look away to the second guy who had obviously gotten up from your kick and landed straight into Miguel’s palm. Miguel is retracting his claws from the masked man’s body, blood tainting the tips of his fingers, as he breaths harshly but somehow still controlled.

Miguel looks to the guy knocked out in front of you, still occasionally twitching from the strong current of electricity. You feel light headed, placing your hands on your knees as you try to slow your breathing.

But then you feel a hand. And not a friendly one as the masked man passes on some of the electricity moving through his body into your thigh. You scream, the half electrocuted guy—his hair frizzed and slightly cinched—stumbling to a stance, just as you fall to the floor.

Then you hear a crash and a curdling scream—not from you.

Miguel inserts his claws into the guys neck, practically ripping his throat out, as the guy chokes on his own blood. The blood sprays across Miguel’s face, leaving slight speckles as he rips the rest of the man with his teeth, letting him drop to the floor.

It was animalistic in way, as his tongue licked his fangs, his breathing now harsher—angrier.

But then he sees you drifting from consciousness on the floor.

Miguel doesn’t know what breathing is, or the meaning of the word slow, as he reaches your side in a millisecond, his hand coming to grab your face between his fingers—maybe a little harshly but his entire being was still on overdrive.

Miguel tightens his hold on your cheeks as he slightly shakes your head. “Y/l/n.” He hisses. “Wake up.“

He’s gentle now, realising that you’re a human and not some villain he needs to hurt, as he checks your pulse not wanting his claws to cut you. “Y/n!” He finally exclaims, as you get roused awake.

Your leg feels painfully numb, as your eyes flutter open. A thin layer of tears is making your eyes sparkle as you finally meet Miguel’s gaze. You try to slow your breathing, shutting your eyes to reassess.

Miguel tightens his hold on your cheeks. “No, no. Open them.”

You do, though they stay hooded. “I’m just…tired. No need to sound so harsh—shit.” The lasting electricity still spasms up your leg, as the hold of Miguel’s hand makes the tears fall.

You begin to shake your head, partially trying to get out of his hold. “Stop.” You say.

“Stop what?” Miguel instantly replies, his gaze shooting to your thigh.

“Just—“ you breathe. Then Miguel finds the deep scratch mark on your arm, his hand grabbing it as his eyes dart. “It’s fine. Just a cut.”

“Y/n, you just got attacked. You’re a weak human, don’t try to sound so tough.”

“You’re not helping.” You hiss, tilting your head back as you try to keep the tears in, not wanting them to fall. “And that was kind of mean.” You mutter the last part just for the sake of it. Using your pain induced state as an excuse to blurt out your annoyed feelings with Miguel.

Miguel grabs your chin, trying to pull your gaze back to his, but you resist, keeping it tilted away. “Stop.” You say again.

“No.” He answers, successfully pulling your chin back, and holding it there. “Why aren’t you looking me?”

Your eyes are darting around, before you choose to close them. “Y/n.” Miguel is stern, but underlying that he sounds almost desperate—almost.

You can feel him move closer to you and you place your hand out to stop him, your palm ending up against his chest. “Can you not—“

“What—not help you?” He asks harshly.

“Can you look away.” You say, finally opening your eyes. “Please.”

“Why?” Miguel isn’t budging, staying close to you. He’s already dialled in medical on his wristwatch.

“Jeezus Christ, Miguel! I don’t like fucking crying in front of people. It’s a weird thing I can’t get rid of. I hate it. It makes me feel embarrassed—“

“Embarrassed?” Miguel interrupts.

“Yes. Embarrassed.” You hiss harshly. You couldn’t find your filter, your tone far more aggressive then usual with the throbbing pain in your arm and the spasm of your thigh.

“Well, that stupid.” He says.

“Yeah, it is. But it’s not going away. So if you could just look away and let me…I dunno…recompose myself.”

“Recompose yourself?”

“Yes! Stop repeating what I’m saying!” You exclaim, only to follow with a groan of pain as you try to sit up.

Miguel knows your mind is frazzled and your body is reactive. He pushes you back down, grabbing your cheeks again.

“You got partially electrocuted and cut—deep, I’d think you’re a psychopath If you didn’t cry.” Miguel says, his volume dropped to one almost soothing—almost.

“Doesn’t make me hate it any less.” You mutter.

“Wow…I’ve never seen you this annoyed before.”

You narrow your eyes on him. His hand that was gingerly inspecting your thigh had slipped over your waist, partially caging you in.

You try again to sit up. But Miguel yet again, keeps you pressed to the floor. “O’hara.”

He leans closer to you, narrowing his eyes. “Stop moving.”

“I’m fine.”

“No your not.” He easily answers, which earns him a half hearted scoff. “You know I think I prefer you trying to suck up instead.”

You meet his gaze glaring. “I have not been sucking up, I just like—“

“This job. Yeah I’ve heard you.” He interrupts.

He can hear commotion behind him, but the voices of rushing spider-people makes his shoulders relax. The medical have arrived, and as you notice the new people you quickly wipe your cheeks, brushing against Miguel’s hand, as you get up.

Miguel finally let’s you, by slipping his arm around the back of your waist. You try to swat it away—any physical touch usually induces the waterworks you desperately wanted to keep at bay—but he tightens his hold, resulting in your side being flush against him.

The medical spiders inspect your bruised body. “It’s her thigh and upper arm…” Miguel begins telling the spiders. Then he grabs your hands holding your palms out. “And hands.” The burnt marks look raw, and you hiss as Miguel had to slightly stretch the skin to show.

He immediately lets go upon hearing the sound of pain. “Thanks Miguel, we’ll take it from here.” A medical spider says, already at your side checking your cut.

Miguel narrows his eyes on the spider variant, watching as you bite your lip as they inspect your wound. He sighs, finally getting up and letting your waist go. At the sudden shift your hand flies out to his leg, or more specifically his thigh.

Your quick, tight grip has Miguel stopping. You change your position, not having realised how much you were using Miguel as physical support, before you’re quickly taking your hand away and coughing.

You give him a brief nod. “Thanks for the help.”

Miguel scoffs. “Help? I did a bit more than help.”

You’re praying to get some anaesthetic soon so that your pain won’t make you loose your job. You press your lips together harshly. “Of course. You did spectacular.” You say.

The sarcasm isn’t lost on him. He eyes you once more before he’s walking out the exit.

You sat there, finally taking a proper breath. You don’t know why you were holding it for so long. …maybe you did have a clue. The image of Miguel ripping the guys neck out, blood staining his face is still fresh in your mind.

You’ll be honest, it scared you. He kind of scared you. But not in way you’d think he’d hurt you, just one that made him seem unpredictable. I mean what happened just then, with his touching and softer tone was something completely unforeseen.

If someone told you he would be do that today you’d actually laugh. Miguel was unpredictable and intimidating in general, sure, but what seemed to scare you more was the way he looked when his eyes shone with blood lust. His eye colour seemed fitting now.

You also happened to be scared of the way the sight made you feel. Something that settled far too low in your stomach.

;;

Miguel went straight to the lobby where a spider variant he kept high up in the ranks resided. “You. Get up. Now.”

The spider variant immediately stood, as he nervously followed Miguel to his office. The orange tech screens were the main thing lighting the place.

And as Spider-Man took a breath he lost it as soon as Miguel slowly turned to him. Blood still stained his skin and claws and suit, and the spider-man felt the urge to run.

“Where were you today?” Miguel asked, leaning back against a table and crossing his arms almost too casually.

“I was…here, Miguel.” He said steeling his spine. He knew where this was going.

“Were you?” Miguel asked, his eyes trained on the spider.

Spider man gulped. “I’m really sorry, Miguel. I didn’t hear any sort of explosion. I didn’t get any awareness. Which…shouldn’t happen.”

“You know what ‘shouldn’t happen’?” Miguel asks, now twirling an empty glass on the table. “Spider men and woman shouldn’t only rely on that “tingle thing”.”

The spider hangs his head lower in apology. “Someone could have died today.” Miguel continued. “And you would have what—been too busy playing poker?”

The spider variant winces at his words. Miguel knew of his addiction, always using his free time to gamble.

“Do you get that?” Miguel asks.

“I do. I’m sorry.”

“Sadly that’s not gonna cut it.” Miguel says, making spider man look up. “I left you in charge while I was gone. You failed miserably.”

“Miguel. I didn’t mean to only rely on my usual awareness, it’s a force of habit. That’s never happened before. I can always sense when danger is close.”

“But you didn’t.” Miguel says. “There’s someone in medical right now who got injured—badly. And she was all alone.” Miguel has stood up, stalking towards him.

“Now for personal reasons I may find her annoying.” He quickly mutters out. “But that certainly doesn’t mean you can let her die. Do you hear me?”

Spider man quickly nods. “Of course. This’ll never happen again.”

“No it won’t.” Miguel turns away, and the finality in his voice makes spider man’s eyes widen.

“Miguel—“

“Go home.” Miguel cuts in, stepping up to his screens. Anger still seeped from every pore.

;;

You woke up, feeling a dull ache in your body, but for the most part you felt alright. Better, a lot better. You swing your feet off the medical bed, realising that the lights were out.

Your feet hit the cold floor, before you quietly step towards the exit door.

Making it out to the hallway you were grateful you were already on the high level, no need for a long travel up the stairs.

You needed to rest. Alone. Not surrounded my medical items. You slowly headed to your room, but stop upon seeing a familiar body walking away.

“O’hara.” You say, making the figure freeze.

You quicken your steps, reaching him. He turns and you have to stop the intake of breathe at the reminded visual of the now dried blood.

“You didn’t want a shower?” You joked, forcing a chuckle.

Miguel just scans your body, narrowing his eyes, his expression is it’s typical, solemn and moody. “You should get back to bed.”

“I was actually heading to my room. But I just wanted to…thank you.” You say, finally making Miguel meet your gaze.

“You really did help me back there.” You spare him a small smile and a nod. Then your gaze gets caught back up in the blood stains, as you gulp.

“You saw, didn’t you?” Miguel suddenly asks.

You look up. “Mm?”

“The reason I’m covered in blood.”

“Oh.” You say. “It was…quite impressive.”

“No it wasn’t.” Miguel says making your brows furrow. He steps a fraction closer. “You didn’t think so.”

“What do you mean?”

Another step. “You thought I looked animalistic. Scary.”

You dart your gaze down to his slowly moving feet before quickly looking back up. You shake your head. And in return Miguel nods.

“You think I’m scary.” Everything he’s saying is statements. He knows, but you keep shaking your head.

“Don’t do that. Don’t lie.” He says, much, much closer now. “You’re terrible at it.”

You stop the shake of your head, blinking a few times. “O’hara—“

“Just be honest.”

“I am.” You say, straightening your spine. And as your eyes dart you notice a deep cut running across his thigh. The dried blood, his.

You step closer. “Why didn’t you get that checked out?”

He glances down at his wound. “It’s fine.”

“Oh come on, don’t do that. Don’t act like your above it all, including pain, and infection.” Your blatancy makes Miguel raise a brow.

You pause for a moment, mulling over potential decisions in your head. Then before it could get later and before you could back down you speak. “Follow me. Let me help.”

Miguel stares at you. “It’s fine—“ he goes to monotonously repeat.

You just grab his wrist, pulling him towards your room. Miguel grabs your wrist in turn, preparing to pull your hand off.

“Hey. You made me go to your room, now I’m just returning the favour.” You say.

Miguel stares at you, scoffing. You let go of his wrist, knowing you don’t have the strength to pull him. “If you’re scared I don’t know what I’m doing, then know that I studied to be a nurse before I found out about…all this.”

“Why?” Miguel asks. “Why help?” He elaborates.

“I just told you.” You say, beginning to head to your room. “I feel weird if I’ve seen your room when you haven’t yet seen mine.”

“That’s not a good reason at all.”

“But your walking my way aren’t you?”

Miguel hadn’t realised that he’d moved to your door without the permission of his mind. He curses under his breath as your scent floods his senses, your room making it ten times worse. This is the last thing he needed.

But you’re already shutting the door and ushering him further in. “You can um…” you look around. “You can just sit on the bed.”

No—Miguel thought. God, no. But you were already getting out an older looking kit from under textbooks—your stuff having been brought to you from your universe.

He slowly sits, trying not to get one bit comfortable. You reach his side placing the kit on the bed, as you drop to your knees.

Miguel’s breathing stops at the visual. You’re directly by his thigh…kneeling. No, no.

Miguel clicks his jaw, looking away. He looks back down, to see your hand is midway from touching his cut thigh. “Why are you doing this?” He can’t fathom why you would actually want to help him.

You sigh. “I just feel kinda bad.”

“Bad?”

“Mhm.” You nod.

“For any particular reason?” Miguel pushes.

“No.” You sarcastically scoff. “You’re just generally a person everyone feels bad for.”

Miguel narrows his eyes as you chuckle. He shifts on your bed. “Stop doing that.”

Your hand stops by his cut, thinking it’s the touching of his wound, when in actual fact it was the way your ‘chuckle’ had sent a strange vibration through him to somewhere he desperately didn’t want you to notice. He was right. This was a terrible idea.

Then you’re touching him. Delicate and gentle, as you pull away his ripped suit. You begin to dab what looks to be an alcohol cloth onto his wound, and in response Miguel snarls, his grip tightening around your sheets.

“Sorry.” You mutter.

“Dios.” He mutters, closing his eyes a moment. “Stop being nice.”

You look up at him. “I have to say, I’ve never heard someone say that. Usually it’s ‘stop being mean’.”

His face is tight as you continue to clean his cut. “Someone said that to you?”

You pause. “No actually. But I just mean in general. And I’m not being ‘nice’ to you. I’m returning a favour.”

“Ah.” He hums, before all his muscles tense. “Can you hurry up.”

“You’ve never let anyone touch you up before, have you?” Catching onto the fact that he’s clearly cleaned his past wounds himself.

Miguel glares at you. “So, you can stop.” He reaches to take the cloth from you, but you lean away resting your hand on his knee for support.

“You can just sit on the bed.” Miguel grits out. He couldn’t watch you being on your knees for him any longer. Not unless he’d do something he’d end up regretting.

“That’s okay, it’s an easier angle here.”

God. You had to stop. ‘Easier angel’? Yeah, Miguel definitely wasn’t thinking about you cleaning his cut. He runs his hand through his hair.

You quickly reach out grabbing his wrist. He looks at you, expectantly. “You have uh…blood on your fingertips…claws.”

Miguel darts his gaze across your face. “And you’re worried about it getting my…hair dirty?”

You shrug. “Well, now you’re making me sound stupid.”

“I don’t need to do that.” He quips, and you shoot him a glare. “But um…” he drifts off, as you look up at him, now waiting expectantly.

“Did you find me…scary, or whatever?” He asks, and surprisingly there’s a hint of…vulnerability hidden in his tone? No—you think to yourself—that can’t be right. “Before. With the anomalies.”

You dab a fraction harder, making Miguel hiss a groan. You ignore the way it vibrates through your body. You shake your head.

“Why do you keep lying?” He asks.

You sigh. “I just—“

“Just?” Miguel seemed to really want to get an answer out of you. He shifts closer. And when you don’t answer, continuing to focus on his wound, he grabs your jaw, pulling you up to meet his gaze. You gulp, his large hand nearly reaching to wrap around your neck.

“Do I scare you?”

Your chest picks up a quicker beat. He leans closer, pulling you towards him, your chest hitting his leg. “Do I—“

“Yes. Alright.” You quickly say. “A little bit…yes.”

His grip tightens around your chin a fraction. “Because of what you saw?”

“And the way you talk to people.” You mutter out. Why were saying this? This isn’t something you say to your boss.

You hadn’t noticed at first but one of his claws had begun to brush back and forth against the skin of your jaw, his eyes not leaving yours. You were utterly frozen. And there’s a moment that you just catch where his gaze darts down to your lips, his breath feeling extremely close.

But then he’s leaning away, his jaw clenching as he looks to the door. “Are you done?”

You quickly look down to his cut, rushing to get out a bandage. “Uh, almost.” Your entire body was buzzing.

While you stayed focused on finishing him up, Miguel’s gaze went back to staring at you. He almost gave in—almost. He wouldn’t, though.

You were scared of him. He knew you were somewhat so, but now hearing you say it confirmed that you’d never see him how he had gradually started seeing you. He had to stop. Now, before he dove in far too deep.

He couldn’t let himself go any deeper. Because at this rate he’d certainly drown, and if he was going to die, it wouldn’t be from some silly little crush.

okay, I’m sorry, I lied. there is nothing sexual in here. but I didn’t think adding anything like that yet would work. since a lot of you guys asked for a slow burn

again, I hope this is up to a good standard for you guys to continue reading. I wanted to add something a little different then the usual Spanish lesson then Miguel’s end of the deal. I needed some action of some sort.

and ofc, part five will come soon x love you all MWAH

taglist: @dangerousdreamkitty @ale-maral @inosukesweirdwife @flooftoof @cynicallyaestetic @silassinclair @mariiyoushi @ilovedilfjake @toastlover21 @wlellsl @k1rbbo @bitchotine @guacam011y @blnk338 @wolfiepirate @kurxxmi @corpsebridenightamare @ohantonia @yunonaneko @irenered-20 @z3r0art @sunflowercandie @perilous-pasta @gloriouskryptonitecrown @whyamistillhere78 @ritzzzsblog @mm1sta @tealcoloured-murder @aweebsimp101 @livelaughlaurv @s0dium @roguepancake @sunshiines-stuff @internal-soundtrack @oscarisdaddy69 @clairacassidy @captainquake42 @nanaloverz @ilyless @sindulgent666 @shine101 @thebadasssass @hibeejibees @nirishin @ily2lia @lillunna @cinnamoncattie @futuristicpandakid @maroonobserver @thatsopanu @edgyficuselastica @kittekat420 @stararctic @maxi-ride @renn-pumkin-head @scaraza @justanotherkpopstanlol @fauxizs @cloudsandrenoswife @ilmovor @larissa-lolll @elliemm @httpkiyoomi @j2warren @arquiiva @ilovemiguelohara @a-monster-can-filled-with-cum @fandom-gal44 @elwyn7 @albiebright

taglist #2 taglist #3

#the miguel effect #miguel o’hara across the spider verse #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara one shot #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman atsv #atsv #across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #spider man #spider-man 2099 #spiderman 2099 #marvel

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mxl633 · 5 months ago

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ur writing is sooo good, u deserve a follow^^ I loved ur Yunjin fics so much, thank u for answering my request, ik it's too soon to send another request but how about this time it's

Spiderwoman!Yunjin × Villain!Reader, enemies to lovers trope 👀 it could be any villain you want:3

HOLYY SIGMA. I’m so sorry I was busy w my exams and I’m glad you asked me another request (PLEASE DO MORE!!) I was running out of ideas. YOU ASKED N I SHALL DELIVER again thank you so much for supporting me! I’ll do a part 2 on this if you want to

Web of hearts

Spiderwoman!Yunjin x Villain!Reader

Warnings: Violence(not tm) , Morally Grey Characters , Enemies to lovers , Themes of Betrayal and trust ,KISSING!!, mention of struggles

“Web of Hearts”

The city glittered like a jewel under the night sky, its lights painting the horizon in hues of neon pink, electric blue, and sharp gold. Above it all, Yunjin swung from rooftop to rooftop, her Spiderwoman suit sleek against her figure as the cool night air rushed past her. Her thoughts were sharp and focused: you were out there, and she wasn’t going to let you slip away this time.

You had been the bane of her existence for weeks. A mysterious Villain whose crimes were as clever as they were chaotic—art thefts, tech heists, even the occasional explosion just to “make things interesting.” No one had ever pushed her this far, and she hated—no, she couldn’t stand—that you always got under her skin.

Tonight, though, she was ready. She’d tracked your movements, intercepted police chatter, and narrowed down your target: a shipment of cutting-edge technology being smuggled through the city. She perched on the edge of a skyscraper, her masked eyes scanning the streets below like a hawk.

Then she saw it. A sleek figure darting through the shadows of an alley, a bag slung over your shoulder. You moved like a phantom, quick and silent. But you weren’t quick enough.

Yunjin fired a web, and it zipped through the air with precision, yanking the bag from your grip. She dropped down in front of you, landing with a thud that echoed through the narrow alleyway.

“Predictable,” she taunted, twirling the bag in her hand before webbing it to a nearby lamppost.

You stepped out of the shadows, your leather-clad figure illuminated by the dim light. Your mask covered the lower half of your face, but your amused eyes betrayed your emotions. “Predictable? That’s rich coming from someone who keeps playing into my hands.”

Yunjin’s head tilted slightly, her lenses narrowing. “Big talk for someone who’s about to be webbed up like a fly.”

You laughed, low and teasing, before lunging at her. The alley erupted into a whirlwind of motion. Punches, kicks, and flips—it was a dance neither of you could win nor wanted to lose.

But this time, you managed to pin her against the wall. Your hands braced on either side of her head, your bodies too close for comfort.

“Why do you keep chasing me?” you asked, your voice softer now, but no less challenging. “There are bigger, badder villains out there. You don’t even know my endgame.”

“Maybe I like the challenge,” Yunjin shot back, her voice steady despite the fluttering in her chest.

Your eyes gleamed as a smirk tugged at your lips. “Or maybe you like me.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and charged. Yunjin faltered, just for a moment, but it was enough. You grabbed her wrist, twisting out of her grip, and spun her around so she was now the one pinned. She gritted her teeth, frustration bubbling up—not just at her failure to gain the upper hand, but at how close you were. She could feel the warmth radiating off you, could see the sharp curve of your jaw under the mask.

“You’re insufferable,” she muttered.

“And you’re obsessed with me,” you countered, your voice dropping lower, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine.

You reached up slowly, your gloved fingers brushing against the edge of her mask. She stiffened but didn’t stop you. “You don’t have to hide, Yunjin,” you murmured. “I’ve known for a while now. You’re not as sneaky as you think.”

Her heart pounded in her chest. She should have been furious, but instead, all she could focus on was your voice, your proximity, the way her name sounded coming from your lips.

“You’re bluffing,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Am I?” you whispered back.

The tension between you snapped like a web in the wind as you leaned in and pressed your lips to hers. For a moment, the world disappeared. The city, the mission, the chaos—none of it mattered. Her body reacted instinctively, her hands finding their way to your shoulders as she kissed you back with a fire she didn’t know she had.

When you pulled away, she was breathless, her masked eyes wide with shock.

“This doesn’t mean I’m letting you go,” she said, her voice shaky but firm.

You grinned, stepping back into the shadows. “Sure, Spiderwoman. Catch me if you can.”

And then you were gone.

The kiss haunted her.

Days passed, and every time Yunjin closed her eyes, she felt the ghost of your lips on hers. She hated how easily you’d gotten under her skin, how much she thought about you now.

Still, she couldn’t let it distract her. You were a criminal—a dangerous one—and she had a job to do. But the lines between duty and desire were blurring in ways she couldn’t control.

The next time she found you, it wasn’t because of police chatter or clever detective work. She stumbled upon you while patrolling the city. You were perched on the roof of an abandoned building, staring out at the skyline like you owned it.

She didn’t hesitate, firing a web that wrapped around your arm and yanked you toward her. You stumbled, caught off guard, but quickly recovered, flipping to land gracefully a few feet away from her.

“Didn’t think you’d come back so soon,” you said, brushing off your sleeve.

“You make it impossible not to,” she shot back, her voice sharp but lacking the venom she intended.

You tilted your head, studying her. “You’re different tonight.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

You chuckled, stepping closer. “I wasn’t. But now I’m curious.”

She tensed as you closed the distance between you, your presence as intoxicating as it was infuriating.

“Why do you care so much?” you asked, your tone softer now. “I’m not some maniac trying to destroy the world. I have my reasons.”

“Reasons don’t excuse what you’ve done,” she said, though her voice wavered.

“Maybe not,” you admitted. “But you’ve never asked why. You just assume I’m the bad guy because it’s easier that way.”

She froze. It wasn’t like she hadn’t wondered—your crimes were always precise, your targets specific. But she’d buried those thoughts beneath her duty to stop you.

“Why, then?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitated, and for the first time, she saw a crack in your confident façade. “I’m not ready to tell you. Not yet.”

Her eyes narrowed behind the mask. “Convenient.”

“It’s the truth,” you said, stepping even closer. “But you could find out. If you really wanted to.”

“Stop playing games,” she snapped, though her heart wasn’t in it.

You smiled, leaning in until your faces were just inches apart. “I’m not playing. Not with you.”

And then you kissed her again. This time, it wasn’t impulsive—it was deliberate, slow, and full of unspoken words. Her resolve crumbled as she melted into you, her hands gripping the front of your jacket to steady herself.

When you pulled away, her head was spinning.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered, though there was no heat in her words.

“And you’re irresistible,” you countered with a smirk before disappearing into the night once more.

The pattern continued. Every encounter blurred the line between enemy and lover until Yunjin couldn’t tell which was which. You’d tease her, push her buttons, and then leave her reeling with a kiss that left her questioning everything.

Eventually, she realized the truth: she didn’t want to stop you anymore. She wanted to understand you. And maybe, just maybe, she wanted you to understand her, too.

But could she ever truly trust you? Could you trust her?

The next time you met, under the pale light of a crescent moon, the air between you was heavy with unspoken words.

“Why do you keep coming back?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Because I can’t stay away,” you admitted, your voice raw.

She stepped closer, her hand reaching up to gently pull your mask away. For the first time, she saw your face—your full face—and it took her breath away.

“I don’t know how to stop this,” she whispered.

“Maybe we don’t have to,” you said, your eyes searching hers.

And for the first time, Yunjin didn’t fight the pull between you. She let herself fall, trusting that, somehow, you’d catch her.

#femalereader #wlw sfw #female reader #kpop imagines #kpop x reader #wlw #huh yunjin #huh yunjin x you #jennifer huh #le sserafim #le sserafim x y/n #le sserafim scenarios #le sserafim fluff #le sserafim x reader #le sserafim yunjin

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