#Y’KNOW—LIKE THE SPIDER-PEOPLE ARE SUPPOSED TO DO????

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - mentions of kidnapping, controlling behavior, lyla is both Miguel's number stan and number one hater, and blood.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Hey, show a little faith. Have I ever steered you wrong before?” LYLA whispered, hovering just above your shoulder. You paid her a skeptical look, and she sighed, rolling her eyes. “Okay, whatever, but you know who programmed me! You cannot believe Miguel would be able to give me this shining sense of humor.”

That point, you couldn’t argue – even if you still had your reservations. With a deep, faltering breath, you slipped through the barely cracked door and into Miguel’s shell of a bedroom. It was dark, save for the faint red glow emanating from some half-finished electronic weapon he’d been revising and adjusting for as long as you’d known him, and of course, Miguel was still asleep. It looked like he’d made a half-hearted attempt to pull one of his thin sheets over himself before collapsing face-down on the center of his bed – which was, in all fairness, probably exactly what happened. You’d learned his routine, by now, knew that he’d likely only sleep for another three hours or so before dragging himself out of bed and back to his surveillance room. This might’ve been the first time you’d actually seen him in bed, rather than hunched over one of his many consoles or laid across a bench in one of the lesser-used hallways, having given into his exhaustion before he could make it anywhere more private. You didn’t like it. It reminded you too much of waking up in the middle of the night to Miguel looming over you, silently leering as you pretended not to notice him, even if there was a world of difference between what he’d done to you and what you dreamed of doing to him.

You stepped over the threshold, then paused. “Why am I here again?”

“Blackmail.” Miguel had mentioned off-handedly that LYLA couldn’t feel human emotions, just imitate them, but you could’ve sworn you heard a note of pure zeal in her voice. “You get the picture, I spread it around, and we both benefit.” Your phone buzzed, and you fished it out of your pocket. It was practically a brick (being locked inside Miguel’s spider-fortress meant you were blocked from contacting anyone outside of that fortress, apparently), but you still liked to keep it nearby. In the futile hope that you’d be able to call someone, anyone if you did ever make it out of Miguel’s reach, one day. “He still hasn’t gotten over the 2099-Burger. You’ve seen it, right? That was some of my best work, you should’ve seen—”

You shushed her, and LYLA flickered out of sight before reappearing on the foot of the bed, a polaroid camera now hanging from her neck. Slowly, carefully, you moved forward, only to pause when you actually reached Miguel. He wasn’t wearing anything, because he never wore anything aside from his nanotech and maybe a threadbare pair of sweatpants, if you caught him after a shower. It’d been too long since his last haircut. It was already splitting at the ends, fighting against his half-hearted efforts to comb it back and falling over his face, distorting part of his (relatively) peaceful expression. Even unconscious, he was frowning, but the dark circles under his eyes were less pronounced, his lips contorted into something that was more of a pout than his usual scowl. No wonder LYLA wanted a picture. There had to be more than a few Spider-People who’d want proof that their irritable leader could be something other than angry.

Half stalling for time, half trying to talk that better taste off of your tongue, you turned to LYLA. “Remind me why you can’t just take you own pictures, again?”

“Some of us are just a bunch of flashing light. Hot flashing lights, but y’know, lights.” She held up her miniature camera, and you looked away before the flash could blind you. “C’mon, you can’t say you don’t want to get back at him.”

Right. Getting back at him. This was supposed to be your way of getting back him. He kidnapped you, tore you away from your loved ones, locked you in a case of glass and metal, and you were going to help his AI assistant take a picture of him sleeping. The perfect revenge.

Digging your teeth into the inside of your cheek, you raised your phone, but before you could take LYLA’s picture and retreat back to your own room to sulk, an alarm you hadn’t set went off at full volume. You cursed under your breath, stabbing blindly at the screen in a panicked effort to shut it up before Miguel woke up, but an arm lashed out from Miguel’s heap before you could, catching you by the waist and dragging you into his chest just as the alarm mysteriously when silent. You clenched your eyes shut, bracing yourself for his claws embedded in your skin, for a growled threat, but nothing ever came.

You forced yourself to open your eyes and found that, despite everything, Miguel was still unconscious. You heard a camera shutter behind you – LYLA, her grin too smug not to be genuine. No doubt, you’d be able to see her handiwork on every screen she had access to by tomorrow morning - meaning, of course, every screen in Nueva York. “I thought you said you couldn’t—”

“He’s a deep sleeper. Very reactive, though – did I forget to mention that?” There was a pause, a wink. “Oopsies.”

You grit your grit your teeth. “Are you at least going to make him let me go?”

“Ah – flashing lights, remember?” Again, she flickered, reappearing an inch or so away from your face. “I’ll see you in the morning, lovebirds!”

You opened your mouth, but she was gone before you had the chance to protest. Still, you squirmed against Miguel’s vice-like hold, attempting to shove at his arm only for another to wrap around his midriff, only for him to pin you that much more tightly to his chest. There was a low, heavy grunt, then his nose nudging against the side of your throat, his lips ghosting over your skin. Slowly, instinctually, his fangs pushed into the curve of your neck, drawing out a pained whimper, a thin trail of blood. His teeth lodged in your throat, his body wrapped around yours, he settled against you, his breathing falling back into a steady rhythm. Making sure you’d stay where you were until he woke up – whether that was in one hour or eight.

It was all you could do to take a deep breath, close your eyes, and hope LYLA would lead you to a swifter death, next time.

[pedrito-friskito]

disobedient - miguel o’hara x fem!reader (spidersona)

do you get off on disobeying me?

a/n: I regret fuck all folks. part 1 of 2 (no clue when part 2 will happen but it will). special shouts to @psychedelic-ink, @inklore, and @splendiferous-bitch for feeding my miguel obsession and being the best ❤️‍🔥

word count: 6.5k

warnings: oh mama. sex pollen, unprotected p-in-v, rough sex, desperate miguel, multiple orgasms, in a shocking twist a whole lotta exposition cuz I gotta make the fucking make sense, y’know?

✨@friskito-library for new works✨

You’re not supposed to do this.

You’re not supposed to be here, period, but the notion hasn’t stopped you thus far. It’s just gonna make him more pissed off than he normally is, but pissing Miguel O’Hara off has quickly climbed to the top of your list of talents, and you’re content to continue doing as you please.

Especially if it means he’ll keep glowering at you with those eyes of his.

+

It threw you off initially — him, in general. Unfairly large, all rippling muscle and too-tiny waist, the hip-to-shoulder ratio of a Dorito chip and retractable claws you’ve seen more than once now. Not to mention an ass that looks like it was sculpted by a god. But it was the eyes that caught your attention, when you caught him glowering at you from a shadowy corner, like a predator hunting its prey.

“You gonna keep gawking,” you’d asked, “or come say hello like a normal person?”

Neither of you fit that category — normal people, boring — and he’d ignored your quip, actually growling at you as he stalked out of the shadows and brushed past you, bumping your shoulder in the process, and your brow had lifted at the way his suit seemed to ripple with the impact, forming and reforming against his skin. You saw it all, thanks to your spider-tacular vision, and your next thought after I want to sink my teeth into that ass, was I need to get my hands on that fabric.

Six months later, and no dice. You’ve been bouncing between Earth 928 and whatever dimension suits your fancy since Miguel first brought you here. How you convinced him to hand over one of his fancy bracelets, you’ll never truly know, but you have a distinct feeling the nature of your first meeting was what prompted him to give you access to the multi-verse — along with a slew of rules you more often than not turned your nose up at.

It also probably has something to do with the fact that you didn’t leave Nueva York for the first month. You holed up in the room he provided, ate the food he left by the door, and slept your days away, ignoring the too-bright world outside the windows, content to waste away to nothing. You couldn’t go home, what did it matter anyway?

Enter Miguel O’Hara and his incredibly bite-able ass.

When he first found you on the rooftop, cornered you near the fire escape, you’d gone snarky, despite the rumble in your bones, the betrayal that had cut you to the core, the looming fact that shit had just hit the fan and nothing was ever going to be the same again. 

And then Mister Grumpy steps through a fucking portal and tells you he can save you. He can’t fix what happened, but he can take you somewhere they won’t find you again, a haven of sorts. For a moment, you reeled — how could you know for sure that you could trust him? You almost asked him as much, but then the blanket of realization swept over you: there was nothing left for you on Earth 374. The spider on his chest was clue enough that you were on the right track. Sure, his was bright red on dark blue, whereas your own was navy against slate grey, but the similarities were close enough, namely the giant fucking spider.

The door to the rooftop had jiggled and Miguel swept a hand out, shooting webbing at the handle, keeping it shut. “Clock’s ticking, princesa,” he told you, the nickname said almost tauntingly. “Offer’s about to expire.”

You knew there had to be other spider-people out there in the universe, you just hadn’t imagined them to be so…large.

Or demanding, you’d learn later. Or asshole-ish. Sigh.

“Get me the fuck outta here,” you answered, and that was that. You were standing in his lab in Nueva York a moment later, and the jolt of multi-dimensional travel had you puking your guts all over the glossy floor. Faintly, you’d heard Miguel’s grunt of disdain.

“Lyla, get someone to clean this up,” he said, and his hand curled around your arm a moment later, hauling you to your feet like a rag doll. “You’ll get used to it,” he told you. “The jumping. I did the same thing after my first time.”

You were too out of it to know if he was actually being nice, or if the subtle lift to the corner of his mouth was just amusement at your expense.

“Yeah, well, warn a girl next time, would you?”

But you did get used to it. Once you managed to get your ass out of bed and back into your suit, you were soon away from the Spider Society more than you were there. For the first couple weeks, Miguel hadn’t said a word, apparently content to let you go where you pleased, barely questioning you when you deigned to return. Then, it was like a switch was flipped, and he was up your ass — and not in a fun, sexy way. He wanted reports on each of your jumps, timelines and activity breakdowns. He wanted lists of targets, reasons behind them, background checks. All things you knew he could easily get himself, but you also didn’t have the guts to tell him that since he’d saved you from Earth 374, you hadn’t actually…helped…anyone.

It wasn’t for lack of trying. Your first solo jump you’d managed to find a few bank robberies and a mugging happening within a few blocks of each other. Clearly, you’d picked a gem of a universe, and while you’d managed to web up the bandits in the vault, something in you had frozen when you tried to track down the mugger. The scene unfolded on the street below and you just…shut down.

The rest of your trips were spent just exploring. You swung your way through cities, camped out on rooftops, just watching the normal people go about their lives down below. You noted the differences between that universe and your own, tried to remember where all the puzzle pieces fit, even though you were looking at a different picture.

And it’s that curiosity, that quiet desperation to know more, that has you padding out of your room in the Spider Society tower, overriding the elevator that’ll take you up to Miguel’s lab. His currently empty lab. The man himself has been away on a scouting mission for nearly forty-eight hours, and you’re not expecting him back for another twenty-four, which gives you more than enough time to satisfy that annoying voice in the back of your head that wants to know how they’re doing.

It’s late. The world outside the tower is dark, the sky an inky black, streaked with light shades, dotted with stars. You’d be a fool not to find Earth 928 and Nueva York beautiful in their own strange, overly modern ways, but even six months in, it’s hard to think of it as home.

But you know why. It’s because it’s not. 

You’d lasted a few days before you started glitching, and being cooped up in your room, you assumed you’d be able to hide it from Miguel. Part of you feared that if he knew something was wrong with you, he’d send you back to 374, and then what would happen to you?

You went to sleep worrying it over in your mind, and woke up to a complicated-looking watch sitting on the nightstand beside your bed. A hastily scrawled note stuck to it.

Put it on. It’ll help.

As soon as you did, the device beeped to life, a holographic screen jumping up, telling you the date and time and a myriad of other pieces of information. And then—

“Hiya, toots! I’m Lyla.”

You were confused as hell by the AI at first, but you quickly realized how useful she was, even more knowledgeable than Miguel, not that she’d ever admit it. And, in all honesty, you were a fan of the gab sessions. When Miguel wasn’t working her overtime, she’d beep her way through your watch for a good chat, perch herself on your pillow in the days you were still a shut-in, and when you started to make your way through the multi-verse, she was quick to point out the must-sees wherever you were.

She ran out quickly when she realized you were visiting the same place, just a different universe.

+

The doors to Miguel’s lab whoosh open at your approach, bare feet padding along the glass floor, and as you pause, getting yourself a cup of coffee from the forever-full carafe he keeps far away from the supercomputer, your watch pings to life, and the AI herself glitters into existence.

“What d’you think you’re doing?”

You ignore her at first, fixing your coffee the way you like it, flicking the stir stick into the trash before bringing the cup to your lips. It’s not until you start toward the computer and the large platform that houses it, that you answer her.

“Nothin’.”

She groans. “That’s a load of shit and we both know it.”

“He’s not here,” you say, shrugging a shoulder as you step onto the platform. The screens hum to life as you drag one hand across the infrared keyboard and when you glance over your shoulder, Lyla’s staring at you over the top of her heart-shaped glasses. “What he won’t know won’t hurt him.”

“And you really think doing exactly what he told you not to do is the best idea?”

You sigh, sipping your coffee as you sink into the chair, rolling yourself close to the computers. Miguel rarely uses the chair, apparently content to just stand and stare all broodingly at the screens. You only watched him — caught him — do this once, but when you caught on to what was happening, you filed the information away. He’d given you hell for snooping around, though you teased that he was just pissed you’d managed to sneak up on him, and according to Lyla, nobody does that.

Fingers hovering over the keyboard, you pause. He did tell you, rather specifically, not to do what you’re about to do. He didn’t tell you why, wouldn’t give an inch when you pressed him, but he was firm.

No good will come of it.

+

Earth 473. Not an identical twin to your home universe, but a very close sibling. The differences were so small, so scarce, that you truly thought you’d stumbled back to 374 accidentally, and you’d nearly jumped back to Nueva York, heart in your throat. But then something caught your eye, and you froze.

Across the way, teetering at the edge of the rooftop, was Spider-Man.

His suit was the opposite of yours, the spider grey and the suit navy. You could feel him staring right back at you, even at the distance, and as you stared back, he lifted his hand. For a moment you thought he might wave, your own fingers twitching to return the gesture, but then it continued up, gripping the back of his mask and yanking it from his bed.

You saw his mouth form the words, heard them like a whisper in the air.

“You’re alive.”

Your frozen heart dropped into your toes.

It was Peter. Your Peter, the one you’d left behind on Earth 374, your best friend, the one who…who…

You didn’t have it in you to finish the thought. It was all the evidence you needed to know that this universe was not yours. You were the only Spider-Person on 374, and your Peter wasn’t…he couldn’t…

You’d stumbled backward, blindly grabbing for your watch, suddenly desperate to be back in the SS tower. But then you paused, your fingers twitching on the dials and digits.

And you almost went exactly where you weren’t supposed to. Like a reflex. Shaking yourself, you punched in 928, everything in you twisting and turning as you stepped through the portal.

Miguel was waiting. He’d been watching you, paying close attention to that particular jump, and had used the link through your watch to see what you saw. The opposite-but-mirror image on the rooftop.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, his voice low, that deep timbre that still managed to catch you off guard. “The multi-verse doesn’t work that way.”

“You have no idea what I’m thinking,” you spat back, shrugging off his hand when he tried to grab your arm. “You have no idea what I’m feeling.”

His face had gone feral. Those carmine eyes flaring, staring down his nose at you while you just stared right back, defiant. You went to step past him, and he caught you again, this time his longer fingers wrapping around your forearm, the tell-tale prick of his talons biting through your suit.

“I know a fuck load more than you seem to think,” he snarled, dragging you close to he was in your face. “In case you forgot, I’ve been at this a hell of a lot longer than you have, and what you saw out there, what it means to you, I know exactly where your mind went. And I am telling you: the multi-verse does not work like that.”

“What am I thinking?” you spat back, ignoring the pinpricks of pain that shot through your arm as you got even closer, leaning up on your toes. “If you’re so fucking knowledgeable, tell me.”

He released you, then. The pain in your arm dissipated as quickly as it had come, and his eyes went…soft. Thoughtful.

Sympathetic.

“You’re thinking,” he started, inhaling deeply, rubbing two fingers between his brows as he spoke, “that you could go back there, to 473, and make a life for yourself. The same family, the same friends, the same life. They lost their version of you, so why not fill her shoes? Find some semi-logical explanation, hide your powers, live your life. Am I close?”

You almost stumbled backward, the truth of his words sending you reeling. You bumped into his desk instead, knocking a cup of coffee over, and neither of you said a word as the dark liquid spread across the desktop, dripping off the edge and onto the floor.

Miguel took a half-step toward you, then turned slightly, looking over the curve of his shoulder at you. Something in you longed to press your forehead against his frame, search for some kind of support, but you stayed stuck still.

“I know,” he continued, turning his head, staring straight ahead, “because I did exactly the same thing. And I lost everything.”

+

His words echo through your mind now, the deep tone you’ve gotten very familiar with, and you shake your head, clearing away the cobwebs he’s left in your head. “This is different,” you say aloud, partially to Lyla, partially to yourself. “I’m not going there, I’m just…checking in.”

The AI rolls her eyes at you and snaps her gum. “I said it once and I’ll say it again: load of shit.”

Your fingers fly over the keyboard, typing in the codes to find what you’re looking for. You haven’t been back to 473 since that jump; Miguel had forbade it after your spat, and even went so far as to block your watch from taking you there. You thought he was being unreasonable, and he reiterated that he was actually trying to keep you safe.

No good will come of it.

You hit the final key, and the images start to fade in. You can just barely make out the shape of her — of you — when the screens go black. Your breath catches in your throat as a large hand comes down on your shoulder, gripping tightly, though you don’t feel the pricks of his talons.

“Do you get off on disobeying me?”

The words are almost a purr, the opposite of the tone you’re expecting, and from the corner of your eye, you see Lyla blip from existence. It makes goosebumps rise on your skin, the hair on the back of your neck standing on end as he leans in, hot breath on your ear.

“If I make you cum, will that make you more obedient? Hm?”

“What the fu—” you start, trying to whirl around, but his grip on you is solid, warm palm following the curve of your shoulder until his fingers are wrapping themselves around your throat. It’s a welcome weight, sparks of electricity shooting down your limbs, your thighs rubbing together to relieve the instant pressure. “Mmm.”

His thumb presses down on your racing pulse, and you’re suddenly aware of how warm he is. He’s…too warm. But you have to admit, the way he’s holding you…it’s nice. Really nice.

“Miguel,” you start, trying to turn again, but he fits his face into the bare side of your neck, lips grazing the thin skin. “You’re not supposed to be back yet.”

“Mission went south,” he mumbles against you, his tongue darting past his lips and dragging along your skin. It makes your eyes roll back, but…

Where is this coming from?

He should be furious with you. He caught you red-handed, no questions about it. You weren’t expecting him to find you in the first place, but now that he has, you’re expecting a screaming match, toddler-level foot-stomping and possibly being thrown over his ridiculously large shoulder and being tossed into your room like a rag doll. Locked up like Rapunzel until you start listening to his brand of reasoning. You’re expecting a blowout.

You’re not expecting this.

He huffs in your ear as his lips graze the sensitive skin beneath it, his words spoken into the shell, tongue catching on your earring. “You smell delicious, cariño.”

The pet name makes you shiver. “Mig,” you say again, your hand covering his as his other arm wraps around your middle, pulling you back against his chest. “What are you doing?”

His heart is racing, so hard that you can feel the heavy thump of it against your spine. It’s too fast, even for him, you know that much. His fingers curl against your stomach, talons poking out and shredding your shirt to strips. You gasp as the fabric falls away.

“Miguel.” You make your voice as stern as possible. It’s not that you don’t want him to touch you like this, it just seems so sudden, so out of character, and you—

He wrenches himself away from you, the heady warmth of him suddenly gone, and you whirl, hand flying up to grip your neck as the sound of him crashing into the wall reaches your ears. His fingers are leaving indents in the metal, talons scratching deep, and you gulp as you realize you’re lucky he didn’t just accidentally slit your throat.

Whatever’s happening, he’s not himself.

“Mig,” you call, wiping your bloody hand on your sweats, crossing the distance he’s put between you. “Would you just talk t—”

“NO!” he roars, throwing a hand out in front of himself. You can see his large frame shake as he sinks down against the wall, long tears in the metal forming in his wake. “Keep your distance.”

Your brow lifts. “Says the man who was literally crawling up my ass three seconds ago.” You ignore him, taking another step, ignoring the way his words ring through your head. Do you get off on disobeying me?

Yeah…maybe you do. Just a little bit.

You crouch down low, getting on his level. “Mig, tell me what happened.”

“Don’t call me that,” he spits, staring you down for a moment before forcing his head to the side, an action that looks like it takes a lot of effort. “Just…go to your room, leave me be.”

“You telling me not to call you that just makes me wanna call you that more.” You shift onto your knees, inching a little closer. “I can’t leave you be, not when you just put a bunch of holes in the wall,” you lift your hand to your throat, where the scratches he left are already almost gone, “and almost in me. Tell me what happened.”

He tilts his head back against the wall, still turned away from you, one crimson eye looking your way. “Mierda, you’re stubborn.”

You roll your eyes. “Like you didn’t know that already. Talk.”

“Earth 1365-7,” he starts, eyes fluttering shut. His eyelashes are unfair, you think to yourself, the way they fan out across his even more unfair cheekbones. “I ended up in their version of OSCORP, some testing centre. Different serums and gases and…they were trying to weaponize a kind of paralytic that’s found in certain spider venom.”

His tongue pokes out after he says the word venom, tracing the tips of his fangs, and you swallow hard.

Bite me, bite me, bite me.

You shake your head, silencing the thought.

“And you stopped them?” you prompt, when he doesn’t go further, instead inhaling deeply and scrubbing a hand down his face.

“I did,” he tells you, but there’s no trace of triumph in his voice or on his face. “But I stumbled into one of the other labs, and as soon as I did…” He trails off, body shifting against the floor, and it’s impossible to miss the ripple in his skin-tight suit, the way he props one knee up, blocking your view of his crotch. “It was some sort of plant that they’d been researching. The pollen, it raises a person’s heart rate, skyrockets it, and muddles their senses. If left untreated, it can kill them.”

You stare at him hard. “What’s the treatment, Miguel?”

“The side effects,” he continues, ignoring your question. “Heightened blood pressure, extremely sensitive skin, lowered inhibitions, and…”

“Mig, would you just tell me?”

“Arousal,” he finishes, and you freeze. “Intense arousal. I didn’t mean to jump on you like that, I just…The only way to treat it is to…”

He doesn’t say it out loud, but the implication is clear, along with the intense reminder of how he was pressed against you.

You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, shrugging a shoulder, trying like hell to look non-committal, like your skin isn’t still tingling in all the places he touched you. “Lowered inhibitions, like you said.”

He doesn’t say anything so much as hum in response, his head lolling to the side again. His eyes are fire when they open again, landing on you and pinning you in place. It makes your breath hitch again, palms lowering to rest on your thighs.

“You need to get out of here, cariño,” he murmurs, his voice low, husky, fingers tapping against his bent knee. “I need to deal with this.”

You’ve inched a bit closer to him, you realize, your traitorous body giving you away.

“How are you gonna deal with it?” you ask, barely above a whisper. Every inch of you is tingling now, not just the places he touched, and the way he tilts his head back again and groans is not helping matters. “Maybe I should…help.”

His eyes flash to you, pools of red, pupils blown big as dinner plates. “You want to…help.”

“You said this could kill you,” you continue, leaning forward until your palms hit the floor. “Someone should…keep an eye on you, y’know. Make sure you…y’know, don’t.”

“How articulate of you.”

“Fuck off.”

He chuckles, the sound deep and rumbly, but you don’t miss the way his shoulders shake even after the laughter has stopped. His breathing is shaky too, you can hear it from where you’re crouched. Worry threads through the lust that’s seemingly replaced your blood, and you slide even closer to him, until there’s maybe two feet between you.

“I don’t want you to die.” The words hang heavy in the air and the truth of them twists your guts. Stubborn ass he may be, but he’s done nothing but protect you since he found you back on Earth 374. You…care. You care a lot.

“Lyla can keep an eye on me,” he spits, but you just get closer.

“So she can wipe her hard drive and clean her eyes with soap afterward?” you joke. “I can’t leave you like this, Mig. Can AIs even use soap?”

“Don’t call me that,” he says again.

“Let me help you,” you say, the words coming easier, firmer. “You know that I can.”

You close the distance completely, your knees bumping the side of his thigh and your hand covering his on the floor. The fabric of his suit recedes, revealing his hands, and your fingers brush over his knuckles. “I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity,” you tell him, leaning back on your heels, lifting your other hand to pull his bent knee straight. “You need help, and I’m offering it.”

He groans again.

“I’ve owed you, this whole time,” you continue, resting your hand on his shin as his leg rests on the floor. It takes everything in you not to let your eyes wander up to the space between his hips, but you manage. “You saved my life; let me save yours.”

The spider made you strong, made you fast, but Miguel…He’s so large, so imposing, and the moment his hands land on your body, you know he’s been holding back from you.

He maneuvers you into his lap, your knees resting against his hips. In an instant you can feel him, the hard prod of his cock against your cunt, separated only by the thin fabric of your pants and the rippling material of his suit. Miguel groans as he fits his face into your neck, talons pressing into your hips as the suit melts away, every inch of his golden skin suddenly on display. It’s overwhelming and your blood heats, unable to bite back the moan that slips free when he pulls your hips against his, the pressure between you exactly what you need it to be.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” he grits out, his hips lifting off the floor as he chases your body, as you chase each other. “This is just…”

“I’m helping,” you breathe out, your hands curling around his shoulders as you settle into his lap. Well, not so much as settle as twitch, the fabric of your shirt riding up as his hands move up your sides, curling around your ribs. “This is only about keeping you alive.”

“Alive,” he repeats, and you bite your lip, feeling his fingers curl into your shirt. “You have no fucking idea how…”

“God, shut up,” you groan, gripping his face in your hands, claiming his mouth for your own. The sound of tearing fabric reaches your ears as your lips meet his and he growls at you, shredding your shirt and tossing the fabric away, leaving you bare from the waist up. His hands drop to your ass then, tugging at your pants and you bite his bottom lip. “You could just ask nicely, you know.”

He just grunts in response, effectively splitting the elastic band and pulling the rest of your clothes away. You’re completely naked now, perched in his lap, and your skin heats in every spot you’re pressed to him. Which is basically everywhere. “I’ll get you new ones,” he grits, and you roll your eyes, biting at his lip again. 

There’s little ceremony to it. Miguel drags you along him a few times, the feel of him prodding between your legs lighting a fire in you. You can feel how big he is, but you busy yourself with his mouth, your knees pressing against his hips. One of his hands skims down your back, curving around your hip and sliding two fingers through your folds. It makes you keen, a moan ripping from your throat when he presses those fingers into you.

“Wet,” he grunts against your mouth, his breath stuttering as you clench around his digits. You rock your hips into his hand, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging until his head tips back.

“Take what you need,” you say, and for once, he listens to you.

The feeling of his fingers pulling out leaves you aching, but you’re not left waiting for long. He presses against the small of your back, tilting your hips, and then he’s inside you, sheathing himself to the hilt in one smooth motion. The sheer fullness that sweeps through you is almost too overwhelming, and your breath whooshes out of you as your chest slams into his. You can feel the way his heart is racing, the rapid thump beneath his sternum nearly vibrating against your own.

This doesn’t mean anything, you remind yourself, circling your hips as he plants his feet, bends his knees. He holds you up slightly, giving just enough space between you for him to thrust up into you, hitting a spot that makes you see stars. This is just…helping. I’m just being helpful.

You’re just…quickly reaching the most intense orgasm you’ve had in a hot second.

He keeps hammering into that same spot, the lab filling with the sound of his skin on yours, your panting breaths, and Miguel’s grunts. It’s fucking euphoric, your head falling back between your shoulders. “Mig, I—”

“Not yet,” he growls, and suddenly you’re being lifted, the heavy weight of him still pressed inside you. Your grip on each other is firm, and Miguel moves quickly, sweeping you out of the lab and through the door that leads to his room. You barely get a breath in before your back hits his mattress and he’s towering over you, his big hands curled around your thighs, kneeling so he can prop your ass up. The angle lets him drive deeper and you throw your arms over your head, curling your fingers in his bedsheets, trying to find some leverage.

One of his hands moves over you, palm grazing your stomach before moving down. He thumbs at your clit, dragging another moan out of you, his brow going hard. You have a better look at his face now, his expression pinched, eyes trained on where he’s pounding into you. His skin is damp with sweat, a sheen on his forehead, his mouth hanging open. You swear you can see his pulse jumping in his throat.

“Want you to cum, princesa,” he nearly begs, and the hitch in his voice makes goosebumps rise all over your body. “So. Fucking. Tight.” He punctuates each word with a deep thrust and everything in you goes impossibly tighter.

“This is about you,” you pant out, clawing at his sheets. “I don’t need—”

But you do. You really fucking do, but something about admitting that to him right here and now feels…wrong. It twists your gut in a not-so-fun way.

“I don’t care, I need you to cum,” he growls, releasing his grip on your thigh to grab at your chin, forcing your eyes on his. “Now.”

Suddenly, your body is not your own. It responds instantly to his command, a string threading your muscles drawing tight as a bow before snapping entirely. Your back arches against the mattress, so hard it just brings you closer to him and Miguel drops his head, dragging his nose up the middle of your chest. It courses through your entire body, your hips lifting entirely off the bed to chase him, to keep him buried within you.

He groans as you cum, the sound the only thing you’re aware of besides the pleasure setting your body on fire. There’s a ringing in your ears, your muscles going lax as you start to come down, but he doesn’t stop. One of your hands floats to his hair, tangling the sweat-damp strands around your knuckles and you can feel his growl shake your ribs.

“More,” he grits, raking his hands down your sides, gripping your hips again. You inhale sharply as his head turns, skirting across your chest to take your nipple between his lips. The pace is relentless, your body growing tight again with his movements. He’s playing you like a fucking fiddle, and you’re the first to admit you’re loving every second of it.

You manage to open your eyes, the pleasure receding just enough for you to regain some of your faculties.

He’s staring right back.

It makes you flinch, jolting in his grasp as his lips draw back, revealing one pointed fang. You shiver as he drags the tip of it around your nipple.

“Again.”

And again, your body obeys. This time it sneaks up on you more than barrels through you, making you throw your head back against the mattress. “Fuck, Miguel.” Your nails dig against his scalp, tugging at his hair, revelling in the noise it pulls out of him. You want to record it, put it on repeat, set it as your fucking ringtone. How the fuck is he doing this? This was supposed to be about him.

Not that you’re not enjoying yourself. Quite the opposite.

He’s still staring at you, peering up at you from where he’s bent against your chest. There’s something in those ridiculous eyes, something you have no name for, and you force your eyes away, moving them down his body, to where you can see him still driving into your cunt, the length of him slick with you. The sight alone makes you clench, and when you do, he curses under his breath.

“Where…?” he grits, the hoarseness in his voice drawing your eyes back up to his face.

He looks like he’s in pain. Your heart twists in your chest at the sight, reaching up to swipe your hand across his sweaty forehead. “Does it hurt?”

“I need…” He trails off, leaning into your touch, turning his head and nipping at your wrist, at your pulse. “Where can I…?”

“Wherever you want,” you pant, gasping as he drives as deep as inhumanly possible, moving you further up the bed. “Whatever you need to—”

You’re cut off by the roar that echoes through the room. He buries his face in your neck as it happens, most of his weight dropping onto you, hips pinning yours to the bed, chest pressed to yours. He pulls out at the last second, cock sliding through the hinge of your thigh, cum spurting hot against your stomach. He doesn’t seem to care about the mess he’s making of you both, his entire body covering yours as he shudders his way through it.

It feels like it lasts forever. His limbs go taut and then loose, his breath quickening and then slowing against the shell of your ear. You don’t know what else to do except hold him through it, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, one hand finding his hair once more. It’s like his release is chasing the pollen from his system, his superhuman body returning to his brand of normal. He babbles through some of it, grunts and moans and something that sounds almost like your name murmured in your ear.

You just hold him.

Eventually, he seems to come back to himself. You’re loathe to admit you’re revelling in the feel of him against you, the way his hands are tangled in your hair against his pillows. The weight of him is…it’s nice. It’s really fucking nice.

It’s too nice.

You wait a few minutes, wait for him to find his bearings, to peel himself away from you, but it never comes. He’s a solid weight on top of you, and while you’ve been listening to his erratic breathing, waiting for it to even out, you realize that it’s gone…slow. He’s asleep.

“Mig,” you murmur, barely above a whisper, tugging softly at his hair. Nothing. Not so much as a twitch. He’s dead to the world, his slow breaths turning to quiet snores in your ear. Carefully, inch by inch, you slide your way out from under him. You freeze when he rolls onto his side, his breath hitching for a moment, but it evens out again and you slip off the edge of his bed.

Your clothes are toast, the shreds of fabric scattered on the floor of the lab, so you slip into his closet, finding a t-shirt that’s way too big for you. You definitely don’t inhale the scent that clings to it as you slip it over your head.

Your steps are quiet as you pad back into his bedroom, leaned up on your toes as you peer at him. Still asleep, hasn’t so much as moved from the spot you left him. You draw closer, your fingers curled around the hem of his t-shirt.

He doesn’t move an inch as you reach for his wrist, easily slipping the watch off his wrist and replacing it with your own. The too-big band of his adjusts to your size as you close the latch around your wrist, turn on your heel, and scurry from the room, through the lab, shooting a web up at the ceiling and launching yourself up to the next floor, the level your room is on.

You don’t make a sound as you pack your bag, reluctantly shrugging out of Miguel’s t-shirt to put your suit on, stuffing it into your bag with handfuls of clothes, whatever random shit your muddled mind has decided you need to take with you.

It felt too nice.

You know what would happen, you’ve decided, if you stay. You’d drift off, there in his bed, enveloped by his broad frame, half-drunk off the scent of him. You’d get the best sleep of your life, and when you woke the next morning, he’d be there, staring down his nose at you, the desperate man that had pulled pleasure from your body like it was his damn day job replaced with the grumpy fuck that plucked your last nerve like a guitar string.

The problem was that you knew exactly what he’d say to you:

This doesn’t mean anything.

The problem is that you’ve grown to care too much for him, grumpy, desperate, and all things in between.

Lyla makes an appearance as you sling your bag over your shoulder, keying in the universe you want to jump to, Miguel’s watch not locked out the same way yours is. “You really think that’s a good idea?”

You lift a brow as she cocks her digital hip at you. “You want me to answer that? So you can tell me I’m full of shit?”

“Ideally, yes.”

“Can AIs make promises?”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “Technically speaking.”

“Don’t tell him where I am,” you ask, pleading. “Please?”

“He’ll find out anyway,” she tells you, shaking her head, heart-shaped glasses slipping down her nose. Her eyes are big as she stares at you over the rims. “He’s smarter than you give him credit for. I know he’s a grumpy asshole ninety-nine percent of the time, but he—”

“Lyla, please.”

She sighs, sliding the glasses back up. “He won’t hear it from me.”

“Thank you.”

The portal crackles to life, that familiar tug in your stomach as you step toward it. Lyla fades from view as you take another step, and you ignore the echo of Miguel’s voice calling your name, and step through completely.

[avatartophblindbanditbeifong]

Bloody Knuckles and Palm Kisses

Miles Morales x Reader

1.4k words

Warnings: blood, bodily harm, crying, angst, Miles being stubborn, & reader being a patient Saint.

“Ow.”

Miles hissed again as you swiped the alcohol-soaked cotton ball across his bloody knuckles.

Miles was seated on your windowsill. A dozen cotton balls, once white but now turned red, scattered next to him while you stood in between his parted legs. You would have him sit on a more comfortable surface like your bed, but there was a strict ‘no outside clothes on the bed’ rule that your parents implemented, and it was one you instilled in Miles, especially when he came over in his beat up Spider-Man suit.

“Sorry.” you said quietly. You looked up from Miles’s hands, and for a second, you saw his sorrow.

It was a quarter to 1 a.m. when Miles abruptly landed on the fire escape outside to your window. Bang! The sound of his body colliding with the rustic metal sounded through your room.

Your body reacted to the sudden sound by jolting upward, prompting you to drop your phone onto your face. “Shit.” you thought. You hoped with everything you loved that your parents weren’t woken up by the noise coming from your room.

It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve checked in due to Miles’ inability to be stealthy.

You got out of your bed when you noticed Miles’ state. You swiftly padded over to the window, tucked your fingers under the metal and pushed it up quickly. Something about his body, he looked tangled in the position he landed in, the slight red smears across his skin glistened; the sounds he emitted were those of a wounded animal.

When you stepped outside, you were looking at Spider-Man, but all you could truly see was a beat-up teenager looking for solace in something familiar.

And that was you.

“Here,” You cupped your hands together, “give me the cotton balls.” Miles then picked up one scarlet ball and placed it in your palm.

Then another.

One. By. One.

He did this for each cotton ball.

Into the palms of your hands.

Until they were full.

Miles let out a deep sigh when you turned your back to him, throwing away the blood shed he wore on his body just moments ago into the trash bin. When you looked over your shoulder, Miles was slouched over, leaning on his knees with his head in his hands. His mask was abandoned on the windowsill next to him.

You made your way beside him. “You did good today, y’know.”

He scoffed.

You let out a deep breath. You knew no amount of assurance would help ease Miles’ disappointment.

“You did the best you could, baby.” He lifted his head, staring into your eyes.

“You weren’t there Y/n,” His eyes were half lidded and his eyebrows frowned; he looked tired. The slight downturn of his mouth made him look like the most grief-stricken boy in the world. “I was there, and I-” he swallowed. “I could’ve done more,” he picked up his mask and held it firmly, “I could’ve saved them all.” His voice was hoarse and tears formed in the waterline of his eyes.

“People lost their family; their friends tonight because of me, because I couldn’t get the job done.” Miles whispered that last part. He didn’t want to let you in on the habit of self deprecation he’d grown into.

“Miles, you can’t blame yourself for every mishap that happens in Brooklyn.” You caught the way he shook his head. “You can only go so far with what you can do. You're fourteen. You can’t protect everyone-”

“I can be both!” He interjected exasperatedly. “I’m Spider-Man,” he croaked. You shushed him as his voice grew louder.

Miles pushed himself off of the windowsill, standing up tall. You looked up at him; he really had grown a lot taller these past few months, you thought.

“You are both. But not saving every single person in need doesn’t make you any less of a hero.” You replied, but he wasn’t listening. Trying to talk to Miles when he was upset was like talking to a brick wall; nothing was going to get through.

“I’m supposed to be the protector of the city,” he continued. “A-and I just let two people die!”

You shushed him again. “Miles, please.”

He paused before saying, “Peter could’ve done it.” flatly; devoid of any emotion.

The atmosphere in your room was muted then. The lack of noise was so deafening you could hear the faint sound of ringing that introduced itself into your ears every once in a while.

Miles sighed, breaking the silence. He leaned against the wall, slowly descending until he came in contact with the floor. You looked down at him and positioned yourself down the wall next to him, sitting on your heels.

“Maybe.” his eyes snapped toward yours like magnets. “But you’re not Peter Parker, Miles. You can’t compare the success of one Spider-Man to the other because you both serve a different purpose. Sure, Peter could do things you can’t, but he wouldn’t be able to do the things you can. And that’s okay,” he wasn't looking at you anymore, you slid your palm slowly up the back of his shoulder. “Look at me Miles — you don’t have to be Peter Parker to be Spider-Man.”

That’s when the dam broke. Miles's shoulders dropped in ruin, and his bottom lip quivered. He took in a sharp inhale before letting out a breathless sob. Seeing Miles break down like this was a rare occurrence. Sure, you’d seen him cry many times, but this…

He wasn’t just sad, you knew this. He was angry. He was ashamed. He was crushed.

Even though Miles had been Brooklyn’s one and only Spider-Man for the past eleven months, he still felt inadequate about being “Spider-Man #2.” It pained you to see Miles, an otherwise upbeat boy, feel so dejected and helpless.

You smoothed the hand on his shoulder across the length of his back and pulled him into you. Right then, he melted like a puddle in your arms. You rested your chin on top of his curls and a thin line of tears welled up in the corner of your eyes.

You and Miles both sat there on your bedroom floor in each other’s embraces, crying silently for two completely different reasons.

“I should go.” He breathed, sitting up right and detaching himself from your hold. The weight of his body left you feeling a lot lighter. When you opened your eyes, they slowly adjusted to the clock on your nightstand; 1:30 a.m. it read.

Had forty-five minutes gone by that fast?

“Stay.” is all you said, and it was all that needed to be said for Miles to do so.

When you let go of him and made way to your closet. You walked back to Miles with an oversized hoodie that you secretly stole from him and a pair of your pajama pants in hand to give him. He thanked you and wandered toward your door. A chuckle bounced in your chest when you noticed the way he peeked out of the crack of your door to check for your parents before he slipped out to the bathroom.

When Miles entered your room, a lot more silent than he did nearly an hour ago, you giggled at the sight before you. Miles was engulfed in your shared clothes. The arms of the hoodie made his already long arms look like those of Slenderman and the pants dragged on the floor before him. Miles stood there with a tight-lipped smile before moving toward your bed where you had already taken place under your blankets.

Miles laid on his side, in the space you had given him. This moment was one of the few times that you and Miles lay in the same bed together. You wanted to lay your head on his chest, but that would be too awkward. So, you reached out and put your hand on top of Miles's. Then, he did something that shocked you; Miles took your hand into his and kissed the back of your palm. It was soft and sentimental, you thought. Miles held your hand in his and set it back down gently between the two of you.

“Thank you.” he whispered.

You felt the soothing gesture of his thumb rubbing against yours and before no time you were asleep and so was Miles. You knew he’d be gone before the sun rose to get back home before his parents woke up, but that didn’t matter. What did matter was that he was there with you.

Safe with your hand in his.

Him tenderly holding you throughout the night.

Although he’d be up and out of your window soon, Miles thought he had never slept so well than at that moment with you.

[luvergirl777]

For All the Multiverses | O’Hara

Pairing | Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Word Count | 7k, not too bad. 

Genre | Smut, kind of enemies to lovers if you squint hard. 

Summary | Miguel is an ass, through and through. There’s almost nothing that can convince you otherwise, the constant nagging, perfectionism, micromanaging, and passive aggressive comments fueling your rage. After a dumb remark, you’re done with him, done with all of it. 

Index | Submissive Miguel, soft dom reader I guess, biting (a bit of blood but nothing too crazy), bickering, dumb fighting, a bit of violence but not too bad (normal spider-people stuff.)

“It’s rude to stare, y’know?” You ask, voice absolutely dripping sarcasm with every single word. You can feel his eyes, your senses tingling throughout your body as his eyes bore into you from the top of his little platform. He’s been easily staring for 10 minutes now, glaring daggers at you as you try to work. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you that?” 

He simply lets out a tsk noise, clearly not entertaining your conversation any further. “You should get back to work,” Miguel grunts, and you can practically feel his eyes roll as he turns back around to his projections. You’re not sure why he resents you so much, you’re pretty literally only here to help catch anomalies, literally his sole purpose in life. 

“You should too, you’re supposed to be leading a capture in less than 3 minutes withhh, one sec, Gwen, Peter B, and maybe Jess if you need the backup. Spider-cat is also down to come with Jess if you’d like,” You inform him, once again getting on his nerves without even really trying. Truly, you practically do what Lyla’s designed to do. However, with anomalies popping up more frequently and unpredictability, she needs all the help she can get. 

“I know, I don’t need you to tell me.” Miguel grits out.

“Well, you should get a move on because the rest of the team has been waiting on you for 5 minutes now, but I'm sure you know th-“ 

“Ay mierda,” And before you are able to get another cheap shot in he’s towering over you at your desk, “No micro-managing my mission, got it y/l/n?” his tone is deadly serious, vaguely threatening. Still, you refuse to give in to his constant fear-mongering bullshit, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. If there’s one thing you’re going to do in your time at the spider society, it’s putting Miguel in his place even if it’s just a little. 

“Sir yes sir, Mr O’Hara sir,” You give him a stupid salute, purposely looking dumb to mock him. He leaves with an exaggerated sigh, mumbling something under his breath that you can’t quite catch. You probably don’t want to, you’re sure it’s a string of curses. With a giggle, you immediately turn on your surveillance and begin overseeing the mission. “Lyla?” She pops up in front of you, bubbly and bright as ever. 

“Yes?” She beams, walking around in her little artificial intelligence world. She’s the only other lively thing around here, and you’re grateful for her presence after dealing with Miguel all day. 

“Can I have this mission? Pretty pretty please?? With a cherry on top?” You begin to beg, pressing your hands together and shaking them towards her to see. 

“Well…I suppose Miguel never put in an official request on who monitors this mission. So I suppose I wouldn’t be going against any orders…” She trails off, thinking for a brief moment, “But if anyone asks, I was super busy!!” She exclaims, immediately running off to make herself busy so she has the excuse. It makes you giggle, turning back around to watch your projections spread around your desk. You hate that you share an office space with Miguel, but at least he’s in the air away from you. 

They’re getting their asses kicked, genuinely. You can tell that they don’t know the anomaly they’re going against, constantly getting tricked by the changing of shapes, colors, forms, and even states of matter. Dragging a hand along your face, you quickly ping Peter B’s watch with a message to help them. 

Don't tell O’Hara I’m here yet, but the anomaly glows under ultraviolet light. Think glowing like a scorpion !!! 

Finally, things begin to click as Peter uses his watch to shine the light around to detect it. With a small smile, you pat yourself on the back. Still, while it’s now easier to find it’s not any easier to catch. You almost itch for Miguel to call it, eyes switching between cameras just in case you miss it. 

“Call for backup.” Miguel groans, eyes narrowed more than before in his mask. 

“Sorry, what was that?” Your voice fills his ear and he immediately drops his head, hand coming to rub his forehead as he fights off many choice words. He sits like that for a second as he recomposes himself. 

“God, can't you hear?? I said call-“ 

“Already there.” You hang up, and a loud click right after you finish your last word. (AKA before Miguel can give you any more shit.) Truthfully? You have nothing against him. In fact, you think his combat and intelligence are admirable beyond compare. However, you refuse to be afraid like almost everyone else that comes to help. You don’t understand it, yeah he’s kinda scary because of his authority, but at the same time, he does the same thing as anyone else. Everyone is here to help, and the snarkiness and ego he has is beyond your grasp despite it all. You just so happen to have the pleasure to work right beside him. 

Miguel was avoidant from the get-go, constantly denying the fact that they needed any more help. He can do it on his own, he’s got everything under control, he doesn’t need a set of eyes looking at him, etc, etc, etc. Even when Lyla appeared and gave a very timid “Actually we really would benefit from the help-“ She was promptly hung up on. (She then flashed her message on all of the holograms and projections in the room out of spite.) But still, Miguel was relentless in his belief that he had everything under control. This continued for a long time, however, there was a brief moment where the two of you got along well. 

You’re not sure what really happened, how it even started. The two of you began going on missions together, catching a record number of anomalies for the month with ease. Along with this, you two fell into a routine in no time. He’d get coffee in the mornings, leaving yours on your desk as he was always in way earlier than you. You’d get lunch for the both of you, bringing Miguel his food as it’s rare he’d really leave for long, let alone to eat. It was nice, very nice. 

Small conversations in passing turned into hour-long debates about anything and everything, friendly debates. These ranged from which lunch was the best from the cafeteria, all the way to the legitimacy of how the multiverse works. You thought the Miguel Burger was the best (and most funny), he loves the empanadas. He thought the multiverse was do-or-die at all times, you believe there have to be SOME exceptions in a multiverse of infinite possibilities. Through the small banters and discussions, you had actually learned a lot more about each other than you ever expected. In times you couldn’t agree, you two settled on a truce and no hard feelings. You both genuinely respected the other's opinion because you had enough respect for one another in general. 

Besides from office encounters, you had even started “coincidentally” running into each other during night surveillance. He scared you at first as you snuck through the hall, a giant figure also popping out of his room. After the initial fright and a very over-exaggerated gasp from you, the two of you laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation for a solid five minutes. He had spooked you so bad you even pulled your mask on, struggling to peel it back off through your laughter.  “What are you doing, O’Hara, do you know what time it is?!” You whispered in between giggles, unable to hold them back. 

He responded with a giant smile on his face, the lack of sleep probably going to his head finally. “I should ask you the same thing!” Afterward, you two snuck into the cafeteria kitchen to make a snack. The two of you made food, humming songs and passing ingredients back and forth with very little verbal communication needed. You two even entertained the idea of sneaking one of the projectors back for a movie, but you both decided you needed some sort of rest before morning duty started. 

Another fond memory was his birthday one year. He never celebrates, never even thinks about allowing himself to. You initially bribed Lyla to tell you, and when she wouldn’t, you did some totally legal background stalking to find out. Walking into the office with a cake on his desk, obnoxious balloons, and streamers all over the office, and your frame hiding behind said desk ready to sing happy birthday, your plan was in full swing. Admittedly he was reluctant to even let you celebrate, clamping a palm over your mouth once you began singing. Slowly but surely he warmed up, made a birthday wish, and blew out his candles. 

“Happy birthday Captain!!!” You’re over the top and obnoxious, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him around in his chair. Still, he offers you a genuine smile as you continue your birthday antics. Getting his favorite lunch and dinner, hand-delivering them to his desk, the whole nine yards. 

It’s not until dinner that he told you why, “The last birthday I had, was with my daughter.” Miguel mumbled, avoiding your gaze. “I know, it’s silly but I just wanted to remember it with her.” 

Guilt instantly eats at your heart and brain, immediately feeling bad for everything. You hadn’t even considered the reason why he didn’t celebrate, “I’m really sorry I didn’t know-“ You’re quick to offer your support, reaching out and holding his forearm in your palm. 

“But this is really nice!” He interrupts your apology, flipping his arm over so he can also hold your arm near your elbow, “Really thoughtful and kind, I genuinely really appreciate you, y/n.” 

Don’t even get going on the one Father’s Day you had gotten him a small gift. It wasn’t intentional, you had been at the store to get Peter a cake for him, Mayday, and MJ. Something cute with #1 Dad!! With a silly hero design in the background that you know Peter and Mayday would like. However, while you were in the store Miguel popped up into your mind. With an uncertainty that could rival god, you bit the bullet and also got him a smaller cake with happy father’s Day written across the top. 

You had found Peter in the cafeteria, bothering Miguel with who knows what as he just tried to get his food and then leave. As soon as you gave the cake to Peter, Miguel leaves instantly, a painful reminder he didn’t need right now. Peter and Mayday thank you, and Peter jokingly smears a dollop of frosting across Mayday‘s nose. With a small smile, you excuse yourself to track down where Miguel went. “Captain?” Your voice is quiet and unsure as you walk into the office, trying to see if he’s up on the platform or not. 

You get no response before you’re swinging up there, unsure of where else he would’ve gone. Sure enough, he’s sitting, hunched over facing away from you. “I brought you something, you don’t have to accept it if you don’t want to I suppose.” You try to speak as softly as possible, minimizing the echo in the office. Placing it down in front of him, he picks his head up just the slightest bit to see what it is. Instantly, he lurches up and you think you’ve seriously done it now, stepped a bit too far over the boundary that you already crossed. 

Instead of being chewed out, he instantly pulls you to him, wrapping you in his arms. “Thank you.” He mumbles, clearly trying to avoid voice cracking. You let the silence comfort the two of you, too scared to talk in case it sends Miguel over the edge he was so desperately trying to come back from. It’s nice, your arms wrapping around his waist and holding him close. 

Everything seemed to be going positive and only up in your friendship, you two were happy and well-working co-workers. However, this promptly ended when you slipped up during a mission, made a dumb move for someone else, and got hurt pretty badly. 

You, Jess, and Miguel were fighting together to catch a doc-ock from about 100 years in the future (from Miguel’s world anyway.) Jess had slipped just as razor-sharp blades were flying toward her. What would’ve originally hit her stomach, was not going for her throat. Without a second thought, you had jumped in front of her to avoid the for-sure deadly strike. It caught your ribs, slicing deep to the bone. Jess sprung up, grabbing you and opening a portal without a second thought and leaving Miguel behind. “Fuck, fuck Jess, hurts bad.” You groan, hands flying to your wound in a feeble attempt to stop the blood from pouring out. It soaks everything it touches, your hand completely red and your forearm soon to be.

In a blur, you’re rushed to the medic bay and onto a bed. The entire time, you’re groaning, writhing in pain. “What were you thinking?!” His voice is unmistakable as he storms into the med bay, quickly finding his spot next to your bed as he accesses the damage you took. “Stupid, stupid move, y/n. Idiotic, even.” He’s mumbling more that you can’t quite catch, and you’re too out of it to even try and understand the broken Spanish. “Can't believe you two.” 

Jess cries next to you, holding your hand where it rests on the bed. “Jess would’ve died.” You grit as his hand presses against your wound to slow the bleeding, making you cry out. “Captain!” You scream, hands flying to grab his wrists as you continue to writhe. It’s bad, your hands instinctively clawing at his forearms to try and get him away even for a moment. Easily overpowering you, he doesn’t let up. 

“I know, I know I'm sorry, mi sol.” His words fall on deaf ears as you scream. The pain is unbearable as you go in and out of consciousness, doing your best to remain conscious of Jess’s emotional state. You’re completely out as you get stitched and cleaned up, your body is completely spent and your adrenaline begins to wear off.

The very first time you wake up, Miguel is next to you. His forehead rests on his palms, hunched over in the chair next to you. Your voice is too weak, so you simply reach out and take hold of his arm. “Menos mal que estás bien.” His voice is soft as he takes your hand in his, holding it up to his forehead. “You’re okay,” Miguel mumbles, pulling your hand down a bit to his cheek. You smile, flattening your hand to hold the side of his face in your palm.

“Sorry,” You speak, and he gives you a confused look at what you could be apologizing for. “About your arm, and fucking up the mission.” There are scratches all along his forearm, and you’re about 90% positive it had to be from you. 

“No, no. Don’t even worry about anything.” He speaks, shuffling slightly to stand up. Miguel places your hand gently back down to your stomach. “And what I said about that mission, that was just- I was-“ He can't even finish what he wants to tell you. 

“Please don’t leave me.” You mumble, realizing that he’s definitely about to run away. Miguel huffs heavily, his chest rising and falling. He has a sorry look on his face, and you know him well enough to know he’s not sticking around long. Leaning down, he wraps you in his arms, holding you close and protectively to his chest. It hurts, bad, but you’re not going to tell him as you soak it in. “O’Hara,” Tears cloud your vision. 

“I’m sorry, y/l/n.” And just like that, he’s disappearing. Recovery is a bitch, worse than the initial injury. You’re grateful for everyone visiting you in the med bay, but not once do you see Miguel even for a status update. 

Since then, he’s completely detached again. No longer leaving you coffee, ignores the lunch you bring him every day, not entertaining any of your conversations. You’re somehow completely back to the day you joined. 

Due to this incident, you naturally brush against each other, butting heads on almost everything now. This continued for a while, still remaining relevant here and there to this day. You can see Miguel shake his head as Jess and spider cat come in, they need all the help they can get, before he springs into action again. He’s scary, with fangs, claws, and running on all fours now. Maybe you’ve ticked him off a bit too much. you make a mental note to “STFU when O’Hara gets back” out of fear you’ve created this. (Not an uncommon occurrence.) 

With Jess and Spider Cat, they’re able to wrangle up the remaining anomalies and come back to HQ. The door slamming open startles you, and the mental note you made earlier is in full swing, sirens and all going off in your head. Your lips are sealed more than ever. You can feel his glances, before he quickly turns away, just to look back at you. He’s working himself up to chew your ass out, for sure. This is usually the look that he gives to Hobie when he’s being an idiot. The only thing you can do is turn your gaze down and continue searching through the multiverse for anything unusual. 

“Really? Really, you did the one thing I told you not to do?” Miguel carries on and you’re sure he’s pacing the platform as usual, “¿Por qué? ¿Por qué sigo dando órdenes?“ (Why? Why do I keep giving orders?) He continues to get himself going. 

You don’t know what to say to possibly make the situation better, so you continue your work. “Oh? And now you’re just not gonna talk to me, huh? I see how it is, ya veo cómo es.” (I see how it is.)

“I figured I was helping, O’Hara.” You spit, moving your screens aside to glare up at him. “You know?? Doing the one thing I’m here for? I don’t understand why you think me helping the team is somehow to spite you.” His eyes are beginning to turn red and you’re quick to flash your projections up once more to avoid the glare that is surely targeted at you. Your suit suddenly feels too right around the neck, strangling you. 

“Hmm, hmm.” Miguel nods, turning around on his platform and giving you the silent treatment from here on out. Eventually, he would break, you’re sure of it, have to ask you for something eventually. To your dismay, you’re the first one that has to break the silence in the suffocating room. 

“There's an anomaly on Earth 295-“ 

“Go get it. Since you want to micromanage anyways, you got it.” It’s not encouragement at all, the opposite really. With an exasperated sigh, you get up from your desk and begin to make your way out into the lobby. Rounding up a group of people, you set off to catch the anomaly. It’s easy, a routine capture before you’re dragging the man back through your portal. With another sigh, you shove open the doors to your shared office and plop down into your chair. No other words are exchanged for the rest of the day, the two of you doing your work while passing another in silence. 

You wish you could work alongside Lyla in her artificial intelligence database. Clocking out for the night, you’re preparing to open your portal and crash land somewhere in your city. Anything is better than being here. “I need you to stay tonight for overnight surveillance.” Miguel breaks the silence just as you’re about to press the open button, your arms immediately falling to your sides and your head was thrown back. 

“Fuck you, O’Hara.” You groan, leaving your office and heading up to the overnight dorms to begin your night surveillance. God, you hate him. You joined the society to make the universe better, all of the multiverses better, not to be picked on by some oversized man in a tight-ass hologram suit. Plopping down at your desk in the dorm, you curse O’Hara out in your head. Scanning through your brain, there’s literally nothing you can think of to make the situation better. He simply hates you because he can’t handle everything on his own, you’re sure he’s just projecting but it’s infuriating regardless. The whole night, every second of the surveillance shift, you become more and more irritated. 

It’s 7 am when you crawl out of your dorm, running on 5 minutes of accidental sleep and spite. You’re technically supposed to be at your desk at 7, but at this point who cares. If he says one thing, one single thing to you, “You know you’re 3 minutes late-“ And you’re ripping off your watch and hurling it at his head. Miguel, spider sense less, doesn’t feel it coming and gets absolutely clobbered in the side of the head. You hope it bleeds, truly, as your chest heaves. 

“Fuck, you, O’Hara,” You grit, turning around and beginning to make your way out of the stupid office, away from his stupid little platform, and his stupid little dramatic face. Like an idiot, he chases, “All I do is fucking help you, stick my neck out for these missions, bust my ass, and nothing. You take the credit and I get yelled at for helping.” You're beyond angry, fists clenched at your side- 

“Just put your watch back on estúpida, you’re gonna glitch-“ He watches as you do just that, never crumbling or falling as you turn to glare at him. Scary, that was scary. He’s never seen someone withstand their literal atoms glitching, let alone being so angry they’re able to move also. Still on you’re feet, Miguel ignores the smart part of his brain that tells him to move away from you. 

“All because pretty boy,” You’re stepping closer to him, and Miguel takes all the strength in his body to not cower away from you. Forcing himself to stand tall like always, he takes whatever you’re about to give him, finger digging into his chest, “Can’t take the fact that he can’t control everything. Pushes everyone away, would rather the multiverse weaken than admit he needs some fuckin help, and everyone just believes it. Holds their heads high with the assumption everything is fine, they’re doing their job, getting their pats on the back. It’s such a shame you’re so attractive O’Hara, because it’s ruined by that fucking personality of yours.” Maybe you’re being too mean, but if you don’t say it no one else ever will. At the commotion, a few heads begin to look over at the two of you. 

“Can we please talk, in private, where people aren’t staring at us-“ 

“I’m going home. I’m going through that stupid freaky spider machine, that has a stupid name by the way, and leaving the team,” You say, definitive as you tear yourself away from Miguel and began the trek towards Margo’s office (essentially.) 

“Can we please talk like adults, y/n?” Miguel still follows, this time grabbing you by the wrist and yanking you back harder than he really meant to. He’s strong, much stronger than you, so it’s no surprise that you almost fly backward into his chest. He catches you by the waist, only making your anger bubble more. Glaring up at him, you can see a flash of emotion rush across his face before it’s gone just as fast. “Please, y/n.” 

Miguel isn’t a beggar, never has been, in fact, you can’t even remember if you’ve ever heard him say please before now. “To the office?” You force a grin as the group of eyes on the two of you continues to grow. Miguel offers you a polite nod, placing your watch back on your wrist before allowing you to lead the way. With an annoyed grunt, you eventually make it back to your desk, plopping down in the chair. “If you go up to your platform to talk to me, I’m opening a portal and leaving. Before you even get a word in,” You warn him. 

Miguel walks over with an annoyed sigh, rubbing the wrinkle in between his brows out. “y/n please stay, we need all the help we can-“ His words are cut short as your lurch forward, roughly grabbing his face in your hand. His cheeks are squished together as your fingertips dig into his skin, spinning around. You easily knock him back into the chair you were previously sitting at. “¡Joder! ¡De acuerdo!” (Ah fuck! Okay Okay!)

“Now you need me? All of a sudden, now you need the help.” You hiss, caging him in as you step closer, fingertips digging in even more with each word. You’re basically leaning over him, one of his knees slipping between your legs without even realizing it. Miguel’s hands reach up, timidly wrapping around your wrist in an attempt to calm you down or at least loosen the grip you have on him. 

“Cálmate dulce chica, podemos hablar de esto.” (Calm down sweet girl, we can talk about this.) Miguel offers, a small whimper falling from his lips as he realizes how close you are to him, essentially hovering over his lap. “y/n please-“ It’s nothing short of sin, a loud whine falling past his lips as his hands fly to meet your waist. His big hands almost wrap around you entirely, if he squeezed his fingertips would probably touch together. 

“You’re getting off to this? Really Miguel?” Another groan falls from his lips, you never call him Miguel. Never, it’s always O’Hara or some stupid nickname you picked up from the kids because you thought they were funny. There’s a small smirk on your face, making Miguel’s eyes narrow with lust as it’s clear you’re very amused by his situation. His mind almost melts as you finally sit, your knees on either side of his hips. You fill his senses, judgment beginning to cloud as your smell fills his nose and voice his ears. “You are, huh?” You draw out, the slightest bit of humor behind your voice. 

“You’re just, ah fuck, so pretty when you’re yelling at me,” Miguel speaks, a bit muffled as you haven’t released him yet from your grip. Finally, you let go of his cheeks, leaving behind faint red dots where your fingertips once were. “So soft, warm,” He continues as his mind becomes fuzzier by the second, hands pawing at your suit material. He wants nothing more than for it to be gone right now and for a brief moment, he thinks about ripping through it. He can give you one like his, yeah, he thinks as he rationalizes. 

“You gonna be good? Let me see you?” You mumble and break his train of thought, hands trailing over his suit that is technically molecules that he’s learned to manipulate over the years. With a small nod, he removes the fabric where your hands trail, leaving open skin for you to touch. The rest of his suit remains intact, only his front opening for you. “Naughty naughty,” You tease at his lack of underwear or boxers, ghosting your fingers across his head to tease him even more. Without explanation, you climb off his lap and step away. 

“y/n? Fuck, what’s wrong-“ His worry ceases as you begin pulling your suit off, the skin-tight fabric being dropped on the desk space next to you. “Oh Dios, vas a ser mi muerte.” (Oh god, you’re going to be the death of me.) He knows you don’t understand Spanish fluently, only picking up bits and pieces of his expressions. In this case, you caught death and that’s about all you understood. 

“You know I don’t understand, Miguel.” You tease as you crawl back onto his lap only in a bra and panties, seated securely on his big thighs. Leaning forward, your hands find their place naturally in his hair. “Let’s talk like adults, hm?” You mock him from earlier, a sick smirk spread fully across your face. “Go ahead, tell me everything you wanted to earlier, or else I’m taking my watch off and going home~” You almost sing song, soaking in the hint of misery it gives him. 

“I just wanted to say- haaaa fuck,” You catch Miguel off guard as your lips find his jaw, hot kisses soon spreading down to his neck. You mark him thoroughly, you wanna leave a part of yourself with him. 

“C'mon, O’Hara, or I'm leaving.” You continue to warn. 

“I, we need you here. I know I’ve been, shit shit,” His train is thrown off as you press yourself closer to him, pinning his cock in between your stomachs as your hips search for friction, “Mean to you recently. It’s just because, ah ah, I liked you. But I couldn’t express this because of our circumstances. And when you got hurt, it scared me because I realized how much you actually meant to me. So instead of liking you I thought hating you would push you away and it would eventually dissipate. But you’re so stubborn it only made things worse because you refused to go to a different department at least.” 

“I see.” You barely give him a response as you suck dark hickeys into his chest, peering up at him to catch his expression. “Miguel, let me ride your fingers,” He groans, nodding his head as his palm slides closer to where you need him. 

One of his palms remains on your waist, the heat spreading from his hand to your body. It feels as if you’re on fire, blood molten lava as it flows throughout your body. As much as you’ve hated him recently, he’s still incredibly attractive. And to have him this pliant and finally following your instructions? An added bonus. Your breath hitches as he runs across your clit, running across the small bead as your hips reactively pick themselves up to give him better access. 

“Fuck, so pretty like this, finally listening to my instructions,” You fill the silence, hands falling to hold Miguel’s head in them. “You gonna let me kiss you, O’Hara? Or is that too intimate for you?” 

“I want nothing more, please do.” He groans as you immediately lean forward, lips clashing as you starve for a taste of him. He kisses you back with a matched fury, his palm siding up to hold your torso against him. He swallows your moans as he begins his ministrations, sinking his middle finger completely into you. The kiss is messy, the only thing grounding you as he inserts another finger, expertly finding what makes you tick. Tongues pressing against tongues, lips swollen, moans, and panting breaths mix together. 

“Close, O’Hara,” You warn, “If you stop, I’ll kill you,” A genuine threat as your grip falls to his neck, loosely choking him. It makes him whine, more focused on pleasing you more than ever now. Your hips begin meeting his hand, chasing a high you so desperately need now. You’re soaked, the sound bouncing off the office walls surely embarrassing beyond belief if you were thinking straight. Your free hand finds Miguel’s lips, thumb brushing along his lips and revealing his canines, giant fangs that stick out farther than his other teeth. “Coming,” You whine, losing your grip on him almost entirely as your face falls into the crook of his shoulder, riding out your high. 

“C'mon, cum for me. So pretty, y/n, shaking around my hand.” Miguel encourages you, thoroughly prolonging your orgasm as he targets the spot inside and your poor aching clit. He stops only when your hips drop, no longer able to withstand the abuse. “Fuck, so pretty y/n, all for me,” Miguel continues, pulling you close as your lips reconnect, this time rough. Your hands pull his hair harshly, head tilting back as he whines into your mouth. 

“Gonna ride your pretty cock, get myself off,” You mumble into his mouth, causing him to groan in response. Miguel’s more than happy to let you, puppy dog eyes and all as you pull yourself away from him. He’s big, and you’re sure you’re not completely stretched as much as you’d like but you’re in too deep now. Lining yourself up, it’s a rough start. Miguel’s hands fly to your waist, not pushing but simply squeezing as his head falls back. His face is squeezed hard, whines falling past soft lips before he can think to stop them. “So big, fuck fuck,” Whimpering, you sink slowly inch by inch as you will yourself to take him. 

“Shit y/n. fuck, haaa fuck fuck, tight,” Miguel babbles, unable to hold it back. Taking the last few inches, you lean forward to wrap your arms around his shoulders, desperately needing something to hold onto. “So good, please move, please feels good, so deep,” Miguel feels like his mind is melting, completely pussy drunk as he shamelessly begs for you. You grind against him, trying to get a feel for how big he is before you hurt yourself. Rolling your hips slightly, you effortlessly pull moans from the both of you. 

Your bodies are completely pressed together as you pick your hips up and slam them down, body heat suffocating but so good at the same time. Your face finds itself in Miguel’s neck, moans and whines being muffled into his skin. Miguel holds onto you for dear life, almost bruising the skin underneath his fingers. Your pace is brutal, once again chasing your high with no other regard in mind. His hands begin to hurt, definitely bruising the skin underneath. 

“O’Hara.” Your tone is pissed off as you rip his hands away, webbing them to the armrests on either side of you. He could easily rip them, you’re sure, but he won’t, another thing you’re sure of. “Stupid boy, getting rode and doesn’t know what to do with himself,” You taunt, almost feeling his cock jump. It feels too good, he feels too good as he instinctively curls in on himself. “C’mon, don’t get shy on me.” You taunt, wedging your feet on the inside of his thighs and spreading them. 

“Your stupid boy,” He babbles back, picking his head up more fully to watch how you use him, relentlessly fucking him. “So good, so pretty.” He can see the tip of his cock in your stomach, bordering crazy he’s sure. His fists ball at his sides, doing his best to be good. “Gonna cum soon, you feel too good.” 

“Hmm, I’m not stopping until I cum.” You warn him graciously. You’re about 95% sure it goes in one ear and out the other, too distracted to fully register your words. “Do what you want, Mig, just remember that.” Once again, he definitely doesn’t comprehend as he eagerly nods at the approval. 

As his high approaches, his hips begin grinding up into you, chasing his own release. You allow it, having already warned him more times than you should’ve. “Coming, nghhh ahh fuck, fuck,” And he does, hips driving forward as he cums as deep as possible. You entertain it, sinking down fully and grinding against him as you coax him through it. You can feel his thighs shake underneath you as his hips rest back down on the chair, head thrown back as his chest heaves. 

“Oh, Mig, sweet boy.” You tease, voice flowing through his ears like honey. “I haven’t cum yet.” Finally, you’re getting through to him as you pick your hips back up, dropping down with a wet smack. 

“y/n, wait! Shit, fuck, nhghhhh ah ah,” Miguel is so overstimulated, thighs shaking slightly as his hips buck. You’re once again chasing your high, using him completely as your toy now. “Please I can’t-“ Tears prick his eyes as his head picks up to meet yours, muscles flexed as he pulls against his restraints. Your grip meets his throat, stopping his whining momentarily. 

“I warned you, be good for me and sit still,” You mumble, your free hand reaching for his mouth once again. ”Been so mean to me, so mean Miguel, need to use you. Need to punish you.” You bite into his shoulder, muffling yourself. His whines and moans are nonstop, the overstimulation driving him crazy. Eventually, you pull your head back, finding another sensation to play with. Wedging your fingers into his mouth, Miguel thinks his mind is going to melt. Your fingers run across his fangs, testing the sharpness on the pads of your index and middle. Much to your surprise, (not really), they easily prick the skin and cause blood. Miguel’s tongue is quick to soothe over the two pricks, earning him a loud moan as you run your fingers across his tongue. “My dumb boy, all pussy drunk, overstimulated, just so stupid, hmm?” 

“Yes, yes,” Is all he can manage with your two fingers in his mouth, beginning to fuck them against his tongue in speed with your own hips. It’s obscene, but the sight makes you clench tightly around his cock, earning you even louder whines. There’s saliva dripping now, so messy as he allows you to do as you please. 

“Fuck, gonna cum. Gonna cum for you, Miguel.” Your thighs are growing tired, Miguel doing his best to pick up the slack and thrust up into you. “Cumming~” It’s barely a warning as your head falls forward, thighs shaking and clamping down around Miguel’s hips. He does his best to prolong it, thrusting up with the limited movement you allow him, soon spilling inside you once more as you’re just so tight. 

As you come to, your hips pick themselves up and down a couple more times, fucking his cum into you. “No more, please, no mas, no mas, por favor mami,” (No more, no more, please mami.) Miguel cries, tears slipping as the overstimulation is too much. Your hips still with him still inside, chests heaving as the both of you fight to catch your breaths. Your hands are quick to meet his cheeks, wiping away the stray tears that fall. Leaning forward to kiss the tear stains, Miguel whines as you slide along him. 

“Look at you, absolutely covered in cum, spit, sweat,” You smile, slowly picking your hips up and climbing off his lap. Everything aches, but you’re so satisfied as you wobble over to your suit. Picking it up, you opt for carrying it rather than fighting it over your sticky skin. Miguel looks like the epitome of sex as he remains in the chair, still struggling to recover. “Miguel, you okay?” Your voice is much gentler now, walking over and placing a kiss on his forehead. He nods as you rip through your webs for him, freeing him of his restraints. You offer a soft peck which he takes gratefully, your fingers coming to rub his scalp where you had been tugging at his hair. 

“Miguel?” Carefully climbing into his lap again, you drop your suit over the armrest. “My boy, are you alright?” You pull him close to you, holding his head against your chest as you massage his scalp. You hold him until he comes down fully, placing soft kisses on his forehead and tear-stained cheeks. 

“Yes, mi corazón. Are you okay? Feeling okay?” His hands meet your waist where he had been previously squeezing, rubbing the soon-to-be bruised skin. 

“More than okay.” With one final reassurance peck to his lips, you stand back up fully and grab your suit. You're exhausted, both from night duty and today's festivities, and it’s clear there is no way you’re going to be able to work today. “I’m gonna go home and get some sleep, I had the night shift last night.” The reminder pains Miguel that he really asked you to do that out of spite. “You’re more than welcome to follow, or swing by later.” You offer, tapping on your watch until you carefully open a portal inside your apartment. 

Glancing back once more, Miguel looks cute as he watches you go, suit fully formed once again. You wonder how that works with all the liquid on his skin, but you opt to ask another time. 

“I’ll stop by later,” He offers, not missing the way your face falls slightly. He quickly climbs to his feet, “I just have a couple of things to do here, otherwise I would, I really would trust me.” Miguel explains, big frame easily engulfing you into a hug. His cheer-up protocol works, putting a small smile on your face as you look up at him. 

“I’ll see you later, spidey,” You beam, leaning forward onto your tip-toes to kiss him. He meets you halfway, indulging you. With one final glance back, you step through the portal, waving bye as it closes. 

“I’ll be there!” He promises just as it closes, leaving you two technically universes apart from one another. 

~~~

Hours later, the sound of his portal is unmistakable in your small one-bedroom apartment as it fills the silence and shakes the walls. Peeking your head out of the hall into your living room, his giant frame looks a bit silly in the small area. Nevertheless, the giant smile that spreads across your face is priceless. “You actually came!” You speak, spooking him slightly as you step out from behind the hall wall. 

“What? Of course.” He scoffs, welcoming you with open arms when you approach him. He must’ve gone home and cleaned up, hair seemingly damp and a glow that only a warm shower could give radiating from him. “I wouldn’t miss this for all the multiverses.” 

[modanisgf]

1. OVERDRIVE—

series masterlist || next

note: was supposed to be posted yesterday but i forgot to save it 😍

“y/n!” eunchae says approaching her member.

“hm?” y/n says putting her phone down.

“can you please get us some snacks? i wanna do another movie night soon!” eunchae says making the older member smile.

as much as people insisted that y/n never smiled for anyone, eunchae never failed to make the girl grin at least a bit. eunchae was like a little sister to her, who doesn’t get soft with their little sibling?

“yeah sure, you comin’ with?” y/n asks the younger to which she shakes her head.

“haerin and i are hanging out.” eunchae explains receiving a nod from y/n.

“alright, have fun with haerin. i’m gonna head out.” y/n says ruffling eunchae’s hair to which the latter just sighs.

“i just got ready y’know..”

unfortunately eunchae had crafted a list for the snacks she wanted yn to buy. who makes a list for a gas station run?

y/n repeatedly went through the list as she shopped, making an attempt to not forget anything.

finally finishing, she made her way to the self checkout scanning her items and making her leave.

y/n hummed to the soft guitar chords coming from her headphones as she sat down on a nearby bench. sakura had offered to come pick her up as it was late.

waiting patiently on the bench, y/n scrolled through her instagram not noticing the spider that crawled up on her forearm.

the girl didn’t notice until it was too late, the spider biting her quickly before scurrying off. she groaned in pain before looking at the bite mark.

“what the hell?” y/n mutters, the size of the bruise was increasing rapidly raising her concern.

y/n chose to put it aside for now though, as sakura pulled up. she got in the car with her belongings feeling dizzy.

sakura noticed and raised a brow, “you alright?” she asks to which y/n nods.

“just tired i guess.” y/n shrugs.

the conversation fizzles out soon after that, the rest of the ride being in peaceful silence as the two girls make their way to the dorms.

y/n reaches her room finally but as she reached her bed all she could see was black.

the last thing she saw was herself falling slowly onto her bed.

taglist (open): @haerinsloverr @kaypanaq

[shokuto]

Doing a thing

RULES: Post the last sentence you wrote (fanfic / original / anything) and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence (unless you’re like me and write enough run on sentences to where you can’t possibly tag that many people for words).

I’ve recently had the pleasure of being tagged by two people @awakening5 and @blooming-gwens, so technically speaking I get to drop two lines 🤙🏽

“That’s not what you were supposed to say.”

It’s a little weird seeing the little kid I dragged to the Triskelion walking around like…y’know?”

For the first one…I was recently asked how I’d fix the infamous Spider-Man arc that is One More Day. My response was for it to end relatively the same, with the separation of Peter and MJ, only under more autonomous circumstances. Together, they buck under the stress of Peter’s secret identity being public, on top of the hospitalization of his elderly aunt via bullet wound. After giving some ten years to Peter’s orbit and bearing the loss of her best friend, her second mom, and even their unborn child, here, MJ asks for the first time…when is it her turn? And Peter, who’s too defeated to assuage her fears like he probably should, chooses honesty. He answers, quite simply, “I don’t know.”

Obviously, that’s not the right thing to say to a woman contemplating divorce.

Second one’s from a secret fic. Idk if yall are ready lmao

@porygonkin @letters-to-rosie @azulaang-chakras @twinkle-toph @poetichibiscus @kimchihee @dilftaliaalghul @cosmicrayed and there’s all the writer friends I have on here lmao

(No pressure btw, god knows I’ve been tagged in a bunch of these and am only now actually participating)

[olinblogin]

SPIDER NOIR X GN!READER

CW: angst to fluff/comfort, brief mentions of death, the Great Depression, mentions of WW2 and n@zis

It was 1933, a constitutional amendment had recently passed; the Repeal of Prohibition. Now all of the world was falling into the Great Depression; often hard to even buy foods in most places… it left only the people with the money and status to live; even then they struggled.

It wasn’t uncommon that you’d see the dead body of someone unfortunate to succumb to themselves or having died from lack of food, water, or even sleep.

You sit back in the pub, watching the flappers have the time of their lives on stage as if there wasn’t an issue in the world.

Puffing from your cigar, out of the corner of your eye did you see someone outside the glass panes that was threatening a woman of color with a handgun.

Mashing your cigar into an ashtray you were about to get up from your barstool; only to watch the threatening man get knocked out by another man in a dark Trenchcoat, wearing a fedora. The woman who was being threatened thanked him repeatedly before scurrying off, clutching a rag of canned foods to her chest.

Sitting back in your barstool, you watched the dark-clad man walk into the pub, sitting one seat away from you. “Pass me a Maiden’s Prayer,” he spoke coolly, resting his elbows on the bar counter.

The bartender slid one his way quick, to which he lifted his odd mask just above his lips to sip at the top. “It’s rude to stare, darl.” You could see his lips pull to a smirk… you just knew behind those odd and large white eyes on his mask that he was looking at you. Feeling a heat creep up your neck you averted your eyes and mumbled a quick apology,

Yet to your surprise, the man scooted one barstool over next to you.

“The name’s Peter. You didn’t hear that from me, though.” He took another sip of his Maiden’s Prayer and looked at you. “How about you, hm?”

“That’s none of your concern.” You huffed back, taking a sip of your own drink as he snickered… “mysterious. Just what I like in a person.” That made you choke on your drink, spinning around in your barstool to grab the counter and let out a series of coughs. Your face was red and eyes stingy… now your throat hurts. “Are you trying to flirt with me..?” You squinted at Peter, to which he shrugged. “Maybe I am, Darl. What’s a looker like you doing in a place like this, if you don’t mind my intrusion.”

Cocking a brow, you leaned against the counter. “Just trying to get away from it all; y’know… the war, the nazis, the dead bodies. Everything at the moment.” Peter hummed in agreement to your words, propping his head on his hand. “That makes two of us. ‘m doin’ my best out there to get rid of those nazis… but damn are there lotta them.” Taking one last swig if his Maiden’s Prayer, he set the empty glass down for the bartender to take.

“But, hey. At least you and I are two like-minds that can stick together through all this. Yeah?” You crossed a leg over the other and thought for a bit. “Yeah. I suppose that’s true.” Peter opened his mouth to say something, but you already knew what he was going to ask. “I’m still not telling you my name.” He seemed to deflate at your words and pout.

“I wanna see how many nicknames you can come up with me. Maybe then I’d give you my first name. And maybe my last,” your flirtatious tease immediately made him a spluttering mess, red-faced and using his fedora to cover his face.

“Awh- damn..- that was a good one. Wish I said my line first because now I’m going to look like an idiot,” Peter snorted before placing his hat back on his head.

“Shoot your shot, tomato.” You leaned back, ready to hear whatever he was gonna throw at you.

Peter cleared his throat and adjusted his Trenchcoat before looking at you slyly. “We’re going to know each other eventually, why not now?” There was a silence shared between the two of you before you both erupted into snickers. “You’re right, that was terrible.” You chastised playfully, nudging his foot with yours.

“But don’t you turn ordinary on me now, I get tired of ordinary men. And I don’t want to get tired of you.” Your teasing made his ears go hot, hiding his face in his hand and looking away from you. “You’re good, good looking. Not even a fair battle at this point… you’re wiping the floor with me here.”

You sneakily grab his hand in yours, your fingers wrapping around his gloved ones. “It’s [Y/N].” You mumbled quietly, to which his head snapped to look at you. “What?”

“My name. It’s [Y/N].” You smiled sweetly at him, to which he lifted your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles politely. “Well… ain’t it a damn pleasure to meet a looked like you, [Y/N].”

“You’re right. Let’s get to know each other now.”

[mysteriouswolf]

Welp I've started a new fanfic project, this time with the ranchers, my beloved <3

Inspired by the song From Ashes by Caelen Jester, I'll link it here: https://youtu.be/IgtICTWLYGo?si=lTGtA9ap55VmhqGM

(psst!! Go check it out if you haven't already!! They're so talented and the same one who made the soulbound song!)

The currently-unamed Ranchers fanfic beginning! I'll be posting it once it's done and edited etc on AO3:

“Ahhhh! No! Not like this, not like this!” Tango screamed, fumbling with his sword against the barrage of zombies. Desperately he scrambled up a couple of blocks, swiping his sword in an arch, but alas, they kept coming. Everything seemed to slow down as he heard a hisss from above him, and looking up with panicked eyes, he could only watch as the creeper fell down next to him and exploded.

Tango screamed in agony, everything going black for a few seconds before he opened his eyes to find himself at spawn.

“Ahhh~ Well that hurts.” A voice said, and Tango looked over to his left to be met with…with one of the most beautiful people he had ever seen. The fire around him grew hotter as he felt himself blush and he looked away. Everything was aching, and as Tango sat up dizziness rushed through him. He closed his eyes again, giving him a slight reprieve from the dizziness, and when he opened them he was met with two golden-honey eyes staring back into his, concerned. The man had dirty blond hair that was swept to the side, and a few small golden feathers peeking from behind his ears. Tango blushed again, and the man took a few steps backward.

“Ah- sorry. Name’s Jimmy. I suppose we must be soulmates? What happened? Everything was mostly fine one minute, and then…”

Ohmygod I just got my soulmate killed. And he’s hot. Panicking, I winced, and whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay. Why don’t you take me through it?” He asked, smiling gently, and extended a hand to help me up. I took it, and leaned against a tree, my body sore from the death.

“Right…so I was doing some caving, y’know, as- as one does. And then there was this creeper, and this horde of zombies, and a spider and- god, I’m so sorry. Name’s Tango, by the way.”

“Ahhh…ouch. You must be hurting a lot right now. Why don’t we head back to my shack and I can see if I can find my items and get you all fixed up, yeah? It’s not your fault.”

“It is my fault,” I started, shaking my head, but Jimmy cut me off.

“It’s not. Trust me on this one, okay? It’s not your fault.”

[frasier-crane-style]

For reasons unknown even to me, I “watched” that modern Power Rangers reboot. Since the first thing to happen after the teaser is a bull getting jerked off, I decided to fast-forward until some, y’know, Power Rangers showed up.

-Not many notes about the teaser, which is just Zordon and Rita snarling at each other, except that this takes itself way too seriously for a scene involving a character named Rita Repulsa. They’re speaking in an alien language with subtitles, I mean, c’mon.

-Oh, and the Power Rangers suits are nanotech, like in the MCU, but when you turn them off, they disappear and you’re left naked. A tactfully shot, but fully nude, Walter White is perhaps not the epic and solemn moodsetter the director intended for it to be.

-After that--I swear to God this is true--the Power Rangers don’t become Power Rangers for a full NINETY MINUTES. That is the length of Mighty Morphing Power Rangers: The Movie, which features many, multiple scenes of Power Rangers and Zords. This is a two hour movie and you have to wait until the last thirty minutes to get actual Power Rangers. And it’s not a full half hour, it’s twenty minutes, because there’s a bit of epilogue and credits.

-So, basically, you know how it’s kind of lame that Spider-Man 2 and Superman 2 have these long lengths of the movie where the title characters stops being the title character and you get so much of them being a Muggle? This is the first movie and they’re putting you through that!

When they finally become Rangers and start piloting their Zords, they’re all going “ooh, I don’t know how this works! What does this button do?” Like, dude, this is first act stuff! Imagine if they made a Spider-Man movie where Peter Parker didn’t put on the costume until the last thirty minutes and he was having his final showdown with Green Goblin while trying to figure out web-slinging and shit! Insane!

-Aside from Billy, these characters are really bland. I’m sure there’s a long line of people to tell me how Zach being into hip-hop hasn’t aged well, but without shit like that, these Rangers are so generic and indistinguishable. And even Billy is a motormouthed babbling ‘nerd’, not the affectless scientist the old Billy was. Which is weird, because I heard this one is supposed to be canon autistic. I guess that translates to ‘adorkable’ for Hollywood. In high school terms, he’s way more of a spaz than a brain, which is a crucial distinction.

-Because all the Power Rangers content is crammed into the third act, they really speed-run through all the stuff you’d want to see. The Rangers spend all of five minutes fighting Putties, then they’re in their Zords for the rest of the action. This movie should’ve been called Zords!

-And their first fight is in this zero-G space where they’re totally CGI. I try not to be too much of a practical effects purist--I get the American Godzilla movies making Goji CGI because he’s a five hundred foot tall dinosaur. We should at least give CGI a chance there.

When it’s supposed to be people in suits battling man-sized monsters, but it’s just a bunch of CGI being rendered... yeah, I’m sure on some scale it’s higher production value than the show, but it’s just lacking in any charm.

Yeah, great, the new Ranger suits don’t have wrinkles, but it’s just so soulless. Lots of Disney live-action remake energy.

-Oh, and the fight ends with Billy coming in and blasting all the Putties with his Zord, so... what’s the point of being Power Rangers?

-As for the Zord fighting, it’s pretty dismal. This is no Pacific Rim. Mostly, the Zords just act as tanks, firing away at the Putties and Goldar (who... yeah, you know that shit. I’m not gonna get into it). And with these craptacular designs, I can barely tell Billy’s Triceratops and Zack’s Woolly Mammoth apart.

-In fact, the characters are lacking their Zord motifs altogether. In the original, they’re not just different colors. They’ve got little sabretooth tiger and T-rex design elements in their costumes.

I don’t know, maybe something like that is going on with these new costumes, but it gets totally lost in all the noise and business of these cluttered designs. I hate it.

Also, don’t those chestpieces look like unaesthetic hollow spaces to you? They were probably going for Iron Man, but why rip-off Iron Man instead of centering the power coins? Try to find them--they’re just about lost in a blur of glowy bullshit!

So we spend like ten minutes on the Zords fighting, then they turn into the Megazord off-screen with Billy naming it a Megazord in one of those lampshade-hanging ways instead of Megazord just being its name. He initially calls it a Mother Zord.

The Megazord fights Goldar (whose ‘liquid gold’ texture looks like absolute shit, barely rendered at all) for maybe a minute, since this is the big Super Saiyan power-up and not really a phase of the fight. No sword-fighting with the Power Sword or anything. So, again, Power Rangers movie where most of the action is the individual Zords running around Angel Grove.

Also, the Rangers aren’t all in one big cockpit together, they’re in these little capsules scattered all over the Megazord’s body, which seems more risky and a waste of a perfectly good chance to allow the actors to act off each other instead of all being off in their own Skype call. But whatever.

Rita is dealt with by being bitch-slapped into the vacuum of space, where she’s frozen solid, which is another example of this movie not being sure how camp it should be, and also... after she tanked the extinction of the dinosaurs in the opening scene, shouldn’t someone pick her up and put her in jail? It seems like asking for trouble to just leave her floating out there where she can land on another planet or be picked up by a spaceship and cause more problems.

Lastly, for being a giant T-1000 made of gold, Goldar is surprisingly vulnerable to being stabbed with swords. I’m not sure how that works. He’s a golem made of animated liquid gold. How would being stabbed affect him at all? If it were some super beam attack and he was basically atomized, okay, but don’t use the design principle of a Gelatinous Cube and then tell me it’s vulnerable to being shived.

Also, no kaiju blowing up while the Megazord strikes a pose. Fail.

[msfcatlover]

Y’know, I’d love to have fangs but they’d be a pain to floss. I’d love to have wings, but feather tangles sounds like hell. I’d love to have antlers, but they’d itch when they grew in, then fall off every year only to start itching again. I bet the shrimp colors would hurt my eyes. Trying to process other people’s thoughts would be a one-way trip to migraine town. Honestly, I’m too lazy to bother doing anything interesting with shapeshifting more than a couple days per year.

Telekinesis, though. No downsides. Just float the food across the room into my mouth. Grab a box off a shelf and shake all the spiders off without touching it. Always have a breeze in hot weather. Yeah.

…This was supposed to be a “Maybe I’m happiest just the way I am” post, but I’m now realizing telekinesis would in fact improve my life.

[mage-ical-character-person]

Overanalyzing the Storybots’ Workspaces or…something???

Yeah so I am looking at details because because

sorry if this is a little incoherent I’m diseased at the moment of writing, which wouldn’t be happening if the Storybots were in my bloodstream with my white blood cells. Then again I feel like I’m always somewhat incoherent.

Okay so first of all love the organized chaos it suits them.

They own a skateboard with a what looks like picture of Bing on it. How did they get a skateboard with Bing on it? Do they have merch in-universe? I mean they hardly ever introduce themselves to anyone and yet most people they encounter even in the Outer World know them. So maybe they have merch in-universe? Is it like a sticker or decal that they made? Does Bing ride a skateboard with himself featured on it? It’s also next to a game controller. Bing gamer confirmed.

Next to that is…

What is this thing. I don’t know. It has a toaster upon it. That’s pretty normal I guess. There’s another game controller, it looks like. Bing gamer confir-

He also uses an exercise ball instead of a chair which is such a cool detail. I love that after canonizing his ADHD they put some effort into portraying more than impulsive little ping pong ball of a creature for that. Hope he’s having a good sensory. He’s also got a cool mug where he keeps his lollipop and comically oversized bendy straw. The sticky note of Hap on the side of his computer is also a really nice touch. Bing seemed to have the highest opinion of Hap in Ask, y’know? Moving On!

Bo is adorable. Look at her with her potted plant and stars stickers on the side of her computer along with a little doodle of a smiley face AND HER LITTLE KITTY CAT COMPUTER MOUSE!

And that’s not even all! Her heart-shaped balloon!! The cute little unicorn plush! Rainbow sticker. The mug she’s got on top of her computer seems to have tea in it.

Probably not the wisest decision. But they live in a computer so is there anywhere where it is a good decision to be keeping liquids? Is that why catching the water molecules was such a big deal in the Ice episode? To avoid water damage to the computer? What happens if the computer does get damaged or break? Can they still live in it?

Anyway Bo also has a little doodle of herself with… a party hat? A unicorn horn? Idk there’s a triangle on her head guys.

Beep!

She’s got books and a sticky note with a picture of some guy. Her workspace is probably the tidiest. Good for her but it means less knickknacks for me to like. Anyway. there’s also that cool camera right there but I can’t tell if it’s supposed to be Beep’s or Bo’s cause Bo sits next to Beep and it is closer to Bo’s spot.

As. You can see?

Then Boop

He has a single spider in a jar? For some reason. There’s nothing else in there so he’s not taking very good care of the spider. There’s a sticky note on the side of his computer that just says boop as well which is fun. Also that is not a keyboard. Boop gamer confirmed.

And finally Bang

He has sticky note of peace sign and one of a wave on his puter. That’s very cool and in chharacter. He also has a half eaten apple and a joystick Bang gamer confirmed.

a

Thatse it.

[thessalian]

Council Deputies vs Nonsensical Bullshit

A forest somewhere

Alisaie: We are stopping at least long enough for me to sharpen my blade. It’s dulled from all the hacking through greenery. It’s a greatsword, not a machete.

Astrid: I’m sorry, okay? I wasn’t the one who scattered this crown’s gems at random!

Mychae: You’ve found us some incredible poisons, I’ll give you that.

Astrid: Thank you for looking on the bright side of this. Sorry about the spiders.

Alisaie: It wasn’t that huge one that was in the volcano. I think we’re good. Though the cowardly buggers didn’t have to spend the whole time up trees.

Mychae: Probably should have cast that flight thing on Alisaie, instead of me. I actually don’t mind using my bow.

Astrid: Well, I must admit, I did enchant you a particularly spiffy bow, and-- oh.

Alisaie: What now?

Mychae: Oh no. *hacks through one last screen of greenery* I mean, I should have expected this kind of shit from near a volcano, but seriously?!?

The river: *is lava*

Jallira: That ... I mean ... what?

Astrid: I know, I know. Everything we’ve ever studied says that there should not be trees growing near a lava river. All I can say, I suppose, is ‘welcome to the Badlands’?

Mychae: This is only the edge of the Badlands. I hate to think what it gets like further in. Also why are there undead?

Alisaie: Waitwut.

Skeletons: *patrolling around a seemingly unimportant patch of nothing*

Jallira: ...........why?

Mychae: Random goblin necromancer. Apparently.

Alisaie: YOU GOBLINS LEAVE THE HUMANOID SKELETONS TO LIE DOWN PEACEFULLY!

Mychae: *sigh* I would love to ambush an enemy. Just quietly. Just once.

Stabnation: *ensues*

A little further into the lava forest

Mychae: I’m not sure what’s weirder - fire spiders, or fire spiders that die if you drop them into lava.

Alisaie: I want to know where the things you banish go if they end up not coming back.

Astrid: Well, generally their plane of origin, unless this is their plane of origin, in which case a very quiet demi-plane. Though I’ve banished a few people - like, people-people, who came from here ... I think... Anyway, sometimes they just don’t come back so I have no idea.

Mychae: As fascinating as this is, everybody shush. Behold people who look a lot like members of the guard way back in civilised territory, hanging with Soraks.

Astrid: Oh fig.

Alisaie: How are they all cramming into that tiny shed?

Mychae: *loooooooks at Alisaie*

Alisaie: Look, I’ve seen wizards cram an entire wizard tower into a closet.

Jallira: Let’s go investigate the trapdoor that is obviously in there somewhere.

One secret tunnel trip later, in oddly ... geometrically-carved tunnels

Sorak: Yeah, yeah, you won’t make me talk. Nothing you could do to me would be worse than what my brethren and my god will do to this world when they take it over, and you’re all going to die here anyway just like my men because there is a great evil here!

Alisaie: Yeah, and I’m looking at it.

Astrid: Honestly, if he’s more afraid of this place than he is of his evil sadist god, I’m a bit concerned.

Jallira: Well, if it’s something that the Soraks deem an evil, maybe it might like us?

Mychae: So what do we do with this asshole?

Alisaie: Sword. In innards. Pretty simple.

Jallira: Shouldn’t we take him for trial or something first?

Alisaie; Mychae: *staaaaaare*

Jallira: Sorry. If someone talks instead of attacking, it’s kind of hard to just ... y’know, squish.

Alisaie: I know. That’s why I was volunteering to do it.

Sorak: *suicide pills or something*

Mychae: Oh good. Saves us the bother.

Jallira: Mychae!

Alisaie: You were not going to redeem the Soraks.

Jallira: ............not with that attitude...

Alisaie: *sigh* Let’s just find a way out of here.

Some puzzle-solving, four arena fights, and some pedestal-poking later...

Alisaie: A dragon’s lair? Really?

Astrid: Well, the last gem was being protected by a dragon, so...

Dragon: You stole from me!

Mychae: We didn’t even know anybody lived here! We can just put it back!

Dragon: You’re a naughty person and you must now die!

Mychae: Um ... nope!

Mychae: *stabs the dragon, like, once*

Dragon: *dies, then vanishes in a puff of smoke and a fragment of gem*

Mychae: .................did I do that?

Astrid: Never mind that; that’s only a fragment of it!

Jallira: You were probably right; a dragon’s protecting this one same as the other one, and we have to just ... keep going through whatever illusory weirdness is going to happen next. Mychae, you’re right there--

Mychae: I know, I know, poking the gem. *poke*

Landscape: *suddenly pretty front courtyard of fancy manor*

Mychae: Okay, not what I expected.

Astrid: This is ... this is the outside of that place where we met that dragon with Kythaela-the-clone that time! Just ... a long time in the past!

Spectral Servant: Ah, hello, Magister Kaseinax. You look a bit different today. Please come through.

Astrid: Um ... okay?

Mychae: I see that look, Jallira; I am not going to loot the place-- wait are those cages? With, like, people in them?

Alisaie: Spectral people, Mychae. For-- wait, what are you doing?

Mychae: I said I wouldn’t loot the place. I said nothing about freeing prisoners locked up in tiny cages!

Jallira: This time ... she’s right.

A little ways down the corridor, in a room full of shiny

Mychae: Oooooooh.

Jallira: Mychae!

Mychae: I know, I know; I can at least admire! Behold my self-control!

Jallira: I know it’s hard not to do that kind of thing, but-- Oh, dear, who made a mess of that man’s library?

Mychae: Waitwut.

Another Spectral Servant: *trying to sort the mess in the library*

Alisaie: You two have got to be kidding me.

Mychae: You’re surprised? Remember them in the last couple of libraries.

Jallira: Astrid and I will help; it’ll take just a few minutes. Mychae--

Mychae: I know, I know, I remember the defiler’s office, I’m keeping my sticky fingers out of the library. Yeesh.

And, eventually

Human-looking dude: You’re not Master Kaseinax. But you’re wearing his crown.

Astrid: I imagine this Master Kaseinax is probably dead by now. Of old age, if nothing else.

Human-looking dude: What? No; that’s ridiculous. We don’t die of old age!

Alisaie: What, magisters?

Human-looking dude: No; dragons! And speaking of, since you’re not Magister Kaseinax, I’m not giving you shit. Except a face full of teeth! *turns into dragon*

Mychae: Wish I’d looted the place now. Apparently good doesn’t pay sometimes.

Stabnation: *ensues*

A lot of travel later, revisiting the site of the old parkour library

Alisaie: Okay, three more to go. You said you were getting a sense from around here somewhere?

Astrid: I ... I was. But now I’m not getting anything!

Mychae: Oh, fuck. The Legacy Council’s going to love that.

Jallira: We can’t just not tell them!

Mychae: I didn’t say we shouldn’t tell them. We should just ... wait a bit. Do a couple of nice, simple quests for coin. Maybe it’s just on the fritz or something.

Alisaie: You just want some decent loot.

Mychae: Well, you remember how you felt when that one dragon scared off that defiler guy? Well, being made to leave that treasury untouched was like that, for me. Just shiny things instead of bloodshed.

Jallira: You two are incorrigable.

Alisaie: And you two go entirely off-mission the minute you see a book. We all have our weaknesses.

Jallira: *sigh* All right, we will find you ... I don’t believe I’m saying this ... ‘bling and a body count’.

Alisaie; Mychae: *snickering*

Astrid: She’s trying for you people! Be nice!

[asexxxualerotica]

So has Naomi been brought to Nueva York yet?

Nate: “—And so that’s the Go-Back machine, that’s what helps the society round up and send back any people from another dimension.”

Naomi: “So…this whole group is all about doing what you do on a daily basis in our world, but across the multiverse…and you’re not a member?”

Nate: “Unfortunate circumstances, but yes.”

???: “Black!”

Nate and Naomi both turn to see an irate Miguel approaching them.

Nate: “Oh, hey Miguel! Hey, don’t worry, I didn’t swipe the last empanada this time!”

Miguel: “Black, what are you doing here? I thought I had Layla lock you out.”

Nate: “Oh come on, Miguel, you and I both know it’s not that easy to keep me out of a place I’m not supposed to be—it’s the whole point of my power set.”

Layla: “Besides, I let him back in.”

Miguel: “Layla!”

Layla: “What? He bribed me, I had to do it!”

Miguel: “What did he even bribe you with? You’re a program.”

Layla: “Not gonna tell you—bye!”

Layla disappears back into Miguel’s computer, making him groan.

Nate: “Anyways…this is Naomi.”

Naomi: “Or Dreamweaver—figured it’s better to go with that name here than Spider-Woman since, Y’know, that might get a bit confusing.”

Miguel: “…Black? Can I speak with you? In private?”

Nate: “Hmm? Yeah, what’s up?”

The two step off to the side while Naomi watches curiously from a distance.

Miguel: “Black, she’s not a Spider.”

Nate: “What? Of course she is!”

Miguel: “No, because you already are 765’s Spider, and you’re not at the point yet to have a second.”

Nate: “Well clearly I am.”

Miguel: “How did she get her powers?”

Nate: “Radiation from a dimensional rift that she fell through.”

Miguel: “Does she have the strength, speed, and dexterity proportionate to a spider?”

Nate: “I mean, not really—she’s got some but it’s not that high.”

Miguel: “Does she have Spider-Sense?”

Nate: “It’s more like precognition actually.”

Miguel: “Black! Your new Spider isn’t a Spider—she’s not allowed here.”

Nate: “Well then by that logic you shouldn’t have made this society to begin with.”

Miguel: “I—what?”

Nate: “I mean, let’s be honest, Miguel, everyone knows you’re really just Michael Morbius in a Spider-Man cosplay—the fangs, the claws, the flying, the distinct lack of a Spider-Sense—if we’re going by your extremely draconian rules, then you’re not even allowed to be here either.”

Miguel: “BLACK!!”

Nate: “And I believe that’s our cue to go—Naomi, up and at ‘em!”

[birbthebird]

Yandere! Red Son x Reader—

HeadCanons

[@unknownwolf1996, ask and you shall receive :)]

♛ Red son is most definitely familiar with romantic and intimate relationships but doesn’t see the big deal about it, y’know?

♛ On the outside, he pretends he sees marriage and relationships as a contract. A deal between two people who are together for mutual benefit.

♛ But on the inside, this boy is a hopeless romantic.

♛ He’s seen the strong love held between his parents and would want that as well, but he doesn’t want just any relationship.

♛ He would want a partner who is strong enough to go against him but is also able to handle his short temper and still give him affection at the end of the day.

♛ But he never thought such a person would exist so he instead drowned himself in work to forget about his growing desire.

♛ So you can imagine his reaction when he first saw you: his starry wide eyes, mouth agape, butterflies formed from the depth of his stomach, a blush crept up to his cheeks.

The one person he wished he could have in relationship was right in front of him, fighting his bull clones with quick and hard movements. Your beautiful bare body barely being covered by your swimwear garments made him feel excited,

you were everything he ever wanted!

♛ But just before he could send his bull clones to capture you, Noodle Boy and his damn posse showed up. Giving you a chance to escape while he was distracted, away from him.

♛ After his defeat and return to his home, Red Son immediately began his investigation to find you. Once he learned your home address and your location, Red Son then began to do research about you.

♛ Your favorite food, color, movies, your birthday, your family members, your friends, he wants to know everything about his beloved before he reunites with them again.

And I mean everything.

♛ Red Son shuts himself away in his lab trying to write out the perfect plan to meet with you again. So much so, his parents start to notice and with great concern towards their sons health, they send him out on missions to distract him or least get some sense of fresh air.

♛ Once they learn of his obsession for you, they’re on board with helping their son capture you, even if they don’t want to.

♛ But when Spider Queen attacked and captured his father behind his mothers back, Red sons plan to reunite with you was ruined. The worst part was learning you were under spider queens control, ultimately being the main reason why he teamed up with Noodle Boy and his team.

♛ He had to make sure he’d save you at all cost, oh yeah, and his dad too.

♛ When the antidote was doused onto the people of the city and Spider Queen was defeated, you ultimately became paranoid.

♛ Even when you had the strength to fight, you were still put under that damn spiders control and had no control of your movements, only your thoughts.

♛ What was supposed to be your normal day soon became a nightmare in just second, what if another powerful being showed up again? Only stronger and this time, what if no one will be able to save you again?

♛ The desperation to get stronger for protection grew everyday, you’d train everyday, you’d train until you couldn’t move anymore and even when you rested— you’d learn battle and fighting strategies before training again.

♛ Red son would see your distress and use it to his advantage. He’d appear to you with his army of bull clones, overwhelming you with their large number, after Red Son introduces himself to you— he’d offer to protect you from anything that threatens your safety, all he asks is your hand in marriage. You’d be stumped, you remembered his immense strength back at the weather station and you did value your life, a lot actually.

♛ Having an ally like Red son would guarantee your safety from beings you aren’t able to defeat, but marrying him? That’s a little too fast for you.

“Alright… but let’s just date for now, I don’t want to go too far y’kno—“

“PERFECT! FOR NOW ON, YOU’RE UNDER MY PROTECTION AND MY PARTNER!!”

♛ Red Son expected you agree but even though he get didn’t your hand in marriage, that’s still a win!

The dudes desperate, he’ll take what he can get.

[maximons]

Where Am I?

Chapter Summary: Going from swinging around New York City to waking up in an entirely new reality is a confusing and stressful as it sounds. But Y/n was used to life throwing curveballs, being Spider-Woman and all. But this...was definitely new. Where was she? And how does she get back home?

Word Count: 3,725

Warnings: Mentions of Violence

A/N: Hey guys! Welcome to my new mini series! This takes place after the movie, so here is your official warning: Spoiler Alert for Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness and Spider-Man: No Way Home. In this story, Y/n is based off of Miles Morales. Also, there’s another note under the cut, but it’s a spoiler. Hope you enjoy!

To Find A Home: Series Masterlist

*Okay, so here, MoM ended differently. Wanda still takes down the castle, but doesn’t bury herself inside. Instead, she’s taken back to Kamar Taj and imprisoned.*

Your eyes snapped open as you took in a huge gasp of air. 

You did your best to get a sense of your surroundings, but everything around you was overwhelming your already heighted senses. You tried to slow your panicked breathing as the familiar sounds of New York filled your ears. 

That’s when you noticed you were lying in the middle of 38th street. That’s probably why the honking sounded even louder than normal.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Get out of the road!”

And the shouting.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now!?”

“Take your shitty Spider-Man Cosplay somewhere else! People got actual jobs!”

Wait, what?

That last one got your attention. You sprang to your feet quickly, something the surrounding civilians clearly didn’t expect from you, and scanned the crowd. Your spidey senses picked up on the voice of the person who shouted that last statement.

“Hey, you!” You made a small leap over to the man, who jumped back slightly. “What did you mean by that? Spider-Man Cosplay?”

“Uh...yeah?” The man coughed as he regained his composure, thankful you weren’t coming over to attack him like he originally thought. “You got the pattern right, but Spider-Man’s blue and red, you got a mostly black thing going on.” He explained, and with every word you grew more confused, if not a little annoyed.

“Come on.” You sighed with annoyance. “I know Spider-Man’s been doing this way longer than me, but I’ve been around a while too y’know.”

The man looked at you as if you were crazy. And maybe with the tattered appearance of your suit and the fact that you were literally just lying in the middle of the street gave that thought some justification. “Am I supposed to know who you are?”

You scoffed. “I’m Spider-Woman.” You said like it’s obvious, but no recognition came across the man’s face. There was a small crowd surrounding you now that began whispering, some laughing at your statement.

“What, like his wife?” Someone else asked.

“What? Ew, no!” You rejected immediately. “No, come on, I saved the city like a bunch of times.”

“Yeah, sure you did.” Another voice piped up.

“Uh, yeah, of course I...” You trailed off. This wasn’t just a case of one or two people not following the news, the fact that literally no one around you knew who you were was seriously odd. Something was up. “I...sorry.” You excused yourself, choosing to walk away from the crowd instead of swinging to avoid more confrontation.

You tried to clear your head as you walked, but you couldn’t help but pick up on your surroundings, which made your suspicions grow.

‘I thought they took that building down months ago’

‘Isn’t the Daily Bugle a newspaper?’

‘Tony Stark is dead? Since when?’

Your short walk stopped when you got to Times Square. You looked up at the one of the billboards that was playing the news, and the headline got your attention. ‘Two-Year Anniversary of The Blip.’

“Um, excuse me?” You turned to a bystander. “Can you tell me what that’s about?” You gestured to the billboard, and the guy did a double take before scoffing.

“Yeah, good one.” He said as he stormed off. It was only then when it finally clicked. You didn’t know how, but this wasn’t the New York you knew. You weren’t where you were supposed to be.

So where the hell were you?

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

One Month Later

Peter Parker had dealt with a lot in his life, he should know to expect the unexpected by now. 

So when a night that started as normal Spider-Man patrol was interrupted by someone else in a Spider suit, he shouldn’t have been surprised. But alas, he still was.

“Hey there!” He was mid swing when he heard it. He turned to see someone, a woman, in a suit like his, only it was black with red accents. You shot out a web line, swinging alongside him, but it didn’t last for long as he lost his concentration in shock.

You watched as this world’s Spider-Man let out a yelp and fell thirty stories below before landing on the roof of a shorter building. You chuckled, knowing he was fine, before flipping off your own web line to join him.

“Gotta say you’re a lot more graceful on my world, Pete.” You chuckled. You expected a quip in response but there was only silence as he stared straight at you. “And less serious too.”

“You know who I am?” 

“Yeah, of course I know who you are.” A month ago you would’ve been confused at his statement, but at this point you knew you were an outsider, so you began to explain.  “Peter Parker is pretty much the whole reason I got this Spider-thing under control. You- or he, I guess, has been my mentor and friend for the past five years.” You didn’t get any response back again so you continued. “I’m starting to get the hint that I’m not a thing here.”

“Well...I’m sorry, it’s not just that it’s...” He trailed off with a sigh as he sat on the ledge of the building. You joined him after a few more moments, silently encouraging him to continue. “No one knows who I am...no one’s supposed to.” He said as he took off his mask. Your eyes widened at who was revealed.

He noticed your silence and turned to your, confusion and panic taking over as he saw your reaction. “What, what is it?”

“Sorry, it’s just...you’re a kid.” You said, letting out an breathless chuckle. Peter’s face morphed from confused to offended at what you said.

“I’m 18, that’s an adult.”

“Yeah, well to a 27 year old, that’s very much a kid.” You laughed. “Sorry, it’s just I’m used to my Peter being older. He’s married with a kid on the way and everything so-” You shook your head, stopping yourself. You were getting off track. 

“Anyway, kid or not, you’re still Spider-Man. And right now I need Spider-Man’s help.”

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

After explaining your situation to him, Peter took you back to his small apartment to figure out your next steps. 

After climbing through the window and shutting it behind you, you both hopped down and felt secure enough to take your masks off. Peter went to turn his light on but groaned when nothing happened.

“No, no, no! I paid in advance this month!” He muttered angrily as he flipped the switch repeatedly, hoping that would somehow turn it on. 

You watched his struggle for a moment before surveying the apartment, finding a power outlet fairly quickly. “Here, I got it.” You crouched down, holding your fingertips to it. Peter watched as orange sparks flowed out of your fingers and into the outlet quickly. Before you could even say anything, his lights flickered back on.

“Whoa! I-whoa!” You stood and turned to peter, smiling at his reaction. ”How did you do that- I can’t do that!”

“Yeah, you can’t on my world either. Long story short, something must’ve been different about the spider that bit me, I can do this too.” Before Peter could even ask what, you vanished before his eyes. He looked around in confusion and astonishment.

“Boo!” He heard your voice behind him, causing him to jump in shock. You laughed again as you reappeared.

“That’s insane! Invisibility and electric powers!?”

“Camouflage and Bio-electricity technically, but yep!” You said with a proud smile. “Those were fun to navigate when I first discovered them.”

“I wish I could do that, that’s so cool! I got so many questions, but-”

“Later.” You finished his sentence, agreeing. First things first, you had to hear his plan on helping you before you could geek out with this world’s Peter.

“So I know why and how you got here, like I told you, but I’m not sure why you didn’t go back.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, when I told Strange to reverse the spell, that should’ve sent everyone back to their own universes. Everyone who knew I was Spider-Man left this reality and the ones that knew that already lived here...forgot.”

You eyebrows rose at what he said. It clicked for you why he said no one should know who he was. He must’ve made some kind of sacrifice. “Oh...Peter, I’m sorry.”

“No, no don’t be. It had to be done.” Peter waved it off, and you knew better than to push. Peter continued his original thought. “But you were clearly left behind, and Strange doesn’t make mistakes...at least he’s not supposed to.” You both thought for a moment on your next move. You looked back up at each other, and you could tell you were thinking the same thing.

“You know where we can find him?”

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

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“Look, Mr. Wong, we just need to talk to Strange so he can help her.”

“I should’ve known you were going to continue to be a pain in the ass somehow Spider-Man.”

You watched the back and forth between Peter, now masked, and this ‘Wong’ guy in silence. They went at it for a few more moments before you decided you had enough. “Uh, hi!” You interrupted, causing both guys to look at you. “I really don’t want to be a ‘pain in the ass’, I just want to go home.”

Wong looked to Spider-Man for a moment before looking back at you with a sigh. All of a sudden, he spun his arm around. Dark orange sparks circled in mid air, creating a small portal. Wong nodded his head towards it, indicating you two get in it. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

You looked into the portal, seeing what could only be described as ancient temple grounds on the other side, with people who were dressed exactly like this Wong guy going about their business. You turned to him, wishing he could see your raised eyebrow under your mask. “What’s that supposed to be?”

“Your only shot of going home. Strange is in Kamar Taj right now, and it’s a good thing he is because any resources you could use are also there.” 

You turned to Peter. “I’m just supposed to believe this guy?”

“Yeah!” He answered immediately. “Wong and Strange are the best at this kind of thing.”

“Aren’t they the reason I’m here in the first place?” 

Peter paused. “Well, I-”

“No, Strange is.” Wong interrupted. “I remember precisely saying to leave me out of it. And this” He gestured to you and the portal. “Is not leaving me out of it.” With that, he shook his head and took a step into the portal, turning back to you two after stepping through.

“But, of course, I’m in it. So let’s get this sorted out.”

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

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Oh, hey, two for two.” 

Strange gave you a once over at your response to his comment. He let out a humorless chuckle before turning to Peter, who stood in silence beside you. “What did you do this time, Spider-Man?”

As someone who was used to working alongside your world’s Spider-Man, and as someone used to wearing the mask yourself, you knew how to read expressions without the help of facial features. The way Peter’s body stiffened slightly along with the dip of his head told you a million words without him having to say any.

The way Strange said ‘Spider-Man’ must’ve hit a nerve. You guessed this was one of the people that had to forget about Peter.

You wonder if they were close.

And you wonder how many others this Peter lost in this way.

But you didn’t wonder anything else for too much longer before deciding to step it. “Uh, sorry, Mr. Strange?”

“It’s Doctor.” The sorcerer said as he turned his attention to you.

“Right.” You muttered. “Doctor Strange, Spider-Man here didn’t do anything. I just kinda...showed up here? And he told me what happened and I should’ve just...popped back home by now” You began to lamely explain your situation, hands flying wildly around while doing so. “But obviously, I didn’t and...” You sighed, trying to collect yourself. “Look, I just wanna get back home. That’s it.”

Strange looked at you for a moment before nodding. “Okay.” He relented. “First things first, I need to know what Earth you’re from. You don’t happen to know do you?”

He watched you tilt your head as one of your masks lenses squinted slightly. “Uhhh”

“Yeah, that’s a no.” He quickly intervened. “I’ll figure it out, but it could take a bit. Could you...?” He raised his hand above his head, gesturing for you to take your mask off. You hesitated briefly before remembering that you had no reason to conceal your identity in this world, so you pulled it off. “Thank you.” He said as he reached over to you, and before you knew it, you felt a quick pinch on your head.

“Ow! Hey!”

“Sorry about that.” The sorcerer halfheartedly apologized as he started messing with the hair he plucked. “I need DNA to get a sense of origin, once I figure out where that is, then we can work on getting you back. For the time being though, make yourself comfortable....” He trailed off, silently asking your name.

“Oh, Y/n. Y/n L/n.”

Strange gave a curt nod at the introduction. “It’s a pleasure Ms. L/n. Anyway, like I said, this could take a bit, so” He turned his attention to the group of people behind you, nodding towards the direction of one in particular. “This is America Chavez. She’ll show you around. I’ll come get you both when I have some answers.” You turned towards where he nodded and saw a young girl, even younger than Peter walking towards you with a smile. You smiled politely and waved back.

“I, uh, should actually get back.” You heard Peter pipe up beside you. “I got...y’know friendly neighborhood stuff to do.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the reasoning. “Good to see some things aren’t different between universes.” You held your hand out, which he took. “Thanks for helping me out.” You smiled.

“Yeah, of course.” He nodded. “I’ll see you around?”

“Once they invent the multiversal phone plan, I’ll tell you all about how my powers work.” Peter laughed at your joke before turning to wave goodbye to Strange, who only gave him a curt nod. 

His head hung slightly in disappointment again before Wong opened a portal back to the Sanctum. You gave him a sympathetic nod, silently telling him he’ll be okay. He nodded back before stepping through.

A moment of silence passed over the room after the portal closed. America looked around at the faces around her and figured she’d have to be the one to speak up.

“So, how about that tour?”

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

“Lost in the multiverse, huh?” The young girl next to you piped up as you walked through the, seemingly neverending, halls of Kamar Taj.

You nodded. “Looks like it.”

“Yeah, been there, done that.” America said as if it was nothing, which caused you to look to her in surprise.

“Really? How?”

“Well, I...” She trailed off, trying to think of what to say. “I- It’s complicated. Basically, I can travel the multiverse, that’s my power.” 

“Whoa!” You exclaimed, genuinely impressed by this. After the initial reaction wore off though, you thought for a moment. Having a power like that sounds like a lot to handle, especially for a kid. “That...actually sounds like a lot.”

“Oh, it is.” You chuckled at how fast America agreed. “Not being able to control it is actually how I ended up lost in the multiverse.”

“Oh...” You said simply, not sure what else to say to that.

“Yeah, but it’s all good now.”

“So, how did you end up getting back home?”

America paused for a moment. “Well...I never did actually.”

You rose you brows at this. If this girl had the power to travel universes at will, why couldn’t she just go back home? Why couldn’t she just get you home for that matter? You figured there was a story there, but you didn’t know the girl well enough to pry into it. Luckily for you though, she continued before you could even utter a word. “But, I have a home here. Home is what you make it, y’know? Found family and all that.”

You gave her a small smile. “You've got to be the most optimistic 13 year old I’ve ever met.”

“Hey, I’m 14! Almost 15, thank you very much.” She exclaimed in mock offence, causing you to laugh and raise your hands in mock surrender. 

“Right, sorry my bad.” You said jokingly as you two continued your walk. “Where to now, your majesty?”

“You’re hilarious.” She waved you off as she looked around, trying to figure out her next move. “I always get lost around here...” She hummed, looking at the different paths in front of her. “Let’s just go this way.” She pointed to the right and started walking, you shrugged and followed her.

“What’s down here?”

“Just more magical artifacts it looks like.”

“So like 95% of this place?”

“Exactly.” She chuckled. “I’ve only been down here a few times though, so I don’t- oh.” She cut herself off as she stopped suddenly. You stopped with her, confused at her actions.

“What’s up?” America didn’t answer you, instead just staring ahead with an indecipherable expression on her face. You looked in the same direction, brows raising at what you saw.

There against the wall was what you could only describe as a makeshift prison cell. There was a translucent yellow wall, which you assume is some kind of magic, and inside looked to be some a bed, a tv, some chairs and a bookshelf. Honestly, if it wasn’t for the way the woman inside looked, you would assume it was just a normal bedroom.

Said woman sat on the edge of the bed, hunched over slightly, staring at the floor, almost burning a hole in it. Her ankles and wrists were all individually cuffed in some kind of mystical braces that looked straight out of the year 1635. She was dressed similarly to the other sorcerers you’ve seen around Kamar Taj, but you got the feeling she wasn’t among them.

You figured she sense your presence as she sat up slightly and turned her head. America kept staring at her as the woman’s face shifted slightly. Her face went from being blank to...shyness almost? Guilt? You couldn’t tell. She raised an arm and gave the girl a small wave, one that was only reciprocated with a small nod. The woman’s eyes then moved towards you and you froze as your eyes locked.

The woman’s wave paused in midair, her eyes started to scan you. You were new here, dressed similarly to what she remembered Spider-Man to dress like, but she’s never met you before. Who were you? And more importantly, what were you doing here? Were you here for her? Were you a new Avenger that the government sent over to come collect her? Would make sense. The Avengers that she knew, the ones still alive or in this time anyway, were probably too ashamed and disgusted to even want to look at her.

You couldn’t even begin to form your own thoughts as you felt America’s hand wrap around your wrist, taking you away and leading you back towards the direction you came from. After walking for a minute, you spoke up. “Who was that?”

“That’s Wanda. Otherwise known as The Scarlet Witch.”

Your face snapped from awe to utter disbelief. “The who what?”

America chuckled at your reaction. “I’m guessing you don’t have her where you’re from.”

“Not that I know of, no.” As you continued walking, you glanced back towards where the woman- Wanda was being held. “Why is she down here in a cell?”

America let out a harsh breath at that. “Between attacking Kamar Taj and killing a bunch of sorcerers, trying to kill me to steal my power to travel the multiverse to be with her kids that never existed here, and dreamwalking to another reality and killing a bunch of their superheroes, take your pick.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. You definitely weren’t expecting all that. You glanced back again. “Oh. Uh... her?” The woman in that cell looked harmless, it was surprising to think she was capable of all that. But, you guess looks could be deceiving.

“Yeah. She’s dangerous.”

“That’s putting it lightly.”

“But...it’s not as simple as ‘she’s an evil murderer’. She wasn’t entirely herself. Again, complicated.”

“Huh.” Was all you could think of to say. This place was weird you officially decided.

You shook your head as you continued forward. You only got a few more steps in before you felt that familiar tingle go off. Your Spider Sense.

You put stopped and put an arm in front of America, causing her to stop as well. Before she could ask what was going on, a figure suddenly appeared in front of you.

America faltered slightly, but just sighed in annoyance. This apparently wasn’t the first time Strange did something like this to here. After it moment, it clicked for her that you must’ve sensed that coming. “Whoa, how did you-”

You cut her off with a simple smirk and point to the head, giving no further explanation. You turned to the sorcerer in front of you, who looked a lot different than what you remembered him to be. Before he seemed cocky and arrogant, but now he seemed almost worried. Dare you say sad.

“Everything okay?” You asked. He turned to you and simply stared for a moment before taking a breath, preparing himself.

You already knew this couldn’t be good.

“Y/n...” He started, trying to collect himself. “I’m sorry, but there’s no easy way to say this.”

Now you’ve dealt with a lot in your life, between the death of your father to radioactive spider bites, to evil relatives and friends that tried to kill you, you thought that at this point you could handle anything. Boy were you wrong.

“Your home, Earth 1610, was caught in an incursion. Which, to put it simply...it was destroyed. It no longer exists.”

[noctumbra]

𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥

summary ─ you took a deep breath and opened your mouth to answer him when the idea struck you. his offer.

pairing ─ bestfriend!bucky barnes x reader

warnings ─ smut, +18, bucky is also the reader’s roommate, kissing, oral sex, making out, beard burn, dirty talk, sexy pictures, lingerie shopping with bucky, cam sex, OF accounts lol, friends-to-lovers, mutual pining, i don’t know shit about creating sexy content jsyk lmao, very light choking

a/n ─ inspired by this ask! spider nonnie had blessed us with this great idea. edits and yellings happened and here i am lmao thank you @nix-akimbo​ for the edits, i drooled and screamed and had to change my panties:) hope you like it! please leave a comment if you do! thank youu!! (pictures i used for bucky are edits from, again, @nix-akimbo​ <3 

p.s.: so sorry for the delay! enjoy 5.2k words of filth! pls let me know what you think

It was sort of an off day for both you and Bucky. After having to deal with all the exams and applying to colleges, today was a calm and relaxing day for you. Bucky offered to go somewhere where you could both just be outside and have a change of scenery after holing up in your rooms or dragging yourselves from one class to another. You agreed easily.

His choice was Central Park; he was claiming that some green and soil under your palms might do you good, and you couldn’t see why not. With a small picnic bag kind of thing, you went to Central Park and sat down on the thing sheet you brought from home. It was very nice out; the sun was smiling down at you people and there was a soft breeze. You could hear birds chirping, kids playing and dogs barking. It was peaceful.

“God,” you heard Bucky groan. “I could say ‘fuck it’ to going to college thing and live out here forever.” You chuckled.

“I don’t think you’d like out here very much in winter,” you said as you grabbed a strawberry and handed it to him. With a soft hum, Bucky took it. “Though I wouldn’t say no to the ‘fuck it’ part.”

Bucky frowned. “What? Why?” You sighed. It had been troubling you for some time now, and even though your parents said that they would be supporting you, you still didn’t like the idea of making them pay for your schooling.

“College is expensive as fuck, James,” you grunted quietly. “It’s expensive which means that I have to get a loan, and it’s gonna be a huge problem when I graduate.” Sighing again, you bit into the strawberry in your hand aggressively. Bucky didn’t say anything, opting to stay silent, you continued after swallowing the juicy fruit you just bit.

“I mean,” you started. “I’ll probably apply to some of the scholarships, but I doubt that I’ll get one. M’parents said they’ll help me, but I don’t wanna be a burden.” You watched Bucky changing his position. Your mind was racing to find some brilliant idea that was going to help you get through this money issue. Scholarships were very hard to get, you could work ─ it was more likely to be happen anyway ─ or you could just let your parents crush under your college bill. You snorted when a thought struck you, causing Bucky to give you a confused look. “I might start an OnlyFans account. Seems like it’s the only way to earn some real money to get through college properly.” Bucky grimaced for a second, and then his face got thoughtful. When he looked back at you, he started snickering.

“Okay,” he agreed, grinning. “But promise me that if you ever want to create content with someone, it’s gonna be me, alright?” You chuckled. You knew that Bucky had a crush on you during your first year in high school, but he was over it now was what he said a year ago.

“You just want to have an excuse to kiss and feel me up, Barnes,” you said playfully. Bucky shot you a cocky smirk, causing you to laugh.

“Joke aside, I mean it,” he said after your laughter died down. “Those kinds of things are dangerous if you don’t know your partner. So, I’m offering myself. You know me.” You nodded slowly. Deep down, you knew he was right.

“Yeah, well,” you murmured. “I’ll let you know if I ever decide to do such thing.” Bucky shrugged.

“You have my number, honey,” he said, giving you a soft smile. He had a dreamy expression on his face.  You ignored the butterflies in your stomach that the pet name provided and pushed him back from his shoulder. He went down with a yelp.

“Stop thinking about me naked,” you grumbled. Bucky laughed.

It was a nice day.

Looking back, you probably should have taken him up on his offer. This year was your last in college, graduation was crawling close with every breath you took, and the closer you get to your graduation day, the more stressful your days were becoming. You were drowning in your loans, your rent and your share of bills were waiting for you to pay, your job at the library was on a shaky boat…

It was totally pure luck that you and Bucky were in the same college and decided to be roommates because dorms were too crowded and loud. He was understandable about your money issues, he didn’t have any problems with it since his family was actually rich. It was very nice of him not to force you to pay your part although it didn’t stop you feeling guilty about it.

“Earth to Y/N,” you heard a deep voice and jumped on your seat. Bucky was looking at you with a small smile, worry was waiting to take over his face around the edges. “You alright, honey?” You hummed approvingly, nodding at the same time.

“Just thinking,” you said, closing the book you’ve been trying to read for an hour now. “Got lost in my head.” Bucky didn’t say anything but continued to watch you. The worry was slowly taking over his face. “I’m fine, Bucky, really.”

“Look,” he started, “I’ve known you nearly for nine years now, so I know when something isn’t alright. What is it?” You sighed. You hated bothering him with your money issues because you knew that he was just going to offer to pay everything himself, and just let you be his roommate without having to pay anything ever again. You couldn’t have that. You also knew that he wasn’t going to let you go if you didn’t tell him what had been going around in your head.

You took a deep breath and opened your mouth to answer him when the idea struck you.

His offer.

You looked at him. The corners of your lips were curling upwards slowly as the expression on his face got more confused and worried.

“Why are you looking at me like you are about to kill me?” He asked, tentatively taking a few steps back. You grinned. You probably looked like a psychopath right now, but if he was still up to it, this thing was going to help you a lot.

“Do you remember the conversation we had in Central Park while we were still in high school? It was a week after the applications,” you explained. He frowned for a second.

“We had a lot of conversations that day, honey, be more specific,” he said, and you nodded. He was right. You’ve stayed there for hours and talked about thousands of things.

“We were talking about how expensive the college is and I said I might start an OnlyFans account? You made me promise that I’ll come to you if I ever wanted to create content with someone. Remember now?” You watched his eyes grow wide with a smirk.

“Um,” he stammered. “Look, I’m definitely on board with that, but I want you to know that I can cover you if you want, alright? Like, y-you don’t have to post pictures or videos of your body just to pay rent, I can handle it, okay?” Your smirk turned into a soft, fond smile.

“I know, James,” you murmured softly, “Thank you.” Then, you stood up from your seat and walked up to him. Your fingers trailed over the sharp cut of his jawline, nails scratching his scruff. “Even though the main reason of why I wanna do this is paying my share of rent and bills, but I won’t say no to get laid. God knows I need it,” you scoffed at yourself. “So, are you going to help me, James?” You looked at him through your lashes. You could see that his eyes darkening and feel his jaw twitching.

“You really want it to be me?” He asked. You nodded. Other than casual hook-ups, both of you were single, and you lived in the same apartment so, it was supposed to work perfectly. Bucky’s eyes darkened more like it was possible and stepped forward to press his body against yours. “We gotta set some rules,” he said as he brushed your hair back gently. You shivered. You’ve been this close before, he shouldn’t have been affecting you this much, but fuck him, he was.

“Okay,” you whispered. He smiled and leaned in just a little bit so that your lips would brush against each other. You gasped softly.

“Yeah, I know what you need, honey,” he whispered, and then smiled. Pulling back, he gave you a smirk. “Gotta go, but we’ll talk about the rules tonight,” he said and in ten seconds, he was out.

“Fuck,” you whispered as you let your body fall back onto the plush couch. Suddenly, you weren’t so sure about the whole thing because you knew he was going to ruin you for all the other men. “I’m fucked,” you whined.

Royally, you added in your mind and whined a bit more.

──

It was a week later when you decided to start.

Like he said, you talked about all the rules and things about what to do and avoid, and then you set up an account. Bucky went and bought a camera just for this purpose, and when you complained about it, he promised to use it for other purposes, too. After everything was ready, he took you out for a lingerie shopping.

“You’re already sexy as hell, honey,” he had said, “but we gotta make you look even sexier. I have an eye, y’know it, so I’m gonna help.”

Now, you were in a red colored lacy number with garter belt and fishnet stockings adorning your legs. You had shiny leather gloves that went up to your mid-upper arms. You decided to forego the shoes, and Bucky agreed. When you were done with putting on everything Bucky bought for you, you looked at yourself in the mirror.

You looked fucking sexy.

“You ready?” You heard Bucky ask and took a deep breath. You couldn’t help but feel nervous because Bucky was about to see you in a fucking sexy lingerie. He was about to your ass in its all glory since you were wearing a thong. “Y/N?”

You got out of the bathroom before you could convince yourself to give up the whole OnlyFans idea, and honestly? The look on Bucky’s face made it damn worth it that you didn’t back out.

He straightened up from where he was sitting on the edge of your bed. His eyes went dark quickly. His face darkened, and you saw his lips parting before his tongue peeked out to lick his lips very invitingly. His now-almost-black eyes moved down and up and down again on your body, and he took a deep breath.

“Motherfuck, Y/N, you look so fucking sexy,” he grunted, it was actually very close to a groan, your brain noted. Bucky took another deep breath and held his hand out to you. “C’mere, baby,” he whispered. Shivering lightly, you walked up to him, taking his hand. His fingers wound into yours immediately, squeezing just a little, and he pulled you forward.

With a gasp, you fell onto his lap, arms wound up around his neck and his arms around your waist. His body was so warm, so solid and big under you, you felt like you were very close to fainting.

“Damn,” he whispered, “You were already beautiful, and now in this thing? Fuck me, you have no idea how gorgeous you look, love.” You whimpered just a little, scooting a bit forward on his lap, plastering your own chest to his. His white, wifebeater was only providing you a nice view of his bulging biceps and giving you a little peek of his pecs. His sweatpants, however, they were doing very little to hide… things.

“James…” You breathed. Bucky cursed under his breath and pulled back just for a second to reach behind you. You knew he started the recording, you knew that there would be a little red light blinking at you; you shivered. This was so unlike you, but you wanted to it. Wanted to do it with Bucky.

“Ready, love?” He whispered, and you nodded. “You know what to do if you wanna stop or take a breather, right?” You nodded again. “Tell me your safeword, sweetheart.”

God, you thought, he’s laying it thick on pet names. “Winter,” you whispered. He placed a kiss on the tip of your nose, making you chuckle lightly.

“Good girl, honey,” he whispered and it was fucking on.

He leaped forward to catch your lips with his, moaning loudly in relief when the soft skin of his lips touched yours, you arched into it. His hands were roaming all over your body, nails dragging lines and making you shiver, while his hands were occasionally grabbing your ass and slapping it lightly. You moaned into the kiss when you felt his tongue licking on your bottom lip, and you felt it slip inside when you gasped.

Bucky already had you putty in his hands, you realized, and you wondered what you were going to be in when he was done with you.

“Alright,” he said with a low voice. He gathered you up in his arms and stood, turning around, he placed you in the middle of your bed. “I’m gonna take some pictures, that okay baby?” You nodded, teeth already digging into your bottom lip. Bucky watched your face a couple seconds; his thumb saving your bottom lip from the abuse of your teeth and he stroked it slowly. You poked your tongue out to lick his thumb, and then closed your lips around the digit. “Shit,” he cursed. “Pictures,” he grunted as he pulled his finger out of your mouth. You giggled.

He grabbed his phone that was sitting on your bedside drawer. He did a quick work on opening his camera app and looked at you. “Turn around. Lemme see that peach, hm?” You felt heat licking all over your body as you gasped. Slowly turning around, you pulled your knees under you as you stretched your arms forward to grab the headboard. This position gave your back a beautiful arch, you knew it.

“Goddamn,” he whispered as he moved himself around to get a good light for the picture, and you heard the soft ‘click’ sound a few seconds later. You looked at him over your shoulder, lifting your head just a little. You heard another ‘click’. Smirking, also feeling that you were gaining some sort of self-confidence, you placed your knees apart from each other on the bed, spreading them widely.

“God-fucking-damn, sweetheart,” Bucky groaned. He shuffled and pressed ‘click’ a couple times. You buried your head in the bed and deepened arch of your back, wiggling your ass playfully. Bucky hummed. He reached out to grab one of your cheeks, to dig his fingers into the soft flesh, and you gasped with the sudden touch. Click. Bucky hummed again and slapped your ass lightly. You moaned, pressing against the touch of his large and warm hand, you lay down on your chest.

Bucky trailed one finger down from your crack to your pussy. “Soaking it already?” He asked, voice low and hoarse. Lust, your brain realized, making you moan. Bucky rubbed you there with his thumb, over the soft fabric, and his other fingers dug themselves into the meat of your ass. “On your front,” he said, slapping your ass again. Swallowing a whimper, you did as he said.

“You look so fucking beautiful,” he whispered. You hummed and arched your back again, giving him a nice view of your chest. Click, click, click. Smiling, you lifted yourself up on your elbows. You could see that your effects for the pictures did not go waste: Bucky was hard and tenting his sweatpants. You lifted one of your legs in the air and pressed the sole of your feet to his stomach, right over his abs. You saw his cock twitching under the fabric, and your smile turned into a smirk.

“Drop the phone,” you whispered as you maneuvered yourself onto your knees, still facing him but also facing to the bulge in his sweatpants. Bucky did as you said and put the phone on the ground. “Lemme see you?” You asked next while pulling your gloves off. Bucky nodded and pulled his wifebeater off in a second.

He was a fucking god.

His beautifully tanned and smooth skin and taut muscles were blinking at you cheekily. You could see a faint happy trail leading to his cock. His arms were a bulging muscles and veins mess, and you wanted to trace those veins with your tongue.

Instead, you leaned forward and nosed his happy trail. His low groan and cursing were deaf to your ears because all you were focused on was the bulge that was touching your chin. You shuffled a bit forward and pulled his sweatpants down to his mid-thighs, making his cock slap against his stomach.

Thank fuck for Bucky Barnes and his love for going commando.

You’ve watched his dick swinging so many times when both of you were home. You’ve seen his dick both erect and flaccid through the thin fabric of his sweatpants. Finally, you were seeing it naked and all in display for you to play.

“Love,” Bucky whispered as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face. He sounded turned on. Good, you thought and grabbed his cock. Nosing right under his cock head, you inhaled the natural musk smell coming off of him. You were so goddamn wet just by smelling him, you knew deep into your fucking bones that you were ruined for all the other men already.

Tongue poking out, you licked him clean with slow, kitten licks. Bucky cursed. He couldn’t tear his eyes off you; he watched you as you wrapped your beautiful lips around his cock, watched your tongue licking him from root to top.

Bucky was going fucking crazy.

“Y/N, holy shit,” he moaned when you took him in your mouth. His eyes closed briefly as he tossed his head back with the pleasure. You hummed and bobbed your head up and down. He felt so nice, so thick and full in your mouth; you never wanted to let him go. Bucky grunted when you swallowed around him. He was already so damn close, it was embarrassing.

“Baby,” he said. “I’ll come if you continue to do that again.” You made a soft sound. You wanted him to come in your mouth, but there was this whole video thing to go through, so you pulled off. Bucky, always good at reading you, stroked your cheek. “Some other time I’ll let you have it in your mouth, alright?” You nodded. He smiled. “Move up,” he commanded, inclining his head towards the bed. You scrambled to follow his order. You spread your legs as soon as you were in a comfy position.

“I could eat you up…” He whispered. He crawled towards you on his knees, sweatpants ditched already and he was naked. He looked up at you, his dark eyes boring into yours intimately. Bucky nosed your clothed core. “Maybe I should…”

Whimpering, you wiggled slightly. He chuckled. It was a dark sound that sent chills down your spine. He grabbed your legs and threw them over his shoulder. Laying down on his stomach, he licked a fat line over the fabric.

“James!” You cried out. He rubbed his scruff covered jaw all over your inner thighs. His fingers grabbed the hem of your panties and he pulled them down, ripping them under the fishnet stockings and he threw them somewhere in the room. You gasped at the strength show. You could feel yourself getting even wetter. “Fuck,” you whispered. Bucky smirked. His tongue poked out to lick you clean.

It took you a second to realize that he was mimicking your ministrations on you. You let out a laugh which turned into a moan as the tip of his tongue nudged your clit. Arching your back, you grabbed his long hair. You knew he was good with his mouth; no mouth like his could be bad, anyhow.

“God, James,” you whispered harshly. He licked, licked, sucked and licked again, and you were going crazy. His beard was rubbing all over the slick and soft flesh, irritating the skin there. You were loving the fact that you were going to have some nice beard burn tomorrow.

Bucky slurped, licked you clean and flicked his tongue against your clit one last time before he pulled back. As much as he wanted you to come on his face, he wanted your first orgasm to happen on his dick.

You whined as he pulled back but purred in satisfaction when he laid on you, caging you under his big and muscle-y body. He was making you feel small and precious and honestly, you loved that feeling. It felt even better when it was Bucky.

“Lemme see them, yeah?” He whispered as he slowly peeled your bra off. Throwing it somewhere when it came off, Bucky didn’t waste any time to latch on to one of your nipples.

“Fuck!” You yelped at the sudden warmth around the delicate flesh, back bowing and chest pushing against his face even more with the new position. He flicked his tongue around, sucked and you felt his teeth nipping the flesh lightly. One of his hands was grabbing your other breast, fingers rolling the nipple. “Jaaames!” You whined, your fingers were still wound up tight in his hair. He hummed and pulled back with a pop.

“Fine,” he grumbled, turning your world upside down in a blink.

With a gasp, you were flipped around and were put on your stomach with your hips tilted up. Bucky’s knees were right outside of your thighs while your legs were as spread wide as they could. You could feel his hard cock right against your wet pussy, and you couldn’t help but moan and wiggle your ass a bit. Bucky groaned. His hips moved against yours, cock dragging up and down on your pussy as he reached for a condom. Both of you were clean and you were on pill, but he still wanted to make sure that you were not to get pregnant.

Bucky placed his hands on your waist and slowly moved them up and wound on of them in your hair. He made a fist, pulling them tightly to the side to expose your neck. You gasped and whimpered.

“Ready, baby?” He asked. You nodded. “You sure? Y’alright?”

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Yeah, ‘m fine, please.” Wiggling your ass against his cock, you moaned lightly. Bucky cooed at you softly, his free hand roaming all over your back in a soothing move. His fingers dipped into the holes of the stockings, ripping them just a little to make some room, and then he dipped his fingers inside of you. You cried out. Immediately clenching around the long and thick digits, you moaned.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Bucky cursed. “Tight as a fucking virgin, shit.” You hummed and canted your hips against him, practically riding his fingers. He made a sound of approval, removed his fingers and lined his cock up.

“Yes,” you moaned. “Yes, gimme!”

“Alright, love, don’t worry. I’mma give you what you need.” Swearing once again, Bucky slid inside of you with one slow thrust.

You screamed. Your back arched, hips tilted even higher and you clenched around his hard cock. Bucky cursed. His fingers were grabbing your hair tighter, almost making your scalp hurt, but you were loving the sting. You moaned and hummed as he started to thrust in and out. His pace was careful and slow, and remained like that until he deemed that you adjusted his length and width.

“God, shit, James,” you moaned. “You feel so good in me, so big…” Eyes closed, you threw your head back. Bucky responded your moan with his own. Just like you said, you felt so damn good around him. It felt like his cock was being wrapped tightly with hot silk. “Faster?” You asked, looking at him over your shoulder with wide eyes.

“Fuck,” he whispered as he let go of your hair and placed both hands on your hips for support. His hips fastened their pace. His balls, full to the brim, were swinging back and forth, occasionally slapping against your slicked covered skin. You were so wet that every movement of Bucky’s cock in you was making an obscene squelching sound. You could feel your thighs getting wetter with Bucky’s each thrust.

“James,” you whispered. “Fuck, James, ‘m close.” Your harsh whisper reached to his ear between the loud thrusts of his hips, and he grabbed you by the waist and throat to pull you up. You made a sobbing sound as the changed position made his cock drove in you even deeper. You loved the feeling of having him deep.  

Bucky hugged you close to his chest; one of his arms was around your waist while the other was winding under your right arm, his right hand was loosely wrapped around your throat. You found the loose hand on your throat surprisingly grounding, and you sighed. Your hips flushed against his, you looked like you were sitting on his thighs in this position.

“Come whenever you wanna, love,” he whispered in your ear and placed a kiss on your cheek. The arm around your waist shifted on your hip, and he resumed his thrusts.

Having him way deeper was going to push you off the edge quicker than before, you could feel it. The tension in your belly was coiling with every single thrusts of his, your clit throbbing and your walls clenching around him; you were right there.

You sobbed. Your hands scrambled to grab any part of him; one of them wound up in his hair while the other grabbed the back of his thigh. “Yes,” you whimpered. “There!” You moaned when a little shift in his thrust lightened something up in you. “Fuck, ‘m─” Gasping, you swallowed the sob down. Your legs were trembling, pussy and stomach visibly clenching, you felt your nipples tighten up almost painfully.

“Oh fuck,” Bucky moaned loudly. His long hair was obscuring his face just a little bit, the ends of it tickling your shoulders. His scruff was rubbing against your neck, you could feel his happy trail against your ass, and with all these heightened senses you couldn’t hold onto your orgasm any longer.

You came on Bucky’s cock with a scream got trapped in your throat suddenly. Mouth wide open with a silent scream, your body convulsed and trembled against Bucky’s. If it weren’t his arms holding you upright against his chest, you would have collapsed face-first down on the bed, you knew it.

The spectacular fog of orgasm had covered your mind, making you vaguely aware of Bucky’s jack-rabbit thrusts. He was panting in your ear, hands tightened on your flesh and throat, you could feel his cock twitching in you. You turned your head to him lazily, still drowsy from your orgasm. Your hand on his thigh moved to his cheek to turn his face to yours.

“Come for me,” you whined lightly against his lips. You gave him a chaste kiss on the lips and whispered again. “C’mon, James, come for me.” Kissing him again, this time you bit down on his bottom lip and clenched your pussy around him tighter.

He gasped, his thrusts going mad as he moved his hips one, two, three more times before he stilled. Cock twitching, balls tightening up, he came inside the condom as his body crumpled forward. As he went down on the bed, he took you with him. Never letting you go, he cuddled you against his chest.

Five minutes later, breathing turned back normal, Bucky chuckled. “Goddamn,” he said and you grunted in approval. “You alright? Was I too rough?” You shook your head as you gave him thumbs up. He chuckled again. He rubbed your hips gently as he pulled out of you slowly. You grimaced as he did and watched him disposing the condom. He got off the bed, stopping the recording. “I don’t think this video will ever need an editing, but we’ll see I guess,” he murmured. He walked into the bathroom to grab a cloth to clean you up and himself, and then joined you back in the bed with camera in his hands.

“Shall we watch it before we upload it online?” He asked, brow cocked. You looked at him; his hair was a mess and his lips were red, his body had sweat glistening all over. He looked thoroughly fucked out, and you wanted to see him fucking you while looking like this for… who knows how many minutes. So, you nodded. “Alright,” he murmured and poked around the camera. You settled against his arm, head resting on his meaty shoulder. “Here we go…”

──

It was no surprise that watching fifty-six minutes of heavenly sex tape had led you to another round of sex. This time you riding Bucky into oblivion as he dirty talked the shit out of you.

At the very end, you decided to post the pictures first because Bucky was a bit hesitant about posting your very first sex tape online since it was ‘probably amateur’ and ‘you needed to get better a little’. You didn’t buy it, of course.

So, you cornered him only to learn that he didn’t want the video of you having sex with him the first time to be all over the internet, he wanted to keep it private. It was a very touching thought.

It only took Bucky to a little bit more cornering to admit that his crush on you back high school had never passed.

“Y-you… What?” You asked, feeling dumb. He chuckled nervously. “You have a crush on me ever since high school?” Feeling absolutely dumb, you kissed him on the lips. Bucky let out a confused noise but returned your kiss anyway. “You idiot!” You shrieked.

“What?” Bucky shrieked at you back. You kissed him again.

“I was depressed all those times thinking that you moved on from me!” You said, causing Bucky to freeze for a second. “I thought you moved on and I lost my chance…” You continued but more softly this time.

“Wait,” Bucky pulled back. “You like me back?” You nodded. He looked at you without blinking for a little while. “We are idiots. You’re in this shit with me.” You snorted as he rolled his eyes. But then, he leaned in to give you the softest kiss ever. You sighed happily. “So, are you up for a ‘congrats-you’re-an-idiot-couple’ sex?” He asked, face scrunching adorably.

Laughing, you climbed on his lap again and kissed him passionately as his answer. Bucky just moaned and indulged in it happily.