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ichorai · 11 months

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snow spider ; miguel o'hara.

pairing ; miguel o'hara x spider!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; you were the ice to his fire—and miguel was burning for you.

words ; 4.4k

themes ; fluff, slight angst

warnings / includes ; set before the events of atsv, descriptions of injury/violence, cursing, a bit suggestive, mentions/appearances of other spidey characters, ben being a dramatic idiot, peter & may being adorable, cameos of magneto and doc ock, miguel is down so bad, can you guys tell i'm also in an asoiaf phase ? (winter is coming !!)

a/n ; there will be a part two set during the events of atsv !!

main masterlist.

You were Miguel’s seventeenth recruit. The first of your name. The first that wasn’t a Peter Parker, or a Jessica Drew, or a Ben Reilly.

When Miguel dropped into your universe, one rife with crime and tragedy, stricken by a never-ending winter, he fell into a large pile of snow.

“Damn it,” he whispered through chattering teeth, brushing off the frigid frost clinging to his suit and glancing around the iced-over city. There were sparse few people littering the streets, hovering over trash-fires and clutching rumbling stomachs. This was certainly a stark contrast to Nueva York—the universe looked dead, almost. A ghost town, frozen over into nothing but a glacial artifact.

Before Miguel could start forward to look for the Spider of the universe, a sticky web shot out from seemingly nowhere, binding his hands together. Ah. It seemed that you’d found him before he could find you.

“You’re not from here. I can’t smell the winter on you,” a voice echoed, saturated with curiosity, edged with caution. A second later, you materialized in front of him, clad in a white suit, sharp silver lines running over your form. On your chest was a spider, a pale snowflake engraved into its abdomen. Miguel stared at you with wide eyes. “Who are you?”

A beat of silence.

“Your universe is cold,” was all he could think of saying, still caught off-guard.

You took a step back. “My universe…?”

After clearing his throat, he shook himself out of his reverie. “My name is Miguel O’Hara. I’m from a different universe. I’m here to recruit you into my team to help keep the multiverse from collapsing.”

You shifted, muscles still tense. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

Lifting his wrists, Miguel twisted a hand and used his sharp claws to cut himself free of the sticky bonds. “Let me show you.”

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Miguel wasn’t supposed to like you this much. You were just meant to be another recruit for the Spider Society… maybe a close work companion, or a trusted friend at best.

But as he watched you dart in and out of visibility, your suit only but flashes of white and silver, he couldn’t help but marvel at how easy it was to work with you. How much he genuinely enjoyed working with you, spending time with you, listening to you laugh at his stiff quips. And he really thought he was being subtle about it, but Jessica had already picked up on Miguel’s keen interest in you, always teasing him about having a crush on another Spider.

It wasn’t a crush, though. No, Miguel just really liked your work ethic.

Right?

“Heads up!” you yelled, swinging forward and using the momentum to kick an incoming car barreling right in his direction. The metal doors caved in beneath the power of your strike, veering to the left just in time to miss him.

The two of you were taking down another anomaly that’d cropped up, one of the several dozens in only the past week. This anomaly, however, wasn’t the regular neighborhood villain they’d usually get, but instead an omega-level mutant: Magneto.

Shards of metal rained down around you, but you were quick to deflect by thwipping out large, sticky webs to catch them before they could impale you.

“This guy manipulates metal, Miguel!” you yelled. “Cuffs won’t work on him!”

Another large metal pole rocketed straight for you, but Miguel dove towards you, yanking you out of the way.

“Thanks!” you told him, a bit too wound up to notice his large hands tightly wound around your midriff. “Can you distract him for me?”

Nodding wordlessly, Miguel shot out several glowing, synthetic webs in quick succession to momentarily blind Magneto. You used his shoulder to launch yourself upward, turning invisible in mid-air.

Before the man could realize what was happening, you yanked his protective helmet off, landing a calculated strike to the back of his head. Immediately, all the bits of metal floating in the air came plummeting to the ground, and Magneto went limp in your hold. You swung down to the ground, coming back into view.

“You’re gonna have to alert one of the Spiders that we need a metal-free cage for him,” you told Miguel, a bit breathless.

Okay, a lot breathless. There was a sharp sting on your side—a broken piece of metal must have grazed you during the fight.

Miguel wound an arm around you to help you walk, concern festering within his chest at the sight of crimson staining your once-pristine white suit, his other hand dragging an unconscious Magneto by the scruff of his collar. With a tap of the watch, a portal opened up, flashing a multitude of bright oranges and purples.

Back in his universe, Miguel was quick to hand Magneto over to a few Peters, telling them to be careful not to get any metal near him. You pulled off your mask and squeezed Miguel’s bicep in gratitude when he shifted his hold on you, ensuring that you wouldn’t put any weight on your injured side. Even exhausted, you were beautiful. Miguel remembered the first time he saw you without your mask: the entirety of his linguistic vernacular went flying out the window and he was left embarrassingly spluttering out a long string of incoherent sentences. You were patient with him, beaming wide and nodding emphatically, even though none of what he said had made sense.

Yeah, alright, fine. Miguel had a crush. It really wasn’t a big deal (it was a very big deal). He’d be damned if he’d ever admit it to Jessica, though—that woman would never let him live it down.

Several Spiders waved hello to the two of you as you hobbled by, and you could only give them a winded half-smile in return. Some of them asked if you were alright, noticing the blood on your suit, but you reassured their worries away, “I’m fine. Miguel’s got me.”

A rush of protectiveness fell over him, and he clutched onto you all the tighter, hurrying to make his way back to the base. There were a few Spiders hanging around the control panels, chattering amongst themselves, and Miguel gave them a quick scan to make sure things were going smoothly since his departure. Once everything seemed to be in order, he finally tugged you into a more secluded room, helping you sit on a table as he grabbed the first aid kit.

“Sorry,” he murmured, ripping off his mask as well. His dark hair was disheveled, sharp brown eyes softening with guilt. “I got distracted during the fight.”

“Hey, it happens,” you replied warmly, fingers lifting to pat his cheek. The feeling of your cold skin pressed up against the blistering heat emanating from his cheeks made a shiver dance up his spine. “We’re alive, and we got the anomaly. Everything’s fine.”

“But you’re hurt.”

“I’ll heal.”

With careful, fleeting touches, Miguel drew back the ripped fabric of your suit to inspect the gash in your side. He cleaned away as much blood as he could, murmuring gruff apologies every time you flinched. The guilt worsened when he began deftly stitching up your wound—it didn’t go past his notice when your face twisted with the pain, and you bit your lip in a fruitless attempt to keep the sharp agony at bay.

“You did good out there, Y/N,” he said, desperate to distract you. “What was it like being the Spider in your universe?”

You spared him a loose grin, appreciating his attempts to keep you entertained.

“Tiring,” you admitted, fingers digging into his shoulders when he began another stitch. “I mean, I’m sure you’ve heard the same story a million times by now. I was a scientist, trying to find a way to reverse the never-ending winter. I was bitten by a radioactive winter-spider… the only kind of spider left after our world iced over. I, uhm… I lost my uncle. My mom, shortly after. She was captain of the police force.”

There was a long pause. It was obvious that you weren’t too keen on divulging all the details just yet. Your eyes watered with the memory, a glimmering film of tears warbling over your lower lashes, and Miguel gently patted your knee in understanding, silently reassuring you that you didn’t have to tell him everything.

You drew in a deep breath. “I realized I had powers—I had all the abilities of a spider, and I could turn invisible, and withstand the cold much more than before. I was known as the Snow Spider. A lot of people died from the frost. I couldn’t save them. I tried to help as much as I could, but it was just never enough. And then… I met you.” A smile graced your expression, one that sparked life into Miguel’s heart. “I moved from just helping my city, to helping the entire multiverse.”

Before you knew it, Miguel was tying off the last stitch, biting the thread short with his sharp fangs once he was done. You murmured a sincere thanks, placing your palm flat against his chest, feeling the quick thrum of his heart slamming against his ribcage.

If you noticed how his pulse seemed to kick up a notch with your ministrations, you didn’t say anything. For that, Miguel was grateful.

“There you go. That’s a brief summary of my life story. It’s only fair if you tell me yours.”

The man met your gaze, irises dark and warring with conflict.

“What’s there to say? I got powers, just like you. I lost people, just like you. I built the Spider Society… and then I met you.” The last bit was said as he nudged you gently, and he offered you a tentative smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Hesitant, you lifted your hand, softly grazing your knuckles against his cheek. Icy was your touch, but it felt nice—almost addicting. He found himself leaning against your hand, shutting his eyes as he exhaled.

“You’re a mystery, Miguel,” you murmured, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to his cheek as thanks for patching you up, before sliding off the table to stride away. Miguel watched you go with a lump in his throat. “Luckily for you, I like mysteries.”

“How long has that been a thing? I haven’t noticed because I’ve been too busy thinking about my… miserable past,” sighed Ben, coming to stand beside Jessica, the two of them watching Miguel follow after you like a lost puppy, face uncharacteristically mellowed with an undeniable lovesick expression.

“It’s not a thing,” she replied with an amused scoff. “Not yet, at least.”

You halted what you were doing and turned around to grin at Miguel. “Look, I stitched my suit back together. It’s good as new!”

His dark, molten eyes gleamed with affection. “It looks great.” He caught sight of your web-shooters, fixed against the base of your hand. “I still can’t believe you need those.”

“Well, I can’t believe you have spinnerets embedded into your skin. I can’t tell if I’m more grossed out or curious to know more,” you shot back, taking his hand to inspect his wrist with narrowed eyes. “What other kind of powers do you have?”

With a roguish grin, he bared his teeth, sharp fangs drawing out.

“I can never get over those. They’re kinda intimidating, but in a cool way.” Before you could stop yourself, you tacked on, “And really fucking hot.”

Heat crawled up his neck. He stared blankly at you. “They’re poisonous.”

Still, you smiled at him, all sweet and flustered. “Hm. It’s a shame, really. I definitely would’ve asked you to bite me if not for the venom.” Neither of you were quite sure if you were joking or not.

Miguel was certain he was going to combust into flames. “I can still bite you without injecting the poison into your system. It’s a voluntary response.”

To his surprise, you burst into a fit of laughter. Gods, he was absolutely smitten with that sound. The way your nose wrinkled, the side of your eyes creased, the shaking of your shoulders as you chuckled… it was all too much for Miguel.

“Don’t tempt me with a good time,” you warned.

“Oh, I can do much more than just tempt,” said the man in front of you, making your laughter taper away into silence.

You studied him for a moment longer. Before you could say anything, both of your watches beeped simultaneously. With one more amused huff, you patted his shoulder, brushing past him and pulling your mask over your face. “Come on, mister. Anomalies to catch, universes to save… we can continue this conversation later.”

The months pass by in a blur.

You were wrangling back another Doc Ock anomaly, having webbed up all his metal tentacles, easily tossing him into a temporary laser cage with a sweet smile. The villain was spitting obscenities, going on and on about the power of the sun in his grasp, how you’d ruined everything for him.

“You’ll pay for this!” he yelled, slamming his fist against the glowing barrier.

“Sorry, Doc,” you said with a mild grin. “I’ve met around a dozen of you, and so far, you were the most compliant. That makes you my favorite!”

You saluted him with a wink, before turning on your heel and striding away. It wasn’t long before Miguel found you, falling into step with your stride.

“Look at you, taking on anomalies all on your own,” he murmured lowly, nudging your side with his elbow. “Good job.”

With a scoff, you pulled off your mask, regarding him with an expectant gaze as you leaned forward, so close that your nose nearly brushed against his. He could feel the cold frost of your breath blow over the heated planes of his cheeks. “Well, then, Mr. O’Hara, wouldn’t I deserve a reward?”

The vampire-spider only flushed at your words, mouth falling open and shut as he struggled with a rebuttal.

Your laugh, soft and tinkering, made his heart nearly seize within his chest. Still chuckling, you shoved away from him, saying that you had to get back to your universe to make sure everything was still in order there.

As you made your way out of the room, using your watch to portal through to your wintry hellscape, Jessica appeared out of nowhere beside him, one hand on her heavily pregnant belly, and the other cocked upon her hip.

“God, you really can’t be more obvious, can you?” she asked.

Miguel spared her a glance, snapping out of his reverie and standing up straighter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Everyone knows you’re in love with the Snow Spider. And don’t you deny it—I know a liar when I see one.” She watched Miguel frown, but didn’t bother protesting her claim. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. Tell them, you big grump. Y/N deserves to know.”

Before he could reply, Jessica was already hastening away, yelling over her shoulder that she had to go to the bathroom because the damn baby was kicking against her bladder again.

Jealousy was not an emotion Miguel was well acquainted with. Ever since he witnessed an entire universe crumbling away in front of him, he was careful not to get too attached to anything. To anyone.

But he did. He grew attached to Jessica, who was his most trusted friend, always giving him the best advice and always available to lend him a helping hand. Though he’d never admit it, Miguel was also rather fond of Ben and his obnoxious penchant for his dramatic tragedies. And, most obvious of all, he was undoubtedly very close to his best soldier, Lego Peter.

Then there was you.

It infuriated him—the way you’d smile around him, give him the most fleeting of touches, always pleasantly cold, leaving prickly goosebumps in your wake. You would offer him an affectionate nudge and a myriad of teasing compliments that made his stomach want to fold in upon itself. But Miguel tried not to think too much of it: you were a generally kind person, with many of the Spiders in the society taking a certain liking to you. It didn’t go past his notice that you’d caught more than a few romantic eyes. Every time a Peter or a Ben would openly flirt with you, he could feel himself bristling, bile rising within his throat.

Again, Miguel wasn’t used to feeling jealous. He wanted to be the one cooking dinner for you, holding you in his arms, kissing you, touching you—

To his relief, you never paid them much mind, often politely declining with a poorly-forged excuse of having to return to your universe.

It was nearly a year since you’d first met Miguel when you were at Headquarters, holding a babbling Mayday as she crawled all over you. You laughed when she climbed up onto your shoulders, slipping down into your hands with a gleeful coo, blue eyes bright and wide. With gentle hands, you brushed her messy ginger hair away from her face.

“She doesn’t look like you, huh?” you asked Peter B. Parker. “She must be a carbon copy of her momma.”

“A good thing,” admitted the man beside you, muffling a yawn as he dug the heels of his palms into his sleep-deprived eyes, adorned with dark bags. “Wouldn’t want her taking after her old man, now would I?”

“Why not?” you asked, amusedly watching when May shot out a web from her tiny shooters, swinging away to clumsily scale a nearby wall. “I think you’re very handsome. Trust me, the sleep-deprived look is very trendy right now. In my universe, at least. Nobody can really sleep well with the never-ending cold we got going there.”

Peter gave you a loose smile. “You know what, you’re right. Dad bods are making a comeback. By the way, did I tell you about my coin collection—”

Before Peter could finish what he was saying, your watch beeped noisily, and Ben’s slumped hologram appeared over your wrist. “Y/N, I’m glad you’re here,” he said. You had to hold your tongue not to retort that he was the one that’d called you. “I need you to come comfort me and hold onto my strong, muscular arms as I tell you about my gruesome past.” The pale image of Ben flickered as he flexed his biceps.

You rolled your eyes to the side. Ben had become a close friend during your time with the Spider Society, nearly inseparable after you’d saved his life from an Electro anomaly once. That man was quite the emotional one, he was.

“I’ll be there, just give me a minute.”

“Bring me one of those Spider-burgers, will you? Extra ketchup and no p—”

You tapped at your watch and his hologram disappeared before he could finish his request. With a mild wince, you glanced at Peter. “You wanna come with me and listen to Ben dramatically mope for an hour? I’ll treat you and May to Spider-burgers, because it looks like I’ll have to stop by there, anyway.”

“I would, I really would, but I gotta put May down for a nap,” he said with a sympathetic slant of his lips. As if on cue, the baby fell back into Peter’s arms, yawning widely. Bouncing her up and down, Peter absent-mindedly remarked, “Make sure Miguel doesn’t catch you being all sweet with Ben. That guy is crazy about you. Hah, he’d lose his marbles!”

You blinked.

“What?”

Peter froze, realizing what he’d just said.

“What?” he parroted.

“No, uh, what did you say, about Miguel being…”

“Nothing! Huh? I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes, you did. I heard you. Peter, what are you saying? Miguel is—?”

Sheepish, Peter scratched the back of his head. “Oh, wow, would you look at the time!” Peter pulled down the sleeve of his pink bathrobe to mimic looking at the watch. He hastily stepped away. “I have to go. I didn’t say anything. Bye! I’d love a Spider-burger with you another time! Bye! See you later!”

You watched in bewilderment when the older man swung away with his baby in his hands, muttering out a long string of panicked curses under his breath.

Miguel was crazy about you?

After a few seconds of deliberating your next move, you shot out a web and swung away, heading to Miguel’s private office, where you knew he would be buried in figuring out a solution to the influx of new anomalies. Surely Ben would be alright with you showing up a bit late (he wouldn’t, but you had more pressing matters at hand).

“Hey, Miguel,” you greeted with a soft voice, slipping inside after knocking twice. “Hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”

The man offered you a warm grin. “Never a bad time with you. What’s going on?”

“Well, I just… I had a rather interesting talk with Peter B,” you started, striding across the office until you stood just in front of his desk, with Miguel on the other side.

He tilted his head. “Was it about that collection of coins he lost to an anomaly? He needs to get over that.”

“I—what? The poor guy lost his coin collection? He’d been working on that for years!” Shaking your head, you mindfully got back on track. “Well, no, that’s not what we talked about.”

Dark eyes narrowing, Miguel crossed his arms, deadpanning, “What did he tell you?”

There was a rather mischievous hue to your expression that Miguel misliked. Slow and deliberate, you stepped around the desk, fingers dragging along the smooth top. You stood so close to him that your chest was only a hair’s breadth from his—if he were to take too deep a breath, the two of you would be touching by now.

“Hm… Peter accidentally let slip that you have feelings for me. Is that true, Miguel?” The way his name rolled off your tongue nearly made him choke as his brain short-circuited.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, echoing the exact thing he had said to Jess a month ago.

You studied him, gaze dragging from his stiff face, to his tense stature, and back up again. It may have been a trick of light, but Miguel could swear he saw your eyes linger on his lips.

With a hum, you leaned even closer. He could hear your heart thrumming now, a steady, strong beat—which completely juxtaposed against his own rapid pulse, drumming loud within his ears. Up this close, he could smell your perfume, see the flecks of color within your pretty eyes, notice the way your lips quirked up with a sweet smile. Even whilst teasing him, you made sure that you weren’t overstepping any bounds, giving him ample time to step away if need be.

“Oh,” you said, feigning confusion. Your hand rested upon his clavicle, nails lightly dragging down his neck. A sharp thrill struck down Miguel’s spine at the sensation. You were barely touching him, for God’s sake! “So you wouldn’t mind if I… go ask Ben out for dinner?”

A beat of silence. Miguel’s brows knitted together.

The next words were susurrated as you dipped forward to nudge your nose along his neck, pressing a cold whisper of a kiss along the underside of his jaw. “Or if I… I don’t know… if I invite him to stay at my place for the night?”

Of course, there was no real weight to your words. Ben was simply a good friend, but damn if you didn’t enjoy the way Miguel’s eyes twitched.

Finally snapping, a low growl rumbled within his chest, his hands shooting out to grab your waist. You were cold to the touch, the ice to his fire, as his fingers curled over your back, shoving you up against the wall behind his desk. As if on instinct, your hands came to clutch at his broad shoulders.

You smiled, wide and triumphant. You’d finally broke him.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he gruffed, staring deep into your eyes to make sure you were alright with this. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. From your gleeful expression, Miguel could see that you were just the opposite.

“Oka—mmph!”

His lips slanted over yours, warm and rough, yet cold and soft at the same time. It was a kiss of starkly juxtaposing contrasts, heavy with months and months of unspoken yearning. His large nose brushed against your cheek, angling his face to kiss you harder—deeper.

When one of your hands slithered up the back of his neck to tug at the roots of his dark hair, he sighed against your mouth, breaking the kiss to lean his forehead over yours.

“He was right,” said Miguel.

“Who was?”

“Peter. I do have feelings for you.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth, nudging your nose against his sharp cheekbone. “Really? I would’ve never guessed.” He surged forward to kiss you again, relishing in the way you just about melted into his touch. “If it wasn’t obvious already, I really like you, too.”

At your admission, Miguel beamed, loose and hesitant. “You still planning on asking Ben out to dinner and having him stay over at your place, then?”

You tapped a finger onto your chin, pretending to have a good, long think about it. “Give me a good reason to stay, and I won’t.” At Miguel’s slightly crestfallen expression, you patted his cheek, quick to say, “God, Miguel, I was just kidding. Ben and I are good friends. You and I, however… I wouldn’t exactly call you a friend—”

His lips met yours again, stealing the rest of your words from you.

When you smiled into the kiss, he smiled back. It was a bit too early for love, sure, but Miguel already knew he was in too deep to back out.

He was falling in love with you.

The thought terrified him to no end, but he merely kissed you harder, and clutched you all the closer to him.

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diejager · 9 months

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Bittersweet Devotion pt.2

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Cw: angst, heartbreak, mention of cheating, mention of death, no happy ending, apology, tell me if I missed any. wc: 9.3k

Your universe, Earth-XXX, was a parallel one to Earth-616 in some sense. You had a Peter Parker, a Gwen Stacy and a Mary Jane Watson, it had everything down to the death of Ben Parker and the devastation it brought to your friend. It was the same year as Spider-Man 616’s world, it had the same political standing and same history. Your world, like many others, was a near carbon copy of 616, down to the smallest things; but like others in the spiderverse, you had differences. Some were minor changes in the course of its canon story, others were major changes in the characters and the era.

You - like Miguel, Miles, Jess, Hobart (he liked going by Hobie), Patrick and Patriv - were one of those major deviations in the original canon. You didn’t exist - or so you thought - in Peter B. or Peter’s universe even though you lived in the same year. The reason might be that in the reality, the sum of all potential universes that paralleled each other, created the multiverse - the Spiderverse.

The concept of it seemed strangely unlimited, the infinite possibilities to a different ending or a different start for its world. The multiverse was, in some sense, as old as time, a culmination of everything made imaginable by man. Found in ancient texts - the Puranas, ancient Hindu mythology - that expressed the infinite number of universes with their gods and principles. Whereas Persian literature - tales - touched the idea of learning about alternate universes that were similar, yet distinctly different from theirs.

Misconstrued by many, the strangeness of it was deemed a danger, the unknown possibilities were feared by people of older age, but venerated in the past as it was in the present for the unfathomable possibilities. It exists in fiction, where they borrowed the idea of many worlds within a reality from myths, legends and religion. Heaven, Hell, Olympus and Valhalla were all reflections of a familiar world, a material realm for the blessed, the sinful, the gods, and the worthy. The similarities sometimes frightened you, how close the people were to knowing of the reality you all lived in. The tangibility of crossing worlds and bringing about chaos to every string, every realm, every material form of the multiverse.

They, after all, were real, Hell as much as Heaven in your universe. Gods from every religion, either monotheistic or polytheistic, some you’d personally seen are Thor and Loki, brother and sons of Odin the Allfather, and the God of Thunder and Mischief respectively. Another was a big crocodile lady, Ammit, from what you’d heard from the all-knowing Dr. Strange. From God to Norse and Egyptian gods, from angels and demons, and from humans to mutants, your plane of existence was as wide as it could go without drifting off the edge and causing a mass domino effect within the multiverse.

You were curious, naturally so for a scientist, exploring the worlds that felt familiar to you but you hadn’t truly grasped - different, yet similar. You hadn’t given a second thought to exploring yours. After all, why explore yours when your horizon was as broad as you imagined it, unperturbed by any limits when it came to the multiverse? The eternal and unlimited growing number of realms in your expanding reality.

Perhaps that was the reason why you hadn’t known your universe had its own Miguel O’Hara. You rarely came back for anything, you had everything you’ve ever wanted in Nueva York, Earth-928. You have friends who could truly understand you, people who stood beside you when you fought, youngsters who looked up to you for mentoring and a dream- or it was a dream. Dreams, not dissimilar to wishes, were hopeful, naive in a way, they came and went. Some dreams would come true, while others fell, like the fallen stars that crossed the night sky.

Yours simply happened to be a fallen one, one not meant to happen and become greater. You let it go after he dropped you, after he turned his back and let his mouth run unperturbed. He brought her up, someone he swore he would remember but left in the past. A new chance to become something, to become whole again, and Miguel took it. He wanted to start anew, fresh with someone he never met, you wanted the same; you both had what you wished for, until he put his foot down, cutting the thin web that connected both your lives.

It broke your heart. Months of patience and anxiously stepping around each other, nervous about breaking the trust freshly built between you both, lost in a few weeks. You were brittle, heart fractured and threatening to fall further apart if someone was any crueller to you. The smallest glare, the tiniest scoff or the weakest remark would send you reeling into the abyss of heartbreak and the throes of anguish. Yet somehow, you found yourself being led away by a copy of the Miguel you loved.

He mumbled apologies as he held you tightly, his arm over your shoulder as he cradled you under his umbrella, hastily urging you to follow his guidance. If it were any other person, you would’ve been wary, cautious of any strangers that touched you so closely and chaperoned you so quickly; but this was Miguel, a man you trusted and that you still trusted wherever he came from. Earth-XXX’s Miguel O’Hara was still similar to the one you knew, someone you could trust. You did.

He led you to his flat, someplace near Alchemax’s building in Manhattan, a safe neighbourhood for the richer citizens of Manhattan. A cozy place of neutral tones and muted colours, yet warm as he welcomed you - a stranger as of yet - into his home. He had machinery strewn around, reports stacked on his coffee table and smaller things he had been tinkering about decorating his home. As a geneticist, he liked to play with machinery, having drawn his designs and models, built his creations from scratch and worked from the base programming to make something better. At least Miguel from Earth-928 did, and it seemed this one did as well.

You stood in his shower, where he left you in a frenzy to bring you dry clothes, drying out your hair with the towel he motioned you to use. You doubted that he had anything your size, his broad shoulders and his towering height, nothing he had in his draws - and the boxes he stowed away in his closet - would fit you. They would drag down your ankle and sit low on your collar. Granted, you were soaked down to your socks and had no temporary clothes to cover yourself with during your stay.

You had stripped from your soaked clothes and patted down your wet skin, shivering from the cold that clung to your bones even after Miguel had increased the heater in the small confines of the bathroom. It was small but big enough to move around and stretch your arms comfortably. You hadn’t felt the cold until he brought you to his bathroom, the numbness of the past months weighing heavily on your shoulders and the bleeding of your heart made everything seem so meaningless. The colours draining from the world around you, a once bright New York turned grey, the monochrome tones of black and white mixing and interlacing to form even more boring shades.

The vibrancy and life you once saw around you dulled and died suddenly, like the winters brought by Demeter’s devastation and sadness when her daughter was taken from her, stolen from the berth of flowers she liked frolicking about. How Demeter doomed the world to see her pain, to feel how she felt in the moments her daughter had to return to her husband than stay with Demeter. You felt laden by your faults and his actions. Doubtful of your relationship, of what led you both to such an ending. Had you been clearer or more forthcoming about your emotions, or had you confronted him for his behaviour, would you still be in his arms?

Were you at fault for missing something you had relied on as comfort and safety? Could you be blamed for his reaction to your meddling in his affairs in the Society? Could you blame him for dropping those words on you? After all, being reminded or compared to a past lover was anything but gentle, the gut-wrenching envy and betrayal you felt flash through you was nearly drowning. It made you feel lacking, to be reminded of his old flame, the one he was about to marry and the person he seemed to love before all. Could you even compare to what she was; what she did? (Dina had cheated on him, you knew that, but he was truly happy in their moments of pleasure and domesticity. They were a family until she died.)

You were drowning in your self-made sorrow when his voice called you, grounding you to the room. Standing before a door, naked and shivering, arms wrapping the damp towel around your shoulders. He called again, cracking the door open to pass you the - his - clothes he thought would fit you. He coughed as you took your temporary wear, your cool fingers brushing his warm ones. It was a sudden and jerking contact, you pulled back jerkingly, a shamble of an apology and a thank you flew from your tongue. His chuckle was a reassurance in the complete quietness of the flat, his low voice reminding you of better times.

The sweater hung loosely around you, dipping down your collar to expose your shoulder. It was warm, the cotton used to make it still soft after being stored away and the soothing scent of spice and pine deeply integrated into the fibres. The pants were stretched around your hips, the tight fabric thin and flexible under stress, hidden under the long shirt. The legs, however, swayed loosely around your limbs, too big for your calves, but tight enough to hug your thighs. He had certainly made sure to bring you clothes that would fit your frame. You hadn’t attempted to smell his pants, you thought it would’ve been too intrusive and disgusting to do so if only to smell a remnant of Miguel on his as you did on the sweater.

Miguel was waiting for you in the kitchen, his back turned to you as you ambled towards him. His shoulders loose and back relaxed in the presence of a stranger made you appreciate how good-natured he was in most universes you’d been to. He turned his head, gesturing you to sit on the chair facing him on the island as he returned to something he was making while you changed.

“I hope you don’t mind hot chocolate,” he started, voice light and hopeful as he turned to you, cup in each hand as he moved to stare at you. “I’m not one for tea.” He slid the warm mug into your hand, eyes watching your expression as he slowly sipped on the hot beverage.

His eyes squinted slightly when your lips curled upwards, a smile hidden by the steaming mug. You cupped the mug, feeling the warmth of the freshly brewed drink, the steam rising in soft curls and melting in the cooler atmosphere. Tentatively, you brought the rim to your lips, slowly tilting the cup. The powerful taste of chocolate hit you strongly, the sweet and dark liquid melting the tension in your muscles until you could curl over the table with an appreciative sigh.

“Thank you…” you knew his name, wanting to call him, but his reaction would be unwanted, the shock, fear and suspicion that would fill his beautiful, brown eyes. So you slurred your words, dragging out your voice until he could tell you his name himself.

“Miguel. Miguel O’Hara, ” he nodded, cocking his head upwards, pointing at you with his chin. “What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you Hey every time I want to call you.” His lips broke into a cheeky smile, teasing you when he saw that you’d comfortably melted into the drink and his island chair. He wanted to ease the tense atmosphere from before into something much calmer, to help the accumulated tension in your shoulders to fall like the rain that clouded the streets of New York.

You let out a hoarse chuckle, your throat still fresh from crying, and told him your name, trying to stabilise your shaking tone. His cheeky smirk tugged at your heartstrings, you hadn’t seen Miguel laugh or smile this freely in months. You missed it. The casual banter you shared and the on-and-off insults you’d hurl at one another, all good-natured insults meant to rile him.

“Thank you, Miguel,” you nearly choked when you uttered his name, the wound still so fresh and bleeding it slip from your tongue easily. It brought up so many memories, both painful and joyful. Your eyes glazed over, tears threatening to fall once again, to paint your cheeks with agony that you - him, or perhaps both of you - had brought on yourself. “Thank you…”

Miguel hummed sympathetically, eyes staring down at his drink, deep in thought. Perhaps he was thinking of a way to invite you to share your problems, to tell him why you broke down on the street in stormy weather. Or maybe he was thinking of the fastest way to kick you out, to get rid of the mess you became. The silence, however, was reassuring, calming the nerves that followed the eerie calmness of Miguel’s den or the loud, hectic atmosphere of the Society. His warm, worrying gaze grounded you, the softness behind his concerned stare was heartwarmingly nostalgic.

“Difficult breakup?” His words seemed hesitant, unsure of his conclusion to the cause of your appearance. Unknowingly, he had struck gold, pinning down the right problem in your life with a few observations. Of course, he was observant and aware of his surroundings, why else was he so willing to bring you into his home?

“How’d ya know?”

His sigh was telling, the deep, concerned and tired breath was only used when he knew that you wouldn’t tell him what ailed you, like the groan of a disappointed, yet worried father.

“Because I know how it feels,” he says slowly, pensive over his words, picking them carefully to not damage you further than your ex had. He knew the pain of a harsh breakup, the pain and sorrow that followed, like a dark cloud that hovered over you whenever you were awake.

“Why?” You croaked.

“Why?” he parroted, frowning at your question.

“Why did you invite me in? I’m a- a stranger to you, you don’t even know me. What if I’d been acting to mug you or potentially kill and steal from you? What’d you do then, Miguel?”

“I know the risks, but you didn’t, didn’t you? And wouldn’t, you don’t look like the person to harm another.”

You scoffed at his words. Didn’t and wouldn’t didn’t mean you would not do it later after gaining his trust, to stab him in the back after he helped you and nursed you. The simple, naïve idea that you didn’t look like a violent person was mind-blowing, it was stupid. How could he know if you didn’t mean harm later on? Like how Miguel never meant to harm you - he loved you - and yet in the end, he had.

“That’s naïve,” you muttered, eyes closed as you drank the cooling beverage, the sugary drink trickling down your throat.

“I’m confident in my ability to read people.”

He did seem confident in his ability, the straight back and the strong gaze in his eyes showed; and, maybe because you knew from experience that Miguel was observant and careful, he hadn’t gotten where he was by simply trusting people and following the herd. He tested and made mistakes, he learned from them each time and found a way to use it to his advantage. The Miguel you saw in every universe was similar in some ways, their good nature, their cunningness, their bravery and their intelligence. All aspects known to characterize Miguel O’Hara in all universes he existed in.

You conceded to his will, head bowed and shoulders slack. You breathed shallowly, swallowing the lump in your throat:

“Yeah, what gave it away?”

You thought it would be the last of him you’d see in your life, you wished it wouldn’t, that you’d see him over and over, to feel what the Miguel from your universe had to give, but you knew it was wishful thinking, a wish thrown to the stars. Logically, he had no reason to call or text you after exchanging numbers days prior. He promised to call you, and he made you promise to call him if anything ever resurfaced, be it pain, anger, heartbreak or hate. You, instinctively, believed his word.

You hated yourself for falling so easily to another Miguel, how you bent to his words and the sweet promises he uttered that night. There was no sign that he would keep his word, that he would see you again after your breakdown, except for his words and your belief in him. Then it wasn’t misplaced, all the trust and belief you had, since he called you, asking to meet up at a cafe. Miguel had set up a place and time for you when you replied with a croak, still feeling down. He had whispered reassuring words to you, urging you to meet him - he explicitly told you he’d feel offended to be stood up - and spend some time outside. The air was fresh and cool for an autumnal month, it wasn’t too cold that you were forced to wear a thick jacket, but it wasn’t warm enough for you to go out in a simple shirt.

You were hesitant to take him up on his offer, knowing how easily you could rebound. You’d crash into Miguel’s open arms, searching for the love and affection he fed you like a lovesick puppy, but, then again, Earth-XXX’s Miguel was similar, yet different from his variant. It would be a lie if you told yourself you didn’t miss him, the soft smiles, the gentle touches and the affectionate words. You had spent so much time as his right-hand Spider that it felt odd not seeing him the following morning. It was a routine you’d formed: waking up in his bed, kissing him good morning, getting to work together and eating together. Everything you’d done in the past years was with Miguel from Earth-928 the routine, the rigidity, it was grounding, it was the only semblance of normalcy in the world you lived in.

Now, you had to face the possibility that you were too broken to see another Miguel, to hold a casual conversation and form coherent and normal sentences. The purposefully slow steps you took to the cafe picked after having a moment outside the glass front were telling in itself. You swallowed the little amount of saliva in your throat to soothe its dryness and walked through the doors of the quaint establishment. It was painted in calm, brown tones, rustic in design with a warmth that rivalled the comfort of your bed. It lifted a bit of the tension you had, shoulders slumping slightly as your eyes searched for a familiar mop of brown hair.

Laying against the brown sofa, he stared out of the wide window from his booth. The warm, morning lights caressed his cheeks, lighting up the sharp edges of his jaw and nose. He was sculpted in perfection, like the youthful beauty of Adonis, crafted with the meticulous and attention-catching hands of an artist that created what was thought to be a god’s beauty. You could spend your days watching him, catching every little detail of Miguel’s face under the changing lighting, but you were standing near the entrance and he was waiting for you. His words echoed in your mind: “Don’t forget about next week, I miss seeing you.”

His eyes flickered to you, blinking as he turned to you, flashing a smile. You returned the sentiment, a shaky smile lifting the corners of your lips. You sat across from him, eyes wandering the cafe to stare at anything but him, lest you wouldn’t be able to stop the rush of emotions that would light your face in a flush. He uttered your name, greeting you in a friendly manner. You nodded back, muttering his name, pushing down the wince whenever you said it.

“Chocolate.”

The still-warm cup stared at you, light steam wafting over the reflective liquid. It was full, unlike Miguel’s cup, and drank down to the middle of the container.

“Thank you.”

He probably wouldn’t let you repay him for the hot chocolate he bought you, the smile he gave you told you as much when your eyes flickered between his and your cup. The hot chocolate was a reminder of your night in his flat, where he lent you his shoulder to cry and his ears to listen. Embarrassment seemed to flash whenever you recalled the memory, how vulnerable you were to him, your walls broken down and your heart open. Though, Miguel didn’t seem to mind your fragility, giving you as much time as you needed.

“How are you? I wanted to give you a few days to think before meeting again, I thought you might’ve needed the time alone.”

You nodded lamely, fingers curling around the warm porcelain, back slumped into the booth to hide from his knowing eyes. He was right, you had needed the time alone to clean yourself up, scour through your memories and tend to whatever mess you made of yourself. You were thankful. The last few days had brought revelations, how - both of - you had ignored the signs of a rupture in the relationship and continued to push on, like crossing a crumbling bridge.

“‘M doing better. How- and how are you?”

He smiled at your attempt, you were trying on your own after a few - forced - encouraging words from Miguel. Maybe you’d learn to live with the pain, coexisting with the numbness that filled you until it dulled to a point where it would be barely acknowledged by you or anyone in your vicinity - where it wasn’t painted on your face with bright colours. Or the pursuit to forget it, pushing it into the farthest corner of your mind and heart, painting over the crack with glue. As long as you wouldn’t drown in your sorrows, ending up playing with dangerous substances to stay afloat while your mind sunk deeper into addiction and denial.

He wouldn’t let you get that far, Miguel understood you and he lived through it as you did. Although his was a more violent breakup - she had cheated on him, his explosive reaction was natural - than yours, he hadn’t relied on anything but self-meditation and a lot of thinking. Like a friend - you were one by his standards, he’d invited you to his flat, you’d seen his organized chaos and ranted about your life while he comforted you with his shoulder and a cup of hot chocolate - he would stay by your side, hoping his support would be enough to help you.

“Great so far.”

His grin - somehow - grew even larger, enthusiasm gleaming in his eyes.

Oftentimes, Miguel would be the one to call you, your phone ringing in the afternoon of the day prior with his soothing voice on the other end of the line. He spoke easily, finding the time to invite you out for the simplest reason, to talk, to make a drink, to have fun, and - your favourite by far - to see you. His initiative had you trying to double your efforts to heal, reaching outside of your boundaries and texting Miguel whenever you had a moment to yourself. You felt guilty that he was always the one to plan these outings, so you promised yourself that you’d become a better friend than you currently were. You even remembered his teasing tone when you called him for the first time:

”Aye, finally. I thought you’d never call me, chica. I felt neglected, thought you had forgotten about me for a second there.”

It started with the first coffee date, bickering about who would pay, pushing your card before the other while still seated at your table, frowning stubbornly and throwing promises about letting the other pay next time. Either way, Miguel rarely let you pay, coming atop as the winner of your little fight with his strength and height (you couldn’t exactly put all your force into your push, it could break bone and bruise the skin.).

Then it would be random meetings on the streets that would lead you to a random bench at the park, basking in the other’s presence, retelling your day and him nitpicking anything he could with a ridiculously criticising frown. He was playing, you knew he was. You did the same after you’d gotten more comfortable talking to him, it became easier to see him as a different - as his own - person. A few hits on the shoulder left and right, but it was mostly laughter at ridiculous expressions made to emphasize your disdain for a certain event.

The months that followed were a blur to you. Rather than going to a cafe or the park, you went to restaurants and crashed at one of your flats, yours if he wanted to play games and lounge about with food and drinks, and his if you wanted to watch movies (he had the best television you’d ever seen, such high definition and speed.) and tinker away at his inventions and theories. He was certainly happy that his new friend was another scholar in the field of genes and engineering (you were mostly into engineering than genes, but you knew a few things that you’d found interesting.). You could both gush - scientifically - about the possibility of gene splicing and lab-generated mutations in humans, like the mutant superheroes.

You’d taken some liberties and went drinking, meeting at the same bar biweekly to relax after a few hard days at work. It served to loosen your nerves until either of you felt comfortable to chat up a storm about the most random subject. It’d been about the odd dent on the rim of his glass; then it’d be about how the sky was grey this week, there weren’t any warm, yellow rays blaring down on you when you went out; or it’d be about the distasteful cut of a man’s moustache. Drinking loosened your tongues, some words were said and some sentiments were shared, but none were truly taken seriously knowing you were tipsy - nearing drunk - those nights.

Every time you saw Miguel, you felt like you were rediscovering a part of yourself as well as him, the thing that made him so distinct and loveable. Miguel was expressive and honest, he slowly and gently let you down from whatever high you were, the pillar you needed to stand again after falling. He was so much different. It used to pain you how much they looked alike, but character-wise, they were like the two sides of a coin. It made you appreciate the delicate intricacies that made the multiverse.

You won’t - can’t - deny that you’ve grown fond of this Miguel as you did with the other one, but you couldn’t let yourself love him. He didn’t deserve someone broken and hashed into many lives: the masks you wore, the things you did, the secrets you hid, and the things you could do. He didn’t deserve someone who could bring him to his death; dying simply because he was connected to Spider-Woman; beaten simply because he knew Spider-Woman; kidnapped simply because they deemed him useful as leverage. All things that could go wrong haunt you. Miguel was human, he wasn’t a Spider, he wasn’t a superhero, and he wasn’t a vigilante. He was Miguel O’Hara, the geneticist working at Alchemax, with a brilliant mind and a kind heart.

You cherished every part of him. That’s why you can’t let your heart lead, dedicate how you’d react to Miguel after the months you spent together. He was so close, yet so far; he was touchable, you could hold him, kiss him and hug him, but he was unattainable, you couldn’t tell him how much you loved him. You watched him with hidden love, showing your affection as platonic, a friend watching another. You had hardened yourself to your heart’s cries, for loving Miguel was a dangerous game-

“I- what?” you gawked at Miguel, wide eyes and mouth agape. You were shocked at the words that left his mouth, his soft, wet lips moving as he repeated the words.

“I love you.”

His cheeks were flushed, burning a soft red, it trailed to his ears and nape. His open collar - his jacket hung on the back of his chair and his shirt clung below his collar, a skin-tight shirt that hugged his sculpted chest sinfully, it hid little to the seeing eyes of the crowd and your drunk self. His sudden words had all but sobered you, shaking you into clear lucidity of his confession.

“You… love me?”

He blinked dumbly at you for a second, as if taking the time to absorb what he told you and what you repeated. Miguel was tipsy, not drunk. He smiled and nodded, a bashfully affectionate grin on his beautiful lips.

“Yes, is it so hard to believe, chica?”

He often called you chica, you thought it was a friendly term of endearment between friends (truthfully and regretfully, you knew little of Spanish, even with being in a committed relationship with an Irish-Mexican.). You just realised it was his pet name for you. All this time, he had given you his heart, and yet, you had denied him of yours. He was more playful and less burdened by life, it made him more teasing and smiling. The term chica somewhat made sense, a cuter and more playful way of calling someone you loved than the deep-meaning ones like mi cielo and mi vida, a play of words like a small secret between you. This secret hid behind names given between friends, a well-kept one, close to his chest but gifted to you.

It might’ve once been - started - as friends, but it grew and festered in his heart until he found the time to express himself, to tell you how he truly felt for you - how he grew to care for you. He deemed this moment fine, bordering tipsy and nearing drunk, he’d be open, brutally honest but still aware of the words that left him. He wasn’t a lightweight anyway.

You wanted to tell him you also loved him, but you couldn’t do it, mouth slightly open and eyes glazed with heartbreak, you simply stared at him in hesitancy. You opened your mouth once to reply and closed it, open and close, again and again until all you could do was stare at him. How were you supposed to answer him after the bomb he dropped?

”Yes! I love you too!”

”Oh, Miguel, I love you too.”

”I- I love you as well.”

There were so many ways to express your feelings to the man who confessed, but none seemed to convey the true emotions that lay in your heart. You wanted to tell him you learned to love again thanks to him, that the time spent with him had made you open your eyes to the beauty that you were blinded by the pain and you slowly grew to care for - love - him as much as you did with Spider-Man 2099. He had the same smile, the same mind, the same heart, but he was more innocent, less burdened by disaster and happier.

So you simply nodded. It made his smirk grow.

“Aye- would it be better if I called you ‘mi tesoro’ instead? It’s more straightforward, no?”

Even now, his words were light and playful, his tone affectionate as he leaned closer to you. You could see the mischievous glint in his warm, chocolate eyes (you thought that was why he liked serving you hot chocolate, it reminded you of his eyes.) and the curve of his lips as they moved to form words. You were transfixed by his beauty, mesmerised by the comforting hues and the sharpness of his cheeks, missing how close he was to you.

“Or maybe-”

Softness caressed your lips, a plush, warm feeling that made you flush. He was kissing you, those pretty lips on yours. Your breath stuttered and you froze, but it didn’t stop Miguel’s initiative, a hand cradled your nape, holding you in place as he pushed himself closer to you. He moved against you, tongue slipping from his mouth and tentatively laving over your bottom lip, asking for something.

He was so warm, so caring. You could just close your eyes and follow his lead - you did. He pushed harder, yet the kiss stayed soft and passionate, he lightly nipped your lip and soothed the stinging with his warm tongue, beckoning you to open your mouth for him. Your lips parted, opening up for Miguel to dive in, muscle meeting yours halfway and curling over yours. He still cradled your head, fingers running through your loose hair and tilting your head backwards, giving him more space to show you how much he loved you. Your arms, somehow, found themselves wrapped around his neck, pulling him as close to you as he was pushing himself against you.

His kiss was loving, his hold was careful and his touch heartwarming. You almost regretted having to pull away, but you had to breathe, your lungs starving for air after having been devoured by Miguel’s adoring kiss. The moment you opened your eyes (you didn’t know you had closed them while you kissed), his smile greeted you, a lovesick one bubbling with unending joy. You almost choked from how it fit so well on him.

“That’s- that’s one way…” you spoke between breaths, chest swelling with every erratic pant, matching his similarly worn-out breathing.

That was all he needed from you. Your kiss was enough for him to know you loved him the same, a patient and gentle love he was willing to give you. Your heart pulsed strongly, lips curving and eyes squinting, you pushed yourself closer to his heat, his all-encompassing warmth that wrapped around you when you wanted to feel safe and loved. Your world couldn’t be any brighter, like the vibrant colours of blooming flowers when Persephone was given to her mother, where the snow melted and colours washed over the lands once more, painting the blank white and dead grey in joyous tones. It glowed brightly and warmed you like the summers that followed the melting ice, the clear, blue skies of Olympus and as freeing as the soaring hawks and skipping elks.

Letting go was far harder than loving. To let the person who you let in leave felt emptying, it left a gaping hole in his heart. Where it was once calm, struck a raging storm of rejection and regret, crashing waves the size of Poseidon’s rage and violent storms the strength of Zeus’ retribution. It hurt watching you walk beside a variant of himself, a happier and lighter version of him without his mutations or duty. You were the Spider-Woman of your universe so there wouldn’t be a second one unless there was a catastrophic canon divergence.

He hadn’t followed you at first, respecting your wishes of being left alone. He had to give you that much, at least, after those months spent beside his ignorant ass. He hadn’t seen it until it was too late, lost under the weight of his duty and fears that he’d forgotten he had people who cared, who felt, who loved. It was too late, it was always too late with him. If he couldn’t fix his first mistake, who’s to say he could fix this? He couldn’t save his first daughter or his second’s universe because it was falling apart. He couldn’t save anyone because he hadn’t realised his mistake in interfering in canon events, and he lost you because he couldn’t stop his vitriol, his violent temperament that had pushed you away. He always took things for granted until they were lost to him.

Was it two or three weeks before he decided to check up on you? He didn’t know anymore, the weeks blurred until he finally amassed the courage to go against everyone’s words. Through the flat hologram of his orange screen, he watched you lament on your own, body curled into itself and shoulders shaking. Your sobs were heart-wrenching to watch while he had no means of contacting you; you would’ve reacted more strongly and aggressively if he’d contacted you after leaving.

So he watched.

You stared vacantly from your window and left only for the bare necessities or to act as Spider-Woman. Crime never slept so you couldn’t stop even in your time of need. You swung from building to building so gracefully that Miguel was hypnotised by your grace. He watched these moments as a reminder of the missions he took by your side, webbing and catching anomalies all across the multiverse with fearsome speed and accuracy. You both had made a fearsome team, but that time was over, it was a memory long forgotten.

So he watched.

Your flat was cold and empty, the space filled with spectres of memories, the cool rooms vacant of life that used to fill them with warmth and happiness. It was saddening from his perspective - the observer, the watcher and the reader of your story - of your time spent alone. He wanted to tell you that you weren’t alone, that he was watching you from afar, a silent protector that would only act if you were in imminent danger - as long as it wasn’t part of the canon.

So he watched-

Besides you was Miguel - not him, another one - and he looked much too comfortable by your side for his liking. His variant seemed much too close for a friend, moving from sitting before you to beside you, arm slung over your shoulders and leaning back and, sometimes, towards you at a breath’s distance. He turned green with envy, a vicious monster brewing inside his body with the threat of bursting out, clawing at his chest. The other was too close to you for his liking.

He watched as his variant bought you drinks - always, however long and loud you’d complained and fought, he never let you pay in the end - and paid for your dates. He abhorred it. How happy you looked with the other him. How calm and satisfied your smile was. How close his variant was to you. He wished he was at the other’s place, taking his rightful place beside you. He would kiss you, smother you in love and give you whatever you wanted, whether it be a hug, a kiss or his time, he would’ve given them to you. He wouldn’t dance around the edge of your affection and his love like he was doing, like a man unsure of his feelings and anxious to act on it.

He thought the other Miguel was a coward - though he knew he wasn’t. He wanted to blame his variant and find fault for anything he did, but they were still the same person. He was Miguel O’Hara as much as he was. He wanted, but couldn’t, especially after seeing how both loved you the same, having a similar type. They were so much alike that he could’ve replaced his variant, yet so vastly different in other manners that he would’ve stood out. His history, his trauma, his curse, the other had none of them. He was normal while he was Spider-Man, a stronger, more brutal version of Spider-Man.

Granted, he loved you with every fibre of his being, but he had never showered you with as much love and affection as the other, having his character muddled through long hours of work and long-lasting tragedy. You were another of his tragedies, where he found love again and lost it by his own making. He would have left too if the Society didn’t depend on him, leaning towards him for support and help in protecting the multiverse. It was something he couldn’t sacrifice for his whims.

So he kept watching and let his heart crack and envy fester.

He watched you grow even closer to him, shoulders and hands occasionally touching, making you jump and blush. He watched you move from simple coffee dates to full-blown restaurants and bar dates, drinking and eating at your leisure - something he could’ve never provided you. He watched you wobble around when you were drunk, your arm over his shoulder and his around your waist, supporting your drunk weight. He watched you kiss, the other pressing your bodies together and you reciprocating the loving embrace you had once given to him.

He felt like crying. He was crying, silent tears rolling down his sharp cheeks in slow, thundering waves of his heartbreak. He clung to the desk, claws unintentionally popping out and bending the metal under his fist. The sound ripped through the silent room like the image that ripped through his heart. He was alone in his grief, shoulders slumping and arms shaking with the intensity of his emotions. He had locked the door, barricading it with a busy, do not disturb sign, warning the others that he was occupied and wouldn’t be reached unless there was an emergency.

“Miguel…”

He’d forgotten Lyla was here - she was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, with your help he had given Lyla an upgrade in her system that gave her access to every Spider that had the watch. She had access to every file in the database and his secrets. Lyla was loyal to him as much as she was to you, respecting your words with a promise of her own to leave you alone. That, however, didn’t mean that she wasn’t privy to his pains, watching him while his eyes were stuck to your universe’s screen, giving him some comforting words that were meant to lift his spirit. It never worked but the intention was there.

He couldn’t look at her, still facing the hologram of you kissing. He felt the surge of too many emotions to be able to think clearly, his self-control tethering on a thin line of fragile web. If he turned, he would explode on Lyla, giving her the brunt of his suffering even though she didn’t deserve it, she felt and laughed as much as any other human. He remembered programming in emotion with you, laughing about how much she would be as teasing and annoying as you. Lyla was another gift to him by you, so it would hurt him more.

“Miguel-”

“Don’t- Do not say another word.”

For a man in tears and pain, his voice was curt and stoic, playing the leading figure he’d taken for so long. It betrayed his shaky figure, fingers crushing the metal loudly and shoulders jerking with ever-wrenching choked sob. His world was crumbling around him, rippling and cracking from the seams and folding into itself. The control of his state was failing miserably as he kept staring at your mirthful smile after the kiss. It tore him apart knowing he pushed you further away and into the arms of another. It hurt him deeply.

Through everything, he heard Lyla whisper a small sorry before she popped out of existence, her small holographic body vanishing along with her orange light. Gone was her familiar light, gone was the nostalgic memory of programming her, and along her, was the support of another person. He was truly alone in this moment, to fall on his knees and let himself drown under the weight of everything.

If your love was a tangible thing, he would’ve cradled it between his warm palms, holding it tightly to his chest to feel the soothing effects you had on him. Like a balm to burns, you cooled the searing pains that the world inflicted upon him, the warm blanket that covered him when he needed rest and the pillar that held him when he fell. He’d lost something he couldn’t gain a second time, clutching his head in his misery, drowning and howling.

It felt surreal until it wasn’t until it all sunk in. He truly couldn’t grasp the utter loss and betrayal he felt. The realisation that he truly lost you to none other than himself. The irony of it all slashed deeper, how he drove you closer to another him by his own doing, making you love a Miguel with more gentleness, more kindness and time than him, Miguel O’Hara, the Spider-Man from Nueva York, Earth-928. Everything he had was lost in time, his spiralling thoughts of loss and misery clouded his vision, bringing tears forward in bigger waves.

Was he doomed to lose everything he cared about? Was he bound to love and lose? Why couldn’t he have a happy ending like everyone else? Was it because he was different? Perhaps it was, there were other O’Hara Spider-Man, but none were mutated like him, a product of self-infliction and sabotage - none had their DNA spliced and mixed with a spider’s. He was simply too different from the others, they were lean but still had a strong musculature, muscles tightened to create more strength and defence; none were big and broad as he was, with rough edges and mean streaks. They were nice and happy, faced losses of their own, but always came out on top (there were some minor - sometimes major - variants of Spider-Man here and there, but they all had some similarities in their stories of becoming.). He saw the devastation and grasped onto the thinnest silver lining he could find, holding onto it to stay afloat while others thrived where they were.

Maybe it was truly because of him. He was realistic - near cynic - he couldn’t see things optimistically, life had made him that way. The silver lining he saw in things was small, nearly extinguished by his near-pessimistic way of life. Did that have an impact as well? It most likely did, at least partly. Fate had given him a bad hand in things, he couldn’t be completely blamed for how things turned - or so he thought, hoped. A man wasn’t only the result of what he’d done, but also of what he was given. When push comes to shove, Miguel acted in a way he thought meant well for him and the others even if it didn’t seem like the right decision at first. He rarely doubted his actions while he did them, only after, could he let himself face the consequences of what he’d done. Miguel simply didn’t have the pleasure of waiting. He needed to act when it was called.

If he had waited, if he had been patient and sought out others for support, if he had spent time thinking before acting, would he still have his little girl beside him? Would he still have you in his arms? If he had shown you more affection, would you have still loved him?

Did you still love him?

Miguel didn’t know what he was doing. Standing before your apartment door in civilian clothing and a bouquet of twelve, beautiful white tulips - the meaning not lost to him. It was an attempt at apologizing for his mistakes, a desperate one led by heartache. He brushed his hair back, trying to look as kept as he could in his situation: dark bags and sickly skin, tense muscles and sore back. This was a daring move from him, it would end up catastrophic if the Miguel from your universe saw him at your front door; but he checked, making sure his variant was elsewhere before opening a portal to your place.

He hadn’t moved in a while, listening to you move around your flat, the sound of your soft steps shuffling from behind the door, a wall between you and him, reminding him that he wouldn’t be able to cross it unless you welcomed him. He held the bouquet in one hand and knocked with the other, his knuckles hitting the wood softly and hesitantly. There was a pause between every knock, drawn by his nerves and the anxiety that gripped him.

You moved and closed in on the sound at the door. He saw your shadow dance under the small gap on the floor and pause. You knew. You knew it was him even without peeking through the peephole, your spider-sense aiding you in recognizing the unknown. Although your hand rested reluctantly at the knob - perhaps still too raw from your break as he was - you opened the door for him, figure small and apprehensive.

“Miguel,” you muttered his name, greeting him with a slow nod. You stepped back and opened the door wider for him, he took it as a good sign that you let him in rather than shut the door in his face.

He nodded back, saying your name. He took a step forward, foot breaking the barrier to your flat. The second one ensured he was fully invited, both feet strongly rooted on your side of the door. He wanted to make himself smaller, to appease you, but he knew you wouldn’t have liked that. He squirmed under your stare, a mix of curiosity and concern.

He nearly sighed audibly when you gestured at him to sit and he moved to the sofa he remembered sleeping on with you, cuddling under a warm blanket while you watched a movie. He knew your home by heart like you knew his, the memory washed over him with melancholy. You sat on the armchair to his left, your back to the kitchen. He swallowed thickly and handed you the bouquet, freshly cut tulips glistening with pearly drops under your lights.

Your shoulders shook as you leaned in to take the bouquet, jolting back when your fingers grazed him. Feeling your skin felt invigorating, it breathed back life into him, even slightly. You thanked him with a slow nod, seemingly unsure of what to make of it. Was it a gift? Was it an apology? Was it a farewell sign? He figured your mind was running in circles trying to understand the meaning of the pretty bouquet he handed you. You were always an overthinker, but your mind worked brutally well. That’s something he always appreciated about you.

“I-” Miguel started, seemingly stopped by something that he couldn’t get out of his throat. Maybe a ball of dread or needles of anxiety, but it held him from giving you the words he spent nights thinking over, to give you the message he built from the deepest crevice of his heart. “I’m sorry, (Name).”

You stared at him, understanding that he needed a moment of silence to truly convey his feelings. You hadn’t uttered a word since he first started, expression neutral, not betraying whatever brewing storm you locked inside of you. He was grateful, truly.

“I know- I know it doesn’t mean much now, but I’m really, really sorry, mi vida.”

He sensed you tense, the muscles of your back contracting and rippling under your shirt. Every unseen fibre moving was bare to him, he could see and feel better than most, if not, everyone else.

“I acted out of anger and lack of sleep, but that doesn’t mean you deserved that- never. I just, my mutation makes me more animalistic, more… aggressive than the other, and I hurt you. You didn’t deserve any of that and I can’t always blame it on my mutations. I should’ve been able to control myself. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you in those ways.”

He lowered his gaze to his hands, the calloused pads of his fingers rubbing his palm, trying to coax himself into relaxation. Although your breathing softened, a calm breeze in an atmosphere thick with tension, he didn’t dare look up and see the face you were making.

“I was a bad boyfriend and a horrible friend. I’m- I’m not asking you to forgive me, I don’t want you to forgive me, but- I just needed to tell you how much I regret hurting you. I want to apologise, I don’t know what else to do, I don’t know how to fix this.” He breathed deeply, collecting every ounce of confidence and honesty to brave your reaction. “I’m sorry, mi cielo.”

He shuddered, body rippling with his pained breath. He hadn’t realised how painful it would be to face you with his fears and confession, with the threat of abandonment and rejection fresh in his mind. He was a man of pride and strength, rarely facing anything with trepidation and hesitance.

“I’m really sorry, mi cielo. I’m so, so sorry.”

He sat in silence, letting it hang over him like the blade of a guillotine, silent and brunt. Perceiving the flash of the sharp blade before it fell on his neck, sentencing him to a quick downfall with a long, lasting agony that would sting his neck as long as it would hurt his heart. The French used it for executions, the thing that spelled people’s end. At its height, it was used as an apparatus to behead traitors or people who were deemed dangerous to the people of the new republic. Down the blame went and off the head popped, like it would happen to Miguel if he wasn’t prepared for it. He truly didn’t know whether he had prepared for his rejection, for the death of his heart, to watch the flickering sparks of his flame wither out.

“I’m sorry too, Miguel-”

The rope strained, knots twisting and rippling in the tightness of the pull. It shook, whipping in the air as it straightened completely, held closely by the hand of the executioner. The wind blew but it was sturdy, withstanding the violent gales that slammed against the body of it.

“-it means a lot that you came here to apologise- ”

The crowd was filled with silence, the emptiness of the area a mock of a ghost town. Abandoned to be sentenced to death without anyone to witness. They deemed him not fit for their acknowledgment before his death, before the sparks of his life extinguished. His fate wasn’t worth their time, unlike the poorest criminals who stole for money, unlike the richest pigs who fed from the poor with their silver spoons and golden crowns, unlike the cruellest killers who gutted and left men, women and children to bleed out, and unlike the guiltless innocents cursed for something they hadn’t committed.

“-but, I can’t.”

The rope was let loose, its tail flying and whipping in the air as the blade descended with its weight. The wood chafed against its support beams, yet it flew gracefully and rapidly, singing the doom of its prisoner. The blade gleamed under the moon’s bright light, the silver whispers of peace and sleep deaf to his ears.

“I can’t love you anymore.”

It cracked down on him, his life flashing before him as it cut into him. Severing his control over his body, putting out the dying embers of hope. He clung to desperation in his last moments, wishing to relive the moments of happiness, bright oblivion and cherished love.

He wished that he could’ve seen your shadowed figure hidden in the darkness, tears lining your cheeks as you watched him take his last breath. The only person who came to see him leave, the one who he would’ve burned the world for. In the end, after everything he’d done, you still gave him a small moment of your time to witness his fall, you deemed him worthy of such an act. You offered him your kindness.

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moonstruckme · 7 months

Note

congrats!!!! how about fade into you with tasm!peter and touch starved!reader, in an established relationship???

Thanks honey!!

join the party

tasm!Peter Parker x touch starved!reader ♡ 960 words

When Peter gets home, you’re in another long, hot shower. With no one to witness how pathetic it looks, you’ve taken to sitting on the floor, letting the scalding water wash over your back and drip from your lashes. Your skin will be pinkish and puffy when you get out, but it won’t matter; you’ve got nothing to do other than wrap yourself in blankets and sit on the bed for the rest of the night.

When Peter’s voice comes, it sounds muffled, faraway, but you snap to attention nonetheless.

“Sweetheart?” A faint knocking. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” you say without hesitation, scrambling up and shutting off the water.

“Shit, it’s steamy in here,” he says as the door opens. “Want me to pass you a towel?”

“That’s alright.” You grab the towel you’ve hung by the shower, hastily scrubbing yourself dry and wrapping it around you.

Peter’s hands are on either side of the face the second you turn around, pushing your wet hair out of the way so he can kiss you properly. It’s a sweet, brief thing, and your chest aches slightly when he pulls back.

“Ouch, babe.” His hands feel cool as they move down to your shoulders. You shiver pleasantly. “Your skin’s burning hot. How long were you in there?”

You really should get another towel to stop your hair from dripping all over the floor, but you can’t stand to move away from Peter’s touch. “I was bored,” you reply, “and the hot water is nice.”

“Seems like it was more than just hot,” he murmurs, grabbing the other towel as if he’s heard your thought and beginning to squeeze the moisture from your hair. “Sorry I was gone so long. I never know how these things are gonna go, you know?”

“I know.” Peter had been attending a weekend conference on some scientist’s new research at a university in Chicago. He was supposed to be back days ago, but apparently he saw some fishy things while he was there that Spiderman felt an obligation to investigate. “Did you find the mutants?”

Peter shrugs, taking you by the shoulders to walk you into the bedroom. The air feels shockingly cold outside of the bathroom, but the warmth of his touch is enough to keep you from minding. “Sorta. It was a group of guys pretending to be mutants. Projectors and stuff combined with actual explosives to make it look like superpowered attacks.” He sits you down and begins digging through drawers, tossing you a pair of sweatpants and one of his shirts. “It was super sophisticated, had to take a ton of planning. Honestly, if they weren’t, like, bad guys, I would’ve been really impressed.”

You shrug the shirt on. “Sounds like you were impressed anyway, honey.”

“Well.” Peter makes a sheepish face. “Just because they’re assholes doesn’t mean they’re not smart assholes, right?”

“Right.” You say, standing to get the sweatpants on. You don’t know where to go from here, feeling oddly hollow but with no good reason. Peter’s here; your loneliness should be vanquished. You hold your elbows awkwardly. “So, how was the conference?”

“Baby.” Peter sounds almost disappointed, and hurt hooks its claws in your gut before you can even figure what you’ve done. “Why’re you all the way over there, huh? You haven’t even asked for a hug yet. Is something wrong?”

You hadn’t realized you were so predictable, but it is a bit odd for you not to tackle him the second he comes through the door. “I don’t think so,” you say, and Peter’s brows twitch together at your uncertain tone. “I just really missed you, Pete.”

He makes a pained, sympathetic sound, opening his arms and stepping toward you. “C’mere, sweetheart.”

And apparently that’s the permission your body was looking for. You meet him in the middle, his arms coming up slow and firm around your shoulder blades. Your chest aches again, but this time it’s almost pleasant, though you feel suddenly like you could cry. Peter seems to know, one arm tightening across both your shoulders while the other hand begins stroking up and down your back.

“Did you have a bad week?” he asks softly, breath tickling your ear.

“No,” you reply honestly. “I think…I think I just needed this.”

Peter gives you a squeeze in response, and you tighten your grip too.

“Let’s just do this forever,” you say, only half joking. “Think you could come to work with me tomorrow to hold my hand all day?”

Peter doesn’t seem willing to roll with your lightness. “Nobody else hugs you when I’m not around, do they?” he asks, and when you don’t respond, he pulls back slightly, taking your face in his hand. “Do they, sweetheart?”

“No,” you say, and you’re not sure why it feels like an admittance. You’re not touchy with your friends, and your coworkers aren’t close like that. When else would you have the opportunity for hugs?

“No wonder you get so lonely when I’m gone.” Peter’s voice is fraught with tenderness, and he pulls you close again, petting your damp hair. “I’ll hold you as long as you like, babe, but after that, we should look into getting you a cat or something.”

“A cat?” You twitch in his hold, perking up hopefully. “I thought your landlord didn’t let you have pets.”

“He doesn’t, but he also doesn’t have to know,” he says easily. “If it’ll keep you from getting sad like this while I’m away, a cat is a small price to pay. Gotta keep my girl happy, you know?”

“I think,” you counter, “that we should get a cat and you should never leave again.”

Peter chuckles, kissing the top of your head lightly. “Deal.”

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huicitawrites · 10 months

Text

The Hunt

Yandere! Miguel O’Hara x Fem! Spider! Reader

tw: yandere (slow-burn(?)), dark-fic, violence, assault, spoilers for across the spider-verse.

word count: 6,1 k

status: in revision

Prev chapter

taglist: @zeniiin @aikoiya @caramelcandescence @adamsloverboy @slowlymax @reapersimps @jenniferdixon05207 @superduckmilkshake @ceeesxy-blog @wotterblue

Part II

“Stay still and let me squash you like the spider you are!"

"I think I'll pass on that one, thanks" you retorted as you moved out of yet another attack which could have pierced through you. You were jumping around, feet and arms in sync as you balanced your body to dodge the snapping metal claws.

The flow of your body conveyed an effortless image, but the fight was far from over. As hard as it was to admit, you were having a tough time figuring it out.

"Be wary of those, (Y/n)"

"Yep"

The foe before you was good at maintaining his distance and using the range of the metal limbs to his advantage. The claws snapped any web you shot at him and easily dodged and covered from your attacks as well. This metal exoskeleton he had was really bothering you- whereas you were used to the fleshy feeling of the mutant tentacles of the mad bio-engineering scientist you knew, this self-proclaimed Otto Octavius’ tentacles were purely made of metal. And it was quite metal, because your fist hurt like hell when you came into contact with it despite your super-strength. In addition, the metal exoskeleton was purely coordinated with his movements. They were calculated and clean, unlike the brash and wild nature of 'your' Doc Ock. [Thank God this copycat came in with a discount, it would have been worse if you had to deal with eight metal octopi-limbs.]

In the battle's agitation, something odd occurred. Just when you thought it could not get any weirder, his frame shook violently, and he fell to the ground in a flash of strange colors and shapes. His voice quivered, his shout of pain came out distorted and chopped.

"What the-? Peter, is he...?"

"Glitching?” he said with doubt, “but how..." immediately, he began to tap away on the keyboard.

You did not want to waste your time observing the phenomenon, instead deeming this man dangerous, you took the opportunity to confine him in your webs. The webs surrounded his torso and tied extra-tight around the metal limbs.

The glitching stopped and you neared him.

"So… Otto Octavius, right? Mind telling me more about Spider-Man?" You asked, but there was no answer. His head was hanging, and his shoulders were too lax, he seemed unconscious.

"Um, sir?" You closed the distance between you and touched him briefly. "Sir? Other Dock Ock?" You continued, and just as you were about to check if he was breathing, something cool clamped down on your wrist.

Immediately you redirected your sight and saw a metal claw on your wrist, it was viciously gripping you. Then you heard laughing, making you turn your attention at a now perfectly conscious man with scraps of web around him on the floor.

"Ah, shit". In cue with the curse that left your lips, you were thrown at full force against the building. Your head impacted first and your body slumped to the ground, a loud ringing sounded off in your ears, and your sight turned terribly foggy.

You groaned in pain and attempted to get up, but the metal limb got to you first and lifted you off the ground once more. It pulled you near as you thrashed. To escape from the vice grip, you focused the muscles of your arm and began to open apart the metal claw. The metal screeched and folded, yet your efforts dwindled when another claw came at you.

This time, it wrapped itself around your throat, cutting the airflow into your system. He hoisted you up to admire your writhing form.

"I just love killing spiders," he grinned wickedly, "after this, Peter Parker is next".

The mention of your friend sent the adrenaline in your body rushing and your heart strained against your chest. Your body was urging you to move, muscles tightening to contract and exert force- but your eyes began to fail you. Your vision slowly turned opaque due to the lack of oxygen.

A final metal claw appeared, and you vaguely made out a glimmering edge at the center of it- a sharp blade.

"Die."

You heard the words laced with venom and your friend frankly calling out to you, his voice drowned by the fading consciousness of your body. Was this the end? Is this the way it all ends?

'C'mon girl, keep it up!'

Just when the point-end of the blade was about to pierce you, an orange glow painted the scene. An engine roared— the blade never came.

You were dropped on the ground unceremoniously when the vice grip let go of you. Lips parted for a large gasp for that sweet, sweet air. Still, its sudden intrusion made you cough, and as your back shook furiously you felt a soothing sensation on it. Somebody was rubbing your back.

"You alright?" Another masculine voice, but this time, it was friendly and caring. There were no traces of animosity in it.

Even before your sight could clear, your spider-sense was running. It was running even more wild than before, and when you opened your eyes to see your savior, you were left astonished.

Your spider-sense tingled and evened out, synchronizing up with another spider-sense.

This man was just like you.

The web-patterned mask, his lenses, the arachnid symbol on his chest. It was all too familiar.

"You...are me?"

"No, and yes. I mean, no, I am not you, but I am like you." He hoisted you up by the elbow and put you on your feet. "Anyway, explanations later, now we have to deal with this guy and put him back in his dimension."

"In his dimension? What-"

"Explanations later", a female voice interrupted and reiterated. You glanced at the direction of the voice and your spider-sense picked up the same feeling.

It was a woman with big, dense curly hair, in a stylish leather tracksuit with a matching headband, and she rode on a motorcycle. She did not wear a mask, revealing part of her brown skin, but she had large, yellow-tinted sunglasses in a shape and proportion you knew all too well.

The woman flashed you a sweet smile, showing her gapped-pearly whites.

"Now, let's kick ass" and she roared the engine once more and rode straight at Octavius. She crashed the vehicle into him, pushing him back, and stood up on it. As she balanced her weight forwards on the vehicle, she reached out her hand- five web strings much like your own sprouted from the pads of her fingers. She brought the villain flush against the tire of the running motorbike, and he clutched his face in pain. The man who patted you followed suit, and he too shot web, although out from his wrist, and launched himself against him. He delivered a couple of blows, punches, and kicks, as he used his 'web-shooter' -you guessed- to propel back and forth.

You just stood there, eyes wide and lenses as big as round plates.

"Peter, are you seeing this?"

"Yes, and I'm already coming up with some theories" you heard the fast-clicking sound of a keypad going on. "I can't have anything for sure and it's not like I can track back to any tabs on these guys... The best thing I can produce is for you to stick around and find out, but do not lower your guard"

"I guess so" you said, simply taking in and accepting what was going on as you took speed and jumped, your legs pulling back and your arms stretching at a sharp angle behind your back.

Your body flew, and you looked down to see Octavius struggling to stand up as the two new heroes faced him.

Octavius stood up on all metal fours and he growled in rage, "Spider-Man!" his sights now focused on the blue and red hero.

"You might want to look behind you, Doc"

The smirk of the lady on the motorcycle and the cheekiness of the disguised man said it all. The dark silhouette of a shadow cast upon him was growing bigger, and Doc Ock turned his head.

Your wrists extended and web shot from both. The silk rope attached itself to the upper shoulders of the metal limbs and you grasped the webs to pull yourself. With the help of force and acceleration, you delivered a powerful kick on the man’s back.

Your attack was not meaningless, for your aim was set on the bright spot at the top near his nape. The power source, the connection of the exoskeleton with Octavius’ nervous system.

A few sparks blew off, signaling your success in delivering the final blow. Well, that, and how the tentacles trembled before collapsing- dropping the mad man on the ground.

“You!” he whipped his head, “You little- “his words were cut short by web sticking on his lips, sealing them shut.

“Not a word more from you, please. I kinda had enough,” you exasperated and slumped your shoulders. Your hand rubbed on your head, a little bit of pain still lingering on the impacted area.

You were about to web him up, this time making sure he would stay put, but the curly-haired woman halted you with her hand. With the other, she slid a disk across the floor which stopped in front of Octavius. Then, laser-like hexagons formed, one by one until the villain was encased fully.

“Oh, well that’s nice. What is that?”

“A portable prison we use to capture anomalies.”

“Anomalies?”

“People that stray from their original dimensions and pose a threat to the cannon.”

“The cannon?” 'Geez, keeping up with this new information is hard'. Amid your confusion, the woman laughed. She was not laughing out in mockery, more like she had found your confusion endearing.

She stretched out her hand for you to shake it, and hesitantly you did.

“I am Jessica Drew, Spider-Woman, Earth-404.”

“And I’m Peter B. Parker, the one and only Spiderman from Earth-616B” The man took off his mask, showing excited eyes and a warm smile as he stretched out his hand. The physical resemblance he had to your best friend was uncanny, well, he was him from another dimension, of course. The brown eyes and hazelnut hair, but he was much taller, certainly older and you could distinguish the outline of worked muscles below his spandex suit.

“(Y/n), this is unbelievable...” but you ignored your friend through the comms as you were just as surprised as him, or even more.

“Spider-Woman, I mean, (Y/n) (L/n), Earth…

“Earth-699” Peter B Parker filled in for you, and you repeated his words, taking them in your mind.

“Wait, wait… So, you are Spider-Women,” you glanced at Peter B. Parker, “Spider…people… sorry, from other dimensions?” you asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much it,” and Jessica Drew hummed in approval of Peter B’s words.

“And, and you! I know you! Well, I know you in this world. He’s my best friend, and my back-up” the other Peter chuckled.

“Ooh, the classic back-at-the-chair guy?” his eyebrow twitched in curiosity. “Feels like a demotion though…”

“Hey!"

You giggled at his antics, "Trust me, you are very cool in this dimension too. Without him, I would not be Spider-Woman". Your warm smile and noble words caught the brown eyes of Jessica, and for a moment, she stared right at your own not long after her and the other Peter -you will call him Peter. B- shared silent eye contact which spoke volumes between them. Then they both smiled, and Jessica Drew giggled, "This one is yours; I have already recruited a lot. Miguel will bite my head off if I bring in one more"

"Right, right, you just want to make me be the one to ask him"

Confused about what they were talking about and who, you were about to ask them before Peter B spoke first.

"So, we like you- my spider-sense can already tell me you are an amazing hero, (Y/n). Do you want to join us? And the rest of Spiders, a spider-society of our own if you are interested."

People just like you? Your heart began to beat fast with joy and excitement, this, this was amazing. If there is a whole society of other people, of other You's, Peter B's, and Jessica's, with their own hero journeys, spider-suits, spider-abilities, and voices to be heard- you wanted all in.

"I'm in!" you exclaimed, physically jumping at the opportunity. The afro spider-woman hopped back on her motorbike, you saw her fiddle with a bracelet on her wrist, a slick white-metal watch of sorts, and the same orange glow from before emerged. This time, you took a closer look- it was a portal, a hexagonal electric-orange portal made of rings.

Peter B. hopped on behind Jessica, and he looked back behind at you and beckoned you closer with his hand, patting the space left on the leather seat. You smiled wide below the mask and rushed your feet to the vehicle, hopping on.

"You know it's almost two in the morning and we have work tomorrow, right?" Your Peter's voice sounded. You groaned, "Yes, don't wait for me. Also, didn't take my keys so leave the window open please"

"Again? Girl, I-" but Peter heard the roaring of an engine and the sound of screeching tires before the loud beep signaling the end of the intercommunication device and he cursed under his breath. He shut down the three-screen PC and kicked his feet to distance the chair from the desk, drawing a large sigh from his lips. He stood up, revealing his pajama set and house coat, and very fluffy set of Spider-Woman slippers you had gifted him jokingly, [wearing unofficial merch of your vigilante best-friend was weirdly hilarious, but they were too comfortable and soft to pass]. He walked toward the living rooms' window, thank God you two were on the seventh floor, and pulled off the lock.

"One of these days I swear I will lock her out, so she begins taking her goddamn keys", he grunted in between teeth. He dragged the palm of his hand down his features, squeezing down his cheeks and wrinkling them. He glanced at the dreadful hour, led bright numbers making out 1:50 AM.

'As long as I get in bed before two...' Despite the petty annoyance this occurrence caused, he could not help but crack a smile.

He looked out the window and observed the city lights, contemplating the night.

You were incredible to Peter, your best friend. Sometimes he wished NYC were more grateful for the protection your courageous and self-risking services lent. Although he was aware they were out of your heart.

Peter took a long, loud sip of his mug of tea. It was halfway cold. As he drank and emptied the contents of his cup, Peter wondered.

"Who is going to protect you when you are too busy protecting others, (Y/n)", his worrisome thoughts were vocalized. Part of why Peter helped you back to the chair was because of this because he was worried about you. Of course, it felt nice and gratifying to put his own grains of sand in the jar of NYC's safety, protecting citizens and loved ones alike, but deep-down Peter felt powerless.

What if one day someone manages to best you, or you mess with the worst of people? Someone you will not be able to defeat, someone like you? The possibilities, the enemies, could be endless. After what tonight's events revealed the existence stirred something within him, call it his Parker-Sense [turns out there is a Peter Parker who is a Spider-Man as well in another universe- he will have to ask you more about it, tomorrow.].

He placed the cup down on the coffee table beside the heater, casting aside his worries along it. Peter knew he could do nothing but help from back of the front lines- he could only hope the gadgets and suits he designed for you would help you in your quest and help you make it back home every night.

You raised your arms as if you were on the best rollercoaster ride in the world whilst you travelled through the fabric of time and space. It was fast and short, but breathtaking. There was not enough time to process what you had just experienced as you crossed through a flash of light.

As the flash dispersed, you noticed your surroundings. You found yourself inside a big, big building. Although the design was minimalistic, and the color grey was dominating, you made out figures of diverse colors.

Not figures, people.

And not regular people, people like you- spider people.

Hundreds of them, walking, chatting, hanging around. On the floor, on the ceiling, on the walls, all around the unorganized columns that stretched everywhere in every direction.

Your spider-sense had already caught up with the gig, because your mind has surprisingly not fallen apart.

"Welcome to HQ, this is the lobby" Peter B. announced.

A simple 'woah' was all you could muster as your lenses widened. Jessica hopped off her motorbike and stored it in a pocket-size gadget, somehow but it does not surprise you, and she tapped on your wrist. She handed you a purple bracelet, "It's a one-day pass, it allows you to stay here without glitching. You may have seen it happen to that stray Doc Ock".

‘So, he was glitching, huh.’

You hung the bracelet around your wrist and secured it tight, you guessed glitching was not very comfortable and you did not really want to find out for yourself. Once you put it on, she smiled and turned on her heels, gesturing to you with her head to follow her.

"We got to go girl, can't keep Miguel waiting."

"Miguel?" you enquired.

"Miguel O' Hara" Peter B answered for her as he began to walk beside you "the man behind this society. This-", he twirled around and raised his hands in contemplation as the three of you walked, "-was all his idea. He is the leader, it's thanks to him that we are all able to protect and maintain every dimension stable".

'Well, he sounds like a cool guy- I should probably meet him if I'm around here, want to make a good first impression’

"He can also come off as intimidating and harsh, but he's got no bite. He just has a little bit of fang to show, no more. So don't be scared or feel intimidated".

'Or not', you gulped.

Something about the sweet tone in Peter B’s voice, like he had given this disclaimer a couple of times before, slightly unsettled you- but you hid your nervousness behind a small chuckle.

As Jessica lead the way, or Jess as she insisted you call her, you 'toured' the facilities- a cafeteria with spider-themed food, a gym fit for training the super-strengthen, a villain-confinement area in which you found yourself mesmerized by the different versions of villains you had faced [which was a slightly awkward experience as you tried to ignore the daggers that were coming out from that Doc Ock's eyes and threatened to destroy the barrier that imprisoned him]. You even got to know of a therapy room, which could always come in handy later, who knows. You must make sure to swing by the cafeteria later and try out that Spider-Burger, and certainly try out the super/human equipment in the training center [it is not your usual friendly-neighborhood gym that has a leg press machine loaded with the weight of a train].

It was crazy- Peter B. and Jess told you everything about this place. They talked about the multiverse, and how everyone is connected through key moments in their lives as 'Spiders' through cannon events- which were more or less significant events that would shape their paths as heroes, some good, some bad, and some very bad- but all of them necessary.

The death of your parents. Although you would never get over it, and the belief that you could have done something if you hadn’t been so powerless at that time was still rooted deep within your heart- but the fact that it was destined to happen as part of your life as Spider-Woman brought you some relief, because you felt as if it was not entirely your fault alone. They were cannon events in your life as Spider-Woman, and nothing was supposed to prevent them.

It was bittersweet- it made you feel understood. Even though you had your own best friend who you could rely on, and you knew you could tell him everything, you also knew he would not understand. There is a great responsibility that comes with this power, and with its burdens, and inner battles that make you feel alone in the struggle, but not anymore.

You are not alone, you are not the one and only Spider-Woman, and that made you feel you could find other people to bare this struggle with.

The 'Spider' Peter continued with the explanation, "-- and that's why anomalies are so dangerous, and we have to deal with them, because they can break the cannon and thus destroy the fabric of the dimension that has been disturbed, and with it, millions of lives."

In cue with the end of his talk, Jess and Peter B. halted their steps. "We're here" she said and pointed with her gaze to move forward. So, you did, you took a step forward.

Your eyes took in the room, it was dark, and the ceiling was tall. There was a platform in the middle of it, and the orange light was abundant. Atop the platform was a man standing, his wide back facing and disheveled strands of hair facing you- he seemed busy, and too concentrated on the dozens of holographic screens surrounding him.

There was a loud silence in the room, until Jess nudged Peter B with her elbow, and he blurted, "Okay, okay, lemme’ just" he adjusted the collar of his suit, as if it were too tight on him. He breathed in, calming down his nerves, which made you more nervous because why would he be?

"Hey! Miguel!" his voice echoed through the room, and he waved eagerly at the man above. It was a slight movement, but you noticed how this 'Miguel' threw his head back and sighed loudly- it was clear that he was annoyed by the interruption.

"Que ganas de molestar... What is it?!" The first part of his sentence was barely audible, but he made sure to raise his voice for the words that came out in English. His body was now facing the three of you, hands rested on his hips, and body weight slumped on his right leg.

From that height, he seemed as if he was looking down on you...

"Give me a minute, (Y/n), you see he looks tough, but he is really easy to crack" Peter B attempted to reassure you, earning a roll of the eyes of Jess which you barely dismissed, and he webbed a corner of the platform and pulled himself up to it.

Peter B's physical gestures were funny and full of movement, while the man remained stiff and stoic. You could not hear the conversation well, they were meters above you, but you guessed they were talking about you--

"C'mon Miguel, she's amazing really, we could use a helping hand and-"

"There's lots of helping hands already"

"Yes, but the more the merrier right? I am serious, you're not going to regret it, I've seen her, and Jess too"

Their talk continued for a few minutes, but then you saw Peter B clinging on to the man's shoulder and you saw him turn his head, mouthing the words 'all right.'

Proving your guess to be true, you saw Peter B smile widely and he walked towards the edge of the platform, "Y/N! Climb up here!" He called out to you and gestured with his hand, and you did just as he did a few minutes ago. Before you could pull yourself, however, Jess tugged lightly at your mask.

"You should probably take that off, you don't want to be rude in your first day before the boss, right?" she chuckled. "You're right," you nodded and proceeded with her advice. Your fingers slid under the mask and hooked at its hem, you tugged upwards. Your (h/c) strands cascaded down and bounced on your shoulders, and you revealed a curious set of (e/c) eyes and (s/c) skin.

Jess ran her hands through your hair, quickly fixing it- after being pressed down by the mask it had a little bit of frizz to it, "You're looking great, now go get that job girl" and she turned you around by the shoulders and patted your back in support.

You smiled and blushed, a little bit of confidence surging within you, you were nervous.

[His gaze, something about it, it made you uncomfortable. You did not think much of it, putting the blame on the towering height the platform provided.]

You twisted your fist around the web, and swung yourself and pulled down with strength, propelling yourself upwards. You made sure to land with grace on the platform, you really wanted to land yourself that good first impression.

"Here she is," Peter B dragged on the sound of the vowels, as if presenting some grand entrance, he walked behind you and placed his hands on your shoulders. Quickly, Peter B hunched and whispered encouraging words in your ear-

"You'll do great," he said softly against your ear. You offered a small smile and walked out of his hold, facing the man before you two.

'Well, damn' you said loudly in your mind. If when you were below this man seemed intimidating, now up close, it was ten times more so. He had a big build, broad shoulders and clear, lined brick muscles under his cyber-punk blue and red suit. His forearms left his hips and were flexed below his broad chest, highlighting the muscles in his arms even more. You looked up to his face and gulped.

He had a chiseled, handsome, tanned face- his jaw was sharp and so was his wide nose, his cheekbones were high and his eyebrows thick and straight, giving him a mature look. Your guess was that he was somewhere in his 30's, and by the look in his fierce yet tired eyes evinced by the bags under them, you guessed he had also gone through a lot (not like you will pry about it now, that seemed like a death wish for sure).

Were you staring for too long? You did not notice, at least not until the man before you grunted and shot raised his eyebrows, tilting his face to the side as if granting you the permission to speak.

You also heard Peter B. cough, not so casually.

"Uhm, hi! I," you smiled widely, only to earn a slight judgmental look from him, 'oh my god, this is going to be harder than it looks.' To recover from that small awkward moment, you offered you hand to shake it and rephrased, "Hello, I'm (Y/n) (L/n) and I'm Spider-Woman from Earth-699, or so I've been told."

You recomposed your breath and stance, shoulders and back straightened, trying to come off as confident and polite. "I met Peter B. Parker and Jessica Drew on my night patrol, and it was quite a surprise, but a nice one. They told me everything about this place, and about the multiverse," unbeknownst to you, the glint in your eyes as your excitement began to slip past the professional facade caught his eyes, "and let me tell you I would be more than glad to join the team, it would be an amazing opportunity, and a responsibility I would be more than glad to take over".

Miguel could tell you were not lying, albeit he could tell you were nervous and a bit fidgety, but your tongue rolled not honeyed words, but ones that were sincere. He genuinely appreciated that.

Your hand was still outstretched when he called out for his trusted A.I, "Lyla", and with simply calling out her name, it appeared.

A tiny orange holograph of a person appeared right before you, at the edge of your nose to be precise, like a playful fairy. She wore an oversize coat and fashionable boots, and distinctive pink heart-shaped glasses.

"Hello!" She greeted, and you were slightly caught off guard. You were about to greet back, but she vanished, and reappeared on your shoulder, and then again, and she reappeared on your other shoulder, and again- this time above you. Your sight tried to follow her, but to no avail as she vanished and materialized, yet you did catch a glimpse of these round devices she had with her which bathed you, in yet again, orange light.

"Scanning complete!" she announced and appeared for a final time on Miguel's shoulder. "Let's see... Indeed, from Earth-699, and with an excellent track record of ten years! Her cannon remains intact, and if you ask me, she seems to be an excellent candidate."

"Oh, thanks...?" You were not sure what to say, how could she know all that? It was a heck of an artificial intelligence, nothing you had witnessed back at home, even with Pete's genius, and she even winked at you. She was sentient, that was mind blowing.

Whatever Lyla, as you recalled, showed Miguel seemed to be some sort of CV. He was looking through a holographic tab, and you managed to see a few mirrored images of you and your New York, recognizing frames and scenes from your life and the people you had come across. As he scrolled down through the screen, he kept taking glances at you, as if corroborating the information, while you just stood there with a bright smile and relaxed features in your face- although you were panicking on the inside.

The tanned man closed the tab and redirected his gaze on you, his dark eyes piercing right through yours, but his features relaxed and he even offered a small smile.

"My name is Miguel O' Hara," a smooth, Spanish accent evident on his first name, "and I'm this universe's Spiderman, Earth-2099." He stretched out his own hand, offering it to you and you shook it- his grip was strong and secure, and his hand enclosed over your smaller one.

He retrieved his hand, but he kept it open, his palm facing up while he showed it to you. A bracelet began to materialize on it. After a few seconds, the materializing process was complete, and you noticed the same device Peter B. and Jess had on their wrists.

"It's a travelling gizmo, used for hopping to other dimensions without glitching" the A.I filled in. You took it carefully from Miguel's hands, and with the same manner, you slid it on your wrist- it was a perfect fit.

After the click sound, you admired it for a few seconds before Miguel spoke again, "You are part of the club now."

His features fell back to a strict, but calm, look on his face, and he continued, "You'll be called for missions through the gizmo, nothing for today but be sure to answer on time. I do not like it when people are late for work", he said harshly, and you nodded.

"See, I told you it would work out!" the 'professional' atmosphere was cut short by Peter B, who seemed excited as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders. "She won't disappoint Miguel, I'm sure of it." He said as he smiled at Miguel, and you noticed how his features fell flat upon Peter B, however you could not help a giggle escape from your lips.

"Yes, I'll make sure of that", you looked at Peter and smiled, and repeated the same affection with Miguel, who widened his eyes but recomposed quickly, covering for any slip-ups.

"Well if everything is settled then, I'll be leaving." Peter B. patted your shoulders simultaneously "I have a little girl and a beautiful wife waiting for me, back home." The words that came out of the Spider' Peter made your eyes widen and your mouth dropped open,

"You are married?! And have a child?!"

"Yes, they are the most wonderful people on Earth!" he said giddily, then he quirked his eyebrows and put his hands on his hips, he sounded quizzical "Why do you sound so surprised though?"

"No, no, I'm just very curious- as you are the other version of my best friend. So, who's the lucky girl?" you enquired, still not believing it.

"Mary Jane, I don't know if you know her in your dimension," he said with a warm tone in his voice, you could tell by the way he spoke about her that he was really in love with her. Of course, you knew Mary Jane, or MJ as you called her. She was a close friend of yours, and Pete, and the main subject of your teasing against him. In your dimension, Peter is so in love with MJ but has yet to gather the courage to face her and take her out on a date.

You laughed, "My Peter would be blushing mad right now. He has yet to take her out on a date and make his move", your words made Peter B remember of the past, and he chuckled.

"Any advice I could relay to him? I want to be the best wingman there is"

"Just tell him to be himself, it'll work out. Ooh, but be sure to tell him he must be on time when he arranges any dates! It will save him a lot of trouble!"

"I'll make sure to tell him", you giggled. Then Peter B proceeded to take out his cellphone and show you pictures of his baby daughter, MJ. You could not help but gush alongside him, she was adorable, with her funny faces, the pictures of her playing around and in little outfits, and as she was doing little mischiefs [you swore right there and then that when the time comes, you would be the coolest auntie ever]

You continued to fangirl over the baby photos until Miguel O'Hara interrupted the both of you, "It's getting late, the both of you. "

His face said it all- the poker face, and flat lips, he looked tired. Hence you bid farewell, Lyla sat on your shoulder as she helped you with the interface of the gizmo. You managed to open a portal back to your home dimension and bid the corresponding farewells before jumping back home.

"So, I get that you did like her?"

Miguel grunted, "Como sea, el tiempo lo dira. Go home Peter, I can't stand you any longer".

Seeing that Miguel was already switching back to his grumpy humor, Peter B raised his hands in the air. "Geez, Miguel, cut me some slack" and turned around, not before making a portal to his own dimension. With his hands still raised in the air, he teased, "You'll end up scaring the new recruit" and jumped back into the portal before he could face an even grumpier Miguel.

"Ese insufrible hijo de-"

"He's kinda right though"

"Lyla!"

"See? Geez, you're going to get even more wrinkles..."

The A.I vanished out of Miguel's clawed swipe, and sticked out her tongue in mockery as the man growled.

Surprisingly, instead of landing on the hard concrete floor, you landed on the soft surface of what you recognized to be your own bed, and you made a mental note to remind yourself to thank Lyla.

"Ah, right, the window", you recalled you had told Pete to leave it open, so you went out to the living room and put on its lock. The living room was dark, it had the faint glow of NYC's night. It was a pleasant surprise for you thought you would be arriving at dawn, but it was not the case- you would get more sleep.

"Five hours of sleep are still better than one" you mumbled and retrieved the used mug left on the coffee table, which you then rinsed in the sink- a small favor for your guy in the chair.

At last, you took off your suit and after doing your nightly bathroom routine, you plopped on the bed. Sleep caught up with you quickly, it had been a busy and long night- you only hoped you would listen to your alarm in the morning and be able to get to work.

You shifted in your bed and cuddled into your pillow, your lips parted and let own a drowsy yawn, "I'll have to tell everything to Pete tomorrow" and with that, you closed your eyes.

Although tired and sleepy, you could not help the fuzzy feeling in your chest- you were so happy for what was to come, hoping for the best. You could not wait to be back at headquarters, but you guess, it will have to wait until tomorrow in the least. For now, you would have to settle for some hours of sleep.

A/n: EVERYONE THANK YOU SO MUCH! Part I is about to reach 2k notes and I can't believe I now have 1k followers, truly, thank you so much. Thank you to all the people that have reblogged and commented, I can't express how thankful I am truly. I also want to apologize for the delay, I had a hard writer's block as regards Miguel's introduction, I wanted it to be perfect, and it still not is. I also wanted to give reader a good backbone for the story. Anyway, Part III follows suit and with it the yandere! (yes! finally- I know people can get impatient for it bc it happens to me too). Anyways, I hope you like this part, and I am looking forward for your opinions!

Translations: (Btw, I am Argentinean, not Mexican, so I do speak castellano or spanish, but not mexican-slang spanish. I hope my Mexican readers are cool with the way Miguel speaks!) "Que ganas de molestar..." = So bothersome/ so annoying, or literally 'such need to bother' "Como sea, el tiempo lo dira." = Anyway/Anyhow, time will tell. "Ese insufrible hijo de-" = That insufferable son of a-

#yandere #yandere x reader #self insert #yandere blog #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #miguel o' hara x reader #yandere miguel #yandere miguel o' hara #yandere miguel x reader #yandere miguel o' hara x reader #fem reader #yandere across the spider-verse #yandere spiderman #spiderman 2099 #yandere spiderman 2099

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farfromstrange · 1 month

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‘I love you in every universe’ | Matt Murdock x F!Mutant!Reader

Main Masterlist | Read Me On AO3

MINI-SERIES.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Female Mutant Reader (she/her pronouns)

Timeline: Set during Spider-Man: No Way Home

Warnings: ANGST with no happy ending, mentions of Major Character Death, mutant powers (mind-reading/control), grief, anger, canon typical violence, the multiverse

Summary: Spider-Man killed the love of your life. He died in your arms, and that night left you alone, bitter, and seething for revenge. At least, in your universe. By the time you were ready to face Peter Parker again, your world was already on fire; you would have done just about anything to ruin him. Until one wrong step lands you in Manhattan, New York—but it is not your universe. The second you see Matt Murdock standing right in front of you alive and well, the mangled pieces of your broken heart start raining down on you like daggers, and you come to the realization that a very real version of the man you once loved exists somewhere you were never destined to be, and you won’t be able to stay.

A/n: So, I rewatched No Way Home (The Extended Version), and I got this very angst-y idea. I hope this hasn’t been done before. There won’t be a happy ending, but it has been a while since I’ve written pure angst like this, so it feels fitting. Reader—you, in this case—gets the Wanda Maximoff treatment. It’s not a fully-fleshed out series because, for the time frame this is set in, it wouldn’t make any sense. Instead, I will tell this story in 3-4 parts (depending on final word count after editing). See it as a very long One-Shot separated to make it more readable. You’re welcome.

If you want to be tagged for this, don’t hesitate to let me know!

ONE. "I Bet On Losing Dogs"

TWO.

THREE.

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock angst #angst with no happy ending #major character death #(but it’s in another universe does that count?)#spider man no way home #reader insert #charlie cox

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imagines--galore · 11 months

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||Masterlist||

Please read rules before sending requests.

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED FOR THE MOMENT.

(Always Uploading new Fics)

Avatar The Last Airbender

Pairing: Zuko x Orora

The Thread of Fate - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen, Part Seventeen, Part Eighteen

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

It Was Nothing

Theatrics

I’m Here Beside You

Big Hero 6

Pairing: Tadashi Hamada x Sakura Kamiya

Light 'em Up - Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three,

Criminal Minds

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Evelyn Richardson

Mind Over Matter - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen,

(Companion piece to Mind Over Matter)

A Slight Frustration

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Hold Me Closer

First Kiss

Don’t Go!

Crossover - Frozen x Rise of the Guardians

Pairing: Jack Frost x Elsa (Jelsa)

One Step Closer - Part One, Part Two (InProgress)

Digimon

Pairing: Taichi Yagami x Hidemi Senshi

The Next Adventure

Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood

Pairing: Alphonse Elric x Willow Hawkeye(OC)

The Ties That Bind - Prologue, Part One,

Pairing: Edward Elric x Reader

Homecoming

The Language of Flowers

Pairing: Roy Mustang x Reader

I Will Always Choose You

Harry Potter

Pairing: Severus Snape x Reader

Reluctant Friendship

Justice League DC Universe

Pairing: Superman x Lucky Penny aka Clark Kent x Penelope Pennyworth

Lucky Break

Pairing: Superman aka Clark Kent x Reader

Part One - Convince Me, Part Two - I’m Convinced

Wedding Drama

Pairing: (Platonic) Superman aka Clark Kent x 12-year-old reader

A New Life

Marvel Cinematic Universe

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Rachel

Kiss It Away

Stolen Kisses, Stolen Moments - Part One, Part Two

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Confessions

Last Night

Empowering

Distraction

Pairing: Dr. Stephen Strange x Clea

Love, A Kind of Magic - Part One, Part Two

Pairing: Dr. Stephen Strange x Reader

Bleeding Love

Perfection

A Surprising Twist

Sleep Deprived

What the Wife Says Goes

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Nothing But a Burden

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

A Pact Renewed

Because You’re Mine

Not a Waste of Space

Just Hold Me

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Never Leave Me

Pirates of the Caribbean

Pairing: Will Turner x Reader

My Heart Calls Your Name

Tavern Brawls

Rise of the Guardians

Pairing: Jack Frost x Evening Star aka The Blue Fairy

Two Spirits Meet - Wishing on a Snowflake I,

Sherlock (BBC)

Pairing: Sherlock x Reader

Serendipity

The Consulting Detective and the Serial Killer

His Love for Her

Your Hand in Mine

Drunken Comfort

Its All Been Arranged

An Unconventional Love Story (Victorian Era AU)

Star Trek(2009)

Pairing: Spock x Kealoha

The Roommate Experiment - Prologue, Part One

Pairing: Spock x Reader

The Little Green Monster

Chasing Away The Darkness

Here For You (InProgress)

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Pairing: Leonardo x Amal

Heaven’s Light

A Comforting Embrace

The Amazing Spiderman

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

A Nonverbal Confession

Falling For Him

Heal Together

Drunk on Pheromones

Take All The Time You Need

Falling for the Enemy

The Chronicles of Narnia

Pairing: Peter Pevensie x Reader

An Unexpected Turn

We Face It Together

Pairing: Edmund Pevensie x Reader

The King and the Commoner

The Hobbit

Creepy Crawlies (No Pairing)

Pairing: Kili x Reader

You Are Safe

The Lord of the Rings

Pairing: Legolas x Annúneth

Love Happens(Coming Soon)

Pairing: Legolas x Reader

We Meet Again A Confession Years In The Making

My Prayer, My Light, My Fëa

A Little Introduction to Rock Music

A Promise

Written In The Stars

Treasure Planet

Pairing: Jim Hawkins x Reader

A Little Competition Goes a Long Way

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thecrystalquill · 2 years

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Lux ~ Part Three

Peter Parker x Santana!Reader - Diablo’s Daughter

Marvel/DC crossover

A/N: It’s part three!! A little shorter than i would’ve liked but i got stuck and couldn’t figure out how to write the rest that i had in mind...

Masterlist Series Masterlist

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

Part Three ~ Paint It Black

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

The Rolling Stones blasted through her earphones, drowning out any thoughts that dared to leak through as (Y/N) walked the streets of New York. She paid no mind to people passing her, focussed solely on Mick Jagger’s voice until she finally made it to her destination. Four large windows decorated the front, Santana Studio displayed in bold red and orange on the glass. She stared for a moment, then made her way in, the bell chiming as she opened the door.

Immediately she felt at ease. It was a decent sized room, bright lights illuminated every corner, boxing posters and neon signs on the walls, and the sounds of classic rock and punching echoed around. Two women were boxing in the ring at the centre-back of the room, and a few men were using various training equipment set about. Tearing out her earphones, (Y/N) went behind the front desk to tuck her backpack under the desk, checking on a few things while she was there.

“Hey, (Y/N).”

(Y/N) looked up to be greeted by a middle-aged man in a white tank top, leaning on the counter with a bottle of water in hand. “Hey, Phil,” she replied, giving him a smile; the same one she’d been faking all day.

Phil was one of her favourite people. He was tall and muscular in appearance, his dark skin was always well moisturised, and he had the kindest eyes. He was ex-military too, a nurse at a base at the other side of the world or something, and now spent most of his days between the gym and working at local charities, usually providing medical care for people who couldn’t afford it. She couldn’t care less about the Avengers – Phil was a real hero.

“School go okay?” He asked, getting out some gauze from a shelf behind her. Phil was also one of her Dad’s only friends.

Tying back her hair, (Y/N) nodded to him. “About as okay as usual.”

Without having to ask, Phil took her hand and began wrapping the gauze tight around it, tying it safe. After both hands were given their base armour, (Y/N) grabbed her gloves and started to stretch a little, hoping to relieve some of the stress of the day. “So,” she began, removing her sweater to reveal her loose black T-shirt, “where is he?”

Phil sighed deeply, tilting his head to the far corner. There, just past the ring, was her father, beating the hell out of a heavy punching bag like he wanted to hit it through the brick wall behind. “He’s been there a while,” he said in a heavy tone, handing her a chilled water.

She gratefully accepted, putting on her gloves and securing the Velcro at the wrist.

On an average day, Chato was calm and level-headed, albeit with the melancholy tones that never went away, he was usually so peaceful; but on days like this, when that peace was so awfully shaken, he was a flurry of emotions, and no one dared approach him – except, of course, his dear daughter.

As she approached, (Y/N) could see the effect the day had had on him. Sweat dripped down his face and body, the muscles in his arms already looking over-worked, but the exhaustion allowed her to see the bare emotions he was feeling: guilt, pain, anger, and grief.

It hurt to see him like this.

“Dad,” she voiced, quickly grabbing his attention.

For a second, there was a fire in his eyes, which quickly went out as he came back in the moment. She could feel the heat radiating from him from six feet away. “(Y/N)…” he said, his voice sounding gruff and unused, “four-thirty already?”

“Yep.” She said, handing him the water as she stepped closer, giving him a hug and doing her best to ignore the moisture on his skin. She wasn’t about to ask how long he’d been punching, by her guess it was far longer than she’d like. “My turn?” She asked instead, pulling away and taking a stance in front of the bag.

Wordlessly, Chato took a hold of the bag, keeping it still – not that it would take much effort; it was a heavy piece of equipment and she was too small to cause it any damage. He watched as she swung at it, punching right and left, up and down, in a pattern she’d learnt years ago. “You get here okay?”

(Y/N) nodded as she swung again, harder this time, followed by an uppercut. “Fine. No problems.”

Conversations were sparse on days like this, when neither knew what to say, both too in their own head to communicate.

“I got an A on that assignment from last week,” she said, throwing her knee up to hit the bag, “the one on Lord of the Flies.”

“Yeah? That’s real good, Mija.” He praised, focusing on the power in her movements and stance simultaneously, commenting on her footwork.

The cake was a little small, the left half was decorated a soft orange, and the right a hazy purple; each side displaying letters in the opposite colour – Alex and Maya. Taking a lighter, (Y/N) lit the candles, one and eight. A painful reminder of the years lost.

They watched the candles melt and drip down onto the icing, sitting in heavy silence until they burnt out into nothing more than two gooey puddles. “Happy birthday.” Chato mumbled, taking the knife and cutting five slices.

“Happy birthday,” (Y/N) repeated, taking the paper plate handed to her.

The two of them sat in their small apartment, five plates of cake set around the table, three chairs empty. The sweet flavours of the cake would have been satisfying, but it only left a bitter feeling in their mouths. How could they possibly enjoy it without the people it was meant for?

(Y/N) often wondered what life would be like if that awful night never happened. Would they be going to college right now? Would she get along with them? Would their mom have been able to accept (Y/N) as a part of the family? Would (Y/N) even be around? Would her dad still be a Gotham criminal with a power complex?

She wished she knew them. She wished they were alive more than anything. She imagined how they would tease each other, get into fights, steal each other’s stuff, get into trouble, all the things siblings did. She imagined their mom, Grace, making them all dinner and treating (Y/N) like one of her own. (Y/N) remembered so little of her mother, she could only vaguely remember her face, but the photo of Chato’s deceased family was always safe in his wallet, and Grace felt more familiar in her mind than Elizabeth.

When their slices were gone and the remaining cake was thrown away, they sat on their sofa and processed. It was their annual event, cake and deep thinking, rarely disturbing the sadness in the air. Most people would ignore the feeling, try to lighten the mood – but for them, ignoring it wasn’t an option; the grief was meant to be felt.

How could they ever forget?

Tag List:

@fandom-strumpet

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@j-s-l-m

@emily2003alzaga

@slytherinroyalty16

Do you want to be tagged?

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b00inazkaban · 1 year

Text

MASTERLIST #2

Navigation!

Let me know if there are any characters you’d like added and I’ll look into it! :)

Smut = **

What I will NOT write for under any circumstance: R@pe, incest, anything to do with pee or poo, hardcore bdsm or anything like that type of smut, kidnapping reader for love, anything stalker, abuse unless it’s for angst but I won’t go into detail about the abuse (though I will do like slapping/spanking for smut it cannot have malicious meaning behind it, and there is always consent for that)

Also let me put this by itself, pregnancy is also way off the table. It’s 6 feet underground. I understand it’s part of life and it’s beautiful , and that’s for people to decide but personally I find just the concept of that horrifying and gross. I do breeding kink yes, but no description of pregnancy. (No hate to pregnant people I just can’t stand the concept of pregnancy in any form.)

MARVEL:

☆ Tony Stark

☆ Steve Rogers

☆ Bruce Banner

☆ Natasha Romanoff

☆ Clint Barton

☆ Bucky Barnes

☆ Sam Wilson

☆ Peter Parker

☆ Thor Odison

☆ Loki Laufeyson

☆ Dr. Stephen Strange

☆ Peter Quill

☆ Gamora

☆ Drax the destroyer

☆ Rocket the Racoon

☆ Mantis

☆ Groot

Poly Requests:

STRANGER THINGS:

☆ Steve Harrington: Steve Harrington x FtM reader**

☆ Robin Buckley :

☆ Nancy Wheeler:

☆ Eddie Munson:

☆ Johnathan Byers:

☆ Argyle:

☆ Billy Hargrove:

☆ Mike Wheeler: Little!Mike x GN!CG!Reader

☆ Dustin Henderson

☆ Will Byers

☆ Lucas Sinclair

☆ Eleven Hopper

☆ Max Mayfield

☆ Jim Hopper:

☆ Joyce Byers:

☆ Dmitri Antonov:

Poly Requests:

HARRY POTTER/MARAUDER:

☆ Harry Potter:

☆ Ron Weasley: CG!Ron Weasley x Little!GN!reader

☆ Hermione Granger:

☆ Fred Weasley: CG!Fred Weasley x Little!Fem!Reader

☆ George Weasley: George Weasley x reader ; CG!George Weasley x LittleMale!Reader

☆ Neville Longbottom: Sub!Neville x Dom!Reader**

☆ Draco Malfoy:

☆ Blaise Zambini:

☆ Enzo Berkshire:

☆ Mattheo Riddle:

☆ Theo Nott:

☆ Pansy Parkinson:

Marauders Era or Lighting Era:

☆ Lucius Malfoy:

☆ Narcissa Malfoy:

☆ Severus Snape:

☆ Bellatrix Lestrange:

☆ Barty Crouch Jr. :

☆ Evan Rosier:

☆ Pandora Rosier:

☆ Zahara Zambini:

☆ Regulus Black:

☆ Sirius Black:

☆ Remus Lupin:

☆ Lily Evans:

☆ Marlene McKinnon:

☆ Mary McDonald:

☆ Dorcas Meadows:

FANTASTIC BEASTS:

☆ Newt Scamander:

☆ Thesus Scammander:

☆ Jacob Kowalski:

☆ Queenie Goldstein:

☆ Albus Dumbledore (young):

☆ Gellart Grindlewald (young):

Poly Requests:

CRIMINAL MINDS:

☆Aaron Hotchner

☆ Jason Gideon

☆ Spencer Reid

☆ Derek Morgan

☆ JJ/ Jennifer Jareau

☆ Elle Greenaway

☆ Penelope Garcia

☆ Emily Prentiss

☆ David Rossi

Poly Requests:

BRIDGERTON:

☆ Anthony Bridgerton

☆ Benedict Bridgerton

☆ Colin Briderton

☆ Daphne Bridgerton

☆ Eloise Bridgerton

☆ Simon Basset

☆ Penelope Fetherington

☆ Queen Charlotte (Young)

☆ King George (Young)

Poly Requests:

Queen charlotte x reader x King George

TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES:

☆ Leonardo: NSFW alphabet

☆ Raphael:

☆ Donnatelo:

☆ Michelangelo: Mikey x Reader

☆ April O'Neil:

☆ Casey Jones:

Poly Requests:

Poly!TMNT x Fem!Reader; April 4-in-1; turtles are manspreading and you want payback 😚

Poly!TMNT x Fem!Reader; Casey tries to flirt with reader but she puts down the idea and the turtles are proud

TOP GUN:

☆ Pete Mitchell "Maverick"

☆ Bradley Bradshaw "Rooster"

☆ Jake Seresin "Hangman"

☆ Natasha Trace "Phoenix"

☆ Robert Floyd "Bob"

Poly Requests:

THE HOBBIT/LOTR:

☆ Thorin

☆ Bilbo

☆ Fili

☆ Kili

☆ Dwalin

☆ Bofur

☆ Bard

☆ Legolas

☆ Tauriel

☆ Thuranduil

Poly Requests:

TWILIGHT:

☆ Carlisle Cullen

☆ Esme Cullen

☆ Emmet Cullen

☆ Rosalie Cullen

☆ Alice Cullen

☆ Jasper Cullen: CG!Jasper Hale x nb!little!reader

☆ Edward Cullen

☆ Bella Cullen/Swan

☆ Jacob Black

☆ Garrett

The Volturi:

☆ Aro

☆ Caius

☆ Marcus

Poly Requests:

THE HUNGER GAMES:

☆ Katniss Everdeen

☆ Petta Mellark

☆ Finnick Odair

☆ Johanna Mason

☆ Haymitch Abernathy

Poly Requests:

LUCIFER:

☆ Lucifer Morningstar

☆ Mazikeen

☆ Amenadeil

☆ Chole Decker

☆ Linda Martin

Poly Requests:

How To Train Your Dragon:

☆ Hiccup Haddock

☆ Astrid Hofferson

☆ Snotlout

☆ Ruffnut

☆ Tuffnut

Poly Requests:

Across The SpiderVerse:

☆ Miles Morales

☆ Miguel O'Hara

Spider thoughts!

☆ Peter B. Parker

Spider thoughts!

☆ Hobie Brown

☆ Gwen Stacy

☆ Spider-Noir

Spider thoughts!

Poly Requests:

Descendants:

☆ Mal

☆ Evie

☆ Carlos

☆ Jay

☆ Gil

☆ Harry

☆ Uma

Poly Requests:

MATCHUPS/MOODBOARDS:

☆ @thoughtfulcreatornight x Raphael matchup

☆ Anonymous x Remus Lupin matchup

꧁〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎꧂

I’ve redone my masterlist because I was vey unhappy with my first one, and I wanted to add pictures to go with it! I’ll also be adding all my new work onto here and my old work will be on the first masterlist! Love y’all! 💗

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rmoonstoner · 9 months

Text

Just A Taste

***

Pairing:

SPIDER-Man/Man-Spider Peter Parker x fem!Sorceress!reader

Warnings:

18+, monster fucker smut, oral(female receiving), p in v sex, cream pie, biting, scratching, sex pollen(it's Peter's venom), size kink(peen is massive), mild rope kink, sex with a man spider, come eating, cum dumpster, a bit of ass play, over stimulation, sweet and rough monster boi

***

Summary:

You are Doctor Strange's and Christine's daughter. Your mother died a long time ago, and your father now runs the Sorcerer's Guild and is the Sorcerer Supreme of Earth 591D3R. You are your father's apprentice and live in the New York Sanctum. One night, a break in the Sanctum causes you to make friends with an unlikely creature.

***

One night, your father had asked you to watch over the Sanctum while he attended a meeting with the other Masters. It was concerning a rebuild of the Kamar-Taj after Wanda came through like a hell storm. You didn't want to go there anyways, because it wouldn't matter what opinion you had, everyone would ignore you and ask the doctor for advice. It didn't matter that he would give the same answer, only for them to be delighted about it and pretend you never said anything in the first place.

Lucky for you, Stephen had noticed, and that was another reason you weren't accompanying him this time. He was going to bring up the elephant in the room, and question the others as to why they treated you like a child. You were twenty two years old, and had been practicing magic since you were three.

He was confident that you could replace him soon, mostly so he could retire and go live with his girlfriend on Mars. You wanted that for him, more than the title of Sorcerer Supreme. She made your father happier than you'd ever seen him, aside from the times you would make him proud with your ever growing abilities in the Mystic Arts. He was nearly fifty years old now, and he'd been a grumpy old wizard for most of your life until he met the beautiful plant lady, who also happened to be a mutant.

That opened your eyes to the possibilities that were out there. You didn't have to limit yourself to your own kind, and your dad wouldn't care who you chose, so long as they made you happy and treated you right. You had your fair share of flings the past two years, and none of them seemed right for you.

There was always something lacking in the people you went on dates with. At first the potential partners were boring normal people. That was fine, but you found that their physical appearances, no matter how socially attractive they were, didn't really get you going. The sex was just as boring and unsatisfactory as the dates were.

And it didn't help things any that almost all of your dates were absolutely trying to brown nose their way into talking to your father. They treated you like some dumb little girl, and that pissed you off so much. Didn't they know that you were your father's daughter? Didn't they know that you inherited all his will and strive for greatness? Did they forget your memory was just as perfect as your father's, and you could be as petty as the great Doctor Strange?

No. They never did. And they never saw it coming when you started to ghost these people and ignore them. The last date you went on, was with some guy named Harry Osborne, the son of a rich business owner. The guy was a self-centered douche, and he spent the entire night talking about how he could make a lot more tech, if he could just get his hands on a magical energy generator. That the last one he had, didn't work the way he needed, so he 'disposed' of it like it was trash

He wasn't subtle about you being the generator, either. He acted like it would be such an honor for you to basically be his battery to power his laboratory. By the time the wine hit the table, you had gotten up and declared that you were not interested in being a glorified Barbie battery, and you left through a portal right there in the dining hall of the most prestigious restaurant that New York had.

That had been two weeks ago, and since then, tabloids went through the local and international news about how the Sorcerer Supreme's daughter had bravely turned down a corporate tyrant. Some painted you as the bad guy while most of the others printed that he was a jerk that tried barking up the wrong tree.

Either way, when your father read about it, he ended up making an appearance in his classic and terrifying smoke and brimstone way at Oscorp. He raised a big stink about how Norman's son was an idiot and to stay away from you and his end of the city or else. Poor Norman was confused, because he hadn't been in town for the past two months.

More tabloids went out the following day and claimed that Harry had been demoted. That made you so delighted to hear.

But tonight all you wanted was to watch a good movie and eat absolutely all the snacks that your dad left out for you as a thank you for doing his job for the night. It would be easy, barely an inconvenience, as he had the automated magical security system going, which would alert you to any unauthorized intruders.

The movie in question was a cheesy romance story with subtle horror elements. It was a woman moving to a cabin in the woods, trying to live the simple life. After being there for a few weeks, she started receiving gifts at her doorstep, which was eerie and unnerving, because she lived in the middle of nowhere. Over time, she caught glimpses of a beastly looking creature that would never be there at a second glance.

It ended up being some sort of large man that had multiple arms and multiple eyes like an insect or a spider.

The story went on to the woman catching him in the act of leaving a basket of berries at her door. When she opened the door for him, he jumped back and stared at her, scared and observant. She invited him into her home, and that's when the spicy parts began.

You fanned yourself as you watched the oddly best acted part of the movie. You knew the actors weren't actually having sex, but it was thrilling all the same. Thrilling enough to consider sticking you hand into your pants and enjoying the film's ridiculously long sex scene.

Let's face it, you totally did. When it got nice and good you felt relaxed and really going with the flow, until…

CRASH

You heard a shattering of glass and a loud thud. You jumped and used your magic to pause the television as you turned in the direction of the noise and froze.

You heard the sounds of shuffling, then glass being swept up, and an odd animalistic grumbling. You quickly scooted over to the doorway and peaked out into the hall, seeing a light on in the sitting room your dad used to entertain his guests that weren't heros and just regular everyday people.

Why didn't the alarms go off? Only unauthorized people would trip the sensors, so it had to be someone that was allowed access to the sanctum. Someone your father or you knew.

You got closer and looked into the room, seeing a single old lamp on in the corner, a shadow in the center of the room, sweeping the floor with three brooms. Where did it even find three brooms? Either way, you quickly loaded a couple of spells up into your hands, preparing for an attack if needed.

"Um, hello? Who are you, and why are you in my Sanctum?" You boldly asked as you stepped into the room, hands clearly holding a crackle of blue light in one hand, a conjured shield in the other.

The thing turned around and looked at you as it made a weird chittering noise and motioned to the glass on the floor like it was obvious as to what it was doing. You didn't get any threatening vibes as it went right back to trying, and failing, to clean up its mess from the broken window. You took pity on the poor creature and cancelled your spells out, going to cast a spell to fix the glass and clean up the mess instead. After, you flicked on another lamp to give a little more light.

The creature finally turned around and sighed, giving you a full view of how relieved it was. You saw that it was a man, possibly human, but he was off.

He looked like the creature in the movie you had just been watching, but even more attractive. This one had a beautiful mop of brown hair on his head, and his eight eyes were all twinkling in the light as he stared at you.

"You're… You're not doctor…" He grunted harshly, his mouth opening in the same manner a spider's would if it could talk. You stared at his teeth, the fangs specifically, seeing that he was drooling ever so slightly.

"No. I am not my father." You replied and told him your name. He looked confused.

"Who are you?" You asked, and he slurred a bit to clear the drool from his mouth as he wiped it with one of the backs of his six hands.

"Spider-Man."

"Spider-Man? But dad said you disappeared last summer."

"Oscorp. They did this. To me." He seemed to have troubles speaking. From what you remembered of the stories your father had told you, Spider-Man was a great hero, and he had suddenly vanished last summer and didn't come back. He was thought to be dead.

And Oscorp? Oh God that made you so mad, especially after the Harry incident.

"I should have known… Was it Harry? Did he do this to you?"

The man nodded and groaned as he crouched onto the ground and stretched like a cat, then he sat there staring up at you.

"My dad said you are a scientist. He wouldn't tell me your name, but after that horrible date I had with Harry, his ramblings, and seeing you, I can confidently say that you're Peter Parker." You said softly and he looked surprised.

"How you know?"

"Peter Parker went missing around the same time. Harry talked about you at great length and he mentioned he hates spiders." You replied and he huffed and stood back up, only to sniff the air a few times.

"So, yes, you're Peter Parker? Please answer me." You asked and he looked up at you, his eyes all blinking at once.

"Yes. Also monster. Horrible. Gross." He whined and looked down, his nose still sniffing as he moved along the carpet on all eight limbs towards you. He'd stop occasionally and look around, then keep scuttling until he was at your feet. He sat on his heels and looked up at you, head tilted to the side.

"No. You're not a horrible and gross monster. You're a man with a condition. A hero that needs help." You gently reached out and placed your hand in front of his face to see what he would do.

He leaned forward and sniffed it, and his eyes suddenly closed and he sighed. Peter leaned forward and rubbed his face against your hand, his tongue coming out to lick at your skin. You blushed at how he ran the thick muscle all over your fingers suggestively, and then sucked them into his mouth.

"O-ohhh…" You breathed as you remembered it was that hand that you had used to pleasure yourself during the movie. The thought alone had suddenly made you wetter than you had been during the film, and Peter had instantly noticed.

"Taste and smell good." He rumbled as his hands came up, all six of them, each one reaching for you. Two hands grabbed at your waist, another two grabbed your hands, and the final set grabbed your ankles.

In a swift movement he had you on your back on the floor, legs and arms spread out as he crawled over you, his eyes looking down at your form in your pajamas.

"Smell good." He groaned as he leaned down closer, his mouth just inches away from your neck. You felt a bit of lukewarm spit fall onto your skin, making you twitch and squirm.

"Smell so good." Peter said as he nuzzled your neck and began to inhale your scent.

"P-peter…" You breathed his name when his hands fumbled with your shirt and he brought two hands to your breasts and pawed at them.

"Soft." He said as his tongue came out to lick along your neck, his fangs grazing you gently.

"Warm. Very warm." He growled into your ear. You shuddered as he lifted your hips to his and he ground into you, soaking your panties and sweatpants through.

"Want taste. Taste good." Peter cooed while he started tearing your shirt and pants off of your body with ease. You shook in the cold night air as he stripped you bare and looked down at his handiwork.

"Pretty." Peter hummed gently, his mouth going to cover the juncture of your shoulder and neck. You could feel his fangs sink into your flesh painlessly, and as they went in, you could feel him secreting something into your bloodstream as well.

Oh fuck. This was how you were gonna die. Being eaten by your dad's friend, now turned into a man spider beast.

But why was it so hot? Why weren't you feeling any pain? You could still move and breathe, well as much as he would allow since he had a hold of your limbs and body. You could wiggle your fingers and toes, and move your head around freely. The more you moved, the more you felt a fire in your belly, and hot tingly feeling all over.

It went straight down to your core and made you ache painfully. You found yourself bucking up against him and whining as he pulled and tugged on your nipples with his fingers.

"Pete… Peter… Oh fuck… That feels so good…" You moaned to him and he answered you by growling deeper and letting go of your chest, his hands going down to waist and fumbling with his pants. He quickly pulled his cock out and you glanced down to see that it was massive and covered in thick veins. The head was engorged, leaking a heavy glob of precome that dripped down onto your mound and dribbled down through your soaking wet lips.

"Want more. Pretty hole. Dripping. Feel good." Peter's gravelly voice rattled you to your core and made the ache stronger and your pussy gush and clench around nothing. He chittered and gripped himself tightly, giving himself a good stroke and pushing another glob of precome out over your clit. His other hand came up, using his fingers to spread your lips and his thumb to rub his slick all over your sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Ah-ahhh!" You panted as he trilled and rubbed the head of his cock against your opening. It made you squirm and look at him, seeing that he had four of his eyes trained on your face.

"Want to fuck..?" He groaned, almost like he was now just trying to ask if this was okay.

"Please, Peter… Please… Fuck me… Put you cock inside me and fuck me, please?" You whined and begged him, and he growled and wasted no time. He pushed himself inside easily with all of the slickness you both had provided, but he was still massive and stretched you to your limit. You normally would have been in pain and fighting back, but whatever he injected you with had made it so easy to take him without hurting you.

And you wanted more.

"Good. Feels… S'goood." Peter moaned and stilled when he could go no further. You could feel his heavy balls resting on your ass, his cock pulsing rapidly.

"So tight…. So good… So wet…" He huffed as his hips began to move. He moved you around to press himself as deep as he could get, which involved hoisting you up into his lap as he cast a few webs up at the ceiling. He hung himself upside down so you were right side up, using gravity to his advantage.

In your haze of feeling exceptionally full, you felt him chitter to you as he held you tightly against him.

"Mine now. Mine. Please you good. Stay here." He hummed as started to buck into you.

"Harder…" You whimpered with each gentle thrust and begged him to go harder. He was happy to oblige you and he went hard and deep, using his many limbs to pull and tug your body in a way that he hit your gspot and ground himself against your clit with each thrust.

"So good… Warm, tight…" Peter pressed your body flush against his as he kissed you. It felt strange, but nice, feeling the way his tongue slithered around and how his lips melded with yours so easily.

You could feel his cock pulse harshly as he howled and let go of your mouth to bite down on your neck again. He felt you come undone as he pistoned into you and pumped you with more venom as he came inside of you. You felt his hot seed fill you up and leak out, but he didn't seem to be finished yet.

You could feel his cock swelling as he fucked you and kept filling you up with his come. You whined as he let your arms go to wrap his around your body as he snarled and kept going. All you could do was cling to him, one hand digging into his back, the other fisting his hair tightly as he pounded hard into you.

He spent a good thirty minutes like that in a relentless assault on your body. You were delirious the entire time, gasping, moaning, screaming for him to give you more. When he was finally finished with you, he didn't pull out. Instead, he wrapped you close to his body with his webbing, keeping himself firmly planted inside of you as he made sure you were comfortable.

You were so tired and whatever venom he put into you left you sleepy and unwilling to move. He made a pleased purring noise as he crawled along the ceiling down the hallway to your room. With barely a noise, he made a nest at the top of your four poster bed and cradled you in his arms for a long while.

***

You woke up suddenly, feeling confused and very sore. Your head was on something hard and fleshy, and you could hear a steady heartbeat and breathing. You lifted your head and went to move, only to find that you couldn't.

Not only were you bound to whoever was underneath you, they also had their painfully large and hard cock buried inside of you. You whimpered as you tried to tug on the webs, finding them not cooperating at all and they were just sticking to your fingers. You looked down and saw the man responsible for your current predicament.

Peter Parker, the Spider-Man turned Man-Spider. He was snoring peacefully, a fine line of drool on his chin with messy and tussled hair. With his eyes closed, his face looked peaceful and almost completely human, but you knew better. His six arms definitely were a dead give away, two of which were firmly wrapped around you.

You suddenly heard a thud outside of your door and you panicked, thinking your father had come home earlier than expected. You struggled for a moment, getting frustrated with how Peter seemingly stayed out cold while you freaked out.

How would you explain this to Stephen?

Oh hey, dad… So uh, your friend that you thought had died, he, well, just showed up last night looking for you, and um… We banged and he now has me hostage in my own room with his dick. While hanging in a webby nest above my bed.

Yeah, no. That wasn't gonna fly with him, and you knew it. You quickly leaned over Peter and grabbed his face.

"Wake up!" You tried unsuccessfully to wake him, but the jostling around seemed to be working. You moved your hips, gasping when his cock twitched and plumped up even more.

"Peter, please. Please wake up. I think my dad's outside the door!" You hissed as you slapped him awake. He sat up, confused and growling for a moment, until he saw it was you.

"Whaaat?"

"My dad. He's come home." You said again. Peter's face twisted into a look of worry and he looked down to see why you were panicking.

"Shit. Sorry." He apologized and cut the webbing that was holding you to him. You managed to get off of him, with a whole bunch of come rushing down your legs and to the bed below. He quickly twisted and allowed you down to the bed, and you plopped yourself down, already going to make the necessary hand motions to clean yourself and the room up. Peter sat perched on the edge of your bed, naked and curious as you frantically summoned your robes and sorcerer attire.

You heard a knock at the door, and you quickly went to it to stop it from opening.

"Are you alright, my dear?" Came your dad's voice as you slammed the door shut on him, just narrowly missing his fingers.

"Yeah. Sorry. Everything's alright. I'm naked. Don't come in." You stammered quickly as you locked the door. You heard him huff and back up.

"My apologies. I was just worried is all. You're normally awake and about before I am."

"I, uh, was up late last night watching that movie I got. I slept in, because of it." You said as you looked around for Peter's clothes.

"Really? It's noon. That's not like you at all."

"I'm fine, dad. Really."

"Well I need to discuss something with you."

"Yeah, sure, whatever ya want. Just give me a minute." You said as you went over to Peter and pointed at the bed.

"You stay here. Please don't go anywhere until I get back. Understand?" You asked him and he nodded as he crawled under your blankets and huddled there.

You turned to the door and almost thought about opening it, but instead you decided to use your Sling ring and you appeared behind your father. He whirled around and gave you a hard stare.

"Why didn't you use the door?"

"I, uh, it's a mess in there. Underwear and lady stuff strewn about. I was reorganizing my room-" You suddenly stopped talking when you noticed your father was holding up Peter's suit in one hand, and a ball of your shredded clothes covered in webs in the other.

"Uh, huh… Really, now?" Stephen asked slowly, one brow raised as you tried to outright lie to him.

"Um… I can explain."

"I think you'd better. Why was Peter's Spider-Man suit hanging on the chandelier, and your ripped and torn pajamas strewn about the sitting room meant for my guests? The room is covered in webbing, and there's a trail straight to your room." His tone was firm, but also full of concern.

You could tell he was worried for your safety, given that the last time had seen Peter was when the man had two arms on his suit and not six. You knew you'd have to come clean right then and there. Your dad has his ways of finding things out if you refused to talk.

"Well, I, uh… Peter came by looking for you last night… And…" You chewed on your lower lip and heard some scuttling inside your bedroom, and then the unmistakable sound of the toilet flushing.

"He's in your room, isn't he?" He softly asked and you looked down at your boots.

"Yes."

"Did he force you to do anything you didn't want to do?"

"No."

"Okay… Did he hurt you? Your neck is red, but your robes are hiding the rest of it." He asked as his hand came up to turn your head away so he could get a better look.

"He, um, bit me. But I'm fine. I feel fine. It's just tender there." You sheepishly said. He hummed and let go of you.

"I'll need to run some tests on you today. For now, go collect Peter, get him dressed, and coax him out for some food. I'm sure he's hungry." Your dad said and he handed you the items.

"I fixed your pajamas, by the way." He added and he turned away

"Okay… Thanks, dad."

"Oh, and sweetheart?"

"Yeah, dad?"

"I hope you used a protection spell." He said, then he left down the hallway.

You had not used any protection spells, and you felt yourself worry as you went back into your room.

Peter was sitting on the bed, looking out the window.

"He knows. He pissed." Peter muttered. You went over and smoothed your hands up his back. He chittered and leaned back as you ran your nails through his hair.

"He knows. He's not pissed. He wants you to come downstairs to have breakfast with us. Please?" You whispered into his ear and kissed his cheek. He sighed happily.

"Not scared?"

"Of you? No. I'm not scared of you at all."

"Did bad last night. I'm sorry."

"No, Peter… You did good. Very good. I was very pleased with your performance."

"I stay? With you?" He turned towards you, his eyes hopeful.

"I'll ask my dad, but we both know he will say yes. He misses you, you know." You assured him as Peter pulled you into his lap.

"Thank you. I need… Help."

"We will figure this out, Peter. My dad's the best wizard in all the land. If we can't fix it, that's okay. You can stay with us as long as you need to."

"Never want to go. Stay here. With you." He buried his face into your neck and inhaled softly.

"Okay. Can we get you dressed?" You asked and he nodded.

"Do you want me to conjure up some proper fitting clothes? Or do you want your Spider-Man suit?"

"Clothes. Please. Sweat pants. Tee-shirt." He requested and you smiled. You were about to summon some clothing, when he bit into your neck and pumped you full of his venom again. You gasped and he pushed you back onto the bed.

"Peter… What are you doing?" You whispered as you began to heat up and ache for him.

"One more taste…" He rumbled as his hands made quick work of your robes and skirts.

"Peter, if you fuck me again, I won't be able to walk! Dad's waiting and- Ooohhh…" You tried to reason with him, but he had buried his face into your mound quicker than you could stop him. You felt him spread your legs wide and holding them down with one set of arms, while another spread your lower lips out.

"Just a taste." He growled, and his last set of hands came up to your lower abdomen and he pushed down. You gasped as you felt his come from the previous night leaking out of you. He purred in delight and started to lick at your folds vigorously.

He was quite good with his tongue as he pushed it inside and swirled it around. You whimpered and squirmed, hands diving into his hair as he groaned in pleasure, savouring the noises you made.

He latched onto your clit, and when you looked down, you saw him move one of his hands downwards towards your dripping pussy. He stuck a couple of fingers in and worked them against your gspot in the hopes that you'd come for him again.

"Peter, fuck, oh gods…" You panted and bucked into his face, with him slurping and drooling all over your pussy. He groaned and shifted, bringing another hand down to toy with your ass. You could feel him grab and squeeze your flesh as he dipped a thumb between your cheeks and pressed against your backdoor.

You whimpered as he moved his thumb and collected some of his spit, come, and your fluids, then he slowly prodded inside, getting his thumb in right to the second knuckle. You moaned and tugged on his hair, feeling an orgasm quickly approaching.

"P-peter… I… I'm…" You breathed, and he started to suck harder as his tongue rolled all over your clit. You felt thr pads of his fingers pressed hard against your gspot, and you came so hard that you squirted.

Peter snarled and hungrily lapped up your juices as he kept his fingers working. You were shaking badly as he coaxed two more out of you, before letting you go to rest for a moment.

"Taste so good." He grunted while licking his fingers. He had one of his hands fisted around his cock, tugging it lightly. You stared at him while you twitched and tried to catch your breath.

"Peter…" His name came out as a silent plea, and he grinned at you wickedly.

"More. Need to feel you." He husked as he crawled back over top of you. He lifted your hips and wedged himself between your legs, his cock nudging at your entrance. You sighed as he pushed in and slid all the way back.

This time he was rough right off the bat. He held you down and fucked into hard and fast, shaking the bed and slapping the headboard against the wall. He snarled as you started screaming, and he jammed his fingers into your mouth to quiet you. You almost gagged, but managed to hold on as he dug himself in deep and kept going at that furious pace. You heard one of the legs of your bed snap, and Peter paid no attention to it. He merely went harder, feeling you shake underneath him as you came again.

"Good girl. Good f'me. Mine." Peter grunted as he reared back and propped himself up with two hands, while the other four held you close. You were seeing stars and your body was crackling with pleasure as your pussy squelched obscenely with how fast and hard he was fucking you. You were sure your bed sheets were ruined, not that you cared much. A simple spell could fix it later.

"Say it." He growled and you barely understood what he was asking.

"Say you're mine." He tried again, this time his hand coming to cup your face. You moaned, eyes watering as another orgasm ripped through you.

"I'm yours, Peter. Yours…" You sobbed against his shoulder as he growled and bit into your neck again. You convulsed and felt him come hard, painting your insides with his thick fluids.

"Good. Yours. Yours now." He huffed and rolled over with you onto your side. He breathed softly and brushed the hair from your face.

"Are you telling me that you're mine, now?" You quietly asked. Peter nodded and cuddled closer.

"Yes. Yours. Keep you safe. Keep me safe." He sighed and you smiled gently.

"I'd like that very much." You said and kissed his cheek. He purred and trilled for you as he nuzzled your neck.

"Can we please go down and see my dad now? He's been waiting for thirty minutes." You softly asked. Peter suddenly blushed and hid his face.

"Embarrassed. Doc won't be happy."

"Hush, now. He knows what's happening. If he thought you'd hurt me, he wouldn't have gone downstairs and left you with me. It is time to get your dick out of me, okay? You want more sex, you'll have to wait until after we eat." You patted his shoulder and he whined in protest, but slowly let go of you and pulled away. You felt him slip from your cunt, his come leaving a huge mess and a dull ache between your legs.

"Okay. Hungry for food now." Peter said with much enthusiasm as he gathered your clothes and brought them to you.

"Thank you. Try to behave at the dining table." You said and used your magic to clean and dress the both of you. You tried to get up and move, but found your legs refused to cooperate. Peter made a small concerned sounding noise and he came over to lift you up into his arms.

"Oh, thank you… I don't have a cool cloak like my dad."

"Don't need one. Got me." He murmured as he took you out of the room and made his way down the hall. You sighed, enjoying the way he carried you with very little effort. You didn't bother to get out of his arms when he stepped into the kitchen and nervously looked at your father.

"Took you two long enough to get down here. You're lucky I can control time, and kept the food hot. Now put my daughter down, Peter, and take a seat. Sweetheart, you might have to help him." Stephen said as he started to fill his plate. He said nothing about the bruises and the hickies to either of you. Peter ate his food in silence and when he was done he looked at Stephen, opening his mouth to speak.

"Don't bother, Peter. I'm not mad. All that I ask is you behave, if you know what I mean."

"What does that mean, dad?"

"It means he better not hurt you, kill you, or break your heart."

"So that means he can stay and we can try to help him?"

"Of course. We can make things easier for him and get his speech patterns back, but I don't think I can permanently reverse his new form without more research. I'll have a chat with Reed, Tony, and Hank, see what we can get going."

"Oh, I almost forgot. Peter says it was Harry Osborn that did this to him." You added quietly.

Your father saw red and he smashed his fist on the table.

"That little fuck is gonna pay."

***

Note:

That's it. That's what I wrote today. Fucked up and horny shit. I was high on edibles. Blame the weed. Enjoy.

***

Credits:

No one proofread this for me. I banged this out in one day.

Original post that caused this fic to happen. @refairy

I know they wanted to write this, but this hit me so damned hard and I needed to write my own. I hope you like it.

***

Tags:

@snippychicke @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer @queenotaku23 @clairewinchester14 @promiscuoussatan @mona-has-friends @lazyotakujen @timeless-crow @crazylittlereader2474 @bibibeu @novagonz3elz7799 @theaussiedragon @mystinky-butt @autismsupermusicalassassin @readingfan @missdragon-1 @marvelescvpe @lunar-ghoulie @cicithemess2000 @animesnowstorm @mahbeanz @dafuqelaine @bby-lupin @paranoiac-666 @konniebon @cl0v3r-s0up @seraphine-so-pretty @jupitersmoon167 @butterflypillows @ivystoryweaver @mintellaine @bxdbxtxh15 @badbishsblog @cleothegoldfish @xxmadamjinxx @bitchyexpertprincess @sakurayuki8655-blog @jklkverr @jkthinkstoomuch @oscarissac2099 @neteyamsluvts

#spider man smut #peter parker #man spider #peter parker smut #spider man #monster fucker #spider man peter parker #18+ fanfic

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asebizutsumi · 1 month

Text

I Am A Cat's Eye — 0: Disclaimer + characters

Summary —

After losing everything and everyone in his life due to the Mysterio incident, Peter Parker begins his new life in college. Unbeknownst to him, the cat that appears at his window after patrol is more than just a flea ridden stray.

disclaimer — THIS IS A PLATONIC PETER PARKER X READER, Y/N AND PETER ARE GOING TO HAVE A SIBLING-LIKE RELATIONSHIP

CHARACTERS — DO TONY, NATASHA, AND STEVE SURVIVE ENDGAME?

Yes. ‼️ It's been years since I've watched Endgame, but I'm still in grief, so I kept Tony, Natasha, and Steve alive 😭

WHAT HAPPENED TO THEM?

Tony fucked up his arm after snapping his fingers instead of dying. Now he has a prosthetic arm that goes from his forearm to his hand.

Natasha survived that ugly ass planet bc she's my goat ‼️

Steve decided to sit down his stupid ass instead of going after Peggy like the idiot he is (I'm still mad at him, sorry).

Steve retired from being Captain America and passed down the shield and title to Sam Wilson. [The events of FATWS still occur.]

The events of HAWKEYE and ECHO still occur.

Bruce retired the Hulk. The events of She-Hulk still occur.

The events of Far from Home and No Way Home still occur. (Duh)

No one remembers who Peter Parker is.

Y/N — BASIC CHARACTER DESCRIPTION

1.Human-like appearance with obvious cat features like fur, ears, slit and dilated pupils, tail, and fur patterns;

Y/n is a Beastman mutant, not a mutate like Peter, Wanda, Steve, etc. This obviously means that other mutants exist in this universe, including the X-men. Y/n is approximately 17 years old, with their birthday and place of birth unknown. Y/n's cat appearance is that of an adolescent cat, but I'll refer to them as a 'kitten' throughout the story. This might change. Y/n's mutation allows them to take the shape of three forms, being:

2.Anthropomorphic cat, AKA big kitty;

3.Cat.

That being said, enjoy the story! :]

> CHAPTER 1

#peter parker x reader #avengers x reader #mcu x reader #x men x reader #mutant reader #mcu au #I Am A Cat's Eye

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gatorbites-imagines · 1 year

Text

Masterlist 2

NaEmoji Guide

Dark themes = 🖤

Smut = ❤️

Find Masterlist 1 here

Marvel

-Steve Rogers

Steve Rogers and his 200 year old partner who he calls daddy (mild ❤️ mentions)

-Moon knight

The moonboys with a male reader whos a stoic tall history teacher

The moonboys (mainly Steven) watching horror movies with alien male reader

The moonboys with a lover who has C-PTSD

The moonboys with omegaverse, with a beta reader.

Moonboys and Khonshu with a touch starved reader

-Namor/kukulkan

“Clipped wings” Part 1 Namor x mutant reader

-Eddie Brock(and venom)

Eddie and Venom with a ftm reader

-Andrew Garfield (tasm) Peter Parker

Peter Parker x deadpool male reader

Spiderverse

-Miguel O’Hara

Miguel O’Hara scent/sweat smut drabble❤️

-Peter B Parker

Peter B Parker with a narcoleptic boyfriend

-Hobie Brown

Hobie Brown with a boyfriend whos a juggalo and a fellow spiderman

Hobie Brown sfw alphabet

Hobie Brown nsfw alphabet ❤️

Hobie Brown x deadpool male reader

Hobie brown x lead guitarist male reader

Hobie Brown x Male reader whos spiderman and the son of Miguel from another dimension

Hobie Brown x insecure male reader

-Pavitr Prabhakar

Pavitr Prabhakar sfw alphabet

-Peter Benjamin Parker/Spidernoir

Spidernoir with a ftm reader

Spidernoir with a lover who keeps touching his web slit/spinnerette ❤️(a little bit)

-Ben Reilly

Ben Reilly is in spider heat and wants nothing more than for you to dominate him ❤️

-Multiple

Miles and Prowler Miles with a black cat reader whos in love with miles, and is dead in earth-42.

Relationship headcanons for Miles Morales, Miguel O'hara and Hobie Brown.

Platonic/parental headcanons for Peter B and Miguel with a spiderman male reader whos very protective

-Bruce Wayne

Bruce Wayne x male reader cuddling and edging, drabble ❤️

Bruce Wayne x male reader, meeting the family

-Dick Grayson

Dick Grayson x male reader whos a dancer and hero

Dick Grayson x powered male reader whos the son of oliver queen

Dick Grayson x clarks son reader, who are hopelessly in love.

Dick Grayson x Rogue doctor male reader

-Jason Todd

Jason having a depressive episode and the reader takes care of him, so he goes into subspace ❤️

Jason todd x older vigilante male reader, part two (little bit of ❤️)

Jason Todd x snobby rich male reader with brat taming ❤️

-Tim Drake

Tim Drake x ftm reader, ft cuddling and homemade coffee

Tim Drake x flirty son of Trigon male reader, whos a sorcerer vigilante

Tim Drake x autistic male reader, where they mirror eachother, ft the batfams reaction to that

Being Tim Drakes boyfriend and his family is protective of him

Tim Drake x male reader, pulling all nighters and falling asleep

Tim Drake x older male reader

-Damian Wayne

Platonic Damian with a Alien reader who pretty much adopts him

-Wally West

Wally West with an autistic male reader

FTM Wally West x Male reader with Wally being eaten out drabble❤️

-Barry Allen

Barry Allen x cat burglar male reader

Barry Allen x alien male reader whos culture roughhouses

-Eobard Thawne

Eobard Thawne with a male reader whos just a normal guy.

-Roy Harper

Roy Harper with a villain male reader

-Clark Kent/Kal-el

Clark Kent being flirted with by a rich male reader, instead of reader flirting with Lois

Clark Kent with a kryptonian partner, featuring scent kink and kryptonian words ❤️

-Conner Kent/Kon-El

Conner Kent with a male reader, featuring kryptonian headcanons ❤️(a little)

Conner Kent with a male reader whos culture is similar to kryptonians and who purrs

Conner Kent with a male reader whos stoic around everyone, but cocky and smug with him

Conner Kent with a male reader whos a clone of plastic man.

-Hal Jordan

Hal Jordan x Red Lantern Czarnian male reader (slight ❤️)

Hal Jordan x male reader, with a scent/musk kink ❤️

-Guy Gardner

Guy Gardner relationship headcanons

Guy Gardner nsfw alphabet ❤️

Guy Gardner trying to top fellow lantern reader, but being dominated ❤️

Guy Gardner being put in subspace by his star sapphire lover, with sounding ❤️

-John Constantine

Constantine nsfw alphabet ❤️

Constantine with a male reader whos like Dean Winchester from Supernatural

Constantine x tattoo artist male reader (mild ❤️)

-Harvey Dent/Two-Face

Harvey Dent with a male reader who distracts him during work

Harvey Dent/Two-Face cuddle fluff

-Bane

Bane x FTM reader general headcanons

-Minhkhoa Khan/Ghostmaker

Minhkhoa Khan relationship headcanons

-Multiple

Yandere Jason x speedster male reader x Yandere Dick

Yandere Jason x speedster male reader x Yandere Dick part 2 🖤

Batboys with a villain reader who constantly flirts with them

DC characters and my personal headcanons for them (ethnicity, gender, etc)

Martian Headcanons

Kryptonian Headcanons

Dick grayson x Wally West x male reader

Platonic batfam with a kid reader whos a clone of jason, raised by the Joker

Platonic Batfam with a sick vigilante male reader who wont rest

Invincible

-Flaxan leader

Flaxan leader with an anti-hero male reader

Star Wars

-Anakin Skywalker

Padawan Anakin Skywalker x dark side leaning male reader

Anakin Skywalker x mandalorian reader with cockwarming ❤️

Anakin Skywalker flirting with the reader and making out

-Paz Vizsla

Paz Vizsla x sith male reader, ft Darth Revan and lots of headcanons

Paz Vizsla x ftm reader headcanons

-Din Djarin

Din Djarin adopting a foundling pantoran reader and being a father figure.

FTM Din Djarin getting eaten out in his pilot seat with his armor on ❤️

-Boba Fett

Boba Fett x male reader with gunplay❤️

The Boys

-Billy Butcher

Billy Butcher x male reader whos Homelanders brother

-Homelander/John Gillman

Homelander x supe male reader whos much more powerful than him ❤️

Homelander dating a ftm reader

-The Deep/Kevin Moskowitz

The Deep x male reader where he gets off just having his gills played with ❤️

-Multiple

A-Train, MM, Frenchie and Hughie as boyfriends, headcanons

Slashers

-Jason Voorhees

Jason with a male reader whos childhood friends who meet again years later

Jason Voorhees nsfw alphabet ❤️

-Chad Martin-Meeks

Chad with a male reader who grew up together and fell in love.

-Billy Lenz

Billy Lenz with somnophilia ❤️(🖤 cuz theres no explicit consent)

-Poly Ghostface

Billy and Stu with a male reader who has anger issues whos tired of being angry

Billy and Stu comforting their lover who has body dysmorphia

One Piece

-Donquixote Doflamingo

Doflamingo with a lover whos shorter than him

Yandere Doflamingo with a male reader who gets stockholm syndrome ❤️(🖤 a bit, cuz yandere)

Doflamingo x young adult male reader with back pains

-Sir Crocodile

Ftm Sir Crocodile being fucked into submission by the reader ❤️

-Dracule Mihawk

FTM dracule mihawk x service top male reader ❤️

-Red Haired Shanks

Shanks x martial artist male reader whos love language is physical affection and words of affirmation

-Trafalgar D Water Law

Law being Bratty and being punished by a bigger Zoan fruit male reader ❤️

Law with a tall intimidating male reader who everyone thinks is the top (mild ❤️)

-Vinsmoke/Black Leg Sanji

Sanji being tied up and desperate to touch the reader ❤️

Reader spanking Sanji to let off some steam ❤️

-Roronoa Zoro

Reader punishing/spanking Zoro, but it ends up with them arguing, but making up❤️

-Edward “Whitebeard” Newgate

Whitebeard with a tall male reader whos never been shorter than anyone before ❤️

-Smoker the white hunter

Smoker SFW alphabet

Teen Wolf

-Jackson Whittmore

overall Jackson Whittmore nsfw headcanons ❤️

-Scott McCall

Bottom Scott McCall x kanima-werewolf male reader, ft some tailplay ❤️

Rick and Morty

-Rick Sanchez

Yandere Rick Prime headcanons 🖤

Ovetime

-Josiah Nguyen

Yandere Josiah headcanons 🖤

Call of Duty

-Simon “Ghost” Riley

Ghost being secretly married to Soaps brother

Ftm Ghost x male reader smut drabble ❤️

-Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Ftm Gaz x male reader, pussydrunk reader with overstim, drabble ❤️

-Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra

Dom rudy headcanons along with a few cute ones ❤️

-Phillip Graves

Graves with a male reader whos gone through a near death experience

Graves with a vampire boyfriend

-Multiple

141 with a male reader who wears a lot of dog tags

Poly Alerudy with a male reader whos childhood best friends and post lovers with Soap

Cod boys with a male reader who wears a mask and has a huge burn scar

Cod boys with a reader who repeats words or phrases they say

Poly alerudy with a short male reader

Alejandro and Graves with a reader who rubs their face against their stubble

Poly alerudy with a tall male reader who is basically a giant cat

Alejandro, Rudy, Graves and Soap with a reader whos create as copying noises

Ghost, Soap, Alejandro, Rudy, and König with a reader whos a famous volleyball player

Alejandro and Rudy with a mute s/o

141 with an autistic reader who makes noises, like meowing and hissing

Soap, Gaz, Ghost, Roach and Graves as pups with petplay❤️

Alejandro and Rudy taking care of their sick and hurt lover

Lookism

-Multiple

Lookism characters with a male reader who has a squishable chest and butt

Barbie (2023)

-Kenneth “Ken” Sean Carson

Ken x male reader drabble, where Ken gives the reader head and has a praise kink ❤️

Stereotypical Ken x Male reader x Pompadour Ken where they compete whos best ❤️

Baldurs Gate 3

-Astarion Ancunín

Astarion with a Bard Tiefling male reader, random headcanons

Fight Club

Jack/The Narrator

Jack x medical staff male reader (drabble, from jacks pov)

-multiple

Tyler Durden and Jack “The narrator” throuple relationship headcanons

Scott Pilgrim Takes off

-Todd Ingram

Helping Todd Ingram get over his crush on Wallace and it leads to make outs.

-Stephen Stills

Stephen Stills x male reader meeting in a club ❤️

My Hero Academia

-Enji Todoroki/Endeavor

Reformed Enji with a hero male reader whos very flirty when they are on patrol

Jujutsu Kaisen

-Nanami Kento

Nanami giving dom/top reader aftercare (mild ❤️)

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marrziy · 6 months

Text

Peter Parker (Tom Holland) x Male Reader

"Vem Relaxar de Ladinho"

• Filme: franquia Homem Aranha do MCU.

• Personagem: Peter Parker.

• Sinopse: M/n não sabe o que leva Peter a esconder o motivo de suas deixas imprevisíveis, ele simplesmente some e nunca dá justificativa. Em uma dessas escapulidas repentinas, ao retornar, Peter brota com hematomas e um humor nada amistoso. Mesmo que M/n não saiba o porquê e com Peter se recusando a abrir o bico, ele se dispõe a ser a válvula de escape do namorado, o abordando com uma proposta tentadora e um tanto arriscada.

• Sobrenome do M/n: Collins.

• Narrador: 3° pessoa - presente.

*história antiga e não revisada*

M/n está escorado no batente da porta do banheiro, observando Peter agachado, procurando algo no armário da pia. O Parker bagunça tudo ali dentro, impaciente, só parando com a desorganização quando encontra o que tanto buscava. Peter se ergue com um pacote de algodão nas mãos. Ele ignora M/n, evitando uma possível discussão, focando totalmente em seus ferimentos.

Collins se recusa a aproximar-se, não por receio ou coisa do gênero, mas sim por ele saber que Peter, com sua paciência inexistente, iria o tratar com ignorância, e M/n sendo M/n, acabaria por mandar o Parker ir tomar naquele orifício, iniciando um bate-boca desnecessário no apartamento.

Mas ao ver o namorado abrir a caixinha de papelão, ou melhor narrando, ver o namorado destroçar a embalagem, fazendo vários gominhos brancos se espalharem pela cerâmica, M/n se vê envolto na necessidade de pelo menos questionar o porquê de tanto estresse.

— Peterzinho, fala comigo... – M/n se aproxima, segurando o queixo de Peter e virando o rosto dele para si. Há hematomas em sua face, alguns arranhões e marcas, nada muito grave, mas com certeza não ignorável. — O que aconteceu? Alguém fez isso com você? – só de imaginar que alguém possa ter ferido seu namorado, o sangue de M/n ferve.

— Não. Ninguém fez nada. – o Parker se irrita com a presença do Collins, não por algo vindo dele, mas sim porque Peter detesta ter M/n presenciando esse seu lado de emoções tão desreguladas. — Não é nada demais, só... – Peter segura o pulso de M/n, afastando sua mão de seu rosto. — Só me deixa sozinho. – o Parker diz, forçando um sorriso e amenizando o tom, tentando transparecer uma certeza que convença.

— Vamos supor que isso seja verdade... – o Collins se vira para a pia, pegando um dos vários gominhos de algodão ali jogados após Peter descontar suas frustrações em uma simples ação. M/n não está disposto a deixar de roer o osso, independente da dureza. — Se não foi nada, então fez sentido você chegar aqui soltando fogo pelas ventas, ter batido a porta da sala com tanta força que quase a fez passar reto pela tranca, ter vindo ao banheiro pisando tão fundo no chão que deve ter feito o teto dos vizinhos de baixo tremer e agora estar aqui, mentindo pra mim? – M/n borrifa álcool no algodão, entregando para Peter, o encarando nos olhos, esperando por nada, mas querendo uma justificativa.

Peter pega o algodão enquanto retribui o contato visual. Ele fecha os olhos e suspira pesadamente, tentando se acalmar e analisar as variáveis, mas fica no mesmo terreno. — Eu pedi pra você sair. – Peter exibe uma feição neutra, mas sua fala seca e voz rígida revelam que ele não está disposto a investir em um esclarecimento.

M/n aperta os dedos das mãos, transparecendo o descontentamento no ato. — Tá. – M/n engole o "vai pro caralho então, porra!" que quase atravessa seus lábios. O Collins se vira e se afasta, achando melhor deixar Peter sozinho, na esperança de que ele esfrie a cabeça por conta própria.

Parker, encarando o próprio reflexo no espelho, se martiriza por querer contar, mas ter o empecilho de sua identidade secreta o impedindo.

Ele não poderia simplesmente desabafar sobre ter topado com uma gangue de ladrões mutantes tentando roubar um banco e ter comprado a missão de os impedir, mas acabar levando um sacode e ter os deixado fugir graças aos próprios poderes, que resolveram falhar naquele momento, sem antes revelar ao namorado que ele é o Homem-Aranha!

— Seu... Arrombado! Idiota fudido! – Peter xinga a si mesmo enquanto cuida de seus ferimentos. — Que dia de merda! – ele sussurra, colocando um band-aid sobre o corte em sua bochecha.

. . .

May Parker conhece bem o sobrinho, ela sabe que o melhor a se fazer é esperar o garoto se acalmar antes de dialogar. A mulher havia observado a situação sem se intrometer, planejando conversar com Peter no dia seguinte.

— Meninos, eu vou me deitar. – ela avisa, bagunçando o cabelo do sobrinho e lhe dando um beijo na testa antes de direcionar-se ao quarto. — Qualquer coisa é só gritar, mas por favor, evitem. Eu quero dormir. – May para no corredor e gesticula um "boa sorte" mudo para M/n, que consegue ler os lábios da mulher e captar a mensagem. Peter encara tudo aquilo sem entender, mas dá de ombros e volta a arrumar o sofá.

O plano do casal era passar a madrugada de sábado agarradinhos maratonando sitcoms na tv. Brooklyn Nine-Nine já iluminava o ambiente escuro, com o último episódio da sétima temporada pausado na Netflix.

M/n propôs que deixassem para outro dia, quando o clima não estivesse tão esmagador, mas seu namorado, se sentindo culpado pela forma como o tratou, tentou se redimir e o convenceu a ficar.

Acontece que Peter, mesmo com a boa intenção, não consegue fazer a frustração do dia passar e permanece incomodado, mas agora ele está decidido a não descontar sua raiva em mais ninguém.

Do lado de fora, a chuva fraca contribui para o aconchego. M/n usa um blusão branco e um short de pano fino. Ele quase se arrepende da escolha do pijama quando uma corrente fria passa por suas coxas, mas uma ideia atrevida ilumina sua mente. M/n pensou em uma maneira interessante de usar a pele exposta.

— Deita primeiro, fofo. – o sorriso escancarado de M/n passa despercebido por Peter. — Eu vou ser a conchinha de dentro.

Peter dá play no episódio antes de deitar no sofá. Ao se acomodar no estofado, ele abre as pernas e bate a palma da mão no espaço livre, chamando M/n para se juntar a si.

O Collins imagina seu plano se concretizando e sente os pelos do corpo eriçados. Ele vai trocar o mau humor do namorado por exaustão e pernas bambas.

Peter usa uma camiseta azul com o escudo do Capitão América estampado no centro e uma calça xadrez vermelha de tecido flanela. O traje despojado logo se revelaria um detalhe sem propósito.

M/n se joga no sofá e cobre os dois corpos com uma coberta fina. Peter fica curioso quanto a empolgação do sujeito.

Com o episódio rodando, Parker abraça a cintura de M/n, puxando ele para mais perto, conectando as costas do namorado ao seu peitoral e fechando a conchinha ao prender o quadril de M/n entre suas pernas. Peter aconchega o queixo no vão do pescoço de seu amado, assistindo ao episódio sem disposição para rir da comédia do seriado, que costuma lhe roubar gargalhadas em seus dias comuns.

Já M/n sequer dá atenção ao que passa na tv. Se Peter pudesse ver o rosto do namorado, iria encontrar uma feição travessa, similar a expressão de um vilão de desenho animado bolando um plano contra o mocinho.

O Collins leva uma mão para trás, com um pouco de dificuldade para tatear graças ao pouco espaço. Sem rodeios, ele passa pela barra da camiseta de Peter, adentrando o tecido, tocando a pele quente do namorado com seus dedos mornos, acariciando cada gominho do abdômen até chegar no peitoral firme.

— A-amor, o que você tá fazendo? – Peter questiona, mesmo tendo a resposta em evidência. — A gente não pode fazer isso aqui! – ele sussurra com sua voz mansa no ouvido de M/n. Peter sente receio, mas a adrenalina é o gás que leva seus gestos a contrariarem seus pensamentos valorosos, é o que o leva a ignorar que ele está no sofá da tia. Parker agarra os quadris do namorado com firmeza, os deixando estáticos enquanto ele esfrega sua ereção crescente na bunda de M/n. — Porra... – Peter suspira em desistência, chupando o pescoço convidativo de M/n enquanto se pressiona contra ele.

— Relaxa, você não vai me comer. – Peter morde o pescoço de Collins com força, em um ato de revolta pela resposta contraditória que recebeu. M/n não deixa barato e torce o mamilo esquerdo de Peter, acariciando o biquinho amarronzado na sequência. — Você acha que merece me foder depois de ter me tratado daquele jeito? – eles conversam sem olhar um para o outro. Atrás há um Parker de expressão sofrida, se contorcendo graças a carga repentina de exitação, e na frente, um Collins de sorriso convencido, se divertindo com a situação. — Sem contar que você é uma vadia barulhenta. Se você meter o pau em mim, com certeza vai acordar a sua tia com seus gemidos escandalosos.

— Por favor! Eu prometo ficar quietinho! – com a boca aberta, quase pondo a língua para fora, Peter suspira pesadamente. Ele abaixa a mão até a barra do short de M/n, atravessando o tecido e apertando a carne da bunda do Collins. — Só a cabecinha! Deixa?

— Você acha mesmo que eu caio nessa? – M/n ri da fala do namorado, parando de acariciar os peitos de Peter para agarrar seu pulso e tirar sua mão de dentro de seu short. — Me obedeça e talvez você goze essa noite. – a voz autoritária de M/n faz Parker estremecer. Peter sente que qualquer coisa vinda de M/n é lucro, um simples toque do rapaz o convenceria a fazer qualquer coisa nesse momento.

— É o que eu mais quero! – a voz manhosa de Parker deixa a cueca de M/n apertada.

O Collins se pega pensando em como Peter se rendeu rápido aos seus estímulos, ele gosta desse efeito que tem sobre o parceiro. M/n dedilha lentamente até o cós da calça de Peter, ansioso para ter o pau do namorado em mãos, já que recebia uma prova da exitação dele em sua bunda, com Peter esfregando o membro na traseira de seus quadris.

Peter inspira profundamente no pescoço de M/n, decorando o tom floral de seu perfume. Sentindo uma onda de calor o rodear, o acastanhado levanta a camiseta e a deixa estendida, segurando o tecido acima do peitoral, e com a mão livre ele também levanta a blusa de M/n, esfregando seu abdômen despido nas costas nuas do namorado, ambos sentindo o corpo um do outro.

M/n puxa a calça de Peter para baixo, trazendo a cueca junto, apenas o suficiente para que o pau do namorado se liberte das peças. O Collins fantasia com a expressão de Peter, mas se contenta com isso, tendo em vista que a movimentação é limitada no sofá e que para tudo funcionar, eles precisam estar de ladinho.

Mas M/n não resiste e vira o pescoço o quanto pode, encontrando Peter de olhos fechados, seu peito subindo e descendo enquanto ele impulsiona o quadril para frente, esfregando o pênis teso na bunda coberta de M/n.

— Porra... Eu te amo! – Peter expressa, sua voz fraca e rouca chicoteando o ouvido de M/n entre arfares longos.

— Você consegue falar um palavrão e a coisa mais adorável do mundo em uma frase e ser sexy e fofo enquanto tá de pau duro. – M/n faz mágica para alcançar os lábios de Peter enquanto está de costas para ele, dando um selinho rápido no namorado. — Eu te amo mais! – M/n se sente privilegiado por ter Peter nessa posição, somente para si.

O Parker sorri com a fala do parceiro, mas logo sua expressão se contorce, com ele franzindo as sobrancelhas e abrindo a boca em um gemido pausado quando M/n agarra seu pau, fechando a palma na cabecinha e descendo até a base, espalhando seu pré-sêmen por sua extensão. — Caralho! Isso!

M/n se assusta no momento em que a voz de Peter se eleva. Ele não mentiu quando disse que Peter é escandaloso. — Peter, se controla!

— Foi mal! Eu nã-não consigo segurar! – o Parker leva uma mão até os lábios, abafando os próprios gemidos.

M/n estica o braço livre até a mesinha de centro, pegando o controle e aumentando o volume da tv. "É melhor reclamarem do som da televisão do que de gemidos." é seu raciocínio.

— Eu amo sua voz manhosa fazendo esses barulhinhos gostosos, amor. – M/n aperta o pau do namorado, o sentindo pulsar violentamente em sua mão. Peter joga a cabeça para trás, mordendo o lábio inferior com força. — Mas você não pode gemer sem precedentes. As paredes são finas e mesmo que May tenha o sono pesado, eu imagino que você não queira arriscar, não é?

Peter leva as duas mãos aos lábios após os avisos do namorado, indo a loucura com a palma macia de M/n deslizando pelo seu membro, subindo da base até a ponta em um ritmo delicioso. Seu pau está úmido com a quantidade abundante de pré-porra que escorre da cabeça avermelhada e que é espalhada pela mão veloz de M/n por todo o seu comprimento. — Puta merda! – Peter deixa escapar quando M/n se inclina para trás, encaixando a ponta do seu pênis entre a parte interna das coxas.

— Você não vai foder a minha bunda, mas pode se divertir com as minhas coxas. – M/n enuncia, sua voz rouca alugando um triplex na cabeça de Peter. O Collins levanta a barra do short até expor cem por cento das pernas.

— Pode deixar. – Peter esfrega a ponta do nariz no pescoço do namorado e morde o lóbulo de sua orelha, o fazendo suspirar e se contorcer em anseio. — Eu vou me divertir demais.

M/n solta um gemido consideravelmente alto pelo contato das mãos ágeis e selvagens de Peter em seu quadril. O Parker agarra o corpo do namorado com tanta força que M/n consegue sentir as unhas dele através de suas vestes.

O acastanhado puxa M/n de uma vez, o fazendo colidir contra sua pélvis. O pau de Peter desliza com facilidade por entre as coxas unidas do Collins, no primeiro contato já umedecendo as pernas do namorado com sua porra.

Peter começou a gemer afoito ao dar início as investidas, iniciando lento e potente, fazendo o corpo de M/n alavancar para frente a cada novo impulso, tornando cada um deles memorável ao corpo necessitado.

M/n força as pernas uma na outra ao ponto de eliminar qualquer vão entre as coxas, obrigando o pau do Parker a criar o próprio buraco que fodia, deixando a fricção mais intensa e prazerosa. — M/n... porra... – Peter se embola ao falar, não conseguindo formular uma frase completa sem que os gemidos cortem a fluidez das palavras. — Eu... Eu amo o se-seu corpo! Eu amo vo-você todinho!

O estado ofegante de Peter e sua voz manhosa poderiam fazer M/n atingir o clímax sem qualquer estímulo físico. — Eu também amo cada fibra sua...!

Com o calor cada vez mais intenso, M/n se livra do cobertor que aninhava seus corpos, e é instantâneo o arrepio que samba por cada célula do rapaz quando ele tem a visão da cabecinha molhada do pau do namorado surgindo após seu comprimento se alojar entre suas coxas.

As pernas do Collins não acomodam o pênis de Peter por completo, e pensando nisso, M/n faz uma conchinha com uma das mãos e a leva até onde a cabeça atrevida do cacete de Parker fazia presença. Peter libera gemidos cada vez mais altos e suas estocadas são desesperadas. M/n sabe que ele está próximo de gozar, e essa foi sua maneira rápida de impedir que a porra do namorado jorre onde não deva jorrar.

M/n sabe que Peter morreria de vergonha caso seu gozo manche o sofá.

O herói fode aquelas coxas com tanta voracidade que quase expulsa o parceiro do sofá com suas estocadas brutas. M/n sente os dentes de Peter afundarem em seu pescoço, e com a voz abafada, Parker avisa antes de um gemido longo e rouco escalar sua garganta. — Eu vou gozar! Eu... – As pernas de Peter fraquejam e seus movimentos se tornam desregulados e inconscientes quando jatos de porra vazam da fenda de seu pau, encharcando a palma de M/n com o líquido quente e esbranquiçado.

Peter dá mais cinco impulsos fortes, liberando todo o gozo que suas bolas pesadas acumulavam. Ele puxa o pênis e M/n faz questão de contrair as coxas quando Peter afasta o quadril, extraindo um último gemido intenso do namorado.

— Isso foi...

— Bom pra caralho? – M/n pergunta, ficando de frente para Peter e enchendo o rosto dele de beijinhos afobados, ao mesmo tempo em que levou a palma gozada discretamente para baixo, a limpando na calça de Peter sem que ele perceba. "A porra é dele mesmo." M/n pensa.

— Foi muito mais do que isso! Eu tô tão relaxado agora... Amor, foi perfeito! – A voz do Parker está mansa. Ele bota o pênis de volta para dentro da calça e se aconchega no sofá, abraçando o corpo de M/n e os cobrindo novamente com a coberta. — E a propósito, obrigado. – Peter beija os lábios do namorado antes de fechar os olhos, se rendendo ao sono após recuperar o fôlego. — Eu sei que você fez por mim, mas eu quero te recompensar... – O acastanhado sabe que o parceiro não gozou e ele planeja nivelar essa dívida no dia seguinte. — Você não quis liberar o rabo, mas amanhã o meu é todinho seu...

M/n revira os olhos, sorrindo abobado com a fala do parceiro. Ele com certeza vai sonhar com isso irá cobrar a promessa de Peter.

. . .

A chuva isolada da noite passada é substituída pelos raios quentes do sol imponente. Os feixes da luz natural invadem a sala e incomodam os olhos sensíveis de Peter. O herói acordou cedo, mas não moveu um músculo desde seu despertar. Ele encara as costas de seu amado, pensativo sobre algo.

— Amor, acorda! – O Parker chega a uma conclusão. Ele balança o corpo de M/n, torcendo para que a coragem repentina não suma com a mesma velocidade que veio.

M/n resmunga, abrindo os olhos e se deparando com a visão embaçada de um Peter sério. — Que foi? – a voz grogue do Collins questiona.

— Eu Homem-Aranha! – Peter já tinha a frase pronta, mas fala tão rápido que acaba engolindo algumas palavras.

— O quê? – M/n não entendeu nada. Ele estreita os olhos, como se isso fosse o ajudar a ouvir melhor.

— Eu sou o Homem-Aranha! – Peter repete, agora com clareza.

— É o quê? – Uma terceira voz surge. Dessa vez foi May a questionar. A mulher estava bebendo água na cozinha e acabou ouvindo a última frase do sobrinho. Agora o líquido se encontra no chão, junto aos vários cacos de vidro do copo que ela tinha em mãos.

~ . • 🍎 •. ~

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