#spider-man: across the spider-verse spoilers

[luveline]

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐲 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨'𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

miguel assumes you're mad when you stop initiating kisses and tries to get back on your good side —featuring grumpy but lovelorn miguel and his head-in-the-clouds spider-girl. requested here. fem!reader, 3k.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

"Gàn de piàoliang!" cheers the puppy at the bottom of your screen. Well done.

You smile at him and slide your finger across a lilac candy to make another three-match. 

The music playing from your phone quietens as a text lines the top of the screen. You click it as soon as you recognise the contact picture beside it, your handsome Miguel with a filter over his face that paints rosy pink hearts over his high cheeks. 

Finished. his text says. 

Miguel is a man of little words. Over the phone he talks even less, easier to draw blood from stone than harness a conversation with him that isn't in person. His text demarcates the wall of messages you sent him earlier, not wanting for a reply but bursting to tell him things as they happened. 

You put your phone down carefully. It's one of your most treasured possessions, shimmering and high tech, you can fold it down the middle to fit in your little spider suit pockets, though the amount of charms and beads hanging from it now impedes that particular functionality.

Miguel gave it to you as a gift without any fanfare around the time you started staying in his apartment in the society, and while your bunking with him was supposed to be temporary, the phone is for keeps. You've decorated it accordingly.

The best charm is a beaded translucent jellyfish, and not solely because it's beautiful: Miguel has a matching one that he showcases shamelessly. 

You rush into his neat bathroom and lean heavily on the counter, propping your hand on the faucet to hold your weight as you assess your reflection in the mirror. When you turn your face, your nose shines in the light. 

You decide it's best to wash up. Miguel will be back soon enough. 

You get distracted by skincare, toner pads resting on your cheeks when you hear the door opening. A waste to take them off prematurely, you pat them flat to your skin and meet Miguel in his bedroom half ready. 

"I can see why you didn't text me back," he says, giving you a quick glance from the corner of his eye as he walks past the bed and your waiting phone. He beelines for the kitchenette and disappears around the corner. "What do they do, the squares?" 

"They're calming, I think," you say, following his path from the bathroom to the small kitchen. 

His apartment is big but not huge. The main room is his bedroom, with enough space for a couch and a TV he never uses that comes out of the wall. To the right is a utility closet for storage and a walk-in wardrobe, and to the left lies the kitchen and the bathroom. It takes you all of ten seconds to be by his side. 

Bottles rattle as Miguel opens the fridge. He grabs sparkling water for himself and a fruit tea concoction for you. You hadn't followed him for that, but you accept it anyway. 

He looks tired. Tilting his head back to drink, you eye the stiff set to his shoulders and the way he rolls his arm out, orchestrating an offer for a massage in your head. 

Miguel squints at you. "What?" 

"What?" you ask back. 

He doesn't explain. He screws the lid back on to his water and closes the fridge. 

With his empty hand, Miguel reaches for your face. You stay very still in anticipation of his touch, imagining how he might take your cheek in his hand and pull you close, or perhaps curl thick, long fingers behind your neck and guide your chin up. He can be rough in odd ways, as though he's unaware of his strength. 

"It's slimy," he says in disgust, pulling a toner pad from your left cheek. 

"It's going to make my skin clearer." 

"There's nothing wrong with your skin." True or not, you know it's Miguel's way of being sweet. He takes the second toner pad too, tossing them in the trash with a huff. "That's better. You look normal. Or, as normal as possible." 

"Jerk!" you say through a smile, thinking now's the moment. 

But Miguel hasn't peeled away your skincare to kiss you. He pats a spot of dampness on your cheek away with the back of his hand and turns on his heel, gunning for a change of clothes and a shower, if you know him. "Drink your tea. Did you eat? Me preocupo por ti." 

You sigh and trail after him. "I was waiting for you to come back. It's Vietnamese week in the cafeteria, they're making cá kho tộ. Do you like that? It's sweeter than hake." 

"It's fish?" 

"Catfish. Caramelised catfish." You sit down on the bed, flipping your phone open to play your game while he decides. 

That, and to ignore the inkling of doubt blossoming like mould under heat in your chest. An achy sort of worry… 

Does Miguel not want to kiss you? 

"What's the other option? I don't like sweet foods." 

You knew that already. "You could make pasta?" you suggest. 

"You'd love that." 

"Are you teasing me?" 

Miguel pokes his head out of the wardrobe, and with it comes his naked chest. His muscles are insane, lean tanned stretches of cord pulled taut as he grabs a shirt. "I'm making an observation. You like carbs." 

"Everyone likes carbs, Miguel, especially Spiders." 

"I know, but I don't make anyone else dinner." He's definitely flirting now, his voice playful and soft. "I'll make you pasta if you want." 

Why hasn't he kissed you? Offering to make you dinner, smiling at you just as soon as his face has been pulled through his t-shirt. He's acting as affectionate as a man who'd like to kiss you without pulling through. 

Well, maybe you kiss him too much. Come to think of it, you initiate the vast, vast majority of kisses, and you must kiss him twice a day at least. Miguel clearly favours you, but it's possible he isn't interested in as much physicality as you and hasn't had the heart to say. He likes watching vintage movies at night and half the time you're not interested in those. You haven't said a word about it because things between you are new and you like his being happy watching the things he enjoys. Miguel could be doing the same, allowing hugs and kisses he doesn't necessarily want in order to avoid hurting your feelings. 

A favourite phrase of his cuts through your thinking, "¿Alguien en casa?" Anyone home?

"Oh, sorry, were you not getting enough attention?" you ask him, pretending to be more nonchalant than you are as you open the match game on your phone. 

The puppy barks hello. 

"Ah, you're a cómico now." Miguel sits on the bed beside you in sweatpants, reaching across the sheets to give your arm a shake. "I said, I'll make you pasta if you want pasta." 

"I want what you want," you say honestly. 

He stares at you. You're not sure what he's confused about. "Alright. Did you want it now?" he asks. 

"Yes, serf," you say, laughing when he knocks your phone out of your hand and stands in a dramatised annoyance. 

You play a couple levels of your game to give him space. He's quiet as he washes his hands and gets out the cookware, but he appears curious in the door, rag between his hands. "You're not gonna come and sit with me? I really am your maid." 

Eager for an invitation, you join him in the kitchen. You brace yourself behind you to hop onto the counter and find his hands on your hips, helping you up. 

Miguel meets your eyes as he does, not close but enough to beckon down for a kiss. You think about doing it. He might let you, his straight lashes pointed with his gaze, his eyes a heavy weight where they trace your features unhurried. 

"How come you didn't text me back earlier?" he asks. 

"Oh, I didn't know you were expecting me to. I'm sorry, handsome, I was kind of grody–"

"Grody? I doubt that–" 

"–I figured I'd wash up before you got back." 

"So you were busy?" he asks, returning to the chopping board at the left of the stove. He picks up a glinting-sharp knife. "Not something else?" 

"No, why? Was I supposed to do something today?" 

Miguel begins slicing into a tomato, red skin splitting to reveal greener insides. "No. No, just wondering." 

You lean back against the wall, crossing a leg over your thigh. He's being kind of off. Your first impulse is to try and kiss it better but that directly fights your new theory. Being nice physically is far from your only weapon. 

"Did you have a good day?" you ask, and here's where you'd pull him close or sidle up behind him and twist his hair around your finger. "I was thinking about you a lot. Did the strike mission go okay?" 

"Fine. You didn't come see me, but it was fine." 

You eye him from the corner of your vision. He's still cutting up tomatoes, a pan of olive oil and minced garlic simmering between you. 

"I sent you all those photos," you say. 

One of the Peter's you hang around with got his arm stuck in a window after he said, "Is that a bad idea, do you think? I really wanna try," and Hobie said, "They can't stop you." 

The 'they' being unknown, Hobie was right. No one could stop Peter once he started climbing, but the window could certainly stop him from getting down. You'd sent Miguel pictures of his dangling body up in the atrium like a dark splodge, as well as a blurry photo of your face when you'd accidentally turned the camera. He responded to that one with a heart but the rest he didn't touch. 

"They got him down eventually," you continue, "but I had to stay for moral support! And to feed him popcorn so he didn't starve. Was it peaceful without me?"

"You know I like when you visit me, right?" he asks carefully. 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah?" he mimics, waving his hand at you. "Can't deal with you. Get the cream from the fridge." 

You eat dinner as you and Miguel tend to do —you talk your way through it happily, smiling and joking, and he puts extra helpings on your plate when you aren't looking. 

The alien quality of what you're doing rears its head briefly. He's trying to stop the quasi apocalypse. You're willing to help, though you'd been more interested in Miguel and getting to know his enigma than your responsibilities. Weird how love makes you want to be better. 

"What was your course like?" Miguel asks, when the dishes have been set aside for washing and you've showered for the night. 

He's talkative tonight. 

"They taught us how to wield a baton," you say, climbing into his bed with a tired sigh. "One girl was crazy about it. She kind of looked like me…" You yawn, looking for his waist as he settles in the sheets and pillows next to you. "You're lucky I got my claws into you when I did. At least I'm not murderous. Much." 

Miguel covers your hand on his ribs. He squeezes your fingers together gently like he's collecting them under his palm for borrowing. 

"You didn't get your claws in me. I'm not easily led." 

"Course not," you snort. You actually agree with him, but he said it too seriously for bedtime. 

Miguel abandons your hand to pull you in, encouraging your head and upper chest onto his, hand coasting up and down the length of your arm lovingly. Firmly, like a massage, but adoring nonetheless. You languish in his touches and rub your lips, still tingling from spearmint, against the collar of his shirt gently. As indirect a kiss as you can manage, practically sick with longing after a day unkissed. 

"Are you mad at me?" he asks into the quiet.

You pause, fingers with a mind of their own as you take a long strand of hair that curls under his ear between them, combing it flat. "Why, have you done something?" you ask, hiding your confusion with a delighted lilt. 

"I've been trying to work that out." Frustration seeps into his voice, roughened syllables drawn tight, "But you're evasive." 

"I'm evasive," you say softly, tilting your head back to meet his eye. "Miguel, why do you think I'm mad at you? I'm not mad." 

Miguel glares at you. Brows furrowed, an especially formidable downturn to an otherwise pretty mouth, he looks as though he wants to start a fight with you, and as though he doesn't believe it. 

"I'm not mad," you insist, sitting up a little. 

"Then…" 

You scrunch your brows at him. "You've been thinking I was mad at you all day? Why didn't you say something, handsome?" 

He might roll his eyes at your pet name if he weren't knee deep in relief. You didn't know being mad at him was something he'd be sad with, and yet there he is lying beneath you, blowing a big enough exhale to ruffle the hair from his forehead. 

Miguel takes your face into one hand. Your eyelashes flutter against his palm like a shuddering butterfly wing as you lean into his touch, more than happy to offer him whatever relief it is he needs while enjoying in the feeling of being close to him. 

"You haven't kissed me all day," he says quietly. "I thought I must've pissed you off, 'cos you're more piranha than girl sometimes, but you weren't acting any weirder than usual beyond that." 

You roll your eyes and hide your face in his hand. He's kidding around, and his thumb rubs over your skin tenderly to prove it. 

"You're not mad?" he asks again. 

You kiss his palm. You kiss his wrist, happy when he knows the moves like a well practised dance, his fingers sliding behind your ear to steady you as you dip down for a kiss. 

It's a good kiss. Warm mouths vying for one another but trying not to seem desperate, Miguel's hand behind your ear growing harsher as you pull a breath against his lips. You press your hand into his pec too hard. 

"Sorry," you murmur, stealing another fast kiss and pulling away. 

You barely feel how uncomfortably you're skewed, you're that happy. 

"Is there a reason you wouldn't kiss me?" he asks. 

"I'm, like, always the first one to initiate and I kinda got it in my head maybe you didn't want me kissing you that much…" You grin at him. "The whole time you're playing twenty questions with me wishing I'd lay one on you. You know you have a voice for more than yelling at people, right?" 

Miguel gets this look in his eyes then, rolling his jaw a touch at the supposed audacity of what you've said. The tip of his tongue works at his canine tooth, his eyebrows rising as he asks, "Oh, is that how you're talking to me tonight?" 

"How else should I talk to you, Miguel?" 

He doesn't bother with swiftness nor a show of strength as he rolls you onto your back. He settles above you with measured movements, a pleased smirk playing on his lips now. His eyes are dark, pupils wide as dimes.

"With compassion, mi cielo," he says.

"Have some sympathy for me," you implore him, wrapping your arms around his waist. It diffuses the tension, though neither party minds, evidenced by Miguel's easy relaxation and your ecstatic mood. Happiness bubbles up like carbonated bubbles, your chest awake with a fizzing excitement. "You really thought I was mad 'cos I wasn't kissing you?" 

He avoids the question. "You think you're the only one who initiates?" he asks genuinely. 

"Why didn't you kiss me, then? When you came home?" 

"Your face was wet." 

"And after when we were eating dinner?" 

Miguel smiles at you. No sarcasm, no stress. He leans down to kiss you chastely, pulling away to say, "I thought you were definitely mad at that point." 

"A kiss would've made me feel better." 

You realise how quiet your bubble of the world really is for that handful of seconds, Miguel holding himself above you, your hands loose behind the broad stretch of his back. 

"You know you can just ask me, yeah? You don't have to worry and wonder how I'm feeling. I'll tell you how I'm feeling if you want to know." 

"Cariño, I always want to know," he says. 

You breathe out slowly. Miguel takes your face into his hand for another kiss, or so you think —he pinches your cheek. 

"And I always want to kiss you," he says quickly, climbing off of you. 

"Where are you going?" 

"I need a drink." 

A break from sincerity. You don't mind that he needs to walk it off as long as he comes back. You stretch out on your back and cover your face with your hands. 

"People think I'm the weird one," you say into them.

A hand clamps around your ankle and tugs you down. You shriek with startled laughter and climb away from him as he lands on top of you, a cold water bottle held to your bare neck. 

"No!" you laugh. 

Miguel laughs in tandem and presses it further down. 

"I really am going to be mad at you if you don't quit!" You yelp as condensation wets your collar. "Miguel!"

"You're a wimp," he says with a bright smile. 

You push him with some enhanced super strength and manage to get the water bottle off of your neck, but Miguel makes up for any differences in strength with enthusiasm and muscle alike, shoving you down. 

You're laughing and pleading at the same time, "Please, Miguel, stop, it's sooooo cold." 

Miguel laughs, dropping the bottle somewhere above your head, covering the cooled stripe of your skin with his big hand. The sound is warming enough, but you let him sweat for a second, content to be doted on. 

He gives you a once over. "I'll kiss you first more," he promises. 

"Starting now, please, handsome. Mi cielo." 

Miguel groans and digs his arms under your back. You don't fight it as he drags you back to the top of the bed. In fact, you quite enjoy it. You lay back to receive his sorry pecks and his all encompassing hug, forgetting what you'd been worried about one damp crescent moon of a kiss at a time.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!

#miguel and spidergirl reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fanfic #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara drabble #miguel o’hara scenario #miguel o’hara blurb #miguel o’hara oneshot #spider-man: across the spider-verse #spider-man: across the spider-verse spoilers #spider-man: across the spider-verse fanfiction #across the spider-verse spoilers #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse spoilers #spiderman across the spider-verse spoilers #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara x fem!reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara fanfic #miguel ohara fic #miguel ohara drabble #miguel ohara scenario

[itsjuliak5]

Little Things I Loved from Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse:

Mrs. Chen being completely unfazed by the Spot. Mrs. Chen showing up in general.

The legos!

Spider-Punk cheering on MayDay; “Kid’s an anarchist,” “Take a crap on the establishment, I like it.”

There’s a part where one of the Doctor Octopuses says “Hi Peter” and I’m 99.9% sure it was Alfred Molina’s voice from “No Way Home”

The other little scenes/pictures from the original Spider-Man movies with Tobey and the ones with Andrew.

Ben Reilly narrating everything he does. (Shoutout to Andy Samberg)

Peter Parkedcar

Donald Glover as the Prowler!

Miguel’s suit has little glitches on them, or like static.

There was a Spider-Man holding a hockey stick.

Dino-Spider-Man!!

“Well maybe you should just get off the kid’s ass.”

Jefferson Morales calling Gwen “emo.”

Peter using his bath robe as a cape.

Mayday shooting a web at the phone to take a picture of her and Peter.

#there's a lot i liked but those are just some of the the little things #spider-man: across the spider-verse spoilers #spider-man: across the spider-verse #across the spider-verse spoilers #spider-man #miles morales #gwen stacy #spider-gwen #ghost spider #spider-punk #peter b. parker #mayday parker #jefferson morales #ben reilly #miguel o'hara #mrs. chen #venom #marvel

[starleska]

starrrr, i beg of you please give us more spot x reader content for us starving and possibly thirsty spot simps (´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)

bless you anon, for flying a flag for all of us fans of The Spot who are unrepentantly horny and have no idea what to do with it 😂💖 of course, i'd be happy to oblige 😉 i'm quite torn between more pleasant spicy x Reader scenarios and the darker, yandere stuff...so let's have a bit of a mix, eh?

18+ below the cut!!! cws for sex, masturbation, BDSM, choking, humiliation, and weird sexy portal-hole shenanigans!

The Spot x Reader NSFW headcanons

⚫ The Spot is a very tactile man. before his transformation, The Spot was always the the type of person to be touching things: fidgeting with his fingers and playing with items at his desk. however, despite his self-reported good looks he was quite unlucky in love, and longed to have a partner he could touch and hold and squeeze. when you come along, The Spot just can't keep his hands off you. he's always pressing his body up against you and burying his face into your hair (although he has to be careful not to accidentally push you through his face-hole). more than anything he loves to massage you, and he makes good use of those large, strong hands to make sure every inch of you is pampered and relaxed 😉

⚫ not only is he tactile: The Spot is vocal too. when he presses you up against the wall and holds your arms above your head with a single palm, he mumbles feverish praise into your ear - or, if the mood strikes him, whispers of how filthy you are for wanting him so badly. it's shocking how easily that sweet voice of his can dip into this mean, sinister register which leaves you trembling and unable to look at his 'face' - but he makes you anyway. depending on the act The Spot is always keening or groaning, making sounds that seem like they physically can't be contained by his impossible body. you learn quickly that massaging different spots can produce different sounds - and when you hit one just right, you can even make The Spot scream 🥵

⚫ you bet The Spot knows how to use his holes to his advantage. like any red-blooded scientist, the first thing The Spot thought of following his transformation (once the initial terror wore off) was the sexual possibilities of being able to place your body at multiple angles in space. he first experimented with jacking himself off through a portal, but soon graduated to kinkier situations, like choking himself by tightening a portal around his neck, and stretching the edges of his holes only to find the experience pleasurable. it doesn't take long for The Spot to realise you are turned on by portal sex, and this power goes to his head very quickly. soon you are The Spot's greatest experiment: a "Living subject in transdimensional sexual intercourse," as he calls it. you find yourself spoiled by the pull of those portals, the hands-free bondage he's able to wield with so much ease...and The Spot seems to grow a little more hungry for that power every single day 👀

#the spot x reader #the spot #dr. jonathan ohnn #spider-man: across the spider-verse spoilers #spider-man: across the spider-verse #spider-man #starleskasks #starleskawrites #naughty tag #suggestive #the spot x you

[prokopetz]

Dumb media interpretation #137: the central plot device of Across the Spider-Verse is just what happens when you live in a multiverse whose metaphysical framework is isomorphic with early 21st Century intellectual property law.

#media #movies #cartoons #animation #comics #marvel #spider-man #spider-man: across the spider-verse #across the spider-verse #spider-verse #intellectual property #copyright #trademark #spider-man spoilers #spider-man: across the spider-verse spoilers #across the spider-verse spoilers #spider-verse spoilers #spoilers

[daybreaklynx]

this is your warning for ATSV SPOILERS (FANART)! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

quick sketches. this design is so cool.

#atsv spoilers #atsv spoiler #spider man: across the spider verse #spider-man: across the spider-verse spoilers #spiderverse spoilers #atsv #atsv fanart #miles morales fanart #miles morales #marvel #marvel fanart #spider-man #art #fanart #artist #spoilers in tags #prowler #prowler miles

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018) vs. Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse (2023)

(click for better quality)

#spider man: into the spider-verse #spider man: across the spider-verse #spider-man: across the spiderverse #into the spider-verse #across the spider-verse #across the spiderverse #itsv #atsv #miles morales #peter b parker #aaron davis #gifs #gifset #my gifs #mygifs #my edits #across the spider-verse spoilers #spider-man: across the spider-verse spoilers #spider-verse spoilers #earth-1610 #earth-42

[dragonsruby]

Major spoilers for Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse under the cut.

In the same vein as Kilometers Morales, it just occurred to me that Earth-42 Miles Morales could also be known as Miles Prowler (Miles per hour,) and now my brain is beating me over the head.

#spider-man: across the spider-verse #spider-man #miles morales #spider man: across the spider verse #spider-man: across the spider-verse spoilers #spider man spoilers #across the spiderverse #across the spider verse spoilers #spoilers #spider verse spoilers #the prowler #“the pun game in these films is incredible whether intentional or not I swear” #atsv #atsv spoilers

[princessmonochxkeme]

♱˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖑𝖚𝖘𝖙 ˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚♱

𝕻𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: Miguel O'hara x fem! reader

𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: On a story New York night, you bond with a handsome stranger in a library (over comics of course). Moments later, you're attacked on your way home, saved by none other than Spiderman. He'd been watching you since you left, and plans on doing so all night long.....

𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 : 5.3k words

𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: S-M-U-T !!! NSFW !!! BARK BARK WOOF WOOF !!! lol but fr-- voyerism, choking, age gap, oral (fem receiving), pussy play, nipple play, overstim, fangs/bloodsucking, pussy stretching, breeding (kinda)... I think that's everything. just, DO NOT interact if you're a minor lol.

𝕰𝖙𝖈.: Whelp, I'm despicable lol...and so are you if you read this and enjoy it ;))) Of note, Miggy is 30-35 in this story (that's how I view his Spiderverse character), and you're a first year law student (23-26 y/o).

**THIS IS A ONESHOT BUT I'M CONTINUEING THE SERIES ON A03 **

Lastly,-- there's one violent-ish scene but its pretty short. Happy reading <<;<3333

˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

Universe 1999J: 9:02 PM, Queens, Nueva York

The storm boomed in the background, thunder echoing through the halls of the library. You were in your early 20s, in the most exciting city in the world…spending your Friday night in a library. You’d been there studying for hours. A month into law school and you already had 2 exams on Monday (and you were less than prepared).. Isn’t this the life… you thought to yourself dryly. The most recent bout of lightning caused a power to surge, which you took as a sign to leave soon. You packed up your notes, and decided to check out the comics before you leave. You’d recently gotten into Marvel comics-- you loved the linework of the art, the vibrant colors, and the simple yet exciting stories. Maybe in a different life you’d be illustrating your own books, or better yet, protecting a city in a sexy spandex suit... Sigh.

It’d been a while since you read a Spiderman story-- there were too many to catch up on so you gave up. P….Q….R…. you say to yourself, scanning the isles. You finally reach the shelf you’re looking for, but some man is blocking it. You immediately notice how large he is-- more than a foot taller than you with broad strapping shoulders. It was ironic, but he looked like he could’ve been a comic hero. Nevertheless, he was focused on whatever he was reading and didn’t notice your presence. “Hi, excuse me…” you say quietly “Do you mind if I look at the Spider-Man comics for a sec?” He looked at you, subtly embarrassed.. Getting a good look at his face you noticed he was gorgeous: Caramel brown skin, dark wavy hair, and perfectly chiseled features….not, not bad at all…. “I’m sorry, go right ahead.” He kindly apologized. “Thanks...have any good recommendations?” You replied, hoping to prolong your convo with this DILF-y stranger. “Actually, the one I’m reading is pretty good! I’ve read it about 100 times but it never gets old.” He smiled and handed you the book. “Spiderman 2099….” you read the title out loud. “Cool, I think I played a PS4 game with him once.” He rolled his eyes at your response, flashing his white teeth with a playful smile. “That’s how everyone knows him. OGs learned about him the real way.” he said, tapping the book. “Ohhh brother, whatever you say old man…” you smile back deviously. He looked 35 at most, but still noticeably older than your 24. “Please, I’m not that old” He chuckled back at you. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but was he flirting right now? “SHHH!” The librarian looked in your direction, glaring at the both of you. “Sorry!” you mouthed back at her. “Anyways..” he whispered “I hope you enjoy the comic, you have good taste.” You thanked him and walked away, preparing to check out the book.

You ended up leaving the library a bit later than you intended. It was almost 9:30 and you still had a 30 minute subway ride home. There were other, closer libraries to campus, but this one had beautiful marble architecture and was open later-- shame it was in a crappy part of town. Born and raised in Nueva York, you knew how to handle yourself at night: music on, head down, “fuck off” is the default response. You begin the familiar route to the station, scrolling through a thai menu for the place near your apartment. “Larb gai…basil stir fry…mang-” within seconds someone pulled you into an alley, slamming you against the wall. You’d dropped your umbrella, and rain started soaking you. “Don’t try to fucking scream cuz no one will hear you. If you try any funny shit, I’ll blow your pretty head off.” the man whispered in your ear. You felt the cool metallic barrel press into your temple, and with a click you knew the gun was ready to fire. “What do you want….” You manage to say. “Drop the bag” he commanded. You comply, removing your backpack and dropping it to the ground. “There’s nothing in there I’m broke” You tried to plea. “SHUT UP.” He retorted, keeping a gun aimed at you while scouring through your things. After stripping your wallet of any cards and cash he turns his sights back to you, scanning your body for valuables. “Drop the phone, and take your fucking sneakers off” “...What?” “FUCKING DO IT OR I SWEAR--” he screamed. What happened next was a blur.

Out of nowhere, a masked man slammed the robber's skull into the ground, twisting his arm back in an unnatural angle. The sudden struggle caused the gun to go off, making you scream for cover. Although it was dark, you could see the man was wearing a black and red suit with a webbed pattern. ‘W-Who are you?” You tried to ask. The masked figure looked at you before returning his attention to the scum below him. The robber tried in vain to wiggle free, only making things worse. With his back turned to you, the masked figure hunched over the robber, biting him in the neck. He choked on his own blood, twitching in the mangled position. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck… You think to yourself as the ordeal unfolds. For good measure, the masked man shoots webbed material over the robber, ensuring he can't move. Paralyzed in shock, you stare at the person who’d just saved you. He grabbed your stolen items, and reached a hand out to return them to you…but you were frozen. The suit, the webs, the insignia on his chest….you must’ve been losing your mind. “Are you….” you started“....Spiderman?” He finished awkwardly. “Well I was going to say real…but yeah that works, too.” You replied, finally grabbing your things. “I…um….thank you...” You said sheepishly. “Thank me later, we need to leave” he said firmly. “Wait what--” You start as the sirens in the background louder. “Hold onto me unless you want to go to explain this to the cops.” Reluctantly, you grab onto him before he shoots a web into the air. Within seconds he lifts the both of you up to the top of a random building, away from the police. “Sorry to be so hasty back there, are you ok?” He looks at you concerned. Your mind still hasn’t fully processed what’s just happened.

“...Uhhh….yeah...sure….”. You start. “Just to make sure I have everything right, someone just tried to rob me at gunpoint, Spiderman is real…and is you…and you just saved me….and now I’m on top of a 12 story building in the rain?” “...sounds about right.” he confirmed. “Well, at least I’m not concussed…” you say dryly, eliciting a chuckle from him. “I have so many questions but, I don’t have the mental energy to ask right now….” “Understood.” he replied, relieved he wouldn’t have to explain himself. “Ok I do have one question….can you take me to the Subway station? I just want to go home…” “Of course, but honestly if you’re up for it, I could probably get you home faster myself.” he replied. “By…swinging through the city in a storm?” you replied skeptically. “Well….yeah. You're pretty easy to carry.” he chuckled. “Plus you don’t really notice the rain when you’re swinging.” “Hmm…I don’t know….you seem a little old to be Spiderman…what if you drop me?” You cross your arms squinting at him. He was admittedly huge and towered over you, but he sounded too old to be Peter Parker….and in a strange way, his voice sounded familiar. You couldn’t pin it to anyone in particular, but you’ve definitely heard it somewhere. “Old? Please, I’m not that old…” He muttered. With that phrase, you recognized him as the man from the library. Your eyes widened as you realized this, but you fixed your face before he could notice. “Also, trust me, or don’t. But at the very least you’ll need my help getting back to the ground.” He continued. Shit, he was right. The more you mulled it over, this was a rare opportunity! How many people could say they’d swung through the city with Spider-Man? Besides, an uber home was laughably expensive, and you really didn’t want to wait on the subway with more potential creeps. “What the hell…let’s do it. But I swear to god if you drop me….” You hooked your arms around his neck, while one of his strong arms tightly wrapped around your waist. “Whatever you do, don’t let go…” And just like that you were off...

In the beginning you clenched your eyes shut, screaming in fear. But after a couple minutes, you got used to the sensation. He was right, you were going so fast you couldn’t feel the rain. You opened your eyes, regretfully noticing how high up you were, and silently buried your face in his neck. “It’s ok….I got you….” reassured you. He held you a little tighter so you’d feel secure. Maybe it was the adrenaline, but you couldn’t help but think how…romantic this all was? A tall, handsome, mysterious hero, whisking you through the New York skyline, chest to chest…You dreamily smiled the rest of the ride home, and as promised, he had you there in minutes. He gently lowered down onto your fire-escape, which was conveniently placed outside your bedroom window. “There you are…safe and sound.” he said kindly. “Thank you so much! I don’t have the words to express how much you’ve helped me tonight…” “Don’t worry about it kid, just try not to walk alone so late at night. You never know who’s watching…” He replied. He was happy he was there to protect you this time, but didn’t want you putting yourself in harm's way again. A cute girl like you could easily attract trouble. “Yeah…” You say biting your lip. “I’m lucky you were at the library tonight, Spidey.” “I- What do you- What library….” He stumbled. You couldn’t see it, but his face turned bright red under his mask. “It was pretty obvious.” you laughed sweetly. “Your suit looks just like the one in the comic you ‘recommended’, but your voice really sealed the deal. Tell me I’m wrong.” You smirked at him. Sighing in defeat, he removed his mask, revealing the handsome face you saw earlier. “Alright, alright, you caught me nena.” He confessed. “Nena?” you questioned. “Yes, nena.” He teased. “...and you can call me Miguel.” He said warmly, looking down at your lips. You notice this and move your gaze to his, gradually leaning in to kiss each other. You rested your palms on his defined chest while he caressed your cheek with his hand. The kiss was velvety and sweet, the perfect ending to this disastrous night. “Goodnight, Miguel.” you smiled up at him. You open your window to enter the apartment, and by the time you turn around he’s already gone. You plop your bag on the floor and begin to shed your wet clothes. Fortunately the books weren’t water damaged since you wrapped them in a plastic shopping bag-- a habit you formed after a different stormy New York night. Exhausted, you take a hot shower to decompress. You think about a lot of things, but mostly him--, how he got his powers, where he came from, and if you’d ever see him again… little do you know he never left.

˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

Universe 1999J: 11:06 PM, Brooklyn, Nueva York

Freshly moisturized, you exit the bathroom with a cloud of steam. You rummage around your laundry looking for something to sleep in. Normally you like to keep the place tidy, but you were not in the mood to fold right now. You settle on a white t-shirt with red trim, and one of your many lacy black thongs, drowsily flopping on your bed. You tried to fall asleep, listening to the panging raindrops and rolling thunder….but you can’t. The storm drones on as you replay the night’s events in your head. The alley, the robber, the gun, Spiderman.....Spiderman. You really met a living comic book character today. He was so much bigger than you expected-- what was he, 6’8? 6’9? In the comics he seemed scrawnier, in a cute, boy next door way. THIS Spiderman was a pure beefcake. Although he was friendly, you were surprised to see such a statuesque man in a public library. A man with that jawline should be running for office, starring in movies…but he wasn’t. To think he held you in his arms just an hour ago, whisking you through the city…kissing you on your fire escape…Your body ran warm thinking about how handsome he looked: his sprawling back, powerful biceps, juicy quads, all covered in black webbed fibers…You slowly graze your hand over your panties, while your other hand squeezes your breasts. You move your panties to the side, and let out a soft, breathy moan as you begin to explore the sticky wetness between your legs. The dramatic flickering background fades as you play with yourself. “Ahh-…” you rasp through your aching lips… But between gasps, you swear you see spider man's silhouette standing at your fire escape. Startled, you hastily move to your window…ultimately disappointed when no one’s there. Any sane person would shut their curtains, down a xanax, and try to forget the traumas of tonight. But right now, you were anything but sane. You became irrationally horny at the thought of Miguel watching you fuck yourself. Your mind flooded with thoughts of him, strong enough to rip through steel and asphalt, lusting for your body behind a sheet of glass. Lulled by your unrelenting imagination, you stick a second finger in your gushing hole. Lust coursed through you like a siren luring your prey. You closed your eyes and moaned as you rolled your nipples in little circles. The little buds start to harden, peaking through your t-shirt. Once more, you creep one of your hands slowly down your taught stomach before stroking your panties…a growing wet circle already formed on the cloth--all for him. With hooded eyes, you pump your fingers in and out of your soaking pussy… “Fuck…Miguel…” you moan in a trance. Crazy as it sounded, you desperately wanted him to watch come undone...

….and he was. “Fuck…” he unintentionally echoed, watching you in the pouring shadows. He originally told himself he’d watch you fall asleep from afar, JUST to make sure you’re safe-- then he’d leave. But if he was being honest, he knew you were safe when he dropped you off (albeit stupid for fingering yourself with uncovered windows). For starters, you lived on the top-floor in an off campus studio apartment, plus he’d watched you check to make sure the front door was locked. At this point, we was aware his intentions were self-serving. He thought you were cute when you bumped into him at the library, but after the fire-escape kiss he wanted more of you. He wanted to ask you out on a proper date, get to know you better, old-fashioned courting ...but he wasn’t sure how--there were just so many variables to consider. He wasn’t from your dimension, and once his mission ended there wouldn’t be a justifiable reason to stay. It was already bad enough that a civilian found out his identity, and the more time he spent with you the more your life was endangered. Everything about his infatuation was problematic. But then he thought to himself…were things really that bad? There’s no spiderman in this universe, he’s just a myth here. You were a smart girl, he could probably explain things to you…right? “My name is Miguel O’Hara, I’m the leader of an interdimensional Spiderman force that’s keeping the fabric of the universe together…don’t tell anyone.” Pondering different hypothetical confessions, he knew this pursuit was stupid at best. Coming to his senses, he prepared to return to HQ, that is….until you started your performance.

The sight of you pleasing your supple body awoke something primal in him-- his eyes glared crimson and fangs unwittingly sprouted. As if this vision couldn’t become more delicious, he was able to hear you moan his name with his superhuman senses. The longer he stared, the larger the aching tent in his suit grew. He wanted to taste every inch of your body-- feel your perky nipples on his rough tongue. He wished his thick fingers were sliding in and out of you….better yet, he wanted to watch you unravel he stretched your pretty, wet pussy, filling you inch by inch. Reaching his limit, he immediately rushed to your fire escape. But of course, lighting had to strike in that instance, nearly revealing his stalking gaze. He was able to climb to the roof of your building, hiding just in time for you to come to the window…but it was a close call. Way to close. During the next eruption of thunder he returned to his original vantage point, far enough to remain undetected, but close enough to keep an eye on you. He was sure he frightened you given the events that transpired earlier that night…but he was wrong? Not only were you fingering yourself again, you were aimlessly looking his way. He knew you couldn’t see him through the turbulent darkness, but was stunned at the implication: you knew he was watching-- and you wanted him to. You were putting on a private show just for him, one that he refused to miss….

…You continued staring into the distance, fingering yourself for your deviant admirer-- at this point you were just as perverted as him. You bit your pouty lower lip, turned on by the gushy noises your body made for him…if only he could hear. “Come back…” you whimpered, looking into the stormy nothingness outside. As the thunder continued to rage, the lightning revealed another towering silhouette on your fire escape. You were so horny by now you thought you hallucinated him. You’d never been this down bad before, and you were still running off adrenaline. Ignoring what you saw, you moaned louder, slipping another finger into your spongey warmth. You could barely keep your eyes open as pleasure radiated throughout you…until lighting stroke again, and the body--his body was still there. Chest heaving, you sit up, crawling across your bed to open the window. The lights were off, but you could make out more details of him with every move you made--the red of his suit, contours of his muscular frame, and lastly, a bold spider in the middle of a webbed suit. For a second, you stare up at his towering frame, admiring his imposing presence. Now that you were closer, you noticed his warm brown eyes were now a piercing red shade, undressing you through the glass of your window-- He was frighteningly handsome. With a click, you unlatch the window and open it as wide as you can. You expect his entrance to be awkward given his size, but he moves with an unexpected quickness that makes you fall back on your elbows. “Long time no see..” you mutter “Likewise…” he returns with a smirk.

You watch him as he grabs your towel off the desk chair, drying his face and hair. To your surprise, you hear muffled laughter coming from his direction. “What’s so funny?” You asked.. You were at the edge of your bed, on your knees with crossed arms. He threw the towel down, smirking as he approached you. “You are.” he replied smuggly. He placed an index finger under your chin, and tenderly traced your lips with his thumb. Forcing you to look up at his crimson gaze, he wrapped his other arm around your waist, drawing you closer to him. You clumsily put your hands on his pecs for stability (but also to feel for yourself). “Tsk tsk tsk…. I save you from imminent danger tonight, and not even 2 hours later you’re letting a stranger into your apartment. Que tonta….” he teased. “Oops….” you say with an insincere smile.

He moved the hand caressing your chin to the nape of your neck, gripping a handful of your hair. With gentle swiftness, he forces your head back, exposing the length of your neck. You inhaled sharply as he grazed the delicate skin with his lips…then his fangs.

“Do you have any idea what I could do to you?” he mumbles into you, smiling. You had no clue, but desperately wanted to find out. His words coursed through you like electricity.

“...Want a bite?” You half joked. A part of you didn’t believe he would, but in the back of your mind you were terrified….it was exhilarating.

“Don’t test me nena…” With that he swirled his tongue, leaving velvety kisses along your jugular. You let out a repressed moan, melting into his dark embrace-- and then you felt them. A stream of blood trickled down your clavicle as his fangs plunged into you. Your tense body was too shocked to release a scream, and your pupils dilated at the sensation. Despite your haziness, you noticed he wasn’t actually drinking you….no, this felt much different. A stinging warmth radiated through your throat, then the rest of your body like a shot of whiskey. It burned through you in the best way possible, and disoriented you all the same…”what is this?”, you thought, “....what is HE?” Your senses ebbed and flowed--the pounding New York rain melding into his intense grip. Mere seconds felt like an eternity as he poured his hell into you, but you weren’t scared. If anything…you liked it? There was no time to ponder your questionable decision making-- when he was done, you were an intoxicated, tingling mess.

You finally look at him again, the lower half of his face red with your blood. Subconsciously, you bite your lower lip turned on by his brutish appearance. Snaking your arms around his neck, you passionately kiss him, a drunken smile forming against his lips . He follows your lead without an ounce of hesitancy. Your kisses evolved from urgent, to desperate, then feverish, his tongue battling yours for dominance. You got a taste of your neck blood during the exchange, savoring the metallic flavor. Hungrily, you bit his lower lip, getting a delicious grunt out of him before pulling away. You stared at each other with restless eyes and parted lips .

“Why did you stop?” he asked with frustrated curiosity.

“Because…” you start as you reposition yourself. You lean back on your elbows, arching your chest chest up, and opening your legs to him“… I want you to taste the rest of me.” you drag your hands up the sides of your torso before grazing fingertips over your nipples. He let your words linger for a second…meeting your coy gaze with a grin.

“Careful what you ask for, Nena….I’ll ruin you” he says with his last iota of restraint.

“So then ruin me, Spidey…” you taunt him. Right now, your body needed him in ways your mind couldn’t explain. Your eyes widen as claws grow out the tips of his hand, as if he’d read your mind. Before you can process his mutation, he tears your shirt clean in half-- your pretty tits bouncing out to greet him. “Oh-” you blush trying in vain to cover them, but Miguel won’t have it.

“Move your hands…” he commanded darkly, pinning your hands at either side of your head. Fully vulnerable to him, he immediately starts devouring you. He swirls his tongue over your nipples, licking, sucking, and them like his last meal. His lips feel heavenly as they savor your tender chest….Growling into you, he takes is time kissing a line down your stomach…..lower…and lower…stopping right at your soaking panties. With finesse, the lacy thong met the same fate as your shirt. “Much better” he said matter-of-factly.

You were now fully exposed to him, so vulnerable to his touch and every whim-- exactly what he wanted. He hooked his arms under your thighs, hungrily pulling you towards his devilish mouth. He relished at the sight of your luscious body, trapped in an explicit pose. Legs on his shoulders, he started slow…his tongue licking a line down your wet entrance. He groaned knowing your juices were meant for him, licking your opening over and over. After this initial tasting, he became even more depraved-- You were so sweet, and so deliciously reactive. He unhooked one of his arms so he could spread your pretty pink hole open…it was so beautiful. You both let out a loud moan as his tongue plunged into your sweetness. He was in a trance, bobbing his head viscously between your thighs, causing your shaky hand to grip his hair. Your touch was a catalyst, further igniting his animalistic need for you. More, more, more…..nothing would ever be enough. He started to rise, pressing your thighs back to your ears. With this new angle, he could push his tongue even further in you, taking you to new highs. “M-Miguel…Oh god….” you struggled. ‘How cute’ he smiled to himself. Burrowing his nose into your clit, he’d gotten you to cum in his mouth (exactly what he wanted). He didn’t stop until you were a shivering mess from the overstimulation. He finally removed his mouth, anxious to see your post-cum body. To his immense pleasure, you were a mess-- skin flush, tits heaving, eyes barely open. The bed sank as he crawled over you, his body resting between your legs. He kissed you slow and steady this time-- giving you a chance to savor your own juices. “Open your eyes nena…we’re not finished”.

Obeying, you daze up at your tangled bodies: his forehead on yours, his arms caging you, his bulge pressing into your sensitive center….but he still had on that goddamned suit. You tug the fabric covering his abs, silently telling him to take it off. He obliged, making the suit melt off in a wave of pixels. Being skin to skin, centimeters under him, it was the best view in the world. He looked like a renaissance sculpture and was easily the most attractive person you’d been with. You eagerly drag your fingertips down rippled core, tugging down on the elastic of his compression shorts. It's a bit of a struggle since he’s so huge, but eventually, it plops down on your stomach: thick, 9 inches, perfectly brown, curved, and leaking pre-cum. Without realizing it, a bewildered expression washed over your face-- where was this supposed to go????? You hear him chuckle lowly as he flips you on your stomach with ease. He raises your hips to his, using his other hand to stretch your back into a perfect slope. Next, he starts a trail of soft wet kisses down your spine, causing you to shiver with each contact. “Fuck you’re so cute….” He whispers into your ear. He bites it as he curls his fingers into your sticky slit--forcing a loud moan out of you. “I haven’t even fucked you and I have you like this…I can’t wait to stretch you out princesa…” . His thick fingers pumping you, his warm breath on your neck, his low seductive voice-- it was all too much for you. “...Please Miguel…please….” “Please what? You’re a big girl use your words” he taunted, but you couldn’t take it anymore. “Fuck me! Stretch me out!” you yelled out desperately. He took his fingers out your pussy and started pumping them in your mouth, in and out…..in and out. Once you licked him clean, he spread your ass wide-- exposing your tight, wet, aching opening. He slowly dragged his dick along your slit before finally sliding the tip in. “Mmm” he said while you gasped. FUCK you needed more….He continued teasing you, making you wetter and wetter until he savagely thrust the whole thing in you. His rhythm starts off slow, giving you time to adjust to the fullness. You felt SO good clenching around his throbbing cock. The image of him stretching you, the squishy sounds you made, the way your ass jiggled with his thrusts---you made him absolutely feral. He wrapped a clawed hand around your throat, choking you as he pounded into your hole. Your moans became animalistic as he squeezed the out of you, owning you. You tried (and failed) to maintain your arch as he thrust into your g-spot over and over “AH Miguel, fuck….” you said deliriously. “Not yet nena, Fuck not yet…” he grunted. With superhuman speed, he flipped you on your back again. This time you were in a mating press with your hands pinned above your head. He grunted several obscenities while sliding back into you. The clapping of his thrusts competed with the raging thunder outside-- droplets of rain mimicking the sweat on your bodies. When things couldn’t feel any better, he started rubbing on your rock hard clit, crushing his lips against yours to swallow your moan. “Fuck Nena…can I--” “Yes, fuck…please cum in me…” you greedily finished his sentence. With a final sweaty thrust, you finished together. He collapsed on top of you, a panting, blissful mess. He released your hands, allowing you to rub his broad back and shoulders as you kissed.

Catching his breath, he slid out of you and came to your side. He tenderly moved your body towards him, making you his little spoon-- the beast had swiftly morphed into a teddy bear. “So Spidey…do you live far?,” you joked. “You could say that…” He smirked warmly. “Could I trouble you for a place to sleep tonight?” “Maybe…but you should probably sleep on couch. Could be dangerous to let a ‘strange man’ sleep in my bed.” you teased him. Smiling down at you, he caressed your cheek and began to kiss you again. You did this for a while, eventually drifting off in his arms. “Good night Nena…” he said once you’d dozed off already, affectionately kissing your forehead. You both slept peacefully that night, Miguel sleeping better than he had in years.

˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

The next morning, you woke up naked…and alone. Disappointed, you got out of bed to piece together what had happened, did you make last night up? Fortunately, you noticed the scraps of your thong and t shirt on the floor--last night was definitely real. You got up and looked in your mirror, analyzing your body. You longingly grazed over the hickies he left all over your chest-- your favorite were the bite marks on your neck. Last night was like something out of a movie, the most interesting thing that ever happened to you…..and it was over. You didn’t have a phone number, social media, hell you didn’t even know his last name. He just came into your life, gave you the best dick of your life, and bounced. Typical, back to Earth you went. Recalibrating to your normal boring life, you start to get ready for your day…when you notice something on your desk…a gift bag? You reach inside to pull out a brand new thong and t shirt, a rose, and Plan B with a sticky note on it “Sorry nena, I’ll be more careful next time. Thanks for last night. - M.” ….Next time? It was a short note…but you endlessly looped those words in your brain. With this, a small smile crept on your face. You continued your morning routine, interrupted with thoughts of your next Miguel encounter…..

˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

Ahhhhh that was my first fanfic! Hope yall liked it :))) PLEASE comment and provide feedback (I'm kinda a slut for comments lol). Anyways, shameless Ao3 plug if you want to support the rest of this series: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48369409/chapters/121995508#workskin

Bye for now xxx

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fanfic #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara drabble #miguel o’hara scenario #miguel o’hara blurb #miguel o’hara oneshot #spider-man: across the spider-verse #spider-man: across the spider-verse spoilers #spider-man: across the spider-verse fanfiction #across the spider-verse spoilers #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse spoilers #spiderman across the spider-verse spoilers #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara x fem!reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara fanfic #miguel ohara fic #miguel ohara drabble #miguel ohara blurb #miguel and spidergirl reader

[mysticwayfinder]

Miguel: “Miles, we can’t let you go stop a canon event!”

Miles: “My ability to outsmart all of you is gonna become your next canon event if you don’t let me go.”

#spider-man #spider-man: across the spider-verse spoilers #spider-man: across the spider-verse #miles morales #miguel o'hara

[orhelponefaintingrobin]

There are many, many, many reasons I loved 'Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse', but the thing that's going to keep it in my mind forever was right back at the start, just at the end of the Gwen prologue section. The moment where, after everything's calmed down, she comes face to face with her father, finally finds herself at the point where she can do nothing but tell him the truth about her. So, she does, and she begs him to listen to her, to see the reality of the situation. And he doesn't. He won't.

Years ago, Lindsay Ellis made a fantastic video about 'Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2', and at one point, talking about Gamora and Nebula's relationship (over footage of the bit with the big minigun thing), she argues that 'maybe you haven't been in a literal fight like this with a family member, but you've probably been in a fight that felt like this'. The moment Captain Stacy starts reading Gwen her rights, as she begs him to just listen and see her as she is, that's where I went.

I had not, in fact, been a superhero under suspicion of murder being arrested by my father. But I've been where Gwen was standing in that seen, watching the disappointment and affection drain out of a parent's face as I tried to say everything I could to make them take a step back from their own frame of reference, and see me. That the film has a lot of background details implying that Gwen is trans (and that being one of the few things I'd picked up on going in) made me relate to her in that moment even more.

This was a film about parent/child relationships at a time where my own feels utterly decimated, and my god, it hurt to watch in the best, most cathartic way.

#Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse Spoilers #Spider-Verse Spoilers #Across the Spider-Verse Spoilers #spider man across the spider verse #Spider-Man #Trans #transphobia//

[luveline]

spoilers for spider-man: across the spider-verse below

please don’t read any further if you are avoiding spoilers

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

miguel hops dimensions expecting a new family, and a new life. he’s not expecting you —featuring a tired miguel and his confused but adoring wife. or, miguel gets the comfort he so desperately needs. requested here. fem!reader, 2.5k

tw. gun mention/no graphic scenes

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Miguel seems different when he comes home that night. You've loved him for years, you know his face. He looks slightly younger and older at the same time, impossibly so. He looks like he has bad news and he doesn't want to tell you. Something harrowing. How else can you explain his expression? 

You stand up from the dinner table. "Hey," you say gently. "Is there something wrong?" 

He isn't convincing when he answers, "What? Uh, no. Nothing's wrong." 

"Something looks wrong." 

You step in front of him and lift your chin. Usually, he'd look down with a smirk, or at the very least a smile, but he seems weary. You lift your hand to his cheek, pinching it between your fingers without malice. 

"Smile, handsome. You have a lovely smile." 

He smiles. His lips part just slightly. "You… you really love me. You're happy." 

"We're happy," you correct. "Me, you, and Gabs forever, right?" 

"Gabs?" he asks. 

"Don't start with me. Gabriella's a mouthful. A beautiful mouthful," you concede. "I still think we should've named her Sofia. And yeah, Miguel. I love you. Really really. Don't forget it." 

You make him sit at the kitchen table. It's a selfish manoeuvre; you want him to sit so you can actually reach his hair. Your husband is the tallest man you've ever met. 

"Did you get a haircut?" you ask, running your fingers through his hair slowly. He shivers at your touch, and tilts his head back in question. "You did. That's such a betrayal, my love. I've been cutting your hair for going on six years now, I'm suddenly not good enough?" 

"You're good enough," he says. He really sounds so strange. 

"I'm joking. Miguel, if there's something wrong, you really need to tell me. I can make it better. Well, I can try." You bite your lip, unnerved by his quiet, solemn air. 

"Am I being weird?" he asks.

"No," you say, worried he thinks you're judging him. You never would. (He's being really weird.) "Of course not, you're just quiet tonight, that's all. Did you have a bad day at work?" 

"I– I got mugged. On the way home from work. I forgot the– the milk." 

"You what?" you ask, eyes widening in shock. Miguel's kind of gigantic. You've always said that you pity the fool who tries it, but apparently he's less hardy than you thought. A mugging explains his weird behaviour these last five minutes, at least. "What happened? Sweetheart, are you okay?" 

You take his face into both hands. He has dark circles under his eyes and a scratch along his jaw, but he seems unhurt. You suppose being attacked would age you instantaneously too. 

"Miguel, are you in shock? Should I take you to the hospital?" 

"I'm okay. I just feel strange." 

"Are you sure?” He nods hurriedly. You purse your lips. “I'll make you something warm to drink, that'll help. As long as you're not hurt, right? Did he take your wallet? We'll have to cancel your credit card." 

Miguel catches your shirt before you can go too far. 

"Hm?" you hum in question. 

Miguel visibly deliberates. His eyebrows lift ever so slightly. "Could I hug you?" 

The hurting and worry you have for him intensify before falling on the back-burner. You can shove your own feelings aside easily if he needs comforting. 

"I don't think you have to ask me," you say, offering your arms. 

Miguel is usually a short but meaningful hugger. You've hugged so many times and in what feels like every place on earth, and he's such a tall man that even if he doesn't mean for them to be, his arms are all encompassing.

It surprises you that this hug is different. He's tentative. When his hand falls to the small of your back it slots into place, and you can feel his relief like a palpable thing. 

"You’re okay," you say, your lips at his crown, your legs between his.

He's keeping space between you, and you don't like it. You press yourself as close to him as possible, your arms behind his shoulders, cupping the back of his head. Soft hair tickles your palm.

"Was it scary?" 

"Was what scary?" he asks. You don't mention his little sniff. He's smelling your hair. 

"Being mugged? Did he have a gun?" 

"Yeah, he did." 

"Oh, I see. There's no shame in being scared, you know that?" 

"I'm not scared. I wasn't scared when it happened. I just wanted to come home to you." 

You frown. His admission is like a barb in your chest, aimed true for your heart. "I'm so glad you did," you confess against his forehead, a murmur of sound. "So, so glad. I don't know what I'd do without you." 

You kiss his head three times in a row. The last kiss lingers, his arms slackening around you. 

You pull away, not wanting to smother him. Whoever's watching knows he's had enough of you these last few years. 

"Where–" Miguel clears his throat. "Where's Gabriella?" 

"She's in her room. Call her." 

You're hoping time with her will bring him back into focus. He's clearly more affected by this than he's willing to say. You don't know how you feel about it. Terrified, because you could've lost him. Euphoric that you didn't. You'd had this funny feeling all day long, and it's weird, you’d felt that something bad happened, a moment at the sink with Gabriella singing in her room, the clock ticking on the wall. Miguel late, but promising to bring the groceries you needed home with him before dinner. 

"Gabriella?" he calls up the stairs. You watch from the stove. 

You'll grab the pan and make him some hot cocoa. Just as soon as he stops looking scared. 

"Daddy?" Gabriella asks back. She's audibly ecstatic, and her footsteps are a stampede from her bedroom. You can see her from the kitchen when she gets to the bottom of the stairs. "Dad, pick me up!" 

"Oh, right," Miguel says, leaning down to hold her. 

He pulls her with all the grace of an elephant to his chest, and she nearly chins him. 

"Woah, careful." 

"Dad, you're super late. Mom said I can yell at you for being late." 

"You can yell at me, if you want to." He gives her a curious look. "I'm sorry for taking so long." 

Gabriella tilts her head to the side, dark hair shifting. She's a gorgeous little girl and her dad can't withstand it, melting as you hoped he would, the taut string of his back finally cut in two.  

"I don't want to yell at you," she whispers. 

"Good, because I don't want you to yell," he whispers back. 

Gabriella leans back in his arms and giggles thickly. He almost drops her, and has to readjust his hold on her back. 

"I'm so happy you're home!" she cheers, bringing her little hands up together from her chest and thrusting them out like fireworks. "You work too much! I thought doctors was s'posed to make everyone better and go home." 

"I'm not that kind of doctor," he says. 

You turn from where you've brought cocoa powder and milk to an emulsified simmer on the stovetop and beam at him. It's your favourite thing in the whole world when she mixes it up. Ever since she found his ID card with DR. written clear as day before his name, she's been under the impression that he works at the general hospital. Alchemex might break medical thresholds, but it is far from a hospital. 

"Are you having hot cocoa with your dad?" you ask Gabriella. 

She gasp in excitement and lists toward you. Miguel almost drops her for a second time. "Yes, oh my gosh!" 

"Well, come and sit. What mug?" 

Gabriella can't decide on what mug she wants; there's the orange cat with too many whiskers, there's the black one with bright white stars. After some deliberation, she decides on her and Miguel's matching daddy-daughter mugs.

"You're having some too, right?" he asks you. 

"Don't I always?" you ask. "Though I do want to protest the mugs. Where's my mug? Don't I deserve number one mom?" You kiss the top of Gabriella's head where she languishes in Miguel's lap, before placing their hot cocoa down far from her arm's reach. "It's hot." 

Miguel doesn't touch his. You blow cold air at Gabriella's and dip your fingertip into it periodically, content to spend some time with them both in amicable quiet. Gabriella just loves him to pieces, and she leans back in his arms with her eyes closed, basking in his closeness. 

She squints at you with one eye. "Dad?" 

Miguel doesn't answer. You nudge his foot. 

"What?" he asks.

"You're not doing the thing." 

"The thing?" 

You frown. 

"Yeah, dad." She huffs and curls his arm manually across her front. "Please, I want the kisses." 

He looks at you, completely lost. You're feeling similarly confused. "She wants you to kiss her hair," you say, wondering if perhaps he's suffering from stress related amnesia. 

He leans down carefully and kisses her hair. It's not the usual enthusiastic kiss, and he doesn't bother blowing in her ear after. 

Gabriella glares at him. "My ear!" 

"Blow in her ear," you mouth. 

He blows gently into her ear. She shivers, shudders, and laughs up a storm. 

When the cocoa's been drunk and the mugs washed and put away, Gabriella races upstairs, promising to return with a storybook and the drawing she made earlier in the day once she’s changed into her pyjamas. Miguel looks less lost than he had. In fact, he looks normal. The warm drink has put colour in his cheeks, and his daughter's cuddles have done their job. He's relaxed. He's forgotten the fear of the mugging, you're almost sure of it. 

You waver beside him. "Can I sit with you, or am I too heavy?" 

"Why would you be too heavy?" he asks. 

"You always say I'm too heavy," you say, sitting down on his thighs. They feel solid, a little different from usual. Miguel works out, but this is strange. He must be more tense than you thought. "It's your worst joke." 

"I'm sorry. I won't say it if it upsets you," he says, his voice rough and low. 

"Who said anything about that?" He's never called you heavy to be cruel. 

"Sorry," he apologises again. "I think all the excitement today messed me up." 

You spread your fingers wide across his chest, his heart beating a surface below. "It's okay. You don't have to react any one way…" You rub the tip of your nose against his jaw lightly. "I'm so glad you're okay. I had this weird feeling like something bad happened to you, you know?" 

Miguel laughs and coughs at the same time. It borders on being distressed. He's really worrying you. "You did?" he asks. 

"Mm-hm. But you're okay." You work hard to sound sure. 

His hand slides between your legs, fingertips digging into the soft inside of your upper thigh, though it doesn't stay there. He pulls away, looking flustered. "Sorry." 

"For what?" You blink. 

"I don't know." 

You laugh and press a kiss to the column of his throat, your nose squished against him. "I was thinking we'd watch that new movie tonight, with Harry Woodson, but it has guns and stuff. Would that still be okay?" 

He puts his hand behind your ear and guides your head back to look you in the eye. It's a familiar touch. He looks like himself again, though you truly are offended by his haircut. Maybe something happened at work and fried it off. 

"You're really something special," he says quietly. 

"How so?" 

His face softens with your flirting tone. "You're kind. You're so kind. I've never met someone like you." 

"What are you talking about?" you mumble. It's your turn to feel flustered, jellified by the earnestness lining his features. 

"You're sweet, and soft, and so pretty," he says, matching your tone. He's looking at you like he's seeing you for the first time. 

You understand the feeling. Sometimes you look at him and can't believe he's your love. 

"Soft," you repeat. "Are you trying to say something?" 

"Like that. That joke. You don't even sound mad." 

"You don't have to be so amazed. I've been like this since we met, haven't I? I'm hardly ever angry with you." You follow down from his eye to his jaw with your knuckle, tracing a tear he hasn't shed. He's spun you into thoughtfulness, and more than that —reverential fondness for him aches in the very centre of your stomach.  

"I must have some good luck," he says. 

His near death experience has inspired a wave of sappiness. 

You lean in until your forehead touches his, giving him time to close his eyes or lean away if he wants to. 

"I love you," you say simply. "You're not lucky, you're amazing, and all this good you see in me? I see it in you, O'Hara." You huff a laugh, breath fanning over his top lip as you steal a wonky kiss. You pull back. "You're sure–" 

Miguel kisses you. His hand flies to the back of your neck and his lips are eager, his head tilted to one side to accommodate your nose. He deepens the kiss and it's a mess, really, nothing like his usual kisses, no practised ease, nor confident touches. His fingertips push at the hairs lining the nape of your neck as though he's not sure what to do with his hand. It's like kissing him for the very first time. 

It's not a bad kiss. 

You kiss back slowly. You're the steadying constant to his hotheadedness, in kissing and in everything else, pulling time into an endless stretch of his mouth under yours, his body heat seeping into your skin. 

The sharp point of a tooth catches your bottom lip. You gasp into his mouth and flinch away from him. 

"Um, ouch? What was that, handsome, did you get your teeth filed to spikes?" you ask, probing your lip, a flood of giggles slipping between your fingers. 

He looks at you like you've lit the sky one star at a time. 

"Sorry," he says. "I'll be more careful, I swear." 

"Sure," you laugh. "Well, you'll have to be more careful later. You promised Gabriella you'd read her the Wishing Tree, and she's expecting a performance. Voices included." 

He adjusts you in his lap with more strength than you knew he had. "Will you help?" 

You'll always help him. He doesn't even need to ask. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!!

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fanfic #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara drabble #miguel o’hara scenario #miguel o’hara blurb #miguel o’hara oneshot #spider-man: across the spider-verse #spider-man: across the spider-verse spoilers #spider-man: across the spider-verse fanfiction #across the spider-verse spoilers #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse spoilers #spiderman across the spider-verse spoilers #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara x fem!reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara fanfic #miguel ohara fic #miguel ohara drabble #miguel ohara scenario #miguel ohara blurb

[itsjuliak5]

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse Spoilers Without Context

#spider-man: across the spider-verse #spider-man: across the spider-verse spoilers #spider-man: across the spider-verse spoilers without context #across the spider-verse spoilers #spider-man spoilers #spider-man #miles morales #gwen stacy #miguel o'hara

[starleska]

The Spot x Reader headcanons

just some ideas exploring The Spot as a character and how he may be with a significant other 👀 content warnings for bullying, harassment, possessive/yandere behaviour, and weird Eldritch portal-murder.

⚫ despite The Spot’s obvious ego, he struggles to believe you find him attractive. when you first meet he’s in something of a transformative period: volleying between being in awe at the power of his new physical form, and caving in to the abuse he’s received from friends, family and strangers for how he looks. The Spot rambles to you in a half-nervous, half-manic sort of way about the quirks of his bodies: how his spots fizz when he’s angry and feel like heartburn; how his blank-coloured skin stretches over his skeleton like too-tight rubber; how he isn’t even sure if he has a skeleton anymore. he’s convinced that you’re waiting for him to ‘turn back to normal’ - or, in the suspicious part of his mind, that you have an ulterior motive for getting close. it takes a while for The Spot to notice how blown your pupils become when he looms over you, or how your breath quickens when he says something equal parts charming and devious. but once he’s aware that you truly are captivated by him as The Spot...the power goes quite to his head 😉

⚫ The Spot is hesitant about physical contact at first, but once he knows you’re not a threat, he melts. understanding The Spot’s body was difficult at the start: one time, you tried to hold his hand, but accidentally stuck your fingers through a portal on his wrist and punched him where his nose should be. yet you soon learn to be careful, and with time, The Spot stops flinching away when you rest your palm on top of his, or gently cup his cheek. his skin has a smooth, dolphin-like quality: dry yet slippery like linoleum. you know you’re doing things right because The Spot is a vocal man: he voices his content audibly, with a pleased sigh when you nuzzle into his neck, and a gentle hum when he wraps his long arm around you and pulls you against his chest. when it finally clicks that you want him, The Spot can’t enough of you. he’s forever touching you on the arm, the waist, even the lips. it’s as if now his original form is gone, he can’t get enough of your physical humanity 🖤

⚫ becoming intimate with The Spot does your social life no favours, which makes him fiercely protective of you. it’s no wonder that the two of you found such common ground: you’ve been victim to your own share of bullying and trauma, and feel for The Spot’s plight, having had his whole life wrenched away from him without so much as a sympathetic ear. one day, you’re cornered by several locals who start berating you for being a ‘freak-lover’. they shove you to the ground and tell you to get out of town, and to take that ‘mutant’ with you. but before you can open your mouth to reply, portals open up underneath each your would-be attackers and swallows them up to the shoulders, keeping them pinioned in a kind of trans-dimensional bondage. 

The Spot pops through a hole in the sky and rushes to you, checking you for injury and asking, “Did they hurt you?” when you say no, but tell them what did transpire, you watch a ‘frown’ crease the upper half of the hole in his face. he turns away, and strolls over to his new captives, his demeanour languid and cocky. 

“Thought you could get away with this, huh?” The Spot asks. a chill thrills up your spine: his voice is two-toned, with something much darker belying his usual sweet tone. the captives are too terrified to reply. 

“Don’t bother,” he continues. “You’re just going to waste your breath. How about I do you a favour and...”

he raises one hand, and splits his index and middle fingers apart, like a pair of scissors.

“...cut things short?”

with a violent snap, The Spot snips his fingers together. the portals close in a sickening crunch, and you watch as the limp, lifeless bodies of your attackers slip through the open holes, and disappear into nothingness.  

#the spot x reader #the spot #dr. jonathan ohnn #spider-man: across the spider-verse spoilers #spider-man: across the spider-verse #spider-man #starleskawrites

[prokopetz]

You know, based on the teasers I kind of expected that interrogating the intertextuality of the cinematic multiverse as a narrative framing device would be a thread that's picked at in the Spider-Verse sequel, but I genuinely would not have called the writers deciding to make that thread the explicit text of the film.

#media #movies #spider-man: across the spider-verse #spider-verse #spider-man #comics #marvel #metatextual wankery #spider-man: across the spider-verse spoilers #spider-verse spoilers #spider-man spoilers #spoilers

[fortunesfavor13]

I love how so many of Gwen's lines when she's speaking to her dad are lifted directly from the comics (the Jason Latour run). It was just so cool.

#spider-man: across the spider-verse #spider-man: across the spider-verse spoilers #gwen stacey

[gladdygirl18]

Little Brother Cheer Up

This fic was requested by the amazing and incredible @starb4es! Thank you so much for requesting this; I had a blast writing it! Enjoy!

Summary: Hobie, Pavitr, and Miles have gotten very close, and the three teens have become brothers-in-arms. When Miles is feeling down in the dumps, the older teens know exactly how to turn his frown upside down.

Word Count: 1971

⚠️Warning⚠️: slight swearing

Miles, Pavitr, and Hobie. These three have grown very close throughout what's been going on. They were like brothers; they could rely on one another. When they're not swinging around saving their universe's cities, the three teens can be found having races around Brooklyn to see who's faster or bickering over what music is better. However, there is one thing that Hobie and Pavitr love doing that Miles hates: hazing Brooklyn's Spiderman.

Amongst these three, Miles is the youngest, making him the little brother of the group. Hobie and Pavitr love poking fun at the young Spiderman and hazing him; it's an unspoken rule amongst siblings, and the two older teens know it well.

"Hey, Miles! Don't forget your umbrella, or you might get washed away by the rain!" Pavitr teased one day.

"Hey, kid. Drink more milk; it'll make you big 'n' strong." Hobie said one day with a grin.

Miles didn't mind them teasing him or poking fun at him, but sometimes it can get a bit annoying. He appreciated Hobie and Pavitr's company, and with the tension between him and his parents, having his brothers to comfort and console him was more than he could ever ask for, and he was grateful to have them in his life. But damn, was their teasing flustering. Any tease, whether being called cute or a little joke, his cheeks always heat up, and Hobie and Pavitr find it so endearing. However, there is one form of hazing that Hobie and Pavitr love to use on Miles, but they only use it when the young teen is in a foul mood.

Like today, for example. It was a warm afternoon in Pavitr's dimension, and Miles was down in the dumps. Why? How the hell would I know? Anyone who asked if he was okay, Brooklyn's Spiderman responded with an, "I'm fine..." in a very monotone voice. Miles had come over to Pavitr's dimension to hang with him and Hobie to hopefully lighten his mood, but nothing worked. The young Spiderman sat on a windowsill, looking at beautiful Mumbattan. Inside was a concerned Pavitr and a confused Hobie.

"He's never like this, Hobs," Pavitr whispered, "What's up with him?"

"Askin' the wrong person, mate," Hobie deadpanned, glancing at Miles, "But, yeah, I gotta agree with ya; he's never like this."

Hobie's confused state was slowly turning into one of concern.

"Well, what can we do to help him?" Pavitr asked, determined to make Miles better again, "Seeing him like this... just doesn't sit right with me."

Hobie agreed with a silent nod. As a warm breeze came through the window, Pavitr got an idea.

"I know how to cheer him up!" Pavitr exclaimed.

He reached over and whispered his idea to Hobie, and the Spider Punk's grin grew sinister.

"I like the way you think," Hobie said, "Let's do it."

With a firm nod, the two older teens approached the sulking teen. Miles sighed before his spidey senses went off. He glanced behind him to see the other two coming over, only to look back at the Mumbattan cityscape.

"Hey, buddy," Pavitr began, "You doing okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine..." Miles said sadly.

Pavitr didn't believe him for a second. India's Spiderman sighed before sitting beside him on the window sill and wrapping an arm around the kid's shoulders.

"I know you, Miles," Pavitr said, "क्या गलत है, छोटे भाई?"

"What?" Miles questioned.

"He asked, 'What's wrong, little brother?'" Hobie deadpanned as he waltzed towards the duo.

Hobie leaned against the window sill on Miles' opposite side.

"Nothing is wrong, okay?" Miles questioned, "I'm fine, so can you guys please get off my back?"

The attitude in Miles' voice surprised Pavitr but impressed Hobie.

"So, the lil' spider does have some venom in his fangs," Hobie commented with a grin, "I salute that."

Not even a grin. Hobie called Miles that many times and it always made him smile and blush, but nothing happened.

"Aw, come on, spiderling!" Pavitr said, "Smile for us, please?"

Pavitr put on his best puppy-dog eyes and stared at Miles. Brooklyn's Spiderman didn't even glance at him. Now the other two were worried.

"Okay, you are definitely not Miles." Pavitr said suddenly.

"What are you talking about?" Miles questioned, finally glancing at India's Spiderman.

"I gotta agree with Pavi," Hobie said, straightening his posture, "The Miles I know can be a stubborn lil' shit sometimes, but never like this."

Miles groaned before shaking his head and turning back to the cityscape.

"You guys are ridiculous." Miles muttered.

The other two glanced at each other and shared a knowing look.

"Okay, that's it," Pavitr said, "We're getting our little brother back, no matter what."

"What are you on about now?" Miles asked, his voice laced with annoyance.

Before Miles could ask anything further, Hobie pulled the teen back by his shoulders and into his chest. Miles let out a surprised yelp as he struggled in Hobie's grip.

"What the hell, Hobie?" Miles asked, "Let me go!"

"Not a chance in hell, kid," Hobie said, "You've been the worst funk I've ever seen; more funky than stink on shit."

The joke made Pavitr laugh, but it made Miles more annoyed. When the two noticed this, the others grinned at each other before looking at their little brother. The grins on their faces made Miles nervous.

"W-Why are you guys grinning like that?" Miles asked.

"Because it's natural for us to do. Something you, mister, forgot about." Pavitr said, pointing at Miles.

"So, to help bring that smile back on your face..." Hobie said as his grip around Miles tightened.

The gears in Miles' head turned before he realized what they were about to do.

"Oh, no, you don't!" Miles panicked, "Let me go, damn it!"

"Feisty, are we?" Pavitr said, waltzing over to the squirming teen, "We can fix that, right, Hobie?"

"Right." Hobie agreed with a grin.

Before Miles could protest, Pavitr started skittering his fingers up and down Miles's sides, eliciting surprised giggles from Brooklyn's Spiderman. Remember that hazing technique that Hobie and Pavitr love to use on Miles? Yeah, this is it. Tickling Brooklyn's Spiderman has become a weekly thing between the three. Sure, Miles gets them back every once in a while, but all the attention is on him. And right now, Miles has Hobie and Pavitr's full, undivided attention.

"Pavihihihihihi! Nohohoho!" Miles giggled, "Stohohohop!"

"No way!" Pavitr claims, "You've been in such a bad mood almost all day; you need this!"

"Nohohoho, I-I dohohohon't!"

"I beg to differ, mate." Hobie said from behind.

Brooklyn's Spiderman struggled against the older teen's grip, but his giggling sapped him of his strength.

"Come ohohohoooon!" Miles whined, "This isn't fahahahahair!"

"It may not be fair, but it is needed," Pavitr said, "And we're not stopping until you tell us what's got you so down in the dumps."

"I told yohohohou! I'm fihihihihine!"

"That's what they all say." Hobie said.

Continuing to hold Miles, Hobie started to scratch his fingers in Miles' armpits, causing the teen to yelp and stomp his feet against the wooden floor.

"Hobihihihihihihie! Stahahahahap!" Miles cackled.

"Oh, please; you're not dying," Hobie deadpanned, "No need to be dramatic."

"I am dyihihihihihing!"

The older teens couldn't help but chuckle. When Pavitr moved his hands to Miles' belly, the teen's knees grew weak as his laughter brought him to the floor, but that didn't stop Hobie and Pavitr from following him down. Now Miles was sitting on the floor with Hobie restraining him and Pavitr tickling him. Brooklyn's Spiderman scraped his heels against the floor as he tried to find some way to escape.

"Plehehehehase! Leave me alohohohohone!" Miles giggled.

"Are you gonna tell us what's wrong?" Pavitr asked, leaning in close.

When Miles shook his head, India's Spiderman sighed before dropping his hands to Miles' hips, eliciting a squeal and a soft buck.

"That feheheheheels so weheheheheird!" Miles exclaimed.

"Yeah, it's called bein' ticklish, mate," Hobie said, stopping his tickling to tighten his grip, "So, are ya gonna tell us what's been biting your ass all day?"

"Nohohohoho! There's nothing to tehehehehell!"

Pavitr rolled his eyes before moving his hands up to tickle Miles' armpits. Miles' snorted before letting out a loud laugh.

"NOHOHOHO! NOT THEHEHEHERE!" Miles laughed, "STOP, STAHAHAHAHAP!"

"Are you gonna confide in us and tell us what's been eating you?" Pavitr inquired.

"NOHOHOHOHO!"

"There's that stubbornness," Hobie said with a smile, "Ya love to see it."

Miles was too busy laughing to hear anything the others were saying. However, Brooklyn's Spiderman suddenly felt that heaviness leave his heart. Whatever horrible feeling that was plaguing him was gone.

"COME OHOHOHON!" Miles laughed, "YOU AHAHAHAHSSHOHOHOLES! STAHAHAP IHIHIT!"

"What did you just call us?" Pavitr asked.

Without hesitation, India's Spiderman started vibrating his hands across the teen's ribs, sending the kid into a frenzy of laughter.

"NAHAHAHAAAA! NAAAHAHAAAT THEHEHEHERE!" Miles cried, thrashing in Hobie's grip, "SHIHIHIT! LET ME GOHOHOHO!"

"Well, someone's certainly spitting venom today," Hobie said, "I like that."

Miles slammed his legs against the floor in ticklish agony, throwing his head back against the Spider Punk's shoulder and laughing freely, all while trying to free himself from this.

"PLEHEHEHEHASE! LET MEHEHEHE GOHOHOHOO!" Miles laughed.

"Aww, and why would we do that?" Pavitr asked in a baby voice, "Does it tickle? Huh, does it tickle, tickle, tickle, little brother?"

Miles felt his cheeks heat up when Pavitr teased him.

"NOHOHOHO TEASIHIHIHIHIHING!" Miles cried, "THAHAHT'S NOT FAHAHAHAIR!"

"Sure it is," Hobie said, "Tickling and teasing go hand-in-hand like Bonnie and Clyde. Can't have one without the other."

Miles couldn't stop the snort that escaped, causing the other two to laugh along with him.

"That was so cute!" Pavitr swooned.

"NO, IT WAHAHAHAHASN'T!" Miles laughed, "PLEHEHEHASE! PAVIHIHIHIHI! STOHOHOP TICKLIHIHIHIHING MEHEHEHE!"

"Are you gonna tell us what's wrong?" Hobie asked.

Miles groaned through his laughter, but when Pavitr reached his top rib, Miles broke.

"FRIHIHIHIHIHIHICK! FINE, FIHIHIHIHIHIHINE!" Miles cried, "I'LL TALK, I'LL TAHAHAHAHAHALK! PLEASE JUST STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!"

When the older teens nodded to one another, Pavitr removed his hands from Miles' body, leaving the young teen to slump against Hobie and pant. Though Hobie didn't release Mile's right away, Brooklyn's Spiderman felt the older teen's grip loosen. After catching his breath, he patted Hobie's arm, signaling him to release him. When Hobie did, Miles sat up and sighed as he glanced at the older teens.

"I honestly don't know what was wrong with me today," Miles said, "I guess I was just having an off day, y'know? Like, you just feel upset for no reason."

Pavitr and Hobie nodded in understanding.

"I get that," Pavitr said, "We all have off days; it's a natural thing, especially for us spider-people."

Hobie nodded in agreement. Miles breathed out a chuckle as he glanced between the other two.

"Thanks, guys," Miles said, "I really needed that."

Pavitr smiled before wrapping an arm around the younger teen.

"Anytime, little brother," Pavitr said, "We'll always be there for you!"

Hobie grinned as he ruffled Miles' hair.

"Yeah, kid," Hobie said, "If something is goin' on, tell us, or we'll be forced to use extreme measures."

Miles got the hint when a mischievous look crossed the Spider Punk's face.

"M-Message received." Miles said.

Pavitr grinned before standing up and walking over to the window.

"There's still some light left," Pavitr said, grabbing his mask, "Wanna go for a swing?"

The other two nodded before putting on their masks and vaulting out the window behind Pavitr, swinging around beautiful Mumbattan for the remainder of the afternoon. This was the Miles Morales that Pavitr and Hobie missed, smiling and laughing without a care in the world, with a hint of stubbornness and sassiness. After what happened, the older teens can confidently say that they got their little brother back.

#tickle fic #spider-man: across the spider-verse #spider-man: across the spider-verse spoilers #spider-man: across the spider-verse tickle fic #sfw tickle community