#spiderverse one shot

[heartpascal]

is it freedom?

▹— spiderverse (future) found family x platonic!reader

▹— summary: after losing everything, you struggle to accept the one thing you needed all along.

▹— a/n: ok i have been enabled by exactly two (2!) people. (thank you both) SO dare i start a spiderverse series??? IF YALL WANT MORE OF THIS… I WILL DO IT. this is really just a set up thing idk but i feel like arachnid has potential for further parts and ACTUAL found family!! also haven’t tagged people on my general taglist bc idk if you guys want to be tagged in ALL works or just all pedro works :(

▹— warnings: slight across the spiderverse spoilers, not really found family yet, injuries, blood, treating own injuries, stitches, fighting (canon-typical violence yall), dead parents (mentioned a LOT), a whole lot of angst (it’s a spider-person so what do we expect), reader has a whole lot of bad thoughts, loneliness, isolation

masterlist PART TWO

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Had you known what this, this thing, would lead to, you would have never started it. Not that you had done so purposely, at least to begin with, more so happening as an event of pure chance. You were in the right place at the right time, and since then, you had been addicted.

But if you could go back, look at yourself just a year younger than you are now, tell that kid what would come if you went through with saving a life for the first time, you wondered. It was a question that scratched deep in your brain, sending you off balance the more you thought about it; would you have still done it? Would you have saved that person’s life, knowing it would lead to your own falling apart?

You would like to think yes. In fact, you know that back then, when your eyes were bright at the prospect of helping people, when you still marvelled at the world like it was good, you would have been certain that it would be worth it. Why should that person die, just to save you? It’s a harrowing realisation. A conclusion that makes your fingers tremble, your voice shake. Now, you’re not sure you would do it. You don’t think you could bear to face that decision knowing what you know of the world around you now.

It’s something cruel, really, that the spider that bit you gave you these powers, and nothing to go back and fix your mistakes. Your perceived victories. Your losses.

But the worst has already happened, and the only one left to die is you, so you carry on. You don the suit every day, you sew up your own injuries on the top floor of the abandoned offices that you’ve claimed as your own. Each day, you wake when you choose, you sleep when you want to, and you work yourself down to your very bones with nobody to object.

The hollow feeling in your gut is a pain you have no choice to ignore, to smother with assurances that this is freedom. What else could it be? You do whatever you so please, you spend your time swinging through the streets of New York rather than doing schoolwork at home, you eat all the junk you could ever have wanted.

It’s freedom. It has to be.

You tell yourself that you don’t miss the home part of having to do schoolwork, promise your heart that you don’t miss home-cooked meals as opposed to greasy food that leaves you unsatisfied. You swear that you like having nobody to tell you what to do. There’s no other choice, after all.

And each day, when you spend a little bit longer out on the streets, getting yourself into needless fights that the police could certainly handle, you tell yourself it’s because you’re protecting the city. You convince yourself that it’s not because of having an unending rage to satiate, or a permanent feeling of breathlessness when you leave police to handle anything, as if you could relive the moment your father, the captain, was left to handle something he couldn’t.

So, you’re almost relieved by the appearance of something… strange. Something dangerous. This is what you live for — this is your job.

You crouch against the wall, fingers splayed and suit itching where you had crudely sewn it back together across your ribs at an almost too-close call. You hold your breath, you watch. The lenses over your eyes shield your sensitive sight from the harshest colours of this new opponent, who looks almost… unreal. Too different to be a part of reality. He yells out, seemingly glitching? A distorted scream of what is apparently pain, accompanied by flashes of colour that are unfamiliar to you.

“Well, that doesn’t look good.” You comment, eyebrows raised beneath your mask, and the strange looking guy snaps his head towards you, long hair slapping across the goggles over his eyes. He bares his teeth at you, something almost resembling a grin marring his face.

“Spider-man!” He yells triumphantly, cackling as he wipes the hair away from his face, tendrils unfurling from behind his back and lifting him into the air.

“Not quite!” You call back, dodging below the metallic arm that shoots towards where your head was, crumbling through the wall. You try to think back to the jokes you used to tell to rile up whoever you were facing, but find your mind is blank. Instead, all you can think of is questions. “Where the hell did you come from, anyway?”

The man follows you as you spring from wall to wall, heading towards the center of the building where it tunnels up for about forty floors, balconies overlooking the fountain below. “A new spider, eh? Well I’ll take you down just as easily as I have the other!” He tells you, though you’re immediately suspicious of his statement. You’re the only Spider-related hero around, and even if you weren’t, you doubt this guy could squash a worm, let alone you.

“Sure thing, man.” You say, sighing, already exhausted by the repetitiveness that comes with every fight. Your opponents always say they’ll beat you, kill you, squish you, take you down, and yet you always get back up at the end of the fight, and they always remain defeated. When you started doing this, you never would have thought you’d get so tired from winning all the time.

And yet here you are, slipping further and further up the building with the octopus-looking guy chasing after you, metal arms crumbling walls and bannisters on his way up. He falters once more, another one of those glitch-like movements sending him down a few floors, but he’s quick to recover. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy.

You crouch down on one balcony, somewhere around the thirty mark floor-wise, peering down at the guy as he shakes lingering pain from his body. He charges upwards, aiming to reach you quickly with an almost predatory smirk on his face. Before he can even get close to you, however, you’re back on the move, setting a trap for him that he doesn’t even seem to notice.

It’s only when a group of late workers emerge on what you’re pretty sure is the twenty-first floor that you become more anxious about this fight. You don’t like when civilians are involved.

There’s about a dozen of them crowding the balcony, looking up to where you’re facing off with octopus-man above, some having begun to descend the stairs to the next floor before catching on to your presence. You try not to draw attention to them, but their pointing and whispering sets the Spidey-sense off, ringing loudly between your ears, almost deafening in its intensity. Maybe you underestimated this guy. The flash of a camera sends the last hope of him not noticing down the drain, and he grins at you as he switches targets, climbing down towards them with some semblance of caution.

You’re much faster than he is, dropping down and using a web to catch yourself rather than having to climb. It’s hard to stop yourself from yelling at them, cursing them out for being so damn foolish — who in their right mind would stick around a very dangerous fight to take pictures?

Instead, you choose to yell, “Get out! Go, go, go.” And usher them down the stairs, but it’s not difficult to realise that this guy is going to get to them before they manage to descend to the bottom. You shouldn’t be surprised, really. Nothing is ever as simple as it could be, not for you.

The split second decision to drop down and form a net-like web low enough to catch the workers worked out for you in the end, as you swung back up and pushed the workers off of the balcony and stairway just as the octopus man was reaching them. He cursed at you, refocusing his efforts on you as you vaguely noted the workers clambering down after their screaming had stopped. Honestly — did people really have so little faith in you? Had you ever sent anybody to their death before?

“You are just as pesky of an insect as Spider-man!” He growled out, teeth gritted, and came after you with renewed force. He kind of reminded you of that doctor you faced not long after getting your powers, but this guy looked completely different. The doctor you faced — aptly named Doc Ock — had turned himself into some form of a mutant, he had reinforced tentacles which sprouted from his back. Was this guy some kind of copy cat? Maybe he was just delusional.

“I don’t know who Spider-man is, man!” You shout to him as you ascend the building again, trying to figure out the best way to take this guy down. His tentacles seem electronic, so surely you could disable whatever machinery resides on his back?

“That’d be me.” A voice came from above you, two floors ahead of your position. Your head snapped towards it, seeing a man in a blue and red suit, framed by a burst of orange behind him. He didn’t linger up there long, instead moving to leap down to the guy who had turned his attention to the new guy. The closer you looked at this new guy, the more similarities you saw to yourself — his webs looked remarkably similar to your own, the pattern that went across his suit matched your own, even the wide white lenses that shielded your eyes on your mask. Who the hell was this guy?

The octopus man grinned widely, shaking greasy hair from his face. “Ah, finally! The real Spider-man. Got yourself a new protégé, I see.” He drawled, dodging this new guy’s hit straight off of the bat. You tried not to get annoyed at being referred to as a protégé, considering as far as you were aware, you were the only Spider-person around. Where was this guy when you were holding a bridge full of civilians together? Where was he when you took down villain after villain, never once failing to get the guy? No — you were the real Spider-man, if anyone.

“I don’t know who you are, man, but I’m handling this just fine.” You call to the guy, swinging down to rejoin the fight, webbing the villain’s metal tentacles to the wall behind him, before dropping down to kick him towards the wall.

“Oh, so you know how to send this guy back to his own dimension?” Spider-man asks you, eyebrows raised beneath his mask, and as if on cue, the guy glitches once more, ripping his arms away from the wall and just about catching himself on a balcony below before he could fall into your net.

You gape at the new guy, glancing back up to where the burst of orange remains opened, and is that a portal? Is this Spider-man from another dimension? Is that why you’ve never heard of him before? God, if your mother was alive, she’d kill to find out about this. Inter-dimensional travel was something she had spent her life researching. If you didn’t remain so bitter toward her even after her death, you might’ve been sad she wasn’t alive to see this.

But you were bitter, and it made the experience all the worse.

Because you’re pretty sure that that bitterness takes the place of grief within you. It’s hard to understand why you crave to feel that pain, that grief, as opposed to the aching resentment that floods you with the thought of her. It’s such a sharp contrast to thinking of your father, your kind father, the man who threw himself into a battle he couldn’t have hoped to survive, just on the off chance he could save somebody. You hope you take after him.

“Wait— you’re from another dimension?” You question anyway, eyes flickering between the battle and the looming portal above. In fact, you’re so distracted by finding out about that tidbit of information that you miss octopus man aim a tentacle for you, and it snatches you around the ankle. “Oh, you gotta be kidding me—!”

The man waves you around like some kind of rag doll, and you try not to be too bitter about being caught off guard. You should probably learn that getting caught up in your little pity party always ends up badly, always distracts you from that renowned Spidey-sense. You formulate a plan in your mind when the drip of blood around your ankle draws your attention back to the battle at hand.

You web the wall opposite and hold on tight, pausing the movements and letting the dizziness that had come over you fade away. The man growls out in annoyance, and gets closer to cut the webs with another tentacle, which is exactly what you planned for. The tension from the webs launches you towards him when you let go, and in his surprise, the metal tentacle releases you. You wrap around him, and start webbing up the machinery embedded in his back as Spider-man distracts most of the tentacles, keeping them from pulling you off.

His tentacles start faltering, clearly not obeying his movements, and you wrap them up where they emerge from his back, continuing along until the movement is so limited that he has to use them all to clutch onto the nearest balcony.

You crawl up the tentacles in the very same spidery manner that you’re known for, and crouch, watching the octopus man struggle as Spider-man observes from the balcony opposite. “You wanna finish this one off, Spider-man?” You ask, unable to hide any bitterness from your tone at his mostly unhelpful actions throughout the battle.

“Hey, not bad!” He praises, and it annoys you. You’re good at what you do — for the most part. You manage without help constantly, and that’s the way you prefer it. “You’d make a good addition to the Spider Society!”

Now, you don’t know what the Spider Society is. But honestly? You don’t care. You don’t need help, and you prefer working alone, and you certainly don’t like feeling patronised.

“Whatever, man. Just send him back to whatever dimension he came from.” You tell the guy, and drop down as you hear sirens outside, landing on your injured ankle and just about stopping yourself from cursing. Through all the adrenaline and fighting, you’d forgotten about the way the metal had ripped into your skin, drawn blood. It’s just be another place you’d have to sew up your suit with itchy, uneven stitching. “Officers,” You greet as they open the doors, guns drawn, radios murmuring. “All taken care of. Civilians okay?”

“Shaken up, but fine.” The leading police officer says, immediately relaxing and holstering his weapon. You wish it reassured you that the police trusted you now, but it didn’t. Nonetheless, the other officers follow suit. “Thank you, Arachnid.”

The name your world has bestowed upon you has yet to grow on you, but you nod your head regardless, and salute them as you make your way out, swinging across the city, trying to put the existence of the multiverse and inter-dimensional travel out of your mind. Surprisingly, it’s pretty easy when you have a busted ankle to fix up.

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You’re halfway through stitching up your suit, having already sewn your skin back together with as much skill as you possessed in the matter — which was, not much. But the bleeding has stopped, and your stupidly slow healing will take care of it within a few days. You know that the itchy stitches on your suit will just irritate the injury, and though you wouldn’t lose anything if your identity was revealed, it doesn’t feel right to go out into the city with any part of you on show.

No, you wear the suit for a reason. You keep every part of yourself covered because nobody can know it’s you underneath the suit. Not because you had anything to lose, no, you had already lost everything. It was because then you could never make a mistake, you would have to be absolutely perfect, flawless, to make up for the fact that it was you underneath the layer.

So, you settle with a sewn suit that will itch and make the stitches on your ankle sting.

However, when there’s a burst of orange across the room, you have no choice but to forgo the suit, to simply drop the needle and thread and hover your fingers over your web shooters. You wait, nervously, for some other villain to appear. You’re not sure if Spider-man appearing would be better or worse.

But when a foot steps through the portal, it’s nobody familiar. In fact, it’s a suit you have never seen before, made up of dark blues and bright reds, sharp edges and long claws. It’s… unnerving, and considering the silence coming from the person wearing it, you’re not entirely certain of what they’re here for.

A moment later and another person steps through, a woman, with bright yellow lenses across her eyes that filter her irises into an amber. She steps forward, standing beside the person who had stepped through first, and if she hadn’t showed up, you would’ve been tempted to attack. With that being said, you remain on edge, but there’s something… comforting about her presence. Like her presence softens the man’s jagged edges.

She says your name, and then adds, “Arachnid.”

You furrow your brows and curse as you glance back at the suit so crudely laid out on the floor. Still, it doesn’t explain how she knows your name. Was it an inter-dimensional thing?

“Spider-man told us about your work in capturing Doc Ock earlier.” She tells you, as if that explains their presence. You did what you were supposed to do, which was take out the bad guys. “We’re here to offer you a place in the Spider Society.”

You can’t help but wonder if this is some kind of good cop, bad cop thing. She presents an offer which doesn’t sound too bad, and then her sharp-edged companion presents all the drawbacks and the catches. They don’t seem like the type to take no for an answer, either way. You still don’t even know what this Spider Society was! Was it some kind of multi-dimensional cult?

“I already told Spider-man that I wasn’t interested in joining whatever cult you’ve got going on.” You practically hiss, though you didn’t exactly tell him in such blatant words. You were more dismissive earlier, so you’d have to be clear now.

“It’s not a cult,” The man speaks, voice harsh and sharp much like the blades that branch from his forearms. “We work to protect the multiverse from anomalies that threaten to destroy it.”

The woman glances at him in a way that you translate as being vaguely annoyed, like he wasn’t approaching you in the way she had wanted him to. “He means to say that it’s a big job, and we need all the help we can get.” She says, softer, but only in comparison to the man’s harshness. “Listen, kid, you’re good at what you do. We need that kind of talent.”

“You’ll have to find it somewhere else.” You say firmly, because why would you want to leave your universe? This was a lot to think about when you had only learned of the multiverse existing mere hours ago. Regardless, you weren’t about to abandon your city just to go across the multiverse to help other heroes who couldn’t keep a leash on their own villains.

The two of them shared a look, a mere glance, before the woman heaved a sigh. “Look,” She sighed, heavily, like whatever she was about to say was something she didn’t want to be voicing. “Before you make your choice, you should know, your Green Goblin is currently terrorising another universe.”

You couldn’t work out if this was some kind of recruitment tactic, or something. That just wasn’t possible. You had put Gwen Stacy in the highest security prison after all antidotes to her goblin-tech failed. She was stuck in there — permanently. There was no way she had gotten out, let alone gotten out to another universe.

…Right?

It’s hard not to think of the memories at the mention of her—Green Goblin, not Gwen Stacy. Never Gwen Stacy. You wonder if this is where your fear comes from, the terrifying fact that you are remembered only for your mistakes. Because before she was the Green Goblin, she was Gwen. She was everything to you. She was the sun you orbited, the stars that charted your path. And it hurts, it hurts that you can only remember the blood and the dust and the destruction when you think of her.

People aren’t born as monsters, are they?

Like the spider that bit you, that invertebrate that so many fear, it was born the way it was. It was born with those fang-lined maws, with those eight legs and dozens of eyes. It was made into the monster it became, artificially crafted to deliver a venom that changed you forever. But it wasn’t born that way.

Surely, Gwen wasn’t either. She was kind. You remember that about her. You can remember her soft hands that used to hold your own, the loud laughter that always ended in a snort when she laughed at her own jokes, the gentle eyes that stared into your very soul. But those eyes are the very same ones that let her see through your mask, let her see exactly where to hit you to make it hurt. Was that what she was born as? Or is that what she was made into? A killer. A monster.

“Show me.” You say, because what else could you possibly respond? If what they’re saying is true, if the Green Goblin is loose once more, then people will die.

You can’t let her get fresh blood on her hands. Not when somewhere, deep inside your chest, so far down it’s almost unreachable, you have hope for her. You have an innate desire to look for the best in her, even when the Gwen you knew was the first life that the Green Goblin took.

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If there’s one thing you’ve taken from being Arachnid, it’s to expect the unexpected. And you go through the orange portal after Jessica Drew and Miguel O’Hara with that exact mindset about you, staring at where an orange watch-like device is wrapped around your wrist.

It’s in your nature to be suspicious, and these people weren’t an exception to that.

In fact, their presence only heightened that behaviour. After all, what were you to expect from two Spider people, who supposedly came to you for your help?

You weren’t blind, you saw the aged lines of their faces the moment you got close enough to see them clearly, away from the dim lighting of the building. They were adults, adults who had clearly been doing this type of thing a lot longer than you had. You, who was barely bordering on adult, who had fought enough battles already to last a lifetime — so why would they need you?

It didn’t feel right.

And when this Miguel person summoned Lyla the moment you walked through the portal, it felt all the more wrong. She was a hologram of some kind, much higher tech than the kind of thing you saw on your earth. But then again, you had never really been in high tech labs back in your earth. Still, it unsettled you. “Lyla, get me the location of Green Goblin, Earth 5011.” He commanded, and they argued in hushed voices for a moment, before a wider hologram appeared, stamped at Earth 3899.

“How did she get to another universe?” You ask, then, because it doesn’t make sense, and you’re shaking underneath the thin material of your suit. You’re hyper aware of each drag of stitching against the wound on your leg, each patch of fabric you had sewn on in hopes of the suit lasting you just a little longer, because you didn’t have the resource to produce a new one.

“It’s an anomaly.” Jessica Drew tells you, her tone softer than you’d heard it, as if she was attempting to reassure you in some way.

It didn’t help. But how could it? The last time you had faced Gwen Stacy—Green Goblin— you had lost so much. It had been the beginning of the end of everything good in your life. The explosion she had caused at your mother’s laboratory was the very same one that killed her, the very same explosion that sent you and your dad miles apart all while living in the same home. And still, you found a way to hope that there was something to salvage within Gwen.

But not only had you lost your mother, and not long after — your father, you had also lost your closest friend. The one person you had confided in, who knew you from your surface to the deepest level, and she had used that against you the moment the Goblin had taken over.

It had taken everything in you to beat her, back then.

And that was on home turf! How did these people expect you to do that a second time, in a completely unfamiliar place?

“Specifics aren’t important right now. Jessica, you take Arachnid. Lyla, send another one of the teams.” Miguel instructed, dismissing your questions right off the bat. It was frustrating. They were leaving you completely in the dark, and sending you to fight the worst enemy you had ever faced, and they were sending you alongside others like you from different universes. It was like asking you to bare your soul in front of them, to reveal your secrets, your deepest regrets, everything that you wanted to stay buried.

You knew Green Goblin. You knew that’s exactly what she would do. She would undermine you, she would lay your life out in front of you like tiles on a scrabble board. In the end, none of it amounted to much.

Jessica Drew made her way out, glancing at you and nodding for you to follow along. Your moment of hesitation had drawn Miguel’s attention, and he called out to you after a moment of hesitation. “We’ve all faced one like it, kid. It’s easier with others.” He told you, though he held a pained expression on his face all the while. Instead of admitting to the way he had hit the nail right on the head, you simply nodded and followed after Spider-woman.

It was a whirlwind from there.

Meeting up with others. Travelling the length of the so-called Lobby to wherever it was that Jessica was taking you. When you finally arrived, she offered an empty glass box with a mannequin inside, bare. She gestured towards it like it should’ve been self explanatory, but soon realised she’d have to spell it out for you.

You shouldn’t have been so upset by the offer of a new suit.

But you were.

This suit was your life. You had nothing outside of it, not anymore. You couldn’t just throw it away, as if it meant nothing, as if every rip and patch and wonky stitch didn’t mean anything. These were proof that what you were doing was real, that it was worth something. Each stitch proved you had value. You weren’t about to throw all of that away, especially for whatever overly technical suit these people would provide.

You had everything you needed.

And so Jessica led you to the next destination: Earth 3899.

The moment you stepped through the portal, it was like you were hit with a wave of familiarity. And not in a positive, slightly nostalgic way, no— this was chaos. This was the state your world had been in when Green Goblin ran riot, unchecked. She had torn apart buildings, blown up parks, she had set New York City aflame. And she was doing exactly the same here.

It was more contained here than it had been on your earth, and you had to assume that was thanks to the Spider-man already on site, coordinating police, ambulance and fire responses to douse the fires as quickly as she set them. If only the police in your city had trusted you so much, back then.

“Where is she?” You ask, the moment you get close enough to speak to the resident Spider-man of the universe. He looks at you as if you’re familiar, but doesn’t comment, instead just pointing a finger toward a skyscraper just a short way ahead. You’re gone the moment he tells you where to go.

She had the uncanny ability to stay quiet. It had freaked you own back on your own earth, but it was even more terrifying here, where things were ever so slightly different.

“Arachnid.” Gwen’s voice called, and for a moment, you could forget. You could forget every horrible thing the Goblin had done, and you could remember your friend, your Gwen, who had called out to Arachnid more than once without knowing it was you behind the mask. Whether it was for a story or to provide information on your most recent opponent, the voice calling your alias was familiar. But then there was that crackle of laughter, an unnatural gurgle in the way it left her throat, and you turned to see the green-tinged pallor of her skin. “I was so hoping you’d show up.”

You didn’t know how much her appearance would effect you, until you were stuck to the side of the building, staring at what had once been your best friend. You’re so choked up that you can’t even formulate a response, because you want that to be Gwen so badly, but you know it isn’t. The more you look at her, the more Goblin you see, the more you know that the Gwen you love is never coming back.

“Nothing to say?” She asks, and then says your real name, the name she used to say down the crackle of a phone line, or across the school hallway, and she smiles. “I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

“You should’ve stayed in prison, Gwen.” You say, your voice unsteady as you say her name aloud for the first time in what must be forever. She seems to relish in the tremble of your voice, and you have to curse yourself for being so stupid, for already showing the vulnerability she was so easily able to pick out.

The Green Goblin tutted at you, stood atop her glider, but the smile you saw didn’t belong to Gwen. “You’re pathetically predictable, you know. You’re like a moth to the flame.” She tells you, and you fear that she’s right, that you’re the same person you were back when you fought her, back when she almost won. She sighs, like something heavy is weighing upon her, but it turns wistful in the blink of an eye. “I’m just glad your dad isn’t here to see this. He’d be so disappointed.”

“Arachnid, focus.” Jessica’s voice interrupts, before you can spiral down that rabbit hole. How did Gwen even know about your father? She was in prison long before he died. It didn’t make sense.

“Maybe,” You say, that familiar tremble around your words. “He did always hope for the best for you.”

She bares her teeth at your words, the only visible reaction before her mask is slipping over the bottom of her face, stretching out up to pointed ears, all metallic and tinted a murky green. Then, she’s attacking.

It’s muscle memory, mostly, you think.

If you don’t think too hard about it, it could be like playing a game with a longtime friend from your childhood. You know the moves to make, you know how she’ll respond. It’s a constant push and pull, a balance which leaves only destruction behind, the path of the Green Goblin’s wrath tangible in each battle scene the two of you leave behind. You can’t beat her like this.

It’s her glitching that gives you a slight upper hand — and you send her careening off of her glider to the ground below.

Your heart squeezes suddenly in your chest as you watch her fall, her eyes wide in what could almost be perceived as fear. If you didn’t intervene, would she die? Would you have put an end to her story, once and for all, when you secretly hope there’s a cure out there for her? You can’t bear the thought of finding out, of watching her die, and so you foolishly dive after her.

A web to her midsection allows you to grip her before she hits the ground, and you set her down with a far more gentle hand than you would ever admit.

She says your name, then, a whispered version of it that sounds like Gwen. You think you can see her in those wide blue eyes, in that stare, and you approach with some caution. “Gwen,” You say, more of a question, “You with me?”

“I’m with you,” She answers, as you reach her side, as you resist the urge to pull off your mask. You’re so preoccupied staring at her expression that you don’t see the blade until it’s too late, your Spidey-sense failing you as you wallowed in your search for someone who was gone. “You sweet, predictable bug.” She spits then, twisting the blade she had sunk deep into your side, and you writhe, trying to move away from her.

“Arachnid!” Jessica Drew calls out, drawing the Green Goblin’s attention, allowing you to pull away from her slackened grasp. You leave the blade where it is, knowing your only slightly enhanced healing wouldn’t make up for the onslaught of blood that would pour from the wound. “I think that’s enough, Green Goblin.” Jessica says, riding a motorbike that you swore she didn’t have earlier. Nonetheless, she uses it to put even more space between you and your villain.

“You need a hand, kid?” A new voice asks, and a gloved hand reaches out for you where you had knelt against the tarmac. You look up, seeing a new Spider-man, but this one has his mask up, showing off his aged face and the bags underneath his eyes. You wave him off, staggering up to your feet, and clench your jaw as you stare at Green Goblin, watch as she pulls bombs from her waistband, barely the size of a chocolate bar, but capable of causing irreparable damage. “Get back to HQ, Arachnid, we can handle this.” Spider-man tells you, in what you suspect to be a fatherly voice, but you ignore him.

Time flies, slips out of your grasp, and you don’t know how long you and the others spend fighting Green Goblin, but she proves to be just as difficult of a foe for them to face as she was for you. Each time the three of you manage to get the drop on her, she slips away before she could be caught. It’s frustrating, and you can even see the way irritation thickens in the air, tangible.

Spider-man, or Peter, as Jessica had called him, is with you, focusing on trying to take Green Goblin down, whilst Jessica Drew is focused on damage control, blowing up Gwen’s bombs before they could hit their intended targets. You’re pretty sure the resident Spider-man is around here, too, pulling any lingering citizens out of harms way before Green Goblin could end them. You’d admit, it works better than you had done alone back on your own earth.

But it doesn’t work well enough, and more than one building is damaged almost beyond repair, and in the dust and rubble, Peter was distracted by the few citizens poking their heads out of the gaping hole in the side of their apartments. He didn’t see Green Goblin coming until it was too late, until she had thrown two of her bombs, one towards him, and one towards the already wrecked building.

Your throat dries up as you try to figure out what to do, who to go for, but in the end, you don’t have to choose.

Beams of glowing orange webs shoot into the bombs where they arc towards their victims, blowing them up and leaving both Peter and the civilians in the apartments without a scratch on any of them. Well, nothing that wasn’t already there before. You see him then, running alongside Jessica Drew, none other than Miguel O’Hara — who clearly didn’t think that the three of you were capable of handling Green Goblin.

“We’ve gotta end this.” Peter tells the three of you, glaring over at Green Goblin after coming so close to one of her bombs.

“You distract, I’ll go in.” You say, the only plan that makes sense. The only plan that’ll work. You wouldn’t be much use as a distraction, not with the blood still pooling around the blade hanging from your side, but you could beat her. You knew you could.

Peter nodded, and he, Jessica and Miguel went in one after another, landing hits on Green Goblin before she could even think to withdraw another bomb, or land a hit of her own, whilst you made your way behind her, swinging as high as you dared to go in your state. She was getting angry, you could tell, a distinct flush rushing up the back of her neck, a tell that Green Goblin shared with Gwen.

It was only when she was starting to turn the tide that you jumped down from your spot against the side of a building, looking for your opening.

She sent Jessica Drew tumbling off of her motorbike, which was your chance.

Green Goblin heard you only a moment before you were on her, not giving her a chance to make a countermove. Instead, you were curling your arms around her, as tight as you could, holding her hands away from her waistband. You gripped the blade in your side and yanked it out, holding it to her chest, breathing heavily through the pain as you bared your teeth at her, her face beside your own.

“Don’t make me kill you.” You say, and try not to hear the pleading in your own voice, the distinctive tone of a beg. You may have the upper hand on her, but as always, she had the power. “Don’t.” You repeat, because you can feel it in your bones that you would do it. If it was the choice between her or the hundreds that she would kill on this world, it would be those hundreds. There was no doubt about it, no questions to be asked.

You may have resented your mother, but she wasn’t the only one who died because of the Green Goblin. You wouldn’t let that happen again.

Perhaps she heard the plea in your voice, the giveaway that you weren’t bluffing, because she went still in your arms, still enough for the other Spiders to approach with some caution, eyes on her hands where you held them away from any weapons, using your forearm connected to the hand holding the blade to her chest to keep her left hand from grasping anything.

“I won’t be asking again.” You tell her, which is as much of a threat as you can muster. Or, more so, a promise.

As Miguel pushed you back with a firm hand, throwing a machine at Gwen’s feet, you think she understands. If the two of you are ever in that position again, there will be no hesitation about it. You will kill her.

“Good work, kid.” Peter says as Miguel and Jessica get to work with getting your Green Goblin through a portal to the HQ. He glanced down at where your hand is now pressing into your side, blood pouring steadily. In your other hand, you still hold the blade that had pierced your own skin, that would have killed Gwen Stacy had she not surrendered. He winces as if it’s him who got hurt, and guides you through the portal after the others. “C’mon, we’ll get you checked out. You not got enhanced healing?” He asks, though you suspect he doesn’t expect you to answer, and you’re glad.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

“I can do this myself, you know.” You sigh, wincing as a Spider-man — who apparently is also a doctor and works in the Spider Society’s infirmary — stitches up the wound on your midsection. It’s uncomfortable, though less painful that when you do it yourself. Still, it’s uncomfortable to accept help from these strangers.

“Ooh, shouldn’t say that to him.” Peter B. Parker laughs, one of the many Peter Parkers of the Society, but the same one who had fought Green Goblin with you. “He’ll lecture you on proper healthcare for days if you give him the opportunity!”

The Spider-doctor glares at Peter, or you assume he does, from the slight squint of the lenses of his mask. He kisses his teeth under the mask, tutting, muttering about “Spiders and their complete disregard for their health. Lucky you haven’t died ten times over from infections.” But he doesn’t say anything that requires a response from you, and he soon finished up the stitches. He goes to offer to fix up the injury on your ankle, but you’re up on your feet before he can even get the words out.

“Now, I gotta get back home to the wife, but Miguel wants to see you. He’ll take you home,” Peter tells you as he walks out of the infirmary by your side, but he stops you in the hallway with a hand on your shoulder, surprisingly gentle. “If that’s what you want.”

Your eyebrows furrowed before you could stop them, and the confusion over his words must’ve been written all over your face.

“Why wouldn’t I want that?” You ask, defensively.

Peter opens his mouth, but nothing escapes. Instead, it’s his expression that tells you everything he’s thinking. The crease between his brows screams pitying, or sympathetic. He’s talking about the way you live back on your earth, about the life you lead, Arachnid by day, and by night. With no room for you, no room for your secret identity. He’s thinking of the way you’ll be returning to a world with nobody awaiting you, with not a soul to look out for you, to stitch you up after a battle. Nobody but yourself, anyway.

You pull away from him, brows furrowing further, into an almost angered expression, and you don’t watch the way his hand falls away from your shoulder back to his side. He sighs when you turn away, scoffing as you make your way through the hallways of the Lobby towards where you think Miguel will be.

It’s overwhelming, all of these people. They all believe that they know you, that they know your circumstances, your story, but the truth is that they don’t. Nobody does, and that’s the way you prefer it. You don’t need a Society of Spiders surrounding you, breathing down your neck, telling you they’re sorry, or not trusting you to handle yourself in your own fights, because you can handle yourself. You’ve spent the last year of your life trying to prove that, trying to prove that you can do good things, that you’re worthy of the title Arachnid. You certainly shouldn’t need to prove that to a whole Society of people like you, most of which had been doing the job a lot longer.

You’re capable and you’re content.

You don’t need a life as your secret identity to be content, in fact, it’s better without one. You don’t have to tell so many lies, don’t have to worry about hurting the people you love, because there are none of them left. There’s nobody to hurt, and there’s nobody to lie to. Why would you want to change that?

The hallway ahead looks familiar, and you follow it until you enter a room where Miguel stands, looking at orange tinted screens on a platform halfway up the room. You enter with the absolute certainty that you want to return to your own earth, and you’re not going to let anybody stop you.

“I’m ready.” You tell him, expectantly.

He scoffs, saying nothing, still staring at the screens in front of him. For whatever reason, the reaction makes you angry — inexplicably so. You’re slinging up to the platform before you can have a second thought about it, and you’re pushing his shoulder so he’ll face you, so he’ll acknowledge you.

He stares at you, unimpressed.

“Send me back to my earth.” You press, brows furrowed beneath your mask, but you’re sure he can see the anger in the way your shoulders tense up.

“Sure,” Miguel said blankly, staring at you as if you’d suddenly change your mind or something. “But you know, there’s a lot more like her.” He added on when you said nothing, waiting for him to send you back to your world so you could give him back the stupid watch still wrapped around your wrist.

You stared at him like he was speaking a foreign language. “There are no more like her.” You respond, feeling that hot press on your chest. You don’t want to talk about Gwen Stacy anymore than you’re sure he’d like to talk about whatever he had gone through in his life. Hell, you don’t even want to think about her, but you know that nobody else you would ever have to face would hurt you in the way that she did. In the way that having to see her as an enemy, rather than your friend, had hurt. So, yeah, there was nobody like her, not for you.

Miguel seems ready to let you go for a moment, but then he’s shaking his head at you. “You have a place here. You can be with people like you. You don’t have to do this alone, anymore.” He says, and you think that is ironic, because you don’t see anybody else in here. To you, it seems like he is doing exactly that; doing the job alone. You can practically see the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“I prefer being alone.” You tell him, and it has to be true. It has to be.

His jaw sets, acceptance, you think, and he nods. He glances past you, to where a portal was open on the floor below. Considering that you hadn’t seen him set up the portal, you’d wager that his AI Lyla must’ve listened in and done it for him. You pull the watch off of your wrist, relishing in the way your very atoms seem to sag with the weight of being in another dimension.

“Thanks.” You say, and drop down, landing on your sore ankle but not murmuring a word about the pain. You walk back to your world with your head held high, despite your tattered suit and multitude of wounds that would take days to stop hurting.

Miguel stares after you as the portal closes, eyebrows furrowed. He barely acknowledges Jessica Drew’s arrival in the room, already having known she had been lingering in the hallway, listening in. “Well, that went well.” She comments, glancing between where the portal had been and where Miguel stands, brooding. She knows how much pressure he puts on himself, and she knows that he cares about each and every Spider-person in the multiverse. It doesn’t take a Spider-sense to see the way in which you struggle. It’s a familiar struggle, sure, but there were so many Spiders across the multiverse who had a shoulder to lean on in their hardest times. Who did you have? There was no Aunt May for Arachnid, or Gwen Stacy, or Harry Osborne, or, well, anybody.

Jessica thinks that if anybody were to know exactly how that felt, it would be Miguel.

#heartpascal writes #across the spiderverse spoilers #atsv spoilers #spiderman atsv spoilers #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x platonic reader #jessica drew x platonic reader #peter b parker x platonic reader #peter b parker x reader #spiderverse x reader #spiderverse x platonic reader #spiderverse x you #spiderverse imagines #spiderverse one shot #spiderverse imagine #spiderverse angst #miguel o’hara angst #struggling idk how to tag with a new fandom shhh

[someonexsomeone]

Street By Street

Title: Street by Street

Author: SomeonexSomeone

Word Count: 3.5k

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Summary: It's really hard to love someone with everything you have when they have already lived.

Authors Note: guys!! its the first fic of Laufeyfest! I really wanted all of these stories to be love stories, but sometimes love stories are too easy. instead, how about a story that hurts mwahahaha

Miguel O’Hara was a man of a million expressions and emotions, but very few words. Though intimidating at first, it didn’t take long for anyone to listen to his short, clip sentences to realize that his care was beyond the measure of any normal person. His heart, despite being hurt, thumped with care for his city and its people, and his actions were always first and foremost to help those in need. It was, admittedly, that care that put you in his path.

It wasn't often that a civilian drew his attention. To be fair, most of his life had been surrounded by astounding people, whether the other geniuses that surrounded him in school, the classes he took at university, the capable scientists that worked alongside him at Alchemax, and even now, with the best the multiverse had to offer (though, he refused to admit that out loud to anyone but LYLA, the only other person who knew his complete plan). But, there was something about the way your eyes shinned in dedication, the absolute fury he saw on your face when the city treated its people poorly, the pride in the way your shoulders sagged after making progress in a corrupt city, that had him returning for more, whether it was stopping by to monitor you while you worked in a way so uniquely you, or to personally meet you in the lobby to once again say no, he didn’t have time to do a meet and greet at the Rec Center despite how great it was that you were fighting for union workers working the steam lines. He wanted to, more than he cared to admit, just to see that blinding smile he saw only occasionally thrown around whatever new project you were working on, but things were unstable right now. The dread in his stomach at the thought of being away from his computer long enough to let a world-destroying anomaly get away was too much, even for you. He did, however, feel his resolve slowly chip away whenever your posture slumped a little, despite the countless times he said no already, and bid a pleasant farewell with a promise to visit again soon.

“Don’t bother coming back”, slowly turned into, “I look forward to it” faster than even he could believe, and it surely didn’t help that the more Spiderpeople joined HQ, the more were there to witness his pathetic wave and gentle hand on your back as he lead you back to the front door. 

“You know,” Peter B remarked one day, appearing behind him with a giggling MayDay. Only a few months old and she was already a little ball of energy, squealing and making more noise than Miguel ever wanted to hear at work. “She really seems like a nice woman. You should give her a chance.”

“What would you know?” Miguel growled, spinning on his heel.

“I’m just saying, man. You got this whole miserable brute thing down pretty good, but it wouldn’t hurt to let yourself live a little.”

“I’ve done that already, and look how that turned out!” Peter B stepped back, whether for his own sake to escape Miguel’s wrath, or to protect MayDay he didn’t totally know. Miguel huffed, shaking his head once. “You know my story already. I’ve lived plenty, and we can’t afford any distractions while the Multiverse is falling apart-”

“I’m not saying you should give everything to go on a coffee date,” Peter B interjected, ignoring the glare Miguel sent him. “I’m just saying that you lived a life that wasn’t yours. Why not give this world a chance to make you happy? You know there won’t be any chance of anomaly here.”

“You don’t know that,” he snapped. Despite his annoying tendency to bring his child to work and butt in when he wasn’t needed, Miguel didn’t know if his frustration was from Peter B’s interference in his personal life…or the fact that he desperately wanted him to be right.

“Coffee. You can do that, can’t you?”

“And who will be here if something goes wrong? You?” Miguel huffed in amusement, nearly missing the slight smug twitch in his fellow spider’s smile. Peter B placed a hand on his larger companion's shoulder, willing himself to keep it there despite every nerve in his body twitching to take it away.

“Sure, I can do it, if you want.” Miguel eyed the hand on his shoulder. “You also have LYLA and Jess and even Ben.” They exchanged a single, pointed glance. “Okay, not Ben, but you do have people you can trust to notify you if anything goes wrong. And, besides, it’s not like you have to hide who you really are, unlike the rest of us..”

So, in a rare instance of trust, Miguel approached you and asked you out for coffee. 

Well, he really swung by while you were working downtown, scooping you up in his arms and bringing you to the quiet cafe inside HQ, demanding you tell him all about the fundraiser you approached him about last time. And, in a rare instance of admitting Peter B was correct, he didn’t have any regrets, not after your smile lit up your face, pulling out a folder from your bag to show him the plans.

Miguel was…to be honest, there wasn’t any word that could describe him better than odd. After a near year of being treated like every other average citizen to seeing him nearly every day to spending most nights together was a pattern you never expected to happen. Even more, you thought the unusual behavior was just that, unusual, but you had never met someone who could keep you on your toes so much. And, if you were honest with yourself, you loved every minute of it.

Yes, his demeanor would flip at the drop of the hat, but his morals never swayed from the dedicated man you loved. In a day you watched him badger a teenager before demanding they visit the medical ward for their injuries, pulverize a criminal on the street before swooping in to give you a gentle kiss, and throw a table across the room immediately after taking a selfie with his close digital companion. If you didn’t know him any better, you would be concerned for his health with the fluctuation in his mood, but there was something always stopping you from being afraid. 

That thing? The simple adoration in his eyes when they met yours. 

Being in his arms was always a pleasure, but you could stare into his eyes for hours without break, running your hands through his hair and just drinking in his entire being. Work would pass in a haze until you returned to his arms, and days off were spent walking around the HQ with him, staring longingly at him, and helping out where you could, which primarily meant distracting him when he started to bounce on his toes with impatience.

(Multiple Spiderpeople have caught you two sprawled on the couch in his office, you laying on top, just staring into his eyes and giving him gentle kisses every couple of seconds. It was the reason he now has a crude ‘Do Not Disturb. Idiots in Love’ sign outside his door that LYLA puts up near daily.)

So, when Miguel had to leave suddenly one morning, you thought nothing of it. HQ was needing him at any hour of the day, and being the protector of the multiverse was more than a simple 9-5 job. He planted a heavy kiss on your lips before departing, like he did every time (a silent apology for waking you up), and jumped from the landing outside your window. One glance at the clock, blinding numbers far too early to even comprehend, you rolled over and drunk in the scent he left behind on his warm side of the bed. Not seeing him that night was also not unusual, though you typically for some sort of message from him, just to let you know he was okay. Despite this, you tucked yourself into bed after a long day, ready to see him in the morning.

Then the morning came. By lunch, you still hadn’t heard anything. Dinner came and went. Then, two, three, four days and still not a word from Miguel. Now you were getting worried.

“LYLA?” you called into the watch on your wrist, legs crossed as you sat on your bed. A gift from Miguel if you ever needed something when he wasn't there, but you haven’t really had to use it recently. In fact, it took you over a minute just to clasp it around your wrist and find the button to turn the damn thing on, since it lived in your bedside drawer most days. Why have it on you when you were glued to Miguel’s side anyway?

“Hiya!” Her sudden appearance made you jump, a titling laugh escaping her digital lips. “What can I do for you?”

“Have you seen Miguel? I haven’t heard from him recently.” At this, her eyebrows furled.

“What?”

“Is he on a mission or something?” When she didn’t move, you clenched your fingers nervously. “I know I’m not really supposed to know any details but I figured maybe you could tell me if he’s okay or not. That’s something I’m allowed to know, right?” She continued to stand still like her model was completely frozen. “LYLA?”

“Sorry!” Her entire being glitched, bouncing up and down before swaying like she gave herself an electric shock. “I was just trying to see where Miguel’s watch was to let you know.” She gave you a pleasant smile, but there was something making the corners twitch suspiciously. “He’s currently at the cafe at HQ. I thought he was here with you this whole time.”

“With me? But he left five days ago and hasn’t come back. This is the first time I’ve heard anything.” Her smile turned completely.

“He hasn’t been with you? I thought…your watch is usually here so I didn’t even think to check…” She looked at your earnestly, before glitching again.

“LYLA? Is something wrong?”

“It’s just…he hasn’t let me come into the office recently, so I thought…And he hasn’t really been on duty since we had a minor anomaly warning the other day in the underbelly.” Your confused look turned to alarm. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Maybe he just found … something?”

“But wouldn’t he tell you?” When she didn’t say anything, you jumped up, practically throwing the watch around while you threw your jacket and shoes on. 

“Woah, woah, woah! What are you doing?”

“LYLA, he’s acting weird. Weirder than usual. If something’s going on…I need to know.”

“But you shouldn’t go out right now! It’s really late, and you have no one here to-” You smiled gently at her.

“I’ve lived here my whole life. Dedicated myself to it. Don’t worry, LYLA, I’ve walked these streets long before the protection of my Spiderman.” These reassurances didn’t do much to stop her from practically begging you to stay home and wait until the morning. You could hear her telling you she was threatening to send messages to Miguel that you were coming, threatening that she wouldn’t let you in the building so there was no point in going, even going as far as to activate the beeping notification on your watch that sent Miguel your location. You didn’t care. If something was bothering Miguel, you didn’t want him to be dealing with it alone, not after learning all about the near-debilitating, self-destructive depression he went through after losing his daughter.

HQ wasn’t close by any means, and your body was nearly frozen by the time you arrived at the front of it, too worried about Miguel to do anything about your pajamas. The building was burning like the brightest beacon, still managing to catch you in a moment of awe, before you approached the front doors. When you pulled on them, they rattled but didn’t open.

“LYLA?”

“I think you need to go home.” Her serious tone alarmed you.

Raising your arm so you were eye to eye, you stared at her. “What? LYLA, seriously what’s going on?” Her body glitched in and out on your wrist, her eyes flickering between you and the door. “If it was a mission or some Spiderman-related thing you would have just told me, so what’s really going on?” 

Her mouth opened and closed, before deciding on, “He’s in there with a woman.” Your eyebrows raised.

“Okay? A woman I know?” LYLA flinched but didn’t say anything. “LYLA, seriously. He’s a grown man, not some hormonal teenage boy. What woman?”

“I don’t want to tell you.”

“What?” She hesitated, then circled her hand in a motion you didn’t recognize. Beside her holographic body, a screen appeared. Miguel and a woman sat side by side, so close together that her side completely lined up with his. He was holding her hand gently, and her eyes were batting up at him, the HQ cafe’s sign brightly lighting up their faces so you could see their dual smiles. It took a double take to realize that, while you didn’t exactly recognize her, you did recognize her features. Your knees gave out, hitting the ground hard enough to bruise.

LYLA didn’t say anything, taking the photo away from your searching eyes.

“But...but…but…” Your brain couldn’t process it. What was Tempest doing here? You tried a few more times to form words, but your brain and your mouth refused to work together. Finally, they managed to form, “I don’t understand.”

“I didn’t want you to know.” Your eyes narrowed, mind stilling.

“You knew?” LYLA’s eyes widened.

“No!” Your skepticism was clear on your face. She winced. “Okay, I knew. But I promise that I didn’t know what was really happening.” You scoffed. “Miguel returned back from the investigation like he had seen a ghost. Then he asked me to replay the footage from the surrounding streets, and that’s when we saw her. He didn’t know that there would be a Tempest here! He left almost immediately after that, and when I saw his signal head towards you, I assumed…”

“But that doesn’t-”

“He brought her back to HQ later that night. He asked me to run scans on her and said he was going to distract her while I ran an analysis. That was it.”

“But it wasn’t, was it?!” Your furious tone made her flinch. Your eyes widened. “This is what you meant, wasn’t it? When you said he found something.”

“The scan came back negative for anomalies. She’s supposed to be here, she belongs in this world.” Your heart stopped.

“You mean…he has a chance…?”

“Any time I tried to get in contact with him that last couple of days, he told me he was off duty and that I should only contact him if there was an emergency. I thought…I was hoping he was spending it with you.” Your body was burning, the cold mixing with the chill that settled deep in your bones. Miguel, who you thought was the love of your life, had found something to bring back Gabriella, a second chance at the life that was cruelly taken from him. The happiness he had that, while he was very happy with you, didn’t stop you from catching him staring longingly at the only photo he had left of his daughter. “He loves you, you have to know that-”

“But why would he?” You ripped the watch off your arm, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “I just…I want him to be happy, more than anything. And I can’t…I can’t give him Gabriella.” LYLA started to protest, but you just shook your head. “Just…take care of him for me, okay?”

“No! Wait!” You placed the watch gently on the floor of the building. She continued to shout, the familiar ding of Miguel’s notification blasting rapidly. “Don’t leave! Please!”

You smile sadly at her, turning on your heel, taking the short walk back to the sidewalk with her voice slowly fading away. Despite your best efforts, tears spilled over, too large to allow you to see beyond your feet as they dragged along the pavement. Hiccuping sobs made your steps stagger, nearly crashing into the hedges that ran along the length of the Spider Society HQ. With a huff, you finally had to sit down, allowing the painful weeps to bubble over. Your heart was breaking into a million pieces, and your hands were shaking too much to catch the pieces.

“Hey! You there! Are you okay?” The voice was faint, barely audible over the whirling thoughts that muted everything around you. A figure crouched down in front of you, but it was still too hard to make out any features. ”Woah! Wait, what are you doing here? Where is Miguel?” The figure’s hands came into view, but they didn’t get close enough to touch you, only just enough to see that they hovered awkwardly in mid-air.

“...Peter?” you said softly after a minute, blinking rapidly enough to barely make his face. You pushed the heels of your hands into your eyes, wiping away as many tears as you could. “What..what are you doing here?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” He finally settled on patting your head, though you could tell it did not come as easy to him as it did when he did the same to his daughter. “Why are you out here?”

“I, um…” You huffed. “I was just leaving.”

“Leaving?” You nodded.

“Yeah. I, uh…,” Think brain! Come on! “...am about to start a new project at work that will take me away for a while so I just wanted to say goodbye to everyone. I didn’t realize how late it was though.” Finally clear-visioned, you made eye contact with the Spider person you had come to know the most, smiling gently at him. “I didn’t think I would be seeing you, though.”

“I’m on patrol tonight since Miguel couldn’t be here.” Your heart panged dangerously hard. “I thought for sure-”

“I’m glad I was able to see you before I left,” you interrupted, pulling yourself to your feet. Peter B just stared in confusion, slowly rising after you. “It’s so last minute, I was just going to send you a message through L-LYLA,” you pushed through the stutter, “but now I can give you a real goodbye.” You hugged him fiercely. Peter B hesitated only a moment before hugging you back. 

Your knees almost gave way at the comfort he provided, your arms locking even more. You were going to miss him, dearly. Now that Miguel had found his real love, where would that leave you in the mess that was the Spider Society? There was no reason for you to come back, not when Miguel was the only reason you went in the first place, but there were people in there you had come to care deeply for. Surely they would come out once in a while, maybe you could catch them then? Or maybe you could just walk up to the building like you always did, requesting LYLA to send them down so you guys could get something to eat together? The thought of your new friends made the pit in your stomach grow.

What would you do now? You had been so wrapped up in Miguel the last couple of months that you weren’t even sure what was going on on the day-to-day. Work had been so far from your mind that you had only taken on small projects here and there, leaving the bigger decisions to others so you wouldn’t have to stray so far from HQ. You hadn’t met up with your old friends and coworkers in months, let alone without Miguel at your side. Would they even want you back? How could they, when you had essentially broken their trust in you by picking a man over your friends, your work, your city? 

You pushed your head into Peter B’s chest further, allowing yourself just a moment more of his support. 

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay?” His voice broke your swirling thought cycle, jolting you back to reality. You gently let him go, twitching your face into the best smile you could muster.

“I’m fine,” you lied, “just tired from all the preparation. I need to be heading back though.”

“Let me take you.” Before you could protest, he stopped you with a raised hand. “Please.” You smiled again, this time a little more sincere.

“Thank you, Peter.”

After arriving home, you rushed to your laptop, typing the fastest message you could to your coworkers. After a minute, the late crew chimed back, more than happy to have you on board for the underbelly project they were having a hard time finding a leader for. Their enthusiastic, praising messages brought a smile to your face. 

This time, you swore, Miguel was going to get his happy ending, and you were going to get yours.

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masterlist  l What is Laufeyfest? l Laufeyfest masterlist

#miguel o'hara imagine #miguel x reader #niguel o'hara one shot #laufeyfest #miguel o'hara x you #reader insert #spiderverse imagine #miguel imagine #spiderverse one shot #spiderverset angst #miguel o'hara imagines #miguel ohara fic #miguel ohara imagine #atspv x reader #miguel x you #miguel ohara x you

[wyvernest]

mating szn

part 1 (part2)

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!gf!reader

warnings: smut, fluff, scent marking, primal play, rutting miguel, possessiveness, reader is ovulating

summary: miguel comes home feeling extremely needy

You're preparing dinner when you hear the opaque glass doors of your shared mansion open for your lover to come in. It's almost midnight, and it doesn't take you longer than a few seconds to realize how tired he has to be.

Miguel walks into the open kitchen, frowning. 

"Baby! I missed you!" You jolt to him, pans clattering dangerously as you throw them aside, careful enough not to ruin your work but swiftly enough to get to him as fast as possible.

You curl your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes, pressing your chest flush against his hard pecs. His hands grab at your hips, absentmindedly and by habit.

"What's wrong?". You place a gentle, loving hand on his cheek, trying to meet his gaze. But he's not looking at you. His eyes are darting all over your face and body, brows still creased. 

He could feel it, your scent. A collection of the whole day, everything you've done. The food, the places you've been. He feels like it's been so long since this morning, when he woke up beside you, kissing along your neck. 

He feels a surge of blood rush from his heart and through his lucidity, a shot of adrenaline inexplicably taking over him.

You don't smell of him anymore. Anger bubbles in his chest as he thinks of all the people you must've talked to around HQ, who didn't smell his strong musk on you, who had no idea you belonged to him.

He's never felt like this before. He brushes the unfamiliar feeling aside for a moment, grounded by the silent plea in your eyes.

"I'm good. Just a bit tired." He brushes wild strands of baby hairs out of your face, finally matching the loving look you've greeted him with from the start.

He leaves you to finish the meal and steps into the shower, hoping that an ice cold stream would cool him down. Only it doesn't do anything but worsen the situation.

The second he feels the water spray hit his body, he flinches, unlike the usual relief he gets. His skin is abnormally feverish, the ghost of your body in his arms taunting him further into madness. He soon finds himself desperate to get out, to be reunited with you and the warmth only you could ever provide for him.

Images of your supple body breaking in his embrace flood his already lust crazed mind against his better judgment, and he feels his cock fatten slightly at the memory.

When he takes it in his hand, he nearly starts bucking his hips into his hold, sensitive and insanely needy. He imagines you in the bathtub with him, arching your back over the edge, spreading your legs for him to pound his cock into you under the hot stream, your moans echoing and ringing into the stone tiles.

He can't take it anymore. His body aches for your touch and attention.

Exiting the shower, he pulls a pair of loose boxers up his thighs, the only thing he can tolerate with the fever that has taken hold of him so suddenly.

And then, he focuses on the image of you, standing where he left you, gently stirring in a bowl. You're wearing one of his t-shirts, draped down to the middle of your thighs and over your elbows, an oversized dress. 

He approaches you, wrapping his arms around your front and waist, dropping a fraction of his weight on your back just to keep you from moving or fighting against it. You throw your head back, closing your eyes.

His head drops to your neck, kissing here and there, exhales smoldering hot on your throat, stopping momentarily to deeply inhale your scent. Among all others, there is a distinctive smell of you, of your arousal and need for him that drives him mad.

"Wait- Miguel, let me finish this-" You protest, your creamy tone betraying your true intentions. 

He groans, kissing your naked shoulder, his hands squeezing your form in front of him. 

All tasks are ultimately abandoned as he pushes you against the counter, his defined abs hitting your back, the marble surface cold against your thighs. He presses his fat, hard cock up against your plush ass, his hands fondling your breasts through his shirt, groaning low and quiet in your ear. 

With his biceps curled and constricted around your navel, your body goes limp in his hold, trembling ever so slightly as his warm, broad palms squeeze the soft flesh of your tits. He pushes them together, massaging gently, almost experimentally. He flattens them with the heels of his palms softly, only to them constrict his fingers around them so perfectly, fondling and groping away.

"Mm- Miguel, oh-" You breathe out, finding balance on your hands, arching your back into him. You feel your core pulsate with need, swelling up under his movements. You're almost completely wrapped up in his massive body, with nowhere to go. 

And just then, you accidentally knock a knife off the counter, startled when it hits the marble floor with a loud clank. He jumps, backing up from your body. Your face is flushed, eyes half lidded, breath heavy, nipples perked under the thin cotton. Landing back to your senses, you move to bend down and pick it up.

His eyes automatically snap to your round ass and the dark wet spot on your panties that invites him so blatantly to shove his cock in between your pussy lips. 

He can't help it. He can't control himself anymore.

Balance leaves your position as you feel his rough, eager hands grip your hips, harshly pulling you back into him. The plumpness of your ass hits the girthy shaft of his cock, but before you can look for the lost balance with your hands in front of you, he thrusts his erection up against your clothed cunt, making you whine in need.

"Ay, mi amor-" His voice is rugged and satisfied, laced with a deep groan. A broad palm hits the side of your behind, making the tender flesh ripple against his hard-on. "Te necesito muchísimo ahora." (I need you so badly right now.)

You yelp, perplexed, instinctively grabbing his wrists for balance. He pulls you up with your back against his chest, splaying a cursory hand across your abdomen, sending shivers thundering down your spine and butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

"Miguel!" You playfully fight against his possessive hold, "Is this your way of helping me prepare dinner?!" You free yourself, giggling and letting a wide smile take over your features. Stepping back and extending your arms in front of you in an attempt to shield yourself from him, you chuckle wholeheartedly.

Seeing you resist, he lets out a defeated exhale.

"Fine. I'll be good, lo prometo." (I promise). He motions for you to come closer and trust that he'll behave. Letting your guard down, you approach the counter, eyes fixated on his playfully.

He feels your body heat nearing him, so comfortable and tempting. The smell of you, and everything that drives him crazy about your presence alone. His breaths deepen and quicken abruptly, his cock straining in his boxers, twitching freely against the material, begging to be enveloped in your wet warmth.

He looks down at you like a panther about to pounce, waiting for the perfect moment to do so. Your smile curls wider, eyes shining with lust and a teasing playfulness. His body dwarfs yours, his shadow alone making you feel puny. His shoulders are tense, the same way they are when he's on top of you, riding you into next Tuesday.

He shifts to place a clawed hand on the counter, the sharp edged digits tapping against the surface catching your attention momentarily in the corner of your eye. He exploits the split second it takes you to look down to his arm, snapping and squatting to grab your thighs, throwing you over his shoulder.

"NO! You promised! Miguel! The food!" You try to reason, throwing any and each accusation you can think of, knowing that you definitely don't want him to drop it and leave you alone, truly. And he knows it. 

And that's when he feels it. With your ass on his bulky shoulder, he can smell it. Your arousal, dripping hot. His fat cock finally hardens completely, its monstrously girthy shaft poking through the shorts. 

You're ovulating.

Groaning ruggedly, he delivers a rough spank to your plump ass before pushing two fingers over the wet mound of your clothed pussy, running them over your slit, teasingly, collecting more of your scent.

He swears the only thing stopping him from fucking you raw right on the kitchen floor is your comfort.

"Okay! You win! Put me down, I'll let you fuck me."

Without a second thought, he places you back on the floor, hands on your hips, talons grazing your tender skin deliciously.

His eyes have reddened, pupils blown wide, exhales hot and labored. You don't want anything more than to wrap your arms around his neck, to press yourself into him, to feel his hard abdomen on your stomach, his pecs on your soft tits, his mouth on your neck.

But you want to see more of how needy he is.

You jolt to the stairs with no warning, climbing the winding wooden steps like a cat. You hear him behind you, his weight put onto each movement as he chases close behind, the staircase creaking under him.

Looking behind before reaching the hallway of the first floor of your mansion, you feel your panties dampen at the sight of the man and the sheer size of him, massive shoulders slightly hunched forward in focus and adrenaline, his height successfully making you stagger on your way to the bedroom.

divider by @cafekitsune

HOPE YALL LIKE IT IMMA CONTINUE ‼️‼️

a/n: primal play is thoroughly discussed beforehand. insisting that your partner has sex with you even after resistance without having discussed the aforementioned resistance is abusive.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x reader one shot #miguel o hara #atsv miguel #miguel smut #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o’hara smut #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miguel x reader #spider verse #spider man 2099 #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #across the spiderverse #oscar issac characters #oscar isaac

[inkdrinkerworld]

idk if it’s weird but do you know that thing where you grab your boobs for comfort?? imagine doing that to miguel 😭😭

omg omg😭😭

you're laying in bed unable to fall asleep when it happens. your hand just creeps up his shirt.

miguel doesn't think much of it, you like the skin in skin contact- so does he.

it's when your hand hovers just under his pectorals that he turns to you and raises an eyebrow.

he's still working, hair tired back with one of your scrunchies and his tablet looks tiny in his massive hand. he'd been trying to hypothesise a re-calibration to his nano-bots all day.

"what do you want?" he asks, looking down at you with curious eyes.

your eyes are barely even open, your face turned to face his bicep. "can't sleep," you murmur, planting your hand on his chest and squeezing.

"oye," he bats at your hand when you do it a second time. you groan when his hand removes yours from under his shirt.

"miguel," you whine, drawing the syllables of his name out long.

"amor," he mocks your exact tone. "why're you grabbing my chest?" he drops your hand and cups your face, guiding your tired eyes to rest on his face.

"'cos it's comforting," your words sludge together but miguel makes you out just fine. he cracks a smile, you narrow your barely open eyes; "it is. helps me sleep."

"yeah?" he teases, and you nod. your hand slinks back up his shirt and rests on his chest, for the most part it's just an added heat to miguel's chest. "if you don't fall asleep any faster i'm calling bullshit."

you let out a tired giggle and slobber a kiss to his bicep; miguel waits five minutes and in no time he feels your breathing change- deeper now as you fall asleep.

he can't believe it.

#miguel o’hara x you #miguelo'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x yn #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara drabble #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara x black!reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fanfiction #across the spiderverse #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o hara fanart #atsv #miguel o’hara one shot #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara x black!reader

[messylustt]

Going without a bra in your spider suit because you only need to report to Miguel and then your changing so why bother? Completely forgetting that you have your nipples pierced, meaning Miguel can see the barbells and your nipples through the skin tight suit. He’s going feral: both because of the image of them and that someone else would have had to see your naked breasts in order to pierce them.

you were pierced where? — miguel o’hara ( nsfw ). oml—hfndkkkdkkem.

miguel was busy, staying distracted with the nearing mission as he listened to lyla. but the moment you walked in, all suited up and ready, his hard gaze and body simultaneously tensed and widened. because what were wearing? your spider suit, yes. but it was what was poking through that caught miguel’s attention. his eyes grew fixated on your tits as you walked in alone, and oblivious. he quickly waved lyla away, jumping down and stepping closer to you.

“what are you wearing? or should I say…what aren’t you wearing?” miguel speaks slowly, and lowly. you glance down at yourself. he’s seeming to really focus in on the fact that your nipples look pierced — the metal bars poking through. you had chosen not to wear anything under your suit today. it was only going to be you and miguel. you glance back up at him. “what? it’s just you this mission.” you say, thinking it’s about the ‘no bra’ situation. but miguel isn’t focusing on the fact that anyone else could see you, because someone else has seen you.

he steps much closer, his gaze hardening again. “when did you get them pierced?” he asks, his teeth grinding. you look down again. “oh…” you drift off. “a few days ago.”

“a few days ago?” miguel reiterates harshly. “and you…what? didn’t think to tell me?”

“well i was gonna tell you. i am telling you. right now.” you smile, and miguel’s lips twitch in a snarl. “no no, you can’t just decide that.”

“what do you mean — ” but your words are dying off because miguel is now breathing over you. his towering position actually making you gulp. “who did it?” he asks.

and his almost calm tone is making your breathing increase. “uh…someone who does piercings…” you say, eyeing him. “look, miguel, it’s not that big of a de — ”

“who. did. them?” miguel interrupts, his red eyes nearly making you flinch. “i didn’t catch his name.” you mutter, moving to bypass miguel. “now, don’t we have a mission — ”

miguel’s hand is now tightly wrapped around your upper arm, halting your movement. “his?” he asks slowly, as you move to step away again, only earning miguel to yank you back into his chest, as he grabs your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “a guy pierced them?” he double checks the fact that is making his claws itch to sink into something. “a professional did.” you point out, grabbing his wrist to remove his hold.

when he doesn’t shift you instead decide to quickly lean up to place a quick kiss on his lips as a small distraction. that gives you a moment of looseness in his wrist, for you to take his hand away, but then miguel is slipping his hand to the back of your neck, drawing you back in for a more heated kiss. his lips drawing you even closer as he nearly snarls past your teeth, tongues clashing.

but then you’re drawing back and miguel has the urge to sink his fangs into your bottom lip, because why were you moving away?“miguel, we’re working.” you quietly say, darting your gaze around as if you’d see gaping spider-people. but miguel is leading you back, the empty office exactly that. empty. his hands are now purchased around your waist, pulling your lower body against his.

“are you sure you can’t give me a name?” miguel has started placing sloppy kisses along your jaw, as your back hits the wall. “hm?” he’d ruin the guy who touched you. he needed something to sink his claws into with all this pent up jealousy. “i told you…i didn’t catch it…it’s not like we grew close — ”

“but that’s exactly what you were.” miguel interrupts, grabbing part of your neck and jaw again as his breath hits your slightly parted lips. “…close. he was especially close. touching you.” his fangs are now visible with how much he spat the words. “that’s what they do, miguel.” you try to console.

“he stayed professional — ” he keeps cutting you off, mouth now up close and open against your own. “but they’re mine, cariño…mine to touch, mine to play with…” his clawed hand moved to trace over your spider suit covered nipples, feeling the metal bar, as you flinch a fraction.

“aw…” he coos. “they feel hard, cariño…” then he’s leaning towards your ear. “were they hard for him?” you shake your head. but miguel persists. “of course they were. i know how sensitive you can be. and by someone touching them, you would have started to feel…hot…down here…” he runs two claws down your stomach and over your pussy, making your hips shift.

“…isn’t that right?” your breathing is shallow, as he goes to rub experimentally through your suit, his lips now re-attaching to your skin, drawing the edge of your suit down to lick at your neck, making your pulse quicken. “next time you want help involving things like this…” his claw dragged back across your nipples. “…you’ll come to me.” he grabs your chin again, forcing you to agree. “won’t you?”

you quickly nod, your tongue darting out to lick your lips. miguel’s lips finally curve up in a smile. “but since he got to see you all flushed and turned on…i get to see you writhing and spread open under me…that’s sounds about right, doesn’t it?…yeah.” miguel moves your head in a nod, before his hand is dropping back to your throbbing pussy. “there’s a good girl…”

© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms.

#. ( spidey mark ) #the miguel effect #glitter dose #miguel fucking o’hara #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara fic #miguel x you #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara across the spider verse #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara one shot #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x you #atsv #atsv x you #atsv smut #atsv blurb #miguel brainrot #across the spider verse #spiderman 2099 #18+ #smut

[winterzsurprise]

Ride me? || Miguel O'hara

Pairing: Miguel O'hara (Spider-Man 2099) x F!reader

Tags: Overstimulation, rough sex, choking, squirting, vaginal fingering, big dick Miguel, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), fang kink if you squint.

Words: 1.8k

Summary: Just when you thought he's exhausted enough from chasing Miles Morales and had given you the chance to actually ride him, Miguel has other plans.

This man evokes something so feral in me that I forgot I was suffering through the worst writer's block. He got me giggling and twirling my hair yesterday at the cinema wtf. I used my very limited Mexican Spanish knowledge from watching streamers flirting in a block game for this.

cariño - honey || mi vida - my life || mi amor - my love || guapito - handsome

Miguel isn't the type to let someone control the pace, even if he did, his hands grounded on your waist would soon guide your hips into a rhythm he prefers, hard and fast.

You've been hearing the ruckus down the spider webs, something about another version rebelling against the usual stories of every Spider-Man in the multiverse to save his dad. Knowing that your husband sits at the top as their leader, you expected him to disappear for a long period of time.

Not that you mind of course, he's had plenty of times he charges in to handle an anomaly himself.

You do have to give some kudos to the kid for trying to change reality though. After Miguel's story, nobody in the headquarters, even you, dared to defy the fates laid upon every Spider-Man.

It's been three days since he left and honestly, you didn't expect him to arrive yet. A person deterring from the fates of every Spider-Man would be hard to handle, you couldn't even imagine how difficult it'd be.

So when the doors to your apartment flew open and came to him, practically drooping from exhaustion, you were surprised.

He came earlier than expected.

"How'd the chase go?"

"I don't want to talk about it. Come here." 

Drying your hands off on the towel hanging from the wall counter, you made your way to the man laid spread and heaving on the couch. His head tipped back with his usually neatly gelled hair now haggard and messy, he looked up when he sensed your presence and immediately pulled you onto his lap.

You laughed. "Don't fall asleep here, I don't want to carry your heavy ass."

His lips tugged into a weak smile, his pointy canines briefly appearing.

"Spider-Man is supposed to help the weak, are you really ignoring a civilian in need?"

You didn't get what he meant until he pulled your hips closer, dragging your core over the tent on his pants.

You hit his arm. "Go to sleep, you must've been really tired after chasing that kid around."

"Then ride me."

You paused before narrowing your eyes at him. He's baiting you with the very thing you've wanted to do since the beginning. But the dark cloud of lust in his eyes somehow convinced you of his genuineness.

His talons dug onto your flesh, hard enough to take control of your hips to grind on top of his dick sensually while keeping eye contact with yours. You couldn't ignore the pleasure and jolts of heat electrifying and burning your nerve endings alight at every drag of your heat over his.

"I want to feel you baby, I miss you so much."

Miguel pushes you down on his hardness and you moan, the feeling of his girth finding home between your legs shot electric pleasure down your spine.

"You are a convincing man."

"And you love it."

You lunged for a kiss and instantly, one of his hands threaded itself onto the back of your head, locking you in place as your lips danced against each other in a fierce battle. The raw hunger after being starved for a week now surfacing and consuming you both, mind and body. 

His other hand guided your hips up and down his clothed dick, his deep groans and growl lit fireworks in you, igniting your determination to coax more of them out of his lips.

"Get rid of the pants or I'll rip it off of you."

"Rip it then."

He didn't need to hear you twice. 

In one quick motion, he tore your sweatpants into two before doing the same thing to your panties and throwing them somewhere in the room. He groaned as his head fell onto the crook of your neck, hands crawling up to cup your breasts before your top and bra suffered the same fate as your other clothing.

"The pants, only the pants! I loved that bra!"

"I'll buy you something better, from another universe even." He responded, almost breathless as your scent invaded every speck of his senses. Miguel groaned. "Fuck, I miss this scent of yours baby."

"I don't care, get rid of the suit."

His attire dissolved into thin air and retracted back to god-knows-where, revealing his ruffled shirt and grey sweatpants that did nothing but proclaim his clear desire for you.

"Let me prep you real good, huh?"

Retracting his talons, two of his fingers delved into your heat, immediately drenching itself with your arousal and he groaned.

"So wet for me, mi amor."

"Only for you, guapito."

Two of his digits rolled your clit sensually and with the dexterity of an experienced man, urging more of your arousal to coat his fingers further. Once he was satisfied with the amount of fluid now dripping into his pants, he wandered lower and lower until he plunged his index in, curling it up so deliciously you moaned and grinded your hips onto the slow plunge of his hand.

His eyes watched your heat like a ravenous man holding back, the feral look on his face only pulled you closer to the edge.

And it's only a finger in.

"So tight, mi vida. You treat me so well."

He added two fingers in and you screamed, his pace now rapidly gaining speed. Your eyes rolled back as your hips thrashed and clumsily followed his thrusts, there was nothing else that mattered more than coming for your darling in that moment.

Miguel groaned, watching your face twist into the most sinful display of pleasure he has ever seen. The pride and smugness from knowing it was all because of him made him smile.

Only he could see you in such a state and no one else.

You clenched around his digits, tempting him to finally take the dive. Although his fingers coaxed pleasure out of you with no problem, you missed the feeling of his dick carving your insides, stretching you thin and reminding your cunt who it belongs to.

But Miguel ignored the bait and instead hastened up while curling up to push on your g-spot. You almost blacked out from the euphoria he feeds you, a coil in your stomach tightened and you moaned.

"I'm cl-close… Fuck!"

"Give it to me baby, I want it all."

It didn't last long until the coil exploded and your arousal squirts out of your cunt to drench Miguel's shirt, whose gaze turned a shade darker at the scene when you peered down to meet his gaze.

A tense atmosphere rose from his mere gaze and goosebumps prickled your skin. Your heartbeat jumped through the roofs as you stared back at his dark eyes, he triggered your spidey sense.

And for some sick reason, it only ignited the simmering arousal in the pits of your abdomen.

"Fuck the ride, you're not getting up until I say so, cariño."

You barely sensed him flipping you both, with you now seated and spread on the sofa while he stood in front of you, hastily removing his remaining clothing as if it angered him.

It didn't take long until his hand cautiously wrapped around your neck and his other, pinning your hips as he plunged himself deep into your cunt. You screamed as he pushed more of him, inch by inch. He stretched you out to the point of no return, the burn of his cock carving you open once more made you light-headed.

And he loves nothing more but seeing the cock-drunk look on your face.

Miguel grinned, his fangs protruding so attractively. "God, I love how fucked you look for me, cariño. Give me more."

He pulls and plunged himself back in, shooting hot white pleasure in your body. Miguel didn't wait long before his usual hard and rough pace started. The hand around your throat tightened and your mind turned woozy from the lack of oxygen, his thrust taking your breath away only evoking the feeling of nirvana within you.

He drove in you hard and quick enough you can distantly hear the couch legs wincing as it gets pushed back with every plunge of his dick.

"Fuck…!"

"That's right darling, I'm fucking my sweet cariño open and wide for me."

The electric shocks the head of his cock briefly grazing the head of your uterus sent your legs flailing on his sides. Growing bothered by them, he halts to rest them on his wide shoulders and wraps his arm around your thigh before entering somehow deeper into you.

Your hands found his meaty thigh and dug itself onto it and it encouraged him to go even faster, pushing you closer to the edge and you swore you could see the pearly gates of the heavens.

"I'm co-coming…! Miguel!"

"Give it to me baby, you know how much I love seeing you convulse so helplessly around me."

The hand on your throat left to find purchase on your clit, rubbing you as fast his cock plunges into you.

With a scream, you came. 

Your legs trembled violently on his shoulder as more of your arousal spurts out of your heat, white hot pleasure burned and stirred every nerve ending awake as your eyes rolled back.

But this doesn't seem to be enough for Miguel who only took a break to see your thighs convulse before continuing his thrusts.

You hit his thighs as he kickstarted another orgasm now bubbling in the pit of your stomach but he paid no heed. 

Not that you minded of course, if anything, it only pleases the sick bastard in your head, wishing to be used and fucked so well by your husband like it's your sole purpose.

"I'm so close, baby. Can you give me another one? Surely you can, right?"

His fingers rubbed your clit to the point of pain yet it somehow enhanced the pleasure growing larger in your chest and you screamed. Miguel bent down to rest his sweaty forehead on your shoulder, in the clouded state you were in, you could make out the sharp points of his canines pushing down your skin.

The threat of his bite shot jolts down to your heavily beaten cunt, once again tightening its coil. The frequent groans and low growls escaping his lips alone told you he's near to climax.

And with that, he's dragging you down with him.

"Please please please, give it to me…!"

"Yes, cariño. Anything, Anything for you."

With a couple of thrust, scorching hot explodes inside of you and Miguel slows down, almost into a halt as he rides down his high. The face of pure unadulterated ecstasy painting his face, along with his fingers, you came with another shout.

When he's calmer, he lets his sweaty body fall into your arms before reaching around to do the same. 

As your breathing returns to normal and the fog in your head clears, Miguel places a gentle kiss on your temple and cheeks.

"I love you so much, cariño."

"I love you more, guapito."

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara imagine #spider-man: into the spiderverse fics #spider man: across the spider verse fics #spider-man fics #spider-man smut #miguel o'hara x reader one shot #miguel o'hara one shot

[madschiavelique]

Hi Ily

Miguel who says he doesn’t want kids after gabriella but secretly tries to breed reader 🤭 breeding press, ass up head down, missionary but he holds knees up to readers chest afterwards for a minute? Anytime reader confronts this he denies it LOL lowkey gaslighting them

GN reader tyyy

aww ily too nony !! hope u like it hehehe

summary : miguel said he didn't want kids after gabriella... but sectrely tries to breed you content warnings : SMUT (18+) minors dni, pnv sex, breeding kink, scent kink (miguel can smell reader's ovulating), gn!reader, no use of Y/N word count : 627 tag list : @fandom-ash

A moan washed through your hot breath against Miguel's cheek as he thrust into you once more, making you feel as if he were buried even deeper within you.

Your calves rested on his shoulders while your knees were on either side of your head, grazing your ears.

"Miguel-" you swallowed as your voice caught in your throat, "I'm too full."

But that was all he was looking for.

Miguel had raised your hips, pressed your legs against you to drive his cock even deeper into you. He had to touch you to the core, make sure his cum would fill you completely and guarantee that you would bear his children.

You were already full, but he had to go on and finish one more time, as much for his own pleasure as to make sure you'd end up pregnant.

He could already picture you, your rounded belly that he caressed and kissed as you carried the fruit of his success inside you.

His chest was pressed against the soft skin of your thighs, his fingers gripping one of them firmly as he moved down to kiss your neck before only pulling his head back to admire the view.

He had before him the most sublime vision of all, your gaze all hazy and dumb fucked, breasts pressed and cunt just taking him perfectly.

His pupils turned red, his rhythm quickening while he let out low grunts as he came to kiss you.

He couldn't think of anything else, his only thoughts all focused on breeding you. He had to make sure you were full enough so that, if he pressed down on your belly, hi cum would drip out of you excessively.

Your mouth whimpering his name, your nails tracing long lines down his back and leaving crescent moon marks in his arm, your smell...

You were ovulating, and that's what made it so uncontrollable. That plump, warm, irresistible smell - how could he control himself when you smelled like that? You were ready for him, your body itself caressing his deepest instincts.

Your walls were so warm, enveloping him to perfection.

"Take it all in," he growled as he felt himself coming, accelerating harder inside you.

He bit into your neck, licking the trail he'd left. His scent mingling with yours was just so exceptional, he couldn't get rid of it, and didn't want to : it felt like pure heaven.

He grunted with a final thrust as he sank deep inside you, feeling his cum filling you all warm once more as you moaned at the sensation.

He came to press his forehead to yours, breathing open-mouthed before coming to kiss you, not moving from the position. He was still buried deep in you, making sure you stayed full and nothing came out.

"Are you... trying to get me pregnant?" you murmured against him, still breathless as Miguel nuzzled his head into your neck, inhaling your intoxicating scent.

He bit his lip and wrinkled his nose. He knew well that you suspected his convictions about not wanting any more children were dubious.

"Don't you like being so full of me, mami?" he'd asked, hoping to deflect the conversation.

"I do, but-" he came to kiss you, cutting you off.

"But what?" his voice was calm, honeyed.

"You said-" but he interrupted you again.

"What I said didn't matter." he sighed as he kissed your cheek, grinning against it as he came back to face you. "But what matters more to me now is that you admitted to liking it."

He raised your hips a little higher even than before, bringing his fingers against your clit which drew a moan from you.

"Then you won't mind if I continue."

Good things can always be overindulged.

#madschiavelique ⟢ ݁ ˖‧˚₊ ☁︎ #mads' requests ⟢ ݁ ˖‧˚₊ ☁︎ #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 one shot #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel x reader #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #miguel spiderman #miguel astv #miguel atsv #atsv #atsv smut #atsv miguel

[cupcakeinat0r]

<3 Valentine’s Breakfast w/ DadBod!Miguel <3

[NSFW]

With the sun rays flowing in through the curtains, your eyes flutter open, your blurred vision focusing in on the gorgeous man lying on top of you. This is usually how it is. You start the night laying on his hairy and soft chest, but after tossing and turning through the night, you two never failed to end up in this position. It sort of just happens. You believe it’s Miguel’s need to protect you in every sense of the word, so he just absentmindedly engulfs you in his sleep.

Miguel was a big man. In every way. It was sort of hard to breathe when he was on you like this.

But that was more than ok. In fact, you thrived on the feeling of all his body weight on yours, his face snuggled deep into the crook of your neck and his Herculean arms wrapped around you, not too tight, but just enough so that you weren’t going anywhere. And yes, his snoring was loud, but you learned to love it, it becoming the music to your ears on mornings like this.

It only takes you a few seconds for it to click.

It’s Valentine’s Day.

You smile to yourself, excited about all things you have planned for Miguel. But first… to figure out how the hell you were gonna get Gigantor off of you.

Unable to move, your head isolated, you look around for ideas. With your free hand, you reach for the blanket, slowly pulling it off of him in hopes he’ll move off of you to wrap himself in it again. Your idea succeeds, and he frees you just enough for you to sneak off the bed.

In the most cautious way humanely possible, you sneak out of the room (not before you softly kiss his forehead) and into the kitchen. You weren’t too worried, though. Miguel didn’t get to sleep in a lot like this due to his work, but when he did, not even a geographical disaster could wake him. You were safe.

You start listing in your head all the things you remembered you wanted to make him.

Your hands were ace in the kitchen. Everything you made, Miguel loved. One of his favorite parts of the day was coming home after a long day of work and into the arms of his cute sweet little housewife, a plate of delicious warm food already ready for him on the table. It’s kinda funny; it’s you he blames for his weight gain, but you always reply with how much you absolutely love him that way, accompanied by a kiss and a playful smack to his juicy butt (which has also gotten larger, props to you).

You slave away in the kitchen, making sure everything was perfect, even down to exacting the edges of your heart-shaped pancakes, which matched the heart-shaped strawberry slices.

You go to check on the sleeping giant. He’s still knocked out thankfully, except he’s on his back now, hugging a pillow (thinking it’s you no doubt). Aw.

You notice that the blanket wasn’t on him anymore, which allowed you a beautiful view.

His dark wavy hair sprinkled with hints of gray tussled from his sleep. His 5 o'clock shadow framing his perfect, dark, plump lips. His thick neck, chest and arms, peppered with dark hair as well, resting beautifully. His soft midsection, rising and falling with each dad snore. Near his happy trail was a prominent tent, the print of his huge cock tightening his briefs. You bit your bottom lip at his morning wood. God, this man was too perfect for his own good. You could feel yourself salivate as you remind yourself of all the other things you had to get to like decorations or lighting the candles or the rose petals…

It doesn’t take much for you to give into your urges. He won’t miss the candles or any decorations anyways…

He’ll appreciate what you’re about to do way more.

You silently climb onto the foot of the bed, your face dangerously close to the bulge. You give it a small caress, your hands gently molding around the shaft on top of the fabric of his boxers. You look up when you evoke a barely audible groan from Miguel, who’s still asleep.

You apply just a little more pressure in your next caress, this time making his dick twitch and his hips faintly buck up into your hand, his instinctive neediness signaling you to proceed with your lustful endeavor.

You then lift the band of his boxers, his completely hardened cock immediately springing up. You have to literally suck in your lips to muffle a moan.

Your eyes drink in his perfectly shaped bush at the end of his delicious happy trail, the pumped veins going up his shaft, the singular drop of pre-cum already running down, and finally his fat tip. He was perfect.

You use the juice already there as lubricant, slowly stroking his dick, the other hand on his thick, hairy thigh for support.

You start to feel Miguel‘s thighs contract and hips slightly bucking up some more, little grunts escaping his lips. His arms tense up as well, his muscles clenching around the poor pillow.

His small, slow thrusts drove you crazy, not able to wait any longer to put your mouth to use. You test the waters by giving his tip soft licks, swirling your tongue on it in lazy, annoyingly slow circles.

This grants you a few quiet hums from him, his belly and round pecs rising and falling faster, his body telling you to keep going for him.

Faint ‘Ffuuuckkk’s and ‘Mmm’s were sighed in his sleep, brows furrowed, lips in a pout; signs that you were doing amazing.

You then take him in completely, hollowing out your mouth for him as much as you possibly can, because as mentioned before, this man is big.

You bob your head slowly a few times. It’s when you pull him out with a pop! and start treating it like your own popsicle does his eyes finally slowly open, his lips curling when he looks down at his now very cock drunk girlfriend with a satisfied smirk. His chuckle is low and silk-like, his morning voice making your cunt clench around nothing.

“Well,” his breathing remains labored, his jaw hanging open, “Good morning to you too, Mamita… Mmfuck.”

He says as you maintain eye contact, your lips wrapped around his long and thick member, tongue tracing along a vein. You pull away with a wet smack before saying, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Daddy”, in the most sing song tone of voice.

Miguel tuts at your adorable yet seductive response, “ay, beba, so thoughtful n’ good to me…do that again...” he pleads.

“Like this, Daddy?” You ask, lapping your tongue over his tip just the way he likes it.

“Oh-oh fuck… si, just like that, mamita, así, goood girllll.” his head falls back against the headboard for a moment to sigh before looking back down at you again, seeing his balls in your mouth as your thumb works on his sensitive tip almost making him instantly burst.

You know he’s getting close when he starts panting, propping himself on his elbows and reaching a hand out to your scalp (it practically covers your entire head), gently applying pressure now that he’s in your mouth again. “Aw shit…. I’m close, mama, almost there… fuck, takin’ my fat cock so well, princesa…” He mutters apologies and thank you’s as he relentlessly rams into your mouth, his bush managing to meet the tip of your nose almost every time. He growls as he starts greedily thrusting his hips, face fucking his release into you.

You take your sweet time pulling him out of lips, making sure to get every single drop, your eyes on his the entire time. Once he’s out of your mouth, he sees you swallow, “Open,” and you do as he asks, “diablo, mami, eres tan sucia.” You begin to sit up, wiping your mouth, “Only for you, baby… C'mon, there’s some things in the kitchen for yo-“

“Oye, whoa whoa whoa,” He grabs your hand as you’re about to leave the bed and pulls you toward himself, “I didn’t say we were finished, did I?”

You fall into the bed again, Miguel guiding your hips onto his lap as he sloppily makes out with you, his tongue practically down your throat. “I’m not done with you yet, nena,” he mumbles against your lips.

He lays back down on the bed, “C’mere. Sientate.” He brings his hands up to his face motioning for you to sit on your throne.

You wince, now realizing you forgot that you had meant to shave last night.

“Babe, noooo wait... I haven’t shaved…”

Miguel furrows his brows, a confused scowl on his face.

“Mama. Look me in the face and tell me if I look like I care.” You begin to smile seeing how Miguel was starting to look genuinely mad at you for saying such a ridiculous thing.

“Now, I said sientate. I’m hungry.” He says sternly.

“You sureee? You really don't have to-”

“I don’t like repeating myself.” He commands. This man wasn’t playing any games. He was starving.

Your smile widens at his insistence. Your boyfriend was a real man.

Placing your hands on his hairy, thick body for support, you scoot your way up to his face, Miguel’s grin getting wider as your wet cunt comes into full view.

“So perfect for me, fuck,” His voice is sweet and tender now, planting a few equally tender kisses on your inner thighs, making sure to show them some love before you squeeze his head between them like a melon. “Te amo mucho, you know that, mama? Wanna make you feel good, beba.”

“Mhm,” You nod, biting your lip as the breath of his voice tickles your womanhood.

If Miguel could, he would just live in between your thighs just like this for all of eternity. His absolute favorite place in the whole world. “N' when I tell you to sit on my face, yo nunca quiero ir ese porqueria, understood?”

His stern tone made both your heart and pussy flutter. “Yessir.”

Your hands use the edge of the headboard as support, tentatively hovering your hips over his face as he showers your inner thighs with loving pecks and nibbles, the smack of his lips making your pussy clench again.

One of his big hands steadies your hips with a tight grip, the other moving your panties aside to reveal your unshaven lips.

“Prettiest pussy ever…. y todo es mio. Fuck, you’re so wet, mamita, did I do that?” He speaks mockingly.

You sigh when his lips kiss your clit, his tongue following shortly after by flicking it a couple times. You hear him grunt beneath you after having to lift his head off the bed to reach your hole.

"Baby, sit down. All of your body weight." He's short with his words. It sounds more like an order than a request.

"But Miguel-"

He breathes out, "You're really testing my patience, mama." And with that, his massive hands wrap firmly around your waist and pull you down, a yelp falling from your mouth as he feasts on your sensitive pussy.

Miguel is the definition of a munch. His head movement adds to the stimulation, moving it up and down, side to side; any effort to submerge his face deeper into your folds. His nose, the perfect size and shape that brushes against your clit while he simultaneously slurps and tongue fucks your cunt. The vibrations of his ‘Mmmph’s, the scruff of his face rubbing against your inner thighs, and softly pressing your clit between his tongue and front teeth were the cherry on top.

Your sounds are pornographic as he eats you out. When you're unable to sit up straight anymore due to the immense pleasure, you lean back, hands landing behind you on his soft pecs, pushing into them in an effort to get some kind of break, but Miguel wasn't having it. Plus, he was way stronger than you. There was no escaping him. A small part of you wondered how he was going so long without coming up for air, but you quickly answer your own question when you remember that your man loves to eat, and when he does, he’s like a starved man. Each time you pushed, his grasp only got stronger, but as much as you pushed, you truthfully didn't want him to stop. Ever.

"B-baby, baby… I- I- c-can't," you cry, unable to speak without stopping mid-sentence to let out a whine, "I'm so close, Daddy, don't stop, please, don't stop, don't stop!" You became a broken record, all sense leaving your body. The only thing on your mind was Miguel's mouth ravishing your weeping cunt. You sat forward again, now tugging on his hair, making him hum further and fueling his hunger. "Mmmph fuck! I won't mama, I won't, don't worry... I'll give you whatever you want," You began to literally ride his face, desperately chasing your climax with his hands slapping against your ass. Miguel was in heaven with this view, bucking his own hips into the air from how perfect you looked like this.

“Mmm… such a dirty fuckin’ girl you are,” smack, “wakin' me up like this… ay, que ricoooo, sabe tan dulce,” smack, “puta madre, Puedo vivir de este coño y nada más…” both his voice, an octave lower, and the wet, sucking sounds of his mouth helped uncoil the knot in your stomach, bursting on his handsome face.

Your hips stutter and your jaw falls open when you cum, Miguel drinking in your juices as if he’s been stranded on the Sahara for weeks. You could’ve split his skull into two, that’s how hard you pressed your thighs together, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Miguel finally lets you go, allowing you to sit on his chest now, both of you catching your breaths. He smirks back up at you, and you roll your eyes, blushing. "awww, mi princesita gets all shy when I make her cum, eh?"

"Leave me aloooneeee." With Miguel’s big hands as support and guidance, he rolls over, so he’s still in between your legs, but you’re now the bottom, and him the top. With your legs now around his waist, He chuckles at you and goes to kiss your flushed cheeks.

Then he goes in for a sweet, romantic kiss on the lips. You feel safe and taken care of while feeling his body weight on you again, his soft tummy against yours and his big muscly arms wrapped securely around you. You can feel his cock twitch against your overstimulated cunt, completely soaked from his second climax from simply eating you out, no doubt. He moves any hair on your face aside, caressing your cheek when he does.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, princesita. Have I told you how much I love you?” He coos, pure adoration in his eyes.

You manage a soft, tired smile, “Every day. I love you, too.” you chuckle, “Oh! I made you breakfast! You must be hungry, baby…” you say, as you start getting up.

He gently stops you, and you lay back down.

“I am… but not for food.”

Safe to say the feast you prepared was cold by the time y’all got to the kitchen<3

Hope u liked it <3 It's a bit longer but I've been thinking alottttt about this tee hee!!!

This is a culmination of my thots and the thots of some of my hot moots, so Tysm @mybvalentine @gltzpzy for the ideas <3

Happy Valentine’s season, my loves!!! Wishing everyone not only a day but a whole new year of love. Not just romantic love, but also the love of your friends, family, and above all, the love for yourself <3

Speak to yourself kindly, treat your heart nicely, and consume all the chocolate!!!! You deserve ittt!!!

P.s. n if u don’t have a Valentine’s, I’ll happily be urs 🤭 MWAH!

- Cupcake xoxo

Want more DadBod!Miguel ? Here’s my master list, bae!!

#Would let him do this to me all day idc #I'd drop everything to be able to have this #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara smut #across the spiderverse #atsv #dadbod!miguel #spider man 2099 #miguel o’hara #miguel fanfic #miguel x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara drabble #miguel o'hara blurb #miguel o'hara one shot #miguel atsv #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara fanart #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara #valentines day

[quaintii]

A small drabble.. of Miguel having a breeding kink.

Warnings: MDNI !! 18+ choking, no plot just smut, spanking, breeding kink, Miguel x fem!reader, nipple play, more. enjoy <3 (I didn't revise this, pls send some requests)

Miguel has you bent over the kitchen table, pounding into your sweet pussy while making sloppy sounds echoing around you. He pushes deeper inside of your cunt every thrust he takes, which made you clench around him.

Prickled tears falling down your cheeks, his calloused hands around your throat, making you face the mirror infront of your kitchen. "Don't make a sound, bebé.. don't want to wake up the baby.."

"I want you to see how good you look while being fucked like a slut." Miguel whispered in your ears and bit your shoulders while kissing your back, leaving many marks for later.

You whined and pleaded for him to stop being so rough on you, in return he slaps your ass for speaking back at him. "You like a good fuck don't you? You fucking slut. Taking me so well, you keep sucking me in..good girl.." He groans

Miguel pushed his body weight onto you, the gasps and moans emanating into the air, making the atmosphere thicken. You cover your mouth to not wake up your newborn, quivering as you could feel Miguel pound into the sweet plushy soft deep in your cervix. He grabbed onto your holds, gripping tightly as he changed positions, holding you in a mating press position on the counter.

The new angle makes you twitch around him, clenching him harder as he was swirling his tongue around your nipples and sucking your breast milk. You tasted so good on his tongue.

Miguel loved seeing your fucked out face as you gasp for air and trying your best not to scream and cry when he pounded deeper into your wet, scorching, cunt. "You look so good with my babies inside you, Mami..." He kissed and flicked your nipples with his tongue to get more reaction out of you.

"Feel that? Feel how fucking hard I am?" He pants into your ear, nibbling on it. He pressed his calloused hands on your stomach, feeling himself deep inside you. "You feel so good, mami." His hands traveled where you two connected, rubbing your clit in circles. "You want it so badly, don't you amor?" He sneered. Your skin buzzing with pleasure. "I want to see your belly round and swollen from my cum, baby. I want to see you filled up from me." He moaned.

"Please M-miguel" you whined incoherently. "I'm gonna fill your pretty pussy full of my cum, baby." He groans and pants on your neck, leaving bite marks as he sunk his fangs deep. Your walls fluttered around him. The dam completely broke, leaving you seeing nothing by stars as you rolled your eyes to the back of your head. "Oh m-miguel..p-plea..fuck im.." Your walls clench around him as he keeps chasing his orgasm, your throat choking out your moans as you fall into pure bliss. Tears running down your face with your mouth quivering. He cursed under his breath as you fell apart under him. His thrusting was frantic as he fucked you through your orgasm. He loved how each thrust made your breasts bounce back and forth.

Your orgasm completely blinding you, tumbling into ecstasy. Seeing your fucked out face, was enough to send Miguel over the edge. His jaw fell apart and his eyebrows furrowed together, savouring the delicious feeling of your cunt clenching around his cock. The slapping of skin against skin drew him insane. He kept plummeting his cock deep inside your cervix, kissing that sweet soft you loved so much. His thick brown locks sticking on his forehead from the sweat. The atmosphere thickening as pants of your eachothers breaths fill the room. Clouding the kitchen windows.

Choked little moans keep escaping your lips, now in an almost unconscious state. Miguel comes with s loud grunt, filling your womb to the brim. Breathy pants were heard as he laid his head onto your shoulders, feeling your heartbeat and begins steadying his breathing. He pulls out slowly and pushed his thick fingers inside your cunt, making you jolt forward to his face. "Can't have any of this go to waste, mami," he says, pushing your combined fluids inside. Your swollen cunt overflowing with his cum.

Miguel carried you bridal style to the bathtub, running his hands through the water making sure it's warm for you. He goes in first and places you on top of him. Your back on his chest. He washed your body while giving caressing kisses along you back and neck. Grabbing your face and kissing you softly.

He massages your back and washed your hair. He placed kisses all over your body, warmth being left. As you both finish washing up, he placed clean sheets and brought you close to him. You snuggled underneath his head, cuddling him. "I love you Mig." You say softly. "I love you too, baby." He whispered. The sounds of the night put you both to sleep.

a/n: stayed up til 2 30 am writing this cuz I luv y'all sorry I haven't been online! Personal stuff going on a lot recently, but I'll be sure to feed you guys some more smut! Send me some requests!! I love u guys very much 🩷🩷

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x reader #smut #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 smut #miguel atsv #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara one shot #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel spiderman

[queen-of-fanfics]

Stay Away From Him

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Prompt: Miguel is jealous of your closeness with Hobie and tells you to stay from him.

A/N: Well I have had too much free time at work and all I've been doing is writing. Kinda love it. Also, how did y'all like Across the Spider-Verse? I saw it four times in theaters, it's like a drug in my veins. Anywho I figured I wanted to do a fanfic in a world that I haven't done yet so here it is!

Part 2

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Hey, Peter!”

“Hey, Y/N”

“Oh hey, Peters.”

“Oi! Y/N!” Recognizing the accent, you look up in the air and see Hobie swinging his way over to you.

“Hobie! What are you doing here?!”

This was your second week working inside the Spider-Verse headquarters. You were the only person there who wasn’t some version of Spiderman. One day, Miguel O’Hara was in your universe for a job, bing bang boom, next thing you knew, he offered you a job. Your job here at headquarters was to act as his assistant of sorts. Help him with errands, help him on missions, and fetch him lunch because the poor man will work until he starves. That was exactly what you are doing now. You had finished locating the latest anomaly and went down to the cafeteria to grab him some empanadas.

Working at headquarters was like a living dream. So far, everyone seems to like you and you’ve already made friends. Hobie and Gwen welcomed you with open arms and the three of you became inseparable. During your time working with Miguel, you may have developed a little crush on your boss. You never told anyone about how your heart starts beating faster or how your breath gets shaky when he stands a little too close. Though, you never had to say because everyone could see it. And everyone warned you away from the infamous Miguel O’Hara.

“He’s not for you. He’s obsessed with his work and barely knows what having fun or being nice is. I doubt he even knows there’s a life outside of this place.” Gwen said one day during lunch.

“Who’s not for me? What are you talking about? I’m just here to work.” You shovel food into your mouth in an attempt to hide your face.

“Mmhmm, sure. You can deny it all you want but if you keep staring at him all weird like that, even he’s going to start to notice. Just trust me, you should just try to stay away from him. Which I guess isn’t possible since he’s your boss but you know what I mean.” 

“Though it does raise the question as to why he recruited her, don’t it?” Hobie chimes in. 

Hobie jumps on your back and it pulls you back to the present.

“I’m here for it! Whatchu think? I would willingly come here? Nah.”

“Actually! We just finished a mission so we just came to check in with Miguel.” Gwen swings down and lands right next to you. The three of you continue walking side by side down the hall to Miguel. Hobie throws his arm casually around your shoulder, keeping you close to his side.

You walk into the main room and see that Miguel is standing on his platform up in the air. There are a few people milling around the room, minding their business. People tend to hover around Miguel in case any missions come up or if he needs help.

“Miguel! I got you some empanadas!” You yell up at him.

He turns and barely glances over his shoulder at the three of you. He grunts and rolls his eyes in annoyance but his platform starts its slow descent. Gwen runs over to Jessica and they start talking. Hobie walks with you over to your little desk that sits on the ground floor …. like a regular person.

“So we still on for tonight?” Hobie asks.

“What’s tonight?” You turn and ask Hobie. You lean your butt against the desk to look up at him. He gets in close, places his hands against the desk on both sides of you, and cages you in with his arms.

“Whatchu mean what’s tonight? Did you forget already? Thought you and Gwen were staying in my place tonight!” Hobie teases you.

“Oh, Hobie! I forgot about that, I can’t come over.” Gwen yells over before she turns back to her conversation.

“Guess it’s just us then.” He mumbles and gives you a wink.

Before you could respond, Miguel’s voice booms through the large chamber.

“Y/N isn’t going anywhere tonight.” Looking over, you see that Miguel has lowered his platform as far as it could go and he is staring directly at the two of you with a deadly look on his face. All the conversations in the room died down and you could tell that everyone's eyes were looking between you and Miguel. Everyone treads carefully around Miguel … everyone except Hobie. 

“What? You keeping her hostage now?”

All of a sudden feeling nervous, unsure as to what put Miguel in a foul mood and not wanting to make it worse, you try to straighten up and stand in attention but Hobie isn’t moving. 

“We’ve got work to do here, Hobie. Unlike you, some of us have things we have to do.” Miguel crosses his arms and stares down at Hobie. 

“What work? We caught all the known anomalies already. Plus I was going to work on my bike, give it some more bells and whistles.” Jessica pipes up.

“There’s more work to do than just waiting around for things to happen.” 

“Then what do I gotta do, hmm?” Jessica sasses back to him.

“Nothing. I, uh, just want to do some surveillance. Never know ”

“And what Y/N got to do with it, then?” Hobie asks, giving Miguel a weird look.

“Y/N is my assistant. Y/N must assist me. And get off of her Hobie.”

“Right, but it don’t sound like there is any real work to do. I don’t see why Y/N gotta sit here and suffer being around you. And, uh, I’m actually quite comfortable where I am.”

“No no, I don’t mind. It’s my job. I can stay” You rush to say as you start pushing at Hobie’s shoulders. 

Hobie turned slowly to look at you without budging and you just stared up at him. “Move.” you mouth to Hobie with beseechment in your eyes. But all he does is smile at you and barely visibly shakes his head ‘No’. Eyes wide, you think to yourself, I’m not going to have a job after this. The room is still silent and no one speaks as the tension rises. 

“Everyone out!” Miguel booms, “Looks like no one wants to work anyways. It’s not as if we’re trying to save the entire universe or anything.” 

“Oh! Miguel, we wanted to check in about the-” Gwen is cut off when Miguel turns back around to his monitors and yells, “OUT!”

Everyone exchanges nervous looks around the room while they pick up their things. The whole time though, Hobie is looking down at you with a knowing smirk on his face. “What are you smiling about?” You hiss at him as you push him up so you can grab your bag and head out. 

“Oh just something I think you should find out for yourself. And you might soon.”

“Ugh, I’m going to kill you.” 

Hobie throws his arm around you and leads you out, “Yeah sure, but hey, looks like you can come over after all, aye?”

“Everyone except for Y/N!” You whirl around at the sudden sound but Miguel is still just looking at his monitors.

“Damn, looks like you’re going to find out real soon. See ya sweet cheeks.” Hobie gives you a wink and walks out with everyone else. 

You stood in the doorway waiting for Miguel’s instructions but after a few beats, you realized that he wasn’t going to turn around and talk to you. Slowly walking back to your desk, you couldn’t help but notice how the tension in the room did not leave along with everyone else. It still lay thick and heavy in the air. Taking off your bag and placing it on your desk, you turn around to face Miguel. You open your mouth to say something to break the silence but he cuts you off. 

“Come up here and help me look at this.” 

Your eyes grew wide and you hurried over to the dais. Your heartbeat started quickening with excitement, you have never been invited onto the platform before. Miguel looks down his nose at you with a disgusted look on his face as you struggle to even get your leg on the platform.

“Sorry, don’t got webs like y’all. Give me a second.”

You finally heave yourself up and flop over on your back, gulping down deep breaths of air. “You know, I’m starting to think I’m out of shape.” Figuring that it was time to actually get to work, you jump up to your feet and face the monitors.

“Alrighty, so what am I looking at?” All of the monitors were showing different videos of different universes. Some other monitors had new articles and alerts of potential disturbances. 

“Just, uh, keep an eye on some of the security cameras we have posted around. See if you catch any suspicious activity.”

“Were you expecting something to happen tonight? Did you get a tip?”

“No, just doing our due diligence to keep everything in line.” 

Your brows furrowed in confusion and you gave Miguel a side-eye look. This is what he’s keeping me here to do? To watch some cameras? 

The whole time he was talking to you and giving you instructions, he did not glance at you, just busily pressing buttons and typing something.

About 10 minutes went by in absolute silence with Miguel working and you … “working”. Getting bored and tired on your feet, you start leaning around the table and let out a sigh. Miguel looks at you over his shoulder but turns back to his work. Another 10 minutes go by before he asks, “So you and Hobie are friends?”

Surprised by the question and surprised he even spoke, you responded, “Yeah, I would like to think so. He’s nice, I like hanging out with him.”

“You two have gotten close?”

Getting confused by his line of questioning, you give him a weird look that he doesn’t see. “I mean, I don’t know about close. We hang out with Gwen too. It’s usually the three of us.”

A few silent beats fall between the two of you before he responds, “I didn’t know you were visiting different universes.”

“Hmm, I’m not really. Besides my own home universe, I’ve only just been to Hobie’s. I haven’t seen Gwen’s though not even she goes back there.” 

Again he doesn’t reply immediately and the comfortable silence continues. 

“I would advise you to stay away from Hobie. He could be a bad influence on you or something.” He mumbles so quietly that you almost didn’t catch it. 

“I’m sorry?” You asked, turning your body full to look at him now. 

“I said ‘you should stay’-”

“No, I know what you said. But I don’t understand why. What’s going on with you? Are you stressed about something? Do you not like Hobie? Because Hobie has been nothing but nice to me and he’s a friend. He keeps me safe even when I visit his universe.”

“And exactly how many times have you visited his universe, hmm? You two seem pretty comfortable flying across universes together.” It was his turn to turn and face you. Standing at his full height, the tops of your head barely came up to his collar bones. 

“I-I- … I don’t know. A few times I guess? 4? Maybe 5 times? But-”

“5 times?! You met him not even two weeks ago and you’ve already been hanging around him that much?” You were trying to explain to ease whatever caused his temper to rise. However, with every response you give, it only seems to anger him more. With every response, he is taking a step closer to you and walking you backward.

“I guess? But he’s my friend! And I’ve always been safe if that’s the issue. He keeps me safe. I know I’m not a Spider-Man like you but-” Miguel ignores your argument and cuts you off again.

“Right right and he keeps you safe which I am sure he is more than happy to do seeing as how he’s always getting up in your space. And what exactly do you do in his universe? You run around town like some hooligans and go back to your home universe when it’s late enough to be considered morning?”

“Ah- No, we hang out at his place and have dinner and stuff, I don’t know! And when it gets late I just stay over at his place!” 

“Stay over?! What? Like overnight? He’s got guest rooms now? He’s hosting house parties?” There’s sarcasm dripping in his words but your brain was running too fast to notice.

“N-No he doesn’t. He’s not. He just lets me use his bed when I’m too tired to go home and I’d just wake up the next morning to come here.” 

All of a sudden, he takes one last step forward and you take one step back but your backside hits the table. He drops his hands on either side of you, exactly like how Hobie had you pinned against your desk earlier but this is different. This feels different. The tension is palpable. With Hobie, it was friendly and playful. With Miguel … it feels like you’re getting hunted and just got caught.

“He what?” Miguel’s voice isn’t loud and angry anymore. No. It’s low and deadly. His question comes out always like a whisper as he leads in so close that your noses are practically touching.

“I don’t understand what’s happening. Hobie is just my friend. Why does this feel like it’s a problem?” You whisper. Miguel doesn’t reply. He simply stares at you with such intensity in his eyes, you’re surprised you didn’t evaporate. Suddenly, he’s looking at your lips. Acting almost instinctively, your tongue shoots out to wet your lips and his eyes immediately shoot back up to yours. There’s the intensity in his eyes again, only this time, it’s different. Definitely not anger.

Suddenly, an alarm from Miguel’s monitor goes off and the sound is thunderous in the silent chamber. 

After a few beats, Miguel drops his forehead on yours, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. The whole time, you never take your eyes off of him. Your heart is beating so fast and the blood is rushing in your ears. Very abruptly, he pushes off of the table and whirls around to the monitor. He turns off the alarm and starts typing away, completely ignoring you. Slowly pushing up from the table, you turn back to your own monitor and stare blankly at the empty alleyways and random buildings. 

Where there was comfortable silence before, now, the silence is deafening. 

“You should go home Y/N. I can finish this up on my own.”

Not sure of how to act or how to respond, you slowly climb down from the platform without saying a word and fetch your things.

“And I mean home, Y/N. To your home universe. To your own house. To your own bed.”

Looking back up the dais, Miguel is still facing his monitors, not even looking at you when he talks. Hitching your bag higher up on your shoulder, you respond, “Of course. Goodnight, Miguel. And … for what it’s worth … he always slept on the couch.” 

And with that, you take off running down the hall and teleport back home. 

#fanfiction #fanfic #spiderman imagine #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman fanfic #spiderman #spider man #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara one shot #hobie #hobie brown #spider punk #spiderman x reader #spider man 2099

[ronwestbreeze]

too slow

pairing: miguel o'hara x spider!fem!reader

warnings: angst heheh. spoilers! small scenes of somewhat explicit nsfw. mentions of death!

summary: the both of you would come back from this. you would...right?

word count: 4.9k

author's note: did i come out of hiatus just to post a angsty miguel fic? yes. you know i had to as y'alls fav angst queen

part 2

No matter how far you left that spider life behind, he somehow managed to pull you back in.

And god you tried so desperately to stay away. To refuse him.

Miguel O’Hara just had a way with you. He always did. 

Sometimes you wished you were stronger.

The moment you stepped into your apartment was when all of your senses struck your spine and made you freeze in your doorway.

No one else would have known to continue forward cautiously by leaping up to your ceiling and crawling the rest of the way into the apartment, high on alert. Then again, no one else was you. At least not in this universe.

Your spider senses got worse as you crawled toward your ajar bedroom door. When you were close enough, you dropped down as quietly as you could to the floor. One hand preparing a web to shoot and the other raising toward the door to push it further open.

Only you freeze all together.

A sharp tingle struck your back.

Behind you.

Of course, you were quick. Without turning toward the intruder entirely, you shot a web to grab a large vase sitting on a nearby table in the short hallway and swung it behind you. They dodged the vase just as fast and you instantly shot both of your webs toward the intruder. Only for them to be caught by them with both their hands.

“I’m disappointed, Domino.”

It was a mistake to let your guard down by only a little. It was a mistake to instantly recognize his voice.

“Miguel—AAARGH!”

A sudden yank from the webs caused you to fly forward until an iron grip wrapped around both your wrists. Until you were facing the scarlet and blue mask of the one Spider-Man you never expected to see again.

“Too slow.” Even with the mask, you could hear his smirk.

Now that you were aware of who you were dealing with, the tension in your muscles lessened. Just a little.

Some part of you wanted to say “You shouldn’t be here” but since you weren’t in the mood for a long and exhausting spout with the man, you took the more easy and straightforward route of the conversation.

“Why are you here, Miguel?”

His hold on your wrists loosened but he didn’t let go right away. Which was to your dismay as you really didn’t want to be this close to him. Not when you knew that both seeing him now and now having very little space between the both of you would compromise your senses, your steeled will.

And yet you didn’t pull away.

You watched quietly as his mask disappeared, trying your very best not to get too drawn into his features like you used to. Resisting the urge to run your fingers through his dark locks, tugging on some of them like the old days.

Stop.

That was a long time ago.

And it should remain that way.

Unfortunately, Miguel didn’t appear as strong or restrained. The way he hungrily looked at you wasn’t missed but it certainly wasn’t voiced. By either of them. That was something they wouldn’t touch right now. Probably not ever.

When his forehead gently brushed against yours, when his scent overwhelmed your nostrils was when you forced yourself back on solid ground.

“Miguel.”

Eventually, he also had to pull himself together. Eventually, he dropped his hold on your wrists and walked around you, putting a good distance between the two of you. Warily and curiously, you watched his movements.

He gestured toward the shattered pieces of what once was the vase, “I bought you that, you know. That was rude.”

“So is breaking into someone’s apartment.” You retorted dryly. 

Miguel suddenly took out a small object that shone in the gentle light of the sunset, “I still have a key.”

You huffed, “Imma need that back.” You tried reaching for it, only for Miguel to quickly yank it out of your reach, the beginnings of a smirk forming on his face. That’s when you grew annoyed. 

“I thought you were never gonna come back to this universe again. Remember? You went on a whole tangent about it.”

“Mmm.” Was his response at first. You silently watched him tuck the extra key away into some invisible pocket in his suit. “That was only after you said you were never coming back to the team” You tensed at this as the memories came trickling back. “Or coming back to me—”

“So what’s changed?”

Miguel frowned, “I need you—”

“No.”

You reframed from smirking at the twitch in his jaw, at the way his trained mask momentarily slipped at your obvious stubbornness. You gestured in the direction of the front door, “If that’s all, the door’s over there—”

“It’s Electro.” That, of course—he knew it would—made you stop. It was your turn for your mask to fall, just enough for Miguel to notice as well. The intenseness in his features softened, “It’s your brother…he somehow made it into another universe—”

“When do we leave?” Miguel had the audacity to look surprised. You glared, “I’m not doing this for you, O’Hara. It’s like you said, he’s my brother. After that, I’m done for good, you hear me?”

With that, he schooled his face back to a controlled mask. One that meant business.

“Whatever you say, Domino.”

You wince and send him another glare before stalking toward your bedroom to change.

Ever since he started calling you that name, Domino, you’ve hated it. It originated from a mission gone bad—mostly for you—and he hadn’t stopped calling you Domino since. It was mostly because you had been knocked down into a bunch of trash cans that happened to be in a long line. 

Hobie said you tumbled like a stack of dominos. Miguel never let that moment go.

Fuck him.

Yet despite your hatred for it, you never discouraged it. You just liked the way he said it. You liked the way his voice softened whenever—

No. Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck. Him.

After this you wouldn’t ever have to see him again. You wouldn’t ever have to be wrapped up in his shadows, in his overwhelming way of showing…

Fuck him.

It was odd being back in your old suit. Frankly, it felt dated as you swung around in it. There was an itching part of you that wanted to update it, get new designs, and test them out of your suit. Self-restraint was a challenge during that mission. Especially around Miguel.

Thankfully, Jessica and Hobie showed up so it wasn’t just you and Miguel facing Electro—or in other words your estranged brother. It was already enough having to face family drama, but then you add a frustratingly unlabeled drama that kept interfering with your focus.

“Stay on your side, O’Hara!” You snapped when you dodged an electric zap sent your way.

“Don’t be a child!” Miguel shot back.

“I’m not! We agreed Hobie and I’d take left and you and Drew would take right! You are not holding your end of the agreement!” You landed on a nearby pylon. “Which is no surprise!”

Another blast came from Electro, this time aimed at Miguel and Hobie. Hobie was able to swing out of the way and land on the same tower with you while Miguel landed on the other side, “What the hell is that supposed to mean!?”

“She means you’re an asshole, bud.” Hobie added.

“Nobody asked you!”

“Hey!” Jessica shouted from below, steering her motorcycle toward Electro, “Less fighting like children and more getting this guy before he causes the entire city to go dark!”

The fight hadn’t gone on for long. Eventually, you were able to confront your brother up close despite Miguel’s protests against it. Yet you were the one that knew your brother the best, who was he or anyone else to tell you what to do when it came to him? Certainly not, Miguel. Leader of a secret society or not, this was your turf. He asked you here and you would complete the job the way you knew how.

There was a point where you managed to get Electro at a somewhat calm and the thrilled part of you was ready to prove Miguel right. But unfortunately, family bonds wouldn’t save you in this situation. It wouldn’t tie anything up in the neat bow you were expecting.

The blast nearly threw you entirely off the building if not for a bunch of webs catching you in mid air and bringing you back up. Miguel and Hobie managed to subdue Electro thanks to your unintentional distraction while Jessica was the one to pull you back to your feet.

“Damn, babes, that was a close one.” She gave an amused smirk. “Just how long have you been out of the game?”

“Shut up, Drew.” You grumbled despite the other woman’s grin.

Coming back to HQ was the very last thing you wanted to do. But you wanted to make sure your brother was properly dealt with. Even if that meant dealing with Miguel’s bullshit along the way.

As you entered the computer room, Miguel’s mask came off, “What the hell was that back there?”

“Domino doing Domino things.” You mutter dryly.

“Yeah you are.” Hobie held up his hand for a high five, which you reluctantly gave.

Miguel sent him a scathing scowl before turning back to you, “You think this is funny? You could’ve gotten yourself killed back there!”

“I had it handled.” You gritted out, removing your own mask. “He didn’t need everyone coming at him all at once. If you had given me a few more minutes with him—“

“But we didn’t have a few minutes, did we?” Miguel snapped quickly.

“No, of course not.” You crossed your arms, ignoring how he stood taller than you. Ignoring how he would’ve appeared menacing if not for your pissed off mood. “Because everything has to go O’Hara’s way, right? Fuck everybody else.”

Hobie smirked from the side of the room, his mask also removed, “I missed her. ‘ow come she’s not around often, Bossman?” 

Miguel’s jaw twitched dangerously because they all knew Hobie never referred to him as “Bossman” unless to piss him off. because he knew that Hobie didn’t respect him as much, and didn't care for him as a leader. Bossman was just Hobie being a little shit, in Miguel’s words at least.

“It was fucking reckless.” Miguel seethed. “And as usual, you’re too immature to even realize what you did. What could’ve happened—“

“You brought me here!” You snapped back, as venomous as his fangs. “If you don’t like my way then you should’ve left me the fuck alone!”

“Guys, come on.” Jessica sighed, already used to the both of you like this.

Miguel was fuming and trying so desperately to hide the fact that you easily worked him up this way. And him failing at hiding it only made him pissed off even more. 

He hissed, turning his back to you.“I was being considerate. For your sake. It was your brother after all…It was a mistake bringing you in. I should’ve known fucking better.” 

A bitter laugh left your lips, “Finally! We can agree on something!” You stalked out of the room with Hobie trailing behind you—you were used to him following you around—as you muttered, “Let me know when you’ll be sending Max back.”

Just as you left the room, there was a loud crash and Jessica snapping at Miguel.

When your brother was finally sent back to your universe so that he could be sent to a cell powerful enough to hold him, you left HQ and didn’t look back when you did. Swearing to yourself that it would be the last time you would ever allow yourself to step back into that place. To allow yourself to set your eyes upon him again.

Unfortunately, that promise didn’t last too long.

Despite yourself, you started messing with your suit designs. Adding new stuff to make it look less dated than before. But that didn’t mean you were back to that spider life. No. Not one bit.

Hobie swung by your dimension and suggested that both of you went crime fighting for the day. And you only agreed just so your fighting techniques weren’t so rusty anymore. But you weren’t back in the game. Not one bit.

Then Jessica came to visit, claiming that she wanted you to see the progress in her pregnancy and catch up as friends. Which then led you to following her into another dimension to fight another Rhino, which was a great success.

Fuck, you missed this.

And you were tempted. You really were tempted to swing through your city as their Spider person again.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt after all. Didn’t mean you had to face Miguel. Yes. That was fine.

In the next month forward, you had started your crime fighting as the spider person of your dimension. A new suit and refreshed skills, you felt unstoppable. You even brought out your dimension traveling bracelet. Just to go and visit Hobie and Jessica whenever. Just that.

Soon, Jessica took on a new protege. Spider-Gwen. She was a nice kid and started coming over to your dimension with Hobie whenever they had the time. You liked her alot. She was like a little sister whenever she came around. Same as Hobie being like a younger brother to you.

At one point you found yourself back at HQ—you were honestly terrible at keeping your steeled will—but only to return a few bad guys to their respectful dimensions. You had fully planned on avoiding Miguel—at this point you hadn’t seen each other since your spat a month ago—and going back to your dimension.

That was the plan at least.

“How come you never go with us to see Miguel?” Gwen asked while the two of you watched one of the villains being sent back to their dimension. “You two don’t get along or…?”

Spider-Byte snorted and you sent the hologram a glare, “They have a special history, newbie. You’ll see someday.”

“Quiet, kid.” You mumbled, crossing your arms before addressing Gwen, “Yeah…we don’t get along. It’s best for the both of us that we aren’t in the same room together, right now.”

“Is it?”

You tried your very best not to allow your face to fall into shock at his voice coming from behind you and Gwen. Really, you should’ve expected that to happen.

Miguel approached the two of you, glancing briefly toward Gwen but his eyes remained glued to yours. “Drew’s asking for you. Says she needs your help on Level 4.”

It took you a few seconds to realize he had been talking to Gwen as the blonde nodded her head and disappeared out of the room. Spider-Byte threw on some headphones and continued with her work. In other words, it was just the two of you. The very opposite of what you had planned and wanted.

“I hear you’ve been coming around here a lot more often.” Miguel mused as he brushed past you, his arm grazing yours as he did. You watched him, a lot less hostile than you thought you would be. Instead, you only stared at his back muscles. “I didn’t know you’ve become quite the contradicting person.”

You shrugged, hugging your arms closer to you, “I’ve just been helping Jess and Hobie out. S’not a big deal.”

A sound came from his throat, similar to a chuckle, “I also hear that the White Spider is back on the news.”

“You’ve been keeping tabs on me?” You instead said, one of your brows raising slightly. “When did you start that up again?”

Miguel glanced over his shoulder, his face unreadable, “Who says I ever stopped?”

You smirk, trying to hide how tight your chest felt at his words. At how soft his voice had gotten.

“Look who’s become contradicting now.”

Miguel was quiet at that.

You tried to continue your original goal after that frustratingly vague interaction. You weren’t really sure where you had stood with him after that. Sure, you still were hesitant to rejoin the society fully—mostly because of him—but now you were going on missions with some of the members and helping Jessica train her protégé. At this point, you were practically back, just without the official stuff.

And now you were on a mission with Miguel. You hadn’t been on one of these since your fight. Piece by piece you were just breaking your own promises, your stubbornness was weakening. Your spine had shaken.

Damn him.

No matter what you could never resist Miguel.

You could tell it was the same for him.

“You should go home.”

“Do you know how many times you’ve said that and I’ve still ended up staying?” You leaned on the doorway entrance to his quarters with a smug look on your face. “I think you should give it up by now.”

Miguel was topless. After a particularly long mission, a lot of the team had come out with some cuts and bruises, Miguel wasn’t exempt from that.

You watched as he was cleaning his wound on his left shoulder, only that put too much strain on his bruised side every time he reached his right hand over to tend to that shoulder. For a few more minutes you watched him keep going at it before you sighed and eventually stepped in.

“Stop.” You smacked his hand to the side gently and took the bloodied cloth from his hand.

Miguel tensed, “Domino—”

“I’ve got it.” You told him sternly. “We don’t need you reopening your stitches. Just relax. I’ve got you.”

Your words had disarmed him and caused him to loosen the tension in his muscles at your gentle touch. The wound wasn’t too bad, at least not as bad as the one under his right arm. Once the blood was wiped away, there was just a bit of purple coloring. The blood must’ve been from someone else.

His breaths fanned against your own shoulder. You didn’t forget how close the two of you were in that moment. It was more like you were trying to distract yourself from the fact.

Instead, a small smile tugged at your lip, “It’s been a minute since you’ve been injured.” You noted the light scars on the other parts of his arm.

“Not really.” Miguel grunted, ducking his head down as he rested his elbows on his knees. “I got hit a couple months back. Only difference was that you weren’t there to lick my wounds clean.”

“Do you always need me to?” You joked halfheartedly.

A small tug upward in his lip made your heart skip, “I would prefer it better than being alone.”

“I thought you liked being a loner.”

“Not these days.”

You knew you were treading dangerous territory but the question left your lips before you could rethink it through.

“Did you really want me to go?”

Underneath your fingers, you felt him inhale, slowly.

“Honest?”

You scoffed, “I wouldn’t be asking if I wanted to hear a lie.”

Over his shoulder, he stared at you. A part of you wanted to shift under his intense gaze, a part of you wanted to look away sheepishly but you bravely held it. Though the change in your grip was probably a dead giveaway at your nervousness.

“If it were up to me, you wouldn’t have ever left my sight.”

You tried not to feel too overwhelmed by his words, knowing it was your own fault for asking. For even bringing it up in the first place.

So instead you snorted, “Wow. Sounds awfully possessive—”

His other hand grasped the back of your neck and brought you toward him, your lips connecting. His desperation for you was clear. And your resolve had slowly fallen—no that was such a lie. It had quickly crumbled the moment you felt his touch, the moment his lips were on yours, the moment you felt his desperation sink into your skin just as easily as his fangs would.

When his larger body moved on top of you, you knew your resolve had fully broken. Completely gone. When his lips found your neck, you were gone. When his hips rutted against yours, your mind was gone. When you finally felt him sink into your being, when you felt him inside you—god you never realized how much you had wanted this until now.

No. You knew.

Miguel held your hands down to the bed sheets, only you managed to slip them from his grip and find them tugging and running through his hair, legs wrapped around his hips to pull him closer.

You felt him smirk against your neck, “My stubborn girl.”

And just like that you were back into a cycle in which you swore not to fall into again. Only, this time the two of you didn’t make it known to the others. It was a silent choice between the two of you to keep whatever this was to yourselves. It was better that way you realized.

But as time went by, you knew it would be a little more difficult to hide it. Miguel was touchy. It was fine on days where it was just the both of you, when the both of you were working on something together. Yet on the days where you are around others, such as missions, you know he can’t help himself. And neither can you.

The both of you were terrible at hiding it in the end.

Hobie was surprisingly observant.

“You’re lookin’ cozy now.”

You glanced up to find Hobie lounging about as you were looking at videos of different dimensions. “Let it go, B—”

“I ain’t sayin’ shit.” He shrugged. “Just noticed a few things is all.”

And the two of you left it at that. Never really spoke on it again. Hobie now knew. And Jessica had eyes and a brain, she probably already put two and two together. Especially with you coming to HQ a lot more often now. Even the newbie, Gwen, took double takes every now and then whenever she saw you and Miguel together.

“You seem particularly stressed tonight.” You hummed to him on another night—this time in your apartment, squirming as his cock twitched inside of you.

Miguel looked down at you, a brow raised in challenge, “Can’t take it tonight, baby? Usually you like it a little rough, hmm?” He buried his face into your neck, his thrusts slower than before. Gentle nips at your neck that would sure to leave bruises the next day. Just the way he liked it. The possessive shithead.

“And yet, you’re still stressed.” You whisper next to his ear, breathing out a sigh of pleasure.

Miguel grunted in reply and remained at your neck. Until he slowly pulled away to rest his forehead on yours. He sighed against your skin, “Just another anomaly. Nothing we can’t fix.”

You smiled with a soft hum, “You always do anyway.”

His lips were pressed into yours, a hint of a smile shaping his mouth, “Not just me.”

The anomaly problem never went away it seemed. Soon Miguel got buried deep into his work. You were fine with it, already used to his committed work habits. Besides, you had your own world to manage. You weren’t just waiting all night for him to come home like some girlfriend slowly practicing patience. No, instead you had your own thoughts to keep you busy. But you still managed to find time and visit HQ. To visit the others. To visit Miguel.

It wasn’t until the anomaly was formed into a single person. Another Spider-Man. A kid.

Miles Morales.

Gwen told you about him a few times. How he was the first friend she made after her Peter’s death. You remembered wanting to meet the boy with how much Gwen kept talking about him. And you told Gwen this as well. That they should plan a day to go visit him. Unfortunately, that day never came to fruition.

The unfortunate part was the why.

“What are you not telling me about this Miles guy?” You already knew the answer. You weren’t stupid. You just wanted to know if Miguel would tell you. Would trust you with the information.

Miguel had his back turned to you, facing the screens when you stalked into the room to ask him this. “He isn’t your concern.”

“Bullshit.” You cross your arms. “Clearly, you said something to Gwen. And Jess. Hell, even Hobie. What are you not telling me, Miguel? Why is Miles Morales so important?” You narrow your eyes challengingly, “Or rather, why does he make you so nervous—”

“Enough, Domino.” Miguel said through gritted teeth, trying desperately not to snap at you. “He isn’t your concern. Let it go.”

Hobie had already filled you in on the details before you had come to Miguel about it. The information in itself was troubling, yes. But what was even more troubling was why you were hearing it from someone else other than Miguel. Why did he want to keep you in the dark about this?

That’s when your eyes landed on the old video of him and his daughter. The daughter he lost on another Earth.

“Fine.” You frowned. “Don’t tell me.”

Miguel still had his back toward you. You scoffed and turned to leave. You would’ve been fine to leave it there. That was the one thing the two of you disagreed on the most. The canon stuff. Your sister had to die for it. That’s why Max had become what he had become. That’s why you had left the society, left him in the first place.

Restarting all of this. Thinking you could forgive.

But there was no way you could’ve ever forgotten.

You had to stand by and watch your sister die because it was a part of canon. Because Miguel cared for you and your world so much that he did not want to see it unravel like his did. A part of you wanted to believe that—maybe there was a small part that did—but that didn’t change the grief nor the terror. You just hoped.

Hoped. And hoped. And hoped….

Eventually, you did some research for yourself. Apparently, this Miles guy hadn’t lost his parents but his uncle. Apparently, he was supposed to lose his dad once he became captain. There was nothing you could do about it if it was supposed to happen. You certainly couldn’t tell him that was going to happen.

You couldn’t do anything….

Until you could.

Hobie appeared in the middle of your living room that night.

“I quit that place.” He shrugged, flopping down onto the couch next to you. “But I suggest you suit up, yeah?”

“Why?” You furrowed your brows, placing down your book you had been reading until he unexpectedly arrived.

“Because I ‘ave a good feelin’ you are the only person that wouldn’t like what’s about to happen. What’s currently happening.”

This time you frowned, an aching feeling tugging at your chest.

“Hobie. What’s going on?”

It wasn’t long until you were flying through the HQ, following all of the spider people as they chased after one thing. One person.

Nobody had known you were there. Nor what you were there for. You had blended into the crowd of spider people, flying around, swinging around until you spotted a blip of the boy that they were chasing. And you saw Miguel, Gwen, and Jessica going after him.

All that you knew was that he was alone. The boy was alone. He needed at least one person at his side. One person who understood what he was going through right then.

By the time you had gotten to the speeding trains, Miguel had Miles pinned down to the top of the train. He had yet to see you. But there was no doubt he would sense you. There was no doubt that he would see your flashing figure, zipping toward him. There was no doubt that in the corner of his eye, he would see you flying at him with a kick and landing it just perfectly, and in time before he could prepare to block you.

Now you stood in front of Miles as Miguel rolled away before clawing his hand into the top of the train to keep him on it.

You removed your mask and grinned, “Too slow, O’Hara!”

“Y/N!” Gwen stared at you in shock.

“Who’s that?!” One Spider-Man with a pink robe—and a baby—attached to him questioned in confusion.

Miguel crawled to his feet. In the corner of your eye Miles jumped off the train and disappeared in seconds. “What have you done?!”

You shrugged, “Nothing yet. That depends on you.”

“Y/N, don’t!” Jessica shouted. “You can’t beat him!”

Miguel’s face was twisted into a scowl, mixed with both betrayal and anger, “She’s right, Domino. You can’t win. You’re on the wrong side!”

You pulled your mask back on and melted into a fighting stance, “I don’t have to win. I just have to give the kid more time.”

For a brief second, the scowl was gone. This look was only for you to see. The same look he wore when you first quit the society.

They were back to where it all began. This was the cycle. It was bound to happen. You knew this. He knew this.

“I don’t want to fight you.” He gritted out. “Stand down, Domino. I’ll only ask this once.”

Not once did you budge.

“I hope we come back from this, Miguel.”

You dashed forward.

Miguel let out a roar of anger and dashed toward you.

The two of you would meet in the middle. And for a second, you really wondered…

Would you? 

Would you come back from this?

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara one shot #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara across the spider-verse #spiderman atsv #marvel #hobie brown #jessica drew #gwen stacy #miles morales

[heartpascal]

or is it loneliness?

▹— (eventual) spiderverse found family x platonic!reader

▹— summary: you need closure, and information. two visits kind of give you that.

▹— a/n: guys idk what im DOING. i have things planned for atsv but not how we’re gonna get there … rn im just yolo-ing. im not a big fan of this one but im gonna start writing the next one asap, which will hide fully be more found family-ish lmao arachnid is gonna start warming up to them all some day i swear

▹— warnings: angst, injuries, not good thoughts, dead parents, sensory issues, explosions, violence, fighting, blood?, damaged hearing for a good minute, peter b parker eating burgers deserves its own warning, food, mention of throwing up / nausea, insecurities about being good enough, refusing help, idk what else, if ive missed anything let me know!!!

▹— taglist: @rhymingtree (everything taglist) @justmare @uniquemonstrosity @lacunaanonymoused @erensbbg @dulceteris @noxxing @escherichiacolli @ray-rook @i-3at-kidz @miwagila @stoneforests (is it freedom’verse) — also i only tagged those who explicitly asked to be tagged!

MASTERLIST , part one

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

You spend a long time sat on the edge of the open window, staring out at the traffic below after getting back from Spider Society HQ. There’s a tangible relief that comes with returning to your dimension, like a weight being removed, a tension that is finally released from where it had been pulled taut. Your shoulders feel just as heavy as they did when you left, but you try not to think about it. You try to be happy that you’re back.

While you wouldn’t say it aloud, and you hate to even have the thought, you don’t think anybody had noticed you were gone. But then again, who would? You have no reason to be so upset about such a thing.

Time slips by as you diligently sew up the tears in your suit, frowning as you hold it up once you’re finished. It looks nothing like it used to, but then again, neither do you. Things have changed, it only makes sense that your suit would, too. You wonder if travelling through alternate dimensions can alter your perception of things. You’d swear that your suit had been a different shade before you left, lighter, maybe, but you have nothing to compare it to.

At least now, this time, when you put on your suit there is evidence of damage that Gwen Stacy had caused. The stitching along your the material where she had tore into you is a tangible thing, physical, and you run your fingers across it as if it might disappear. It’s almost a relief, to be able to feel where she had caused you pain, as opposed to the invisible ache she had left within you after fighting her the first time around.

Alongside the scar raised on your body, the fight with Gwen had left you with a sort of paranoia. An uncertainty in the back of your mind that has you glancing over your shoulder, has you messing up simple manoeuvres as you panic, thinking you hear her voice.

It must have been your third day back from the HQ that you come to the conclusion that you have to visit Gwen Stacy in her prison.

The decision doesn’t come easily. It comes slowly, torturously so, a realisation that deafens you as you glare through squinted lenses at the city around you. You won’t be able to go on like this, getting yourself hurt in stupid ways all because you’re not certain that she’s back in her prison. You’re meant to be a hero, which means that messing up, despite whatever paranoia that lingers in the back of your head, is unacceptable. It has consequences.

Seeing her in the flesh will likely be the hardest thing you’ll ever do. Except, maybe, not killing her when you caught her in that other dimension. You keep your mind on the fact that she won’t be able to touch you, that she’ll be walled away, to reassure yourself that there is no risk of either of you hurting the other — at least, physically.

But seeing her isn’t the only difficult part.

No, the hardest part is stepping back into an identity that you had lost your grasp on, long ago. You wear your old clothes, clothes that you hadn’t put on in months, and try to remember how it felt to be you, rather than Arachnid.

“Hi, Mrs. Stacy.” You say, when the door to an all too familiar apartment opens just a slither, and you catch sight of her wrinkled eyes. There’s a noticeable change to them when she realises who you are, and she’s slamming the door shut, undoing the chain, and reopening it before you can say another word.

She whispers your name like she can’t believe it’s you — and you can’t blame her.

You had disappeared, months ago, after the death of your father. Going missing was far easier than being placed in a foster system that would only hold you back. It had been so much easier, not having to face anyone, not having to speak at his funeral.

“Hi.” You repeat, when her stare lingers in the silence for far too long. The sound of your voice once again breaks her out of her trance, and she’s rushing forward to pull you into her arms as if you were her child. You suppose, in some ways, it was quite a lot like that. At the very least, your presence will remind her of the daughter she had lost.

“Where have you been? Oh, honey, I was so worried.” Mrs. Stacy says, her voice trembling by your ear as she squeezes you tight, unfazed by your lack of reciprocation. “Come inside, please.”

You follow her through the doorway, closing the door behind you as you had done so many times before. Not looking around at the apartment is near impossible, but you’re not sure how much familiarity you can take. Even just seeing Mrs. Stacey’s aged face makes your chest ache, your legs feeling shaky.

“Sit down, honey, let me get you a warm drink.” She says, a tremor to her voice as she bustles towards the kitchen which is adjoined to the living room. The news plays on the television, and you’re glad to hear a weather report, rather than some city-wide attack. Mrs. Stacy is quiet as she goes through the process of making your favourite drink, but with your enhanced hearing you listen to the telltale clink of a spoon against ceramic. You listen closely to her hitched breathing as her footsteps pad back into the room. “Here.” She hands you the warm mug, and you don’t comment on the way her hand shakes.

“Thank you.” You say, though it feels stilted, wrong, too formal. It’s hard to be normal in this setting, to be whoever you used to be, especially as she stares at you like she’s seen a ghost.

Mrs. Stacy stares at you for a long while before she speaks again, as if she’s still not sure that you’re real. “Where have you been? After—After your dad… we didn’t know what happened to you. Are you safe? Do you need help?” She asks, frantic once she’s gotten started on her questions.

“Mrs. Stacy, I’m fine, really.” You lie, smiling tightly over the rim of the mug as you hold it towards your face. Before, you would’ve burnt your tongue drinking it too fast, but you’re hesitant to drink it at all. The last thing you want is to become too familiar to your old life. “I’ve been staying with some friends, downtown. It’s been good.”

She raises a brow at you, and stares for a moment longer. “Honey… you don’t look well.” She tells you, and raises the back of her hand to press it against your forehead. Her frown only deepens when you flinch away from the touch. You try not to curse yourself too much, but can’t help reprimanding the way you hadn’t anticipated such an action.

The skin on your forehead is clammy, but that’s just the anxiety, the nerves at being back here. Arachnid can’t get sick.

“Listen, I… I was hoping I could ask a favour from you.” You say, hesitantly, gripping the warm mug tight between your hands, but loosen your fingertips against the ceramic when you hear a minute crack.

Mrs. Stacy furrows her brows, looking more concerned by the second, but nods. “Of course, anything.” She tells you, and places one of her hands against yours on the mug.

“I was hoping I could visit Gwen.” You voice, after one last moment of hesitation. The way her face immediately crumples at the request doesn’t give you much hope, especially as her hand withdraws from your own. “I—I know you don’t get to see her very often, and maybe it’s selfish, but… I don’t know. I wanted some kind of closure, I guess.” You ramble on in response to her silence, glaring down at the liquid still swirling in your mug.

“Honey,” Mrs. Stacy interrupts, her voice soft in contrast to the way yours was growing in volume. You quiet immediately, your gaze drawn up to where her tearful eyes stare at you, her expression almost mourning. “I would never deny you that, but you should know… I haven’t visited Gwenny since she was put in there.” She admits, her stare dropping to her lap, almost ashamed.

“Oh,” You voice, softly, in response. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed— I—I mean, I can’t even imagine—”

“No, don’t be silly, how would you have known?” She replies, raising her eyebrows at you strictly. “Now, I can get you that visit. I’ll call my attorney first thing tomorrow, but… really, honey, do you need me to call someone for you? Who are these friends?”

Her voice is familiar, and it’s kind, which makes it all the more painful. It’s strange, seeing the resemblance between her and the Green Goblin, and it makes a part of you ache. Your life wasn’t the only one torn apart by Gwen. In fact, her mother probably faced the worst of it. With her husband being long gone, her oldest son away at college, youngest withdrawn after her daughter became a homicidal maniac, who did she really have left? Who was looking after Helen Stacy?

You smile at her, as best as you can without tearing up, and reach out to grasp her hand, which she readily accepts. “I’m okay, Mrs. Stacy, I… It’s just a few friends of my dad, from his home town. Their kids, too. It’s better than being put in the system.” You tell her, and can only hope that she believes you. You have no way to back up these lies, knowing those friends of your father don’t exist.

“You could’ve stayed here, you know?” She says, teary and squeezing your hand so tightly you can hear your bones creaking. You smile sadly at her.

“You’re a much stronger person than me, Mrs. Stacy. I couldn’t even face my dad’s funeral, let alone be around the memories of somebody I lost. This place, it—it reminds me of her.” You explain, voice shaking as you hold back your own tears, swallowing them down and trying to breathe through the ache in your throat.

The way her heart breaks is almost loud enough for you to hear it, but she nods her head understandingly, regardless. “Of course,” She says, nodding still, “But know you always have a place here, okay?”

“Okay.” You respond, heart clenching so tightly you’re not sure it can pump your blood any longer.

“Now, what’s your number? Your old phone was disconnected.” She says, shaking her tears away to pull out a pad and pen from the coffee table. She sets the notepad against her knee, looking expectantly toward you.

“Oh, right,” You stutter, teeth chattering as you comb your mind for the number of your burner phone. “There was a mixup, because it was in my dad’s name.” You explain needlessly, still searching your mind for the answer. Finally, you remember it. You listen to her ballpoint pen scrape along the paper as she writes the numbers as you say them, and then she clicks the pen off after writing your name beside it, underlining it twice.

“How about I give you a call with the details of your visit, okay, honey?” She asks, nodding with a pleased hum at your affirmative. “Good. Stay for dinner, okay? I’ve missed you.”

Who are you to deny her that?

Though, even as you try to pretend that you help to set up the table for her benefit, and as you hug Gwen’s little brother tightly when he comes home for his, you know, deep down, that it’s for you. That this is a moment of selfishness that you’ll let yourself have, because god, you deserve it, don’t you?

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

It’s thirteen days post Spider Society discovery, and you’re starting to regret the way you discarded that watch so carelessly. Not because you want to be a part of some cult of superheroes, but because you wish you had asked some more questions.

Surely Miguel O’Hara must’ve known a way to stop these villains from appearing in other universes? And if he did, had he already implemented whatever it was to stop Gwen escaping again? How exactly did she escape the first time? Was it a coincidence? Is there somebody out there, working behind the scenes, helping her get out?

You, unfortunately, have no way to answer any of the burning questions nagging at the back of your head. While a part of you hopes that you never see any of the Spider Society weirdos again, you also desperately want answers. Especially if it meant you could call off your visit to Gwen Stacy.

But the day arrives as any other does, and you spend every moment before the drive over to the prison desperately hoping that one of the Spider-people will show their face. None of them do, and you’re left to get into Mrs. Stacy’s car and simply brace for the journey ahead.

You’re pretty sure that swinging would be quicker, or easier, but you had no way to explain that way of transport to an interrogating Mrs. Stacy, and so you had to relent to her insistence on driving you. Now, you sit here, shifting in the seat of the car, uncomfortable without your suit underneath the clothes you used to wear on a daily basis. Even the knowledge that it’s stuffed into the bottom of your tattered backpack in the boot of Mrs. Stacy’s car doesn’t bring you any comfort.

Instead, the rough material of an old jacket has your skin crawling like you were being bitten by a thousand mosquitos, and the trousers on your legs itch like you’re allergic to them.

You suppose, really, that the spider bite that gave you so many powers had to have more drawbacks than just destroying your life. It only makes sense that your heightened senses would extend to the receptors on your skin. It makes every movement in these clothes torturous, and you wonder if it had always been this way, or if you were just so unused to wearing your old style of clothes. Either way, you hope that you won’t have to wear them for much longer.

If it all goes to plan, you should be in and out of the prison, just ensuring that Gwen Stacy is actually in the cell as she’s supposed to be. Then you just have to endure the fifty minute drive back to the city with Mrs. Stacy, and you’re free. You won’t have to wear these clothes again, won’t have to use your name, no — you can just sink back into the half life that is being Arachnid. It’s better that way.

“Okay, honey, here we are.” Mrs. Stacy says at last, having shifted her car into park. She pointedly avoids looking at the looming high-security prison ahead, instead focusing on you as you wipe your sweaty palms against your trousers. “Now you take as much time as you need in there, alright? I’ll be just out here, if you need me.”

You smile tightly at her, nodding with what you hope is more of a grateful expression rather than a grimace. “Thank you, Mrs. Stacy, really. I appreciate it, more than you know.”

That much was true — after all, it wasn’t like you could tell her that she was allowing the vivid paranoia you had been experiencing to be put to rest after her daughter escaped to another universe. Mrs. Stacy, from what you could gather, didn’t even know that Gwen had been missing for any amount of time. She had no idea what Gwen had done, how many more people she had hurt, but you assured yourself that it was better that way. Mrs. Stacy already had to deal with plenty, and that knowledge surely wouldn’t help.

She was already dealing with her own grief and feelings on the situation, as well as trying to support her two sons in the matter. Given what Gwen’s little brother had asked of you when he found out about you visiting her, you knew that he hadn’t been to visit Gwen, either. It seemed that he wasn’t coping with it all very well.

“Of course, you’re family. You should know that by now.” She says, smiling with teary eyes, reaching across the console to grasp your hand tightly in her own.

Her words take a stab at your chest, especially considering what had happened to everybody else who had seen you as family. Dead parents, villainous best friend — it really didn’t bode well for your loved ones. You just reassured yourself with the fact that you’d be able to disappear as soon as the two of you returned to the city. You couldn’t put her in any danger, that way, or her remaining kids.

“I’ll—I’ll see you after, okay?” You respond, squeezing her hand in return before quickly letting go and throwing open the car door, getting out and catching a slither of Mrs. Stacy’s surprised reply before you shut the car door.

There are guards waiting for you at the gates, checking you are who you say you are, scanning you for weapons before you even get in the building. They’re satisfied after their searches, content that you weren’t stupid enough to bring a weapon into a highly secure prison. You keep your focus on your breathing as they walk you in, handing you clothes to change into as well as a box to put all of your belongings in.

The scrub-like clothes they give you are even worse than your own, sending shivers up and down your spine at the feeling of each fibre scraping against your skin. You just try to breathe through it. Luckily, the rest of the security checks blur by, which means less time spent on agonising over this visit. You barely hear a word of the statement they read to you before you go in, and your hand cramps as you write your signature against a dotted line of a waiver. All of the other legal things were sorted out by Mrs. Stacy’s lawyer, which you are more than thankful for.

Instead of having to deal with that, you just have to wait.

You think that the waiting might be the worst part of it all. With the scrubs making your hairs raise and promoting uncomfortable shivers up and down your body, as well as the cold metal seat that they sat you on, you’re far too aware of everything around you. You can hear the hundreds of heartbeats in the buildings, the beeping of security doors, the footsteps heading your way. You can smell the coffee that the head guard in the adjoining room to the one you’re in is drinking, as well as the day-old sandwich in his desk. Worst of all is the way your own heartbeat is thrumming in your throat, padding harshly against your chest, so loud in your own ears that it slowly starts to drown out everything around you.

Gwen’s footsteps are heavy, accompanied by the clinking of the chains she’s shackled in. You can practically hear the maniacal laughter that had come from her whilst in that alternate dimension, even though she’s completely silent as she enters the room.

She smiles at you when you look up, and for a moment you’re fooled — it’s soft, gentle, kind. But then you see the glimmer in her eyes that was distinctly not Gwen, and you feel the scar along your side throbbing with phantom pain.

You smile tensely at the guards, who regard you with looks of gentle concern and caution, before they attach her chains to a link on the floor beside a chair three metres away from where you sit. They nod at you, which you return, and you watch as they go and take their positions beside the door before you move your eyes back to the elephant in the room — which is Gwen Stacy.

“So, you missed me?” She asks, baring her teeth in a grin that has too much teeth to be anything friendly. Gwen regards you closely as you stare at her, watch for any signs of flickering, any signs that this isn’t real. Her brows raise slowly, the longer you’re silent, but you’re in no hurry to talk. “No? Is that not it?”

“Sure, I miss you.” You respond after another stretch of silence, tilting your head to study her more closely. You don’t acknowledge the way that your voice shakes as you speak, the way it comes out in something closer to a croak before you swallow harshly against your dry throat. “Thought I’d come to check in.” You add, brows furrowing to make sure she gets your true meaning.

“Ah,” She voices, then laughs, shoulders shaking, chains clanking loudly against her metal chair. “I get it, now.”

Gwen doesn’t add anything else after that, even though you suspected that she may take this opportunity to loudly claim that you were Arachnid, outing your identity once and for all. Apparently, if she does want to out your identity, she doesn’t want to do it like this, as she stays silent until you speak.

You sit forward on your chair, ignoring the way the guards at the edges of the room shift uneasily at your movement. “Your mom arranged this for me, you know?” You say, eyebrow raised. She probably knows what you’re doing, or what you’re trying to do, but she doesn’t voice it. Instead, she just shifts to lean backwards in her own chair, sighing as if relaxing.

“Hmm, so she can visit.” Gwen says, nodding her head as if it’s all making sense now.

“She can, she just doesn’t want to. Neither does Georgie.” You respond, and find satisfaction in the way her eyes flash at the mention of her little brother, the nickname that the two of you both used to call him. She recovers quickly, but you can tell that she knows it wasn’t quick enough. The Green Goblin cracked, right in front of your very eyes. It’s proof that, if anything, her little brother has some meaning. “He wanted me to tell you something.”

Her head tilts across from you, though she doesn’t move from her laid back position.

You clear your throat, and look at the words you’d written on your skin. She tilts her head forwards the slightest amount, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat, glancing at the guards who look just as uncomfortable as you feel. “He said that he misses his Gwenny, but he doesn’t want you coming home.” You stare at her as you repeat his message, the one he had told you nervously, as if he was truly afraid that Gwen would escape and come back. Her eyes twitch as she focuses on keeping her expression cool, but you know that the words have hit something in her, even if it’s part of the Green Goblin. “Looks like you even ruined your own family.”

You’re up on your feet as she lurches forwards, flung backward from where she tried to go against her chains to rush toward you. The guards are in front of you in mere moments, but you weren’t in any danger. Not as long as she stayed in here.

It’s almost satisfying, to see her chained up. It’s so different to seeing the Green Goblin on the outside, where she could be your Gwen Stacy. Whereas in here, bound by chains of heavy metal, clothed in uncomfortable looking prisoner scrubs, she was nothing but the Green Goblin. It was reassuring, almost, to be able to pick apart something physical between the two.

She bares her teeth at you, animalistic in a way that Gwen never was, and glares at you as you follow one of the guards out of the room, the others closing in on her, ready to take her back to whatever cell she came from.

The clothes you wear become less overbearing as you keep your focus on the guards taking Gwen away the whole way back through security, only switching back to your surroundings when they hand you the tray of your own belongings to change back into. You’re relieved for many reasons, and you try to focus on that feeling as you approach Mrs. Stacy’s car rather than the way your jacket itches.

Mrs. Stacy looks as if she wants to speak as you get in the car, as if she wants to ask about your visit, but she seemingly can’t bring herself to do it. You keep your mouth shut.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Not a month later, your daily activities are back to normal, uninhibited by the daunting idea of Gwen being free. Still, though, you think about her more often, as much as you did in the time after she was put away the first time.

Mrs. Stacy had tried to call you more than once since, and at the two week mark you’d had to invest in a new burner phone. You just couldn’t risk anybody getting a hold of it and seeing her contact, or the ringer going off and exposing your position in a fight. No, it was better for her not to have your number. Besides, you had hers memorised if you needed to call her.

It was better if you tried to reduce any connections to Gwen Stacy. You’d be much better off, the less you thought about her.

Despite knowing that, you couldn’t help it. And despite seeing that crack in the Green Goblin exterior at her little brother’s words, you didn’t have much hope for her. You don’t think they’d let her out of prison even if you could find a cure, somehow. The fact of it was that Gwen Stacy’s life was over. She had no hope of a future in this world, the Goblin had destroyed that. All you could do was remember her and hope beyond anything that in one of those alternate dimensions, you and Gwen were happy together.

The thought of it played on your mind every day, a lingering pain that stung at your eyes. You thought about it so much that you had even imagined the world where Gwen had never become the Goblin, where you and your Gwen were happy. It was a suffocating image, one without any hope of being true, but you couldn’t help thinking about it.

Even as you fought villain after villain, petty criminal after petty criminal, you thought about it. Even now, as you were swinging around a bridge, dodging all the debris this villain was throwing your way, it played on your mind.

It was a distraction, and it was one you needed to get rid of.

That much became certain as the villain you were facing, Tombstone, managed to get a hit on you, sending you flying across the bridge. You landed on a car with a groan, the windshield cracking below you, and you rolled your eyes as the person in the car held a hand on their horn until you managed to climb off, a distinct Arachnid-shaped dent left in the bonnet.

Well, that would be aching tomorrow, that much was for sure.

He grinned where he was stood across the bridge from you, showing off his filed teeth, as if trying to intimidate you with the pointy edges of them.

“You’ve been a formidable foe, Arachnid,” Tombstone says, his voice barely a whisper above the wind, but you can hear him perfectly. You suspect he knows as much, and that only makes you nervous. “But I think it’s time for our battle to come to an end.”

“I actually agree.” You respond, stretching your aching back and feeling a bone shift when it definitely shouldn’t. You can’t help but wince, gritting your teeth and glaring over at Tombstone across the bridge.

You’re getting tired of these villains, of their constant spiel about how the world should be, about how everything should be how they wanted it to be. What was so wrong with the human population that everybody couldn’t just get along? Surely, if everybody got along, listened to each other, the world’s problems would be solved. But then again, this is New York, and it’s a city in which greed is bred.

A light press against your webshooter has you slinging high up on the bridge, staring down at Tombstone as he watches you intently. You’re planning your next move, considering all the variables, when a burst of orange manifests into the air behind him. He looks confused as you falter in your web slinging, dropping slightly before you catch yourself, and he turns around just in time to receive a curled fist to the face, courtesy of a familiar man in a red and blue suit.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” You murmur, lowering yourself to the bridge to approach this Spiderman, glaring at where Tombstone stands, straining against a red barrier that had materialised from the device Spiderman had placed at his feet.

“I hate that guy!” The familiar voice of Peter B. Parker says, shaking his fist as he hops slightly from one foot to the other, his lenses squinted before he finally turns to acknowledge you. “That guy sucks.”

Your brows are furrowed, eyes squinted behind your lenses as you stare at Peter, confused. This Tombstone guy isn’t an anomaly, is he? While you hadn’t faced him before, you knew that there had been a battle between him and another vigilante down in Hell’s Kitchen. And he knew your name, hadn’t been calling you Spiderman like the last anomaly. So why was he here?

Peter sighed, as if he was disappointed to be met with your confusion. “You got a place, kid? Or a burger joint, maybe?”

With that same amount of confusion, you nodded, brows furrowed as cops came to collect Tombstone, who was still in a fit of rage. You can just barely hear him swearing to get you back, both of you, through the barrier. Peter gestured a hand forwards for you to lead the way, and with slight hesitation, you swung off with him following.

Now, the two of you are sat in a Shake Shack, despite you wanting to head back to the offices you were set up in. Peter had ordered two burgers, one for you and one for him, though you had decidedly rejected the one he pushed towards you. He had only shrugged, and accepted it onto his own plate.

“My wife’s pregnant, can’t even stand the smell of these.” Peter groans, stuffing what must’ve been at least a quarter of the burger in his mouth. You just nod at his statement, though you had to admit you were slightly surprised that this guy was going to be a dad. But then again, you’re pretty sure you can remember your dad scoffing down his favourite food in a similar way. “Now listen,” He continues, speaking with his mouthful and paying you no mind as you cringe at the sound. “Miguel wants to strike a sort of… deal with you.”

“Okay?” You respond, brows furrowed. You look around the place, uncomfortable with all the people staring at Arachnid in a booth beside an old man stuffing his face. The lenses of your mask squint with you as you look at Peter, waiting for him to add anything on to explain his statement. “Then why’d he send you?” You ask, at last, when Peter makes no move to speak of his own free will, too engrossed in his second burger.

Peter held up a finger, gulping down a sip of his strawberry milkshake. “Said something about this being good practice for me,” Peter eventually answers, flashing you a smile. “You know, being a new dad and all.”

He seems to realise quickly that that was the wrong thing to say as your eyes narrow further, visible only through the shift of your lenses. The last thing you need is some random guy trying to father you. Even just the idea of it irritates you, makes the very blood rushing in your veins feel hot with anger. You had a dad, and look what good that did you. He’s gone.

Not to mention the implication of you being a child! You’re far from being a kid. You’ve been looking after yourself for some time now just fine. Whatever deal Miguel wants to strike with you is because they need you. Not the other way around. You knew that you shouldn’t have let that Spider-doctor fix you up.

“I’m not some kid. I don’t need you lot, you need me. Don’t get it all twisted, Peter.” You respond as he continues to look like a deer in headlights, clearly kicking himself for revealing what Miguel had said. You keep your voice low, fighting to stay unheard with the quietened air in the diner. “Now hurry up and tell me about whatever bullshit deal you want to strike with me, so I can say no and we can go our separate ways.”

“Kid,” Peter sighs, before immediately wincing as he realised he just directly disregarded your statement about not being a kid. “Sorry, Arachnid,” He corrects, settling his hands on the table in front of him, finally taking a break from his almost-finished food. “Nobody’s saying you can’t do this.”

“Sounds like that’s exactly what you’re saying.” You mutter, averting your eyes from Peter and instead narrowing your lenses at the people still staring in your direction.

“All we’re saying is that you shouldn’t have to do this alone,” He continues, ignoring your interruption with nothing but a quirked brow. “It’s a tough job. Everybody needs someone to look out for them, you know? It’s in our nature to feel responsible for everything around us, as Spider-people. But you can’t carry the whole weight of the world on your shoulders, it’s too much!”

You stare blankly at him, remaining unimpressed with his whole speech.

Peter sighs once more, looking at you with hesitant hope that you’ll come around. Unfortunately, you’re not about to let these people think that you’re incapable. If anything, Peter’s little speech was just adding fuel to your fire. You liked proving people wrong — it’s what you thrived on. You needed to prove them wrong. Because if you didn’t, what did that make you? You couldn’t let people be right about their assumptions of you. If you couldn’t prove everybody wrong, then that meant some of the things people said about you were right. And with the amount of people who accused you of being responsible for more deaths than you saved, who portrayed you as a menace rather than a vigilante, who said you weren’t worthy of your powers, who said whatever divine intervention had given them to you was wrong, you couldn’t let them be right. You wouldn’t.

“I already told you people. I’m not interested.” You spit out at him, feeling your frustration brimming over the edge. Why would nobody just trust you? Was that so much to ask? You understand that you had made mistakes, that you had cost people their lives, but you were trying. Why couldn’t that just be enough?

Peter says nothing as you slide out of the booth, stomping your way out of the Shake Shack as if you were some kind of grumpy teenager. He could only hope that his unborn child was a less grumpy teen, but then again, he was pretty sure you had every right to be miserable. Correcting himself, he could only hope that his unborn child never experienced your reasons for being so miserable.

You make your way towards your office building, swinging through the streets whilst doing your best to keep your heightened hearing down. You really didn’t want to have to deal with anything else, tonight. All you wanted was to get back, to put on the only clothes other than your suit that didn’t make you want to crawl out of your skin. Even if it was just for an hour, you’d take it.

While you had gotten used to how quiet it was in the building a long time ago, you couldn’t help but think that tonight, it felt almost… eerie. There was something tingling, buzzing at the very base of your skull, but even as you strained your hearing, your sight, everything, you couldn’t detect anything out of place. Everything seemed normal, so you couldn’t understand why you were so on edge! It couldn’t just be Peter’s presence, surely, because he posed no threat to you. So what was going on?

Picking up your backpack filled with belongings, you stared around at the empty office, the breeze that flowed through the open window sending a shiver down your spine, even though you weren’t feeling cold. Something wasn’t right. You just couldn’t figure out what it was.

“Hello? Anybody there?” You call out, straining your hearing once more, trying to listen out for even the slightest sound. A movement, a breath, anything, even as you couldn’t help but think that this was the most cliché horror movie like moment that you had experienced to date. Still, you heard nothing, but that nagging feeling didn’t dissipate, and you quickly lost all desire to change out of your suit.

The unease you felt only grew stronger as you stood there, unsure what to make of the feeling. It was quickly growing towards being overwhelming, but you didn’t know what to do.

Luckily for you, you didn’t have to make a decision.

Unfortunately, the decision was made by one of the very people you were trying to prove yourself to.

Peter B. Parker — or at least, you were pretty sure it was him — swung through the very same window you had, only to grasp a hold on your arm and pull you out of the window as he jumped straight back out of it.

Now, you had been Arachnid for a long time now. You had gotten used to the swinging, to the way your stomach dipped and your throat tightened, but you had never experienced it where you weren’t the one in control. Finally, you understand why people you brought to safety had, on occasion, thrown up immediately after you set them down on their feet again. The feeling of falling, of having no choice but to trust somebody else to catch you, it was terrifying.

But what was infinitely more terrifying was the way that the very floor of the building you had just been stood on exploded.

The blaze was blinding, even with your lenses protecting your eyes, but the noise that came moments later was much, much worse. And sure, you had been around explosions before, but never one that big, never so close. And never so unprepared for one.

Your ears were ringing, and you vaguely realised that you had become dead weight in your shock, with Peter struggling to keep his grasp on your arm firm. After a moment, you had the sense to grab his forearm in return, trying to assist him in holding you up. He didn’t seem as effected by the explosion in comparison to you, and you wondered if he’d had the time to put earbuds in his ears as you had sometimes done before a fight. Either way, you were insanely envious as the pain in your ears increased, leaving you struggling to focus on holding on to Peter.

When he set you down, which couldn’t have been more than a minute after he had grabbed you, considering you could still see the office building smouldering, you had to hold a hand over your mouth even over your mask, trying to rid yourself of nausea. Smoke was leaking into the darkening sky, and you saw the flash of sirens below, but heard nothing other than the distinctive ringing that felt like it was melting your brain.

Peter’s hand was squeezing your shoulder, and after a moment in which you didn’t acknowledge him, he was gripping your other shoulder with his spare hand, shaking you the slightest bit. You looked up at him with a groan, squinting past the floating lights in your vision to see that his mouth was moving, no sound coming out. You shook your head, trying to get rid of that incessant ringing, but it didn’t work. You dropped your chin to your chest again, hands bracing against your ears as if they could ease your pain, and you didn’t make a move as Peter removed one hand from your shoulder.

Mere moments later, the same tingling you had felt before the building you were in exploded returned, stronger, more intensely. Your head snapped up, frantically looking around, paying Peter no mind as he spoke into the orange-glowing watch on his wrist. You breathed through your nose, trying not to cough at the smoke permeating the air, and you just managed to push Peter over the edge of the roof of the building, with you diving after him, as another explosive went off.

That explosion was smaller than the last one, and the only reason you had managed to avoid it was because you knew it was coming. You knew what the alarm bells in your head were trying to tell you now, and you spotted the projectile just seconds before it reached your feet.

Part of you was glad that your senses were dulled from the first explosion — your hearing, especially, as it meant you were less effected by the close-range on this one. You saw Peter’s eyes widen as he looked up above you at where the explosion had just occurred. You just about managed to web him before shooting a web towards the next building, feeling something in your shoulder pull sharply with his extra weight and the suddenness of the move.

You squinted down at him as he gripped the web attached to his chest with one hand, his lips moving more frantically as he spoke to a hologram projected by the watch on his other hand.

“Shit, what is going on?” You asked, though mostly to yourself, but the only way you could tell you had even voiced the words was by the way they rumbled out of your throat. That explosion had messed up your hearing, for the moment, anyway, and you quickly realised that with your slow healing and the ringing in your ears, this fight was going to be majorly difficult.

You only had a moment to think that, before something snapped the web that was holding you to the building, sending both you and Peter falling through the air. Embarrassingly, you’re pretty sure that you let out a yell of some sort.

All the air was knocked out of you the next second as something hurtled into you, sending you careening towards the windows of the closest building. Peter, for a moment, had a shocked expression on his face, before he seemingly realised what was going on, smiling and letting out a string of words that you didn’t hear. You groaned as your sore back collided with the window, smashing upon your impact, and you were sent sprawling over a desk, a monitor breaking underneath your sudden weight.

Yet again, there was a hand against your shoulder, and you paid it no mind as your head dropped back, thudding against the desk. You couldn’t help but groan, the duress that your back had been under today was certainly taking its toll, leaving your whole spine throbbing with pain. On top of that, you were struggling to catch your breath, and with the sudden adrenaline provided by the spider-sense fading, the intensity of the pain in your ears was increasing.

Finally, you managed to peel your eyes open to see a concerned Peter B. Parker looking at you, with Miguel O’Hara stood beside the shattered window, staring out menacingly, as if daring whoever it was to attack again. Peter said something else, squeezing your shoulder, and all you could do in response was hold up one thumb.

Miguel seemingly barked out an order over his shoulder, and a moment later, you were squinting against the bright orange light of a portal.

Peter was hauling you to your feet, leaning to hold one of your arms over his shoulder, practically carrying your weight towards the portal looming ahead. “No, no, wait,” You said, and you felt the way your words slurred as you became slightly delirious with a mixture of pain, adrenaline, and desperation. “Stop, I gotta—”

He only shook his head, before tipping the two of you forward until you both fell into the portal.

The dizzying feeling of inter-dimensional travel definitely didn’t help the pounding in your temples, nor the nausea you had previously been feeling, and you had no choice but to try and focus on Peter’s grip on you as you squeezed your eyes shut. When the world finally stopped spinning, or feeling like it was falling away around you, you opened your eyes just enough to take note of where you were — which was back in the Infirmary of the Spider Society HQ.

You shook Peter off, standing on your own weight and waving him away when he tried to assist you as you swayed once more. You glared, eyes narrowed, and turned to head straight back through the portal you had come from, only to see it close before your very eyes.

The same Spider-Doctor from the last time you were here snapped a band around your wrist, and you squinted down at the red and blue band. It made you feel lighter, even slightly, which felt good on your aching bones and muscles. You opened your mouth to speak as the Spider-Doctor led you to sit down on an empty bed with white sheets, but you vaguely saw the way his mask shifted as he presumably spoke. You couldn’t tell what he was saying with his mask on, but a minute later, you felt a sharp prick against the inside of your elbow.

You just about had the lucidity to murmur “You fucker—” before you succumbed to the weight of your eyelids.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

When you woke up, it was to a throbbing pain in your forehead, that only got worse when you tried to open your eyes. At the very least, you were glad to have your hearing returned to you, albeit slightly muffled, which you were only aware of because the sound of voices across the room was the reason for you waking.

“I’m just saying, maybe knocking the kid out wasn’t the greatest idea!” Peter B. Parker’s annoyingly loud voice says, slightly high pitched in the end. Who he was saying it to, however, you couldn’t say, not without opening your eyes. And that didn’t feel like a good idea, the lights even with your eyes closed feeling like too much.

Instead, you just groan, bringing your hand up to rest over both of your eyes. “It wasn’t a great idea.” You say through gritted teeth, more than annoyed over the situation you found yourself in. Honestly, what did these people have against leaving you be? Why did they think they had any right to tell you what to do, or how to handle things, or to overrule you when it came to your own treatment?

“Hey, kid!” Peter responds, drawing the letters out in that typical oh shit voice. From the snippet of the conversation you had caught, at least he was seemingly trying to advocate for your consciousness. However, that didn’t change the fact that he was there when that Spider-Doctor knocked you out. No, you were still pissed. And when you got your hands on that doctor? He was in for it.

Any other thoughts or feelings on the matter were overturned when you realised that your hand was resting over your eyes, not the lenses of your mask.

Who do these people think they are?

You open your mouth to jump into a rant on that exact subject, on the audacity that they all have, but find yourself silenced by somebody grabbing onto your free wrist, and seemingly dropping your mask into your hand. You feel it until you’ve got it the right way around, and then pull it over your face.

The lights are much more bearable with your lenses back over your eyes, but it’s still painful, and still worsens that pounding in your head. But it does mean that you can see who’s around you; Peter, Miguel and the Spider-Doctor. You have half the mind to leap at that doctor, but Miguel is raising placating hands in your direction before you can make the move to do so.

“Let’s all calm down.” Miguel says, placing his hands on his hips when your eyes only narrow at him.

“What is wrong with you? Who gave you people the right to—to take off my mask? To knock me out? Hell, to come to my universe and get in my business!” You practically yell out, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the way your back hurts with the movement and glaring when the three of them step forward to help you.

“If Peter hadn’t gotten there when he did, you would’ve died.” Miguel responds plainly, seemingly aggravated by your irritation. One of his arms is raised in a gesture towards the man, who smiles almost guiltily, as if helping you was a crime. Which, in your mindset, it might as well have been. “There was an anomaly, a villain from another dimension targeting you.”

“I can handle myself.” You spit out, though the way the room spins when you stand is almost a direct contrast to your words. Your blood is rushing through your veins, and you realise that there’s a machine beeping next to you, increasing in frequency. As you look, you realise it’s measuring your heart rate, and you yank wires off of you that you hadn’t even noticed before, as if they were exposing you somehow. “And that doesn’t give you the right to take off my mask. Who does that?”

Spider-Doctor raises his hands, as if surrendering, though seems unintimidated by the way your glare switches to him. “It was necessary. Your hearing was severely damaged by the explosion, you needed treatment. You have dampening-buds in your ears now, while your healing catches up.” While that sounds reasonable, it only makes you angrier. Why did these people even care if some anomaly killed you? If your hearing was damaged? Why did they insist on bothering you?

Miguel sighs, pinching his nose, before he lifts his head up to speak to you again. You just about stop yourself from making a snotty comment about his attitude. You didn't even want to be here, and here he was, acting like dealing with you was such an inconvenience to him. It was frustrating. “Your universe seems to be at some sort of epicentre of anomalies, and we don’t know why. Yet.”

“We’re just trying to keep you safe. You can’t deal with all of those anomalies alone, nobody can. Sometimes, you need a team.” Peter says softly, like he could convince you of the matter. “Believe me, you don’t want to learn that the hard way.” He adds on, smiling almost hesitantly, as if there’s a memory he’s thinking of connected to his own words.

You’re sighing through your nose, your teeth gritting together as you regard them. “Okay, fine, you want to come take out your anomalies, or whatever? You do that. But anything more than that isn’t welcome.” You say, at last, your eyes narrowed towards them as you wait for their responses.

You still don’t really understand it, any of it, but it’s becoming clear that you have no choice but to deal with these people. Apparently, they were not budging on all of this stuff, which — fine, so long as they stay out of your way. The last thing you need is a bunch of Spider-people stepping on your toes, or making you seem incapable in front of the citizens of your own dimension when in the end, they’ll all up and leave.

After all, you can remember your mother telling you how important it is to do things yourself. The moment you start accepting help, you relax, and when they decide they don’t want to help you anymore? You’re screwed, your sense of independence reduced to ashes. And as Arachnid, there’s far too much at stake to risk that happening.

“Here,” Miguel says, only nodding his agreement — or at least, that’s what you assume the nod was for. He throws a watch towards you, and you catch it with some confusion. “In case you see any anomalies before we do.” He explains as he watches you fiddle witht he watch in both hands, glaring down at it as if it was offensive. He’s relatively satisfied when you relax at that explanation. While Miguel doesn’t voice what else it’s for, knowing you’d only get irritated and refuse the watch, he’s silently hoping that you’ll understand. It’s so you can come to them, if you need them. They can only hope that they’ll be able to tell you that, one day, before it’s too late, without the offer scaring you off.

“So, I’m good to go?” You ask, looking between the three Spider-Men still staring at you and the watch you hesitantly clasp around your wrist. They nod, or, Peter and Miguel do, while the Spider-Doctor throws his hands in the air, exasperated.

“That dimension is yours,” Peter says, leaning over to see the screen of your watch. “The button at the bottom will input this dimension as the destination. Just press that,” He points to another button, “To open the portal to whichever dimension has been typed in.”

You nod, still pissed that he’d let the Spider-Doctor knock you out, but at least you didn’t give him a snarky comment. Instead, you just pressed the button to go back to your own dimension, and stepped through the portal the moment it was big enough for you to go through.

You didn’t expect for him to follow you through.

“Hey, listen,” Peter says, almost reluctantly, as if he doesn’t want to upset you. When you turn to him, he raises his hands, as if to further prove that sentiment. “I am sorry that he knocked you out, I didn’t know he was going to do that.”

“Okay, fine, apology accepted.” You say, flatly, turning to survey where exactly you are. It doesn’t take you long to notice the remains of the building you had been camping out in, the building charred and the air still thick with all the smoke that had been produced.

“I wasn’t done,” Peter sighs, pinching at the bridge of his nose momentarily. “I also wanted to say that I’m sorry about your building. And I wanted to ask, well, mention about how when Doctor-Peter took off your mask, he noticed you don’t have anything protecting your ears, like other Spiders with your level of enhanced hearing do.”

You turn to stare blankly at him, while mulling through where exactly you’re going to stay in your head. If you’re being honest, you’re not paying his words much mind. So what, you don’t have anything protecting your hearing? Sure, sometimes you had stuffed earbuds into your ears when you knew you were going into a rough fight, but you didn’t know when some psycho exploded your building right in front of you. Plus, it’s not like you have unlimited resources to figure out some way of protected your ears under your mask while also letting you effectively use your hearing.

“Okay? And?” You ask, voice edging on the side of boredom. In all honesty, you just want to be left alone. You want to put on your comfy clothes, curl up into a ball and go to sleep so you can dream of a world where everything is okay. The likelihood of that happening is small, but not impossible, right?

“Well,” Peter hesitates then, which piques your interest the slightest bit. “Here, I had these made back when my hearing was crazy sensitive, but it’s not anymore, so I got no use for them!” He says, holding out two blue and red earbuds in a clear case. “You gotta wait until your ears are healed up to use ‘em, but I figured they’d do you more good than me.”

For a moment, you’re ready to deny him. To glare and insist that you don’t need his help. But then, he had said that they were originally for him, and he didn’t need them any longer, so really, would it be so bad to take them? To accept this one thing? To allow yourself to be saved of this tiniest bit of pain?

“You’re sure?” You ask, likely the least aggressive you’d spoken to him, though that’s not to say that it was asked softly. You were still firm on not accepting their help, on doing your own thing, but you could accept this much, surely? It couldn’t hurt.

Peter smiles, a short laugh leaving him, and he waves the box towards you. “I’m sure!”

“…Thanks.” You say, shortly, as you accept the earbuds offered to you. He also hands you the backpack that you had lost track of after the attack, and you accept that far more quickly. You’re glad that it feels the exact same weight as it did the last time you held it, before you shove the earbuds into the opening and zip it back up.

There’s a portal still open on the rooftop the two of you stand on, and Peter backs up to go towards it almost reluctantly. “Also, if you need somewhere to stay—”

“Don’t push it,” You respond, quickly, cutting him off before he could finish what he was saying. He doesn’t take offence to your abruptness, and smiles with a nod, before he disappears into the portal. You stare out at the city around you, looking in the direction of another building you had been very reluctant to return to. “What is my life?” You ask yourself, rhetorically, because you don’t know how you’d even answer that.

You glance behind you to ensure the portal is closed, before jumping off the rooftop, freefalling, relishing in the way the cold wind soothes the pain in your back. Before long, though, you have to shoot a web to catch yourself. You head towards the only place you know will be suitable for you, but can’t shake the way the thought of it chills you.

All you can do is hope that this multiverse stuff will be over with, and soon.

#heartpascal writes #atsv spoilers #across the spiderverse spoilers #spiderman atsv spoilers #spiderman across the spider verse spoilers #spiderverse x reader #spiderverse x platonic reader #spiderverse x you #miguel o’hara x platonic reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x reader #peter b parker x platonic reader #peter b parker x reader #peter b parker x you #spiderverse one shot #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv angst #miguel o’hara angst #peter b parker angst #idk how to TAG IM SORRY

[wyvernest]

mating szn

PART 2‼️ (part 1)

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!gf!reader

warnings: horny miguel, smut, fluff, dryhumping, unprotected p-i-v, breeding kink, scent marking, primal play, rutting miguel, possessiveness, reader is ovulating, descriptions of oral sex (f!receiving), rough sex

summary: miguel comes home feeling extremely needy

Stumbling and yelping in sync with his heavy footsteps catching up fast, you reach the first floor.

Before you get to offer yourself a fraction of a second to decide your next move, the hallway carpet curls up under your feet, slipping behind as your arms instinctively shoot forward for you to catch yourself.

Bringing one knee to your chest, you're prepared to launch yourself forward like an olympic runner. 

Too bad.

Miguel's broad hands grip your waist from behind, once again sending jolts of adrenaline throughout your entire system.

You scream in delight through playful giggles, calling out his name breathlessly and maliciously arching into his hold. 

You're getting wetter by the second seeing just how horny he is.

He pushes you down, forcing you on both knees. The deep pants from the chase quickly turn into something else as you feel his weight on your back, feel him get on one knee behind you. 

His grip on your waist tightens. He brings his crotch up to your ass, grinding his erection up and down your clothed slit.

His hips roll slowly, rubbing the thick shaft of his hard-on lazily and mindlessly, the motions shallow and enticing.

"Ah, come on, baby", He leans forward, nuzzling his face into your soft hair, basking in the slightly-sweet, flowery scent of your shampoo. With a messy kiss to your neck, he speaks, raspy with need,

"Can't help it." More wet, sloppy kisses to your neck, more thrusts of his rock hard cock against your drenched folds through the thin material of your panties and his boxers. "I need, I need - ugh" the words fail to form as his hot breath hits the back of your neck, followed by more kisses and bites.

He brings a hand to the meat of your right thigh, grabbing harshly. He then lets it slip up over the mound of your pussy, cupping you and pushing two fingers over your folds, still stopped by your panties. You shiver at the feeling of his huge, warm palm touching your core so pervertedly, so desperately. 

He can feel the wet patch on the cotton fabric, proof of reciprocated desire.

His senses once again catch the unmistakable, ever so dearly intoxicating aroma of you, so ready for him. His eyes roll back with a silent inhale, his bare chest rising and falling on your back. 

He wants nothing more than to bury his face between your plush thighs and lap at your essence, pussy-drunk and keen on overstimulating you; licking and sucking at your clit, circling around your damp folds with his tongue until you're pushing him away, begging for a break, swollen and exhausted.

He can almost imagine you, tangling your fingers in his hair, pushing and pulling, either smothering him into your velvety cunt, needy and on the edge, or trying to escape his grip. He'd only hold you down, burly arms curling around your legs, just so he could make you come again, to feel you pulsate, feel your juices coat his mouth.

But with the way his cock twitches, begging for friction and stimulation, he can't think straight. 

He feels an overwhelming urge to shove himself inside you and fill you with his cum, to see his cock rearranging your guts through your belly, to empty his balls in your womb and watch his seed dribble out of you, and push it back in with his still hard cock, hold it there so that it takes.

His warm, eager hands travel down to your panties, and in their loose hold as he attempts to drag them down your thighs, you once again snake away, giggling with a sardonic grin that doesn't do well in covering up the desire evident on your features.

"¡Mierda!" He grunts, and you enter the bedroom, reaching the balcony door and turning around. You catch the sight of Miguel clawing at the door frame to take the turn and come in faster. 

Before you can react and take your eyes off the enormous bulge in his shorts, the defined shape of his dick protruding erotically against the material, he pounces, caging you against the wall, distancing your legs far apart with one knee.

His palms slip to your sides, not missing the savory opportunity to settle on the sides of your tits. He fondles their softness with the heels of his hands, pushing them together, pressing his whole body into yours.

You let out a barely audible moan as he corners you, almost squeezing you between his muscular frame and the wall behind you, and he almost loses all that's left of his sanity.

He kisses your temple, full of yearning. Although, he's instantly reminded that his scent has worn off of your feverish skin.  

"Por favor,-" a deep groan vibrates in his chest against you, making you quiver.

"He estado cachondo todo el día," (I've been horny all day). He holds you tight against him, your tender breasts pressed flush against his pecs.

"No podía pensar en nada más que en ti" (I couldn't think of anything but you.) 

You finally give in and offer a smidge of relief, sliding your hand down to grab his clothed hard cock. The second he feels you palm him tentatively, he reflexively starts rubbing himself on your hand like an animal in heat, groaning ruggedly.

"That's it." He rasps, fed up, and it's almost a threat.

He slowly walks over to the bed with you secure in his arms, but when his knees hit the frame, he doesn't drop you like he normally would. No. He's not giving you another chance to flee. A part of him loves the cat-and-mouse game he knows you enjoy so much, but the other part can already feel his fat, full balls turning blue.

Placing you down, hands still gripping your waist viciously, he gets on the bed, the mattress sinking down under his weight.

You feel your clit throb as he traps you with his thighs, taking your shirt off. His touch leaves goosebumps over your silky skin.

Under your hazy gaze fixed on his movements, he hovers above you, skipping the usual looks of adoration. Not that the sentiments were gone by any means, but he was far too needy to wait any longer.

The kiss he suffocates you with is fiery, full of all the pent up tension he had to endure.

As his mouth moves against yours eagerly and messily, you notice how it lacks his characteristic expert, methodical approach.

His lips were just as soft as ever, but devoured your every moan and breath with a fervor unfamiliar. His tongue slips past the liplock, dominating you in no time, and right when you start to adjust to the new strategy, catching up with his movements, he parts from you, breaking the kiss and sucking your soul out of you with it.

He continues his attack down your throat, biting and licking hurriedly, marking you as his. 

Groaning freely, he reaches your breasts, taking them in his mouth, one after the other. His hands squeeze, roam and play with them, making you bite down on your lower lip and whine beneath him.

He suckles on the perked nipples, releasing them to catch his breath with another gravel moan. When he's done, your chest is coated in his spit; fresh, hickies already blooming over your tender tits.

The weight of his cock settles on your thigh, pressed snugly and oozing precum through a dark spot on his boxers. 

Your own hands attach to his silky dark hair, caressing and brushing wild strands away from his forehead, clinging and pulling occasionally when he latches onto your breasts again after taking a few deep breaths.

Sliding lower, impatiently licking and biting over the line of your stomach, he finally gets to your panties. 

He kisses the soft lips of your pussy through the fabric, the scent of your arousal driving him mad. He groans again, words slurred through the desperate, obscene licks, "Eres.." He extends his tongue, lapping up at the dampness, "..tan bonita." (You're so pretty)

Your heels are digging into his shoulder blades as you squirm and moan under his sultry touch. Through half lidded eyes, you see him bare his pearl white fangs, as if prepared to sink them into your sensitive skin.

You gasp, a little above a moan.

"Miguel! Don't - ah" You whimper as he grits his teeth around the elastic of your panties, tearing them in two with the help of one hand.

He grabs your thighs, kneeling between your legs.

Shoving his hand in his shorts, he takes his dick out, its mushroom head glistening mauve. He begins to stroke it more violently than you thought he would've taken pleasure in.

Mouth agape, pupils blown wide, he looks downright primal. Solely focused on claiming you, on stuffing you full of his potent seed, of draining his fat balls in your warm cunt until you're begging him to stop through ablaze overstimulation.

Cock in hand, incontestably massive encompassed by his proportionally large fingers, he slaps the hard, angered, heavy shaft on your tender folds, groaning at the wet sound of flesh against flesh. He rubs it over your lips, drenching it in your juices.

You notice his thighs flex, already insanely sensitive. When he eases the head in, he moans, rough and low in his throat, brows creased in pained pleasure. You whimper his name, legs quivering faintly on each side of his waist.

Using his weight to press your body down into the mattress, forcing you onto him, he slides his arms underneath your knees, throwing them over his shoulders and bending you in half.

A shiver bursts through you at the sensation. You clench around him, forcing a strangled groan out of his throat.

He braces himself down on his forearms, face nestled in the crook of your neck. Pushing in, the bulbous tip of his cock kisses your cervix as he bottoms out and gets straight to a tireless pace, not giving you the ritualistic second to adjust. 

The bed creaks and squeaks with the way he's throwing himself into your cunt, pounding you into the soft cushions relentlessly. 

His hips gyrate roughly against yours, his tense abdomen waving into you, dipping his meaty cock in your juices with an obscene, wet squelching, finishing each delicious swing with a quicker entry, more forceful and animalistic. His pubes brush harshly against your engorged, swollen clit, sending jolts of electricity through your core.

Skipping the tension, the build-up of speed, he drives straight to the euphoric rhythm of a release chase. His balls slap onto your ass, his pelvic bone nearly delivering bruising slams against your own.

“Ugh, oh Miguel-,” you gasp for more air, struggling to form a coherent sentence through delirium, your breaths and moans rhythmically timed by his rough thrusts. 

You curl your arms around his neck, nails digging into his back and shoulders. He looks down at you, watching your breasts bounce in his face, and starts rutting harder into you, every ridge and vein of his fat cock brushing against your sensitive spots perfectly.

Each time you call for him, it's a melody, a rapturous chant that has him on his knees, his mind in cobwebs, his heart aching; and for the time being, his cock throbbing as well.

"I'm - ah! Cumming!Ugh, M- Mig- uel- !" You moan sharply, your orgasm rapidly threatening to burst like fireworks.

He frowns, panting, shallow breaths hot over your face. You convulse under his massive body, arching your back, squeezing your tits flush against his feverish skin. 

He feels your pussy flutter around his cock, milking him and sucking him in. He groans loudly in your ear, pace faltering ever so slightly. The headboard of the bed keeps slamming against the room wall, spurring your orgasm on with the reminder of the force of the man above you.

With one final thrust, his whole body tenses. He pushes forward, burying his cock in your soft, warm cunt, dumping his load in much slower and shallow rolls of his hips. You feel his dick pulsate inside you with each new spurt of cum, the remnants of your own climax making you clench around him reflexively.

He stills, relief washing over him. Meeting your gaze, he watches how you come back to your senses, the blinding lust replaced by love and admiration.

He grabs your waist and pulls you down with him, laying you on his chest, his softening cock still inside you.

You close your eyes, head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

Dinner long forgotten.

divider by @cafekitsune

a/n: did my best here. the tags deadass took longer than the writing

TAGS

@thel0velykey190 @allysunny @weirdothatwritess @animechick93 @6thhokageswife @spookydragonsong @aisyakirmann @playmatenextdoor @skulfan1 @sat10 @2joos2cry @2099hitmylineyline @aiyaaayei @holographicang3l @heartfairy @cyberbugg @freehentai @acrazybiotch374 @theywhowriteandknowthings @shinyberry69 @pluviophilis @barely-thriving23 @realalpacorn @thekidscallmebosss @hrlzy @m4dyy @cringeycookies @tendoswifi @greatheartattacks @reborn-rekall @darksidescorner @yehet-moi-ohorat @poeticmoonspirit @kth137

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x reader one shot #miguel o hara #atsv miguel #miguel smut #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o’hara smut #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miguel x reader #spider man 2099 #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #across the spiderverse #spider verse

[inkdrinkerworld]

yes!!! miguel is so into dumbification!!! can we get a hc for that? i feel like he goes all crazy when you cry, like starts laughing and going faster! <33 tyty

you ofc can!!! 18+only MDNI cw: smut, dumbification, creampie, p in v penetration

miguel knows it’s mean, knows he’s messing with your head but you just look so fucking pretty like this that he can’t bring himself to feel bad.

your legs are on his shoulders, hands gripping the sheets as he leans down and fucks into you.

you gasp, eyes rolling back as you feel him move deeper. it should be illegal for anyone to fuck this good.

he’s already pulled four orgasms from you and you’re sure he’s going to try to pull more but you can’t fight it- it feels too good.

“miguel,” you groan, hands tugging the sheets as the man above you rolls his hips.

“qué amor?” he murmurs, sweat dribbling down his chest. when you don’t answer he rolls your clit and you scream making him laugh.

“please,” you beg and he smirks.

“please what? you know you have to use your words, princesa.” you can’t and he knows it, the extent of your vocabulary right now is his name and pleads.

his hips keep moving and the head of his cock keeps spearing against your cervix and you can’t think. not when his thumb continues rolling your clit.

your hands move from the sheets to his chest, nails digging into his skin as he speeds up.

“fuck,” you cry, body shaking as your fifth orgasm crests.

“you can take it baby,” miguel licks your neck, biting the tender skin there as he feels your cunt clench faster. “just let go for me.”

tears stream down your face as you come, hiccuping when miguel starts chasing his own release.

“look at you,” his hand reaches your face, thumb whisking away your tears. “feels good doesn’t it?” he’s mocking you now, but you can’t tell the difference so you nod anyway.

miguel chuckles a little just before he fills you up. his hand brushes away your hair, lips finding yours and then your cheek.

“you okay?” he whispers, hands stroking your thighs as he puts them down on the bed.

“yeah,” your voice is airy, eyes unfocused as you look at him. “need a minute.” you admit and he smiles, kissing your nose before flipping you both over.

“sorry,” he coos at your whimper, stroking your back to help you relax on top of him.

#miguelo’hara #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara one shot #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara drabble #miguel o’hara blurb #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x yn #miguel o’hara x black!reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel x y/n #miguel spiderman #miguel smut #atsv miguel

[messylustt]

Ok I absolutely love the way you write-

Imagine you decide to go back to school but like online classes and Miguel would have you cock warming him. And immediately after you hit that ‘end zoom’ or ‘leave classroom video’ he’s absolutely plowing into you like a animal in heat-

distracted in class — miguel o’hara ( nsfw ). i cant do this anymore — thank you so much, my loveee.

your lips are pressed tightly together, as you pretend to nod along to what the teacher is saying. something about the economy? you aren’t sure because all you can focus on is miguel’s cock buried deep inside you. your breathing is stuttering as you try not to move your hips. god, you just wanted to move. either up and down or completely off. because cock warming him like this was too much for your poor brain to train into the lesson on your computer.

you were on miguel’s thighs, the angle of the computer cutting him off, so all appeared innocent. miguel’s mouth was twitching in a snarl to move, because god did he want to just fuck you silly. your warm little hole kept clenching around him, making his grip on your hips tighten to the point of claw marks. “come on…cariño…let me move…i need to fucking move.” his low desperate tone was right by your ear.

“i — i have to focus.” you blink a few times too many, praying the teacher won’t ask you a question. “i cant…dios…i cant.” miguel’s hips had begun to try and move up into you. but with your weight atop of him you managed to not reciprocate. “i need to fuck you, y/n.” then finally you can see the lesson wrapping up, as other collage students dropped off the line. and as your hand shifted to tap the ‘end call’ button, miguel’s grip tightened.

“stay fucking still now...” miguel growled out as he thrusted up into your dripping cunt, making a small mewl escape you.

“yeah…that’s it…gonna fuck this pretty little hole that you’ve kept me from feeling…sliding up and down my cock—carajo.” his thrusts are animalistic and feverish, as groans leave him, his hands spreading your thighs further apart as his claws dig into your flesh. his hips movements are making you slightly bounce up and down on his dick.

“you have no idea what that just did to me…” his words are harsh, as he kept you at his mercy. “hours…of being in your pussy and I couldn’t even move…that’s not gonna happen again.” obscene sounds are filling the room, as your hips meet his — still on his lap. his teeth are by your ear as he nips at the skin. “no…next time if I want to be inside you — moving — i will be…and I don’t care if you need to focus, cariño…you just gotta be good and let me move you along my cock…”

“it’s study…i…i have to pay attention.” you manage as your legs shake. “that’s okay…” he coos. “you can be my dumb little slut…actually I’d like that…” he’s breathing harder as his cock twitches. “you can stay my dumb little pet, whose pretty head is filled with me and only me as you let me feel this hole for as long…as I please.”

© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms.

#. ( spidey mark ) #the miguel effect #glitter dose #miguel fucking o’hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara fic #miguel x you #miguel o’hara across the spider verse #miguel o’hara x y/n #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara one shot #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara blurb #atsv #atsv x reader #atsv smut #18+ #smut

[baka-bakeneko]

Enrapture - Miguel O'Hara [NSFW]

Miguel O'Hara x Venom x Fem Spider Scientist reader (afab biology)

a/n: venom venom venom miguel again again again again! (part one)

tags: Minors DNI, NSFW, symbiotic relationship (still kinda), obsessive Venom, just as obsessive and possessive Miguel O'Hara, consensual non-consent, breeding kink, missionary, tentacle-like appendages, fighting over reader, dominance/ agression, p in v sex, wrap it before you tap it psa

wc: 2.7k

synopsis: Miguel and Venom can make it work. Venom and you can make it work. Miguel, Venom and you can make it work.

You woke up to the burning smell of pancakes. You'd rolled over in the middle of the night, curling into Miguel's scalding body and kicking away the comforter to opt of your fiance's heavy arms.

Fastening your tired body upright, your neck stiffened as you grabbed the flat sheet and tied it around you to inspect the smell.

"Venom, I'm telling you, she won't eat all this," Miguel whispered hurriedly, standing in the middle of the kitchen. Hands on his hips, he turned around in the direction of Venom's appendage darting back and forth.

Nourishment for amor, nourishment for Miguel. Nourishment for Venom.

Miguel reached to rub at his temple, another appendage of Venom's extending from his spine to grab onto the skillet cooking bacon.

You tiptoed to the doorway, hearing Miguel's hurried whispering and wanting to inspect.

"Venom!" Miguel hissed, grabbing onto the symbiote's appendage to stop him. "That's enough. I won't eat all this either."

That's not fair! I'm hungry.

"Honey?" You questioned, staring at Miguel in the kitchen holding Venom in his hand.

Both Miguel and Venom turned in your direction, taking in your shocked face. "Good morning....amor."

"W-w-what the hell is that?" You asked immediately, rushing to Miguel's side to touch at the black ooze.

Miguel attempted to twist away from you, forcing Venom back into his body. "Y/N, hermosa, relax. Please."

You ran your fingers along Miguel's spine, hoping to find a bulge where the black ooze originated from.

If she touches me, that's not my fault!

"Venom, relax." Miguel coaxed, allowing the symbiote to reel back into his spine.

You pulled your hand back and rested both on your hips. "Miguel. Explain."

Miguel exhaled and looked down at you. He reached to pinch at his brow then glanced around the messy kitchen, making sure no remnants of Venom were around.

"Okay," Miguel started, grabbing onto your waist and pulling you to sit on the counter.

You crossed your arms, kicking the train of the flat sheet around your legs while glaring at your fiancé.

"So," Miguel began, pacing before you once as he swiped his palm over his face. "That...is Venom. The anomaly you found yesterday."

Your brows shot up as you slid off of the counter. "I'm sorry? The anomaly...Is in your body."

Miguel stiffened in place, backing into the stove as you stepped closer towards him. "Yes," he spoke slowly.

"You immediately put that thing in your body?" You reached for Miguel's wrist and hissed at the heat from his skin.

"No! No, it's just...Venom is symbiotic." Miguel tried while you lifted his arm to look under it.

You examined his bare side, seeing no bulges or sores that the appendage could expel from. Dropping Miguel's arm, you glared at him in disbelief.

"What did you do, Miguel?" You narrowed your eyes, running your hands along his waist then up the front of his body.

Her touches, they feel...

Miguel muscled through Venom's excited traipsing along his spine and grit his teeth.

"I was trying to do research. The thing, Venom, as you've seen, responds to both of our bodies."

You nodded slowly for Miguel to continue, eyes narrowed at him.

"I opened the box, attempted to touch it..."

You continued following his explanation, eyes roaming blankly over his body. There were no telling signs of the anomaly on him.

"It sank into me, amor." Miguel said finally, then turned over his shoulder to call for Lyla.

The sprite blipped into existence, producing her AI tablet with Miguel's body scan results. "Hey, check this out."

She held it in front of your face, allowing you to scan through the layout of Miguel, seeing the heat map light up along his body, then the shifting ooze within him.

Your eyes darted between Lyla's tablet to Miguel and back. "It attacked your spleen? Is it hostile?"

Miguel held his hands up in defense. "No. As I've said, we've come to a symbotic relationship."

You furrowed your brows at your fiancé. "But why? Why would you do that?"

For you, amor.

Miguel stood upright and forced his fist to the middle of his spine where Venom was housed.

What? It's true.

Miguel cleared his throat and met your eyes. "I allowed him my symbiosis to deny him you."

"Miguel..." you began, looking up from Lyla's tablet. "Does it wish to ingest me?"

Definitely not. The things I'd like to be in her.

Miguel pursed his lips together, turning on the burner behind his back. "No. It - he - Venom wanted you to host them. They find you compatible symbiotically."

"How does Venom know that?" You asked, crossing your arms again.

"Venom comes from Klyntar, where symbiotic beings like itself can judge compatible hosts by interaction via skin scanning." Lyla read off of the tablet.

You tightened the wrap of the flat sheet around you. "Lyla, what is Miguel's compatibility rate with Venom?"

Miguel straightened up, resting his hands on his waist. "Lyla, don't read tha--"

"Eighty-three percent."

Miguel exhaled deeply, shutting his eyes to ease his fast beating heart. "You are not getting her. We agreed."

We agreed, but if she asks...

You glared at Miguel, then looked over at Lyla's tablet. Upon reading Miguel's body map, you noticed that the symbiote housed itself in his spine.

You reached out, curling your arm around Miguel's body to touch the middle of his spine. Miguel flinched, recognizing where you were touching as Venom seemingly purred beneath his skin.

His eyes fluttered.

She's petting us.

"I know," Miguel whispered, staring down at you. Your chin was rested between his pectorals, keeping his stare while you tested your theory. "What're you getting at, hermosa?"

"I want to share Venom," you admitted softly. "To ease you of them harming you."

Yes!

"No," Miguel stated firmly, worming out of your hold when he felt Venom begin to seep from his skin. "I can't let you do that. I don't want you to."

"Why not?" You asked, turning as Miguel rounded the kitchen island.

Yes, Miguel. Why not?

Miguel shook his head, leaning forward against the counter. "I want to know how to get rid of him if I need to. If you took part of him..."

Your furrowed brows softened the more you stared at him. You understood instantly, but the thought of Miguel putting himself forward infuriated you.

You reached out for his hand. "If he's not dangerous, then we shouldn't worry now."

The silence between you grew until the dark appendage spawned from Miguel's side. You reached out with your free hand to timidly touch at the freeforming ooze, watching as it slithered between your fingers in a grasp.

Miguel took a deep breath, carefully minding you and Venom interacting. Venom's ooze slithered along your forearm, wrapping around to your elbow.

Mi amor.

Miguel hid a roll of his eyes, urging Venom to pull back. "He seems to really like you."

You smiled, lifting your arm before meeting Miguel's eyes. "Almost as much as you?"

"Never as much as me," Miguel said, relaxing his shoulders.

Spoil sport.

Miguel stepped closer to you, lowering his head to rest his forehead against yours. "I'm sorry..."

You exhaled against his lips, inhaling the stale coffee on his breath. As your lips met, the slack ooze of Venom grew taut between you. Your hand, once accepting Venom's touch, was now bracing Miguel's waist.

Your fingers slowly slipped beneath his waistband. Miguel hummed against your lips, feeling Venom gear up to travel up and down his spine in excited waves.

He imagined the symbiote practically panting over his shoulder, making him salivate extra in his kiss. Venom sloshed over Miguel's tongue, tainting your taste with his before darting to try at your mouth.

Miguel pulled back with a clearing of his throat, wiggling whatever inch of Venom tried at you. You quirked a curious brow, your hand petting round the front of Miguel's waist.

"Sorry, he-uh-he almost slipped into your mouth." Miguel gulped, leaning in to resume where he was interrupted.

You curled your free arm around the back of Miguel's neck, heightening on your tiptoes. "Next time, let him."

I'm in love.

Miguel swore under his breath but met your lips again, this time pinning you against the counter before pulling you up. The flat sheet around your body slowly cascaded away, tangled to the floor by Miguel's feet.

Your hand at Miguel's waist dove to caress his nestled pubic hair, grinning at the abrasive texture before feeling the length of his cock.

Venom purred in Miguel's chest, met with the invitation to play along. The dark appendage appeared from Miguel's spine, tickling at your knee before slithering along your inside thigh.

You jolted at the touch, hotter than Miguel's actual hands or tongue. Still, you took Miguel's hands and guided them over your breasts, down your sides before they rested on your hips.

Venom's touch continued, seeping between Miguel's fingers and under one of your breasts. Miguel seethed against your kiss, feeling the symbiote lush his way into your mouth by way of him.

Miguel pressed himself closer, stamping himself to you in dominance. "Backseat, Venom."

No fair. She said let me in.

Miguel bit away, pressing his lips to your cheek to whisper to the alien. "Not in every way. She's mine first."

You huffed in Miguel's ear, biting your lip as you arched into him. "Are you two fighting over me?"

"What? No!"

Yes!

You pulled back to meet Miguel's reddened eyes, the obsidan oozing into his iris much like you'd seen the night before. "Well, don't. I trust you, okay? And I trust Venom in there, too."

Your hand trailed up and down Miguel's spine again, no doubt riling up the symbiote further. Miguel shivered at the affection, Venom purring hard enough to make him vibrate within.

"H-he likes that," Miguel admitted, his body stiffening as his eyes fluttered. "A lot."

You smirked. "Seems he's not the only one."

C'mon, Miguel. We make a good team.

Miguel tried to bite his tongue, but felt the warmth ripple through him with each rumbling purr. You hissed at the feeling, his chest rumbling against yours as Venom's appendages softly seeped from Miguel's body onto yours.

"Once," he grit before your parted lips. "Just this once. And he stops when you tell him."

Of course, our amor comes first.

He slammed his eyes to not roll them before you. You agreed, taking in his stuttering breaths before opening your legs further.

"Be gentle, Venom," you urged, feeling the onyx appendage lapping its way further to your slit.

Miguel cut the symbiote short, managing to touch your clit first in the race of carnal desire. You shivered at your fiance's touch, your knees trembling as he swirled your wet against his rough fingerpads.

Venom's appendage caught up, seeping between Miguel's fingers and peeling back your hood to latch onto your sensitive nub. Your hand lashed out at Miguel's wrist, nails aching to pierce his skin as you cried into his mouth.

The sensitivity was too much at once, drawing your breaths high and tight. Your leg raised, knee buckling against your fiance's side as Venom's touch crested and waned in a soft suckling.

Miguel's nostrils flared, the scent of your arousal fueling his senses. His fingers were doused in you, dipping them to circle your entrance.

You cried further into Miguel's mouth, breaking from his kiss to whine at the ceiling. His lips sloppily crashed against your chin then down to your neck as extra appendages appeared from his sides. Venom caressed your breasts, slithering under them before attaching to your nipples.

Miguel sneered, glaring at your body covered in Venom's darkness. "Venom," he began, his tone edging with disdain.

"Miguel," you whimpered, grabbing the back of Miguel's neck to pull him back into you. "Fuck me."

He gulped dryly, his cock actively straining against his boxers.

Fuck her, Miguel. Fuck her good.

Miguel actively wanted to scoff at the symbiote conversing in his head. He met your lips, pumping his fingers into you as Venom pulsed at your clit.

"Has he warmed you up?" he asked snarkily.

Your eyes fluttered, trying to laugh but a moan escaped your mouth and reverberated against Miguel's. "Are you jealous?"

Miguel chided in stride. "He's only a part of me. He'll butter you up, but I fuck you raw."

A chill raked down your back, arching into Miguel's hot body; melting Venom from your nipples and leaving your pressed, skin to skin, against Miguel.

Miguel rested his hand to your jaw, pulling you to meet his obsidian flooded gaze. Your eyelids fluttered, matching his pumping fingers with rolls of your hips.

"He can aid in your pleasure, but I deliver it. Don't I?" Miguel asked sultrily, searching your lusty eyes already knowing the answer.

You nodded softly, your knee catching to his side and arching back at Miguel's guidance.

"I've been here before him," Miguel stated, dropping his lips to kiss between your breasts, then dragging his warm lips further to peck at your ribs. "And I'll be here long after him, he lives in my wake. I'll give you everything you desire."

Suck up.

Miguel grinned devilishly against your belly, admiring how your body reacted to his touch versus Venom's. Your chest heaved, ready to break.

"Miguel, please," you pleaded. Your hand holding his wrist actively trying to speed him up.

He chuckled, retreating his fingers to pull down his boxers. Angling his steel cock at your entrance, licking his lips at the sight of Venom holding you open to aid the process. Your thighs trembling from your clit being decimated by the symbiote's pressure.

Miguel drove into you, instantly melting at the hug of your velvety walls. His hands, starting from your hips, slithered up your body then back down to force you harder on his cock.

Your head fell back against the counter, a sharp moan escaping from your chest.

"Fuck," Miguel growled against your outstretched body under him. "You're burning up."

His tongue lapped against your skin, the stripe of saliva instantly drying. Miguel climbed over you, stretching his hands out to grab yours and pin them to the counter.

His hips jutted harshly into you, jiggling your body underneath him. Miguel's eyes boggled at the divine sight of you, slowing in his pace to savor your pleasure.

Venom tightened at your clit, pinching before receding. You draped your legs over Miguel's thighs, riding into his thrusts.

The symbiote emerged from Miguel's sides in dark wings, slithering over his host and oozing onto you, between your combined bodies.

Miguel ignored Venom, pulling your hands up over your head for him to drape his arms around your head. Your eyes were locked on Miguel's, forgetting about the rumbling symbiote present between you.

Miguel felt Venom's tentacles slither around his cock, cradling his balls at the same time of holding your pussy open. You lifted your hips, your breath arching higher until you finally orgasmed at the combined force of Miguel and Venom.

Your noises vibrated through your fiance, making Venom pull back and rumbled up and down Miguel's back. Miguel panted, feeling Venom purr within him and practically zoom back and forth on his spine.

The combined senses caused Miguel to drive into you hard, seething as he came as far into you as his cock would let him. The warmth pooled into you, making you feel hotter and overtouched.

Miguel pulled out, slapping his cock against your spent pussy. You hissed softly, your knees shifting to clamp together.

"Mi amor, mi amor, mi amor," Miguel soothed, curling his arms around you, his touch suddenly soft and loving.

Nuestro amor, Miguel.

He kissed your forehead, pulling you into his lap while lightly brushing over your shoulders. Ignoring Venom's sentiment.

"Was it too much? Were we...?" Miguel asked, looking down at you rested against his chest.

Your ear rested against him, shutting your eyes to see if you could hear Venom inside Miguel. Tilting your head up at your fiance, you opened your eyes to see Miguel's natural eye color meeting yours.

"I like the two of you together," you tittered, offering a soft kiss to Miguel's pectoral. "Not so bad."

Miguel sneered, almost entertained by your sentiment. He leaned in to kiss your forehead again, muttered against your hairline:

"Don't expect it all the time."

She likes me!

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