#doc ock x f!reader
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Somewhere In Between | Day 19: Reading
professor!otto octavius x f!reader
Rated E | 1.4k
Tags: age gap, bossy!otto, fingering, edging, actuators as light restraints, praise kink, cockwarming, implied PiV
Poem referenced is Leves Amores
When you find yourself with writers block, you turn to your lover for help. However, you’re not expecting his approach to be quite so hands-on.
You stare at the blinking cursor, willing the words to manifest in your mind, to form the exact conclusion you need.
All you needed was to wrap things up, tie them in a neat little bow. The outline was there, but the wording never quite felt right. The sharp punch you were looking for just out of reach.
You suppose, it doesn’t help that you’re horribly distracted. That you came over to his apartment, laptop in hand, knowing that he’d keep you on track better than if you were at home, surrounded with possible diversions.
And yet, here you were, with the biggest distraction of all. Each edit had been met with a kiss, as you sat beside his modified, overstuffed armchair. Where he had been going over an upcoming lecture - glancing up from the text to give a murmur of encouragement, a smile.
The kisses turning needy, until you were easing onto his lap - your work quite forgotten. Fingers twisting in the thick wool of his turtleneck sweater, one of his actuators curling behind your back to keep you pressed close.
They always betrayed him. His arms, connected to his unconscious thoughts. Contrasting with his words, his “you should be working, my dear”, while they nudged you just a little closer, until you could feel where he thickened inside his trousers.
“I missed you.” You breathed, “I want you. God, I want you.”
There was the peek of his tongue against his bottom lip, his own gaze heavy-lidded. Thumbs brushing back and forth against the curves of your breast, where you could just feel them over your own clothes.
“What do you want?” He asked, watching beneath those thick brows, eyes that catch everything.
“I want you to take me,” You sighed with need, leaning forward to brush your lips against the coarse strands of his beard, where he had grown it out with the changing of seasons, “Want you to take care of me.”
You ached for him, the feeling of him beneath you winning out over the rest.
He laughed then, a low, rough sound. The skeleton of a smug smile from his past, softened by those dark eyes.
You’re lifted, the metal arm against your back curling around your waist. Flipping you until you’re facing the desk, a second arm nudging over your laptop.
“And I want you to work.” Otto told you firmly, a hand pressing against your belly, holding you snug against him, “That’s why you came here, isn’t it?”
He isn’t wrong. And so, you’re sitting, sullenly.
Editing for the second time, stalling as you pick for clues. Shifting impatiently against him, thinking with a corner of your mind about how you can feel the thick curve of him pressed against your ass.
The hand on your stomach twitches. With each stroke of your keys it inches downward - something that you’re acutely aware of. You wonder if it’s encouragement.
If he’ll touch you, if only you keep writing.
It works. It’s good enough for you.
His palm presses against you, the heel of his hand just shy of where you need him. It makes you gasp, your eyes leaving the screen, drifting down.
Rocking against him, trying to get him to adjust his touch. Feeling where the tips of his fingers brush against you, the middle sliding just down the seam of your leggings. The others tracing against your clothed lips, your inner thighs.
“You stopped.” He rasps, the sound low in your ear, “Keep going.”
With a shaky breath, you do.
Ironic that your essay explored the ideas of decadence and aestheticisms in Victorian poetry - because you certainly felt like you were indulging, giving into pleasure over sense.
It would almost be inspiring… if it wasn’t so distracting. But you try - blinking to keep the words in focus as his fingers drift, touch, press.
Winding you up, until you’re biting your tongue between teeth, rocking your hips into the cup of his hand. Eyes closing, testing just how far you can move, if it would be enough.
“You haven’t mentioned Symons.” His idle comment brings you back, as you frown.
Glancing at the paragraph you’re combing through - realizing he’s been reading along. It prickles you, defensiveness curling with the pleasure in your belly.
“We haven’t covered much from him. I thought my other examples were strong enough.” You explain, just as his hand drifts.
Edging past your waistband, beneath the fabric of your underwear. Enjoying your tone - the debate.
“If you were taking my class-” He begins, but you’re cutting him off, with a shake of your head.
“If I were taking your class, this paper would be on nuclear physics, not poetry.”
Otto laughs at that, the sound rumbling. Before you feel his lips ghost against the back of your neck. Fingers that touch down against bare skin, where you’re warm and wet for him.
“Art and science have always been lovers, darling.” His voice is low, amused. Lips pressing against the hollow under your ear - raising goosebumps in its wake, “A man can be well-versed in both.”
You have no retort, not when he’s touching you like this. A finger parting you, sliding back and forth over your clit. His other hand moving to cup your breast, as an actuator loops around your waist, pinning you against him.
Your kisses, and the way you curl,
Delicious and distracting girl,
Into one's arms, and round about,
Luxuriously in and out-
His breath warm in your ear as his fingers circle, as he quotes poetry to you. The smooth tone of his voice washing over you, your head tilting back against his broad shoulder.
Strong to embrace and long to kiss,
And strenuous for the sharper bliss,
A little tossing sea of sighs,
Till the slow calm seal up your eyes.
You moan, and he can feel just how soaked you are for him, for him alone. Those arms move, then.
Lifting you just off his lap, the careful tip of another tugging at your leggings. Pushing them down mid-thigh as he works open his belt.
Pulling himself out, where he’s heavy and flushed for you. Setting you down against his cock, trapping it between the pillow of your thighs, trapped snugly against your cunt.
He lets you rut against him, slicking him up with each pass. Eyes dropping to watch the flushed head slide against your skin, how you wished it was pressing inside, instead.
You fingers drift down to touch him, but one of the actuators curl around your wrist, gently bringing it back to your keyboard.
“Finish this up, darling, and I’ll give you what you want.” He promises, a chaste kiss against your neck - before he leans back, giving you space.
The thud of your pulse in your ears is still distracting, as is the warm length of him pressed against you.
But you try, thinking about what he said. Adding in a little more detail, encouraged by the subtle rocking of his hips. The slide of him against your clit, though whenever you make a sound he stops.
The slow edging winding you up.
You’d always done well under pressure, under a deadline. Two hover over you now - one tomorrow, another so much closer. The length of time you can last before it’s too much.
Another line flows from you, and then another. Piecing the puzzle of your words and thoughts together. Keying the final line of the conclusion with a little flourish, your head tilting to the side so you can see him.
Where he watches, already reading over your shoulder. A low growl to his voice as he moves again, like before.
“Just look at you. So goddamn clever.”
The praise lances though you, warm and coiling in your belly.
An actuator nudging your laptop to the side as he stands. Another arm bringing you with him, bending you over the heavy wooden desk.
His body, so thick and tall and sturdy behind you - his hand wrapped around his cock as he drags it over you, notching himself right at your entrance.
As he asks, “That’s why you’re my girl, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” You moan, and he’s making a rough, appreciative noise as he presses into you.
Filling you, finally. Nudging his way inch by inch as your fingers curl around the edge of the desk, as to try to rock back to meet him.
As you manage one last gasp before he’s fully sheathed. Before he gives you what you’ve earned.
“Yours.”
[dilfcember masterlist]
(Taglist: @andrewrussgarfield, @luxuryberzatto, @obiknights)
#ahh I am excited for this one I hope you like it 📖💕#wwdilfcember#otto octavius x reader#otto octavius x you#doc ock x reader#doc ock x you#Otto Octavius x f!reader
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Playing with fire || Miguel O'hara
Pairing: Miguel O'hara x f!reader
Summary: After risking your life to save one spider, Miguel had enough and decided it was time to discipline you.
Tags: SMUT, NOT BETA READ, face slapping (M&F), brat! reader, spanking, very brief blowjob, gagging, Miguel has a big dick, overstimulation (?), multiple orgasm denial, rough sex, pussy slapping, unprotected sex, pain kink, some aftercare at the end.
Words: 2.8k
idk how Tumblr works as well but user @/octobersoot said something about reader being a brat to Miguel and I had to revamp this one idea lol. I hope this counts as reader being a brat.
Spanish speakers, do correct me with the last one in the translation, thank you in advance :DD
cariño - honey || mi vida - my life || coño - fuck (literally means cunt but google said it can also be used as like 'fuck!' or 'shit!' in English)
"NO DON'T!"
When you ripped yourself from Miguel's hands and jumped down into the black hole to catch the Spider-Man that fell into it, you had two thoughts.
If you die, Miguel would pull you from hell to kill you.
If you lived, Miguel would make sure you'd regret it.
As the void approaches, you latched onto one falling debris and leaped out to get closer to the guy whose wrist’s flicked to release some webs for you to catch on but you ignored it. You’ve seen how using webs to catch someone goes and it didn’t end well, you’re not about to make the same mistakes.
Reaching out to grab the falling Peter's hand, you webbed to the nearest stable item you could before feeling Miguel’s webs wrap around your waist. The momentary fear and adrenaline from saving the spider drained out of your skin almost immediately. Hearing the angry man barking orders above you, you prayed early for your soul.
You're not religious but you'd certainly need a diety's kind soul to take pity on you today once you’re left behind doors with Miguel alone.
"AY COÑO, WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?! DID YOU GET YOUR HEAD HIT SOMEWHERE??"
You grunted, tugging President Spidey with you. "Just pull us up!"
"I should let go of you for being so stupid!"
"Then fucking do it coward!"
Despite his comments, it took one tug from Miguel to pull you and President Spider-Man to a safe spot on a building they were resting at to watch the consequences of altering canon events. The anger radiating out of his body would be enough to trigger your senses, his glare searing a hole through your skull.
Looking up sheepishly, Miguel’s face was contorted into subdued rage. The absolute fury lashing in his dark red eyes made your heart drop to the soles of your feet.
You're absolutely fucked and you don't know if you regret it or not.
On one hand, he's going to murder you and split your body into pieces to feed the kraken version of Doc Ock. But on the other, he's unfathomably hot when he's glaring through your flesh and soul.
How could he be so alluring while plotting your murder? You have no idea.
"We're going to have a talk." His darkened voice made your spine tingle, you nod and turned to run towards Hobi but the firm hand on your shoulder halts you. "Don't move, I'll break your knees if you do."
President Spider-Man shrunk beside you, more intimidated by the threat directed towards you than you do.
"Is that a threat, boss?"
"No cariño, it's a promise."
Leaping down to greet the quarantine squad, he left the two of you on the rooftops. President Spidey turned to you, worried to the nines for your soul.
"D-do you need to universe hop? You're free to hide at mine, since it's my fault you're gonna get grinded later."
You laughed, slapping him in the back to which he wheezed at. "Don't worry, he won't bite."
•=•=•=•=•=•
Despite your shit attempt of comforting President Spider-Man, he didn't leave your side, ready to jump in front of you if Miguel happens to snap in the middle of the journey back to HQ. Hobie however, attempted to pry him off of your side with an amused smile.
“Have you realized how fucked you are?”
President Spidey hushed him, to which the man raised an eyebrow at. “Don’t say that.”
When you all entered the office, Miguel halted and you all followed. There’s a buzz in the back of your head and a glance at the nervous wreck beside you tells you that he felt it too.
"Everyone except my wife, leave."
President Spidey almost spoke up, probably to request to stay next to you until Hobie swung his arms around his neck and pulled him out, but not before saluting to you.
"I'll burn the ministry in your honor."
His voice echoed in the dimly lit room until the hatch closed shut, isolating you and your husband from the outside world until further notice. You watch as a yellow holographic lady materializes over his shoulder, Layla whose gaze immediately met yours.
"Layla, make sure no one tries to enter my office until I say so. Go hang out with Spiderbyte in the meantime."
"Don't break the poor girl, she didn't do—"
"I don't want to hear it. Leave."
Sparing you a pitiful smile, she dispersed into the air. With no hatch to escape to, nor any obstacles to run behind, you were left standing a few footsteps away from the man.
"I thought we had an agreement to keep ourselves safe during missions?"
There was a simmering anger hidden behind his words, tone almost dark and bitten back.
"I was safe, you just need to place a little faith on—"
"The last time I did that, the people I cared about died."
You wanted to defend yourself, bring up being safer since you're Spider-Man and all that but you knew it wouldn't end well. Seeing the seething anger radiating off of him, that's the best course of action.
Hanging your head down with a sigh. "Alright, I'm sorry."
"Sorry's not gonna cut it this time, cariño. I think I have to drill it into you."
Your brain clicks, realizing what he said and you frown. "Fucking is not gonna help us right now, Miguel!"
"Well I don't see you complaining every time it happens, do I? If I recall, you've begged, cried and screamed my name again and—"
Your hand moved faster than your brain as you slapped the man. You gasped, bringing both hands up to your mouth as you watched him go silent.
"I-I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—"
"No no no, I see how it is."
You waited for his next move with bated breath, goosebumps prickling your skin. You debated on taking a few steps back but before you could, he surged with his hands grabbing your neck and slamming you on the wall, stealing the breath from your lungs and you gasped.
“You know the words, mi vida?”
You curled your eyebrows at him. Does he mean your safeword?
“F-fucking get your hands off of me, let's talk."
The light slap on your cheeks shocked you, mouth falling ajar at the action. You couldn’t deny the fact that the sting left by his hand has stirred your desires awake, nor can you even dare to mention how breathless—figuratively and literally—he left you.
Miguel observed your eyes, cautious of any hurt flashing in them before putting more pressure on the side of your throat and you greedily inhaled more air as much as you could. Dark spots crawl from the side of your vision and fear starts to claw at your heart.
Yet the uncomfortable slickness and ache between your thighs says otherwise.
"Your words."
"I'm not using them!"
The grin curling his lips sent shivers down your spine, doom looming over you.
"Good."
Before you could say anything, he released your throat and you fell to the floor, inhaling greedily for air as your vision slowly repairs itself.
"I've been wanting to tame that mouth of yours since earlier."
You coughed, peering up at him through your eyelashes. "R-really? I thought you liked that about me?"
"Oh really? I thought I said I only liked your mouth, not your voice."
Grabbing your jaw, he forced you to look up before pushing two of his fingers through your lips, pressing down on your tongue as his suit disintegrated to reveal his formal clothes. Miguel's hand threads through your hair, caressing the back of your head before tugging. With a wicked grin, he continued.
"Strip."
It was a command, not a request. The low timbre of his voice sends jolts of pleasure down your spine. Following his heeds like a hypnotized woman, you made quick work of your clothes, tossing them to the side and unshackling your web shooters.
Reaching up, you unbuttoned his pants and took care of his fly before shrugging the clothing down his thighs. The tent in his boxers sent shivers down your spine, a promise of pleasure behind its confines.
Pulling it down, his girth revealed itself to you and your tongue grew heavy inside your mouth, a few dribbles of pre-cum on the tip and the prominent veins giving it an illusion of being larger than it already is. Miguel pulled you closer making you kiss the base of his dick.
"What a sinful face you have, cariño. I'm starting to like this more."
He guided his length to your mouth, smearing his clear arousal on the plush of your lips making you open up only for his hand to come down harshly against your cheeks once more.
The sharp sting immediately melts into hot arousal pooling down your thighs.
"Do you really think you deserve me, mi cielo? After speaking back to me earlier?"
"I want it, please?"
He scoffed. "'Want' it? Do you think you own me? That's funny."
His webs embraced you and he pulled, making you stumble to the floor with a yelp. Being bound tightly by Miguel who towered over you with sadistic glee and glowering eyes, made you feel small all over.
Yet the sick bastard at the back of your head smiled an ugly grin.
"How about we try it again? Maybe if you ask nicely, I'll give you what you wanted."
He pulled you back to a standing position, his hand immediately locking onto your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his dilated and darkened red pairs that seemed to tempt you to drown yourself in them.
Your eyes fell to the hand pumping himself leisurely and groaned.
"Please? Darling, I want to taste you."
"Do you deserve it?"
"I'm more of an action type of person than a talker."
He said nothing, watching as you fall back to your knees before tapping the head of his cock onto your lips. Once your mouth opened, his hand on your jaw crawled to the back of your head and pushed.
The sudden and wide intrusion down your throat got you gagging yet Miguel only found pleasure from the throb of your muscles constricting around him.
You remind yourself to breathe through your nose, trying to force yourself through it but your throat complains and you knew you couldn't take it. Slapping his thighs thrice, he pulled away immediately, clicking his tongue while you coughed and gasped for air.
"Bold talk. I knew your mouth wasn't fit for speaking at all. Such a shame it can't do anything at all."
Still focused on the throb in your throat, you weren't able to react fast enough when he pulled you flush to his chest by the web and carried you to the platform where a cushioned chair awaits.
He sat and you ended up on his lap with both his calloused hands grounding you by the shoulder and hips. Miguel's burning eyes roamed the expanse of your chest, one hand rising to trace his gaze with his fingertips and pinching the stiffened peaks of your mounds making you moan from the slightest touch.
"Maybe your pussy could do a better job."
The hand soon crept around your neck with his eyes where it pressed against its sides once more.
It was maddening how you could feel his hardness pressing against your folds yet unable to do much about it. The firm hand on your hips prevents you from grinding down on him. He does reach down to your clit, palming your engorged bead but before you could revel in it, he pulled away.
"Did those slaps get you this wet baby? Didn't know you're such a slut."
Your cheeks lights up and you slapped his cheek lightly for the name he called you, only for Miguel to return it harder.
"You don't get to slap me, slut. The only thing you're for is this pussy."
A wet slap resonated in the room and you cried, thighs closing from the impact on your heat, embarrassment burning your body before shame crawled up your throat as you realized his demeaning behavior seems to only goad you further.
He didn't give you a chance to prepare when he pushed his cockhead into you. Tears brimmed in your eyes as the burn of the stretch stung your veins and stirred your desire further. Every inch inserted tore you apart, the sensation a mixture of heaven and hell, it was delicious as it was painful.
Seeing the struggle in your face, Miguel reached down to roll your clit in slow circles, whispering affirmations into your ears. The moment he sensed your accommodation to his girth did he pull out till his head remained, angling his hips before inserting himself back again to hit the spongy spot on your walls.
You whimpered and moaned in his shoulder as his pace grew with a manic fervor. The pain slowly transitioned into pleasure with the frequency of his thrusts, your nails dug into his shoulder as he pushed himself deeper and deeper into you, narrowly missing your uterus as he pistoned into you.
Mind whirled in ecstasy and lightness brought by his fingers on your throat, you only grabbed onto him for dear life as he quickly dragged you to the edge.
Feeling the familiar pulse and tightness of your walls around him, Miguel suddenly pulled away and you cried.
"Why did you pull away?"
His hand came down with a loud crack! as it collides with the globes of your ass in quick successions. Your hips twists as you clenched desperately on air. Desire clawed at your throat and you whimpered, body already missing the rush of pleasure he brought with every push.
“Do you think you deserve it, mi vida?”
You nodded and he chuckled darkly. “I don’t think you do.”
Despite his words, Miguel entered you once more, picking up his previous pace. Your previous orgasms arose, walls clamping down onto him, desperate for the release you craved so deeply. There's a wet sound echoing in the room along and you flushed deeper yet far too desperate for euphoria to care.
His deft fingers found your clit with experienced accuracy and slapped it with every thrust of his hips.
You shouldn't be enjoying every bit of pain yet here you were, moaning and wriggling your hips for more stimulation like a mad woman.
"My cariño's such a slut taking all of this pain like the whore she is. Bet you liked that spider guy huh? Jumping off like a fool to save a dick, so pathetic."
Miguel pulled away and you cried, the itch of dissatisfaction searing through your body. You clawed at his back as if the pain could threaten him, in response, Miguel swats your rear once more.
"A little slut like you doesn't deserve to cum. After that stupid stunt earlier? Do you think you deserve to come?"
"Yes yes yes."
He slapped you across the face but you could care less, whining.
"Stop being a dick and give it to me, please!"
Clicking his tongue. "Such a desperate slut, I'd slap you for that, but I'm feeling a bit generous."
It was his fingers that attacked you this time, deftly rubbing your clit. Your hips stuttered up to follow his hand.
“Might as well count how many, right?”
Your mind grows lighter as time bleeds against each other. His objections to your orgasms grew frequent as the intervals between your nirvana grew shorter, you have lost count of how many he has denied you and has long stopped doing so, body now laid motionlessly on top of his as you sobbed onto his shoulder from frustration.
Miguel didn't care, in fact, he reveled in your misery every time.
His hips pistoned faster, tip almost always nudging your spot with every thrust as his lips caught yours in a weakened dance, there was a shift in the air and you knew he had finally relented on dragging it out.
"Come for me, darling. I want it all, give it to me."
The pleasure that bursted in your veins wasn't like the others from before. The ecstasy woke every nerve ending in your body alight, limbs growing weightless from the shock of pleasure from your orgasm as electric shocks reverberated from your core and to the tip of your fingers.
Your thighs convulsed violently and you screamed, arousal squirting to drench his stomach. Miguel's arms curled around you protectively as you shivered, whispering hushed affirmations in your ears while the impact of a long-denied orgasm shattered you.
"You did so well for me, mi vida. I’m here, no more of that."
Miguel soaked in your every moans and sobs as he murmured something you couldn't catch, mind far too foggy to process.
You didn't even realize that he didn't came, focused solely on comforting you through your high.
His racing heartbeat matched the pace of the throb in your head, you could hear your breathing echo in your ears yet in the state of exhaustion, you found it calming, melodic even. Miguel’s fingers that gave and tore your pleasure away now caressed the back of your head, gently as if you’ll break apart.
You could make out his chapped lips pressing kisses onto your temple as exhaustion won over your body, eyes falling shut with the melodic rhythm of his heartbeat lulled you to sleep.
#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara imagine#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x reader one shot#marvel fics#marvel smut#spiderman smut#spider man smut#spider man fics
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EVERYTHING IS FINE- Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader
this is it. angsty asf. bittersweet ending it’s sad people. tw: infidelity. based on my most recent post. please comment i’m literally begging you and tell me how you like it<3
In the depths of your heart, you already know. Your Miguel is not yours anymore.
You remember the stolen glances between him and Dana where you pretended not to notice the palpable tension between the three of you amidst the throng of about ten other people in the house.
It was a nice dinner that you’d planned, after spending almost a week away because of your actual job as well as your little side gig that was being a part of spider society.
But fifteen minutes into the little shin-dig and you get a call from none other than your boss. Not the nice one who showed you the ropes when you first joined and provided you with hours of mentorship. The bitch that was a variant of your husband was currently floating above your watch as you glared at him in the bathroom.
“We need you.”
“Not today.”
“It’s an emergency.”
“It’s always an emergency.” you roll your eyes.
“Look this was unplanned, you think my life’s aim is to torment you?”
“Kind of.” you nod and he groans, “Give me twenty minutes.”
——
At the end of twenty minutes, you storm out of your house as quietly as you can, yes it’s an oxymoron but you’re pissed off.
At Miguel, at your husband, at yourself.
Your mother always said that you were one to pity yourself, even when every bad thing that happened was the result of your own actions. All your life you’ve disagreed, but now you think that maybe your mother was probably right.
None of this would have happened if you’d just said no. No to Dana making her way into your marriage to her guy best friend and co-worker.No to the variant of him with fangs and red eyes and No to your own urge of fucking things up because you wanted to see what happened. If maybe what your heart felt was wrong. That there was nothing wrong with you and Miguel, that he still loved you.
You let out a shaky breath and open a portal from an alleyway behind your apartment building. The purple hue reflects onto your face. No, you weren’t a spider. Just a traveller that stumped your boss and changed his perception of everything he knew about the multiverse.
The man himself nodded at you as you stepped onto the platform he was standing on, looking back to the holo of what looked like a rogue Doc Ock, Goblin and another Spiderman.
“What, now we have evil spidermen? Isn’t that breaking the canon?” you raise an eyebrow.
“That’s the thing. There’s no canon event broken. He was meant to be a villain. Yet, I’ve never heard of him, or of this universe.”
You look at him like he’s just told you that he used to be a stripper in college and all his money came from his side-gig, “I’m sorry, what? The all powerful Miguel O’Hara with the pixel suit doesn’t know of the existence of a universe?”
“You’re being real helpful right now.” he grumbles.
“Thank you, I knew you’d appreciate the help.”
——
The house is quiet when you walk in, evidently everyone has left. The kitchen has been cleaned and the lights are off.
He’d always been your biggest supporter. Always so humble even though he had a high position and a fat paycheck, always telling you to let him help you. Doing some of your work for you when you were busy.
The bedroom door creaked a little as you enter, the sound of your loves breathing makes you crack a small smile. His hulking figure curled up and moving up and down. His face slack.
God he was so beautiful.
You shed your clothes and go through your night routine as fast as you can. Brushing your teeth and scrubbing your face. Cursing the pimples that always make their way onto your forehead at the wrong time.
The mattress squeaks as you get on, slowly wrapping your hands around his body. He stirs and looks up at you, his eyes softening. He’d been drinking, you can tell. He hasn’t looked at you like this for a while.
“Hi.” his hands cup your face and you smile softly as you kiss his rough palm. Your own covering his.
“Sorry I disturbed you. Thank you for cleaning up.” your hands mirror his actions, thumbs caressing his cheekbones.
He answers you with a soft kiss. And then another. And his hands are travelling down to pull you to him. Engulfing you as he hides his face in the crook of your neck. Your hands move to play with his hair as he drifted back to sleep.
You close your eyes and pretend that everything is fine. That the lipstick stain on his shirt in the laundry basket wasn’t the same as Dana’s.
———
“Are you fucking dumb?” O’Hara seethes, as he disinfects the gash at the bottom of your neck.
“It’s just a graze, i’m fine.” you grumble, “it’s not like anyone’s gonna care if i die.”
“No, just shut your mouth. Stop talking like you’re some martyr. There are plenty of people here who would miss you.”
“Miguel, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.” you chuckle, “i get it-
“No, you don’t. actually, you don’t get it. the woman i loved died, and she’s gone and i’d do anything to have her back, and you’re so convinced that if you died your own fucking husband wouldn’t want to die too? Stop acting like you’re expendable.” his eyes glow and yours widen, “This may come as a surprise to you, but people care.”
You gulp, “Sorry.”
He grumbles under his breath as he sprays the wound with bacta so it heals faster. Apologising when you wince.
You look at his concentrated face that is focused on wrapping the bandage around your shoulder and the bottom of your neck. His face is mere inches from yours. He is the splitting image of your husband, save from the red eyes and fangs. But this close you can see the differences, his eyebrows are a tad thicker and his ears are smaller.
He is harder and his words are sharp. Your love is soft and quiet. Mean when he has to be, but kinder. More open.
More loving. Yes. He’s more loving and he loves you.
You look away and focus on the ceiling. You don’t see his eyes watching your face. Eyes filled with sadness and want.
——
“Dana, here. Have some tea.” you pour a cup for the woman sitting next to Miguel at the table. At your spot.
Is it toxic to think that maybe you want her to choke on her tea?
She’d started to carpool with Miguel a few months ago , seeing as they worked together and were on the same team, it was more efficient and made more sense.
You didn’t want to seem like a toxic wife so you nodded and agreed, because you were secure in your relationship with your husband.
“Thank you.” she says your name with a wide smile as she sips the tea, “Amazing, as always.”
“I know right, she makes amazing tea.” he smiles at her and raises an eyebrow. Dana snorts.
You look between the pair trying to hide their smiles, “Did I miss something?” an awkward smile makes its way onto your face.
“Inside joke, you wouldn’t get it. It’s a scientist thing. I don’t think your writer brain could handle it.” Dana waves you away as if you’re a fucking waiter and you bristle.
But what drives it home is that Miguel laughs out loud when she says that. His hair flops onto his forehead and Dana fixes it for him, her hands running through this hair.
You fight the urge to break a plate on her head but you know it’ll be fruitless. Because your husband will take her side.
Maybe you’re just being dramatic. Maybe the tears you’re trying to hide as you make breakfast are unwarranted and you can’t take a joke.
Everything is fine.
You call out to them from the kitchen, telling them you’re going to be late and his voice is brighter when he says, “Okay, honey.”
—————
“You okay?”
“I’m fine, boss.”
“You look dead.”
“Your eyes bags suggest the same.”
“You’re hilarious.” O’Hara smirks
“Thank you.” you take a sip of the beer he’d passed.
It was late, far past dinner time. And the both of you had taken time to go over the record of what anomalies were most common and key weaknesses in most villains.
“But seriously, are you okay?”
You gulp, “Tell me about your wife. Please.”
He blanches, and then looks at the tears welling up in your eyes.
“Well, where to begin?” he turns to face you, “She…was a writer, she had her own business. She loved sunflowers because they faced each other when the sun wasn’t in the sky.” he smiles sadly, “she was terrified of frogs and dead fish. And she hated onions. The pickiest fucking eater.” he shakes his head and chuckles.
“She sounds sweet.” you know she was variant of you, Miguel had shown you the web of life and in every universe there was version of you that made their way into his life. It was beautiful, honestly.
“She had short hair, and her smile. God, it could make anyone’s day better.” he rested his head on his hand and looked at the hologram shining in front of the both of you.
“She sounds like a dream.” you reply.
“She was.” he nods.
“Hey would you mind bringing up a live of my house?” you ask.
“Why?”
“Humour me, will you?”
He grumbles and a hologram showing your universe pops up, on the screen is your living room. And Miguel freezes when he sees the scene before him.
He sees himself kiss Dana. The version of him who is married, is kissing his co-worker. He’s taking her in his arms and nuzzling her nose. He’s pecking her cheeks and tickling her like she’s his wife.
Like he’s in love with her.
“I love you.” his voice echoes throughout the room. And Dana says it back.
His head whips to look at you. You don’t look surprised, rather, you look defeated. You breathe out like it’s a finality. Your beautiful beautiful eyes transfixed on offending scene in front of you.
Before anything else happens, he shuts it off. Immediately turning to look at your frozen form, “Hey, you with me?”
You shake your head and smile. Eyes still fixed onto where the hologram was, “I’m fine.” Tears fall down your cheeks as your mouth quivers, “I’m okay. Everyday he comes back around this time. And they carpool. I told him I’d be late today. Just after I made them tea and they laughed at an inside joke amongst themselves.”
His eyes widens, “Oh honey.” his moves to hug you and you let out an ugly sob, “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
“I knew it.” you say into his chest, “I’m so fucking stupid.”
His hand pats your back, “You’re not stupid.”
“I mean, I know i was busy, i know i wasnt always home. But I tried, i fucking tried. WHAT IS SO WRONG WITB ME?” the dam breaks and you let out a wrecked shout of agony that breaks his heart into two, “Why wasn’t I good enough?!” your body shakes violently.
“No.” he says firmly, taking your face in his hands, almost squeezing your cheeks and forcing you to looking at him, your hands fly to cover his, “ You are good enough. You are enough. Listen to me. That fucking idiot doesn’t know who he just lost.”
“But-But if i wasnt so busy-
“If he had a problem, he should’ve told you. He’s a fucking pussy.”
Your words are silenced when he shakes you once, hands still holding your cheeks, “You are the most perfect person. And the both of them will pay. I promise that, cariño.”
His arms wrap around you to engulf you as you hide your face in the crook of his neck, rapid breaths slowing. His pulse beats and you can feel the vibrations on your own skin.
You close your eyes and pretend everything is fine. Because you’re in his arms.
#miguel o’hara#miguel o’hara angst#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel x reader#atsv miguel#miguel x you
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lilac - chapter 2
miguel o’hara x f!reader
summary: a pre-work visit to the bank goes horribly wrong.
wc: 4.7k
tags/warnings: unhappy relationship, gun violence, bank robbery, blood, scars, stripping, pole dancing, sexual fantasy, semi-public sex, praise
author’s note: yeah he got me fucked up
They called him Spiderman.
He appeared seemingly from thin air overnight - specifically, the night you’d stayed late at the school to watch Gabriella O’Hara until her father could pick her up. They were hailing him a vigilante, a hero, an aggressor. No one could quite seem to agree on just what he was other than supernatural. Like the multiple self-titled supervillains who had taken over your city without someone to stop them, he possessed abilities no regular human was capable of. Shooting webs from his wrists, climbing walls, moving and propelling himself at unimaginable speeds. He was something unimaginable.
People theorized, over the week since his city-wide premier on shaky cellphone footage and breaking news coverings that interrupted regular shows, that he had escaped from a cage in Alchemax. How else could they explain his powers? They couldn’t. Others said he was an alien. Some said he was a fake, said that the clips that captured him beating the absolute shit out of car thieves and back alley thugs and would-be kidnappers, were all photoshopped with a fancy computer and an advanced program.
Either way, no matter where he’d come from or what he was, whether he was a do-gooder or another villain searching for glory, no one could deny that what he did was incredible.
It was too bad some people were out to get him despite what he was doing for your city.
“He’s a menace!” shouted the anchor of the news show playing in the bank’s lobby. J. Jonah Jameson’s voice brought a migraine to the front of your head, one that wouldn’t go away with just simple ibuprofen. You tried to block him out as you waited in line for a teller, attempting to focus instead on the story your boyfriend was barking in your ear on your phone. Your attempt was unsuccessful. “He’s just another villain trying to have his five minutes of glory in the sun. He’ll burn out just like all the others; Doc Ock, Kraven, the Vulture… Please, people! Wake up and take a deep breath of reality! He’s not helping the citizens of New York - he’s getting in the way of our police!” He fixed the camera with a hard, stony stare that made you look away when you saw one of his eyes twitch. What in fuck did that dude put in his cereal every morning? “Spiderman is just another villain. Give him another week, and see where he ends up.”
You felt your lips tug down as you turned away from the television and moved up in line. What a sad, pathetic city you lived in, where someone attempted to use whatever powers they had to do good and got blasted for it instead of praise. God knew New York needed all the help it could get. With the highest crime rate in the country, who would turn their nose up at what little help was offered to them?
Dickwipes, that was who.
“Hello?” shouted the voice on the other end of the phone you held up to your face. You jumped slightly and pulled it from your ear, earning yourself a few strange looks from the other people in line. “Are you even listening to me?”
“Sorry, babe,” you exhaled into the speaker. Blocking out the television and the rest of the distractions in the bank, you upped the volume on your phone. “Just kind of busy at the moment. I’m in line at the bank, and then I’ve got to catch a taxi in this fucking traffic and haul ass to work before class starts, and -”
From his end, Ferris released one of those breathy sighs that he did when he wanted you to stop speaking so that he could talk what was on his mind. You knew the sound well - well enough to shut your mouth and swallow thick. “Could’ve just said it was a bad time,” he grunted, then made the noises of switching his phone to his other ear. You recognized the sounds of his deft fingers fiddling with his guitar strings. God, it seemed like he never put that fucking thing down. A part of you suspected that if your apartment was on fire, he would run to save his instrument before you. “Listen, I’ve got practice here in a while. I’ll let you get back to whatever’s so important.”
Ignoring the pang that resounded like a thunderclap through your ribcage, you nodded your head despite knowing he couldn’t see you. “Uhm, okay.” You hesitated, then added, “Oh, before you go to practice -” you heard him sniff - “could you put away the dishes in the sink? I started the cycle this morning before I left, so it should be -”
“Yeah,” he said quickly. “Bye.”
“Oh, okay, bye. Lo-” Before you could finish, you heard the familiar click of the other line being hung up. You stood still for a moment, feeling a little numb at your fingers, before slowly pulling your phone from your face and pressing that bright red button to hang up your end. Trying to keep your expression neutral, you stepped forward in line as it moved.
Maybe once upon a time, you and Ferris had been happy together. Maybe… satisfied was the right word. Settled. There to fill the void when you needed someone. Saying ‘I love you’ was never a column to lean upon in your relationship; it was only mumbled under breaths during sex and rare moments when both of you were in the mood to not be so completely alone. But that wasn’t often. He was too busy with his band, spending whatever money from his gigs that he received at whatever bars he trolled when he claimed he was cleaning up after shows. You were too busy teaching your kids during the day and teasing and smiling desperate souls at night, putting lousy paychecks and crumpled tips toward keeping your rent paid and food in the pantry.
The girls at The Menagerie asked you why you didn’t leave him, kick him out of your apartment and change the locks. You couldn’t ever come up with a good reason. Maybe it was because if you did, six months of your life would be down the drain. Maybe it was because if you did, you’d be more alone than you ever had in your life.
You didn’t have anyone besides Ferris. Your parents, shit - they were a lost cause. The girls at the club all had separate lives. And your kids at the school - you had to let them go every afternoon, walk out that door without a glance back.
If you let Ferris go, you would have no one.
Stuffing your phone back into your purse, you held your head high, refusing to let anyone else here see just how deep the cracks in your foundations were. At last, you were called up to the next available teller.
Your heels clicked and clacked along the polished tile floor, the bright yellow dress that you’d bought for yourself for a school spirit day swishing about your ankles. You felt like a sore thumb in this dull, brown-and-white building that was just aching to be updated. Old, vintage chandeliers hung from the high-arched ceilings, illuminating the golden bars the tellers sat behind. Benches with creaky leather occupied the center of the lobby, accented by matching chairs and little desks that bankers in starched collars met with clients at. It was all black and white, neutrals and dark tones.
Greeting the teller behind the gate with as bright a smile as you could muster, you opened your mouth to say hello. Yet just when you began to push the syllables past your lips, your world shattered like porcelain meeting concrete.
Sunlight like a torch in a dark tunnel flooded the bank as a small line of figures crowded into the bank. At first, no one paid them any mind. Then shots like the deafening cracks of fireworks right beside your ear sounded from sleek black rifles into the ceiling, and screams filled the echoey chambers of the building. You immediately dropped and covered your head, breath leaving your lungs like the air had been slammed from your chest by a sledgehammer. People cowered behind the cushions and desks, scrambling for cover as another round went through the roof.
“Everyone put your hands on your heads and take a seat on the ground,” came a booming voice from the figure at the head of the group. There were four of them, a small team who wore identical kabuki masks and black tactical gear fit to be seen on military personnel. “This is a robbery. Not a killing spree, not a kidnapping - a robbery. We ain’t looking to hurt anyone today, unless someone tries to be a hero. No sudden moves. You all follow directions, and you’ll be home in time for lunch.”
Unable to pull in a new breath, you slid to the ground and placed your hands on top of your head. You watched, eyes wide and fingers trembling slightly as the men began to make their rounds to the tellers, plopping wide, fat bags on the counters and demanding money from beneath the desks be placed inside. One took up a stance just beside you, forcefully shoving his bag to the man behind the bars and commanding him to pull out the stacked bills. The teller at once complied, dropping thousands of dollars as sweat began to bead at his temples.
Holy goddamn fucking shit. Holy fuck. You knew this city was dangerous - hell, you’d sit back night after night at home and watch on the news as cars were jacked and people were taken hostage. You’d just never thought it would happen to you; of all the millions of people in this city, you’d never thought it would be you. And yet here you were, hunkered down against a countertop as your bank was robbed with you at the throbbing heart of it all.
And you were all alone.
The man in the mask beside you took a glance down when your trembling brushed up against his leg, his head tilting slightly in a demented way that made his mask look haunted. You were suddenly reminded of your own mask that you wore for work, of the ones the other girls wore, and you were struck with the realization that, perhaps, you and he were not so different. You both wore masks to hide your faces, holding out your hands and moving to a particular kind of dance in order to snatch money right out of pockets without batting a damn eye.
Then again, when you danced, you didn’t hold an automatic rifle strapped to your shoulder.
“Give it to me,” said the man above you. You were barely able to understand his words through his mask.
Your heart skipped yet another few beats as you tried to register what he was saying. Give it to him? Give him what? “What?” you managed to say over the lead in your throat.
He nodded his head to the space beside you, and you whipped around. Your purse lay on its side next to your thigh. He wanted your purse; your wallet. Your money. Everything you had - which still wasn’t much. But you couldn’t give it up.
You looked back up at him while he switched his gaze between you and the teller, who was still busy filling the bag with cash. “No,” you said, and when he snapped his gaze to yours, you added, “please. I don’t have much, I don’t have anything compared to this place.”
The man in the mask turned away from the teller to grip his rifle tighter, tilting it slightly so that it was level with your leg curled up against your chest. “I’m not going to ask again, lady.”
Just as your hand began to scrabble for the purse laying beside you, knocking around a few papers and loose change that had fallen out, the man was struck in the face with a mass of white substance that clung to his mask. He cried out and dropped his rifle, hands flying up in an attempt to pull the stuff from his eye holes. You watched, frozen in place, as another masked man across the lobby was stuck to a countertop by his hand with another mass that appeared from seemingly nowhere.
Before anyone else could react, a dark, sinewy figure dropped from the arched ceilings overhead and kneeled on the tile just a few feet from where you huddled. When they stood up straight, your breath hitched in your throat. It was a man, donned head to toe in a blue and red suit that popped with color here in this bleak interior - like your yellow dress. His face was covered with a mask, the only indication of an expression beneath that surface retractable eye lenses that narrowed as he took a glance around the ceiling.
Spiderman exhaled a nearly inaudible huff. “Some things never change.”
From that moment, the bank was painted into a picture of chaos. The masked vigilante expelled a pair of webs from his wrist to slingshot himself across the lobby, landing a jaw-cracking blow to one of the robbers who tried to raise his rifle. The fourth, the last one still able to move, cracked off a number of shots that sent people scrambling and wailing out. The blue and red suit shot off tiny sparks as lead collided with its bulletproof material, nothing but pebbles against a mountain.
Spiderman huffed again, a breathy little chuckle this time. “Cute.”
In the next second, that fourth gunman was sent flying into a marble wall, sliding down onto his face to reveal the large crack his spine had put in its surface. The last two men were taken down quicker than you could have blinked. The second, his hand still stuck to the countertop, didn’t stand much of a chance when webs ripped his own rifle from his grasp and struck him across the forehead with a sickening crack. And the man who had demanded your purse - he’d only just gotten the white mass of sticky stuff off his mask before the vigilante slung across the room, grabbed him by his vest, and raised a gloved hand capped with three-inch long claws. “It’s impolite to threaten pretty ladies,” he growled in a voice that, for some reason, despite the situation, made your stomach churn a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. He swung the robber toward you where you sat on the ground, that clawed hand gripping his jaw to force him to keep your eyes. “Apologize - like a gentleman. And maybe I’ll think about letting you keep your trigger finger in one piece.”
By now, with the gunmen either unconscious or being held against their will, almost everyone else in the bank had gotten to their feet and bolted out the front doors. In the distance, sirens wailed and tires screeched. And yet you remained where you were, staring up at Spiderman as he tightened his grip on the man’s jaw. His claws drew tiny dots of blood along his skin. “We’re waiting,” he said in a breathy murmur.
The gunman inhaled a high-pitched, shaky breath and turned his eyes to you from behind his mask. “M’sorry,” he stuttered over his own terror.
The vigilante leaned closer, his eye lenses narrowing. “Sorry for what?”
“M’sorry for threatening you,” came the pathetic cry in response that almost made you pity him. Almost. “It - it won’t happen again, I swear.”
For a short moment, the two men stared at you. One was praying that you accepted the apology, prayed you were going to call off your savior in spandex. The other was waiting for your decision, waiting to see if you accepted such a sorry excuse for a ‘sorry.’ Swallowing the large lump in your throat, you wordlessly bobbed your head in a nod.
Spiderman hummed and turned his head so that his mouth would be close to the robber’s ear. “Seems the lady’s feeling generous today. Consider yourself lucky.”
He spun the man around with those claws of his, and the robber’s gloved hand reached out in a blind panic and grabbed onto the vigilante’s suit just where his neck met his broad shoulders. He dragged the spandex down accidentally as his head was slammed against the marble countertops, giving you perhaps a one second-long glimpse of dark, tan skin and a small scar across his collarbone. Then the man’s grip relaxed as he dropped to the floor and he released the material of the suit, allowing it to snap back into place.
You jumped slightly as the would-be robber collapsed in a heap of limbs and tactical gear beside you, your dress riding up on your thighs slightly from how you sat with your knees huddled to your chest. Before you could think to do much else in this mind-boggling moment, Spiderman was standing before you and offering a hand to help you to your feet. His claws had shrunk back into his glove - or, perhaps his own nails - and his upturned palm suddenly looked oh so inviting. It floored you in the most alluring, gut-clenching way how those very hands had just brought four men within an inch of their life, and yet now they were softer than empty promises just for you.
“You alright?” he asked as you took his hand and stood. “Sorry you had to get caught up in all this.”
He talked to you in such a casual way, like the pair of you had met before, that you could do nothing but stare and clutch your hands to your stomach as he scooped up the fallen items from your purse, dropped them back in, and handed your bag to you. Numbly, you accepted it.
“You’re safe to walk outside now,” he assured, towering over you like a damn stone column. Fuck, his voice was sexy. Low and tipped with a rolling accent. You wondered, in that moment, why it sounded so familiar. “The police should be arriving any time. They’ll just ask you a few questions and send you on your way.” As if he understood that you were frozen in place, he touched your back, turned you around, and urged you toward the front doors that were now flooded with red and blue lights from the squad cars outside. “Take care of yourself, alright?”
You had just barely mumbled a barely-audible ‘okay’ before he was gently guiding you out the doors, and then suddenly you were alone, facing down three dozen cops and a truckload of SWAT soldiers.
They asked you exactly what happened in that bank. They asked what you were doing there, what time the incident occurred, who in the hell could single handedly take down four aggressors with automatic rifles and bulletproof vests? They knew the answer, and so did you. But you told them anyway.
“It was Spiderman.”
And no matter how fucking hard you tried, how much you urged yourself to forget about them and focus on the here and now, you were unable to get that masked vigilante out of your head. You thought about him on the rest of the way to the school, because god knew there were far too few teachers in this city and you couldn’t have gotten a substitute even if you tried. You thought about him while your coworkers, the other teachers, all gathered around you in the breakroom and demanded answers and stories from your little incident that morning. You thought about him while you planned out your day with numb fingers and toes, and while you stood out front and welcomed kids in, and even when Miguel O’Hara appeared to drop off Gabriella safely at your side.
It took a few words out of his mouth, past those gorgeous full lips of his, a quirk of one of those thick brows, to finally bring you out of your stupor. “I’m sorry?” you said when you realized he had asked you a question. You felt your cheeks warm and your palms become sweaty as you begged his pardon.
To your relief, Miguel only smiled slightly and placed a hand on his jutted hip like he did. God, why did he have to do that? Draw attention to the perfect ratio of his body, a beautiful slope from his wide shoulders to his trimmed waist? “Just asking if you were alright,” he repeated himself, and you could have sworn his eyes flitted over you while he spoke. “Heard you were caught up in that robbery down on Fifth.”
“Oh… right.” You cleared your throat and watched as Gabriella spotted a few friends and dashed into the school to meet them, her backpack wagging behind her. “Yeah, I’m alright. Now that it’s over, I realize it didn’t even last that long. Maybe five minutes or so before… before Spiderman showed up.”
“Yeah?” He reached up his other hand to scratch at the underside of his chin, where the delicate skin of his throat was. Your eyes followed his movements like they were a magnet and you had no choice but to watch. Even if you did have a choice, you would have watched, anyway.
You nodded your head once, clasping your clipboard with your kids’ names on it to your thighs over your dress. A breeze blew over Washington Elementary, letting the yellow fabric dance and blow up to your knees. They were scuffed from kneeling on the hard tile floor this morning. “Mmm-hmm. He’s… not like I imagined him,” you admitted, then realized just what you were doing; talking to Miguel O’Hara, the main star in every single one of your late-night fantasies, about the man who had quite literally swooped in and saved your ass. “But, anyhow… No one got hurt. That’s what matters.”
The corners of Miguel’s lips quirked upward ever so slightly, showing off a tiny flash of his white teeth. It then occurred to you that you’d never seen him smile fully - only with a closed mouth. “Well,” he said, and lifted his hand an inch or two, almost like he was going to touch your arm, then stopped himself and lowered it back down. “I’m glad you’re safe.” There came a fraction of a second of tense, charged silence between the pair of you before he added, “Don’t know what we would do if something happened to Bri’s favorite teacher.”
Bri - you’d never heard him call her that before. It was always a full ‘Gabriella.’
Behind you, in the school, the bell rang, signaling the final five minutes before class started. You glanced over your shoulder, feeling your heart sink slightly at the realization that you would have to leave the conversation. “I’d better -” You allowed your sentence to fall away as a number of squad cars came rounding the corner across from the school, sirens wailing and tires squealing on the tarmac. Other vehicles on the road pulled over to let them pass as they blew through a red light; whatever was happening, it must have been serious. But wasn’t it always.
“Heh,” you chuckled gently as you began to turn back to Miguel. “Always something happening, ri-”
He was gone. Vanished, seemingly, into nothingness. No car to watch pull out of the lot, because he walked his daughter to school, and no trace of his hulking, towering form down the sidewalk outside the wrought iron gates that surrounded the building. He’d completely and totally disappeared.
Damn, you thought as you blinked a few times, gripping your clipboard, and entered the school. What an enigma he was.
That night at work, as you spun yourself around and around on the pole center stage in various twisted shapes and contortments, you found yourself divulging in yet another one of your little fantasies. You shut your eyes as you tensed your leg and gripped the pole to send yourself around in a tight, flashing circle that made the train - that your boss had specifically instructed you to wear while you were in the spotlight - flutter and whip like golden water pulled across a current.
You pictured Miguel seated in the leather chair closest to the stage, his chin propped on his forearms where they rested across the edge of your runway. You imagined the neon lights playing tricks and dirty, filthy, irresistable illusions in the gleam of his eyes, following your movements around and around because no matter how many times you did the same cheap trick, he would still watch it as if it were his first time seeing it. You thought of kneeling down in front of him even though it was against the rules to get too friendly with customers if they weren’t going to pay to see you up close, and of gently taking the point of his chin in between your fingers so that he was tilting his head up to look at you.
Fuck, you thought of him taking you on that fucking stage after the place was closed, hovering over you with your legs locked around his hips and your hands gripping the wrists pinned beside your head so tight your knuckles paled. You swore that, even in your little scenario, you could feel his breath fanning across your face as he leaned down to murmur in your ear through his huffs and lustful, breathy sighs.
“Such a good girl, takin’ it all f’me. Pretty girl, pretty baby. All mine. All mine.”
You opened your eyes and forced yourself to return to reality when you felt yourself being watched. Of course you were being watched - there were dozens upon dozens of eyes surrounding your stage, watching from behind the porcelain gaps in their animalistic masks. But there was another sensation of being stared at that didn’t quite fit in with the rest of them, one that sent a certain kind of shiver down your spine. Keeping in time with your routine and the music thrumming through the floorboards of the club, you peered deep into the wide atrium in search of whoever was fixing you with such a gaze.
You found it.
He was standing nearly in the shadows where the lights couldn’t reach him, arms crossed tight over his chest and stance firm so that everyone who looked at him knew to never even think of invading the space he’d claimed for himself. The man was tall and sinewy with muscle, but you had to squint to see his frame clearly through the dark and the dress jacket he wore. Over his face, the edges obscured by the slicked-back mess of dark hair atop his head, he wore the club’s one and only spider mask.
It was a specialty disguise, one that only the top rollers and highest bidders of the evening bribed their way to at the front room. It usually signified that whoever was behind the porcelain wanted attention, wanted drinks to come nonstop to their side tables, wanted every girl in the damn house on their lap and at their feet. And yet, this evening’s spider was nothing like that. He clung to the shadows, to the perimeter of the room, like he didn’t want anyone to know he was there. He took up no more space than necessary. He was practically a no one, despite the delicate, fractured-looking design he wore over his features.
And he was watching you dance like he was mesmerized, like if the doors were chained shut and the place was burning down around him, he’d be content to stay where he was and keep his eyes focused on your body.
When the man realized you had spotted him, that you were staring right back at him through the gaps of your monarch mask, he moved. You nearly wanted to cry out, to tell him to wait, that you weren’t done. But you couldn’t.
So instead you continued to dance, continued to watch him as he flowed through the other patrons toward the exit. Yet when he turned in just a particular way to avoid bumping into a server, you saw it; through the unbuttoned top pair of buttons of his dress shirt, you spotted it, you were able to catch a glimpse of a pale, raised scar running along his collarbone.
The very same you’d seen on Spiderman.
tags: @mooomeadows @twentysomethingwereyote @screamforyani @fangirlreice7 @axdjelx @ornamentalnecromancy @faust-pda @ilikethemoon28 @mrm-pachypoda @wadafrick
(strike through means your blog could not be tagged.)
#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o’hara x y/n#miguel o'hara#miguel o’hara x you#miguel o'hara x reader#atsv miguel o’hara#miguel o’hara#into the spider verse#across the spiderverse#atsv x reader#atsv miguel#spiderman atsv#atsv
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Dark Red // Jake Seresin
Summary: Jake Seresin is usually pretty cool, carm and cock sure of himself. But when his wife has an accident? He hits the deck pretty hard.
Warnings: Character death. Mentions of car accidents. Fainting. Jake Seresin x F!reader.
Word Count: 2.7k
Author Note: Day Eleven of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: ‘Fainting.’ Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.
It was enough to shake you that was for sure. The sheer force of the car behind you that had run right up the back of you and sent your bonnet into the back of the car in front of you, practically sandwiching you in, was enough to rattle you.
It was enough to have the airbag deploying in your face, breaking your nose that would surely leave two very black and swollen eyes from the sinus pressure. It was enough to shatter the glass of your front and back windscreens like they were paper thin. The forces had crumbled the aluminum of your 1999 Ford Festiva with ease. Like a paper bag being trot on. The same car Jake was adamant that you finally upgrade from. The same care that you were so attached to.
Guess there wouldn’t be any love lost when Jake found out that your beloved Festiva was totally gone. She was to put it simply—unsalvageable. But at least you were able to walk away relatively unscathed.
“Would you like us to give your emergency contact a call?” Jake Seresin had been your best friend for just over ten years. The two of you had only just recently gotten married after dating for eight of those. There had never really been any real rush to put pen to paper and make all the legal arrangements and challenges. You were pretty content in the role you played in Jake's life. But when his career started to see him in more life threatening situations, he started to wonder what exactly he’d be leaving you behind with. It made sense on paper to get married and it made even more sense to share the Seresin name with the six month old fetus kicking it in utero. Little Baby Seresin.
“My husband’s at work—“ You sighed to the woman checking on your little boy's heart, strong and stable. No signs of distress from his end which was the best possible outcome. “You can probably just clean me up and send me on my way.”
“Hmm—“ Although there were no obvious signs, Linda Masters thought it would be in your best interests to stay overnight for observations. She was waiting to hear back from your OB. “I’d rather keep you in overnight, just to make sure baby doesn’t decide to change his mind.”
“Okay, but when you get someone to call, just make sure you let him know that we’re fine.” You were really insistent on that, you knew how Jake could get when it came to you. For someone who was usually so cool, calm and cock sure of himself, he could get a little flustered to say the very least whenever something involved you. “He doesn’t need to leave work, but he can definitely swing by with an overnight bag afterwards.”
“Oh boy.” You knew that voice from a mile away. “Seresins ganna go into cardiac arrest when he finds out that little miss is sitting in my Emergency Room.” Doctor Benjamin Ocka or more affectionately known by the Daggers as, Doc Ock, cooed as he came up to your bedside. “I was called for a consult?” He addressed the technician who was just packing away her ultrasound machine.
“Y/n Seresin, six months pregnant, sustained a broken nose and possibly sinus damage from her airbag. There doesn’t seem to be any other major injuries, just a couple of bumps and bruises.”
Ben chuckled as he assessed your nose, ears, eyes and mouth. Your bloodied nose was huge, swollen as swollen could be. He knew immediately that you were gonna be on bed rest for a few days. Especially when it came to the part in the healing process where your sinuses would swell so much that you wouldn’t be able to see.
“I’ll call Hangman shall I?” He sighed as he placed his little light into the top pocket of his doctor’s jacket and sat beside you. “Bubs okay?”
“Perfectly fine, we’re staying for a sleepover just to be sure.”
“I’m probably gonna need to readjust your nose.” He frowned softly as he kept assessing your face. “Little bit of surgery but we can discuss that once the swelling goes away—if you can breathe and can deal with a crooked nose for a small period of time I might like to hold off on non essential plastic surgery till after Baby Seresins here.”
Ben was Payback's husband. He was as charming and as a part of your little group as any of the spouses and all Roosters girlfriends were. He cared about the people who took care of his husband in the sky and made sure he got to come home every night.
“Sounds good, but yes—please, call Jake and let him know we’re fine.” You pleaded. “Lead with they're totally fine, if anything this is just a courtesy call from your wife to say that it’s take out for dinner.”
“He’s gonna flip out Y/n.” That was your moment of defeat. You sighed into the pillow of your emergency room bed and let your head lull to the side as you placed two very protective hands across your belly.
“I know.” You grumbled. “I know he is and he’s gonna be so happy about that damn Festiva too.”
***~***~***~***~***~***
Jake only wore a Garmin watch when he was on the ground because it was connected to his phone. He only wore a Garmin watch so that if someone called him during the day, all he had to do was look at his wrist and decide if the call was worth taking on the clock.
Jake only wore a Garmin watch for moments like these, where he sat in the middle of a debriefing on this afternoon's drills and saw Payback's husband's affectionate caller ID, ‘Benny Boy’ flash up on the screen.
“I gotta go.” Jake knew deep down Ben wouldn’t call like this if it wasn’t an emergency. “I’ll be right back.” Jake stood so fast that the feet of his chair made a high pitched squeak against the smooth concrete floor. All eyes were on him, colleagues and instructors alike as he rushed out of the hangar and fished his phone, which had been on silent, out of his pocket.
His heart nearly stopped inside his chest when his body and mind immediately knew what to ask as his thumb swiped over the screen of his phone before he held it up to his ear. Shaking, Jake knew that it had to be about you—why else would Ben be calling in the middle of the day when they were both on shift?
“What happened? Is she okay?” It took all the breath out of Jake's lungs when he spoke. He never wanted to get this call. If anyone ever asked him about his biggest fear in life, he wouldn’t say dying in a dog fight or crashing into the pacific. No. He’d say losing the love of his life. “Ben?”
“Hey man.” Ben tried to be as calm as he could be because really, you were fine. There was no cause for concern, just a broken nose. “Y/n had an accident, not her fault, distracted driver situation.” Jake felt like his entire world was crumbling around him as he took panic filled strides towards the locker room. “She’s fine, her nose is busted pretty good but other than that her and the baby are—“ There's a very loud, very audible thud on the other end of the line as Ben checks your lab reports at the nurses station. “Hello?” He questioned with concern laced in his tone. “Hangman? You there?” Ben knows he’s not. “Fuck—“
Meanwhile, on the floor of the locker room, laid Jake Seresin. Completely out cold and unresponsive as his teammates sat in their debriefing wondering what the hell had gotten into the newlywed man they all loved to hate and hated to love.
Jake had smacked his head on the corner of the long metal seat that ran down the middle of the locker hall. He was face down, bleeding pretty bad and had his cheek squished so hard into the grate on the floor it was gonna leave a mark when he peeled himself up. Like those parks you get when you have a killer nap.
The crimson red that pooled on the tiles was thick and spread thin into the grooves of the tiles. It crept its way across the locker room floor like vines. Jake was under, but even in his unconscious state you were the only thing on his mind. You smile, your infectious laugh, the way you looked carrying his son, so swollen and perfect. His wife. The love of his life.
“Can someone go get Seresin?” Mav sighed as he held the bridge of his nose behind the podium. “Rooster, go drag him back here before I send him up there blind.” Everyone knew it was an empty threat, but regardless, Bradley stood to his feet with an exaggerated sigh and headed down the hall in the direction of where he thought his wingman had gone.
Bradley wasn’t expecting to walk into the locker room and see what he saw. He was just trying to make sure Jake didn’t get torn to shreds for ditching during the debriefing. But to his shock horror—as he rounded the corner into the locker room, his heart jumped out of his chest at the sight of his wingman lying face down on the grime covered tiles. There was probably dirt caked into the grouting from when his dad roamed these halls.
“Holy crap—“ It was the first thing out of Bradleys mouth as he made his way over in a hurry. “Hangman?” The way Bradley said his wingman’s callsign was laced in pure panic. “Jake man, you okay?” Rooster shook Jake's shoulder gently at first—but when the six foot something blonde didn’t stir, he shook him a little harder. “Hangman! Wake up man, c’mon open your eyes.”
“Mmhph—“ It wasn’t a word, but a sound, and Bradley was happy with that as he rolled Jake over onto his side to start with.
“Jake you’re bleeding.” It was everywhere. Bradley looked around frantically to try and find what may have been the cause of such a head wound. But when his eyes locked onto the corner of the cold, old metal bench—he knew immediately. “Don’t move alright.”
“Y/n—“ Jake grumbled as he tried to sit up. “My wife.” It was pure need and adrenaline that coursed through Jake Seresins veins the second he’d come to. “I need to get to Y/n—“
“Woah, take it easy Hangman.” Bradley tried to steady Jake as he tried to stand. “You hit your head pretty hard on the bench, we should probably get you to medical?”
“Hospital—“ Was all Jake groaned as he stood, Rooster watched in horror as the blood gushed from Jake’s gash. It looked deep and angry, like he’d been cut almost through his skull. “I need to get to the hospital.” Bradley can’t keep up to save his soul. “Y/n—“ As Jake stands to his very unsteady feet, he mumbled your name over and over as his fingertips reach up to touch the crimson red dripping down his face. “Oh fuck my head.”
“I’ll take you to the hospital if you can remember what happened?” It’s the only way Rooster can think of putting two and two together. Why did Jake need to get to the hospital to see you? And why was he passed out of the floor of the locker room? “Jake? Why’s Y/n at the hospital?” It’s a question laced in as much concern as it is dread. You’re not due yet, what if something happened to the baby and that’s what caused Jake to break? “Is she alright? Is baby Seresin alright?”
The silence that lingered as Jake stumbled his way over towards the door had Rooster's heart caught up in his throat. He knew how much Jake loved you and his unborn child. He knew that the man with the bloodied forehead and the sure fire concussion would move mountains and part seas just to kiss a paper cut on your fingertip. So when Jake stopped in his tracks, swayed side to side as if he was going down again, Bradley knew something had happened that completely rocked Jake Seresins world.
“They were in an accident—“
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***
It was the way Jake came racing into the emergency room that worried you the most. He slammed right in for the doorframe like he either didn’t see it or like he’d been running a million miles and hour to get to you.
You hadn’t yet been moved from the emergency short stay area into one of the wards, which you were thankful for the second Ben spotted Jake stumbling towards you with a head laceration.
“Oh my god, what the hell happened?” You asked Rooster as he rushed in after Jake. He knew he was about to cop an earful. “Bradshaw, why is my husband bleeding?” You barely got to ask before Jake was at your side.
“He fainted when he got the call you were in hospital.” Rooster explained softly as he pulled up a chair for Jake to sit beside you in . “Here you, sit down man before the room starts spinning.” Bradley ushered Jake to sit as he reached out for your hands. “You and bubs alright? What happened?”
“We’re fine.” You tried to explain. “Nose is pretty sore but we’re fine.”
“Baby I swear I can’t ever lose you.” Jake began as he sat as close to your bedside as he could. It was the sweetest thing, although you suspected it was all coming from the concussion you knew your husband definitely had. “You or bubs.” Jake placed a gentle hand across your stomach. “My heart nearly burst out of my chest when I got the call.”
“I should probably take a look at that—“ Ben interrupted as he sent you a shy, all knowing smile. “Hit the hard deck, did you Seresin?” Ben chuckled to himself as he gave Jake's head the once over. “I specifically remember telling you that your wife was fine.”
“‘M’panicked, can’t lose her boss.” Jake replied softly as his eyes never left you, it pained him to see you like this. Bloodied and bruised, but alive. “I think I hit my head though.”
“He smacked it pretty hard on the corner of the metal bench in the locker room.” Bradkey added as Ben started to clean out the head wound at your bedside, he knew there was no point asking Jake to move when the answer was going to be a hard no.
“I’ll order a tetanus shot because that thing is grotesque and get some antibiotics sorted.” Ben stated as he worked, Jake however—he never took his eyes off you.
“Did you really pass out when you were told I was in an accident?”
“Can’t lose you.” Was all your husband mumbled against your hand as he kissed your palm. “Can’t lose you, won’t lose you or baby Seresin.”
“We aren’t going anywhere, love.” You sweetly replied as you reached out to caress Jake's chin. “I promise.”
“My head really hurts.” He whispers softly as you chuckled to yourself. “Gotta work on my landing huh?”
“Yeah bubba.” You sighed. “I need you around for the long hall.” As you gently stroked your husband’s chin you saw his eyes begin to roll as he swayed to the left. Jake's entire body stiffened as he lost all sense of direction, his surroundings were gone in the blink of an eye as he began to seize uncontrollably.
“Woah! Hey! HEY I NEED SOME HELP OVER HERE!” Ben shouted as you watched on in helpless horror as he went with Jake to the ground. Placing him in the recovery position. “LETS GET HIM BACK PEOPLE!”
“Rooster, what's happening?” You sobbed behind your hands as tears poured down your face. “Jake?” It was the last thing you remembered before everything went cold and dark. The last thing you remembered seeing when you woke not a few moments later, was your husband and father of your child—hemorrhaging before you.
All because he bumped his head.
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***
Whumptober Tags 🏷️ @xoxabs88xox @oldermenaremyreligion @slut-f0r-u @emma-is-cool @armydrcamers @topguncortez @topgun-imagines @kmc1989 @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt
#ailesswhumptober2023#leahs whumptober masterlist#Jake Seresin whump#jake seresin x female!reader#jake seresin fanfiction#jake hangman fic#tw: whump#tw: death
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Hii! Could you write Hobie with reader (preferably f!reader but any gender is fine) who’s a spiderperson but they have little to no spider sense and when any danger is coming Hobie would protect them🤌
Hope you have a great day!
𝐆𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐠
People liked to joke about how Hobie was your personal guard dog. No villain or criminal could get anywhere near you before Hobie was launching himself at them.
Of course you could stick up for yourself, but it’s when you didn’t notice them is when he started to attack them.
You didn’t have a spider sense, like Miguel, and unlike the rest of the spiders. No one knew why, but you just didn’t.
So when something did happen, he blamed himself. He was fighting off another anomaly, since there was two. And he didn’t notice the one behind you, he was focused on the vulture in front of him.
The doctor octopus you were fighting suddenly came behind you. He had realized that you weren’t as aware as the other spiders he had fought before, and that you sometimes could be lost, but you were still good.
So he used that to his advantage, and like the smart doctor he was, came up behind you, and used one of arms. He put the arm around you, squeezing you and holding you high up off the floor.
Hobie looked over, and his eyes widened. He ignored the vulture, and just ran up the building he was climbing.
Hobie hit him with a web in the back.
“Put ‘er down!” He shouted, angry.
“Aww.. looks like your little boyfriend came to your rescue.” He said in a condescending voice. He stopped and instead of continuing up the building, he put his arm that was around you on your throat now, and grabbed Hobie. You thrashed around the metal, and Hobie tried to reach out for you.
“I don’t know who you both are, but unless you tell me where the others are, I’m gonna make you watch as she struggles to breathe.”
The vulture watched from above, waiting for his prey.
Your eyes started to close. Hobie broke free of the grip the doctor had on him and put a web in his face, he yelled and tried to get it off, and while distracted you fell down. Hobie quickly raced to get you, you fell and he narrowed his eyes as he dived down.
He quickly grabbed you, right before you hit the ground. Doctor octopus laughed as you slowly opened your eyes.
“Hobes?” You muttered.
It was the smallest voice, but it brought him so much relief.
“Yeah…its me.” He said, and softly put you down on the ground. You got on your legs and held onto him tightly as you did so, knees shaking slightly.
The vulture swooped down, and grabbed Hobie this time. You quickly sprung back into action, and put a string of web on him, so you were flying in the air after him.
Then, you hit the ground and planted your feet into the concrete. You groaned and pulled the web, your strength regaining at the thought of Hobie in danger.
The vulture started to fall back, and he was finally pulled down, Hobie falling onto the street and getting up again. Hobie webbed him to the ground quickly.
Doc ock saw this, and quickly raced down to you both again.
Now it was just you and Hobie against him.
“He was useless, anyways.” He spat.
“Is that so?” You said, you and Hobie looked at each other and knew what to do.
Hobie took out his guitar, and waited for you. You ran up to him, jumping on it, then going upside down, and behind Doctor Octopus.
You used both hands to shoot your webs, his arms shot to you and while he was distracted, Hobie also webbed him up. You both focused on his arms, you landed and ran up to him, jumping up and kicking the man in the face, knocking him down to the ground while webbed up.
“How’s it coming?” Jessica checked in on you both, hologram appearing behind you.
“We just got them. Coming back now.”
“Good job.” She said, and disappeared.
Doc ock trashed against the webs, groaning and shouting. “You’ll never w-“
“Oh shut up.” Hobie said, putting a web on his mouth and went up to you.
He lifted up his mask, and you lifted up yours, you both kissed.
“You alright?” He asked.
“I’m alright, thanks to you.” You said, with a smile and pulled down your mask.
He pulled his down and nodded.
“That’s what I’m here for, innit?”
You laughed and started to get them together, Hobie put them in the red cells and you opened the portal.
You walked through them one at a time, you dragged Doc Ock and Hobie dragged the vulture.
You both put them in the anomaly room, and high fived.
“Telling you, we’re the best team they have.” Hobie shrugged.
“Only because you’re the best guard dog I could ask for.” You laughed, kissing his cheek as you both walked to debrief.
“Ya know I hate being called that-“
“I know, I’m just playing.” You laughed at him.
—————————————
Tag list:
Hobie- @enviinotes @rayis-psychotic @korizzybee @animechick555 @stupid-ninja @rreasonablydumbb @xxqueen-of-horrorxx @spidypunkk @criodzasn
@techta @1eonk @chipstermation6 @whosace16 @ @l-pandamatic-l
@spider-phoenix @zebralover @my-melo-gf @wiz-te-ria @tzuyuzzs @luvsaluv @mxkn
@deputy-videogamer @666kpopfan @jared-oranges @likelilac @jjkclub
@kitty-kei @blaxk-widow @hoesindifferentshows @lavsluvsu @lampylamperson @artsykerfuffleplus @notbluees @sp0kyzz @arlipooh @freeingrebels @ken-zah @blustalker @cursedbitchboy @romanoffswoman
@chaoticevilbakugo @hobiebrainrot @anonima-2
#hobie brown#hobie brown fluff#hobie brown x you#hobie brown x reader#spider punk#spider punk x reader
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It Takes Two
Part 2 is here finally
Part 1, Part 3, Part 4
Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x enhanced ex-avenger reader
Warnings: Angst, happy ending, kinda possessive Miguel, love confessions, mentions of injuries and medical stuff, self gaslighting, they finally stop being idiots
Words: 1.8k+
Rated: PG-13
You woke up alone and in pain. Well, it wasn't exactly pain as you knew it, but it was definitely discomfort. The right side of your chest felt like it was woven with lead and your head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, adding to your over all discomfort "You gave us all quite a scare!" A Spider-Nurse chuckled as soon as he entered your room with perfect timing, scaring the crap out of your poor little self.
"What happened?" You asked, your voice rough and popping from disuse, the heart monitor beeping in time with your fright.
He began poking and prodding, measuring your condition with his eyes and ears "Doc Ock got an extremely good hit in, sent you flying based on what Lyla said. Bruised your spine, gave you a stellar concussion, and a decent laceration in your right pectoral. It'll scar, but you'll live and that's the most important thing." He was rambling, but his words made everything rush back to you, including a certain confession to a certain someone. You wanted the floors of HQ to swallow you whole and never let you go. The very last thing you'd ever wanted to do was bother Miguel with your feelings for him, make him feel awkward and put on the spot. You were certain that he didn't feel for you as you felt for him, that there was no way he'd let himself because of the Universal difference that stood between you. "Head hurt?" The nurse asked with a warm tone, making you imagine the soft smile that lurked under his mask.
"Ya, just a bit." You nodded a little too quickly for comfort, passing off your emotional turmoil as physical discomfort.
He nodded in understanding before pulling your hospital gown down just enough to check on your wound "Let me just see how this is healing and I'll go get a Doc so they can give you something for the pain."
"Thank you." You said it as sincerely as you could, pulling what looked like another smile from the Spider-Person.
"You're very welcome." His fingers were gentle as he removed the bandage, not letting the tape pull too much. The air was cold against the wound, making it sting ever so slightly "Looks good, forty-five percent closed on it's own. I'll go find a Doc for you." He put the bandage back before leaving just as suddenly as he'd arrived, his steps just as quiet as every other Spider's.
It didn't take long for the Doctor to come, her white coat pristine over her dark suit "Hello Y/n, I'm Doctor Petra. How are you feeling?" She asked in that measured tone all Doctors seemed to use.
"Uncomfortable."
She nodded with a thoughtful hum, quickly putting on nitrile gloves and pulling back the bandage for her own peek "Well, I can confidently say you can be discharged today, the wound is healing excellently on it's own. And I can give you some prescription grade Ibuprofen for the pain if you want."
"No, I've got some at home I can use."
"Ok. Light duty for a while I'm afraid. No missions or heavy lifting until after your follow up, ok?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Alrighty!" She hummed, taking off her gloves and throwing them to the bin across the room "You're all set to go! Your clothes are there on the chair, take your time getting dressed and holler if you need help! See you in two weeks!" She got up and left your room before you could ask when in two weeks you were supposed to go back, but decided to not press it as you slowly stood and shuffled over to your pile of clothes stiffly. They were clean, mostly, save for the blood on your undershirt and jacket, but there wasn't a speck of dirt to be found. Getting your shirt on was hell, your wound not wanting to let you raise your arm up enough so you had to get creative. Walking out of the hospital wing was relieving, though seeing Miguel waiting for you at the entrance was a whole new stress in and of itself.
He was still as a statue as he waited, stoic as usual with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. You felt like you were walking into a lecture as you stiffly closed the space between you until there were only two feet left "Hey..." You greeted first, you voice soft and light in trepidation.
"Ready?" His voice didn't match his visage, it was light and warm instead of flat, his eyes that shade of garnet that was quickly becoming your favorite. You didn't trust yourself to speak, instead nodded and quickly falling into step beside him. His hand immediately found itself a home on your mid-back, warm and soothing, anchoring through your jacket. Addicting. You wanted to sink into the contact, and you could swear he sensed that as his fingers spread to increase contact, taking up nearly an entire third of your back. He didn't say or do anything as you both walked towards his office, just coexisted in the same bubble as people stopped and murmured around you. "So, I suppose we have something pretty important to talk about." His words filled the messy space as soon as the doors closed behind you, his expression instantly changing to something akin to teasing amusement.
"Oh?" You asked, pulling away from him to sit on a desk, needing to take the pressure off of your hips and back.
He raised a brow at your bid of ignorance, the corners of his mouth barely curling in a restrained smile that was fighting for freedom "Mhmm." He took a spot barely inches away from you, between your knees. Your heart was racing wildly in your chest, in his ears, your throat jumping in time under his gaze. He found it adorable, how nervous you suddenly were. "Something about me being pretty when I smile?" His smile grew in spite of his attempts to curb it as your eyes widened, realizing that he did indeed remember everything you'd said, and confirming to him that you remembered as well. "And how you've had a crush on me for the last year." He watched as you looked away, mortified, a dullness lending itself to your eyes. It concerned him, making his suit recede from his hands as he reacted for you, broaching the last few inches as he gently grabbed your chin between his thumb and forefinger and brought your focus back to him "Hey now." He cooed low in his throat, trying to coax you out of the shell he saw you constructing.
"I shouldn't have said any of that. It's unfair of me to burden you with my feelings. I'm really sorry, I promise to not make it a problem for you." Your words were hasty as they tumbled off your tongue, still not looking him in the eyes.
He ducked into your gaze, worried as you tried to shut him out and shut the conversation down, made you look him in the eyes as he brow furrowed "Why would it be a problem for me?"
"For a multitude of reasons!" Your voice was suddenly loud and you were willingly meeting his gaze, eyes swirling with a plethora of emotions, so many that he suddenly wanted to kiss away and chase out of your mind with all the love he could give you for the entirety of his life. "We're from different Universes for one! And you deserve so much better than me!"
His head tilted to the side as your words rang in his head. Did you truly believe that you weren't good enough for him? If anything, he whole-heartedly believed he wasn't good enough for you! "What?"
"I wasn't even good enough for my ex! He threw me away as soon as he could, after everything! I'm broken! You can do so much better than me. You deserve so much better..." You sniffled, tears falling fast and hard from your eyes.
Both of his hands found your cheeks, his thumbs tenderly brushing away your tears before he was pressing his forehead to yours, sharing air with you, hoping that his thoughts would be shared with you "Eres mi cielo, mi alma. Te amo, más que a nada." He rumbled into the minimal space "You are everything to me, Y/n. You always will be." He vowed, making your tears multiply as the words you'd longed to hear were finally in the air between you "I'm not Steve, I'm not going to leave you for a 'what if' because there's no one better for me than you. Because I love you. I want to grow old with you, I want to raise children with you, make a life with you. And only you. Only if you want the same with me."
Your heart was stuttering as you processed his words, as you searched for a falsehood you already knew you'd never find. You were nodding before you had a chance to get the words out "Yes, for a million years, yes!" His smile was everything to you in that moment, so broad you were sure his cheeks would be sore later, his eyes so bright they were like red stars.
"Can I kiss you?" He asked softly, moving so close that his nose was caressing yours, sending goosebumps across your body with a rush of thrill and anticipation.
You nodded, not breaking contact as his breath fanned your face lightly "Please do, Miguel." He didn't waste a moment, pressing his plush lips to yours feather light, testing the waters. It felt like he was being electrocuted in all the best ways, a tingle rushing up and then down his spine as your lips pressed so deliciously against his. He couldn't tell who deepened it, all he knew was that in no time your lips were dancing together, following a rhythm only they knew as you both clung desperately to each other, his hands under your shirt, touching as much of your skin as they could, while your hands were tangled in his hair. He could barely pull away from you even a few inches to catch his breath, your pupils blown as wide as his no doubt were "I love you." You whispered softly, smiling up at him so prettily. He groaned a growl as he dove into another kiss, devouring your breathy giggles as you kissed him back. You were finally his, where you belonged, and he was going to make sure you remained by his side, he was going to love you like you'd never been loved before. He swore it to the Multiverse. To all the Gods. To every molecule in his being. He'd love you til the end of Time itself.
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>:) I did it
Chad Dickson x Reader
I want him to carry me like that :,(
“I am NOT thinking about Chad!!”
The tall girl gracefully skated through the K.N.D moon base, she was on her way to see Numbuh 274 AKA "the best there ever was" AKA "blondie locks" as she called him.
"Great, first mama almost went into labor, now I gotta go excuse that stupid love-sick fool" (Y/N) Velardo Pérez, AKA Numbuh 6, thought bitterly while tugging on her necklace that had the number 6 written on it, her number.
Her plan was flawless, steal back the limited-edition ice cream flavor from some bratty teens.
Luke Andretti, AKA Numbuh 13, had volunteered to be the bait by insulting them and then bolting as fast as he could, while Clyde Heighsenburg, AKA Numbuh 19, shut down the cameras while giving directions.
She and Maxwell, Max, Montague AKA Numbuh 27, we're meant to be the stealers, she knew what she was doing and was trying to not be bothered by Max's horrible flirting.
She still remembers what he said to her while he was lowering her down on a line to snatch the ice cream. "Hey so, just a thought maybe, if you want, we could go watch a movie or get some food later?" He bashfully asked.
She knew he liked her, hell, everybody did, but of all times NOW?? When she had the goal a millimeter away!?! She could hear Numbuh 19 mutter a quiet "woah" over their com.
The confession had thrown her off her game as the tub of ice cream fell from her hands and trigger the laser sensors.
"Ah, screw it!" She thought. She jumped down from the line with Numbuh 27 quickly following.
Loud Alarms went off and a siren was blaring. She saw Numbuh 13 speed in and lock the door as fast as he could while Numbuh 19 used his doc-ock tentacles to crawl out the vent above them.
"Dude! What happened???" Numbuh 13 asked, rushing over to the only girl in the group. "Tell you later-Clyde find us a way out!!" The girl said with a red hue covering the apples of her full cheeks.
The chubby blond was staring at his computer screen as he lowered himself to the ground. "Already found one boss!" he said while leaning closer to Numbuh 6.
Numbuh 13 also leaned closer to her, but that was just for comfort. Numbuh 27 glared at his teammates for crowding the girl but held his tongue, he knew how angry she got when her plan went awry, he even had a scar to prove it!!
"There's an opening through the vents to a weak spot in the building ," Numbuh 19 said "27 can blow it down and I can go get the car while you and 13 fight them." she nodded while smashing her knuckles together, activating the SERIOUS. PUNCH. INDUCING. KINETIC. ENERGY gloves Aka S.P.I.K.E gloves, while Numbuh 13 winked his hazel and blue eyes at his secret boyfriend/best friend giving him a thumbs up."you got it babe" 13 said in a cocky tone as he stretched.
Numbuh 27 quietly approached his leader and gently caressed her shoulder "be....Be careful, ok?" he said as he looked into 6's eyes. "K" was all she replied with and walked ayay.
While doing some warmup punches because the boyfriends are still wishing each other goodbye like they will never see each other again she started thinking.
'I can't believe he has the AUDACITY to ask ME out during a mission blondie personality assigned me' she started punching the air faster 'oh gods...if we fail this mission....then.....then he'll never trust me again!'
She shook her head ' No! I'm going home with this ice cream even if there was a small hiccup in the plan'
she started pacing 'their TEENS you can take 'em!! Plus!! Your planning on going M.I.A anyway, so why not go out with a bang and some blood on ya gloves??'
Numbuh 6 felt a hand on her shoulder and snapped her head to glare at whoever has a death wish. "You ready boss??" the boy brunette asked getting into a fighting position. "Always." the leader responded with a smirk while copying her besties position.
He looked at her for a while before sending her a teasing look "your thinking about him aren't you??" Numbuh 6's face quickly heated up as she stomped her foot "I am NOT thinking about Chad!!"
He smiled and looked back at the door that was getting cut down
"I never said it was chad"
".........Shit........."
#x reader#chad dickson#codename kids next door x reader#codename kids next door#so here we are#i love him#so bbg#numbuh 274#numbuh 274 x reader#made by totallynoteggos
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I posted 1,572 times in 2022
386 posts created (25%)
1,186 posts reblogged (75%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@zoeykallus
@nahoney22 (you gotta love yourself too)
@moonstrider9904
@eyecandyeoz
@twistedstitcher27
I tagged 400 of my posts in 2022
#the bad batch - 128 posts
#star wars - 106 posts
#clone wars - 101 posts
#tbb - 69 posts
#nahoney22 writes - 54 posts
#tech bad batch - 31 posts
#bad batch - 23 posts
#hunter bad batch - 21 posts
#crosshair bad batch - 20 posts
#bad batch tech - 19 posts
Longest Tag: 110 characters
#i have a three hour social visit in the morning and the last thing i need is to be crying because of spoilers.
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
See You Again***
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵
Doc Ock X F!Reader
word count: f knows it’s long probably like 5-6k sorry lmao
You’re visited one night at work by Doc Ock himself and every memory you once had of him came swarming back; as did the untold feelings you shared for him.
warnings: 18+ so minors shoo. Ock being a bit creepy to reader, slight manhandling but nothing sinister. Nsfw, Smut, praise, dirty talk, p in v sex, restraints used by tentacles, bit angsty and a bit of fluff, cream pie, swearing, not properly proofread. One off shot, won’t do a part 2 ❤️
A/N gif by me. Request for my beautiful @itsjml - Happy belated birthday 👑 and this is my first Doc Ock fic! So I hope you enjoy you doc ock fuckers 🐙
Italics is flashback
—————————
When the news struck about Otto Octavius robbing banks, destroying buildings and becoming the new villain of New York, you couldn’t believe it.
This was Otto, your Otto. Well, he never was but you had once or twice imagined in your silly thoughts that he could be. Funny, right? The only man to pay you any mind, only one to actually talk with you about everything and anything. And now he is gone; replaced by a villain that terrorizes the city.
When you met Otto, it was your second week into the job at Oscorp. It was Harry who initially hired you as the two of you had been friends in college and when he heard you were looking for something just to help pay rent at your small apartment, he just had a new position open up; a receptionist.
It wasn’t the glamorous job you always thought you’d have as a young, naive kid but the pay was decent. It was just a tad boring, answering emails and phone calls on a phone that you had to hold the cord in a certain place to hear the customer properly all day long.
But, you found yourself enjoying it more when you met Otto. You had seen him a few times and low-key admired the tall, slightly heavy set man from afar but it wasn’t until one storming morning you first spoke to each other.
Running towards the building in the blistering winds and heavy downfall of rain as black clouds wrapped around the city sky, you didn’t realise that in your mad sprint you had dropped the fob onto the floor.
As you went to let yourself in, you cursed as the fob wasn’t anywhere on your person.
By now, your hair was drenched, strands clinging onto your damp face and your white shirt did you the injustice of becoming transparent and showing off your dark navy bra. You didn’t even bring a coat because the forecast was supposed to be bright and sunny all week - not torrential rain.
Suddenly, a shadow loomed over you and a strong arm wrapped around your shoulders and brought you close to their side. Since you were always told to be wary about foes in the city, you were about to make a swipe at them and tell them off for randomly grabbing you but as you looked at them the side profile of the Doctor you had been admiring stood at your side with an umbrella sheltering you both.
“Drop your fob, ma’am?” He questions, not taking a look at you as he pulled out his own entry device and swipes it against the door as the two of you piled into the warmth of the building.
“Uh, yeah. Looks that way.” You shudder once his arm leaves you and you turn to see him shake out the rain from his umbrella before he looks up at you and smiles. And what a charming smile he had.
You weren't sure, but you would hazard a guess that this man was trying his damn hardest not to tear his eyes away from your face to gaze at your slight state of exposure but, being the gentleman he seemed to be, he didn’t. “You’re Harry’s friend.” He says more of a statement than a question.
Stupidly looking at him all awestruck like, it was when he cleared his throat that you snapped out of your gaze and thanked your red cheeks on the cold weather rather than the embarrassment of staring at him. “Yeah, that’s me.”
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448 notes - Posted January 21, 2022
#4
Touch Starved with Tech
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵
Tech X GN!Reader
word count: 3.4k
The fifth and final instalment of the Touch Starved Series with the gorgeous Tech.
warnings: none, touch starved Tech, fluff, a little suggestive if you squint. Enjoy 🤍 SCHEDULED POST.
Masterlist
——————————
Affection was not something Tech had any particular interest in when growing up nor was it something he was ever on the receiving thing of. It didn’t bother him, no. In fact, he never felt as though he needed to hug someone or shake someone’s hand to show comfort or gratitude. Why would he when his mind was racing with a thousand different ways to show these types of feelings?
That all changed however when you came into his life.
You had met him and the rest of the batch on Kamino, working under Master Jedi Shaaki Ti as one of the medical team. It was her who had signed you up to work with Clone Force 99 and although you all seemed reluctant, it was the best thing to ever happen.
There was no mistaking that Tech had found you attractive, every one of his brothers did and it didn’t help that you were also incredibly kind-hearted and funny. You were patient but brutally honest when you had to be and most of all? You listened to him.
It was a calm day for the Batch, relaxing on the sands of Tatooine and waiting for the next set of missions to come fire their way and Tech was doing his typical daily repairs. However, he ran into a small problem with one of the compartments under the control panel that controls the reflector shields and needed an assistant.
You just so happened to be walking past and glance in his way to see the harsh concentration grace his sharp features. “Everything alright, Tech?”
Glancing up from under the panel upon hearing the sound of the voice, an idea popped into his mind. “Ah! I don’t suppose you could spare a minute or two and assist me with some general repairs?”
“Are you sure? I’m not exactly good at that kind of stuff.” It’s not that you did not want to help but the thought of possibly accidentally breaking something triggered in your mind. It wasn’t until Tech said that you only had to hold some wires and maybe pass him some tools that finally convinced you to help.
“Well, okay then. Let me just take my jacket off and I’ll come under.”
“Not a problem, I can wait.” Tech confirmed by pulling himself back under the panel, laying on the flat piece of his armour on his back and awaited your return.
When you did, the top half of your body only sported a vest top since the ship was hotter than usual (obviously because of the planet and obviously because Wrecker had accidentally broken the cooling system… another task for another day) and got on your knees beside him.
“Alright I’m ready! Can I come under?”
Tech made a noise of what could only be a grunt of approval, slightly shifting more to his left to give you some room as you lay on your back and shimmied your way up beside him. “Okay sir, what would you like me to do?”
Your formal address to him made him chuckle in amusement. “Please, you do not need to call me such formalities as I am nothing more than your teammate. But, I would like you to hold onto this yellow wire whilst I calibrate the circuit board just here.”
Subtly, you rolled your eyes at Tech’s correction to the nickname you gave him but nonetheless took the yellow between your fingers and watched him tinker away.
As you watched him, your eyes traveled down to spot the side of his face, small beads of sweat trickling down from his temple. His face remained set in concentration, jaw clenching and slightly gritting his teeth.
Safe to say that if you were wearing something with a collar, you'd be hot underneath it.
Out of all the members of the Batch, you were probably closest to Tech and but that has unfortunately led to you feeling some kind of way around him. You tried to brush it off as a little crush but the more he taught you, spoke to you… it was definitely more than a little crush.
You tore your eyes away once he asked for the wire back and as you passed the wire towards him, his gloved fingers wrapped around your index finger accidentally causing Tech to gasp and pull back quickly.
Eyes widening a little at his reaction, the first thought that came to mind was that he had an electric shock of some kind.
“Tech, what was that? You okay?” You asked quickly, shifting a little on your side to look at him better as he inspected his fingers closely after dropping his spanner onto his chest.
“I am not too sure what it was but I can assure you that I am alright and you should not be alarmed.” He said simply but on the inside, his blood was boiling and his heart was racing.
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449 notes - Posted February 24, 2022
#3
I feel like none of this would’ve happened if Plo Koon didn’t die
486 notes - Posted September 20, 2022
#2
Touch Starved with Echo
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵
Echo X GN!Reader
word count: 2.6k
The fourth instalment of the Touch Starved Series and this time it’s with the handsome Echo who feels as though he’s not worthy of any comfort.
warnings: This ones a little angsty as Echo is super insecure about his relatively new ‘modifications’. Reader comforts Echo so fluff will be expected too.
Masterlist 🤍
My Ko-Fi 🤍
————————————
Echo being touch starved was not a surprise to anyone. Echo knew he was and so did you and so did his vod to be honest.
The only problem was that he did not like to be touched. At all. The only contact he had recently was with Tech who makes adjustments to his newly modified body and the thought of anyone else touching him made him feel sick.
Sick because he no longer felt like a human and sick at the thought of someone being disgusted by him.
When he met you however, he saw no signs of disgust on your face when you first met in that hangar. However, he stayed way back from you whenever it came to physical contact.
In fact, you thought that you had insulted him when you stuck out your hand to shake his but as he went to put his hand towards you he winced silently and just nodded instead.
But, the two of you got along and that’s all that mattered.
It was a quiet day for the squad, drifting through space as Hunter and Crosshair took control of the cockpit, Wrecker was snoozing in his bunk meanwhile Echo and Tech were tinkering away in the main hull of the ship.
Echo was calibrating something for Tech, the use of his scomp being a valuable asset to the task but Echo noticed that it began to malfunction. He pulled it out of the socket and gave it an experimental twirl but sighed as it got jammed. This wasn’t the first time either, it had been happening at least three times a week and it happening in the middle of working wasn’t great.
“Hey Tech,” he called over to the goggled clone who was head down in his datapad and scanning through the ships files, “my scomp is jammed again.”
He looked up and frowned. “I’m afraid I can’t assist you at the moment.” Then, you walked in and a lightbulb ignited in his brain. “Y/N can help you.”
“Help you with what?” You question, surprised at the sudden task being put on you as soon as you entered.
Echo felt a little nauseous. “Oh, er- it’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing when we need your help with repairs on my ship. Now let them help.” Tech said almost dismissively as he stood and went to speak with Hunter about whatever which just left you two alone.
You immediately sensed his slight hostility about you helping but you were now adamant to tend to whatever he needed and so sat on the swivel chair next to his and smiled. “Is it your scomp?” You nod towards his arm and he arches a brow.
“How did you know?”
“Heard you were having trouble with it a few days ago is all.” You tell him, grabbing some of Tech’s tools that he left on the side by his workbench. “I probably won’t get it working perfectly but I could have a nosey at it.”
Echo chewed on the inside of his cheek, tossing the proposition of you helping him up in his mind until he sighed and nodded. “That’ll be helpful.”
“Not a problem, just place your arm up on here.” You pat the workbench and Echo does as he is told, begrudgingly laying his arm or what was left of it on top and watches as you inspect it before grabbing a small scalpel.
“I’m just gonna see if it’s jammed with dirt first.” You figured telling him what you were about to do with his body was the best step to take, not wanting to do something that might make him snap at you which if you were being honest, didn’t think would ever happen. Echo was always so kind to you and made you caf in the mornings but you soon began to realise you didn’t know much about him. You knew he was a ‘reg’ but you were not told the whole story of how he joined the squad in the first place.
You only joined a month or two after he did as a medic who also knew their way around a power converter and repairing engines so Echo knew he was in somewhat good hands.
You scraped the scalpel alongside the socket, gently tugging at any dirt or oil residue that may have slipped in and cleaned it on some tissue before putting it back in.
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671 notes - Posted January 28, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
OH AND THE NEW ARMOUR??? LOVE
1,628 notes - Posted May 29, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
#it’s no surprise zoeykallus is my number one person I reblog fed#obsessed with her work#and me a close second??? lmao love yourself#my year in review
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Welcome to our blog?
We two random people have decided to form this group project where we write drabbles and oneshots for a variety of fandoms that we are both in.
You can request for one of us in particular to write a work, if you feel so inclined.
Requests for Gold: O P E N !
Requests for Blue: oPeN
More information about the fandoms and characters we write for below the cut!
GOLD(he/they)
Writes for: M/M, N/N, N/M, F/M, male reader and gender neutral reader, smut, fluff, angst, second and third person.
Characters/Fandoms:
Peter Parker (MCU)
Moon Knight (MCU)
DBH
Bruce Wayne (Batman 2022)
Our life: beginnings and always
Miraculous ladybug
The Arcana
Doki Doki Literature Club
Demon slayer
Doctor Strange (MCU)
Eddie Brock (MCU)
Euphoria
Genshin Impact
BLUE (he/him)
Writes for: M/M, N/M, N/N, x male reader, x gender-neutral reader, character x character, first person, second person, third person, angst, fluff, crack, smut (possibly)
Characters/Fandoms:
Marvel:
Peter Parker (comics, PS4, Noir, Spider-Verse, MCU, general)
Wade Wilson (comics, general)
Matt Murdock (comics)
Johnny Storm (comics, general)
Tony Stark (general)
Wolverine (comics)
Loki (general)
Superior Sinister Six (Boomerang, Shocker, Hydro-Man, Speed Demon, Beetle, Beetle (yes both of them)) (comics)
Original Sinister Six (Electro, Doc Ock, Mysterio, Kraven, Chameleon, the other guy)
Kurt Wagner (comics)
Victor Von Doom (comics)
Frank Castle (comics, general)
Eddie Brock (comics)
Dead By Daylight
Detroit: Become Human
#x male reader#x gender neutral reader#dbh#MCU#DBD#marvel#marvel comics#Batman#dead by daylight#our life#doki doki literature club#Genshin impact#Euphoria#miraculous ladybug#demon slayer#superior foes of spider-man#sinister six#Loki#wade wilson#Peter Parker#spider-man#Danny Johnson#the ghost face#moon knight#Bruce Wayne#Steven Strange#Matt Murdock#Frank Castle#Victor Von Doom#battinson
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(gif made by me!!!)
Otto Octavius/Doc Ock x f!reader
Word count: 6.9k
Warnings: 18+, good ol' smut
A/N: I've only written smut like once before and that was years ago so bear with me
Summary/tags: NSFW; classic enemies to lovers; oh no we were in the middle of a fight and one of us initiated a kiss?? oh we're fucking now; lots of pent up tension; degrading; teasing; dom!Otto; actuators put into good use
April fools, bitch 😎😎😎
this is so dumb i'm sorry
#doc ock#otto octavius#doc ock x reader#doc ock x f!reader#otto octavius x reader#otto octavius x f!reader#doc ock x you#otto octavius x you#doc ock smut#otto octavius smut#doc ock imagine#otto octavius imagine#alfred molina#alfred molina x reader#doc ock x reader smut#otto octavius x reader smut#april fools#;)
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Thirty Minutes || Miguel O'hara
Pairing: Miguel O'hara x F!reader
Summary: After convincing Miguel to take a break from working, he generously granted you thirty minutes with him and you know how you'd spend it.
Words: 1.7k
Tags: NOT BETA READ, smut, rough sex, vaginal fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasm, squirting, big dick Miguel, standing sex, deep penetration, fang play, office sex (i guess?)
This is so rushed but he just do things to me. He breathes and I start giggling and twirling my hair. I am so feral for him I'm sorry (not sorry). I swear I'll bring more flavor next time :''DD
forgor to note that the glasses part is heavily inspired by that one scene from a kdrama named "Business Proposal".
hermosa - beautiful || cariño - honey || mi vida - my life || mi amor - my love
Being the leader of the inter-dimensional spider hub, it's expected for Miguel to be drowning with tasks and reports to analyze at any time of day. You accepted that fact when you started dating him on the down low.
You didn't care that he's busy since your time is also taken by fighting crimes and eventual missions. Plus, at the end of the day, the make up sex is godly.
But you find it hard to tolerate it when days and nights blurs without him leaving his office unless he needs to eat and use the bathroom.
Apparently, Jessica has held a few interventions for him with Peter B. and it failed every time. Miguel threw them out and threatened to shut Layla down if she didn't block their access to his office.
Passing by you in the lobby after another mission, Peter B. asked you with a stern look while Mayday babbled, mirroring the seriousness of her dad.
"Please do anything to get him to leave his office. I beg of you."
So after dinner where there's less activities and presence in the hub, you head straight to his office with barely a plan in mind. Clearly confident you'd make the man rest, even for fifteen minutes.
The hatch parts open and you are met by the image of him reading out a report in formal clothing and square glasses, sitting at the edge of the platform. He briefly looked up from the report before returning back to his task.
"Let me guess, Peter sent you here?"
"I heard they've already hosted a couple of interventions and rallies."
Miguel huffed, pitching the bridge of his nose. "Such a waste of time, they could have been in their home world watching over their cities."
"Come on, you know that they're just concerned about you."
"And you're here because you're also concerned?"
You laughed, webbing onto the ceiling and pulling yourself up to land beside him. “Are you really going to act this way, Miguel?”
Miguel didn’t respond, focusing on reading on the report about the paper Doc Ock variant found in Earth 2199 written by the Victorian Spider-Man. You settled on sitting next to him in silence after retracting your suit back.
His subtle glances on your skin tight shorts didn't go unnoticed but you ignored it in favor of
You took the time to observe the man whose bulky body is covered in a simple dress shirt with three buttons down and black pants that complemented the thickness of his thighs. The square glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose only added more flavor to his attire.
He's criminally dashing.
After being away for days to catch an anomaly and crime fighting in your own world, you couldn't ignore the simmering desire bubbling in your abdomen.
How could you not be when your darling looks like a five star Michelin meal in front of you?
Your attention seemed to bother Miguel, who let out a defeated sigh. “Alright, what do you want?”
“I just want to spend time with you, is that so bad?”
Miguel deadpanned at you, seemingly disturbed by the thought before putting the reports down and turning to face you fully with his arms crossed. His eyes scanned your form up and down, letting his head fall back before groaning.
“Alright, I’ll bite. You got thirty minutes.”
You grinned. "That's all I need."
He raised an eyebrow at that but before he could question it, you captured his lips with yours. As if the kiss was a droplet on the water, the ripples caused by the taste of his lips awakened the lust simmering in the pit of your stomach.
His hands found your hips and pulled you close until you rediscovered your rightful seat on his thighs. Rough and calloused touch sneaked past your top and crawled up to the swell of your breast.
Miguel pulled away, removing his glasses—quite erotically—before diving back to lose himself in your lips.
"Is this what you plan on using your thirty minutes for?"
"You know it'll last longer than thirty."
"I doubt that."
His words sent jolts of pleasure down your spine, igniting your nerve endings alight.
"Are you really going to fuck me in your office, boss?"
"Don't 'boss' me, hermosa and you know I'd spread you open no matter the location."
His hands unclasped the front of your bras and spared no time in covering your flesh with his. The rough texture of his palm rubbing against your firm nipples got you moaning, hips twisting in his thighs desperate for stimulation.
Pulling away, Miguel's lips fell to your throat, his tongue roamed the skin above your heartbeat that rose when his razor sharp teeth grazed your flesh, threatening to pierce. With the soft suckles on your neck and the rough massage on your mounds, you were a moaning mess, tugging helplessly on his hair and grinding pathetically on him.
"You're so desperate for me, mi amor. Did you miss me that much?"
"Shut up and just touch me, please."
He groaned, deep. "You sound so adorable when you beg, baby."
He quickly made work of your shirt, tossing it along with your bra before moving to tugging your shorts off. Your hands busies itself with his dress pants, desperate to feel the heat of his skin against your own and to feel the curve of his girth once more.
It didn't take long before you're both naked and bare to anyone who dares enter his chambers. A shrill excitement electrifies your skin at the thought of being caught, the riskiness of being discovered and seen being devoured by the man you love oddly arouses you further.
Though you're sure with how possessive he is, Miguel has already shut the gates to anyone till he's done with you.
But it was an interesting thought to have while his three of his fingers savagely thrusts in and out of your hole, the other hand grounding your hips made it impossible to escape the onslaught of pleasure after pleasure striking your nerves down, you screamed, clawing at his broad back as he fingered you open.
Miguel grunts. "Scream louder for me, mi vida. I want to hear how good I make you feel."
His thumb found your clit and started drawing figures of eight on them, the knot in your abdomen twists tighter as you climb towards your orgasm. There's a wet squelch building up to bounce in the chamber and you flush red yet Miguel took it as a compliment, increasing his speed and curling three fingers upwards more.
Your legs shook violently from where they stood beside his wide thighs before the knot unfurled and you came with a shout, trembling pathetically in his hold. The sudden onslaught of serene euphoria makes you light-headed and you rest your forehead on his shoulder.
He pulled away, choosing to be merciful and let your shaking figure settle down before continuing.
"You didn't squirt? What a shame."
"F-fuck you."
"Don't lie, cariño." There's a grin in his voice as he pulls you flush to him. "I know you like it when I leave you writhing pathetically."
Not sparing any second, he stands up and you wrap your arms around his neck, already sensing his plan as he reaches down to line the tip of dick with your sopping heat. The sensation of his girth so near your entrance re-igniting the suffocating arousal and desire in your body.
"And god, do I miss seeing you cock-drunk and shaking."
Plunging in deep, your mouth falls and you scream. The hilt of his girth grazing your uterus along with the burn of the stretch sparking every nerve endings alight. The familiar feeling of his cock reminding your hole who it belongs to made you feel dizzy, it was too much but it feels so good.
His thrusts are unforgiving, rattling your soul every time his hips collide with yours, leaving you breathless and moaning unintelligible words. His fangs digs into the crook of your neck as he pants and groans into your skin.
The sensation of your pebbled nipples rubbing against his chest sends electric shocks down your spine, adding onto your quick climb to your high.
You could barely make out the Spanish words he's whispering like a prayer, mind fogged with nothing but the pure nirvana he was handing to you.
"Fuck, you feel so good for me. Always so sweet and tight for me, yeah?"
"Yes yes yes…!"
One of his hands grabbed hold of your jaw, forcing you to meet his dark red eyes. "You're not leaving this fucking room until I'm done with you, understand?"
You nod vigorously, wanting nothing but to please him enough to reward you with another orgasm. His lips found your neck once more, nibbling on your skin and teasingly dragging his fangs in his conquest to mark you, which shook you from your stupor, pushing his head away.
"No-not too much. It'll show."
Miguel's eyebrow raised, unfazed. "And?"
"T-they'll find out."
He scoffed. "I don't fucking care. Let them know who fuck you well and bare."
Angling his hips, he grazes a spot and you cry before the next plunge hits it, your legs began to shake around him with every thrust. Tears blurred your vision as pleasure invaded your very being, it didn't take long before you burst in his arms, your arousal painting his clenched stomach.
"That's it. Give it to me."
Ramping his speed, you howled. Pain started to mix with euphoria but you couldn't stop, it's not enough to satiate your famished soul.
"F-fuck…! I-I don't think I can a-anymore."
You squealed at the sharp stinging pain left by his hand on your clit. "You will and I'll make sure of it."
Palming your bead more gently than his savage thrusts, he tightened the coil in your stomach tighter and tighter until it exploded and splattered once more unto his glistening abs, legs writhing helplessly in the air.
With the unbearable tightness of your velvet walls around his dick, Miguel soon followed. Hot liquid arousal painting your insides white with every pulse of his dick. You groaned at the familiar feeling of fullness before wincing at the pain of overstimulation.
Slapping his back, you whined. "I'm so fucking sore and you'll make me walk out by myself. How fucking cruel of you."
Miguel grumbled, catching his breath as he sat you both down on the floor.
"Who said you're leaving, cariño?"
#miguel o'hara x reader one shot#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara imagine#spiderman smut#spiderman fics#marvel smut#marvel fics
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The scent on your coat PT3
Summary: Emotions run rampant as confessions are made and said. Though, Life and Karma always find a way to have the last laugh.
Otto Octavius x F!Reader
Word count: 1.5k
Warnings: Smut, NS/FW, AFAB body parts, yearning, jealousy, heartache and pain.
AO3 link
The ravenous torrent of emotions inside the Scientist laid bare before you, the man’s body language and expression all too telling. The sight of the hulking Doctor Octavius dropping to his knees pulled a yelp out of you, only for the noise to be replaced with a shuddering gasp as he shucked his glasses and gloves off, hands ghosting over your lifted ankles as he moved closer to you.
“It has been so long since I’ve last seen you Y/N… Never would I have dreamt for our reunion to be like this..” Otto groaned between breaths, forehead pressed against your ankle, his words making your heart clench as you looked at him.
“You know.. Before everything… Every time I’d touch you, I feared you would find out just how utterly infatuated I was with you.” He whispered, closing his amazing brown eyes, breathing in the sweet scent of your awaiting core as his hands continued up, massaging your calves softly.
“I laid awake in bed countless nights wondering if you thought of me the same way I thought of you.” He leaned forward and licked up your inner thigh, a searing lighting bolt coursing through you. Your hands flew to the two metal appendages that caressed your upper legs, holding onto them as Otto watched your reaction, shivers climbing his spine at how utterly beautiful you looked under his attentions.
The Doctor’s words made you dizzy, words you had only ever dreamed of hearing in dream, now resonating into the open air around the both of you.
“Do you know how many times I had to remind myself that I couldn’t drag you to my desk, pin you down infront of everyone and remind you who your boss truly was?” Rough hands touching with such a reverent touch, as if memorizing the feel of your thighs against his fingertips. Another tentacle moved up and pressed against the side of your clothed breasts as if timidly, and immediately you moved to push your bra and shirt up, rewarded with a groan of his own against your wet thigh.
“Please… Do it Otto, remind me, please. Make me yours.” You begged, loving the way his laugh bounced off the walls of the lab like it once did in the past. Barely finished, you yelped out as his strong hands grabbed your hips, pulling you to the edge of the chair and into his awaiting tongue.
“Certainly my darling. My assistant needs to be reminded just who she belongs to.” He moaned between kisses and licks, watching you with rapt attention as you flushed brightly.
Dr Octavius wasted no time, tongue and lips devouring you with purpose and need, warm hands and tentacles holding you in place, kneading your skin with insatiable desire. The sounds that escaped you resembled a heavenly chant to Otto’s ears, groans equally escaping him.
You were already so close, teetering along the edge of oblivion at the sheer hunger he displayed for you. It almost felt like a dream, watching the famed and dangerous Doctor Octopus between your opened thighs, muttering sweet nothings into your soaked core. Hands rose away from the tentacles and held onto his hair, needing to feel him, to know this was really happening, to know he was really here. It was the right choice you thought, feeling him shiver in delight under your hold.
“Tell me darling, do you remember when that rich little asshole came up here and intruded on our work and hugged you oh so tightly infront of everyone?” Otto asked, withdrawing for but a moment to retract a hand from your hip and touch your core, waiting until you nodded to enter you slowly, kisses planted along the side of your thigh as you inhaled sharply.
You moaned in response as he picked up the pace softly, finger pumping in and out of you, smirking as he watched you nod enthusiastically as he added a second one.
“Oh how I dreamt it were me touching you instead. Though… Here I am now, fingers deep inside you and whose name is on your lips?” Otto whispered, eyes taking in every divine reaction as you approached your second orgasm, his own heart palpitating at the sounds you made for him and only him.
“Yours, only yours!” You mewled out, and just as Otto’s inner dam had crumbled, so too did yours, knowing deep within your stuttering heart that it would always be the ONLY name on your lips, no matter what.
“Repeat that for me, love?” He teased, the smirk he wore could be heard even as he occupied his mouth once more between your legs. You tried to answer, really tried to but couldn’t, heart hammering in your ears as you took in the sight him and knew he would be your end, cheeks flushing at how desperate he looked up at you.
Seeing him like this, panting between your thighs and watching you with eyes far too expressive made your heart ache with adoration. Just how deeply did his desire for you run? Was it like yours, unyielding and steadfast even after all these months, coursing through your heart and brain like a disease, staining everything, anything, and anyone you tried to replace it with?
“Don’t be shy, who’s lab coat are you wearing while fingering yourself Y/N? Say it, say it for me sweetheart.” Otto Octavius’ ragged voice asked you, begged, waiting. Brown eyes sparkled up at you, tongue against your core as his fingers crooked inside you and brought you beyond the edge.
“Otto!” You choked out, the hold on his hair turning too tight but he didn’t care, groaning in delight as you tensed under his tongue and came, his name the only thing you could whisper.
Moments in silence passed as you tried to catch your breath, shaking hands stroking Otto’s hair as he leaned his face against your thigh and laid sweet kisses on it, fingers retracting from you slowly.
His face of momentary shyness made your heart flutter as his claws handed him a box of tissues and held them out to you, looking away as you replaced your ruined panties over your soaked core.
It reminded you that despite everything, the bank robberies and attacks and all that had happened during your time apart, he was still himself, the same sweet Otto Octavius, hands rubbing soft patterns against your skin to help you come down from your high softly.
A sound echoed throughout the forgotten halls of the Oscorp building, making the man against you tense briefly. As if knowing it in advance, Otto bent forward, kissing your all too eager lips softly before standing to his full height, tentacles retracting slowly from your skin as if reluctantly, wanting to feel you longer.
“Hide yourself darling, wouldn’t want anyone else seeing you like this, now would we?” Dr Octavius winked, relishing in the way you listened and tried to make yourself as presentable as possible. Your eyes roved over his form one last time before he departed, certainly not missing the outline of his hard-on through his bottoms. He must have seen your wandering eyes, his perfect smile wide as he chuckled.
“Next time.” Otto whispered, exiting out the farthest door faster than you thought possible.
-
Silence reigned in the lab once more, your mind steady yet chaotic. You yearned to know why, of all times, had he finally come to see you now? Why, after nearly a full year, had he shown up now, beautiful smile and all?
Otto Octavius had once again come into your life by surprise, and had left the same way as before: without knowing just how much you were in love with him.
Though this time, it was different. There would never be a ‘Next time.’
-
The sound of soft footsteps rang out after a moment, leaving you with a feeling of dread within your stomach.
“Y/N?” Stuttered a man, frozen at the entrance to the lab, twin coffees in hand.
You hadn’t even noticed that you had started to cry, tears rolling down your cheeks effortlessly and heavily, the last hour replaying in your mind.
In Otto’s absence, the whole encounter felt like the last meeting between destined lovers, one last reunion before parting forever, never to see one another again. He, destined to forever crave only you against his tongue, and you, destined to silently forever crave only him within your heart.
“Sorry.. Give me a minute.” You asked, never turning in Dr Octavius’ chair to look back at the man.
You didn’t need to know what expression the man behind you would be wearing, concern practically radiating off of him through the air around you.
“You still… love him, don’t you?” Condolence was clear in his voice, and ever the gentleman, Peter Parker waited, never moving an inch further into the room.
“I…” You tried, throat tight as you turned the chair around, seated at Otto Octavius’ desk, and looked down at your hand.
Your engagement ring shined in the moonlight that filtered in the lab, eyes landing on your patient fiancé.
#so you guys still love me now#doc ock x reader#otto octavius x reader#I could say Im sorry *but am I*#doc ock#otto octavius#doctor octavius#doctor octopus#the scent of your coat fic#jossambird fic#minors dni#minor dni#F!reader
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Sunburst
Otto Octavius (Doctor Octopus) x F!Reader
Rated E - 2.7k words
Tags: fluff, a little angst, mentions of wounds, feelings, fingering, PiV, spitting, age difference, tentacle restraints, softDom!Doc Ock
Contains spoilers for Spider-Man: No Way Home
Summary:
“There’s some things I can’t change. Will never be able to. But there’s some things I can fix.”
There’s the clicking of metallic limbs, the icy chill you’ve come to recognize coming to rest below your chin, tilting your head up.
“Starting here.” He murmurs, and he’s leaning forward, his lips pressing against yours.
You were worried about him. You were always worried about him, the anxiety gnawing in your guts ever since you found him collapsed near the harbor. Shaking from anger and grief, it had taken hours of gentle coaxing and kind words to get him down the pier, and into the small apartment you rented just a few buildings down from the old abandoned laboratory.
You had holed up with him for days, cleaning the wounds on his back where the needles pierced his skin, where the metal chaffed his spine raw. It was a little… unusual - you had to admit it, but there were worse and stranger things in this world.
Otto was kind, you could sense it deep down, but there was an anger that would rise to the surface at times. Never at you, but at a memory, a part of his past you might never unlock. An enemy that only he could see.
He’s been gone for hours, and you've begun to imagine the worst. Otto’s been more riled up lately - disappearing for hours, coming back with scrapes and bruises, a wild look in his eyes. The empty space of that abandoned laboratory he rented was slowly becoming by filled with machines, and you didn’t know him well enough yet to know what he could afford, but it seemed like a lot.
Then came the muttering to himself, the slow creep of “we” into his vocabulary. You noticed it, of course you had, the way that “I’ll be back soon” gradually became “we’ll be back soon.”
The way you heard him answer questions you could not hear. It never seemed to turn off, only grow as time passed. Even in intimate, secrets moments between the two of you - the ice-cold arms winding around your limbs, pulling them spread-eagle on the mattress, his thick bulk between your thighs.
“We’ll be so good to you.” He’d sigh, tugging your thighs wider, your hips tilting until he’s grinding against that spot - your mouth open in a silent scream as you clench around him, “Take care of our dear girl, won’t we?”
But in those moments you didn’t care who he was talking to - just as long as he didn’t stop.
It’s late, the rain pounding on the roof of the apartment, the churning water outside smashing against the rocks. You’re in bed, the blankets pulled up, your knees against your chest as you watch the lightning arc across the sky, followed by a shattering burst of thunder.
But it’s not thunder - it’s the door, slamming against its hinges as Otto fills the doorway.
“Sweetheart.” He rasps, fingers clawing against the doorframe as he stumbles inside, his coat heavy and slick with rain.
Your feet are hitting the floor in a flash, but he’s already crossing the room to meet you, before coming to halt as you stand before him.
“Are you okay?” You ask, your eyes roving over him - something is off, something feels different -
“Yes, darling. I’m fine.” He looks at you like it’s the first time, discarding his glasses on the side table, his hand reaching out to touch your face, your lips.
“What happened?” You ask, your voice hushed, your heartbeat loud in your ears.
“I think…” He begins, but then trails off. Then his dark eyes are finding yours, “I think I was given a second chance tonight.”
Their sharp gaze turns cloudy, seeing something beyond you, “There’s some things I can’t change. Will never be able to. But there’s some things I can fix.”
There’s the clicking of metallic limbs, the icy chill you’ve come to recognize coming to rest below your chin, tilting your head up.
“Starting here.” He murmurs, and he’s leaning forward, his lips pressing against yours.
You don’t understand but you’re melting against him, fingers reaching up to twine into the leather lapels of his jacket, tugging to keep him close.
His hands move to rest on your hips, fingers kneading soft flesh, walking you backwards until you’re tumbling onto the bed. Otto sheds his coat, taking all but a second to drape it over a chair, to kick off his boots before he’s following you.
He’s bigger than you, taller and wider, your bed creaking with his weight as he moves on top of you. You roll beneath him, letting his thighs slot with yours, the weight of him welcoming as he leans down to kiss you again.
Otto’s mouth moves, worshiping your lips, moving to your chin, teeth scraping your jaw and then an earlobe.
You move against his bulk, your hips shifting until the seam of your leggings are catching just right, until the sharp spark of pleasure is lighting in your guts as cling to him.
“It’s like I’m waking from a dream,” He murmurs against your neck, his thigh coming to press and grind against your core, your fingernails sinking into his sweater. “But I was afraid that by waking, you’d be gone.”
“I’m right here.” And you pull his hand to your chest, lying it flat against until he can feel the thrum of your heart beneath your skin.
“You’ve always watched out for me.” He pulls back, the needy, grinding rhythm stopping, “I haven’t always been good to you, but I’m a changed man.”
Your head tilts up, your palm curving around the back of his neck to draw his face down, until his lips are pressing against yours, until your tongue is licking at the seam of his lips.
“Show me.” You whisper against his mouth, and that’s all he needs.
There’s six hands undressing you, pulling the oversized turtleneck off your head, the delicate tip of a tentacle unclipping your bra, another tugging the straps down your arms.
He’s pushing up on his knees with one hand, the other hooking fingers into your waistband, working with another metal appendage to tug the tight material down your legs.
The spark ignites into a flame - the ease at which he uses his arms to undress you making you ache, his thigh already making the soft spot between your thighs slick.
Otto watches you, spread out beneath him, body laid bare except for the scrape of lace covering your pussy. The metal creaks again, one long arm twisting until the closed, blunt tip is pressing down against your panties, inching forward until it’s bumping against your clit.
You moan, your hips jerking against the metal, until two more slide from behind him, their jaws opening wide to wrap around your thighs, pinning you down beneath him.
The tip runs another pass over your clothed slit, pressing more insistently now, a circling jerk when it reaches your mound, only to drag back down.
“Just look at you,” He moans, using the moment to pull the turtleneck from his shoulders, exposing the expanse of his bare, broad chest. “What am I going to do with you, sweetheart?”
“Touch me.” You whimper, your thighs jerking feebly against his grasp.
The tentacle makes a tight circle over your clit, and he smiles, “I thought I was, darling.”
Your whimper turns into a soft whine, “With your hands, baby, please.”
Otto groans at that, his fourth tentacle sliding beneath the band of your panties, the jaws opening to rip the fabric from your hips.
It’s not the first or last pair he’s ruined like that, and you can feel the hot pulse as he shuffles forward, his fingers sliding along your bare thigh to rest outside your entrance.
“You want me here?” He gently presses against your lips, the tip of a finger starting to slip inside.
“Please, fuck- Otto,” You’re begging now, with your eyes, with your lips, anything to get just a little more.
His hand shifts, his middle finger sinking inside to the knuckle, your moan of relief mixing with his as it starts to pump. You’re wet, thighs stained with arousal already, and it’s not long before he works a second finger inside, scissoring you open.
It’s all muscle memory, the way his fingers push and stretch a curl, until he’s pressing against that spot, his other hand coming to cup a breast, his thumb brushing over a stiff nipple.
“You’re always ready for me, aren’t you?” He’s said this to you before - his voice a harsh groan then, fingers tighter, an edge to his sharp movements.
But he says it in wonder now, looking at how you open up for him, the slick shine of his fingers as he pumps them in and out of you. The way you’re still here, after everything.
He thought you might be gone by the time he made it back. Maybe you still deserved to go, but before you did... he’d do this right.
The mechanical arm moves back into place, finding a rounded edge to rub against your clit, and he watches the way your back arches for him, the way you chant his name over and over.
You’ve missed him, and it’s too much, your face tilting so you can see him, your brows pinched as you moan, and you see it - the way he’s gazing at you, utterly entranced, the tight coiling in your belly about to snap.
“Don’t stop, I’m - I’m,” you’re babbling, needy and at the mercy of his fingers, the impending relief so close you can taste it.
“Come, sweetheart.” He almost pleads, needing this like you do, “Please, let me feel you.”
His fingers keep the same, steady pace, the circles at your clit so perfectly precise that it only takes that gasp of his voice to send you over. Your thighs flex under the metal arms, your moan loud as your pussy pulses around his fingers, the pleasure arcing up your spine.
He stays with his fingers buried in you until it’s too much, until you’re pushing him away with a huff of a laugh, your smile coming easier now.
The tentacles unfurl, and with shaking elbows you push yourself up, your fingers hooking in the loops of his belt.
“Can I?” You ask, but you know his answer, can see how he’s aching for you, the fabric pulled tight and tenting.
“Yes,” he breathes out, and then things shift with the way you whip his belt through the loops, fingers working the button and zipper.
Otto watches, completely at your mercy as you peel his trousers down his broad thighs, another tug freeing him completely.
His cock hangs thick and heavy between his thighs, the tip beaded with precum, and his whole body seems to clench when you reach out to stroke him.
Your fingers can barely wrap around as your hand pumps, and the low moan he makes when you pause to spit in your hand, lubing up your fist makes you clench down around nothing.
When your head dips to taste him, to run a tongue over the heavy vein, the curve of the tip, he curses, a long, drawn out “fuck” that seems to rumble from his chest.
He stops you when you go to fully take him in you mouth, not wanting to end the night just yet.
“How do you want me?” Otto asks, and it’s almost impossible to answer - you want him every way, all the time. How are you to choose?
But you manage, letting your fingers reluctantly drop, before turning yourself around on your hands and knees. Your back arches, thighs spreading as you lean forward to rest on your forearms, glancing back over your shoulder at him.
An invitation to continue.
He fists his cock, his other hand smoothing over the curve of your ass, dipping down to where you drip for him. Fingers run over your folds, collecting your release to slick his cock, a low groan in his throat as he covers himself in you.
The metal arms curl around you once more, stomach and thighs, the chill welcome against your hot skin. You can feel him line himself up, the blunt head of his cock pressing against your folds.
“Are you ready?” He asks, and you try to shift your hips back, to take more of him.
But he doesn’t push into you, instead his tentacles pull you back, impaling you onto his cock with a long, smooth motion. The stretch is familiar and sweet, your mouth open in a high moan as he fills up, tugging you back until your hips are flush with his, the curve of his belly pressing the swell of your ass.
Otto holds you to him, your fingers fisting in the sheets, thighs trembling at the fullness - waiting until you’re used to his size before he starts to move. A shallow thrust, and then another, until sliding himself almost all the way out, only to snap back into the tight warmth of your cunt.
Sometimes it’s those arms that do the work - he’d lean back, let them wrap around your hips and waist, lifting and dropping you down on his cock again and again until you’re whimpering and leaning into overstimulation. Or using them to hold you still, to warm his cock while he works, until he decides you’re ready for more.
But that’s not tonight. Tonight, he does most of the work, his hips setting the pace, rolling against yours until he find that spot again, the one that makes your eyes roll shut and your face bury in the mattress.
The pleasure is building again, the sounds of your moans and the wet squelch of your pussy taking him again and again filling the room adding to the fuel, and fuck - you know he’s going to make you come, this time around his cock.
He’s murmuring again, so low you can’t hear it over your moans, but it’s not to the “we” anymore. It’s to you.
How he never fully appreciated you. How you deserve someone who would, someone kinder and younger than himself. How if he was lucky, if there was a chance you’d stay, just stay, he’d make it up to you, a thousand times over.
For how could this be redemption, if you were not in it?
The tentacles tighten around your stomach, around your legs, helping pulling you back to meet his thrusts - but it’s his hands you feel, smoothing down your back, spreading you to watch where he buries his cock into you, how he stretches you wide around his girth.
It’s his hands that wind their way between your thighs, pressing and sliding against slick, soft skin, finding your clit and circling just right.
It’s his hands that bring to racing to the edge and then toppling over, his name a loud cry on your lips as the taut string snaps - as you clench and gush around his cock.
“Fuck. That’s it, that’s my girl.” He grunts, feeling the way you flutter tight and hot around him, causing his hips to stutter, causing even the rhythm of his mechanic limbs to fail.
“Christ, you feel so good coming on my cock,” Otto’s voice is low, rough and wrecked. “I’ve missed this, missed you-“
The bright bursts of light behind your eyelids start to fade, your limbs being heavy with your release. He’s not far behind, fingers gripping the flesh of your hips, his other limbs unwinding until it’s just you and him and the slap of his hips against yours.
“Sweetheart, I’m close,” He groans, and you can feel it, the way his thrusts turn shallower, pressing himself deep until he bottoms out. “Fuck, I’m going to come. Take it, take all of me-“
It’s only another thrust later before you feel him empty himself in you, the hot pulse of his cock within your walls, painting them with ropes of his release. Your name is like a prayer on his lips, a cry that pitches up at the end, his chest bending to press flush with your back, his face burying against your neck, his arm wrapping around you.
Otto stays buried in you, his thick thighs pressing flush with yours, his cock pressed deep until he stops leaking, until you’ve taken all that he can give.
You whimper when he pulls himself from you, but the arms are at work again, his body moving in tandem until he’s sitting back, propped up against the pillows, and you’re in his lap, curling into his thick chest.
Otto’s wide hands cradle your jaw, one thumb brushing the soft curve of your lip as you smile contentedly up at him.
“The power of the sun, in my palm of my hand.” He marvels, his eyes soft.
“I think I may have had it all along.”
-----
Notes: I had a crush in 2004, and boy howdy it's stuck around
#Did I watch the movie then rush home to write this? Yes#otto octavius x reader#otto octavius x you#doc ock x reader#doc ock x you#doctor octopus x reader#otto octavius
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Bad habits (Doc Ock x F!reader)
Word count: 4015
Rating: M (smut smut smut, also smoking a bit and drinking but mostly smuttt)
After a night out with Peter and MJ, you meet a stranger on the streets
(A/n: my first smut in a long time, though not bad, if I say so myself ahahaha. Here’s to all the doc ock simps out there)
‘Are you sure you guys are leaving already?! It’s only 3 am!’ you complained. You were having a drink with a few classmates of your who had started leaving gradually until for the last two hours it had been just you, Peter and MJ. But now they too were heading home.
‘It’s 3 am already Y/n!’ MJ complained. And who could blame them, they are assured they don’t have to spend the night alone.
You rolled your eyes, but you let them leave without further complaints. As they walk towards the door you shout after them, your alcohol fuzzed mind only now remembering this detail.
‘Hey who is going to pay for your drinks then?!’
‘We’ll pay you back tomorrow. Goodnight, Y/n~’ MJ and peter said, she held her arm linked in his as they passed by the bar window.
Now it was just you.
You mentioned towards the bartender, letting him know you were not leaving, just going out for a smoke. Bad habit, but no one was there to judge. Once outside you look left and right, making sure your friends really were gone, and then you lit a cigarette. The smoke filled your lungs at the first drag and the calming feeling from the nicotine mixed perfectly with the dizziness from the alcohol.
You looked down the street as you blew the smoke out, watching it fly up illuminated by the lights on the city centre. All around you could still hear people out, talking, shouting, drinking… it gave you a lonely feeling.
‘Excuse me?’
The voice behind you made you jump. You turned around quickly to see who had crept up at you at 3 in the morning. It was a tall man, eyes hidden by shades and a big smirk on his handsome face. His brown hair looked messy on his head, and he was wearing a big trench coat. In your dunk haze you don’t recognize the face of a man you’d seen in the news countless of times, robbing banks, wrecking a city, taking a girl hostage, and what not. To you, it was just a handsome stranger on the streets. A bit older, sure, but you weren’t complaining. Again, bad habit.
As you studied him you take another drag before speaking ‘can I help you?’.
He reached into an inner pocket from his big coat. In a split second you had pulled a knife out, holding it out in front of you blocking his hand from reaching outside of his coat again. Being Peter Parkers best friend meant you knew he was spider man, and he had taught you some tricks to defend yourself. Plus, wasn’t it just common sense as a woman alone at night to be able to defend yourself?
At your action he looked up at you, shocked at first but then realizing and letting out a soft chuckle.
‘I am so sorry, dear …’ he looked at you expectantly.
‘Y/n…’ you answered cautiously, curious where this was going.
‘Y/n…’ he tested your name before continuing, ‘I was just coming up to ask you for a lighter, I seem to have left my matches at home and I saw you standing there I thought I could try but I hadn’t realized how creepy it must’ve looked to you, a strange old man reaching into his coat…’ he spoke softly, trying to convince you he meant no harm. You drew your knife back slightly, giving him room to pull his arm out. He was holding a big cigar. As you realized he was no threat you quickly put away your knife. You can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous the situation was. At seeing you smile, he also let a chuckle escape his lips.
‘I’m so sorry,’ you say, handing him your lighter, ‘it’s been a long night.’
‘Oh yeah?’ he answers, taking the lighter and lighting up his cigar. ‘What is a girl like you doing out this late?’ he asks as he takes a drag of the cigar and handing you your lighter back.
‘I was out with friends, unfortunately they had to leave some time ago.’
‘Is everything alright here?’ The bartender comes out to ask. You’ve been a regular there for some time now and he noticed you talking to a stranger. But when he saw you two were just talking and smoking, he was reassured.
‘Yes, everything is fine.’ You reply, smiling up at the tall and handsome stranger you had just met.
‘It’s getting quite late, so I’m doing a last call. Can I get you two anything?’
You looked at your watch. Damn, you’ve been out there talking to this man for longer than you anticipated.
3.30 AM.
‘I’m afraid I’ve kept you out here in the cold long enough, dear. You can go back in, I’ll be on my way.’ The man says as he puts out the cigar put and drops in on the streets.
‘I could, yes. But,’ Is this a good idea? Probably not, but the alcohol had made you bold tonight. Plus, if the man had any dark intentions he would have already done as he pleased. ‘Why don’t you join me for a drink?’ you ask him.
He seems a bit taken aback by this, but he keeps smiling. He in intrigued by you.
‘Do you often have drinks with strangers you meet on the streets whom you first threaten with a knife?’ he asks, raising an eyebrow.
You had forgotten about your first impression. Then again, first impressions were almost always wrong. You couldn’t help but laugh at his words, there was something playful in his voice letting you know he was just being sarcastic.
‘I’d never ask if I met them any other way.’ You said with a wink. Feeling bold once again, you took his arm and dragged him into the bar. The bartender was already cleaning up some glasses when you walked in.
‘What can I get you two?’ the man behind the bar asked. You had been drinking beers with your friends all night, and you knew mixing alcohols was a bad idea, but what the heck, it was last call. You ordered a red wine and your newly met companion said ‘make it two’ before you sat down at one of the tables. The bar was as good as empty, only a handful of people were still sitting at a table in the far corner, looking quite scared at the sight of your companion. Why though? You’d only realize that later on.
‘I just realized, I never asked you your name!’ you say as the bartender comes up to your table to bring you your drinks. You immediately take a sip of it, the taste a nice contrast to the flavour of beer still lingering in your mouth.
‘You really don’t recognize me, do you?’ he says, pulling off his shades revealing his big brown eyes. Then something inside your brain clicked. The big coat, those eyes, the cigar… my god, you’re having a drink with Otto Octavius!
‘…. Wow.’ You say, taking this information in and while taking a big sip of your drink. Nevertheless, you sit back in your seat, crossing your legs and getting comfortable.
‘To what do I owe the honour of having a drink with doctor Octavius himself?’ You ask him, he lets out a huff.
‘I think we can leave the formalities behind us, sweetheart. Call me Otto.’ He shoots back.
‘Alright then,’ you continue, ‘Otto, what brings you here in the middle of the night?’. You rephrase your question.
‘Well, I won’t bother you with the gory details, but ever since the… accident…’ he starts, and for a minute you think he trailed off in thoughts. That is until you feel a cold metal actuator at your ankle, slowly moving up your calf, brushing your knee before setting on your thigh. You almost choke on your drink as you gasp in surprise. He chuckles ‘well, sleep does not come easy for me anymore.’ He continues, something in his demeanour has changed. His eyes look darker and more dangerous. It was also in his voice.
And it turned you on.
You should be freaked out, right? Doc Ock sitting opposite you in a bar at 3.30 in the morning with a blood alcohol level high enough you won’t be able to drive, not even tomorrow. But with one of the ends of the actuator rubbing circles on your thigh, you couldn’t care less.
You felt your cheeks redden at the contact, and Otto immediately notices.
‘Oh? That’s a change in behaviour right there. Something wrong, dear?’ He asks with a wolfish grin. You give him a look, trying to tell him to behave. The bartender was still looking over at the two of you every now and then. You hoped he couldn’t see or would not notice the actuator still gripping at your thigh.
The two of you made some more light conversation, all the while he kept his actuator on your leg, but it never moved. The red wine made you yearn for contact, he could see it in your eyes. Your pupils grew bigger by the minute and by the time your glasses were empty, the conversation you two had died down in tension. You both could feel it.
‘I am going to freshen up for a bit, will you still be here when I come back?’ you ask- no, beg him. It is written all over your face that you want him. He knows. His actuator lets go of your leg to allow you to stand up.
‘I wouldn’t dream of leaving, sweetheart.’ He said with a wink. You stood up and walked towards the bathroom, stumbling slightly as you did so. When you washed your hands, you looked at yourself in the mirror. Is this happening? Your head is spinning a bit but not too much.
You shut the water off and reach into your bag to re-do your make up a bit, you hadn’t touched it up since 10 pm. The washroom was quiet except for a radio quietly streaming some pop music.
My bad habit lead to late nights ending alone,
Conversations with a stranger I barely know,
Swearing this will be the last but it probably won’t
I got nothing left to lose, or use, or do
You laugh at the speaker. Nice timing.
When you walk back into the bar you see Otto getting ready to leave. He eyes you up and down as you walk towards him.
‘You look stunning.’ He says, there is a hungry tone in his voice, and it goes straight to your core.
‘Easy, tiger.’ You respond with a wink as you turn to the bartender to pay off your tab. You pull out your wallet, but the man puts a hand on it. ‘No need, miss. Your friend here already paid.’
You turn to Otto. ‘You shouldn’t have! I got this. How much do I owe you?’ you ask, ready to hand him the money.
‘A drink is all you owe me, darling. And I can think of another way you could repay me...’ He says. Smooth piece of…
You put your wallet back in your purse, grumbling something about ‘masculinity’ and ‘independent women’, making Otto smile. You wave goodbye at the bartender before leaving the bar, the door locks behind you.
‘So, what happens now?’ you ask Otto, not sure where to go from here.
‘If you want,’ he starts, standing directly in front of you now and placing his hands on your waist, he leans in so his mouth is right next to your ear ‘we could go back to my place?’.
You shudder at the idea. You want this. You want him. And it sure looks like those feelings are mutual.
You don’t know if it was the alcohol or some primal need for human touch controlling you, but instead of answering you pull back a bit, placing your hands on his coat as you pulled him in for a kiss. It was needy, teeth clashing as you both pulled at each other trying to get closer.
‘Get a room!’ some thug down the street yelled at you two. Big mistake. Before even breaking the kiss one of the actuators was zooming towards the man, gripping him tightly and pulling him towards you. Otto steps back so you are not near the guy when the actuator approaches.
‘Who do you think you are? Hmm? Big boy out on the streets at night.’ Otto snaps, the light on the inside of the actuator turning red. The man was too stunned to speak.
‘Otto let him go please.’ You say softly grabbing his arm. ‘Don’t let this idiot ruin the night, we should be going to your place now, not picking a fight with a stranger on the streets.’
His eyes soften at your touch, and the actuator loosens up just long enough for the man to escape its clutch and run away down the street.
Otto looks at his back until he is out of sight, then turns to you. ‘So, you want to come back to my place, huh?’ he says. All you can do is nod. He grabs your chin and pulls you closer to his face. ‘Use your words, pet.’
‘Yes’, your voice is so soft you were pretty sure he hadn’t heard you. But then he leaned closer, whispering in your ear ‘good girl’ before kissing you passionately once more. He swooped you up into his arms and let the actuators carry you both to his place. You held your arms around his neck as the actuator took you to his apartment as quickly as possible.
While the actuators moved the two of you around, you moved your head to kiss his neck. Otto gasped in surprise, but the actuators took it as a sign to move faster, and within no time you were inside his appartement, the metal appendages frantically opening and closing doors until you were in his bedroom.
When you finally stood back on the ground you immediately pulled him down again, kissing him hungrily. You quickly unzipped and threw your coat to the side before your hands snaked around his neck as his hands landed on your waist, already feeling up your sides under your shirt. You pushed his coat of his shoulders, he was wearing a black shirt underneath.
You pushed him back onto the bed, so he was sitting on the edge while you went to straddle his hips before reconnecting your lips. One of his hands went down to your waist while the other made it’s way to your hair, tugging at it. You moaned at the sensation, and he slipped his tongue in your mouth. His other hand on your waist guided your hips so you would grind down on his, which you happily did.
You felt his erection through his leather trousers, and to say he was well endowed was an understatement. You gripped his shoulders to grind down on him more easily. The friction was enough to satisfy the aching of your clit, but you needed more. Your hands slid down his shirt, trying to tug it off of him.
‘Not yet, be patient my dear.’ He said in a husky voice. Your head dropped to his shoulder as you grind down on him more forcefully, needing more friction. Then suddenly he pushed you off of him. You stood in front of him with a questioning look on your face. Had you done something wrong?
‘Do not forget who is in charge here.’ He said, his pupils were dilated, and he had that hungry look in his eyes again. It made your knees weak.
‘Strip for me.’
You immediately did as you were told. His power over you was clear. You swayed your hips lightly to the song still playing in your head from earlier.
You took your shirt off sensually, gripping the bottom and pushing it up slowly. You paused a bit before pushing it over your chest and off of you. Otto growled at the sight of your black lace bra. You took of your trousers in the same slow fashion, leaving you in just your black lace lingerie set.
My bad habits lead to wide eyes stare into space
And I know I'll lose control of the things that I say
Yeah, I was lookin' for a way out, now I can't escape
Nothin' happens after two, it's true, it's true
My bad habits lead to you
You thought Otto couldn’t get more feral looking than he was when you started to strip.
You were wrong.
Something took over in him, as if he wasn’t already in full control of the situation. You stopped stripping, curious if this was stripped enough or if he meant all the way. But before you could ask him, he was up already. His hands were all over you, touching your almost fully exposed frame like a starved man. His lips were on yours again, and it was pure passion.
You hadn’t noticed one of the actuators going up behind you to unhook your bra, but before you knew it the garment had joined your other clothes on the floor. He kissed down you neck, sucking at that one spot that made your knees even weaker. Your fingers curled in his dark locks. Otto moved further down, taking one of your nipples in his mouth while his fingers played with the other one. You threw your head back as you pulled him closer to your chest, moaning out his name as you did.
Hearing you say his name made him lose it completely. He switched you two around and pushed you onto the bed. There was no need to use his actuators to do this, he is a strong man. Then his lips connected back on your neck, making you arch you back. Your hips started to grind, trying to find any relieve for the aching. Before you found any his hands had pinned you down firmly on the mattress.
‘I said ‘be patient’, sweetheart.’ His words made you moan. You were like putty in his hand. You were about to protest when you felt his hands on your hips hooking his fingers into your panties. Before you could lift your hips to let him take them off, he ripped them right off your body. You gasped at the cold air hitting your core.
‘Now, I want you to lay still for a bit wile I have my fun. Don’t you dare hold back those beautiful sounds.’ He whispered in your ear. You nodded, understanding his command and lightly arching your back when he went down your body to flick your nipples once more. You were whimpering desperately, needing him. The contrast of his still clothed body on your naked form made you shiver.
Then he kissed further down your belly, and you felt a finger go through your folds, from your entrance to your clit, collecting your juices before starting to rub slow circles on your clit. The friction and relief of finally being touched made you cry out his name, followed by a few curses and moans. This man knew what he was doing alright.
He keeps kissing further and further down, until he swiftly replaces his fingers with his tongue. Once again you moan out his name and throw your head back. He licks and sucks at your clit in the most perfect ways, his hands wrapping around your legs to lift them over his shoulders and keep them there. You were completely at his mercy.
Within a few moments you could feel your legs starting to shake. He noticed it too and smiled while quickening his pace. Your hands gripped his hair pushing him into you a bit more.
‘Fuck… Otto… Don’t stop’ you moan out. He didn’t stop and you feel your orgasm crashing down on you. Waves of pleasure made your back arch, and your legs shake. But he had a strong hold on your legs, keeping you in place while he keeps eating you out. You were an overstimulated mess. Moaning and weakly trying to push him away with your hands, but he was stronger.
You were forced to lie back as your vision went white with pure extasy. Only when your muscles have out and your orgasm has finally died down to small shocks he stops, wiping his mouth on his sleeves as he moves back up to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and you love it.
While you were trying to collect yourself after your high, Otto undressed himself. You felt yourself being moved up the bed by his actuators and placed with your head upon a pillow. Then he was on top of you. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, placing your hand on his neck to pull him in for a kiss. He waited a bit longer, just kissing you until your breathing was back to semi-normal again.
Then he pushed his fully erect cock against your folds, moving up and down to collect some of your juices from your previous orgasm. You were still sensitive from that one and moaned into his mouth as you felt him. He keeps repeating that motion a few more times before you speak up.
‘Please, Otto, fuck me’ you moan out.
‘Once again, I said ‘be patient’’ he chuckles making you groan out in frustration. Then he moves his lips against your neck again. ‘But seeing as you asked so nicely…’ he adds and suddenly thrusts into you. You both moan out, he was stretching you in the best way possible while the feeling of you around him made his head spin.
He gives you the time you need to adjust to his size, and when you start bucking your hips, he takes it as his sign to start moving. You were still lightheaded from your previous high, but you could feel the coil in your abdomen start to tighten again. Otto pounding into you mercilessly, he is close already. You can feel his cock twitching slightly inside you as he moans your name in your neck.
‘Cum for me, Otto’ you whisper to him. and you can feel him let go. He finishes inside you, your name on his lips as he reaches his high. You once again didn’t notice the actuator moving until you felt a vibrating sensation against you clit, making the coil inside tighten once again. Otto is still inside you, trying to regain his breath.
‘Come on, baby, I know you can give me one more.’
His words are enough to snap the coil. Once again waves of pleasure roll over you as your vision blurs with tears of pleasure as his name falls from your lips in a weak moan. The actuator stays in place until you rode out your high on it. Then Otto falls onto the bed next to you.
You both lay there in silence for a few minutes, calming your breathing and basking in the afterglow. The room now smells of the husky scents of sex. Then Otto turns to face you, brushing hair of your face as he does.
‘Do you maybe want to stay the night?’ He asks, and you raise your eyebrows in surprise. His demanding behaviour of earlier seemed completely gone.
‘I don’t want to overstay my welcome, Otto.’ You sigh, brushing his cheek with your thumb.
‘It’s nearly morning already, I think it’ll be okay.’ He chuckles, making you laugh slightly.
You curl up into him. ‘Alright then, no harm in staying.’ You yawn out. It is very late already indeed. His arms wrap around you as you suddenly felt the tiredness of the long day, combined with the alcohol and your previous activities weigh down on you.
And that is where you fell asleep, Otto following suit. That night the both of you had the best sleep you’d had in a while.
#doc ock x reader#doc ock x you#doc ock smut#otto octavius x reader#otto octavius x you#smut#alfred molina
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Just a soft Doc Ock X F!Reader fic. I was picturing Comic!Otto while writing this but I guess you can insert whichever Doc you want if you squint. Otto seems to love kids in the comics so I'm like, LET THIS MAN BE A DAD. So here you go! Also I live for comments!
....
"Otto..."
It's storming outside, something major with slamming thunder and lightning that touches the skyscrapers. Rain pelts against the floor-to-ceiling industrial windows of your makeshift livingroom. You can tell it's cold beyond the fogged glass, but in this little home you've made in this warehouse, surrounded by all of his hard work - his experiments - it's so, so warm. Warm enough that it makes you want to melt right through the floor.
"Did you hear me?"
Oh he heard you, alright. Otto has this silent dumbstruck look on his face, and for a moment you fear that you've made the wrong choice. About telling him. Being with him. Getting mixed up with a criminal like him. How stupid could you be? A dumb girl with lofty dreams that maybe one day the two of you could build something together that wasn't designed to take over the world. God you just want to drop it all and run away.
"I- I heard you," he says, blinking, "You're-"
"You're going to be a dad, Otto."
Before you can doubt yourself further, he's on you. Three sets of arms wrap themselves around you as he collapses to his knees, pulling you in tight. The mechanical arms are still surprisingly gentle despite having the power to rip anything to pieces (you don't like to think about that too much, though).
He rests his head against your abdomen.
"Please tell me you're not lying." You're almost offended for a moment, but it soon passes. You've come to learn that beyond the mask of egotism, Otto is a conduit of self-doubt. A sad little man with a deepset insuperiority complex that you somehow haven't managed to love away with kind words amd reassuring touches.
"I'd never lie to you. I wanted to tell you as soon as I was sure."
"And you are sure?" He looks up to you like you're the most divine thing he's ever seen and there's a certain power to bringing a man like him to this position, humbled before you, in love with you. You run your hands through his dark brown hair, messing up his silly haircut in the process.
"Pretty damn sure, yeah."
He smiles. You smile. Everything seems perfect in this moment, from the way he holds you, to the forgotten take out on the coffee table, to the singular glass of wine sitting on a nearby workbench. Not even a building-shaking clap of thunder could ruin this moment.
He releases you, stands. There may have been a faint sniffle and the wiping of an eye. "I guess I'll have to quit smoking," he says.
You look around at his creations, suddenly emboldened, "You might need to quit a lot of things, Otto."
He looks pointedly at you. But now isn't the time to fight. To argue. To bring up Spider-Man or his never ending goal of besting the web-slinger.
Because right now, it's all about the two of you and the third addition he never thought he'd be deserving of.
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