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reese-tasteslikepepsicola · 4 months

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Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Naked part 2

! READ PART 1. Link down at the very end of this post <3 !

Summary: After Peter sees you naked, he cant stop thinking about it, it’s the only thing he can think about.

Warnings: Peter is a charming loser Mentions of reader being curvy (Srry I’m giving my curvy girls love), kinda smutty but not? Kissing, groping, alcohol consumption. Based on New Girl <3

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Peter lays on his bed, his head wondering to the night before.

Your naked body remains imprinted in his head like a picture, he can remember every detail about.

Your curves, your breasts that he would’ve respectfully grabbed if you let him—if Lauren wasn’t there watching in horror, and your cute ass.

If you told him to get on his knees, kiss your ankles and go down on you, he would do it in an instant—if Lauren wasn’t there.

Peter came to the conclusion at that very moment that he wanted—needed you in his arms at all times.

He didn’t want to just have sex, he wanted to be your boyfriend and treat you like how you should be treated.

Anytime you crossed his mind, his face would heat up and he’d start smiling and kicking his feet like a schoolgirl—it was pissing him off.

You guys always made it clear that you enjoyed being friends and taunting each other for fun.

You both argue too much and are constantly at each other’s throats, something romantic could never happen…right?

You hadn’t spoken to him since you…flashed him with Lauren being there. You were too embarrassed to leave your room after that, refusing to leave your room until Lauren had left and broke contact with Peter.

Deciding to swallow down your worry and embarrassment, you hesitantly knocked on Peter’s door,

“Come in!” Opening the door, you slapped your hand on your closed eyes,

“You don’t have to cover your eyes, y/n. I told you to come in” Peter stated, pretending to be annoyed at your presence even though he was actually waiting for you to come talk to him since the incident,

“Sorry! Just thought we’ve both seen enough nudity these past couple of days” Peter let out a chuckle and nodded, sitting at the edge of his bed with his arms crossed and his legs man spreading, looking up at you,

“I came in here to um—talk?” He raised an eyebrow and smirked,

“Talk?” You nodded and whistled, looking around his room awkwardly,

“Yep!” He sat there, waiting for you to say something, his head cockily tilting to the side,

“Your probably wondering why I was laying naked on the floor in your bedroom last night” You said.

He nodded and pursed his lips, hiding a smile,

“You cock blocked me and scared away a poor, innocent girl” He said, laughing. Rolling your eyes, you slapped his chest,

“I know! I feel so bad. She’ll forever know me as the scary naked girl who was hiding in her sneaky link’s bedroom” He shook his head and laughed again,

“I was trying to make it even between us, y’know? I saw your naked body, and I’ll show you my naked body!” You explained. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed,

“Yeah, I get why you did that. Why’d you have to do it when Lauren was coming over, though?” He teased, smirking up at you. You scoffed and shoved him by the forehead,

“I didn’t know she was coming over! You could’ve given the group chat a heads up!” He nodded and stared at the ground,

“So, did you like…see my, y’know…kitty cooter?” You asked awkwardly, poking at his shoulder with a grin.

He cringed and groaned at the word you used,

“I did! I saw everything. Also—kitty cooter? Just call it a vagina at that point” It was your turn to cringe and groan,

“Ew! The word ‘vagina’ sounds absolutely terrible coming out of your mouth, Parker. Never use that word around me again” He scoffed and threw his hands up in defence,

“Geez! Sorry for calling it the scientifically correct name. Never use ‘kitty cooter’ around me again, alright?”

“Since when did you have friends that weren’t me?” Peter asked Ned, as he glanced around the loft that was filled with at least thirteen people,

“I can have friends that aren’t just you. Surprise!” Ned said, scoffing,

“You could’ve asked y/n, Mj and I that you were going to throw a fucking party, dude” He shrugged and grabbed a beer from the fridge, handing it to Peter,

“Didn’t know I had to ask for permission, Daddy” Peter scrunched up his face and took a swig of the beer,

“Whatever” He leaned against the fridge and continued sipping it, starting to wonder where you and Mj were,

“What the hell?!” There you were.

You and Mj had shopping bags in your hands, struggling to hold them all as you scanned the loft full of people in annoyance,

“Who let humans in our loft!” Mj yelled over the music, catching your shoulder with her free hand when you began to lose balance in your steps,

“Let me help” Peter jogged over to you both and grabbed some of the bags,

“Did you invite these people, here? I thought we were your only friends, Parker” You said. He rolled his eyes and slung your purse over his shoulder with sass,

“I didn’t know about this party, either. Ned invited them without telling us” Mj groaned and dropped the bags on the floor,

“I hate it here. I’m going to my room and not coming out until these people leave” She walked away down the hall to her bedroom. You began following along behind her,

“I’m doing the same” Peter trailed behind you like a lost puppy, now holding every single bag you brought home. Getting into your room, you shut the door and pointed to your bed,

“Put the bags there, Bug-boy” He tossed the bags,

“Gently!” You shoved him out the way and double checked that nothing in them broke,

“You’re welcome, Princess” Peter scoffed, sitting down in your fluffy pink chair, leaning back and stretching his arms above his head.

You turned around to face him and almost gasped as his happy trail was showing from where his shirt lifted up. Your attention then focused to how his big muscles flexed through his white shirt.

Jesus Christ.

“So…big” You mumbled as you stared at him. He raised an eyebrow,

“What was that?” Your eyes widened,

“Nothing! I didn’t say anything! Shut up the fuck up” He snorted and ran a hand through his hair,

“Where’d you and Mj go today?” He asked, now manspreading.

Can he stop sitting like a bitch, for fuck sake?

“Uh—we went to Sephora, Walmart, the food court and Victoria Secret. When we were at Victoria Secret this old lady called me a whore for looking at this lingerie set that looked like two tiny triangles and a string of floss” You rolled your eyes at the memory.

He laughed and stood up, walking over to you,

“Aw, that sucks. Old people, am I right?” He wrapped his arms around you, giving you a hug. You froze before nuzzling into his arms, sighing contently with your eyes closed, sniffing his armpit,

“Did you just sniff my armpit?” He asked. You could hear a smile in his voice,

“Pffttt—no, I’m not weird” He smirked and hugged tighter, his bicep now completely covering your face.

Is he doing this on purpose?

“You are pretty weird” You hummed to what he said, not recalling paying attention to anything but him.

“Never let go” The words left your mouth before you could really stop them,

“What?”

“Chug, chug, chug, chug!” Everyone chanted as you and Peter were seeing who could chug down a beer faster. You managed to finish first which had everybody cheering and a couple of people ruffling your hair,

“Lick me, Parker!” You yelled, shoving his shoulder. Peter groaned and tossed the can away,

“I wish” He whispered to himself, but smiling as he watched you awkwardly dance in victory to the Pitbull song playing,

“Let’s play a game!” Ned yelled, drunkenly slinging an arm around your shoulder.

“We close our eyes and hold up a number on our fingers, and then on the count of three we open our eyes. Whoever is holding up the same number has to kiss!”

You and Ned sat next to each other while Peter sat across from you, next to a girl named Emily while she sat across from Ned.

Everyone was slowly starting to form little groups, playing different games together since it was still early in the night. You and Peter somehow got roped into playing this stupid game together,

“What are we, twelve?! This game is so stupid” You complained. Peter nodded along to what you were saying,

“Exactly! Also, Ned, I’m not kissing you if we hold up the same number” Ned scoffed,

“Why are you acting like we’ve never made out, before, Peter?” You looked at the both of them confused,

“Wait—

“We never kissed! Anyways, I’m only gonna play if y/n plays” He said, shrugging and staring you down nonchalantly. You squinted your eyes at him and looked over at Emily and asked,

“You playing?” She shrugged and then nodded,

“Okay, cool. I’m playing, then” Peter smiled and leaned forward so that his face was only inches from your’s,

“Damn. I guess I’m playing as well” Your breath hitched at his low tone,

“Yep! I’m playing, too” You repeated, mentally slapping yourself at your weird behaviour,

“Right. I’m gonna play, yep” He said back, now both of you becoming awkward once you guys realized how close your faces were,

“Ahem!” Emily cleared her throat in annoyance, breaking you guys out of your odd, repetitive conversation,

“Everybody shut your eyes, please!” You all did so before Ned began to count,

“Alright, open your eyes” Emily and Ned both had two fingers held up,

“Sweet!” He whispered under his breath before leaning in to kiss Emily.

Peter couldn’t hide his discouraged self when he opened his eyes to see that you both were holding up different.

After two more rounds of just Ned and Emily holding up the same number every time, Peter was getting fed up,

“I’m getting tired of watching you guys kiss, y’know” He said, still staring at you. In fact, he hadn’t stopped staring at you this whole game, this whole night,

“Honestly, me too. At this point, I’ll kiss anyone!” You stated, staring at everybody who was in the room, except for Peter himself. He couldn’t help but frown at that, now feeling like his feelings were one-sided,

“Fine! One more round, okay?” Ned said, closing his eyes and starting to count down to three,

“Open your eyes!” Coincidentally, you and Peter were both holding up four fingers. His heart sped up as he began to blush, but his face fell when he heard your groan and throw your head back,

“No way! I’m not kissing him!” He began to become defensive now, his way of hiding his hurt feelings,

“Well, I don’t want to kiss you either, y/l/n! And by the way, you said you’d kiss anyone!” You rolled your eyes and stood up,

“Whatever! Goodnight” Peter stood up as well in a hurry,

“Goodnight, as well!” He began to trail behind you as you made your way to the hallways to your bedroom,

“Why are you following me?!” You yelled, turning around and flailing your arms,

“I don’t know!?” He yelled back as you guys made your way to your room, the door being slammed shut by Peter,

“Why are you in my room!?”

“I don’t know!?”

You both stood there, simply staring at each other with squinted eyes,

“I didn’t even want to join the party. I just wanted to watch a movie and go to bed ” you mumbled, sighing heavily and sitting on the floor at the foot of your bed, leaning your back against it.

Peter did the same, sitting next to you, his head falling back against the frame,

“Damn. I wanted to invite Lauren over” You whipped your head around to look at him with a scowl, to end up seeing that he was grinning and looking at you already.

He was teasing you.

You rolled your eyes and bumped his shoulder,

“Not funny, Peter” He doesn’t know why, but the way his name rolled off your tongue had his spidey-senses tingling, his ‘Peter-tingle’ is what May would call it.

An awkward silence fell between you both. There had been many awkward silences since the ‘incident’ a couple of days ago. You guys saw each other naked for god’s sake! That would make any roommates and friends feel awkward for a bit, but it was coming up on a week that you and Peter had that unresolved tension.

Almost like you were reading his mind, you started to speak,

“There’s this weird feeling between us” He glanced over at you and pursed his lips,

“I kinda miss the old us, y’know? The us before we saw each other naked and vulnerable” You let out a small giggle at the end of your sentence. He smiled and scratched his eyebrow while nodding,

“No—yeah, I get what you’re saying” You leaned your head on his shoulder, catching him by surprise,

“I just thought that if I showed you my naked-self back it’d make things less awkward and have everything go back to being—normal?” He let go of a long breath he didn’t know he was holding in, and leaned his cheek on top of your head,

“It did kind of take away my embarrassment…but—

He cut himself and bit his lip,

“But, what?” He puffed out his cheeks and and rubbed his chin.

Just say how you feel, Peter.

“It took away my embarrassment but—it also made me feel things?” You grew confused and raised your head from his shoulder to look at him,

“Feel things?” He looked down in shyness,

“Like—I couldn’t get you off my mind after I saw you in my room…naked” Your face became hot to the touch at his words,

“Not just your naked body, by the way! You’re so much more than your body! What I mean is that—

“Everybody is leaving!” Ned swung the door open, cutting Peter off,

“Oh! Finally” you quickly stood up and sprinted out the room, leaving Peter there to sulk on your bedroom floor,

“You gonna come and say goodbye?” Ned questioned, giving the Spider-boy a weird look,

“Just leave me alone to die”

“Um—okay. What an odd thing to say”

After saying goodbye and doing your nighttime routine in the bathroom, you made your way to your bedroom to find that Peter was no longer in there,

“What a weird night” You whispered to yourself, flopping down on your bed.

You started to think about what Peter had said before, about not being able to stop thinking about your naked body.

The way he said it, in such a nervous but charming way, had you clenching your legs together while replaying it in your head. Did you really have that much of an effect on his mind? Did he like you?

I mean, he did say it wasn’t just your body that he was thinking about. What would he have said if Ned didn’t open the door?

Meanwhile, Peter was in his room at his desk with his head in his hands, his head running wild with thoughts as well,

“You’re so stupid, Peter. You should’ve never said anything to her in the first place” His foot tapped on the ground anxiously, trying to decide if he should never talk to you again (which he knew was not possible and too dramatic), or if he should walk across the hall to your room and tell you everything he has been feeling.

Needing a distraction, you felt around for your phone on your bed, to your end table, and then groaned in annoyance when you remembered you forgot it in the bathroom,

“My god!” You lazily got out of bed and went to the bathroom, grabbed your phone, and started the seemingly endless walk back to your room,

“Holy shit!” You screamed in fear, placing a hand on your chest.

There stood Peter in the hallway,

“Sorry! It’s just me! It’s Peter!” You rolled your eyes and rubbed your forehead,

“Yeah, I know it’s you. Just—why are you standing like slenderman in the middle of the hallway?” He glared at you and ran a hand through his hair,

“I wanted to talk to you but, you look tired and annoyed so, I’ll just let you go to sleep, or whatever” You straightened your back and blinked, your heartbeat beginning to beat rapidly at his words,

“Yeah?”

“Yeah”

Peter could sense your heartbeat deep in his ears and a smell that he couldn’t really put a name on, but he liked it, and he knew it meant you were excited. It’s times like these where he’s happy that he is spider-Man. The hairs on his neck stood up as he stepped a little closer to you,

“Your heart is beating really fast” He started to feel cocky as he watched you look down to avoid looking into his face, and how the smell of your arousal was becoming more intense. He placed his hand on your chest,

“Peter” He raised an eyebrow and smirked,

“Yeah?” You cleared your throat and awkwardly looked to the side,

“Your hand is on my boob. That is not my heart” His eyes widened as his cocky demeanour disappeared. He went to snatch his hand away, but to both of your guy’s embarrassment, his hand remained stuck to you,

“Um—

He tried taking it off again,

“I’m starting to think this is not your spider-ness, or whatever. I think you just wanted an excuse to keep your hand on my boob forever” His eyes bulged out of his head and continued to try and take his hand off,

“I did not do it on purpose! I’m sticky! It’s apart of me!” You slapped a hand on your forehead, and grabbed his wrist to make him stop pulling,

“Stop! Rip my shirt off” His face flushed at your words,

“I’m—what?”

“You heard me. You’ve already seen me naked, so just rip it off and we can—talk?” He nervously chuckled at your words,

“Are you sure? Cause—

“Peter”

“Okay, sorry! I’ll just—

A loud tearing sound could be heard,

“Wow”

He stared at your chest, suddenly getting déjà vu, but this time you were wearing a pretty white bra that had a small bow in the front instead of being completely naked.

You crossed your arms over your chest,

“Are we gonna talk, or?” You trailed off, whispering and looking up into his eyes. He sucked in a deep breath and looked into your eyes as well,

“I, uh—we still haven’t kissed. We held up the same number, remember?” He said, walking so close to you that your back was almost against the wall.

Your ripped shirt that was still hanging from his hand finally detached, plopping onto the floor at your feet,

“Peter?” You whispered, biting your lip,

“Fuck” Peter grabbed your bare waist and pressed his lips onto your’s, a surprised gasp coming from you. You placed your arms on his shoulders and practically melted into him.

He felt relief when you didn’t pull away, instead tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging, grinding into him desperately. Remembering that you were still a human who has to breathe, you pulled away and took a deep, shaky breath, Peter as well. You glanced into each other’s eyes, chest moving rapidly,

“I like you” He whispered, gulping. You grinned and pull him back in by his face to your lips. His hands were now experimenting, rubbing your lower back, the straps of your bra, and then your breasts. He let out a high pitch pathetic moan when he squeezed them,

“I cant believe I’m squeezing your boobs right now” you snorted against his lips at his loser-like way of saying it.

You let out a gasp when he unexpectedly picked you up bridal style like you weighed nothing, his super-human strength causing your mind to lead to very sinful thoughts,

“I think it’s so hot your spider-man—and so, strong” You blurted out, staring up at his brown eyes as he kicked your bedroom door open. He smirked at that and gently laid you down on your bed. He stood at the foot of the bed and shrugged, flexing his biceps (on purpose),

“Thanks. I can lift cars and buildings, too. S’like, no big deal or whatever” He looked down at his feet and scratched the back of his neck,

“Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you gonna like—come here and have sex with me— or?”

“Right! Shit, yeah! Um—

He took his shirt off, hurriedly pulled down his pants and let out an embarrassing girl-ish scream when he tripped over his pants and fell on the ground with a loud thud,

“Oh my god! Peter, are okay?!” His head popped up,

“Yep! Totally good! Don’t even worry about!”

He dove on the bed and made himself comfortable between your legs, making you giggle at his enthusiasm. You guys went back to making out, his kisses beginning to trail to your neck, shoulder, breasts, and stomach. He slowly slid your pyjama shorts down your legs and tossed them behind him. He placed a hand on your boob and the other in your underwear,

“Oh! Peter!” He raised an eyebrow and smirked,

“Wow, barely touched you and your already screaming my name” You screamed his name again and pointed to the window,

“No, Peter! You threw my new expensive shorts out the window!”

END

Author: I cut my bangs too short so now I’m going to class everyday with these short fuck-ass bangs

Here’s part 1 down below

583 notes · View notes

deviouz · 6 months

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. . . soft dom!peter headcanons !!

soft dom!peter is truly attentive. he lives for your pleasure, always going out of his way to give you exactly what you need, no matter what. he knows each and every one of your erogenous zones are, where to poke and prod to have you keening high in the back of your throat.

“yeah? you want me to touch right here, baby? don’t worry, sweet girl, i’ll give you just what you need, yeah?”

soft dom!peter who can’t stand when you go out of your way to deliberately disobey him or act bratty. he just hates to deliver punishments, but what choice do you leave him when you bark out such unkind insults with that sharp tongue of yours? it’s almost like you want him to bend you over his lap and spank all of that attitude out of you.

“just couldn’t keep that pretty little mouth of yours shut, hm? god, i can’t stand seeing you cry, but i have to keep that attitude in check. now, don’t make this harder than it has to be and bend over.”

soft dom!peter who will sing you praise after praise until you’ve gone shy and whiny and feel light headed due to the blood rushing to your face. he’ll praise you at any given moment, whenever the mood arises, simply because he can, and he holds you dearly to his heart.

“there’s my sweet girl. you’ve been good for me today, yeah? ‘course you have, always so fuckin’ good for me. c’mere, baby, i think you deserve a reward.”

soft dom!peter loves how easily it is to get you all flustered and desperate for whatever kind of touch he’ll give you. he’ll get you all riled up, until your hips can’t help but move on their own accord, drooling cunt rubbing against his thigh like there’s no tomorrow. he’ll smile real sweet, hands dancing along your waist and hips, giddy at the thought of you coming undone yet yearning for more.

“c’mon, sweetheart, use your words and tell me what you want. aw, what’s wrong? is your brain too fuzzy to think clearly? poor thing, let me take care of you.”

soft dom!peter who holds your hands when he eats you out. tucked between two pretty and plush thighs, he’ll have you trying to push him away when it gets to be too much. you’ve already came three times, yet he hasn’t relented in the slightest. it’s almost like you can see his smirk as he peers up, face covered in slick and hair a mess.

“i think you’ve got one more in you, darling. you know i can’t help myself — you just taste too damn good, especially when you moan so prettily. be a good girl and give me another one, okay?”

likes + reblogs heavily encouraged and appreciated!!

#. . . my fics 💌#. . . peter parker 💭#marvel x reader #marvel smut #marvel x reader smut #peter parker x reader smut #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker #spider man x reader smut #spider man x reader #spiderman

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writingdumpster · 1 year

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patience

pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x reader

warnings: SMUT 18+, p in v, voyeurism (male), orgasm denial, bondage (webs), daddy! kink, fingering, praise, dacryphilia

summary: pure porn. went off with the dialogue i think. Peter ties you up and leaves you to watch while he takes care of himself.

word count: 2.1k

“Please, Peter.”

Peter had you webbed to the bed like a starfish. Your ankles were bound to the posts at the foot of the bed and your wrists to the headboard. You had a few pillows behind you so you were able to watch as Peter continued to move his fingers against your clit.

“Are you about to come?” Peter asked. You moaned incoherently. Peter slapped your thigh. “I said, are you about to come?”

“Yes! Please, Peter! Please, please, please, please,” you repeated desperately. He had already stolen your orgasm from you twice. You would have said anything to keep his hands on you. Peter didn’t care. He pulled his hands away. You wailed in agony, back arching away from the mattress as you tried to chase after Peter’s touch. “No, no! Please, no,” you whined.

“Patience, baby.” Peter stepped back and looked down at you from the foot of the bed. You cried out in disapproval and stared up at him longingly.

“Peter,” you whimpered. Your body convulsed, in shock from the denial.

“Get comfortable, kitten. I think I’m going to take care of myself for a little bit,” Peter said. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. Your pussy was clenching wildly around nothing.

“Peter, please, I need to come!” You cried.

“You’re going to wait, sweetheart.” Peter’s voice was steady and warm. Peter took his boxers off. He grabbed the chair at your vanity and pulled it to the foot of your bed. He sat down on the chair with his legs spread open lazily. His eyes were raking up and down your body.

“Peter,” you whimpered. “What are you doing?” You asked. Peter took his cock in his hand. You watched as he spread the precum leaking out around the red tip of his cock.

“I’m taking care of myself,” Peter said.

“Peter, I need you!” You shouted, tears falling from your eyes. Your body was still convulsing, feeling the aftershocks of all the edging. Peter began slowly stroking up and down his long, thick cock.

“Need me? You’ve had me, baby. For almost an hour.” His voice was sweet. He was trying to seem innocent despite the cruelty he was showing you.

“But I need to come, Peter,” You whined. Your eyes were puffy from your tears. You had a pout decorating your lips as you continued to cry. Your body was burning with need. You were pulling at the webs around your wrists, wanting to touch yourself if Peter wouldn’t.

“Even if I touch you I’m not going to let you come yet, sweetheart,” he said. He pulled his hand off his cock and spit on it. He made a few more strokes, but stopped.

“Peter, it hurts!” You cried.

“Where’s the lube?” Peter asked, standing and going through his bedside drawer. You let out a childish whine when Peter ignored your complaints. Peter went over to your drawer, searching it for the lube as well.

“Please touch me,” you whimpered desperately. Peter walked over to the dresser and looked around. “I need you so bad, Pete.”

“I can’t find it,” Peter said, continuing to ignore your pleas.

“Peter,” you sniffled helplessly. “Please.” Peter looked over at you and smirked. He walked back towards you. You tried to straighten yourself up, hoping that he was going to touch you again. He leaned over the foot of the bed and reached towards your cunt. He ran his fingers through your opening, collecting your wetness on his hand. You moaned wildly.

“Thank you,” you gushed. Peter let out a dry laugh. He leaned away and started to sit back down on the chair. “Peter, what are you doing?” You asked in a panic. Peter rubbed your cum from his hand onto his cock.

“Couldn’t find the lube,” he said. He started stroking himself again. You whined in protest.

“Please,” you cried. “Please, I need more.” Your eyes were locked on Peter. He was a beautiful sight. His hair was fluffy in a way that made him cute. You would’ve been tempted to call it adorable but as your eyes kept moving down to see his naked body ‘adorable’ didn’t seem like the right word anymore. He looked like he was cut from marble, his toned abs tensing as he stroked himself. His cock was hard in his hand and it made your mouth water.

“You need more? You’ve had so much, and I’ve just been waiting, baby. Does that seem fair?” Peter asked as he continued to stroke himself. You shook your head.

“No,” you whimpered. “But you could fuck me,” you said. Peter chuckled.

“We’ll get to that, baby,” he said.

“Please,” you begged again. “I need you so bad.”

“I can see that pretty little pussy throbbing from here, kitten,” Peter called to you. You let out a little whimper. You knew he was right. You could feel your pulse between your legs.

“She needs you, Peter,” you said.

“Of course she does, she’s mine,” he said. Peter started stroking himself faster. He moaned quietly and threw his head back in pleasure.

“You don’t want to leave your pussy waiting anymore then do you, Petey?” You asked sweetly. Peter tilted his head in thought as he continued to stroke himself.

“Tell me what she wants,” he demanded.

“She wants you to make her come,” you told him.

“And how does she want me to do that?” He asked.

“With your cock, Peter. She wants you to fuck her,” you said. Peter smirked as he saw your cunt throbbing faster. You were writhing against the bed. He moved his hand to the tip of his cock, squeezing at the head as he stroked.

“How does she want me to fuck her?” He asked.

“Deep, Peter. She wants you to fill her all the way up, over and over again,” you told him. You continued pulling at the webs restraining you. Peter groaned as his hand slid around his thick cock. “She wants your cum,” you said. You felt like a whore, telling Peter about your pussy so graphically, but somehow you loved it.

“She does, huh?” Peter asked with a smirk. You nodded.

“Uh-huh,” you hummed at him. “She needs it so bad. She needs you to mark her up. Claim her as yours.” Peter stood at once and kicked the chair away.

“You’re filthy,” Peter spat. He climbed onto the bed and settled between your legs. He planted a hand beside your head to steady himself. He took his cock in his other hand and lined it up with your slit.

“Please,” you whimpered quietly, burning with anticipation. Peter slid into you in one stroke. You were wetter than you’d ever been before and your cunt made the most lewd squelching sound you had ever heard.

“Fuuck, baby,” Peter groaned as he felt your warmth envelop him. You moaned loudly, ecstatic that you were being given attention again.

“Thank you, Peter,” you gushed.

“This is where you belong, kitten. Wrapped around my cock,” Peter cooed down at you.

“Yeah, Pete. I was made to be yours,” you moaned. Peter started deep and slow at first, the same way he always did. That’s not what you wanted though. You started to thrust your hips up against Peter to try and get a faster rhythm. Peter grabbed your hip with one hand and pushed you down against the mattress, pinning you down firmly. He kept himself buried in you, but stilled his hips.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?” He asked. His voice was soft and sweet, but you felt embarrassed to answer.

“Trying to go faster,” you admitted shyly.

“Why didn’t you ask me, baby?” He nudged his nose against yours so you had to meet his eye.

“I thought you would say ‘no,’ daddy,” you told him. Peter chuckled darkly. He knew what you were doing. He loved when you called him daddy, and you knew it. You used it as your weapon against him when he was teasing you.

“Well, why don’t you ask me?” He pushed. You smiled hopefully.

“Will you please fuck me faster, daddy?” You begged.

“Not yet, kitten. Not yet.” He kept his hand on your hips but started to slowly move his hips again, rolling them as he moved. The tip of his cock rubbed against the special spot inside you that only Peter had ever been able to find.

“Ooooooh, Peterrr!” You screamed. You thrust your hips upwards, but Peter was plenty strong enough to keep you in place.

“Right there? Is that the spot?” Peter taunted.

“Yes, Peter! Please! Harder! Faster! Anything!” You pleaded helplessly. Tears were streaming down your face as you cried out for him. Peter seemed to sense that you were nearing the end of your rope. He moved his hand from your hip to your cheek, pushing the sweaty hairs away from your face and cupping your cheek in his hand.

“Shh. Shh,” Peter hushed you. “You’re okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he cooed. Your chest was heaving.

“Please,” you whimpered quietly.

“I heard you, baby,” Peter cooed. “I’ll give you whatever you want now. I’ve had my fun.” You hummed happily.

“Kiss?” You requested sweetly. Peter smirked.

“You’re precious, y’know that?” He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. You mewled as he kissed you, basking in the soft affection he was giving you. You sighed in satisfaction as he leaned away.

“What do you want next, baby?” He asked.

“To come,” you whimpered. Peter smiled. He ran his finger down your cheek.

“Do you care how, sweetheart?” You shook your head.

“Uh-uh. Just want you to make me come,” you pleaded. Peter nodded. He started moving his hips again, finding the spot that made you fall apart with ease. Peter sped up his movements, pushing you further towards your orgasm. You were clenching uncontrollably around Peter’s cock. He let out a broken gasp when you tightened down on him during a particularly deep thrust.

“Fuck, y/n,” Peter groaned. You whined at the sound of your name on his lips. He reached down between your bodies to push his thumb over your clit. He started rubbing it back and forth furiously while hammering into you. He was losing his composure, on the brink of his own orgasm when you screamed out in pleasure.

“Oh my god, Peter!” You wailed. As soon as Peter knew you were coming he let himself go as well.

“Unngh, shit, kitten,” Peter groaned as he emptied himself into you. His cum filled you up. You felt the warmth filling your womb and you moaned blissfully. He grunted as he caught his breath.

“Thank you, Peter,” you whispered. Peter laughed softly.

“You’re so sweet.” He leaned down and kissed you. He gently pulled out of you, pulling a tiny whimper from you at the emptiness. He carefully climbed off the bed, going to remove the webs from your wrists and ankles. He disposed of them quickly and then scooped you up, cradling you in his arms on your bed. You rubbed your cheek against his chest like a kitten seeking attention–the habit that had earned you your nickname.

“You alright, love?” Peter whispered against your hair. He kissed the crown of your head. Peter’s hand was gently rubbing up and down your thigh, your legs thrown across his lap.

“I’m okay,” you said.

“Not too much, kitten?” He asked.

“No, Pete. It was good,” you said.

“You did really good for me, baby. You’re always such a good girl,” he told you. You smiled.

“I like being good for you, Peter,” you gushed. “Always want to be your good girl.”

“You are, sweetheart. Always good,” Peter said. You cuddled into his chest, your arms snaking around his neck. You yawned and closed your eyes. Peter had tired you out. He laid down, pulling you against his body.

“I love you, Peter,” you whispered as you drifted off to sleep. Peter smiled to himself. He kissed your forehead.

“I love you too, baby,” he whispered. Peter stayed awake, reveling in the feeling of you against his body. He adored you in every way. He would take any moment he had with you to focus solely on you. Even when you weren’t with him his mind was on you. You were unavoidable for him. Whether in his mind or in his arms, he always wanted you there. When he did finally drift off to sleep you were in his dreams too.

#tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker smut #tasm!spider man smut #tasm!spider man x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #spider man x reader #spider man smut #peter parker x reader smut #spider man x reader smut

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hanasnx · 2 years

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rain - spider-man / peter parker

summary: sweet sweet spider-loving. MINORS DNI

character(s): spider-man / peter parker x fem!reader (can be any spider-man you imagine like tasm)

word count: 5k

warnings: explicit sex, spidey being very impatient, mask kink mask kink mask kink & suit kink <3, VERY SLIGHT dub con because there was no explicit ask for consent— things were implied, no capitalization i apologize if it bothers u

notes: this is my first smut fic that’s been finished. ive been writing for a long time but this is the first time i’ve put it on anything :) i imagine spider-man from the 2018 insomniac game on ps4 “marvel’s spider-man” his voice actor and his character design is my favorite but you can imagine any spider-man u want, holland, garfield, maguire hehe

the droplets of rain pitter pattered onto peter’s suit and he shivered from the biting cold. the combination of water and fifty two degrees. he sniffed and rubbed his nose. “wish i had read the weather report before i went out.” he thought aloud to himself. early in the game he realized no one could hear him when he was perched on the corner of rooftops. it was safe to let that little voice inside become vocal. everyone had one. everyone talks to themselves. he likes to think it helps him organize. realistically, it’s less lonely.

ah, aloneness. he used to covet it. the isolation. it was quiet and safe, and he knew himself best. he didn’t have to talk to anyone. no one talked to him.

“god, i’m gonna go crazy.” peter aimed and swung away, looking for trouble.

he dialed. he waited. she picked up. “yuri? tell me you have something,”

“uh… no. not right now anyway. you’ve pretty much cleared up the last of the loose ends, spider-man. nice work.” her tone was refreshingly grateful, but his heart sunk with disappointment. he needed some action, itching for it. if he had ever been addicted before, he would recognize this as a need for a fix. something had to get his adrenaline pumping. yuri realized the silence. “what? you only answer to ‘spider-cop’ now?” she taunted. peter didn’t take the bait unusually. “hey, is there something wro—?”

“thanks anyway, yuri. gotta go.”

“um, ok—“

he hung up and landed on an edge. he groaned to the sky, as if he needed to tell it his frustrations. he should be happy to go home, have a night off. but he just felt stuck. and restless. he raised his arms, level to his shoulders, stretching out his chest. “breathe, spidey, breathe.” he closed his eyes. inhale, hold, exhale. he tipped backward, falling. inhale, hold, exhale. in perfect form, he flipped. over and over again. when did i get used to this much g-force? how has my head not been bashed in by a ledge? how many times can i flip before i forget which way is up? inhale, hold, exhale.

you.

peter’s eyes opened. he saw the world familiarly, zipping by him. it was too much. he shut them again. and in the comforting darkness, you returned, like a dream. you were an imprint on his brain.

“peter,” you cooed lovingly, “why don’t you come over, peter? you never visit me anymore.”

he opened his eyes. the ground was growing increasingly nearer, faster than he remembered it could. oh, but he couldn’t let go of you now. not yet. he squeezed them closed, desperately grasping onto the cusp of this new fantasy.

“i’m getting tired of waiting for you, peter~” you growled, disguised as a humble murmur, and you sank deeper into the cushions of the bed. your impatience poisoned him. he wanted to please you.

but you were just so irresistible, pouting or not. he took notice of how he pictured you. wearing a lavender silk nightgown that ended high on your thigh, with dangling strings of bows and dainty mesh.

god her nipples are hard.

your eyebrows raised as if you heard his thoughts and he felt blush heat up his cheeks. embarrassed, until your eyes wandered down his abdomen, landing on his clothed sex. “guess they’re not the only ones that are hard, huh?” you got on her hands and knees, and his pants tightened; frozen in place as you crawled towards him. he knew he’d start stuttering by now if this was real. blubbering as he helplessly watched you undo the buckle of his pants. “but you know what’s even harder, peter?” you asked him in a whisper, raising yourself properly on your knees so you could ghost your lips over his.

he leaned into you, chasing your mouth. “what?” he replied in a murmur, determined to silence you with his kiss.

you lingered a moment, gaze flickering from his eyes to his lips. your hand grasped his length and peter’s breath hitched in his throat. “the ground when you don’t pull up.” you lulled. he hesitated, drawing back.

“what?”

your voice rang clear, resounding in his skull like a bell. “pull up, peter. pull up!”

“woah!” he opened his eyes just in time, webbing an edge at the last second before he flattened on the pavement like a real bug. his fingers curled around the ledge and he pulled himself up to sit, breathing hard. he pushed the air from his lungs in a huff, going limp and laying on his back on the rooftop. he picked up his phone.

there was nothing on your snapchat story besides your cat. instagram too. you weren’t busy.

yea, you weren’t busy. not really. you were watching the second princess diaries movie because you felt like getting your heart squeezed by chris pine. however, it wasn’t occupying your thoughts like you hoped it would.

a ding from your phone alerted you to a text from a friend.

i left my dress at your house :,(

you furrowed your eyebrows, responding promptly.

your dress honey? which one?

it’s black. goes down to the thigh i think

you stood up from your lazy boy and took a look around.

where’d you leave it babe?

im guessing bathroom?? it was last saturday. i crashed at your place after My Night Out On The Town™ & borrowed some of your clothes to sleep in

you stepped in and turned the bathroom light on. you didn’t see it.

oh right ! the simpsons tshirt i was wondering where that got off to

i think im gonna keep it

you keep that i keep the dress

fair enough sugar plum. we make the trade at midnight. deal?

deal. i’ll see u at midnight, im sure i’ll find your dress by then

thank you my dear!!

you smiled. she’s sweet. you pocketed your phone and kept an eye out. sure enough, the dress was thrown haphazardly over a chair. you almost didn’t recognize it blending in with your clothes but this was definitely something she’d wear. you held it out in front of you by the straps, examining it for stains when you noticed how cute it looked.

damn. well i’m sure she won’t mind i try it on a second. you thought.

so you peeled off your pajamas and shimmied on that dress. it really was cute. spaghetti straps and a deep v-neck. made your girls pop too. you turned around and stretched the material taut over your ass. “shit, girl, you look good.” you remarked.

a moment passed of admiring yourself. “well, i have to complete the look.” before i have to give it up. your fingers hooked into the bands of your stilettos and you grabbed a shawl with melodramatic potential from your closet. it added but it didn’t complete. so you tapped the palette with your brush and dusted your eyes, “god, forgive me for wasting good makeup on a night in.” you said through a funny, concentrating expression.

it was a worthy sacrifice. you shouldered the shawl and checked yourself out in the mirror. you were nearly there. what was missing? you discarded the shawl, it was no longer working. your eyes trailed from your painted toenails over your shaved legs and good boob day to your hair.

my hair…

so you pulled and twisted and bobby pinned but it just wasn’t right. undoing what you had done, your hair unraveled into accidental perfect little curls. if you kept still, you could keep those perfect little curls around a while longer…

no. better use hairspray.

to get the proper experience, you rushed over to your full length mirror in the living room. safe to assume, you were stunning. you hardly recognized you. “oh, my god. oh, my god!” you strutted, posed. “yes.” you stuck another one. “oh, yes.” and another. “really feel it, babe, look at you!” you twirled, pretending to be your own photographer, praising your modeling.

you tried to sit in your lazy boy in an intimidating, temptress sort of way. claws placed purposefully on the arm rests, your legs crossed over one another. you embodied seductive villainy. you felt hot like one. bad. it felt so… good. “you’re killing it.” you flattered yourself, but it was hard to take yourself seriously when you were sitting in cushioned leather. you needed a real throne. in the meantime, you didn’t think twice about having more fun.

“ah! spider-man, baby, i’ve been expecting you.” you cooed. you pursed your lips in thought; that was way too cliché.

you spun on your heel, “spider-man?” you gasped dramatically, a hand over your chest in shock, the other, pretending to fashion an opera length cigarette holder, “in my living room? get out of town!”

your hand rested on the edge of a table, letting you lean on it for support as you twirled your glass in your hand, mixing it as if it was alcohol like brandy or something villainous like that. it was just sweet tea. “oh, spider-man. you’re here early.” you lulled, and took a seductive sip of your tea. slowly, letting your lips kiss the glass, and the smooth liquid to glide past them. you lowered it, leaving a red stain of lipstick. “care for a drink?”

you couldn’t help but smile as you checked yourself out one last time. your friend should be picking up the dress soon, so it was time to hang up the villain version of you and go back to sweatpants. maybe treat yourself to a little ice cream as a reward for looking so good. as a last hurrah, you winked at your reflection, “baby, you’re so hot i might just fuck you senseless myself.” you joked.

“i think that’s my job tonight.” a voice coming from behind you brutally awakened you from your trance and you yelped in surprise. you spun around and your arms wrapped around yourself on instinct, as if you were nude.

the blue and red of a friendly neighborhood superhero caught your eye. attached to the ceiling, the webhead hung, lightly swaying as he watched you with tempered anticipation. praying for a positive reaction. “hey, (y/n).” he tilted his head. “cute outfit. what’s the occasion? prom?”

“oh, shut up, perv.” you fisted the fabric of a pillow in anger, tossing it at him haphazardly, which he didn’t dodge.

“i deserve that.”

“how long were you watching? how long were you in my house?” you demanded, blush heating your cheeks. it was embarrassing, being caught red headed. you were just messing around, everybody does that. spider-man seemed to take notice of your blush, and crept toward you on the wall, stalking closer in a stance that reminded you of a cat readying to pounce… or more appropriately, a spider.

your skin tingled with anticipation, side eyeing him crawl closer. he faced the floor and picked up his legs keeping his fingers glued to the wall. in a model of peak human condition, he flipped over and skillfully lowered himself onto the floor. you gulped. he was so hot in that suit. he strode towards you but you didn’t back down. instead of stopping to tower over you, establish his dominance, he passed by you, saying, “i thought you liked me watching you.” which somehow made you feel even smaller. you swallowed again, staring at his back. those corded muscles rippling underneath that skin tight suit was enough to make you salivate. he was toying with you.

“that‘s not the point here and you know it.” you started again, feigning strength in your voice but it was failing you. he could hear that. you know he could.

he halted to gaze out of the open window to your balcony. “have you been waiting for me? you left the window open, i assumed it was an invitation.” he glanced over his shoulder. you couldn’t see the smile on his face. you felt the need to explain yourself, sheepish from the interruption of your dress-up game. “and in this outfit too? you didn’t want me to ruin it?” the question was laced with disbelief, as if it wasn’t a ploy you put on in order to lure him.

it was so hard to think when he talked like this. you swallowed thickly and set your drink down, unable to tear your eyes away from him. “it’s not my dress.” come to think of it, your friend was coming at midnight, you should stay vigilant for that. spider-man wasn’t bothered at all, offering a solution as easy as breathing.

“take the dress off then.” heat pooled in between your legs at the statement. when you couldn’t speak, he added something else, “the rest is yours right.” he bowed his head as he generously looked you up and down, “i recognize those heels,” he reminisced knowingly, surfacing the memory within you of wearing these during one of your escapades with him in the past. “the makeup is yours.” as he spoke, he sauntered closer, taking note of how your eyes were glued to the way his hips moved. his gloved hand came up to tangle in your hair, “this hair…” yanking downwards to force you to look up at his towering form. even in your black heels he was taller than you. lengthy, toned, and lean. this suit made you want to lick stuff off of him. ��obviously yours. the jewelry— i was there when you picked this choker out.” his hand came up to hook his finger in the necklace, drawing a line underneath it absentmindedly. he resisted the urge to remind her his hands were her favorite choker. “you gonna take the dress off or should i? because baby, i’m getting tired of waiting.”

it had been so long since this scene was played out with you two, where he desired you enough to take the control away from you. it was invigorating, and lit a fire in your chest that drove you to listen. your hand reached behind you to grasp the base of the zipper, dragging it down in order to reach the zip, and tugging it slowly and smoothly, until you were able to push the straps off your shoulders. this has happened so many times, that the look of spider-man no longer bothered you. blank eyes only hid the brown ones underneath that held so much lust for you. it was exciting, not being able to see his face. the dress pooled around your legs, and you stepped out of it, kicking it to the side. because of your lack of planning, you didn’t pick out a cute set of lingerie. you were simply bare. naked and hot. at the sight of you, you heard spider-man exhale sharply. now it was your turn to move things along, “well? what are you waiting for?” it was breathless. vulnerable. a plea. in minutes, the hero had you begging for him all over again.

his hand came up to pinch the hem of his mask, about to lift it up over his lips. your hand halted his, fisting his suit after to get him closer as you told him quickly, “leave the mask on, dear god, leave it on.” without wasting a second, he stooped to pick you up by your thighs, bringing you over to your kitchen table to set your back onto it. one of your chairs was kicked out of the way causing it to skid. the spider was gearing up to eat you out like he’s been thinking about for hours. have you writhing and coming on his tongue over and over— but you were explicit. leave the mask on. his hand squeezed your thigh involuntarily at the thought, his other one running down from your clit over the opening of your sex causing you to whine. being patient was painful, so you curled towards him to guide his movements but he wouldn’t have it. snatching your wrist and pinning it next to your head. in a skilled maneuver he webbed it to the table, trapping that arm above your head. “hey!” you called, but he ignored you, smacking your pussy to cause you to keen. “baby, i need your fingers, i need you, i need something,” you were desperate, surprised at yourself that he could goad such a response from you with nothing but a few words and a dry spell. he granted you friction, circling your clit with his finger.

“oh, you need something, alright,” he told you, alternating giving your clit attention, and plunging a finger inside of you to tease you further. frustrating you was in order, after everything you’ve done to him since the last time you two got together. “all those pictures, and those texts,” he groaned. images of your new bikinis, new bras and panties in red, your perfect tits in candlelight or your toys playing with your wet pussy. “you need a good, hard fuck, don’t you?” he added another finger, and another, feeling you loosen like putty in his hands. you nodded feverishly, filthy sounds pouring from your mouth now that he was curling his fingers inside of you. “oh, c’mon, angel, say it. you’ve been waiting for me so impatiently, now that i’m here, you can’t even tell me you missed me? that you wanted me here?” you cried at this words, unable to open your eyes when they were rolled so far back in your head as he abused that spongy spot inside of you. it was so sudden, no prep, and he was expecting you to have coherent thoughts, and then speak them. it was too much.

you tried. you tried really hard. “yes. yes,” you agreed, “please don’t stop.” his pace didn’t falter, he liked that you were responding, and he loved knowing how hard it was for you to respond. his teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he eyed yours, parted in sinful pleasure, awaiting a kiss to swallow your moans. this mask thing was so hard, but so enticing. “c’mon, spidey, i wanna come on your fingers.”

“no way.” he told you, enthralled at the idea of denying you for all of your terrible teasings while you two were apart. at the words, you picked your head up to look at him with such a delicious, crestfallen countenance. he wished to savor it a little longer, but he couldn’t pass up another chance to bully you, “i’m gonna edge you like you wouldn’t believe,” you whined in protest, but he was busy, paying attention to your clit, and when you tried to close your legs, his hand pushed your thighs apart harshly, “oh no no no,” he said with a malicious laugh, “don’t give up now, sweetheart, don’t you wanna make me proud?” it was such a mean thing to say, and it made the coil in your belly tighten regardless. he had you where he wanted you, “can you believe this is only two fingers?” he snickered, and your only free hand reached for him lazily. “don’t make me tie down this one too.” his wanting was punctuated by adding another finger inside you, and you cried out at the feverish pace.

“god, peter, please!” there it was. his name. he didn’t even have to tell you to say it this time. he wondered if that sullied the illusion of the spider-man roleplay, but you didn’t seem to mind too much. your back arching off the table. he could feel you clenching around him like a vice, but you were so wet he was able to maintain his cadence.

his voice dripped with false sympathy, “you gonna come, baby? c’mon, angel, are you?” he demands your answer, and you can only nod, your face contorted in rapture. that was his cue to slow down, which made your frustrated noises all the more satisfying, attempting to grab at his wrist in order to fuck yourself. that earned you complete denial, and he slipped his hand out from you, leaving your pussy throbbing, dripping all over your kitchen table.

“you’re being so mean,”

“you like it.” he rounded the table and drew your free arm to him, successfully webbing it down to match your other restraint. like a bitch in heat, you reflexively moved to dip your head over the edge of the table, opening your mouth as you eyed his pants. you were asking to suck him off. the act was so devious, he gave in immediately, hooking his thumb in the hem of his pants and freeing himself, his other hand tangling in your hair to help guide his leaking cock to your mouth. he would never admit how much he loves this position. watching your straining throat, the vibrations of your grateful hum around his cock, your tits bouncing with each of his movements that made him lean over to clutch one of them, earning another one of your moans. he exhaled, finding it much harder to compose himself, “you are so damn good at that,” he crooned as your tongue swirled around him just how you knew he liked. when you gagged he pulled out to let you catch your breath, a string of his precum mixed with your saliva connecting your mouth and his cock. as soon as you reached for him again, he obliged, and to show his appreciation, his fingers returned to your neglected sex, filthy sounds pouring from the both of you. it was music to his ears.

you needed more, and once he noticed your change in pace, he took it as his hint to move on. panting, you looked up at him with such a drunken content face, once perfect makeup smudged, he felt like coming all over it. your tongue came out to lick your lips and he wished he could kiss you. a second he lingered, but got a hold of himself, ripping apart his webbing entrapping your arms like string. his hand at the back of your head aided in helping you up. “i know you said you would edge me more but can we do that after we—“ you started, stepping onto a chair while he circled the table, pulling you up from the surface so you could safely walk down. immediately, you were in his arms again.

“after we fuck? yes.” he finished for you, and by his tone it seems your little ploy of getting his dick in your mouth again worked its endless wonders once more in getting what you wanted. you grinned, and kissed him over his mask to his surprise. he felt your lips mold into his through the thin fabric, and he figured this was good enough, his fingers digging into the plush of your ass in desperation. thinking of everything he could do to you on his day off. out of instinct, he began to part his lips to play your tongue with his but had to stop himself when there was a barrier.

once your lips detached, you were free to say, “where do you want me?” but you already had an idea. it was confirmed when he whipped you around, bending you over the table again. you laughed breathlessly, your tits squished underneath you, feeling the coldness of the wood. it was obvious this was one of his favorites when you wore heels because now your entrance lined up perfectly with his—

“i’ve missed you so fucking much,” he confessed, unable to wait any longer to plunge his aching cock into your silken folds. it was too much to bear, causing you to clutch onto the table in delicious pain. he was so big it hurt in all the right ways, sliding against every inch of the inside of you. you were so wet, it allowed him freedom in his pace, your hole loosening in order to accommodate him. you rocked back into him with his thrusts to meet him, his hands on your hips providing a support. you moaned his name, causing him to reach forward and push your head down onto the table, your cheek resting against it. you whimpered as he continued fucking into you with reckless abandon. clearly, he did miss you. and you missed him so dearly. your fingers weren’t as long as his, your dildo was nothing compared to him. this scene he’s created as been so enjoyably rare, you loved every second of him taking control this time, taking what he wanted.

you couldn’t answer him, instead greedily taking what he was giving you, he praised you, “i love this pussy, baby, you’re taking me so good. i love filling you. you’re so hot bouncing on my cock like this,” it made you work harder, fucking yourself back onto him, and getting more force from him in return. the pace was unimaginable, you were screaming with his thrust. his tip repeatedly kissing your cervix in a way that made your toes curl and your legs shake. that coil in your core was back and worse than ever, making you beg.

“don’t stop, please, whatever you do, peter, don’t stop,” you ordered, tears seeping from your eyes onto the table as you closed in on finishing. he couldn’t help but squeeze one more position out of you before that happened, guiding your back to him by your hair, sending pleasant tingles shooting down your spine as he blew your back out. his hand enclosed itself around your throat as the new angle reinvented your idea of pleasure, a chain of screams emitting from you. everytime he did this to you, he made sure you could never close your mouth.

“you like that, baby? how do i feel?” holding the ability to speak over your head would be cruel, if you couldn’t hear how close he really was in his voice. his movements were becoming more erratic, and he couldn’t keep himself quiet either. the position he had you in gave you a front row seat to his breath on your ear, and gift wrapping his whines in perfect packaging that had you reeling.

“so good, spider-man, you feel so fucking good.” he had such an exploitable kink for his superhero name, keening himself in a way that caused you to moan loudly, “i love hearing you, baby,” he listened to you, letting every sound spill from his lips.

“you close? i can feel you. i can hear your heartbeat, smell you. tell me.” he spoke over the sopping sounds of your pussy and the snapping of his hips against your ass.

“i am, yes i am, i’m gonna come,” you admitted, the last word resounding in a pitchy whimper, making him groan.

“do it, c’mon, baby, come all over me,” his hand attached to the arm around your middle moved down in order to rub circles into your clit that made you tremble in his arms. you didn’t have to be told twice to let go, feeling the warmth of you drip down your thighs. to get him to stop putting too much pressure on your clit, you had to put his hand over his, waiting for him to follow your lead and come inside you. he fucked your wetness back into you with fervor, tensing up and no longer keeping pace. his eyes squeezed shut behind his mask, and you felt his seed flood inside of you as he let it go, moaning in relief. it trailed down your thighs along with your own. his forehead fell onto your shoulder as he moved until he was too sensitive.

“spider-man,” you say in surprise, “you’re so dirty for a super-hero,” he chuckled at that, pulling himself out of you and ripping his mask up off his face, revealing his familiar face and his grin. he was so happy to see you, and when you faced him fully he took you up in his arms. you were at a loss to how he still had energy to pick you up, and you squealed.

“c’mon, let’s go take a shower,” he threw you over his shoulder and you cried out again.

“peter!”

“what? we should really clean up so i can get started on that edging i promised you.” he told you, your hands at the base of his torso to keep yourself up. you eyed the back of his head.

“my friend is going to be here any minute, and i have to return that dress.”

your friend knocked, and after a second, you opened it wearing an oversized t-shirt. “hey, hon!” you greeted, and she took note of your appearance. disheveled hair, frizzy with knots in your curls. black makeup smudged under your eyes, running down your cheeks. if you had thought to fix it before opening the door, you would’ve.

“rough night?” she asked slyly, her meaning shining through with her mischievous glance.

your eyes widened, and you sheepishly muttered, “you could say that.” you handed her the dress. “thanks again.” she handed you your simpson’s t-shirt.

“no problem, sweets.” your friend replied, tossing the dress onto her shoulder like dishrag and waved good-bye. you closed the door, pressing your back against it with a sigh of relief. you heard the shower running, and pete’s voice calling for you.

“you coming?”

“coming!”

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deadduvznap · 1 month

Text

deadduvznap birthday event

THIS EVENT WILL CONTAIN DEAD DOVE CONTENT.

wassup yall atlas here im gonna be holding an event for my birthday

reminder that this is for male!readers only i dont write stuff for women

the event is going to start march 22nd and end around april 18th but that is up in the air

edit; it will be ending on april 22nd

asks can be sent here and must all follow my rules if not the ask will either be deleted or ill publicly humiliate you (depending on the ask)

EDIT ; i will also be writing shipping and poly content so go ahead and req that

i will be writing blurbs, the length atleast 200 words or so per ask

i will answer asks fr unlike how im struggling to now i pinky promise

ermmmm idk what else to say yeah send ur asks and ill kiss you or have hot sweaty gay sex with you

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wyvernest · 8 months

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mating szn

part 1 (part2)

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

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

summary: miguel comes home feeling extremely needy

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

Miguel walks into the open kitchen, frowning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seeing you resist, he lets out a defeated exhale.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're ovulating.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

divider by @cafekitsune

HOPE YALL LIKE IT IMMA CONTINUE ‼️‼️

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

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loveforeren · 9 months

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Miguel and different sex positions pt.1 eheheh cowgirl.

Miguel absolutely love when you ride him. The feeling you moving on top on him makes him lean his head back, mouth open, and his hands on your hips.

You were on top of him as you hover yourself over his erect cock. No matter how many times you took him it always had the same feeling. That almost overbearing feeling of him stretching you out, and molding you around his cock. You slowly started to push down letting him slide inside you. You let out a gasp as his tip pushed its way into your needy cunt. You hear Miguel hiss as he grips your waist tightly.

"Shit. Just like that, Mami." Miguel said.

You continue to push down as you feel Miguel fill you up. The feeling of him stretching you out to die for. You put your hand on his chest to help you. Finally sitting all the way down on his cock you let out a moan.

"..You okay, Cariño?" He asked in a airy breath.

You nod and look up at him with teary eyes. He was so fucking big. You start to move slowly bringing yourself up and down on his dick slowly. His nails penetrate your skin and you let out a moan from the pain.

"Faster. Go faster." He said throwing his head back.

His wish was your command. You bring yourself down on his cock faster. The feeling of his shaft sliding inside of you was euphoric.

"Miguel-" You hissed out his name.

He came forward latching onto one of your sensitive buds. The other hand massaged your other breast. You clench around him tight and he lets out a groan causing a shiver to go down your back. His mouth detaches from your breast and he lets out an almost pornographic moan.

"Wanna get your pregnant.." he babbled mindlessly.

Miguel absolutely loved the feeling of your body squeezing him. He let out a grin as you throw your head back. The sight of you on top of him was almost enough to make him cum. He was ready to fill you up with every drop of his seed.

"Mami, want me to get you pregnant? Get you all nice and swollen with my kid?" He asked

"Yes! Yes, Miguel please." You moaned

You feel that knot in your stomach. That one telling you that you were about to cum. Miguel was now in control of your movements helping you move up and down on his cock.

"Miggy, I'm about to come" You choke out.

"Come f'me, Amor" He purred.

That was all it took as you came undone on Miguel's dick. The feeling of you clenching around his cock sent Miguel over the edge. He threw his head back as you milk him of every drop of sperm he had. His nails digged farther into your waist as you keep your hand on his chest. He swears you're going to be the death of him.

Moni notes ➳❥ yall I'm tryna write but I'm deadass a little sick. I've been sick for the past couple days..I have like 13 unfinished drafts. I think imma write another eren or Connie fic idk..

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127rkives · 10 months

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uhhhh idk if anyone has discussed this before but... miguel likes to eat pussy from the back!!!

like idk, every once in a while, his brain goes brrrr and something short circuits. idk chalk it up to stress but it's more like some feral, animalistic urge. he can’t really explain it. it’s almost as if someone flips a switch, his mind goes blank except for the thought of needing to be with you, under you, in you. he has to stop whatever he’s doing and go find you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

and as soon as he makes it home to find you relaxed on the couch, he's flipping you over, contorting you face down ass up, and he’s nuzzling into your clothed pussy like a dog in fucking heat. when he’s finally spent just enough time shrouded in the scent of you, he's yanking your shorts off. he’s been at this for approximately 2 minutes but there's already a wet patch in the center of your panties. that sight makes his pupils dilate before going in for the kill. his claws come out to rip your panties to shreds right before he straight up nose dives into your pussy, and granted you can feel him, the action still catches you off guard enough for you to emit a loud gasp. it’s just too much too fast. “mig- ohhh!~”

“mmm... mmmf” miguel gets so much satisfaction from tasting you that he releases moans of his own. they would be bouncing around the room and intermingling with yours except right now he can't bring himself to pry his tongue from the slick walls of your cunt.

“oh my gosh- miguel!”

hearing you raise your voice in alarm while saying his name is enough to make miguel pause for a second. you take the moment of reprieve to look over your shoulder— huffing and puffing— only to be stunned by miguel’s animalistic look. his curls are messily hanging near his eyes which are dark, yet spacey as if he’s on another planet. his lips are parted just enough to show a peek of his fangs as he breathes heavily through his mouth after suffocating himself with your pussy, and a gleaming mixture of his spit and your slick is smothered over half of his face and all the way down to his collarbone.

“m- miggy could you just give me a few seconds?” you ask. miguel tilts his head to the side and scoffs. a curt “no” is all you get before miguel locks his arms around your thighs to drag you back to his watering mouth. you don’t have claws like miguel but if you did the couch cushions would definitely be in shreds from the way you’re gripping them.

the wet slurps of miguel’s tongue lapping at your cunt are soon paired with two of his thick fingers easily slipping in thanks to your arousal. he scissors them for a moment before adding a third. the speed he uses to pump them in and out and the feeling of his slightly calloused fingers against your gummy walls leaves you floating in the clouds. you’re brought crashing back down, however, when a deep groan from miguel sends sparks up your spine. soon enough you feel pressure building at the bottom of your stomach, only it doesn’t feel like it usually does. in a fit of panic you try to drag yourself out of miguel’s grip.

“ohhh my go- miggy!” it’s all you can do to let out little slurred calls of his name, but it doesn’t matter. miguel’s not stopping until he’s satisfied. your escape attempts are useless, but the wiggling is enough to piss him off.

“querida. don’t move so much. be good.” but you can’t be still. the tingly feeling in your tummy is growing and all you can do let out breathy moans as you thrash around in ecstacy.

“ahh- i can- can’t help it!”

all of your moving loosened miguel’s grip too much for his liking. in less than a second, he's yanking you back towards his mouth and hoisting your hips just high enough to wrap his lips around your cute little clit.

one hard suck is all it takes before you’re squealing at the top of your lungs. a scream of “miguel!~” is the only thing leaving your lips while your vision goes white and your breathing stops for a second. miguel is unrelenting behind you, switching to messily swiping his thumb across your clit and shoving his tongue back into your pulsating cunt in an attempt to catch every last drop squirting in to his mouth.

even when your arms give out beneath you and you faceplant into the couch miguel is still lapping at your outer lips like he’s been saved after being stranded in the desert for a year.

and like that, it’s like the switch in his brain flips again. he smooths his hands up and down your trembling thighs and scatters kisses in a path up your back to the nape of your neck. “you okay, cariño?” a weak “mhm” is all you can muster up as you turn your head to flash miguel a floaty smirk. he smiles and chuckles, recognizing the foggy look in your eyes. covered in a sheen of sweat and high off the feeling of him is just one of the times miguel thinks you look the most beautiful.

after ghosting his hands across your skin and giving you a few minutes to calm down, miguel goes to gently move you to his lap. he buries his nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling all of you. with the little strength you have, you wiggle around in his lap attempting to get comfortable but something is in the way-

“ohh~” miguel’s breath is hot on your neck as he groans into it. his fangs graze your skin, his hands grasp onto your hips for dear life and oh...

someone flipped the damn switch again...

#miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara smut #miguel smut #miguel thirst #spider-man 2099 smut #spider-man across the multiverse smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #way longer than this was supposed to be buut oh well

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liliacamethyst · 11 months

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Web of Secrets - Miguel O'Hara

Miguel O'Hara x SpiderSun Reader

words: 3.7K

warnings: secret pregnancy trope, swearing, angst, heartbreak, grumpy/sunshine, smut

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

In your universe, you are known as the Sun Spider. It all started on a school field trip to a solar energy research center, where you were accidentally exposed to a spider that had been subjected to intense solar radiation. You woke up with a white-hot surge of power, and your life changed forever. You donned a suit of pure white, taking the name that reflected both your newfound abilities and the brightness you brought into the world: Spider-Sun.

Your ability to harness solar energy and transform it into powerful blasts or create protective shields made you a formidable superhero in your home city, Nea Yorkey. Your ability to bring light to even the darkest corners of your city earned you the love of its citizens.

However, everything changed when you were suddenly pulled into the Spider-Verse.

Upon arriving, you were greeted by the gruff leader of this interdimensional team of Spider-People, Miguel O'Hara. His reputation preceded him - the genius intellect, the imposing figure, the gruff demeanor. Everyone respected him, and some even feared him. You, on the other hand, were drawn to him. There was something about that guarded demeanor that called to your own sunny nature.

You became an integral part of the team, fighting off anomalies and working hard to maintain the balance in the Spider-Verse. And despite Miguel's stern exterior, you felt yourself falling for him.

One mission was particularly rough, and you found yourself alone with Miguel in a safe house, nursing your wounds. His usually stern face softened as he tended to your injuries. The distance that he usually maintained was nowhere to be seen.

"Thank you, Miguel," you whispered.

He looked at you, his usually hard eyes soft. "You fought well, mi sol."

There was a moment of silence, a strange tension hanging in the air. Then, Miguel leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was filled with unexpected passion.

In that moment, you were not the Sun Spider, and he was not the Spider-Man 2099. You were just two people, seeking solace in each other.

Afterwards, as you laid side by side, Miguel turned to you, a serious look on his face. "This...this can't be more than what it is. Just...you know, stress relief," he muttered, his voice just above a whisper.

His words wounded you. Naturally, they did. He had reduced your relationship to mere stress relief, as if you were some object devoid of feelings. Yet, in spite of it all, you fell for him. Perhaps you were naive, even foolish, but you didn't care. You yearned for him and were ready to accept any fraction of affection he was willing to offer, no matter how small.

During the day, as you fought alongside him against the anomalies threatening the Spider-Verse, his attention toward you was sparse. He mostly shared only necessary information, barely making eye contact. Sometimes he didn't speak at all, and you and the rest of the team would receive mission orders and briefings from Lyla, his AI assistant.

But at night, when the two of you were alone, he became a different person. He'd whisper praises into your ear, telling you how exceptionally you fought, how much he desired you. He showed you his hidden vulnerability under the cover of darkness, the sheets their only witness. He'd gently stroke your hair and peppered your jaw and temple with kisses until you fell asleep, only for you to wake up the next morning to an empty, cold spot where he once lay.

This cycle - his coldness by day, and the fervor by night - repeated itself relentlessly for months.

And so, this is how you find yourself: disoriented, frenzied, and on the verge of tears, seated on the couch of your best friend, Peter B. Parker, in Earth-616. Cradled in your arms is his sweet daughter, Mayday, who, with her innocent touch, tries to console you. Yet her wide eyes dart anxiously to her father, reflecting her own alarm at your distress.

Peter rubs his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe we should wait until MJ gets home?" he suggests, then, with a furrowed brow, he asks, “Have you tried talking to Jess about this?”

You shake your head vigorously. "No, I haven't told anyone. I have no idea what to do," you confess, your voice breaking.

Peter, ever the caring friend, gently takes Mayday from your arms and sets her down. He turns back to face you with a sympathetic gaze. “Do you..eh.. know who the father is?” he inquires softly.

You shake your head again, even though deep down, you know the truth. “The father is out of the picture. He doesn’t know, and he never will because he doesn’t want kids,” you whisper, fighting back tears.

As you and Peter sit down on the couch in his cozy living room, you find a sense of comfort being around him. His experience as both a superhero and a parent seems like it could be a beacon in this storm you're facing. The room is quiet, save for the soft ticking of a clock on the wall.

“You know, Peter,” you begin, your voice almost a whisper. “I’m terrified. What if the baby has powers? How am I going to protect them, especially if...if I can’t stop fighting anomalies?”

Peter looks thoughtful. “That’s a valid concern. First, you should know that you don’t have to do this alone. There’s a whole community of us, and we stick together. If the child does have powers, she or he will be badass like Mayday, right?”

You nod slowly but then anxieties pile on top of each other in your mind. “But... how can I hide this? Nobody and I mean nobody is supposed to know that I’m pregnant. Especially not...” You trail off, not finishing the sentence.

Peter rubs his chin, deep in thought. “We could look into modifying your suit, maybe talk to some tech geniuses in the Spider-Verse about creating something that can shield or conceal the pregnancy.”

You roll your eyes. “That kinda defies the ‘nobody is allowed to know ‘ordeal, Peter. You have to promise me that this stays between us.”

“I promise,” Peter says sincerely.

Silence fills the room again, and then you voice another fear. “Peter, what if...what if I’m not a good mother? What if I mess this up?”

Peter smiles warmly. “You know, I had those same fears when Mayday was born. I think it’s normal for any parent. But, take it from me, the fact that you’re worried about being a good parent means you’re already on the right track. You’ve got a good heart. Trust it.”

You look down at your hands, fingers interlaced. “Thank you, Peter. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” he says with a reassuring smile. “We’re family, in this weird, Spider-Verse kind of way. But maybe… and I am sayig this as a father myself… reconsider telling the father. I can’t imagine any guy wanting to give up this.” He says, pointing to his precious daughter playing with a napkin she found on the floor.

"Maybe you should reconsider telling the father," Peter's words are echoing in your mind like a haunting melody. A part of you yearns for that possibility. Perhaps you're not alone in this. Maybe, just maybe, Miguel wants this as much as you do.With newfound resolve, you set off for the Spider-Verse headquarters, expecting to find Miguel tucked away in his office, immersed in maintaining the spider verse or as he calls it "arachno- something-multiverse-thingy” or something similar to that.

Upon reaching his office door, you pound on it sharply. No response. Frowning, you knock again, a little harder this time. When silence continues to greet you, you slowly turn the doorknob and peek inside. There he is, hunched over his desk, lost in a world of numbers and codes.

"Miguel, I-" you start, but his sharp voice cuts you off.

"No," he interrupts, his tone cold. "Did I say you can come in? Dios mio, why are you always so damn clingy?"

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You stare at him, taken aback by his blatant disregard for your feelings. You can feel the beginnings of tears prick at the corner of your eyes, but you will them away.

He doesn't mean it, he doesn't mean it like that. This mantra plays over and over in your head, like a broken record. You take a deep breath, forcing down the hurt his words cause.

"Look, Miguel," you begin, struggling to keep your voice steady. "There’s something we need to talk about, and I think it's important for you to listen to me."

“Fucking hell, woman! What exactly don’t you understand. I’m busy. I don’t care about your little problems, right now.” he barks, not even looking up.

“Miguel,” you speak up, forcing the words out through clenched teeth, “ I’ve never asked anything from you. Not once have did I ask you to stay, to feel the same I feel, to fucking talk to me when people are around. Please all I am asking you is to just ... listen to me, fpr once.” Your voice grows stronger as you speak, a determined fire igniting within you.

Miguel finally looks up, his eyes meeting yours. For a moment, he seems taken aback by the resolve he saw there.

He rubs his temples. “Can we do this later?”

“No!” you shout. “It’s always later with you. You’re like...like a ghost. Just a figure in the hallway. I don’t need a figure, I need a person! I need someone who listens when...”

He glares at you, his eyes narrowing. “Okay, okay I will listen just not now. Whatever it is, it can wait.”

“No, it can’t,” you retort, your voice shaking a bit. “Why is it that every time I try to talk to you, you just brush me off? Am I that insignificant to you?”

He stands up abruptly, the chair skidding behind him. “This? This is what you want to talk about?” he says with a tone of annoyance. “Look, I have a million things to deal with and-”

“And what? And I’m not one of them? Just five minutes, Miguel! That’s all I ask!”

The room is tense. Your heart is racing. His eyes are fiery. It's a standoff.

“And what is so important that you have to disrupt everything right now?” he challenges.

Your breath catches in your throat. This is it. You're about to say it.

“I...” you stammer. “I need to tell you that...”

Suddenly, the door to the office swings open and Jess storms in.

“Miguel, we have a major issue in Sector 12! The anomalies...” she starts, then catches sight of your tear-streaked face. “Oh, am I interrupting something?”

Miguel seems to shake off the tension and slips back into commander mode. “No nothing important. What’s happening in Sector 12?”

You can't believe it. Just like that, he turns away. It feels like your heart is being squeezed.

Jess starts rattling off data and scenarios. The two of them are talking, but you don’t hear it anymore. All you can think of is how you almost told him. How you just wanted five minutes.

Your hands shake and you quietly step out of the room. The door closes behind you, and it feels like a chapter that you can’t read has been sealed away.

The next day you are on Earth-8311, an anthropomorphic animal-dominated universe. It's the home of Peter Porker, the Spectacular Spider-Ham, and you can't help but find it amusing.

The mission: to transport an anomaly, which resembles an enormous floating jellyfish, back to its home universe. It's been pure chaos here, and you are determined to set things right.

The team: Gwen, Hobie, and Peter B. Parker. You're all in your suits, eyes sharp, and webs at the ready.

"Alright, Spiders. Let's round this jelly up and send it home," Peter B. Parker takes charge, shooting a web towards a nearby building.

You swing alongside him, your thoughts a whirlwind. The world around you blurs - the animal citizens, the bustling cityscape, the strange yet familiar surroundings.

The anomaly appears before you, thrashing and pulsating as it floats through the sky. It releases blasts of energy that ripple through the air.

"Watch out, Sunny!" Gwen calls out as she dodges a blast.

You, however, are a split second too late. Your reflexes are off, your movements sluggish. The blast sends you spiraling towards the ground.

Hobie swings in and catches you mid-air, his guitar strapped on his back. “Get it together, Sun!” he shouts over the noise, his punk-styled hair waving wildly.

You shake off your daze and look up to see Peter B. Parker shooting webs to pull the anomaly back down, while Gwen is deploying a device to open a portal back to its home universe.

Your heart races as you focus on the task at hand. You need to get this right, not just for yourself, but for the life you’re now carrying. Your suit seems to glow even brighter in the chaos.

With a final combined effort, you manage to lasso the anomaly and push it through the portal. The anomaly disappears, and the portal closes behind it.

The team regroups on a rooftop. Gwen is catching her breath, Hobie is tuning his guitar, and Peter B. Parker gives you a concerned look.

“Are you okay?” Gwen asks, her voice laced with worry. “You weren’t yourself up there.”

The weight of the secret you’re carrying feels unbearable. But you're not ready to share it.

“Promise me you won’t tell Miguel about this,” you say, your voice barely audible.

Gwen raises an eyebrow, while Hobie crosses his arms. Peter B. Parker simply nods.

“Nah, Bossman doesn’t need to know about this,” Hobie says, and there’s a firmness in his voice that is strangely comforting.

Back in the HQ, your head spins, and your stomach feels like it's doing somersaults. You mumble a quick excuse about feeling nauseous and practically sprint to the nearest restroom.

Meanwhile, Gwen, Hobie, and Peter B. Parker head to the cafeteria to grab something to eat.

As they sit down at a table with their trays, Gwen breaks the silence. “Is it okay if I say that this mission was kind of easy? Like, I’ve seen Sunny take down Doc Ock from Earth-818, and she did that without any problem. So what was that today?” Gwen’s concern is apparent.

Hobie, munching on a sandwich, nods in agreement. "Yeah, it's like her spidey senses were jammed or somethin'. Never seen her like that before."

Peter B. Parker looks thoughtfully at his sandwich, then glances up at Gwen and Hobie. He’s torn, having promised you to keep your secret but also wanting your friends to understand why you were off your game.

"You guys remember when she fought Morlun on Earth-001? She was a totally smashin’ it, and today, she nearly got turned into spider-paste by a floating jellyfish. That ain’t right," Hobie adds.

Gwen’s eyes suddenly widen. "Oh my God! Do you think she’s in trouble? Like, something from her universe? Or maybe she's having an identity crisis! Should we stage an intervention?"

Peter B. Parker clears his throat. “Maybe she’s just having an off day.”

Gwen’s eyes narrow as she scrutinizes Peter. “You know something, don’t you?”

Peter scratches the back of his head, obviously uncomfortable. “Nope, no idea.”

Hobie puts down his sandwich and leans in. "Oi, mate. Spill your guts. There's something dodgy going on. She's always been our burst of sunshine, lifting the mood. But now she's... dimmed. What's going on with our Sunny, Parker?"

Before Peter B. Parker could answer Gwen’s barrage of questions, Jess - Spider-Woman - appears, her belly showing. She takes a seat at the table and, oblivious to the serious conversation that was taking place, asks them about their latest mission.

"So, how did your mission go?" Jessica asks, while munching on her Burger.

"Nothing to report, Jess," Gwen answers, a little too quickly, her face all sunshine and false smiles. Peter simply nod in agreement.

“Yah, all good!” Hobie chimes in, flashing a grin that seems a little too bright.

“How about you? How are you holding up?” Peter asks Jess, trying to steer the conversation away from the mission.

Jessica shrugs, not overly concerned, and bites into her burger. "'M good. You know, I'm so glad I can finally eat a burger again. At the beginning of my pregnancy, practically every food made me nauseous, especially after swinging around on missions.”

Suddenly, there's a moment of collective realization among Gwen, Hobie. It’s as if their spider senses are tingling in unison. They exchange knowing looks, all of them silently putting the pieces together.

Gwen’s eyes are wide, Hobie’s eyebrows are raised, and they both turn to look at Peter, who simply nods.

Jess, noticing the silent exchange, squints at them. “What is up with you guys? You’re acting weird. Well, weirder than usual.”

“Uh, nothin’!” Hobie says, a little too quickly.

“Yeah, just tired from the mission,” Gwen adds, trying to play it cool.

Jess rolls her eyes and stands up. “Alright, weirdos. I’m gonna go find some normal people to talk to,” she says jokingly and walks away.

After she leaves, the trio leans in.

“Sunny’s pregnant, isn’t she?” Gwen whispers.

Hobie's eyes are as wide as saucers. “That would explain everything!”

Peter B. Parker nods. “We need to be there for her, but remember, it’s her news to share when she’s ready.”

They make a pact to support you without pushing you to reveal anything before you're ready.

As you walk back into the cafeteria, you find your friends huddled together. They break apart when they see you and welcome you back with smiles and light conversation, but something in their demeanor is different but you can’t put your finger on it. They are being more attentive, considerate, and frankly, a little too curious about your well-being.

"Are you sure you're okay, Sunny?" Gwen asks for the third time since you sat down. Her concern is genuine, but her intensity is slightly off-putting.

"Yeah, do you need anything?" Hobie offers, his eyes gleaming with unspoken curiosity. "Food, drink, or maybe... pickles?" Pickles? Thats oddly specific.

There's a burst of laughter from Gwen, and even Peter is suppressing a chuckle.

"What's up with the pickles?" You ask, looking at them suspiciously.

"Oh, nothing!" Gwen says, a little too quickly, trying to hold back her laughter.

"Hmm, pickles and ice cream, a weird combo, innit?" Hobie wonders aloud, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

Again, there's suppressed laughter, and you look at each of them, a realization slowly dawning on you. You turn to Peter, your gaze steady and serious. "You told them, didn't you?" Peter looks shocked, but quickly composes himself. "I didn't exactly tell them, per se," he confesses, "I might've confirmed their suspicions when they asked, but they figured it out on their own. Spider senses and all that jazz.”

Before you could respond, Gwen and Hobie jump in, both talking over each other in an attempt to apologize.

"We're sorry, Sunny," Gwen says sincerely. "We didn't mean to invade your privacy, it's just that... we're worried about you. Please don’t be mad."

Hobie nods, adding, "And we're right behind ya, whatever comes our way. We've got your back, no doubt about it."

You are happy, while the situation isn't ideal, but at least you're not alone. You have friends who care about you and, despite their unconventional way of showing it, they are there for you. You smile, comforted by their concern, and grateful for their support.

"Yeah," you finally say, "I guess we’re gonna need a lot more pickles and ice cream around here, huh?"

“Sooo...who’s the dad? Is he hot?” Gwen, leaning on the table with her elbows, asks shyly after a while.

You let out a long sigh, “He’s very hot... but also a colossal jerk.”

Peter raises an eyebrow. “You took my advice and talked to him then?”

You shake your head, your eyes starting to well up. “No, I tried. But he wouldn’t listen to me. He was busy, and I guess I wasn’t important enough. So, the baby won’t be either,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hobie's eyes narrow, and his face is flushed with anger. "Who's this bloke, eh? I swear on me nan's grave, I'll give him a right proper earful! No one treats our Sunny like a tosser and gets away with it!"

Gwen jumps in, her eyes wide with speculation, “Wait, is he a Spider? Is it Peter? Or the other Peter? Or—”

“Guys, guys!” you cut them off, your voice cracking. “Please, it doesn’t matter. He made it clear where I stand, and it’s not with him.”

There’s a silence that settles over the table as your friends look at each other and then back to you. Their faces are a mix of concern, sadness, and frustration.

Peter B. is the first to break the silence. “You don’t have to go through this alone. You’ve got us. If the dad doesn’t want to step up, then he’s missing out on something amazing.”

Gwen nods, her eyes firm with resolve. “Yeah, we’re family. We’ve got your back, no matter what.”

Hobie, still fuming, finally calms down enough to say, "All you gotta do is whistle, love, and we'll be there in a blink. Even if it means thumping some manners into this mystery idiot."

You can't help but crack a small smile, despite the tears. You’re overwhelmed by the love and support your friends are giving you.

“Thanks, guys. You don't know how much this means to me.”

They all reach out and there’s a group hug right in the middle of the cafeteria. You didn’t know how much you needed this until it happened.

Part 2 “Webs of Fate”

a/n: Thank you guys for all your love on this fic so far.I really appreciate each like, comment, reblog <3. I still can’t reply to your comments so please if you want to tagged (and are not already) comment on part 2 and I’ll do my best and add you.Also I am open to requests, critic and wishes. Have a wonderful day. xx

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cheralith · 11 months

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to a heart's content — 「 single father!miguel o'hara x reader 」

content warnings ; fem!reader, use of she/her pronouns, "mother"/"daughter"/"wife" used, parental death, mentions of child abandonment, not too much mention of him being spider-man

contains ; single father!miguel o'hara, boss!miguel o'hara, assistant!reader, hints of pining, just some good ol' fluff for everyone's current favorite dilf, angst w/ comfort, heavy need of editing prob, not beta read

notes ; purely self-indulgent to fuel my love of found family trope apologies

parts: one two three four (tba)

Single Father!Miguel O'Hara whose life revolves essentially around one person—his daughter—but to be one of the heads of America’s largest corporation and bearing the responsibility of keeping Nueva York safe and sound whilst simultaneously being a single father was not exactly something that Miguel O’Hara could juggle so easily. Hell, he’s even surprised that he’s made it so far without losing his absolute sanity considering he couldn’t even recall the last time he was able to rest properly without his attention being wavered to something or someone else.

Single Father!Miguel whose hands always filled to the brim with tasks and obligations. Miguel wished he was able to clone himself twice in order to have three Miguel O’Haras attending to each of his duties soundly, but alas, Alchemax and the matter of his mind can only do so much.

Single Father!Miguel whose ever so lucky to have you as his assistant to at least help with two out of three of them. You entered the picture around three years ago, when he had caught the eye of his superiors and had used his intelligence to their own advantage, disguising it as a promotion of sorts. You were given as some sort of gift to them as a way to help ease his workload and he truly couldn’t be more thankful for your existence—if he doesn’t necessarily show it most of the time from his stoic countenance he masks on 24/7. While not exactly a carbon copy of him, you, by far, come rather close, and Miguel will take whatever comes to him in this day and age.

Single Father!Miguel who notices that you're obedient and demure, though rather soft spoken and a little too apprehensive for his liking at times (he had noticed, before you became his assistant, that your coworkers would shovel their workload onto you and you’d accept with little complaint but evident hesitation; he wonders if it was the given similarities between you and him that made him choose you as his assistant). You dressed well, hung onto every word he said, and spoke out when properly needed. You were a good aid to have around—great, even.

Single Father!Miguel who trusts you as both his assistant and a human being enough to leave his precious daughter in your care knowing full well she would be in good hands. Sometimes Alchemax would work him overtime, sometimes his duties as Spider-Man would interfere. No matter what it was, it delayed him from seeing and attending to his daughter’s needs, and thus, he had asked you once in a while to pick up and babysit his daughter after your usual 9-5.

Single Father!Miguel who, at the beginning, once in a while asked you to pick his daughter up from school. Once in a while turned into occasionally. Occasionally turned into sometimes. Sometimes turned into constantly, and next thing Miguel knew, you were the one that his daughter and teachers would look out for during school pick up time. He didn’t expect that you would become his assistant even outside of work, but you did, and Miguel can’t exactly turn back time now. He’s labeled you as his child’s unofficial secondary caretaker—you’re even listed as an emergency contact.

Single Father!Miguel who thinks you’re too polite for your own good. Miguel had asked you once if this was a burden, being his assistant both in and out of Alchemax, and if it became too much that you were more than free to quit at any sudden time without consequence. You had merely replied that you understood the struggles of being a single parent and that he shouldn’t be ashamed of asking for help when it was needed.

Single Father!Miguel who notices that Gabriella views you more than just her occasional babysitter. When he'd come home late at night, he was usually greeted by you two doing something together, whether it be doing math homework together, baking cookies, you reading aloud to her, or just simply talking, he'd always catch you and her almost... bonding.

Single Father!Miguel who often dwells on the memory of young Gabriella asking innocently why she doesn't have two parents like the rest of her classmates, why she only had one parent compared to everyone else after witnessing she was the odd one out during Family Day. Miguel didn't, and still doesn't, have the courage to tell her that her real mother had abandoned her to him, leaving Miguel in the dust. Miguel used her naivety to his advantage. He disguised it as her being unique compared to others, that some moms just came later in life; she just happened to be a late bloomer.

Single Father!Miguel who always thanks you for staying late tucking Gabriella into bed when he couldn't. You constantly tell him that it's truly no problem, but he insists on thanking you every time and ever so subtly increasing your paycheck. How could he not? Especially considering the fact you always, always whip him up extra dinner that was tucked away for him to eat during the late hours of night.

Single Father!Miguel who feels uneasy as he opens up a fridge to find the said pasta left by you one night in a glass tupperware container, staring at how neatly it’s been plated despite its standard container. He juts it into the microwave as he attempts to ignore how quiet and desolate the kitchen and the apartment is, how the humming of the microwave and the humdrum of the ceiling fan are the only noise that floats through. And when he quietly eats the pasta serving meant for one, he can’t help but gaze longingly at the empty seat across the dining table, where someone else should be seated with him sharing the same meal.

Single Father!Miguel who finally has the time to pick up his daughter after school for once in the school year, but forgot to tell you that you were able to take the rest of the day off. So you, him, Gabriella, and essentially everyone are surprised when both you and Miguel show up to pick Gabriella up after school. One of the teachers goes to gush about how she's excited to meet Gabriella's dad and what a beautiful family you all are, to which you and Miguel, evidently flustered, explain loosely your relationship to each other and how it's merely professional (to one curly-headed third grader, though, it's not—but she'd never tell you and her father that. At least not now.).

Single Father!Miguel who tags along to Gabriella's after school soccer practice for once and despite your protests about you not wanting to interfere "family time", Miguel and his daughter convince you to come watch her like you usually did on Wednesdays. He says he doesn't mind at all and if anything, could use your presence there to ease his nerves since he'd be a newcomer to the soccer parent group.

Single Father!Miguel who watches attentively to how you support Gabriella on the field from the sidelines. He wonders tenaciously if you've fallen into routine of this—from helping her get ready into her uniform to offering small suggestions that help her on the soccer field. He doesn't miss the way her eyes go towards you whenever she did something right and he especially catches onto the fact that she would gush in pure happiness from your approval when you would throw a thumbs up or a delighted nod.

Single Father!Miguel who merely blinks at the compliments given by the two friendly soccer mom next to him.

"Gabi does certainly look a lot like you, but she still has (Y/N)'s beauty and kindness, doesn't she?"

"Oh yes, I agree. Your wife is nothing less of lovely, you know, you're a very lucky man, Mr. O'Hara!"

He's so caught up in trying to process both their words and Gabriella's action on the field, that it doesn't register to him until a few moments later. Miguel attempts to butt in, saying that you're just his subordinate, but when a loud cheer from the other team erupts through, his words fail him.

Single Father!Miguel whose mind is still so stuck on what the soccer moms had said about you that he didn't even realize Gabriella had made the winning goal for today's practice match. Lying through his teeth when asked about if he saw it from her, he realizes that perhaps he should start viewing you in a different light rather than just his daughter's babysitter because the way that Gabriella looks at you with such elation when you congratulate her on her win pulls at his heartstrings ever so slightly.

Single Father!Miguel who contemplates over and over again if he should be doing this—inviting you to Gabriella's first game of the season—the two purchased tickets he held in his fist. You've entered his home a dozen of times, but this would be the first time in three years that he was outside of your own residence. He thinks he's too dressed up for the occasion, cladded in a white button up and black dress pants. A voice asks him if he's his daughter's boyfriend, and Miguel whips around to face an elderly man with a questioned look on his face.

Single Father!Miguel who realizes that it's your father standing in front of him, spare key in hand. He's quick to say no (to your father's disappointment), and introduces himself as your superior. Your father invites Miguel inside your apartment, telling him that you were out fetching groceries and jokingly mentions he uses this opportunity to sneakily fill your cabinets and fridge of food. Your father complains you're too independent for your own good, but he can't exactly blame you—you grew up that way.

Single Father!Miguel who learns that once in your life you were just like his daughter and that in one point in your father's life, he was just like Miguel. All details shared from him, he learns that your mother passed away early in your life due to cancer and ultimately left you and your father to fend for yourselves. Your father tells Miguel that you often had helped out even when you didn't need to—and it doesn't take long for Miguel to piece the pieces together. Why you barely complain about the extra workload, why your father said you're too autonomous, and why all those years ago you not only sympathized with Miguel, but understood his situation as you came from the same exact upbringing.

Single Father!Miguel who listens intently when your father quietly tells him that all he wants for you is to find a good man that would be able to take care of you properly because he believes he wasn't able to. Miguel is quick to reassure him, however, that he did a fantastic job raising a selfless, humble woman that grew to be compassionate and considerate of others' needs, that you were the hardest worker he had ever seen and that he shouldn't discredit himself. Your father goes to examine Miguel for a moment before letting out a loud, haughty laugh in your apartment and jokingly (not really) tells Miguel he hopes that you'll marry him one day, or at least someone like him.

Single Father!Miguel whose resolve dissipates when you walk into your apartment to find your boss and your father talking amongst each other. He sits silently and awkwardly as you complain to your father about dropping by without any warning before you ask him what was he doing here in the first place. Your father takes his leave, winking at Miguel with a glint in his eye, leaving you two in your apartment alone.

Single Father!Miguel who finally gathers up the courage to ask you if you'd like to attend Gabriella's soccer game with him. You interject with visible hesitation, telling him that it was implied that it was a family-only event and you'd hate to intrude onto something so intimate, but he's quick to reassure you that his daughter would love to have you there considering all the help you had given her during her practices—if anything, she would need you there for your support.

Single Father!Miguel who tells you that Gabriella had shown visible distress last night when Miguel told her that you might not be able to come due to your non-familial relationship with them. He almost begged you to come with them, as Gabriella had even threatened to quit soccer altogether if you weren't there to witness her first game. When you give in after moments of contemplation, Miguel truly couldn't believe his luck.

Single Father!Miguel who roots alongside you for Gabriella and her team, watching oh so closely just in case someone from the other team did a dirty trick on his precious daughter. He'd sometimes occasionally glance at you, only to see you completely zoned in and focused on Gabriella's playing like the rest of the parents, offering your support through compliments and encouragements that his daughter always caught and would visibly improve from. When she finally scores the winning goal per usual, she's quick to ignore the cheers coming from her teammates and parents to run off the field and not look for Miguel first, but for you.

"Did you see me?!" Gabriella exclaims excitedly as she flings her arms around your waist. "Did you see what I did?!"

"I did, yes," you laugh, attempting not to stumble over from the impact with visible glee and crouch down to her height. Pride written all over your face, you grin. "And I'm so incredibly proud of you."

"It's 'cause I did what you taught me," she declares. "I pointed first and then I shooted!" She uses hand gestures to reanimate her play on the field.

"Shot, Gabi," you correctly gently, your fingers going to automatically comb out the tangles out of her hair like you usually did after practices. "It does come handy, doesn't it?"

"Yeah!" Her eyes go to see Miguel, who doesn't stalk too far behind with open arms and the same proud look painted on his face. "Dad! Didja see me?! Didja see that I scored?!"

Miguel lets out a once-in-a-blue-moon chuckle and lifts his daughter into his arms, her arms wrapping around his neck in an affirming hug. "I saw very clearly, mi cariño, and I can't wait to brag about how my daughter scored the winning shot for her team," he compliments warmly.

Gabriella goes to point gleefully in your direction. "It was all because of Miss. (Y/N)," she declares, not knowing that her statement would make a rush of heat bloom onto your face.

"O-oh no... I only... w-well," you stammer out meekly, trying to find the right words. "I'm actually not too knowledgeable on soccer... I only repeated what I found online and—"

"Thank you," Miguel starts off fondly. "(Y/N), truly. Thank you."

You stare at him. "Mr. O'Hara..."

He sets Gabriella down for her to join her rejoicing teammate and pats the small of your back with a grateful look plastered on his face. You were so used to seeing the rather stoic and often tired side of Miguel O'Hara that you forgot he, too, was capable of smiling at times, so when you spotted the small of a grin on his lips that was for you specifically, you felt something in your chest jerk a little bit.

"If it weren't for you being here," he starts off quietly so only you can hear. "Gabi wouldn't have participated at all. She wanted you to come so she'd have enough courage to play because she was so used to you supporting her," Miguel glances at his daughter giggling about on the field. "So it was understandable that if her biggest supporter wasn't here to cheer her on, she wouldn't exactly do her best."

You blink slowly at him, digesting his words in order to truly savor them for all that they were. "I was just—"

"—doing your job?" Miguel finishes for you. He shakes his head. "Last time I remember, 'attending your boss's daughter's soccer games' wasn't on your job description," he says, earning a soft chuckle out of you despite his rather flat tone.

"I suppose so," you murmur with an evident warmth in your eyes, one that Miguel is sure Gabriella has seen numerous times and will continue to welcome as long as you're around.

So when after a dinner celebration at her favorite restaurant, after the star player is tucked into bed after a long day's work, Miguel takes it upon himself to do the what he thought was the impossible for him but possible for Gabriella.

"Stay safe out there," Miguel directs quietly as he helps you put on your coat again. "And again, thank you for today."

"It was my pleasure, Mr. O'Hara," you reply, "And I actually had fun today, so I can thank you for that."

He escorts you down the apartment complex to the lobby and begins to watch you leave, the words on his tongue tipping ever so slowly before they spill the moment you're about to exit through the doors.

"(Y/N)."

At the sound of your voice, you turn to him with a questioning look on your face. "... yes?"

Miguel opens and closes his mouth like a fish for a couple of seconds before blurting out, "Are you free tomorrow evening?"

He scans your face for a reaction before surprise paints itself on your moonlit features. "I-I suppose I am," you nod slowly. "May I ask why?"

"Gabi is having a sleepover at one of her teammate's house," Miguel coughs out and shoves his hands into his pockets to hide their fidgeting.

"Do you need me to drop her off...?" you ask, clearly puzzled.

"No, um," he clears his throat again. "I was... I was actually wondering if you'd... if you'd like to check out that new restaurant that opened up on Clark..."

Regret pools in his mouth the second it falls from his lips and he begins to internally conjure some sort of half-assed lie, perhaps saying something along the lines of the company wanted him to review it for a potential cater in the future or that a friend of his worked there, but when he sights your eyes softening with the same warmth from earlier, he lets you take the reigns on fate.

"I'd quite like that," you murmur, a modest smile on your lips.

a/n ; i told you i was going to give into temptation. wrote this on a plane with no wifi on the way here (thank god for offline editing!)

anyways, i'm trying to squeeze this bit out before my plane ride tmrw since i've been travelling for the past week and a half! i'll be returning home soon where i can finally write to my heart's content, phew! i just reallyyyyy wanted to write something for miguel adjdjfkfalwf but fear not! we shall be back to our regularly scheduled program soon!

as always, thank you for reading and likes+comments+reblogs are always appreciated and never unnoticed（╹◡╹）♡!

#spider-man: across the spider verse #across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #atsv miguel #across the spider verse x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #fem!reader

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deviouz · 6 months

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thinking about peter parker hunting down vigilante!reader <3

he’s practically buzzing with excitement when he finally catches you. he’s still holding his wrist out, fingers bent towards the palm after sticking you with the webbing, keeping your hand splayed out across the windowsill after attempting to make a quick escape.

and, god, it’s almost as if you can feel his eyes trailing your body behind his mask, all the while you’re snarling and throwing insults left and right. no matter how hard you try, those claws embedded in the gloves of your suit are no match to the webbing keeping you from giving him something to really laugh about.

the unconscious tremble that wracked through your body definitely go unnoticed; the way his laugh got muffled behind his mask as he stalked over had your thighs pressing together and heartbeat quickening.

and how you ended up pressed against the wall, hips jutted out and hands webbed to the wall as he fucked into your slick heat with an almost animalistic ferocity was beyond you. he had pulled and clawed at the bottom half of your suit until it ripped in just the right place, much to your disgruntlement. still, it sent an all too familiar tingle down your spine to be the main subject of his heightened strength.

and when all is said and done, when you’re left shaking and panting desperately to catch your breath, you can feel his chin press against your shoulder.

“so… same time next week?”

#deviouz thoughts 💭#peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader smut #peter parker smut #spider man x reader #spider man x reader smut #blurb

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ichorai · 11 months

Text

snow spider ; miguel o'hara.

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

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

words ; 4.4k

themes ; fluff, slight angst

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

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

main masterlist.

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

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

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

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

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

A beat of silence.

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

You took a step back. “My universe…?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But you’re hurt.”

“I’ll heal.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The months pass by in a blur.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then there was you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked.

“What?”

Peter froze, realizing what he’d just said.

“What?” he parroted.

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

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

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

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

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

Miguel was crazy about you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oka—mmph!”

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

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

“He was right,” said Miguel.

“Who was?”

“Peter. I do have feelings for you.”

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

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

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

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

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

He was falling in love with you.

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

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara angst #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fanfic #across the spiderverse fanfiction #spiderverse fanfiction #miguel o'hara imagines #miguel o'hara #spider-man 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #atsv fanfiction

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messylustt · 11 months

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౨ৎ ‧˚

𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥) — 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬

miguel o’hara x fem!reader. 1.3k words

fic masterlist pt one next part

i’ve gotten some help with my spanish and have approved/fixed accordingly (if you have any suggestions on the spanish please speak up!); enemies to lovers trope; not obvious, but subtle jealous miguel; human(not spider-person)!reader; spanish term of endearment ‘chaparrita’ — miguel o’hara has never liked you—a human—joining the team as the ‘person in the chair’. he’s made his distaste for you clear. but when he speaks certain spanish words you don’t understand, he reveals that his annoyance of you is by the fact that you make him feel ‘hot’. soon, a deal surfaces, his promotion benefitting you both.

Miguel watches as you fiddled with the different tech machines, tapping with a focused gaze. He tilted his head, staying by the large spider, having spread out screens filled with the many mission's info.

He had a slight scowl on his face, his expression usually one considered moody. But this time he had a reason for it. You.

You were a pain to Miguel, far too nice to every spider-person. He hadn't liked having you here the moment a few of them recommended you. They described you as the 'person in the chair'. You were smart, sure, but Miguel didn't think you belonged here. You weren't a spider-person like the rest of them, you were human.

He jumped down, landing beside you. You look to your left, having to tilt your head up at his sheer height. You gulp. You've always been nervous around Miguel O'hara. You didn't think he once smiled, his gaze only seeming to harden, especially when you would speak.

So, you kept it minimal. Only talking to him when it was required. "O'hara." You nod, turning quickly back to your work. "Anything I can help you with?"

"Nothing you can help with, y/l/n." His small jab at your inability in many areas, such as swinging from buildings with web, made you straighten your spine.

You ignore his tone, again not daring to meet his gaze. "Then, I'm sure Jessica will be here soon to help with anything."

Miguel's eyes wander your stiff posture. He could tell that he made you nervous, and part of him relished in that. It helped him think that you knew your place.

When you noticed that he wasn't leaving, you go to say something else, when Hobie and Peter burst into the room. Both yours and Miguel's attentions shift. Hobie easily moves towards you, making you smile. He reached his hand out as you did what many would call a typical 'bro handshake'. But Hobie instead chose to call something far from normality, in his prominent british accent.

Hobie was one of the ones who recommended you for this job. And you've been beyond grateful since.

"How's ya bloody borin’ shit goin’?" Hobie asks, leaning down to see whatever nonsense you had typed up.

"Describe 'boring shit'." You say, your tone turning smug.

He scoffs, eyeing the screen again, before giving up and grabbing your chin to turn back to the tech. "Keep working."

You chuckle, just as Miguel speaks. "Aren't you supposed to be out?"

Hobie looks to Miguel, straightening his guitar strap. "What—should I start callin’ ya boss, and kissin’ ya boots?"

Hobie has always been one to 'do his own thing' and completely bypass the rules. Miguel looks unimpressed, as Hobie holds his hands up in fake innocence. Peter chimes in. "He doesn't wear boots."

Hobie glances at him. "Thanks Peter. I didn't know."

Peter doesn't have time to respond before he's running after his swinging daughter. "Just get back to work." Miguel says. "That includes you, Peter. And didn't I say not bring her here?" He sounds exasperated, as he pinches the bridge between his nose.

You spin in your seat watching as Peter sends back a 'sorry', as he disappears, running through the large exit door. Hobie is quick to follow sending you a nod and a smile.

You wave them off, feeling the tension flood back into the room now that it's just you and Miguel again. You swiftly spin back in your chair, your fingers going back to tapping, as your legs spread comfortably.

Miguel looks back at you, before running his hand down his face, muttering. "No abras las piernas como una invitación." (Don't open your legs like an invitation.)

You pause, glancing at him. "What was that?"

He glances back at you, eyeing your confused expression. You, of course, didn't know spanish.

He places his hands against the desk, leaning a fraction closer to you, his gaze fluttering across your features. "Podría decirte cualquier cosa en español y no sabrías lo que quiero decir." (I could say anything to you in Spanish and you wouldn't know what I mean.)

"You know I don't know spanish." You mutter.

"I know. And the thought of you being so unaware, makes me want to tell you..." He leans closer to your ear, making your pulse beat rapidly. "....cuanto me haces arder, cariño. (how much you make me burn inside.) And it’s beyond annoying.”

You sigh, pushing slightly away from him. "Look, I know you find me annoying." You begin. "That's fine. But just...can you at least give me somewhat of a chance?"

"Do to what?" He asks, crossing his arms, as he leans back against the desk.

"To prove I'm helpful."

"Helpful?" Miguel asks, tilting his head. "You want to be helpful?"

"Of course."

"Then find a more suitable job." He stands to walk away.

"If you want me gone, then why don't you fire me?"

He pauses for a moment. "Sadly, I need a proper reason for that. So, if you want to be helpful to me. Then fuck something up."

"But while you're here being useless you should probably learn spanish." Miguel says as he walks out the door.

You huff, staring after him, watching as his back muscles contracted in a way that made you look away, gulping. Fucking Miguel O'hara.

;;

You sit, feet up by the tech, as you tapped away on your phone. You got a congratulatory 'ding' whenever you got a word or sentence right, and a rather loud 'booing' sound when you got a word or sentence wrong.

Yes, you're trying to learn Spanish. You sadly hadn't remembered word for word what Miguel had said to you, so you couldn't put it through translation. He must have purposefully spoken fast so you wouldn't have time to catch each word and remember.

'Me gusta ir al museo.' Your phone spoke. It translated to 'I like going to the museum' You had gotten it wrong, putting ‘park’ instead.

You groan, your head knocking back as your eyes shut in annoyance. You were only smart in certain areas. You let your phone drop to the desk, as you stretch, keeping your eyes shut tight, as if you could find the Spanish language hidden behind them.

"Spanish?" A deep voice spoke, making you jump, swiftly getting to your feet and spinning.

Miguel stands in his signature spider suit, your phone in his grasp. "I didn't think you'd actually listen to me."

You snatch it back, switching it off, as you scratch the back of your neck. "I was just..." You drift off sighing. "I like this job."

Miguel watches you closely. "You're committed, I'll give you that."

You smile, the word 'progress' swirling in your brain. "I learnt a sentence." You say, brows creasing in remembrance. "Me gusta...ir al...musio?" (I like going...to the...musio?) You say this more so as a question as you meet the amused gaze of Miguel.

"Ir al museo." (To the museum) He corrects, knowing the generic 'hobbies' sentences most kids learn.

"…I was close." You say, smiling, before you realise who you're talking to, your nerves returning.

Miguel nearly kicked himself for feeling warm at the small smile that you gave. You were trying to learn spanish—loosely—for him. "Can I make you a deal?" He suddenly asks.

You narrow your eyes a fraction. "What kinda deal?"

"One where we can help each other." He mutters, stepping closer. "You want to stay, correct?"

You nod.

"Then you're gonna have to convince me that you'd do anything for a mission."

You straighten, eyes widening at the chance to prove your worth. "I lead most missions, so loosely, you'd have to do anything for me."

He's much, much closer, eyeing you. "But we can make this a ‘give and take’. Let me teach you Spanish—something you'll need working here, close by me, and in return for every lesson, you have to do something for me."

You eye him. "Like what?"

"Anything." He answers. "Because you'll have to do anything that's required for those missions. Call it practice, or proving your worth, chaparrita."

You lick your lips thinking. You can't see anything inherently wrong with this 'deal', so you nod. And that earns you the very first smile you've seen from Miguel O’hara.

i know this is short, but I just wanted to see if any of you guys would be interested in a full fic like this…

also if you would like to be in a taglist for this story — just comment

#the miguel effect #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara across the spider-verse #miguel o'hara #across the spider-verse #across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #atsv #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara one shot #Spider-Man-2099 #spiderman 2099 #marvel #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader

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wyvernest · 8 months

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mating szn

PART 2‼️ (part 1)

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

warnings: horny miguel, smut, fluff, dryhumping, unprotected p-i-v, breeding kink, scent marking, primal play, rutting miguel, possessiveness, reader is ovulating, descriptions of oral sex (f!receiving), rough sex

summary: miguel comes home feeling extremely needy

Stumbling and yelping in sync with his heavy footsteps catching up fast, you reach the first floor.

Before you get to offer yourself a fraction of a second to decide your next move, the hallway carpet curls up under your feet, slipping behind as your arms instinctively shoot forward for you to catch yourself.

Bringing one knee to your chest, you're prepared to launch yourself forward like an olympic runner.

Too bad.

Miguel's broad hands grip your waist from behind, once again sending jolts of adrenaline throughout your entire system.

You scream in delight through playful giggles, calling out his name breathlessly and maliciously arching into his hold.

You're getting wetter by the second seeing just how horny he is.

He pushes you down, forcing you on both knees. The deep pants from the chase quickly turn into something else as you feel his weight on your back, feel him get on one knee behind you.

His grip on your waist tightens. He brings his crotch up to your ass, grinding his erection up and down your clothed slit.

His hips roll slowly, rubbing the thick shaft of his hard-on lazily and mindlessly, the motions shallow and enticing.

"Ah, come on, baby", He leans forward, nuzzling his face into your soft hair, basking in the slightly-sweet, flowery scent of your shampoo. With a messy kiss to your neck, he speaks, raspy with need,

"Can't help it." More wet, sloppy kisses to your neck, more thrusts of his rock hard cock against your drenched folds through the thin material of your panties and his boxers. "I need, I need - ugh" the words fail to form as his hot breath hits the back of your neck, followed by more kisses and bites.

He brings a hand to the meat of your right thigh, grabbing harshly. He then lets it slip up over the mound of your pussy, cupping you and pushing two fingers over your folds, still stopped by your panties. You shiver at the feeling of his huge, warm palm touching your core so pervertedly, so desperately.

He can feel the wet patch on the cotton fabric, proof of reciprocated desire.

His senses once again catch the unmistakable, ever so dearly intoxicating aroma of you, so ready for him. His eyes roll back with a silent inhale, his bare chest rising and falling on your back.

He wants nothing more than to bury his face between your plush thighs and lap at your essence, pussy-drunk and keen on overstimulating you; licking and sucking at your clit, circling around your damp folds with his tongue until you're pushing him away, begging for a break, swollen and exhausted.

He can almost imagine you, tangling your fingers in his hair, pushing and pulling, either smothering him into your velvety cunt, needy and on the edge, or trying to escape his grip. He'd only hold you down, burly arms curling around your legs, just so he could make you come again, to feel you pulsate, feel your juices coat his mouth.

But with the way his cock twitches, begging for friction and stimulation, he can't think straight.

He feels an overwhelming urge to shove himself inside you and fill you with his cum, to see his cock rearranging your guts through your belly, to empty his balls in your womb and watch his seed dribble out of you, and push it back in with his still hard cock, hold it there so that it takes.

His warm, eager hands travel down to your panties, and in their loose hold as he attempts to drag them down your thighs, you once again snake away, giggling with a sardonic grin that doesn't do well in covering up the desire evident on your features.

"¡Mierda!" He grunts, and you enter the bedroom, reaching the balcony door and turning around. You catch the sight of Miguel clawing at the door frame to take the turn and come in faster.

Before you can react and take your eyes off the enormous bulge in his shorts, the defined shape of his dick protruding erotically against the material, he pounces, caging you against the wall, distancing your legs far apart with one knee.

His palms slip to your sides, not missing the savory opportunity to settle on the sides of your tits. He fondles their softness with the heels of his hands, pushing them together, pressing his whole body into yours.

You let out a barely audible moan as he corners you, almost squeezing you between his muscular frame and the wall behind you, and he almost loses all that's left of his sanity.

He kisses your temple, full of yearning. Although, he's instantly reminded that his scent has worn off of your feverish skin.

"Por favor,-" a deep groan vibrates in his chest against you, making you quiver.

"He estado cachondo todo el día," (I've been horny all day). He holds you tight against him, your tender breasts pressed flush against his pecs.

"No podía pensar en nada más que en ti" (I couldn't think of anything but you.)

You finally give in and offer a smidge of relief, sliding your hand down to grab his clothed hard cock. The second he feels you palm him tentatively, he reflexively starts rubbing himself on your hand like an animal in heat, groaning ruggedly.

"That's it." He rasps, fed up, and it's almost a threat.

He slowly walks over to the bed with you secure in his arms, but when his knees hit the frame, he doesn't drop you like he normally would. No. He's not giving you another chance to flee. A part of him loves the cat-and-mouse game he knows you enjoy so much, but the other part can already feel his fat, full balls turning blue.

Placing you down, hands still gripping your waist viciously, he gets on the bed, the mattress sinking down under his weight.

You feel your clit throb as he traps you with his thighs, taking your shirt off. His touch leaves goosebumps over your silky skin.

Under your hazy gaze fixed on his movements, he hovers above you, skipping the usual looks of adoration. Not that the sentiments were gone by any means, but he was far too needy to wait any longer.

The kiss he suffocates you with is fiery, full of all the pent up tension he had to endure.

As his mouth moves against yours eagerly and messily, you notice how it lacks his characteristic expert, methodical approach.

His lips were just as soft as ever, but devoured your every moan and breath with a fervor unfamiliar. His tongue slips past the liplock, dominating you in no time, and right when you start to adjust to the new strategy, catching up with his movements, he parts from you, breaking the kiss and sucking your soul out of you with it.

He continues his attack down your throat, biting and licking hurriedly, marking you as his.

Groaning freely, he reaches your breasts, taking them in his mouth, one after the other. His hands squeeze, roam and play with them, making you bite down on your lower lip and whine beneath him.

He suckles on the perked nipples, releasing them to catch his breath with another gravel moan. When he's done, your chest is coated in his spit; fresh, hickies already blooming over your tender tits.

The weight of his cock settles on your thigh, pressed snugly and oozing precum through a dark spot on his boxers.

Your own hands attach to his silky dark hair, caressing and brushing wild strands away from his forehead, clinging and pulling occasionally when he latches onto your breasts again after taking a few deep breaths.

Sliding lower, impatiently licking and biting over the line of your stomach, he finally gets to your panties.

He kisses the soft lips of your pussy through the fabric, the scent of your arousal driving him mad. He groans again, words slurred through the desperate, obscene licks, "Eres.." He extends his tongue, lapping up at the dampness, "..tan bonita." (You're so pretty)

Your heels are digging into his shoulder blades as you squirm and moan under his sultry touch. Through half lidded eyes, you see him bare his pearl white fangs, as if prepared to sink them into your sensitive skin.

You gasp, a little above a moan.

"Miguel! Don't - ah" You whimper as he grits his teeth around the elastic of your panties, tearing them in two with the help of one hand.

He grabs your thighs, kneeling between your legs.

Shoving his hand in his shorts, he takes his dick out, its mushroom head glistening mauve. He begins to stroke it more violently than you thought he would've taken pleasure in.

Mouth agape, pupils blown wide, he looks downright primal. Solely focused on claiming you, on stuffing you full of his potent seed, of draining his fat balls in your warm cunt until you're begging him to stop through ablaze overstimulation.

Cock in hand, incontestably massive encompassed by his proportionally large fingers, he slaps the hard, angered, heavy shaft on your tender folds, groaning at the wet sound of flesh against flesh. He rubs it over your lips, drenching it in your juices.

You notice his thighs flex, already insanely sensitive. When he eases the head in, he moans, rough and low in his throat, brows creased in pained pleasure. You whimper his name, legs quivering faintly on each side of his waist.

Using his weight to press your body down into the mattress, forcing you onto him, he slides his arms underneath your knees, throwing them over his shoulders and bending you in half.

A shiver bursts through you at the sensation. You clench around him, forcing a strangled groan out of his throat.

He braces himself down on his forearms, face nestled in the crook of your neck. Pushing in, the bulbous tip of his cock kisses your cervix as he bottoms out and gets straight to a tireless pace, not giving you the ritualistic second to adjust.

The bed creaks and squeaks with the way he's throwing himself into your cunt, pounding you into the soft cushions relentlessly.

His hips gyrate roughly against yours, his tense abdomen waving into you, dipping his meaty cock in your juices with an obscene, wet squelching, finishing each delicious swing with a quicker entry, more forceful and animalistic. His pubes brush harshly against your engorged, swollen clit, sending jolts of electricity through your core.

Skipping the tension, the build-up of speed, he drives straight to the euphoric rhythm of a release chase. His balls slap onto your ass, his pelvic bone nearly delivering bruising slams against your own.

“Ugh, oh Miguel-,” you gasp for more air, struggling to form a coherent sentence through delirium, your breaths and moans rhythmically timed by his rough thrusts.

You curl your arms around his neck, nails digging into his back and shoulders. He looks down at you, watching your breasts bounce in his face, and starts rutting harder into you, every ridge and vein of his fat cock brushing against your sensitive spots perfectly.

Each time you call for him, it's a melody, a rapturous chant that has him on his knees, his mind in cobwebs, his heart aching; and for the time being, his cock throbbing as well.

"I'm - ah! Cumming!Ugh, M- Mig- uel- !" You moan sharply, your orgasm rapidly threatening to burst like fireworks.

He frowns, panting, shallow breaths hot over your face. You convulse under his massive body, arching your back, squeezing your tits flush against his feverish skin.

He feels your pussy flutter around his cock, milking him and sucking him in. He groans loudly in your ear, pace faltering ever so slightly. The headboard of the bed keeps slamming against the room wall, spurring your orgasm on with the reminder of the force of the man above you.

With one final thrust, his whole body tenses. He pushes forward, burying his cock in your soft, warm cunt, dumping his load in much slower and shallow rolls of his hips. You feel his dick pulsate inside you with each new spurt of cum, the remnants of your own climax making you clench around him reflexively.

He stills, relief washing over him. Meeting your gaze, he watches how you come back to your senses, the blinding lust replaced by love and admiration.

He grabs your waist and pulls you down with him, laying you on his chest, his softening cock still inside you.

You close your eyes, head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

Dinner long forgotten.

divider by @cafekitsune

a/n: did my best here. the tags deadass took longer than the writing