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am-3-thyst · 10 months

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Te Quiero, Puta

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

blurb: miguel’s new secretary has seemingly caught his eye, how long can he keep his composure and try not to let his hunger overpower him?

themes: smut, slight angst, slight fluff (not proof read)

warnings: small use of spanish, y/n is not used, jealousy, possessive!miguel, mean!miguel, perv!miguel, creampie, biting, reader gets bent over desk, “slut”, “whore”, thigh kink/thigh fucking, subtle voice kink, oblivious!reader to less oblivious!reader, sub!reader

note: haven’t written smut in a while, might be a bit rusty

word count: 3.10k

It started when she had shown up in that cute blouse and tight pencil skirt, a spiderweb design embroidered into the fabric.

Silkie was her superhero alias. Miguel finding her to be a peculiar fit as his secretary, she handled both jobs at once. He couldn’t lie and say he was impressed, though his rough, reserved and egotistical demeanour hadn’t faded regardless of her and her oh so very tight skirt. Sure he’d taken a couple of glances downwards where the tight material dug into her thighs deliciously, while she was oblivious and her doe eyes would just look up at him sweetly.

He pursed his lips whilst he stands at his monitors, the screens lights reflecting off his sharp jawline defining his somewhat permanent scowl that was carved into his face. Brooding at the screens, until he hears the small delicate steps from down the hall. Heels tapping against the floor, she enters with her hands under her bust, fiddling with her fingertips. Shy under his blistering gaze. A satchel filled with papers hung over her shoulder, bouncing against her waist with each step.

He swallowed at the sight of her, her hair had been tied up ever so slightly higher than usual – baring her neck to him unknowingly. How he liked to think it was all for him. He turns his body fully towards her, as she peers up at him and gives him a meek wave. Extending her arm out, she shot out a web and swung up the platform, landing in front of him. He could thank gravity at the way her legs were angled as she shot up, he got a small glance of the cute pink panties worn underneath. Between those devilish thighs. She dusted off her skirt, flattening out any crease and plucks out the few sheets of papers stuffed into her satchel.

“I’ve gotten the paperwork done for you, Miguel!” She smiled, holding it out to him. Her smile nearly glistened more than her curious, loving eyes.

It's something he often adored, though he adored the thought of her eyes twitching with pleasure and her teeth biting her lip desirably even more.

He grunted, snatching them out of her grasp. “Alright then, get back to work yeah?”

She frowned at his reaction, why was he so cruel? He could see the disappointment in her eyes, he internally chuckled to himself. The confusion and rejection in her face made his chest swell with pride, and he felt his suit tighten at the feeble sight. So cute. He thought, turning away from her and getting back to his work.

She swung down, sitting down at her desk which was at a regular height compared to Miguels. She couldn’t help but bite her lip as her heart beat rapidly in her chest. God, his huge figure, broad shoulders, his big hands – she couldn’t help but be flustered. His voice was crisp and deep whenever he spoke to her, giggling quietly to herself she looked at her own monitor. Hoping Miguel hadn’t heard her.

He did, in fact, hear her.

He could only ponder what made her emit that saccharine laugh? It swirled uneasy in his gut, the taste of it sour in his mouth.

–

He despises the sight of her with him.

Not only himself, out of the guilt and disgust that he deserves any love one would typically have; but the sight of her standing next to Hobie. Unknowing he was more of a brother to her, the view of her honeyed smile wasted on him had Miguel’s claws digging into his thighs. Lyla popped out, and tilted her head at him.

“Have you ever thought of instead, being a… y’know, asshole – you could maybe show her you’re interested?”

“That’s ridiculous,” He scoffed, glaring in her direction still. “You don’t understand the situation, Lyla. Stay out of it.”

The hologram rolled her eyes, glitching away from his vision. He grasps his food and exits the canteen swiftly, unaware of the yearning gaze from the delicate secretary he secretly cherished. Hobie tapped her shoulder, as she shook her head dumbly and looked back at him.

“Sorry, what’s up?”

“Oi, why don’t you stop working for him? Doesn’t he treat you like shit…?” Hobie questioned, biting into an apple. She sighed, twirling a strand of hair in between her fingers.

“You’re right… But I can’t help and think there’s something underneath all that rudeness. You know what I mean? There’s just… something about him. I can’t stay away from him.”

He rolled his eyes, patting her back. “Don’t get yourself hurt, yeah?” She smiled, standing up and getting rid of her food tray. Making her way back to his office, there was a dark energy surrounding him. His scowl creased more than usual, his large body tense and rigid. She swung up to him, her hand laying on his flexed arm.

“Miguel?” She spoke, eyes furrowed in worry. “Are… Are you okay?”

A subtle growl rumbled from deep within his chest, as he stared off into the distance. “You’re distracting, you know that?” He sucked his teeth, “Not only to me, but to everyone else.”

His head shot towards her, glaring down. “We can’t have that.”

Confusion filled her, the oblivious look in her face angered yet turned him on more. He hated the effect she had on him, how stupid and unaware must she be? Does she not see what she's doing to me? His large hands plummeted to her waist, gripped her tightly as she squeaked under his rough grasp. Her thighs trembled in his peripheral vision, and he loved it so much. “Do you want this?” He growled, the tone going straight to her core. “Do you want me like I want you? Say it, pretty girl.”

Butterflies dove straight into her abdomen, her cheeks red and flushed with each word. “Yes,” She whimpered out, her voice breathy and longing. “Please…”

He grasped her cheeks roughly between his fingertips, pulling her face closer to him. “Say it.”

“I want you. God, you’re all I want. Please…” “There’s no God here,” He whispered, her body shuddering beneath his touch. “Only me.” His fangs bared to her, and she whimpered desperately for his touch. Miguel’s head dove down slowly, his warm breath lingering on her neck causing her to shiver pleasurably. His teeth were so close to where he craved to dig them into…

But he came back to his senses, and pushed her away by the waist.

She ponders more than ever what she’d done wrong, whilst he mutters to himself. “Estoy loco.” (I’m crazy.) His whispers quietly, as she just stands blankly staring at the big frame of him scowling more to himself.

“Miguel…” She pleaded, “What did I do wrong?” She lays her hand on his arm, his eyes go blank, distant. “What is it?” She continued, stepping closer to him. He pushes her away more, turning around swiftly and stares longingly into the hologram of his monitor screens. Before she could speak, he dismissed her. “Leave.” He hissed, his hands curling into a fist. Trembling slightly.

“But-”

“I said go.” His voice was stern, never wavering with each breath. She nodded hopelessly, retreating away from him. She’d been unsure of what exactly to do.

One thing she knew is that it hurt her heart the way he left her longing for him.

Miguel was more distracted.

He was angry, annoyed, horny. His emotions were bottled up and he could feel the cap of that bottle ready to burst. His thoughts were engulfed by her. Her smile, her hair, her waist, the sound of her voice whimpering for him. He was so turned on it killed him slowly. It's been a while since he's felt such a loving, desperate touch. He couldn’t help but push it away, like all good things he once had.

She would be ruined;

And maybe he wanted to ruin her. Ruin her from the inside out, fuck her pretty little hole that wrapped around his thick cock so deliciously as he would pound into her relentlessly. Little cries and whines for him to slow down as he would stuff her full to the brim. He could imagine how much she would enjoy it, and possibly beg for him to satisfy her more. His cock strained so tightly against his suit, and he growled at the feel of it. His mind was going wild with the overwhelming thoughts of her, the feel of her, the sounds of her, the smell of her. He grunted, hitting his desk angrily. It had been a week since he’d seen her, and fuck it was unbearable. He missed her sweet little scent, and her glossy lips.

Sighing, Miguel snapped his fingers impatiently. Gesturing for Lyla to come out of her confines.

She popped up in front of him, peering at him curiously. “Hi, Miguel…!” She spoke teasingly at the sight of his gruff face, her voice annoying him further.

“Call Silkie.” He demanded.

“Why? Hm? Huh?”

“Just –,” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Do it.”

Lyla laughed, “Alright then.”

She disappeared quicker than she had entered, his watch ringing. He peered at the screen, her face popping up with a sense of wonder and annoyance. He grinned eternally, missing her angelic features.

“What’d you need, Miguel?” She spoke bluntly, the tone catching him off guard compared to what would usually be her bubbly, sugary voice.

“We have matters to discuss. Come here, now.”

“What matters? Last time I checked you wanted nothing of me.”

Miguel sighed, his tone becoming rough. “Come here, that’s an order.”

She rolled her eyes, nodding before she hung up. Moments later she entered through a portal into his office, right in front of him. Her foot tapped impatiently against the platform, her eyes suddenly following his hand moving up to her face. She flinched slightly at the feel of his fingertips holding her chin, tilting her head up higher. “Miguel… Don't play these games with me…”

He shook his head, “I can’t hold it back anymore.” He pushed up against her roughly, backing her up against his desk. “I need to fuck you.” His breaths became heavy, and she couldn’t deny the wetness between her thighs.

“I won’t let this become a one time thing Miguel,” She whispered to him, her voice needy. “Please…”

With that, he lowered his lips and trapped her in a rough kiss. His tongue sneaking past her lips and his claws dug into her face violently. She whimpered at the sensation. His hands then caressed down her waist, before swiftly turning her around and bending her over the desk with an unruly passion. She squeaked at the sudden push, as she felt his gruff hands slide up her soft thighs, caressing them and pushing her skirt up to her waist. Her ass at his disposal, he spanked her and she let out a cry. Miguel chuckled to himself, pulling down her pink panties in a rush. The clap of his big palms cupping both sides of her ass rang inside his office, he indulged the sound without a care, groping the plump skin in his hands.

Miguel groaned to himself, as a hand crept further between her thighs and touched the slick within. His finger slowly traveled further, rubbing her clit with his thumb. She moaned softly, arching her back slightly and pushing back against him. He quickly retreated his hands, giving her needy pussy a wet slap.

“Mmph!” She squeaked, biting her lips and closing her eyes to enjoy the pleasure he willingly gave her. He was focused on toying with her, loving it bit by bit.

“Te quiero, puta.” (I want you, whore.) He muttered, continuing another slap to her cunt. “So, so bad…” He now delved his long, middle finger into her. Squelching because of how wet she was, he thrusted his finger in and out with a steady pace, before adding another one. She moaned out needily, butterflies going wild in her abdomen as his fingers hit the spot within her so very deliciously. “You’re such a slut,” He mumbled. “So wet on my fucking fingers, you wanted this didn’t you? Parading your juicy fucking ass around like it was nothing. You know what you do to me, don’t you hermosa?” (Beautiful.) The feel of his fingers repeatedly hitting inside her made her squeal, she shook her head dumbly at the pleasure.

“N-no! Hnghh… I didn’t-”

He smacked her ass with his free hand, the sting left behind leaving her yearning for more. “Liar.” He towered over her, reaching over to rest his head on her shoulder so he could whisper into her ear. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, you stupid whore.” He gets rid of his suit, his long veiny cock out in the open. He hisses as the cold air touches his hardness so pleasurably, he slips his cock between her plush thighs, thrusting at a medium pace. The tip of his dick hitting her clit slightly, and she arched with a feeble, desperate whine.

“Please, fuck me!” She sobbed, shaking her hips subtly. He shook his head, tutting her advances and bit his lip as he focused on the pleasure he currently received between her soft legs. He grinds into them more, his balls slapping her outer thighs slightly with each soft thrust. Miguel panted slightly, feeling himself become more desperate for the feel of her. He stuffed his fingers back inside her once more for good measure, to make sure she was spread out enough to take his thick length. His hunger for her became wilder, nearly out of control. He spanked her inner thighs as he pulled his dick out of them, her legs spread wider for him. Ready for him.

He pushed his cock into her, inch by inch. Reaching right inside of her, as soon as his balls hit the back of her thighs he let out a guttural moan, as she whined at the sensation of feeling so full. Her slick was already running down her thighs, and down to the base of his cock. The tightness of her cunt squirming desperately around him felt so euphoric. He thrusted into her swiftly, not giving her time to process the feeling of him. He was already at it, as she moaned with each slap of his balls hitting her clit sensually. He growled, as he stared down at the ripples going through her skin each time his thrusts hit her backside hard, her ass wobbling with each consistent hit.

Her desire felt intense within her, butterflies continuing to spread like wildfire throughout her abdomen whilst a hot desire spread through her entire body. All of her felt flushed, and it was so difficult to focus on so many sensations at once. “M-Miguel! Mmph… Y-Yes!” She whimpered out desperately, biting her lip in an attempt to quieten her needy moans. Miguel spanked her ass at the sight, as she whimpered out louder at the action.

“Don’t you dare try and be quiet, I love your stupid little noises.” The hunger inside him was overwhelming, as he pushed his dick roughly into her wet cunt over and over again – he couldn’t get enough of how good she felt around his dick. Better than he ever imagined. He reaches out his hands, his claws digging into her scalp and pulling her hair. Her head snapped up, eyes rolling to the back of her head from his violent thrusts into her. Her tongue lolled out dumbly, her moans growing louder by the second.

“You’re mine.” He growled. Mine, mine, mine, mine.

“Y-yes!” She hiccuped, as his dick relentlessly hit into her. “Yours! All- All yours!”

His spare hand grasped at her plush waist and used it as leverage to keep violently fucking into her, a sadistic grin stuck on his face. His pace became faster, slapping echoing through the room, as she gripped onto the desk for dear life. His grunts had mixed with her desperate moans, and a fucked-out dumb smile forms on her face. Miguel could feel the tension within them both slowly rising, as he grips her hair harder and pulls back to whisper seductively in her ear. “You wanna cum? Huh?” He asked, as she nodded lazily.

“M-mhm! Haah… Yes! M-more, please! Hngh!” She sobbed, his cock hitting deeper into her. More faster, more violently. “Keep those noises coming, puta.” (Whore.) He chuckled, hips clashing against her ass with such a divinity. Each feel of his cock had honeyed, breathy gasps erupting from her deliciously. Her body shivers at his words, her eyes blurring with desire. The wet noises from in between her legs grow louder, as they both feel themselves becoming lost in the pleasure. A coil snaps in her abdomen, and she lets out a whiny moan as her legs tremble, her cum coating the base of his cock. He emits a few more desperate thrusts, before snapping his head down to her bare neck and sinking in his teeth just right. He lets out a guttural moan, as his cum coats the insides of her warm pussy. His thrusts become sloppy, as he fucks the cum deep into her.

She whimpers at the aftermath, feeling his warm cum splurge into the depths of her cunt so nicely. Miguel is left panting on her neck, before lifting his head to lick the bite wound sensually. He pulls out slowly, they both whimper at the feel of it, and she cries quietly feeling such a loss of the fullness in her depths. Miguel stands back, admiring her cum-coated cunt – and how the white sticky liquid tries to seep out of her warmth. He laughs to himself as a drop merely drips down her thighs, he pushes it back in with his finger and she whines at the sensation once more. He pulls up her panties, trapping his cum inside her. He gives her cunt one last little slap with a chuckle, as he pulls down her skirt as well.

She has a fucked out smile, and takes unsteady breaths in an attempt to calm down from her high. She slowly turns around to face Miguel, her thighs quivering. He walks over to her in a sultry manner, looking down at her and her cute little smile. That little grin drove him crazy. The way she could be so adorable after getting fucked like a whore.

He reaches his head down and kisses her forehead. She hums happily at his touch.

Maybe he could break down his walls a little bit.

#miguel o’hara x reader #atsv #miguel x reader #spiderman #miguel o’hara #smut #angst #fluff #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader smut #female reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #spiderman 2099 x y/n #spiderman 2099 x you

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daisies-daydreams · 2 months

Note

miguel ohara x chubby!fem reader.. ( i feel so bad for requesting the same reader UGH😭.)

can you make it fluff into smut ?? :D

them just making cookies together in the kitchen, them being lovey dovey hehe. :D and you can do your own thing with the rest.

Sweetness (Miguel O’Hara x Chubby!F!Reader)

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x F!Plus-Sized!Reader Category: Fluff/Smut Warnings: Tickling (non-sexual), Swearing, Grinding, Spanking, Praise Kink, Kitchen/Countertop Sex, Fingering, Multiple Orgasms (Reader), Unprotected P in V Sex (You Know the Drill), Creampie Word Count: 2.4k+ A/N: Omg hi!! Don’t feel bad for requesting the same reader - I love writing for chubby/plus sized reader! ☺️ I hope you enjoy!

The smell of freshly baked cookies wafted through the air as you pulled out a fresh batch. You hummed to yourself as you slipped a new baking sheet into the oven, gently swaying your hips side to side with the tune you sang. You gasped when your husband suddenly dabbed a wad of raw cookie dough onto your cheek as soon as you stood up.

“Miguel!” you laughed as he quickly hid the wooden spoon behind his back, his brown eyes flickering with mischief as he raised his thick brows.

"I’m so sorry, hermosa! I didn’t see you there,” he said as a wry grin sneaked over his rugged face [beautiful].

“Mhm,” you hummed as you tried to wipe the dough off your cheek.

"Here, let me get that for you," Miguel winked before turning around to grab a paper towel. You smirked as you watched him reach over the counter, his bottom sticking out.

The perfect opportunity to strike.

Miguel froze the second your open palm loudly slapped against his ass. Your smile quickly fell when he whipped his head around, the corners of his mouth curved into a mischievous grin.

“Migs,” you warned while taking a step back. He slowly approached you like a jaguar ready to pounce on its prey. You squealed and broke into a sprint as Miguel chuckled and ran towards you. Your heart raced as he chased you around the kitchen, your combined footsteps thudding against the hardwood as you ran.

You yelped when Miguel came up behind you and pulled your back flush against his front. You giggled when he suddenly brushed his fingers against your sides.

“M-Miguel! ¡Por fa!” you howled with laughter as he chuckled against your neck [Miguel please!].

"'Please' what, mi amor?" he murmured as he brought his hands up to your armpits [my love]. You wheezed and wiggled in his grasp as he relentlessly tickled you.

"P-Please stop! My sides are c-cramping!" you laughed as your eyes began to water. His hands quickly slipped away from your pits and traveled back down to your waist. Your eyes widened a little when he pulled your plump ass against his crotch, the feeling of his semi-hard cock making heat rise to your cheeks.

“Miggy…” you said before biting your lip. Your heart skipped a beat as he dipped his head down and pressed his lips over your pulse. You moaned softly as he began to gently rock his hips forward while he painted your neck with quick, sloppy kisses.

“W-What happened to ‘Bebé, let’s make cookies today’?” you gulped as a wave of heat swept through you. His low chuckle sent shivers down your spine as he squeezed your love handles.

“I can’t help that you look sexy in an apron,” he purred while plucking at the band of your sweats. Your face felt even hotter as he pressed his lips to your cheek and ran his warm tongue along the dollop of raw cookie dough he left earlier. You whined as he flicked and swirled his tongue around your soft skin, his cock growing harder against your cheeks with every slow thrust of his hips.

"Miguel..." you whined before glancing behind your shoulder. Your husband's eyes lit up with lust as he parted his lips. Your breath hitched as Miguel's lips danced over the delicate shell of your ear.

"Such a sensitive little thing," he chuckled deeply before hooking his fingers around the band of your pants. You unconsciously arched your back as he slowly rolled your sweats and panties down your thick rear. Your supple skin jiggled as your clothes crested over your cheeks, your soft walls fluttering and aching for his intoxicating touch.

Miguel groaned softly as he cupped his palms over your ass. You yelped when he lightly spanked you, your core clenching as the brief sting crossed your backside.

"That's payback for earlier," he smirked against your ear. Your heart pounded in your ears as he wrapped a hand around your front and slowly slipped it between your thick thighs. Your throat grew tight as Miguel slid his girthy fingers over your slick folds before rubbing over the tight seam of your entrance. You moaned and fell on your forearms, balancing yourself against the counter as he teased your aching hole with his deft digits. You mewled and threw your head back as bolts of pleasure shot through your heat with every slow, tender stroke of his fingers.

"P-Papi," you moaned as he gently nudged his fingertips inside your tight cunt [Daddy]. You whined and trembled as he began to shallowly pump them in and out with a symphony of lewd, wet squelches. You screwed your eyes shut as he rubbed his thumb over your sensitive bundle of nerves; his other hand quickly working it's way beneath your shirt. You shivered as he massaged your wet opening while eagerly pinching one of your pebbling nipples between his fingers.

"Can't believe how wet you are for me already, Mami," Miguel husked into your ear as he drew slow, sloppy circles around your clit, smearing your warm arousal across your puffy bud [Mommy]. Your face burned with heat as you ducked your head into your arms, squealing as your beloved suddenly sank his digits a little deeper inside your tight pussy.

"There's no need to be shy, hermosa," your husband chuckled as he took a handful of your breast and gave it a tender squeeze. Your jaw went slack as he inched his fingers even deeper inside your slick, gummy canal, his fingertips gliding over your soft g-spot as he flicked your clit with his thumb.

"Fuck, Miguel," you whined as his digits dragged along your gummy walls.

"God, you're so warm and tight...can't wait to feel you wrapped around my cock," Miguel groaned as he slightly curled his fingers against your upper wall. Your eyes rolled back as your cunt clenched around every dip and curve of his soaked digits. You mindlessly rocked your hips forward as he spread your tight hole wide open, his other hand gently massaging your breast as he breathed against your neck.

"Fuck, I want to fill you with my cum so bad," he growled against your pulse as he thrusted his fingers at a faster pace. You tilted your head up and moaned as your body was electrified with unrestrained pleasure. "Stuff you so full that it makes a mess all over the fucking floor," Miguel's voice strained as he began to grind against your ass. You keened as you felt his solid cock glide against your soft cheeks, your body trembling with bliss as you dipped your head back down.

"M-Miguel," you mewled, your mind already swimming in a thick haze as the muscles in your lower tummy began to clench. Your husband knew exactly what your tone meant as he began to rub your clit even faster, his fingers fucking your pussy raw as he kissed and sucked on the curve of your shoulder.

You gasped loudly as he dug his fingers into the soft mound of your breast while he desperately ground his dick against your bum. Miguel's breathing grew more ragged as your walls eagerly sucked his fingers inside.

"Come on Mama - let me hear you," your husband rumbled as he shoved his fingers down to his thick knuckles. Your moan crashed over the room as you violently snapped your hips forward. Your knees nearly buckled as your cunt gripped onto his fingers, clenching them hungrily as a thick layer of cream seeped out of your stretched out hole.

"Fuck," you sobbed as your body glowed with euphoria. You wailed as your walls pulsed incessantly, your core bursting with pleasure as your mind became numb.

"Yes, yes," you panted as you relished in the feeling of relief washing over you. Your eyes shot open when Miguel suddenly slipped his fingers out of you without warning. You gasped as he made quick work of your apron and bra, your clothes quickly falling into a crumpled pile on the floor with a soft thud. You parted your lips as you remained completely bare in front of your husband: your dripping cunt on full display as he spread your thick cheeks apart.

"I'm sorry, cariño. I just can't wait anymore," he swallowed thickly before tugging the front of his pants and boxers down [honey]. A spark of heat flickered through your core when you felt his thick, heavy cock slap against your ass, a thick pearl of precum dripping down his tip and slipping down your crack. You wiggled your hips as he bent down, his muscular thighs pressed against yours as he rubbed his bulbous tip against your puckering entrance.

Your heart skipped a beat as Miguel laid one of his palms on your hip while he slowly pushed his length inside your heat.

"M-Mierda," your love grunted as he sank inch after inch of his long, hard shaft within your plush walls [Shit]. You moaned as the intoxicating feeling of fullness grew with every inch he fed into your weeping hole. Both of you gasped when he bottomed out, his thick balls kissing your lower lips as his cock throbbed deep inside your warm sleeve.

"Such a perfect, tight little pussy," Miguel praised before kissing the top of your head. You shuddered when he slightly pulled his hips back before slowly pushing them forward. Your mouth watered as your husband dragged his length along your plush walls, your pussy squelching each time he made the slightest movement.

"B-Baby, fuck," you groaned as Miguel dipped his nails into your love handles, his one hand smearing your now cool arousal across your hip. You squealed as he gently thrust into your tight heat, his breath fanning against your exposed shoulder as his chest rubbed against your back.

"Feel so good wrapped around me, hermosa," Miguel breathed. Your jaw went slack as he started to pick up the pace, your cheeks clapping wetly with every eager thrust.

"God, Miguel!" you cried out as his heavy balls slapped against your needy clit. Your chest grew tight when your beloved suddenly leaned on top of you, his arms draped over yours as he threaded his fingers between your own. You were practically standing on your tip-toes as he pounded into your pussy, your combined moans echoing throughout the kitchen as he stuffed you over and over.

"Mmm baby, that's it. That's my good girl," he purred into your ear as his hips slapped against your backside. Your legs grew weak at the feeling of your cunt making a complete mess of his cock, your juices soaking his length and dripping down the front of his thighs. You cried out as your hard nipples rubbed against the cool edge of the countertop, your walls already starting to tighten around his veiny shaft.

"M-Miguel," you slurred, your brain turned to mush as you felt him deep within your lower belly. "So close," you managed to squeal as the head of his cock perfectly rubbed against your spongey g-spot. Stars flooded your vision as his thrusts grew even faster, his dick stretching your pussy to the limit as he panted over you.

"Go on, Mami: soak this cock with your sweet cum," your husband rumbled as his tip slammed against your cervix. Your eyes shot open as he gave another vigorous thrust, the final stroke to send you careening over the edge of your release.

"Miguel!" you screamed as you tensed beneath him, your insides growing tight as another wave of pure bliss crashed over you. You sobbed and wriggled as your sex sucked him against the soft plug to your womb, his thrusts starting to falter as your pussy contracted around his heavy shaft.

"Fuck," Miguel let out a strained moan, his fingers clenching over yours as your cunt deliciously pulsed around his dick. You moaned as he continued to plunge his cock between your walls as your orgasm began to fade. Your limbs felt like jelly as you tried to balance yourself, your head still spinning as Miguel's breath faltered.

"God, (Y/N)," he growled as his cock swelled and throbbed inside you. Your pussy fluttered when he shoved his dick down to the hilt with one final thrust. Your legs trembled as you felt him stiffen against you, his muscles tense against your soft back as he released a gutteral groan. Both of you moaned as he painted your stretched walls with thick, heavy ropes of his potent cum.

"Sí..." Miguel grunted as he released one final rope of his seed [Yes]. You shivered as you felt his warm spend leak out of your hole and down the inside of your thighs. Your legs shook as a few drops of his cum splattered onto the floor, staining the hardwood with milky white drops. The two of you remained still for a few moments, your bodies trembling against each other as you caught your breath.

Miguel suddenly perked his head up and sniffed the air. You opened your eyes and tilted your head as he squeezed your hands.

"Cariño...did you remember to set the timer?" Miguel murmured. Your heart dropped into your stomach as your eyes grew wide.

"Shitshitshitshitshit," you spat out quickly as your husband scrambled off of you. You whimpered at the sudden emptiness inside you as his cock slipped out with a slick "pop". You clumsily waddled over to the drawer next to the oven as the smell lingered in the air. You muttered to yourself as you slipped on some thick oven mitts, your heart racing as you threw the door open.

You wrinkled your nose and covered your mouth as a plume of smoke escaped from the confined space. Miguel was quick to throw one of the kitchen windows open while you yanked the sheet out. You coughed and spluttered as you slammed the pan onto the stove, your eyes and nostrils burning as the smoke began to dissipate.

Both of you exchanged weary glances as you eyed the fire alarm...only to sigh with relief when it didn't go off. The room was soon filled with your combined laughter as you eyed what looked like pieces of charcoal glued to the pan.

"Maybe you should let me put them in next time," Miguel mused as he stepped towards you. Your cheeks grew warm as he wrapped his muscular arms around your shoulders and pulled you close. You gave him a timid smile as he gently pecked your forehead.

"That'd probably be for the best," you giggled.

----

Thank you for reading! ❤️

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madlittlecriminal · 6 months

Note

I’m mad today : Gynecologist!Miguel sinfully exciting 👹 any thoughts on it?

Appointment ⥓ Gynocologist!Miguel O'Hara × Patient!Female!Reader [a.u.]

honestly, if he was my gyno, i probably wouldn't be scared and uncomfortable to go (jk...or am i?)

Warnings: smut, hand kink because...BUDDY I-, fingering, obviously unrealistic pap test, kind of dubcon, short but not exactly a blurb, no orgasm

"Relax for me, pequeña." (little one.) You relaxed for him, but you heard him groan when he looked down at your wet cunt. "It's perfectly fine and normal to be attracted to your doctor, cosita bonita. (pretty thing). However, if you feel any discomfort, don't feel ashamed to let me know, okay?" You nodded as he slid two fingers inside you with ease, into your cervix and pressing down onto your abdomen from the outside. A soft gasp escaped your lips as your eyes rolled back in pleasure. He bit his lip at your reaction, but quickly composed himself. "You alright?" He asked, raising a brow. "Mhm."

"Verbal consent," he said softly, his fingers still inside you. "Yes, I'm alright, Doctor O'Hara." His title and last name falling out of your lips made him shift in his seat from how you sounded out of breath. He let his fingers curl inside you, making you moan and arch your back. "Doc..." he got up from the chair and leaned in closer to your ear. "You have no idea how perfect you feel. Estas tan mojadita, pequeña." (You're so wet, little one.) "It's your fault, doc." He chuckled. "The best thing you could ever blame me for."

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fandoms-writings · 4 months

Text

Tell Me Everything

Part 1

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Word Count: 2.2K

Summary: You spot a certain someone, causing your emotions to come to a head when you realize, you don't want to sneak around anymore. (based on the prompts: "What are we doing"/"Why are you doing this?")

Warnings: really this one is just angst, sorry lol

A/N: thank you so so much to @banana-cheese-cake for beta reading this for me <3

Masterpost

It was like your body forgot how to breathe on its own, your lungs emptying in a rush and struggling to inflate again as you gazed at the man in front of you. The very familiar man you almost ran up to before seeing a woman with him.

He looked just like Miguel, but it wasn't - not your Miguel at least.

Your Miguel wouldn't be out in public like this, with a woman and a child walking with him. He'd come straight to your apartment, usually through one of the windows. You'd take turns enjoying each other's bodies and after just a brief conversation while you cleaned up, he'd leave out the same window.

Sometimes he'd even portal away right in your living room.

You'd always been tempted to follow him, but you knew you shouldn't. You didn't belong where he was from, and he didn't belong here. Clearly.

"Hey," Your friend's hand grabbing your arm shook you from your stupor and you sucked in a breath, turning to face them with wide eyes. "You alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Uh," you glanced back to where your worlds Miguel had been, to find the space empty, "Yeah," You turned back to her, wrapping your sweater tighter around yourself, "I'm fine, just thought I saw someone I knew. It wasn't him though."

"Okay. . ." She looped her arm through yours, tugging you close to keep warm in the cold wind and you began your trek again to the bookstore, trying not to pay any attention to the ache in your heart at seeing a version of Miguel you didn't know with someone who wasn't you.

You tried to focus on Megan's rambling about a new book coming out, how excited she was to finally read the ending to a series she'd been obsessed with for years. You tried to get your brain to absorb the words she was spewing at you, you really did. But you couldn't get your mind to forget about that man you saw.

He looked so different from the Miguel you knew - he looked happy.

Thinking about it, you weren't sure you'd ever seen your Miguel even smile. He was always so weighed down by his life, his responsibilities. From what he'd told you, he didn't have a life outside of his work. Hell, he barely had time to come see you.

Which, you realized very early on in your situationship, that he shouldn't even be doing. He shouldn't be in your world, you both knew that. But recently, you've had enough of sneaking around.

You'd had enough of not being able to tell anyone about him. Of going everywhere alone. Sleeping alone. Dining alone. Walking. Talking.

Living.

And now, with the knowledge that your reality's Miguel had a life and was happy and married - it made you wonder what you didn't know about your interdimensional booty call. And as you spent the afternoon with Megan, each reading your own books, you could feel the discomfort of that curiosity fester in your chest and you knew it would grow into something dark and ugly if you didn't get a chance to talk with your Miguel. And soon.

~~~

A heavy sigh deflated Miguel's chest as the sight of your apartment came into view. He could see the kitchen light on as he swung his way over, sticking to the shadows of the night as best he could.

He wasn't planning on coming to see you quite yet, he still had so much work to do, but something in his gut told him he needed to get to you as soon as he could. That he needed to check on you.

He was only planning on stopping by, peaking in to see if you were okay. He wasn't going to come in, he wasn't going to say hello. Just stop, check on you, and leave. In and out. Easy.

Except it hardly ever was.

He got up to your window, peeking over the window pane to try and catch a glimpse of you but you were nowhere to be seen. There was an abandoned mug of what he assumed was tea on the counter, the steam rising from it in thin tendrils toward the ceiling. There was a book haphazardly thrown onto your couch, something that made confusion and worry flood his system - you'd never do that to one of your books.

"Lyla."

"Yeeees?" She appeared over his shoulder, peeking into your apartment, mimicking him.

"Stay on alert, but only cut in if it's an emergency." He ordered.

"Oh boo," She glitched to stand in front of his nose, "I'm never going to meet her am I?"

He refused to answer, glaring at her from the other side of the mask and she sighed.

"Fine, call me if you need any advice." With that, she vanished and he tested the window, sighing slightly when it slid up and allowed him in.

He silently crawled in, crouching near the window as he left it open for an easy escape route should he need it. Taking in your apartment, it was clear something was wrong, you never let it get this messy. You usually took pride in how clean you kept it, how organized it was. To see dishes piled in the sink, crumbs on the floor, a basket of forgotten laundry in the hallway and shoes scattered across the floor had Miguel questioning if he was even in the right apartment.

But he knew that couch, he knew the photos on the shelves and the paintings on the walls. He was familiar with the plants on top of the bookshelves, with the coupons pinned to the fridge. He was in the right place.

That was only further confirmed for him when he heard you, your shuddering breath coming from down the hall. His attention snapped to your bedroom where it sounded like you were and he called your name, quickly making his way to your door.

Your door was thrown open right before he could reach it, and his eyes widened at the sight of you. Your eyes were rimmed red and sunken, your lashes wet and your brows coming down into a scowl that sent ice through his veins.

Your name left his lips in a soft mutter and you folded your arms around yourself, as if protecting yourself from him. As if he would reach out and harm you or throw harsh words at you.

His heart thundered in his chest as his nerves grew and his hands shook as thumbed the switch to remove his mask.

"Why are you here?" You asked, your voice raw and cracked.

"I wanted to see you," you pushed past him, making your way to the kitchen and he followed, hot on your heels, "I had a feeling I needed to check on you."

You huffed a breath at that, grabbing your still warm tea. "Well," You stopped, leaning against the counter as you lifted the full cup to your lips, "you've checked on me. Now what?"

He angled his head. He wasn’t used to you being this cold, this closed off. “Did something happen?"

You let loose a dry chuckled, void of any humor, "You could say that." You set the cup down with more force than necessary and stared at him. "I have a question for you."

His back straightened out of instinct, his spidey senses telling him to prepare for whatever it was you were about to ask as the hair on the back of his neck stood stiff. "Okay."

"What are we doing?" It filled the air in an almost silent whisper.

It took him a moment to respond, his eyes searching your face for any clue as to what you were talking about. "What do you mean?"

"I saw you," You started, crossing your arms again, "Well, not you you, but my world's version of you."

Miguel could feel his heart begin to sink. He'd been so infatuated with you, he didn't even think about your reality's version of him. About what that would mean for you - for the both of you.

In his silence, you continued, "He wasn't alone either." You looked up at him, tears lining your lashes no matter how steady you kept your voice, "He was with a woman. And a little girl."

Miguel felt the words hit his chest like a freight train and he stumbled backwards, turning on his heel to shield himself from your intense stare.

"So let me rephrase it," Your voice followed him as you stayed rooted in the kitchen and he began to pace, "Why are you doing this? Why are you really coming here?"

He turned to you, his hunched shoulders dropping when his eyes met yours, finding nothing but confusion there. So he told the truth, "I can't stay away."

"But you can't stay either."

He sighed, shaking his head 'no' as he watched you.

"You come and you go," you start, letting the tears fall, "You come in here, have me in whatever manner suits you, and then you leave. You leave me to my life and you go back to yours. But I don't even know about your life. I don't know about you. Not anymore than you've told me, which isn't much. I want to know you. I want to go out with you. Go on walks or go to dinner. Anything outside of this apartment." You took a breath to steady yourself, "I'm tired of being alone, Miguel."

He watched from across the room as you made your way over to him, stopping in front of him and tipping your head back as he towered over you.

"I'm tired of sitting here, waiting for you to come back," You whispered, "Wondering if you'll come back at all."

He raised his hand to your face, the callous of his thumb rough against your cheek as he stroked it. Not a word was spoken as he caressed your face, his other hand coming up to your other cheek.

He'd told you he was from another reality, that he worked to keep the multiverse from falling apart.

He'd never told you what happened. He never told you about the reality he'd accidentally destroyed. The wife and daughter who no longer exist because of him.

He noticed your lips part, as if you were about to say something, and he rushed to get it out. All of it.

"My name is Miguel O'Hara," He started, his voice rough, "I'm Spiderman, but in a different way than the Spiderman who lives in this city. I run the Spider Society in Nueva York on Earth-928. We protect the Multiverse from fracturing and unraveling, as much as we can. I'm gone all the time because we're trying to hunt down and contain what are called anomalies - beings who get ripped through the multiverse and wind up in a reality that isn't their own."

"So you're an anomaly when you come here," You started, "I know all of that already."

"I can't stay because I don't want to risk your reality falling apart."

Your body tensed under his hold as you stared up at him. "How do you know that's what would happen? It's not like I'm some important politician or celebrity. How do you know it would unravel my reality?"

"I don't know for certain," He stated, his voice dropping so low that if there were any other noise in the room, you wouldn't hear him, "But it's not a risk I'm willing to take. I've already had to watch people I love vanish right in front of me because I was too selfish to leave their world. I won't let it happen to you too."

"What happened?" You asked.

He paused, a lump in his throat stopping him from spilling all of it to you. "If I tell you the whole story," He started, trying to ignore how nervous he sounded in his own ears and how his heart had begun to race. "You might hate me for it."

Your fingers wrapped around his wrists, pulling his hands away from your face as you held them in between the two of you. "I deserve to know who you are," Your voice was gentle as you spoke, "Don't you think?"

He tightened his hold on your fingers, clinging to your hands like a lifeline, praying that after he told you his whole story, that you wouldn't see him as the villain he often thought himself to be. He nodded. "You do."

"Okay," You led him over to your couch, sitting down and waiting for him to sit beside you before speaking again. "Tell me."

Miguel knew that if you were to allow him to keep coming to you after hearing his whole story, to let him keep seeing you, that he'd have a lot to make up for. But he was okay with that. He'd spend the rest of his life groveling if that's what it took.

He just needed to tell you, and let you decide if you hated him or not first.

So, he took a steadying breath and told you all of it. Everything from before he destroyed that reality, to working fixing other realities, to finding you. He even included how he fell in love with you, no matter how hard he tried not to.

Everything.

As always, thank you for reading! Reblogs, comments, and likes are all appreciated!

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spideywriter · 10 months

Text

Coming Soon - EYES FOR YOU (Miguel O'Hara x Reader)

PREVIEW:

(Y/N) (L/N) has been Spider-woman since she was thirteen. Now an adult, she is recruited to join the Spider Society, and meets the leader Miguel O’Hara.

“You should rest, cariño,” he told her.

“What does cariño mean?”

“Nothing important.”

He’s been watching her, and doesn’t intend on stopping.

THINGS TO KNOW:

- Reader is a year younger than Miguel, and AFAB. - Warnings will be included before each chapter. - Chapters will be posted on Tumblr, A03, and Wattpad. - Miles is a part of Spider Society. - Masterlist is in the works.

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guilty-pleasures21 · 2 months

Text

The perfect guy

I'm wondering whether to post once a week or twice a week. I've already drafted the entire story, so the parts should be posted regularly.

The project

The new guy

The lie

The new body

The hospital

The first time

The suit

The virus

The escape

I got the idea for this from the song below, but I drew inspiration for the storyline from this fic that I love! Please check it out if you like mine!

Warnings: explicit descriptions of masturbation including fingering (fem).

----------------------------------------------------------

She tossed her bag aside and collapsed onto the sofa, exhausted after a long day in the lab. The TV switched on in front of her and her AI's handsome face appeared on the screen.

“X?” Miguel asked, his expression arranged into one of concern. “¿Qué pasa, amor? (What happened, love?)” X smiled at the term of affection. He’d started using them a while ago, but she wasn’t sure what had given him the idea. Sure he could have found it in a dictionary or some book or TV show online, but there was no actual reason for him to say it: it wasn’t like he could physically experience feelings and emotions. No matter how much she might have wanted him to.

He liked it when she smiled. Well, he supposed he liked it - he wasn’t sure what it meant to ‘like’ something, but he’d always feel this spark in his programming every time he saw her smile and he'd do anything he could to replicate it. He rearranged the pixels making up his features into a smile that reflected hers.

“I’m just tired, Miguel,” she reassured him. “It’s been a long day.” She’d spent the entire day finishing up his heart, but she still hadn’t made a dent in the seemingly infinite list of all the things his human body would need.

“Do you want to take a shower?” Miguel suggested, following her usual routine after a tiring day. “I can order you dinner?” She was a pretty bad cook - despite the numerous times he’d patiently instructed her on a few basic recipes - so he was used to having to order her food most nights. If only he had a physical body, then he could cook for her; he could take care of her, like he’d read about and seen people doing for their partners in the vast amounts of media he’d consumed online.

X nodded happily and pushed herself off her seat. “Thank you.”

She headed over to her bathroom and set her phone down by the sink before taking her clothes off. Miguel followed, transferring himself to the smaller device so he could keep up with her.

“Which playlist do you want tonight, querida?” he asked, opening up her music app in preparation.

“Hmm, ‘love songs you’d sing along to in the car’?” His first thought was whether she thought about him whenever she listened to the playlist. She must have been thinking about him: it was why she’d created him, after all - to be the ‘perfect guy’. But … there was still so much he couldn’t give her - namely, touch. He’d read about human touch; seen the effect that stimulating someone’s body could have on their physical and mental state. And he could feel that same spark in his code whenever he pictured the two of them touching each other like that - when he simulated himself being able to give her that. But then she’d wake up and all he could do was chase after her on whatever screen was closest, his code slowing down as he lamented the distance between them. He started up her playlist and another spark hit him when she began singing along happily.

“Querida,” Miguel began when she’d stepped out of the shower and finished drying her hair, “can I look at you?”

Her entire body heated up at his request. He couldn’t feel emotions, so he didn’t understand shame, giving him no reason to hesitate when asking her for such things. But he wasn’t able to feel lust either, so she wasn’t sure why he’d kept asking her for it after that first time she’d accidentally let him see her naked. She bit down an amused snicker and propped the phone up so he could see her exposed form.

He’d already taken all her measurements so he could recreate her form digitally whenever she got stuck in the lab, but he liked looking at her. He liked the delicate column of her throat, the perfect perkiness of her breasts, the smooth dips of her waist. Her body was just so mathematically pleasing that his electrons would fire all at once whenever she let him look at her; another feeling he always ached to replicate. “Can you touch yourself?”

X squeaked with embarrassment at his question; she really should see if she could try to programme self-consciousness into his code. She brushed her hair behind her ear and lowered her gaze before fidgeting in place shyly. “Um, where?”

Her lips were curled at the ends and she’d keep shooting him quick glances before breaking his gaze again: she was shy. Which meant that she really did like him after all.

“Your breasts,” he decided quickly. “They’re so pretty, cariño. Just like the rest of you, mi amor.” He lifted his gaze to hers and flashed her a mischievous smile. X bit her lip at the sight, then reached a hand up to squeeze one of her breasts gently. Miguel kept his eyes trained on her as she continued to touch herself.

“Can you show me your p*ssy?” he asked her, prompting another shy squeak to fall out of her mouth. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen her do that, but that was another thing that had happened by accident - sort of.

She’d sit down with him most nights and listen as he shared with her whatever new information he’d learned that day. Then they’d go through which parts she wanted him to keep and which she wasn’t too fond of, allowing him to adjust his personality accordingly. But there had been one night when he’d asked if he could try talking to her - sexually. He’d revealed to her that he’d seen her search history - even though she always made sure to put him into sleep mode and delete all of it after she was done pleasing herself - and as her partner, he wanted to be the one to do that for her. She’d hesitated at first, nervous, but he’d slowly convinced her with the reminder that he was made for her and that he was an AI anyway, so what was there to be embarrassed about? And then holy shit! The way he’d murmured into her earphones, his voice low and thick like honey? The filthy things he’d said to her, promises of all the things he’d do to her once he had a physical body? She’d come even faster than the first time she’d ever touched herself! She pulled her chair over and sat down on it, spreading her legs apart. Her phone brightness increased almost immediately, like its power supply had shot up at the sight of her naked.

“You have such a pretty little p*ssy, cariño,” Miguel praised her, his voice low and sweet, “so soft and so cute. I love it when you touch yourself, querida, your delicate fingers playing with your tender clit. Can you imagine how much bigger my fingers will be, cariño? My thick fingers pumping in and out of your drenched hole, your c*m dripping all over my hand as I please you. Would you like that, mi amor? Would you like me to please you like that, mi princesa preciosa?”

X nodded as she brushed her fingers along her sensitive nub, her body beginning to get aroused as she imagined him touching her like that. “Yes! Yes! Please, Miguel, please … I want you so bad, querido!”

Miguel chuckled and she shivered at the husky tone of his voice.

“Show me,” he commanded her, his processor starting to speed up at the sight of the desperate expression on her cute little face. “Show me how bad you want me, mi amor.” Her legs twitched as she slipped two fingers inside herself, the movement easy thanks to the slick c*m dripping out of her poor little hole. She spread herself a little wider as she pumped her fingers in and out of herself and Miguel felt a flurry of sparks attack his system as he watched her please herself to the sound of his voice.

“I want you to take your c*m and spread it all over your breasts, mi princesa,” he told her, his camera moving to focus on the way her chest heaved up and down with shallow breaths. “Then I want you to finger your nipples while you keep playing with that pretty little p*ssy of yours. Look at how desperate she is, querida; look at how badly she's begging for me to fill her up. Do you want me to fill her up, mi amor? Do you want to feel my cock stuffed inside that tight little p*ssy of yours?”

X whimpered as she nodded again, her body beginning to contract just at the idea of his fat cock filling her up so very nicely. He was going to feel so good, so effing good once he was real, his hard body pressed up so nicely against hers.

“Mmm, you want to feel my thick cock stuffed inside that tiny little p*ssy of yours?” Miguel asked, refusing to let up until he beautiful little body was shaking and shuddering with pleasure for him. “You want me to stretch you out and fill you up while you sit on me and let me do whatever I want to you?” X let out a choked gasp of agreement, imaging herself being held up by his hard length as his warm hands played with her body however he wanted.

“What do you want me to do to you, querida?” Miguel pushed. “How do you want me to touch you while you sit on my cock all nice and pretty for me?” Holy shit! She could just picture him licking and sucking on her breasts as he thrust his hips into hers, his hands arching her lower back as he pumped himself in and out of her.

“I … I want …” A desperate whine escaped her throat as she lost a rational thought and Miguel chuckled at the helplessness in her tone.

“You want me to touch your breasts?” he asked, knowing exactly what she'd want from him once he was real, once he had lips to kiss her, hands to tease her, teeth to nip at her. “You want me to stroke and squeeze those delicious little breasts of yours while you sit on my cock, all pretty and waiting for me to fill you up with my c*m? You have such pretty breasts, querida, I'm gonna eat you up while you're sitting on my cock and letting me fill you up with my c*m.

“You're such a good girl, querida,” he praised her, determining from her now clumsy movements that she was quickly reaching her edge. “So pretty and so sweet, letting me fill you up whenever I want; letting me relieve myself inside of you whenever I need it. What a good girl, querida.”

X whined loudly at the huskiness of his voice, at the thought of his c*m filling her up entirely, her body bent backwards over the chair as he devoured her breasts hungrily. Her body tightened and she bit her lip before shuddering uncontrollably, her p*ssy throbbing and contracting around her fingers as she reached her climax. She slumped over in her seat once she was finished, still panting for breath as she glanced up at him.

“Slow down, Miguel,” she warned him softly. “I don't want you to cause another blackout.” It had happened before, when he'd run his programme too quickly and started overheating - an incident that she noticed only ever occurred when he was watching her touch herself. His code was always fine when she turned him back on again though, so she could never figure out what caused the sudden power surge. Well, aside from the fact that he got … excited? If that was even possible for a computer system to do.

She was so nice to look at when she came, that blissful expression on her face, her perfectly curved body shaking and shuddering for him. If he could yearn, then he yearned for the day he could make it happen in real life; the day he could actually do to her all the things she wanted him to. He switched off some parts of his programme and waited for his processing speed to slow down again so he wouldn't go into overdrive. “Your food's here, angelita.”

X grinned as she stood up and grabbed her pyjamas, relaxed now that she'd found some release. “Thank you, querido.”

Miguel smiled at her use of the term. She didn't speak to him like that often - not as often as he did to her - and he wasn't sure why. He'd tried asking her once, curious to know if he'd done something wrong, but she'd just stammered awkwardly before telling him that she didn't want to talk about it. He abandoned the thought as she went to get her food, chasing after her as she left her bedroom.

Dr Osborn strode over the freezer room, his path lit up only by the emergency lights dotting the ends of the corridors. He pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door, then continued on his path to the locked metal unit with his junior scientist's name on it. He opened it up and, with gloved hands, carefully extracted the human heart she'd been working on when she thought he wouldn't notice. He admired the perfect vessels and valves adorning the beautiful organ, then cautiously placed it right back where he'd found it. Then he marched back to his office and dialed the confidential number they'd given him.

“Hello?” he began when a gruff voice on the other end of the line greeted him. “I have someone who can do what you've been asking for.”

Tags: @jadeloverxd

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moondirti · 10 months

Text

animalic (6)

← chapter five // series masterlist

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader rating: mature word count: 4k summary: misery makes good company warnings: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, angst, i mean it guys, miguel o'hara is really not nice in this one, fighting, death/extinction, morally questionable characters, weapons of mass destruction, implied drug withdrawal, reader is given a backstory notes: apologies for what's to come. it's okay if you hate me after

“Don’t move. You’ll make it worse.”

There’s a warm hand cupping the back of your head, callused fingers spread to steady the junction between it and your shoulder. It’s the first thing you notice when you wake; that, and the breath fanning across your face.

You think it odd. Signs of life pound beneath you like the febrile concoction of a dream, burning hot in emphasis that you’d survived. A heavy pulse behind your brow, the headache pinching at every sense until they all dim to conductive static. Your tongue, pasty on the roof of your mouth. The hind of your arm itches, the urge running bone-deep, humming from flesh gracelessly torn apart by a gutter. When you shift to examine it, a fire roars up your neck, the smouldering pain robbing you of any effort.

(The only other time you’d been this uncomfortable, you were bitten by a spider the third month of your internship with Alchemax. The puncture site didn’t burn so much as the delirium that followed.)

“What did I just say?”

And, there’s that voice. You find it difficult to discern its more unique attributes, words muffled from behind the wavering pane of your lucidity – yet, even still, it stands as the most tangible thing present. Deep, resonant. Smoked with a ruggedness you can feel in your teeth. It doesn’t occur to you why it seems so unfamiliar; perhaps it’s the fact that you catch it through its source, your ear pressed to a muscled chest. Or, that’s it’s whispering.

You’ve never heard him whisper. Not to you.

The need to retaliate swells once you realise who holds you. It’s nothing productive, not the string of questions you should be asking – what’s happening, where are we; but it’s the only natural instinct that overcomes you. When you attempt to make good on it, though, the clutter of jokes, gripes, and snubs tangle in your throat, emerging as little more than a groan.

And the act wears you more than it probably should, exhausted tremors wracking your frame. A tender ache ripples from a point on your ribcage – separate from the area you’d fractured at the quarry. The pressure here is more centralised, a focused bruise you locate the source of with a wriggle of your elbow, when a rock comes loose and clatters to settle underneath you. It joins a mound of similar rubble, a pseudo-cushion of chalky cement broken off the larger slabs surrounding you.

You assume they do, at least – based on what you can tell of the terrain behind your back. In reality, you have no means to confirm your circumstances. The space around you swims in ink-blot darkness, the type that is almost material, where sheer absence of light could be considered an element of its own. You squeeze your eyes shut, then widen them, and find that there’s no difference between the two.

So – dark, dusty and… cramped. You’re positioned across Miguel’s lap, his legs running under and perpendicular to yours. Neither of you can stretch them to their full extent, however, forced to cross and bend in unwieldy ways, tangling further in each other's limbs. Your clothes are worn out enough to allow you to detect when any surface of his body – tense abdomen and thick thighs – twitches, thrumming with a molasses-slow tension that starts to diffuse through you.

Not a scenario of his own choosing, then.

But the turn of events that might’ve converged to this are lost on you, white noise fluffing the space they’d evacuated. Last you recall, you were staring down a cop car, the lingering comfort of a child’s trust filling you with a remarkable sort of purpose, that which you cannot place. Had you acted against that convict? Or left it up to the man cradling you?

As if on cue, he speaks.

“You’re trapped under a collapsed building.”

He says you like he’s not a confounding variable in this equation. You know it’s meant to single your blame in this, stranding it somewhere where you can brood without cross-examining him or why he’s here too. It nests on a well of guilt you keep suppressed for good reason, irking you in a particularly special way.

“Figured that out for myself, thanks.” Despite the trouble you put into getting the retort out undisturbed, it ends up sounding more unconvincing than not. Miguel waits for the coughing fit you have afterwards to subside before pitching in his acknowledgment.

“Did you, now?”

Little shit isn’t even trying to hide his sarcasm.

You ignore him, continuing with your scepticism. “I’m just wondering why we’re still here.”

Because it’s a genuine conjecture. While you’re not a part of the educated camp in spider-hero abilities – being so clueless to the extent of your own – you’re far too familiar with that infamous super strength. You’d sensed the difference for yourself; your increasing aptness in carrying hefty weights, the fluidity with which you cruise through life, physically unperturbed. And you’ve been on the receiving end of the spectrum too, your skin littered with scars that point to the sheer power of your companion.

A few tonnes of demolished concrete should be a walk in the park for him.

He clicks his tongue like it’s obvious. “I pulled under a steel arc in time for the debris not to crush us. If I disturb this pocket, or try to rearrange a tunnel, then I run the risk again.”

The logic makes sense, as much as you hate to admit it. Of course, that doesn’t stop you from picking at the contrivances in his language. It was you when discussing what went wrong, and now it’s I when it comes to the out. You realise it’s probably unintentional. Somehow, that makes it worse. He must truly believe you’re nothing beyond a malevolent fuck-up; some villain willing to sacrifice herself for the greater demise.

(The latter might have its validity. It’s the former you hold issue with.)

Likewise, you also ascertain an easy fix to all this – on account of your spectral properties. And, if you were a better woman, it would’ve been feasible. Phase out, crawl through until you breach the open, get help.

It’s long since been established that you’re not that person, though – and you’ve come to accept your own incompetence. You don’t mean to die here; you’re not sure if you want him too either, for all your ire. But your immateriality is a fickle thing, recurring at the most inopportune times, in the smallest increments – a potential problem for the doubtlessly long crawl it’d take to escape. You don’t want to imagine what would happen should you solidify within the walls.

Resignation seems easier than tempting it.

Miguel must recognise the option as well. As it stands for him, he can’t afford to let you go, nor is he desperate enough to trust you yet despite it. You don’t bring it up then, maintaining the upper-hand by his misunderstanding of your capacity.

(Maybe you are evil.

Or, just tired.)

“That’s okay. I think it would be funny if we passed like this.” You pitch, nudging your cheek to urge the smile clearly lacking in your tone. There’s no humour behind your choice of phrase, and it’s a jarring step back from where he’d been, expounding himself. You suppose it might be a clumsy distraction from the exact gravity of your predicament, yet even that rolls over in your brain, not quite satisfactory to dissolve as truth. “It’ll make a nice story for the people who dig us up.”

His chest puffs, filling with an irritated inhale. In the same movement, his fingers constrict onto your cranial base; it has the adverse effect of bracing your neck for the sudden shift, minimising the soreness triggered by any activity. You decide to take it as the warning it’s meant to be instead.

“Eres patética.” He murmurs, sinking back down. You wince when his clutch weakens, pain flaring. “And whiplashed.”

You purse your lips, critical. “I’ve had worse.”

“Sure.”

“My arm–”

“Will be fine.” As if to punctuate, he reaches for the wound. A clink sounds when he taps it. “Used the nanotech off my suit as a bandage.”

You should have caught that it doesn’t sting like it would’ve if exposed. Similarly, his hands are gloveless. Bare – while the rest of him isn’t. You’d felt the dry surface of his palm, the fixed warmth it emanated, but for some oversight, you hadn’t considered that he was touching you. Skin-to-skin, the simple size of his fists dwarfing you in every measure.

A stone lodges in your throat.

“Did– How’d you know?” You pry, referencing the perpetual tenebrosity you’re suspended in.

What he replies with shouldn't shock you, not as much as it does. But the air’s shifted to a nuanced degree, a hesitation substituting loud anger. It's the awareness that he's just as tuned in to you as you are him, sympathetic to try and redirect you off the brink of death. Or, more likely, it’s the poignant impression of his fangs, wedged in your flesh, his tongue lapping up the very same path.

(And the wanton moan it’d triggered.)

“I could smell the blood.”

Oh.

Truthfully, you’ve no clue whether you respond aloud or keep your contemplation close to your psyche. He admits it almost… awkwardly, like it’s a condition he’s not so fond of himself. Yet it’s one that reverberates in the strained silence, plucking at taut strings that stretch with every passing second. You play it on repeat, stewing over the way in which he spoke; the diction, the stressors, the slight roll of his accent.

I could smell it. I could smell you. The blood.

Your life on the run hardly ever allows for moments like these. Over the past year, stress has anchored itself by the dock of your being, streamlining a flow of cortisol to every major organ. Continuity hinges on an alertness to the forces propelling you, and while the occasional wisecrack can alleviate some effects it has on your health, you don’t have the luxury of sinking into whatever fear bolsters it all.

It’s with him, though – hanging from a crane, or cornered in a pen of his own design. Only ever with him are you slapped with the resounding, festering distress of your own weakness. It consumes you, gnawing on your gut with its brutal teeth, tearing away the indifference you’d built around your systems. How dissimilar the two of you are; a girl unwilling to fight for even herself, and a man capable of wrapping a slash in the dark.

(He could smell it. And he can probably see, too.

By just how much does he outmatch you?)

“You’re welcome.” Miguel growls. You scold yourself for your elongated reticence, the pace of your heart overtaking the anxious torrent of thoughts that pump through you. It’s good practice to thank the man who’d saved your life four times over. Be that as it may, does it really count if he’s the reason it was necessary to begin with? He’d dropped you off that crane, he’d swung you a hundred feet high. Him, him, him.

You curl your tongue, desperate to quell the barrage of resentment that escalates at his prodding. Despite it pulling you from your rapid dissociation, your fight-or-flight peaks, forcing you to face a confrontation you don’t need. There’s nowhere to run – presently, you’re moored into place, his physicality and unique provocation blocking the possibility all together.

You scoff to placate the spiralling desire to argue.

It doesn’t work.

“For what?” You hiss.

All too quickly, his legs spread, creating a trough for you to slide down into. When your ass hits the unforgiving floor, you involuntarily cringe at the contrast it poses to his leg. A calculated effect, you’re sure – so too is the newfound freedom of his grip releasing your head, the crossing of his forearms pushing you away from the post his pecs provided.

It’s what you wanted, to distance yourself from his overbearing stature. And he manipulates it to his own favour; you’re made to bear your burden, the agony of your injured state tripling as if to exclaim: ‘see?’

Touché.

Nevertheless, it palliates your memory. The chill of the earth under you spikes your nerves, clearing the brume overcasting your day previous. You’d driven a car into that symbiote based on a groundless hypothesis; bold, any scientist would tell you. Yet, as far as your perception extends, it worked.

“Selfish.” He announces, far from discrete. It’s so unlike him that it smites the ego beginning to coagulate at your remembered success.

Your eyes snap to where you assume his face is, squinting like your glare makes any difference. “Excuse me?”

Undeterred by the threat inherent in your tone – that which is all talk – he persists. “Who do you think you are exactly, Wraith?”

The interrogation holds a dangerous quality; again, it feels out of place, a spirit tugging at the strings of his hollow self.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why? What would you prefer? Anomaly, banshee? You drag death behind you like it’s a curse, only you’ve opted into it. I told you it wasn’t our place to interfere, and you had to push it–”

He can be jaded, or subtle. Oftentimes, he’s dismissive and passively rude.

But Miguel O’Hara is never heedlessly hostile. Not like this.

“That wasn’t my fault, asshole. I fucking glitched!”

“¡Órale, estás bien pendeja! Nothing ever is, of course! Has it never occurred to you to take a good look in the mirror?”

The irregularity scares you. Your voice breaks with it.

“O’Hara–”

“Because I’ll tell you what I see; a girl who can’t face what she’s done.”

“You don’t know me.” You shake your head, tamping the stiffness in your shoulder. It does nothing to exercise the sharp unease that flays you alive.

“A self-serving criminal who refuses to listen.”

“I d– I tried.” Hiccupping, the edge worsens.

“You’d have gone back home–”

“There’s nothing left for me there!”

“Like there is anywhere else? You’ve devastated them!”

“Stop it–”

“Wrecked entire worlds! I’ve been the only one holding it all together,” He yells, pushing his knees closer to one another. You’re slowly crushed in the process, thighs drawing up to press against your torso. “You’re no victim. You’re no hero.”

“Stop it!”

“Tell me I’m wrong!”

Feverish tears slice down your cheeks, spouting to escape the pressure that balloons within you. Your lungs tighten alongside it, heart aching. It’s progressed past the point of prevention – no longer do you retain control of how this turns out. All you can do is drift; a feather, seized in this tempest, stirred by a disembodied man.

When you don’t respond, preferring to preserve your energy for the sobs that rip from you, he inches closer. You sense it when he repeats himself, his hot breath lining the shell of your ear.

“Well,” His claws sharpen, grazing the small of your back. “Am I?”

His lisp is more pronounced like this, fangs extended to affect the natural position of his mouth. It warps the undertone, like a pool does light, and sends it back more viscous than ever. He’s uninhibited – an addict missing his fix.

It’s almost impossible to choke the admission out against the hatred churning your stomach. When you unhinge your jaw, it’s a credible wager that you retch all over yourself instead.

“No.” You manage to warble, a mixture of snot and wet misery streaking down your chin. Your wrists stay plastered, allowing the mess to mask your countenance, tucking between your legs in a childlike attempt at comfort. Cruelty crackles – self-propagated now – assaulting your faux-confidence until it plummets to a fraction of what it was.

Cursed. A wraith – haunting the multiverse with her unfinished business.

There’s nothing left to declare as his impressions are confirmed. You both mark it, this changed, spoken into existence by your divulgence. By some miracle, if you were to slip his capture, it’d be no more of a victory than the gore crusting your fingernails. Proof for his belittlement; that you truly are so inconsiderate as to further endanger the lives of millions.

(Would you be able to live with yourself?)

You relapse, agonising over the past week. Not a victim – you’d taken advantage of him with a kiss for an unsure opportunity. Not a hero – you’d punched a robber and gotten a civilian killed in the process. You’d run over a murderer and buried several under an early grave.

(Can you live with yourself?)

And home–

Trapped, you boil in a pond of your transgressions. It’d been a long time coming – your fault, in fact. You should’ve noticed the water was gradually heating.

There’d been a dam of careful construction at this bank, stacked tirelessly over the several nights you’d been given to think on what you’ve done. To prevent your clear culpability from catching up to you, to blind others to it too. He’s right, but not about all things. You’ve memorised your reflection at this point. Put it in a line up, and you’ll point your place in hell with facile certainty.

So, there’s no need to admit anything else. Regardless, his sabotage compels you to. Here, loitering purgatory with the one person who’d never understand; what harm could confession do? His opinion of you skims rock bottom, and you’ve no hope at seeing a priest before you rot.

Forgive me, for I have sinned.

“I’m not innocent.” You start. “Never have been.”

Alpha Centauri, that was the goal.

Located only four light years away, it’s the closest star system to Earth; with suns Rigil Kentaurus, Toliman and Proxima Centauri forming a trinary network. All main sequence stars – like humanity’s very own Sol – orbited by suspected habitable exoplanets. With the average chemical rocket, it’d take upwards of six thousand years to get there.

There lay alternatives, of course. Nuclear fission, with an energy yield of almost zero from its original mass. Fusion, ten times as efficient – still, not nearly enough. Ion accelerators, sunlight capture. Interstellar arks were of no interest; no, you’d wanted to achieve extrasolar travel within your lifetime. Warp drives and hyperspace – all theoretical.

As an undergrad, you’d settled on matter-antimatter collision.

The latter, antimatter, exists as an inverted twin to ordinary subatomic particles, with flipped states on every front. Antiprotons – negative protons with oppositely directed magnetism, and positrons – positively charged electrons. When the two meet their counterparts, their entire mass is converted into energy. And, when such annihilation is modelled within engines, a ship can accelerate to ninety percent the speed of light.

Therein subsisted your only chance to touch the stars.

Of course, like all hypotheticals, it came with its own array of issues. No natural reservoir of the substance is known, and producing at least one tonne would take more power than mankind has used in all its history. Moreover, it’s near nonviable to store. Any container that has ever touched regular matter would only cause preemptive decimation.

You wrote papers and studied computer-generated prototypes. You argued with professors, and attended pro-conferences. Months worth of minimum wage were blown on trips to Argentina, where the neighbouring system can be spotted through a telescope, winking above the horizon. When it all started to appear fruitless, you caught wind of Alchemex’s exploits within the field.

It was a young company, hobbling on its feet after a rocky merger with Oscorp. But they were daring, and rich, endeavouring into categories that most deemed nonprofit. You’d applied for an internship, waited months to hear back. By some cosmic karma, it turned out to be good news when you eventually did.

They were already working on manufacturing the antimatter. It was your suggestion that encouraged them to use magnets to store it within a vacuum.

It looked auspicious. It had been.

Then, you were bit.

The spider was from another division – radiation, you suppose. By some breach on account of a more negligent temp, the critter had found its way into your improvised cubicle. And so the story goes; it’d champed down on the webbing between your thumb and forefinger, before promptly suffocating under the cup you’d snared it in. The area stung for a while, venom having directly found your veins. Yet, by the time you’d returned to your dorm, your immunity seemed to have diluted its effects.

Until, you’d gotten sick. The hysteria was slow to consolidate, starting as a sore throat. You’d used your one day off then, ignorant to just how bad it could get; because the fever only deepened, lesions on the lining of your oesophagus oozing ichor into bile. Your doctor waived the possibility of tuberculosis, mistrusting the notes your instructors sent with you, complaining of in-class fainting bouts.

You couldn’t miss work, though. Never. Not when you were so close.

So you stuffed sheets of pills in your pockets and braved each shift with trembling joints. You’d no friends to notice your suffering, and for such an ambitious company, overtime was expected. Sweating through multiple layers of clothing, you kept an eye on your poster of the galaxy and lagged on those long nights. At the rate you were going, you genuinely dreaded a life cut short before you could realise your objective.

If nothing else, it urged you to work harder.

Your first milestone came at the one kilogram mark. A party was hosted to celebrate, billionaires invited to gather around the vessel which held such a revolutionary feat. Despite your interloper status, you’d been summoned too, to play big girl scientist and present Alchemex’s future course of action. Your affliction was improving, and you were the inspiration behind the project’s advance. It felt like the biggest night of your career.

(‘Magnets! What a genius solution.’ From a nobel prize runner up.

‘That ambition will get you far, mark my words.’ The CEO’s cousin.)

In truth, it was the last.

Because the antimatter had taken centre stage, security slackening with its continued stability. So long as the magnetism wasn’t tampered with, so long as the vacuumed vessel remained airtight, things looked to be fine for your speech. You’d cycled through every known variable, staring down the container, a champagne flute tucked in your sweaty palms.

Your skin prickled.

The glass smashed to the floor. In your embarrassment, you’d brushed it off as clumsiness prompted by the perspiration – notwithstanding your recount, having seen the drink fall through your mass. Did it matter, though? You couldn’t put it past your illness to cause such hallucinations. It was impossible, a trick of sight.

The festivities progressed, yet the tingle of your nerves didn’t subside. Anxiety – you chalked it up to common apprehension. So, when your boss announced your name for all to hear, and the agitation flared, it wasn’t alarming. You could think of nothing else anyway, honed in to the address you’d practised all morning.

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.

Your gut flipped. Your vision blackened.

The steps lost depth; you stumbled up them with all the grace of a hunted fawn.

Today–

Your skin prickled once more, and you collapsed. Through the antimatter’s vessel, through the floor.

There’s nothing to recall after that. Not for a long while.

“I don’t become intangible.” Your brow bone rests on the curve of your knee, body curled in a foetal position. “My particles merely… find the best way through something.”

Miguel has remained eerily quiet throughout your chronicle. You try not to let it dissuade you.

“So–”

“Some came in contact with the antimatter.”

“Yeah.” You murmur, moved by an unnamed emotion. “It detonated, naturally, with a force roughly equivalent to a nuclear bomb. Wiped out everyone in the city upon discharge, then everyone in the state with its impact. Or– maybe, I don’t know. I was discarnate for weeks – the explosion had no effect on my immaterial self, and the radiation couldn’t hurt me when that spider damn well sought and failed at it already.”

You hug yourself tighter.

“I only witnessed the winter that followed. The blast was large-scale enough to trigger firestorms and a global climate cooling – similar to the one they scare you with when talking about nuclear warfare. Crop failure, famine. Millions died and my home devolved into cataclysm. It was mass extinction,” You school yourself, waving the snivel crawling up your nose. “Because of me.”

An end by starvation or infection, confined to this tomb, seems a perfectly fitting penance.

“Explain this to me, O’Hara – what just providence made me spider-woman to a barren land?”

chapter seven →

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livelaughdepression · 11 months

Text

When I’m Sober

Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Summary - A welcome sight greets you after a drunken night and God did you hope you remember when you’re sober.

Notes - My first fic! Let me know what you all think and if you’d like a part 2!

4.9k Words

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On days of drinking and partying, I didn’t carry my keys or phone. And as I stumbled in the alley behind my apartment, I thought of how a great friend of mine gets in and settled to use the window.

“Why aren’t we using the door?” Doctor Reynolds asks, stumbling behind me as I climb up the emergency stairs and ladder to get to my window.

I faintly remember telling him a few times that I was okay leaving the club and going home, but he insisted on taking me home. And as I drunkenly hailed a taxi down, he kept an arm latched around my waist. He was also being very handsy and more comfortable with me the more I drank. And maybe if it was a different time, I would appreciate his dreaminess and attention.

But I had my eye on someone else.

“Shh! You’re gonna wake up my neighbors!” I exclaim, squinting my eyes in seeing a faint glow of light coming from my window.

My thoughts racing, I was climbing up the stairs faster now. I could hear Doctor Reynolds asking again why we were going through the window, but I wasn’t going to tell him. It was my secret.

Mine and Spiderman’s secret. And Spiderdog’s secret since he was my roommate.

As I get to my window, I see my one and only favorite pet waiting for me at the window. He wore his crochet spider mask and with the glow from inside, he reminded me of an angel. In the back of my head, I remember the window only being opened a smidge. A fourth of the window was opened, and Spiderdog took it as his chance to stick his head out as I approached.

“Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy? You are! Spider-dog’s the best boy!” I cooed as I crouched down and blew kisses at my best boy. He happily barks and wags his tail at me.

When he catches sight of Doctor Reynolds who crouched next to me, his barks of joy become snarls as he tries to bite at his hand. I hold onto his neck as Doctor Reynolds stumbles back, falling against the railing.

“I forgot your dog doesn’t like me,” He says, trying to nervously laugh it off.

“He’s just protective,” I hummed, opening the window a bit more so I could crawl through. Looking at the kitchen, I see a faint shadow moving around and my mood instantly lightens even more.

“So sorry, but you’re gonna have to sleep somewhere else, Doctor Reynolds. Come on, Spiderdog,” I gleefully say, as my dog stops his barking to tuck himself under my arm which was already pulling the window down.

Doctor Renolds steps forward to try and slide the window back open, but I had already latched it shut. His hand starts to bang on the glass and Spiderdog resumes his hateful barking and snarling against the glass.

“Y/n! You can’t leave me out here! You said we were going to hoo-”

“I never invited you to stay! Bye, Doctor Reynolds!” I chirp, pulling the blinds down and waving goodbye to him.

The banging ceases, and I could hear him say a select few curse words. Moments later, the rattling of the stairs is heard.

I pull up at my dress and run my fingers through my hair, happy about seeing my visitor. Spiderdog leaves my side and goes to the kitchen just as the light turns on.

I hear quiet footsteps before I see him.

I could say that my heart was racing due to the thrill of seeing my roommate who was just as happy to see me as I him, but the thought of my favorite superhero in the whole wide world always made my heart flutter. It had been about a week since he last came here with a wound that needed stitching, and I had missed him.

“Busy night?” He asks as I try to smoothly stand up and walk to the kitchen where he was. Spiderdog was at his side, his tail hitting the floor frantically as he stared up at his idol.

Behind him, I see a box of pizza and breadsticks which wasn’t there when I left earlier. A sliver of me felt bad for going out to drink and party while he was probably waiting here for hours, but the majority of me really loved the tequila I was drinking earlier tonight.

“Is that pizza? I love pizza! Did you know it was Michelle’s birthday yesterday? She wanted to go to the club and get drinks tonight. I couldn’t leave her hanging,” I chatter, my eyes momentarily flicking back to his tall figure. He was standing with his arms crossed over his chest and for a second my mind wandered to the thought of his muscular arms holding me close at night.

Too busy ogling at the box of pizza, I didn’t notice the blanket that Spiderdog normally drags around with him was on the floor right in front of me. My heels get caught in it, and I lose my footing. A small scream leaves my mouth at the feeling of falling. But then it stops.

I open my eyes to see the red spider emblem directly in my line of sight. Spidey had caught me and had me wrapped in his arms. Oh what a feeling.

I free out one hand and try to pinch his cheek as I laugh. “My knight in shining spidey armor,”

“Jesus, y/n. How much did you have to drink? He asks, swatting my hand away. I scrunch my nose as I slip out of his warm hold and go to the pizza box, feeling a slight sway in my steps.

“Just like…half a bottle of tequila. Did you miss me?” I ask, a weak attempt to change the topic. I sit up on the counter and watch as he walks into the light of the kitchen. He wore his mask, but I could imagine his eyes watching my every move.

Spidey wasn’t very vocal. He was always watching, and on rare occasions, would chip in his two cents. I had learned to pick up signals based off how he moved. When he was stiff and almost robotic with his movements, something usually bothered him. He rarely talked about it, and I never pushed him on it. When he was completely out of it, he’d mention a Peter or a Gwen or the universe, but I usually didn’t pry. Sometimes when he was here and slept on the couch after my demands of him staying the night due to his injuries, I could see the tension leave his body. He visibly relaxed and wasn’t as guarded. His voice was lighter, and he was even funny with his own jokes. I’d sometimes wake up in the middle of the night to see him fast asleep, Spiderdog tucked into his side.

“I came to check up on you. Last time…I saw you, you were drunk out of your mind crying in the shower with your clothes on.”

The memory of my parents coming into my place and calling me a disgrace to the family name while forbidding me from ever contacting them or any of my siblings temporarily sobered up my mind. I stuff my face with a slice of pizza before I started to uncontrollably sob in front of Spidey.

“I’m okay. Just had a little too much to drink that night. Are you going to get a slice?” I open the box and grab a slice to hold over Spiderdog who was waiting on me to include him in this late night dinner party. I leave the box open and scoot the box and myself closer to the edge of the counter, so he could sit next to me.

Likely figuring that he wouldn’t get anymore info out of me, he lets the conversation die and grabs a slice of pizza before sitting next to me. His thigh presses against mine, and I let out a hum of content as his mask from his chin up to the tip of his nose disappears.

I never saw much of his face other than part of his nose and the bottom half of his face. But I always daydreamed of what he looked like under the mask. I imagined dark brown eyes that were always reserved, guarding the weight of the universe behind them. Every once in a while, I pictured them as brightening up when he was happy. But that wasn’t very often.

“Did you find more info on that guy with the purple mask? The one that left that gnarly scar on your shoulder?” I asked, leaning my head against his shoulder.

“No. It’s like the city swallowed him whole. All leads have been a dead end,” he grumbles, taking a large bite of his slice.

“Loser,” I whisper, momentarily forgetting that I was talking to Nueva York’s greatest hero and not someone who lost on a lottery ticket.

“What was that?” he snaps, pushing me off his shoulder. I about fall over the pizza box as my crust goes flying for Spiderdog to chase after it, but he was kind enough to wrap an arm around my left shoulder, pulling me back into his side.

“You know what would make this pity party better?” I suddenly chirp, looking up and lightly slapping his cheek. He swats away at my hand.

“Don’t say tequila.”

“Tequila!” I squeak, jumping off the counter and going to the pantry to fish out my favorite bottle.

“No, no, you’ve already had your fill. Don’t drink any of that.”

I had barely unscrewed the bottle and had a drop touch my tongue when the bottle disappeared from my hand. Literally. I turned to look over at Spidey who had webbed the bottle to him where he now stood by the kitchen sink, draining my bottle.

“You’re being a buzzkill! Next time you’re at my window I’m not gonna help you!”

“Trust me, pretty girl, I’ll live without you patching me up. I’m a fast healer,” He cooly says, raising a hand to keep me from reaching my precious bottle until not a single drop was left. He threw the bottle into the trash and grabbed a glass of water, shoving it into my hands before I could protest.

“Don’t call me pretty girl when you’re wasting my alcohol. It makes it less hard for me to want to hit you,” I snapped before drinking the water, not realizing how thirsty I was.

“I only say it cause you’re drunk, and you won’t remember me calling you that in the morning,” He murmurs as he puts a hand against my cheek, his thumb stroking my face.

Oh how I wished I was drunk and a complete amnesic the day after when it came to drinking tequila.

“I’ll remember it,” I hiccuped, really hoping that tonight would be different and I’d remember in the morning.

And then that got me thinking. He had visited me the day my parents came and said I was a complete drunk crying in the shower. I didn’t remember that. I don’t even remember seeing him that day. I had seen him the day before because I demanded that he come back to look at a nasty cut he had on his back.

Had I told him something embarrassing? Did I tell him of the crush I had? Had he called me pretty girl before?

Were the feelings mutual?

“Alright, time for bed. You’ve got that hazy look in your eye when you’re on the verge of collapsing,” He says, breaking me out of my overthinking spell. He grabs my shoulder to turn me around and starts to walk me to my bedroom.

“You said you were here when I was drunk in the shower? I ask, falling onto the couch instead. The couch was the perfect place to crash right now.

“I was. You refused to get out,” He replies, sitting on my coffee table and grabbing at my leg.

I completely forget how to breathe as the gloves on his hands disappear and his bare fingers touch my calf. They gently slide down before settling on my ankle. He carefully slips my heel off and tosses it by the food. He does the same with my other heel, but instead of letting go, his fingers run back up my leg and settle behind my knee.

Oh dear God, please let me remember this in the morning.

“Did I…say anything? You know, possibly something self-incriminating like-”

“Like what, y/n?” His other hand grabs my other leg, fingers splaying behind my knee and I feel my eyes widen as he pulls me forward.

I was pulled to the edge of the couch, but with feeling as if I was going to fall off, I grabbed at his thighs to catch myself. He leans forward, and his lips are mere inches away from my own. It was as if I was drinking again, and my mind fogged up again. I glanced down at his lips, and it was at the time that I wished he would take his mask off completely so I could see his eyes.

“Just…like…like…you’re making it very hard for me to think straight,” I whisper, my hand squeezing at his massive thigh, my gaze flickering to where his eyes would be. I feel myself inching closer, wanting to feel his lips over mine. I could have been imagining it, but I thought I could see his face inching closer as well.

“I don’t think you mentioned that last time. You did confess to not sharing a ham sandwich with Spiderdog when you promised him you would,” he chuckles, his hands slipping away from me as he sits further back on the table.

Before I could outright ask him if I told him I liked him, I excused myself to the bathroom, mumbling about needing to wash my face before bed. As I closed the bathroom door, I shouted that he was free to go home now that he saw I was alive and okay. Spiderdog was in the shower already asleep with his faint snores. It was his favorite place to sleep in as he was wrapped in his blanket. I had half a mind to wake him up, so I could talk to him about my silly crush and the tension I swear I was feeling between the masked vigilante and I.

And as I removed my makeup, I began to question if I was imagining it or not.

Was Spidey normally this touchy? Of course he wasn’t. The man typically kept at least five feet of distance between us and only got close to me when I needed to clean a wound or stitch something up.

How many times had he touched me tonight? One, two, three, four…ten, Ten times! That surely meant something.

He also called me pretty girl. I giggle to myself thinking of how cute that was. His usual pet name for me consisted of my full name, despite giving him a list of nicknames I was called in the past.

He also bought me pizza and came to check up on me. He even waited for me to come home!

These last few times he had visited me, I had also noticed he was nicer. He had lost some of that stiffness in him and even threw a joke out every once in a while. It was also his first time actually waiting for me. In the past, he’d just leave notes whenever he’d visit and I wasn’t there.

I was not imagining it.

I should do it tonight. I should tell him I like him and hope he says he likes me back.

And if he doesn’t…I’ll probably move out of Nueva York and hope we never see each other again because I’d absolutely die of pure embarrassment. But I wasn’t imagining it. He would say he likes me back.

Wait. I told him he could leave. And now that I thought of it, I didn’t hear any noise coming from outside the bathroom. It was dead silent besides the snores coming from Spiderdog.

I could just tell him tomorrow. No biggie.

The alcohol was still running in my veins, making me think I was invincible and wouldn’t chicken out in telling him how I felt. I was invincible. Anyone who knew me thought I was amazing. Besides my family of course, but that's besides the point. I was a great person, and anyone would be lucky to have me.

In brushing my teeth and braiding my hair, I was consumed by the thoughts of how great of a person I was. Scenarios of myself being a hero in the hospital and saving countless lives playing in my head, boosting my ego more than I needed it to.

I was so lost in my head that I was laughing to myself imagining my supervisor who absolutely despises me groveling at my feet, begging me to share my vast knowledge with him despite only being a new grad nurse.

“Oh how the tables have turned,” I giggle as I leave the bathroom, ready to go to bed and think of these scenarios until I fall asleep.

A sharp inhale made me freeze mid-step. I slowly turned my head, and hoped it was a ghost.

No. It was Spiderman, still in my apartment.

“I thought you left,” I immediately say, putting an arm across my chest and the other around my waist as a poor attempt to cover myself up.

“What are you wearing?” He bites out, taking a step towards me but stopping himself near the couch.

I blink twice and look down, smiling at my choice of underwear as I remember why I bought the dark blue lacy bralette and matching panties in the first place. I snapped one of the crisscross straps that was over my chest.

“Isn’t it cute? I chirp, forgetting why I was covering up in the first place. I do a small spin and nearly topple over in the process. “I bought it last week. The color reminded me of your suit.”

I looked back up at him, and he had gotten closer. So much closer. I could reach my hand out and touch his chest if I wanted. And then my hands look at his hands, and he has the blanket I lay on the couch.

“It’s cold. Cover up, or you’re gonna get sick,” He gruffly replies, stepping closer to wrap the blanket around my shoulders.

Having him so close, I remembered what I was going to do. I was going to tell him how I felt!

“Spidey, I have something to tell you!” I blurt out, trying to shrug out of the blanket he had wrapped around me. His hands are still on my shoulders, refusing to let me out of the cover.

I could do this. I could do this. I could absolutely do this.

“Y/n I have to go. Something came up downtown, and I have to-”

No, no, no! If I didn’t say it now, I wouldn’t say it ever. But the words wouldn’t come out as he continued to tell me he had to leave. This was my only chance. It was now or never.

But I don’t say anything. I take a step forward, stand on my toes and grab his neck to crash his lips onto mine.

He doesn’t reciprocate the kiss. He is absolutely frozen in place.

I overstepped. I wasn’t just stupid, but I was delusional too.

I just ruined our friendship.

I move back, my brain filled with panic now. Tequila was a bitch, and I am forever going to swear her off for the rest of my life.

“I shouldn’t have- I’m so-”

The blanket falls onto the ground and his arms wrap around my waist, crushing me to his chest as he kisses me. My arms go around his neck as I press against him, feeling his heart wildly hammering in his chest.

It’s messy. Sloppy. We’re both starved of touch from each other.

My lips part, and he takes full advantage to slide his tongue inside. I let out a moan, and he

crashes us into the wall behind us, one of his hands leaving my waist to brace us against the wall. I hear a picture frame fall onto the ground and shatter, but I quite frankly could not give a damn. I angle my head to deepen the kiss as I run my nails down the front of his suit.

I wanted to touch him. Not the suit. But his skin. I wanted him. I wanted to feel him bare as I was.

I feel him pull away from me, and I break the kiss to whimper out in protest. But they grab hold of my thighs to lift me up. I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him back to me, but he dodges. He plants sloppy kisses down my jaw and the side of my neck, sucking and biting a trail. I was very aware of every part of his body that touched me, and I felt like I was on fire. Each kiss that went down my neck set me on fire. Every cell in my body buzzed with excitement and when his fangs grazed against my collarbone, I felt like I was in a state of euphoria.

“You bought this,” he snaps the strap of my bra with his finger, “because it matched my suit. Were you ever going to show me or was it going to be your little secret?”

“I also have it in red if you want to see it,” I gasped, completely drunk off the feel of him.

“Dios, me vas a matar (God, you’re going to kill me),” he groans, biting my shoulder making me cry out.

“Tu me vas a matar (You’re going to kill me),” I murmur, pushing against his shoulders so I can see him. His hold on me slackens, likely thinking I wanted him to stop. But I lean forward and bite at his lip.

He lets out a husky groan and I feel my eyes roll to the back of my head. I loved it when men moaned.

“You’re better than the taste of tequila,” I say.

That causes him to freeze.

“You’re drunk. You’re not thinking straight,” He sighs, his grip loosening on me again.

Oh, no. Why did I say that? Oh yeah. Because I was drunk and had no filter.

But right now, with the feeling of him so close to me and knowing that he wanted me just as much as I wanted him, I was completely sober.

“I’m fine. I have a clear head,” I protest as my hand presses against his chest.

“I want you sober. No alcohol in your system. No chance of you regretting anything.”

That was actually very sweet, and I’d be kicking my feet and squealing if I read that in a book.

I grab at his face to force him to look at me. “Do you think I’d regret anything with you?”

He doesn’t respond.

I press a quick kiss to his lips before wrapping my arms around him to pull him into a hug, my lips right by his ear.

“Since I’ve met you, I dream about you. I dream about what you look like under that mask. I dream about what it’d feel like to be under you, hearing your moans in my ear. I dream about having you here other than when you’re hurt. Why do you think I always leave the window open even when it rains? Even when I’m not home. Me gusta tenerte aquí. (I like having you here) I like you, Spidey. Me encantas. (I’m crazy about you)”

To add to the cherry on top, I bite on his earlobe before looking back at him. His hands squeeze my thighs, and I feel him press closer against me.

“I love it when you speak Spanish. It drives me insane hearing you talk,” He groans, pressing a kiss against my forehead. I unwrap my legs around his waist, and he sets me down, his hands running up my thighs to my waist before completely stepping away from me.

“I scream better in Spanish, but since you’re such a gentleman, you’re not gonna hear it tonight. Maybe I’ll get lucky with you in my dreams,” I dreamily sigh, already walking to my bedroom. I add an extra little sway to my hips and turn my head to see Spidey looking exactly where I wanted him to.

“You’re making it hard to say no to you and keep to it.”

“Red is more my color. I expect a more…animalistic response when I wear the red set for you,” I reply, sliding my bra strap down as I stand at the doorway to my room. I bite my lip as I innocently stare at him.

“Y/n,” He warns. But he was already walking towards me as I moved deeper into my room. He stops himself at the doorway, following my every movement.

Damn his gentleman behavior.

“Open invitation to the other half of my bed. I promise no funny business until I’m sober. Only rule is I want the suit off. Mask too,” I say as I slip under the covers and pat the pillow to the right of me.

I prop myself up on my elbows and watch him. He had turned off the lights in the living room and kitchen, but the red neon sign across the street that peaked through my blinds gave me enough light to see his silhouette.

Part of me had expected him to say no and tell me he’d leave me to sleep on my own, per his gentleman behavior. The other part had hoped he’d say yes. I’d absolutely not keep my hands to myself and would probably use him as a pillow, but that’s as far as I’d go.

He steps farther into the room, closing my bedroom door.

There’s a faint light on his body as his suit comes off. The red light allows me faintly see the hard contours of his body. A body I’d seen countless times bleeding on my couch as I helped him. A body that I was dying to get a taste of.

Then the light appears on his face, and I hold my breath in anticipation as he climbs into bed with me.

With no mask.

I am absolutely giddy at the thought of him without a mask as I turn to face him. I was tempted to lean over him to turn on the lamp to see what he looks like. To see what those eyes that I had dreamed about looked like.

Almost as if reading my mind, he grabs my hand and brings it up to his face. I touched soft thick hair that I had half a mind to pull as I kissed him senseless. But no funny business.

My fingers graze down his eyebrows, thick and slightly furrowed. They went over his closed eyes, and I felt long curled eyelashes. Prominent cheekbones. Sharp jaw. A prominent nose with a slight bump in the middle of it. Full lips. Smooth skin.

“What color are your eyes?” I ask, scooting closer towards him I felt our thighs touch.

He stays silent before answering my question.

“They were brown at first, and then after everything that happened…they became red,”

I sit and tower over him. I hold his face in my hands, trying to get a look at these alleged red eyes. I’m right up against his face and squint my eyes, but I see no color.

“You’re not gonna see anything right now,” he chuckles, and I roll my eyes.

I lay back down but still face him, my fingers now skimming across his broad chest. I feel the goosebumps rise on his skin before he catches my hand, lacing our fingers together.

“Fine. I’ll just wait until tomorrow.”

With a slight pull, Spidey rolls me partially on top of him. My head rests against his chest as he rests my hand near his shoulder. He then grabs my thigh and hooks my leg over his, leaving his right hand near the curve of my butt. His left arm wraps around me and his fingers gently tease my arm.

“You’re not being a gentleman if that hand on my butt moves any further,” I murmur, hearing the faint beat of his heart.

“You’ll sleep better, trust me,” he says, placing a kiss on the top of my head as he lightly slaps my butt. I slap at his chest, and he vibrates with a low chuckle.

“Whatever. Goodnight, Spidey,” I say, the steady beat of his heart already making my eyelids feel heavy with sleep.

“Goodnight, y/n.”

I’m not sure if it was only a few minutes or if I had already been asleep, but a sudden thought pops up into my groggy mind. I had to tell him before I forgot.

“Spidey.”

“Hmm?”

“I forgot to mention earlier that I want you to fuck my brains out when I’m sober.”

“Jesus, y/n. You’re half asleep thinking about that,” Spidey mumbles, his breath fanning my face. A tired laugh escapes me as I snuggle deeper into his side.

And then I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming or not, but I could hear him calling my name.

“What?” I ask, moving my head slightly to peer up at him.

“Miguel, my name. So you can scream it out in Spanish when I fuck your brains out, and you’re sober.”

“Mm, Miguel,” I murmur, already falling back asleep.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara atsv #miguel o'hara fic #across the spiderverse #atsv fic #miguel atsv #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderverse #spiderman 2099 x y/n

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kissesinelevators · 7 months

Text

After Dark Pt. 2

Synopsis: What do you do when there’s a man with fangs lurking in the shadows, swearing he can keep you safe but ever since he’s popped up in your life things get worse? Change is weird and very permanent.

Pairing: Spider-Man 2099 x Female Reader

Word Count:

Genre and Warnings: Romance, Angst, Smut (eventually), Violence, Slow Burn (kind of)

18+ Part 1. 3 (A.N. This was not proofread!)

Miguel was making a mess. He truly was.

“Look, it’s okay if you don’t have it. (Y/N) will call me when she’s back and I’ll come by to grab it. It’s really no issue.” A younger woman who had been flirting with him had been here for now an hour told him as she leaned over the counter, proudly displaying her breasts through the thin white shirt she was wearing. She was beautiful but Miguel wasn’t interested in that at the moment, he was trying to find her blue evening gown. He shook his head as he silently berated himself looking everywhere for the hung up garment. Why did he agree to this? There were at least 3 people here waiting for a while for their stuff and although they were more amused by this tall buff guy running around trying to get their correct items, Miguel couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed. All that high iq and fancy job as a chemist for what? Just to not be able to find simple clothes that were hung up? He wanted to scream and break everything in here out of anger but he couldn’t because he made a promise as Spider-Man that he would help out even if she didn’t know that he was in fact Spider-Man helping out.

“No, I’ll find them. I’m just, this is my first day.” The old man smiles and begins to walk out the store, followed by the rest of the customers as well as the girl who had unsuccessfully tried to get his attention.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Miguel.” She winked and closed the door behind her.

He let out a scream and slammed the cash register into the concrete floor, breaking it.

“Oh.” Miguel covered his face in further frustration. Well, it wasn’t like it was new or working. He made a mental note to buy her a new one eventually since hers was severely banged up already and didn’t open right due to how much trauma it had went through. He was happy that he didn’t take out his anger on her little iPad that did card transactions. Now that would have been worse.

After he had fixed the broken floor with more concrete, which he had to close shop for a bit and go find the materials and do so much more manual labor, he put up a little sign next to it to warn others to not step on that side of the store. He was admiring his work when a teenager came in. Miguel looked up at the clock seeing it was 30 past 3 and sighed. This was (Y/N)’s star client for today.

“Hey, I have your jersey right here.” Miguel stepped to go to the back of the store when he realised that he had in fact left the jersey at the hospital with (Y/N), she was going to definitely kill him. “Uh, actually-“

The bell of the front door rang and in came in (Y/N), her timing being of a movie’s. She frowned looking at the sign by the newly put down concrete in her flooring.

“What happened here?”

“Hi, do you happen to have his jersey on you by any chance?” Miguel wasted no time as he went up to you.

(Y/N) frowns. What happened to her floor? “Uh, yeah.” She goes through the motions of getting the jersey out of her hospital bag and hold it out while staring at the semi fresh concrete filling what looked like a hole and cracks. Literally happened?

“Thank you so much!” The jersey is pulled out from her fingers and the bell of the door shakes indicating it’s been opened again and then the door shuts.

“What happened to my floor?” She holds her hands at her hips, the hospital bag’s cords wrapped around one of her wrists.

Miguel remembers that he didn’t even make up an excuse for why that hole was there and why he had to fill it.

“There was an at-,” (Y/N) finally looks up and is taken aback seeing the tall buff man behind the counter top of her business. “-tempt on the store but they broke the register and threw it so it left a hole.” It was the first thing that came to his head. He walks out from behind to counter and stands in front of you with his hands on his waist. You blink.

“How does that cause such a massive hole?”

“My name is Miguel, you’re (Y/N) right?” He puts his hand out offering you a handshake. You look at his hand, then up to his face. Without breaking eye contact you put your hand in his, also very large as Spider-Man’s. What was going on with men? When did they get so.. massive? And so attractive?

“Hey Miguel, what happened to my floor?” He repeats the story of the failed robbery and how they broke the register with the floor. You weren’t convinced.

“Okay but, they tend to not be that strong?” You tilt your head and he closes his eyes in frustration. The first time you tilted your head at him and he almost forgot how to breathe, you were just so pretty to him and here you were doing it again.

“How’s your head?” He opened his eyes and puts a hand around your head softly and moves your head back, changing it from the puppy tilt you did that left him wondering if he should just leave before he told you how beautiful you were. Your hands go up and grab his wrist and pull his hand down.

“I don’t know any strangers who go up to people and grab their heads.” You let go of his wrist and he feels a warm buzzing where your fingers were seconds ago.

“Sorry, uh, how’s your head?” You look at him and roll your eyes walking past him to the back of the counter.

“It’s fine, thanks for the concern.” It looked like everything else was fine and in its own place. Maybe this Miguel guy wasn’t a complete idiot like you were thinking he was as you walked to the store moments ago. And he was so, so, so beautiful. You look up and see him deep in thought, hands on his waist as he looked at the drying cement in the store where he claimed someone threw your cash register. Fuck, even like that he looked beautiful. His onyx black locks were messily pushed out of his face and they looked so soft, his olive skin tone was almost mouth watering as it looked inviting and warm, his broad shoulders made him look like he could throw you over them and built you a house out of wood. Where had he been hiding this whole time? Sure he looked a lot older, maybe 10 years an older but it added to his attractiveness.

Something peeps through his lips, out the corner of his mouth, it looks sharp.

You shake your head.

Business continues as normally throughout the day with Miguel trying his best to alleviate the work load, while there wasn’t many people there was a lot of stuff the small amount of people brought in. Everyone was generally kind and understanding, most were concerned with (Y/N) and her health. It made Miguel’s heart warm seeing how the people of this community were so tight and loving of each other. It took him a long time to get that same love from his community back at home and while he still didn’t have it with his legion, he was content. In this moment at this time in this universe he was more than happy.

“I’ll be coming in tomorrow at 7 am, if that’s fine with you?” Miguel told you as you turned off the lights at the front of the store and began to close the curtains to the windows so the outside moonlight wouldn’t come in. You hum in response.

“I don’t have the money to pay you for work tomorrow.” You lock the doors and pull out a wad of money from your back pocket, walking over to Miguel as he stood behind the counter. “But here’s for today. Thank you for your help.” You put the money on the counter and smile. It’s a genuine smile. His heart skips a beat.

“I am not to receive payment, Spider-Man made that very clear.” He leans down, his arms on the counter and he leans towards you. You realise how close he is to you but yet he still towers over you despite his upper body being on the counter, of course held up by his arms but still. The look in his eyes was serious but yet, inviting?

“I’m okay to work by myself tomorrow.” You walk past the counter, the money still there in front of Miguel as you made your way to the back of the store. You hear his footsteps as he follows you. “And no, you can’t stay here.” You open another door and make your way to your small room. The room use to be a little janitorial closet but you remodelled it and even torn down the wall that separated it from the only bathroom in your store, you had instead set up a little curtain to give it a sense of privacy but you did what you could to make your room cute and girly. Miguel walked in from behind you, seeing the pastel pink painted walls, the small mattress on the floor with white duvets that had strawberries on it, multiple plush animals decorated the room, a small tv set in front of the mattress, plants decorated the room from being on the floor to being hung from the ceiling, the only light source was some yellow fairy lights hanging off the ceiling and a long rack of clothing was in the corner with clothes.

“You have a very nice set up here.” Miguel lowly says to you as you make your way to a small coffee table by your bed and fumble with some keys. You make your way back to him as he stood in your doorway, it looked almost out of place. Here was this big massive tall strong masculine man and he was surrounded by the pink of your room. You couldn’t help but giggle to yourself a bit as you hold your closed fist to him.

“Thank you, here.” He puts his hand out, palm up and you drop a set of keys in his hand.

“Here is a copy to the store’s keys. You can let yourself out from the back doors, I’m sure you know where it is since it a next to my room. Spider-Man does in fact owe me so I’ll take the help.” He looks at the keys, they are also pink but with glitter. They look almost hand painted. He puts them in his back pocket and smiles at you politely.

“Wait so you stay here all alone?” His smile drops as he remembers that the front is mostly glass, there was no cage or anything to protect you if someone decided to break in. And the door to your room wasn’t exactly a strong door.

“Yeah, the guy that I pay for protection keeps his people patrolling at night, at least he can provide me protection at night.” You dismiss Miguel’s scrunched up eyebrows and the worry in his eyes as you turn away to take off your shoes and socks. “I’m safe only at night.” He can’t believe what he’s hearing. Someone had literally just came to basically shoot at you like two evenings ago and here you were, behind cardboard and glass. No wonder you were mad at him for failing at his job, and worst of all you were alone. You didn’t have parents or friends nearby, he realised that the other night at the hospital. It was difficult for him to process that. He couldn’t believe that you were genuinely alone, had he not been there you wouldn’t be here.

“Luckily Spider-Man is usually active at night, right?” He lets out an uncomfortable chuckle as you grab some clothes off the rack and go behind the curtain. You start to undress, unbothered by the tall man standing in your doorway.

“Yeah right.” You roll your eyes as you start to put on your pjs, some shorts and an oversized shirt that a client had abandoned. Clothes that were left behind you would take for yourself or give them to the people in your community.

“Okay well, I’ll see myself out.” Miguel says and you step out from behind the curtains. He keeps his eyes on your face as you shrug and begin to set yourself down on the mattress.

“Goodnight, Miguel.” You look for your remote between the sheets. There’s a long pause and you look up towards the doorway. Miguel is still standing there. “I’ll see you tomorrow. But I open at 10 am so I’ll see you then.” He nods curtly and closes your door.

Miguel was currently perched up on the top of your building, legs hanging over the edge as he ate a burger. He was busy wiping his mouth with the back of his arm, the suit tickling his cheek.

“Miguel,” his assistant ai’s voice came out from his gizmo and he straighten his arm away from his face. Layla came up from it, looking at him with a disappointed look on her face, arms crossed over his shoulder. He kept chewing, unbothered. “Miguel, you need to come back.” He hummed in response and kept eating. “I’m being serious. I ran the tests, while yes everything will be okay with the universe you’re in, we need you here. There’s other universes that need your help.” He closed his eyes and swallowed. Hm, he knew he should have said no tomatoes. “Are you ignoring me right now?” Layla’s voice went up an octave, indicating she was angry. Miguel opened his eyes.

“Look, I left Peter in charge. He’s got this, this is my well deserved vacation time. Things worked out with Miles, everything is fine, let me enjoy this.” He took another bite from his burger.

“Miguel, it’s been a while.” She quietly said. “When are you coming back?” He put his arm down. He hasn’t really thought about that. When would he come back?

“I haven’t thought about that yet.”

“Well you need to, because you’re the only reason we are here. We can respect you needing time off but crime doesn’t stop.” She was right, that’s why he had to stay here. He took a last bite of the burger and began to crumple up the paper that was wrapped around it. He held it in his fist.

“Mm,” He got up and started pacing around in slow circles. “Is Peter not doing a good job?”

“No, he’s doing great but it’s ju-“ Miguel’s mask pixalated off his face as he ran his free hand through his hair while he decided to interrupt his assistant.

“Great! We’ll talk later, yeah? Missed you already.” He quickly said and clicked on his gizmo to activate do not disturb on her. He didn’t understand what part of do not bother me she didn’t understand. Peter knew how to reach him in case of an emergency, which he hasn’t yet done. Not that Peter didn’t know how to handle situations, he very much did but Miguel didn’t need to worry. He was constantly stressed out at headquarters in Nueva York, here he was basically cruising. That was until you appeared in his life. He felt stressed out, much more but it would be fine. It wasn’t the end of the world.

He heard a noise from the streets and his mask rematerialised on him as he walked over to the edge and looked up. There was just some guys in face masks with spray cans in their hands. Miguel decided to look the other way, who was he to interrupt artists.

Miguel later on left, heading to his home in this universe. Thankfully the money wasn’t different in this universe from his so he was able to buy a condo in cash. He threw away the burger wrapper into his trash can in the kitchen. He was truthfully tired and sleepy but as the night progressed and he laid in his bed he couldn’t help thinking back to you. You lying on your mattress that was on the floor, in a makeshift room that was protected by a cheap cardboard material like door, that was inside a store that was essentially all glass. He tried his best to sleep but his anxiety was getting the best of him the more his mind roamed to you, there, alone.

“FUCK!” He got up from bed angrily and changed into casual clothes with his suit underneath. At least he had tried to sleep. He swung and clawed his way back to your store, landing in the back alley of it with the keys in his hands. He knew you gave the keys to Miguel but you didn’t say he couldn’t give them to Spider-Man and he was Miguel so technically he could use them. His awful logic was more than enough for him unlock the back door and go in. He locked the door behind and heard muffled talking. His almost keen senses let him know that there was no danger and as he passed your bedroom door he heard the talking more clearly.

You had left the tv on and it was playing an infomercial on a knife set. Miguel thought to himself that maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get you a knife at least so you could have some sort of protection outside of him. Miguel was soon next to the clothes and he saw a pile that said clean. Well, if he was going to stay and be security, he had to stay. Miguel walked over to the clothes and dropped down into them. He was extremely tired, his body felt soo heavy he felt his chest tighten. He breathed in the smell of the detergent you used and sighed. He felt like you charged a little, that you needed to charge more but then again realistically in the area your store was in, there was no way that would happen or be profitable for you. Miguel set an alarm on his gizmo, projecting to wake up in 4 hours, hopefully sooner than you do. Then as he laid there on the clothes a thought came to him. Where was your kitchen? What did you eat? Sleep then overtook him.

Miguel woke up, and as he had hoped, before you by a few. The soft murmurs of your tv emitted from the door of your room and Miguel walked by with clothes. He had found a pile of clothes labelled, “clothes to wash regularly” which meant these were clothes that were sent out to be washed with no special treatment. He was googling a lot of things at this point as he learned how to separate clothes depending on colours, water temps, detergents. He put them in the regular machines and then when it was time, he put some in the regular dryer and some he hung up on a regular clothing rack. He went about this for a while until he decided to step out and buy breakfast for himself and for you.

After some time you woke up. Your head was pounding but you felt good considering everything. You got up and started to undress. The tv was still on, playing some cartoon now. You walked around putting the clothes in a corner and began to put on some leggings and an oversized sweater along with sock and some shoes. Today shouldn’t be so bad, you thought to yourself as you made your way to the bathroom.

While this was happening Miguel was actually holding onto a takeout bag with one hand and with the other he was holding onto his bright red neon web was currently on a man’s chest.

“You’re making me late.” He hissed to the man as he pulled in, a sharp flick of his wrist and the man came flying toward and fell onto Miguel’s feet. “I fucking hate being late.” His mask dematerialised off his face slowly and as soon as his mouth was shown, Miguel leaned down and grabbed the man up by the collar of his shirt and proceeded to sing his fangs into his throat. The man let out a horrifying scream but as quick as the scream came out, it subsided and the man went stiff. Miguel’s mask materialised again before it completely showed his face. His claws had torn through the man’s shirt but thankfully not through his skin, it was something Spider-Man slowly had to master as to not rip people’s hearts by accident. He threw the man over his shoulder and walked out the alleyway into the busy streets of New York.

“Spider-Man!” A little boy yelled out excitedly and Miguel rolled his eyes. He wasn’t upset with the little boy, he was upset because he was already running late and a meet and greet was going to slow him down. Thankfully people in this city minded their business so no one really looked up or come up to him, only the little boy did.

“Hey,” Miguel said as he kept walking. Usually on this side of town there were cop cars stationed because NYPD was usually up and about eating.

“What are you doing?” The little boy bounced happily next to Miguel like a sidekick.

“I’m going to leave this man with the police and then I have a breakfast date.” The little boy stopped walking and Miguel quickly stopped to turn and look at the child who was probably no older than 8.

“A date? Spider-Man has a girlfriend?” The child said it as if it were the most scandalous thing that had to be kept secret, his voice was hushed and he looked up at him. Miguel laughed and nodded.

“You can say I’m trying.” They kept walking. “Hey where’s your mom?”

“She went to also get us breakfast, I can’t walk too far away.” Miguel hummed in response, agreeing that maybe he should walk away too far either.

“I’m guessing you have to turn back now.” He said looking down at the little boy. The child smiled shyly and nodded. “Alright, I’ll see you around. What’s your name?”

“Sebastien.”

“See you around Sebastian and remember, listen to your mom.” Sebastien nodded and began to run the other opposite way towards his mother. Miguel eventually found a cop car and threw the guy into the backseat. Usually he did this as he had an okay relationship with the police, most of the people on the force liked him so they didn’t mind him but the force as itself wasn’t exactly excited with a stranger popping up and making them look stupid. A police officer saw him and smiled.

“Hey Spider-Man. Another one?” She nudged towards the direction of the backseat as Miguel shut the door.

“Yeah, he was trying to rob one of the bodegas and well, can’t have that.” She nodded as she walked over to back of the car and peered into the car through the window.

“How do you get them knocked out like that?”

Miguel shrugs.

“Anyways I gotta go,” he proceeded to give her the address of the convince store in case the owner wished to press charges.

You walked out of your room and towards the clothing side of the store. It was usually silent in the mornings but there was a soft humming from a machine coming through the air. Had you left a machine on last night? No, you didn’t. You prayed that no one had broken in last night otherwise you would be extremely upset with Leo for this. He was suppose to at minimum keep you safe at night. You find the machine that was making the noise and see it’s actually washing clothes you were lagging on.

When did you get up and do that?

Clothes are thrown every which way, organised in different colours, fabrics, according to sensitivity. This was nice. You grabbed your phone and hook it up to the tiny speaker on top of one of the bigger machines that were for dry cleaning and started playing music. Music poured out of the speaker, trying it’s best to fill the empty space with its sounds as you walked around grabbing clothes from the dryer and folding it. There wasn’t a moment you didn’t enjoy working here. If you had a crew, you wouldn’t be able to enjoy your mornings before opening correctly. Your mind however kept going back to Spider-Man. He wasn’t exactly bad like you had expected. It was actually super sweet how he had stayed in the hospital with you and it was sweet how he had managed to get you there in the first place, because he really didn’t have to. But you thought back to what the nurse had said to you about how he tried to fight his way in to stay with you and yet he was there but by getting through a window.

Time passed as you began to finish up everything for today. Usually you weren’t hungry in the mornings so breakfast wasn’t something you regularly did but maybe you should. You were alive, you were healthy. Why not?

You heard a door from the back side of the store open. Who could that- oh.

“Hey! Miguel is going to be running a bit late but I decided to come check up on you.” Spider-Man walked in holding a brown bag in his hand, blood stains on his suit were heard to miss as they were on his left shoulder. You looked at him. “I brought you some croissant sandwiches.” Silence. He narrowed his eye lenses at you. “Some people would say, ‘thank you’.”

“Thank you.” He put the bag down on top of one of the smaller machines and began to take out the sandwiches.

“I wasn’t sure if you liked cheese or if you ate pork. So I got you one of everything.”

“Thank you.” You look at him as he began to walk over to you and give you a croissant that was neatly wrapped. You look at it and see a number written on the wrapper. “I actually think this one is for you.” He looks down and sighs.

“Ignore that, here.” He hands it to you unwrapped. “It’s from my favourite place, I hope you like it.” You take a bite and yes, you could see why it was his favourite place.

“Thank you.” You say covering your mouth between bites.

“Is thank you all we say?” He says with a smile in his voice. You look up at his red eye lenses. He looks intimating, his suit was intimidating as well. Did he know that? Wait, Miguel’s eyes yesterday. They were red. Like the colour part of the eyes, they were red. And now here you were feeling small under another man’s red eyes.

“Are your eyes red too?” You managed to say between bites and swallows. Miguel’s lenses narrow ever so slightly.

“No, why?” Shit, he had forgotten to put on brown eye contacts yesterday.

“Just wondering.” You finish your sandwich and crumple up the wrapper in your hands, Spider-Man takes it from your hands and looks around the small space for a trash bin. Your phone then begins to play an embarrassing song so you quickly grab your phone and hit pause. Spider-Man seems unfazed as he throws the trash away.

“A dangerous thing for a little girl to be wondering.” He says absentmindedly. He could stay with her through the day as Spider-Man and help out. If someone else needed him, he would just be told by his gizmo on his wrist.

The day dragged on slowly, he would rather be out in the streets than to be dealing with the awkward silence in the store. People would come in, see Spider-Man and began to talk to him all while ignoring (Y/N) as she would charge them out and bring them their stuff. She didn’t mind it, it was a nice change for her as she didn’t really like forcing polite conversation with everyone that entered her store but she was a bit hurt. Everyone seemed to be so happy to see him and not her. It stung a bit but it wasn’t that horrible. She actually preferred Miguel now, at least they spoke. With Spider-Man it was awkward. Why was he here?

“Uh, so where’s Miguel?” You asked innocently as the day slowed down towards the evening. People had told other that Spider-Man was at the dry cleaners which was good for business because people came in for a picture with him and to drop off clothes. But while that meant more money for you, it also meant that tonight was going to be busy for you.

Miguel felt his heart skip a beat as he sat on a stool next to you as you stood at the counter, he was currently trying to hide and people peeked in from the windows to see if they could catch a glimpse at Spider-Man. He looked up at you, watching how unbothered you were as you sprayed down the counter and then cleaned it with a rag.

“He had some last minute things to do so I came to relieve him.”

You hun in response. You put the rag under the counter and turn to look at Spider-Man, he looked so comical on the tiny stool. Usually he towered over you but this was nice for a change. You put your hands on your hips and smiled down at him. Miguel felt like a child under your gaze.

“I like Miguel more than you.” You were testing the waters, wanting to see how he would react to this. He just looked up at you, unfazed it seemed. But under the mask Miguel felt like smiling.

“Yeah?” He says softly as he reached out his arms and circles them around the back of your knees. The sudden movement takes you by surprise as you buck forward as he pulled in close, your hands immediately go out and they land on his muscular shoulders as you hold yourself up. You look down at the man holding you like a child. You feel the sudden urge to place your hand on the side of his face. But he was faceless.

“Yes.” A whisper leaves you. He sighs.

“Why is that?” A gloved hand brushed the back of your right knee, you can feel his claws lightly caress you.

“He doesn’t speak much.” Your heart starts to beat faster as he presses the side of his face against your thighs.

“I can be silent too,” he murmurs into your thighs. “But I don’t think you would like that.” His hot breath brushes on your skin through the thin material.

“Okay well,” you pull his hands off you from behind and pull away. “I just wish Miguel had told me something.”

“Yeah, he’s not great at communicating at times.” He lets you go reluctantly. Was that too much? What Miguel didn’t know was that you were getting aroused. Well, he did know but he rather act oblivious to it.

You go past the counter, past him and his stool and begin to lock the doors. It was a bit early to be closing but you already had a heavy workload tonight and no one else was going to be coming in soon to pick up so why not? You were starting to close the curtains when two man in black baklavas knocked on your closed door. Spider-Man peeked go from the counter and saw how you unlocked the door, he sensed no anxiety from you.

“Sorry, I’m closed for the day.” You saw as they come in.

“We’re here for the rest of the week’s payment.” The taller man from last time says. You frown.

“How much?” You begin to make your way to the back of the counter, they are right at your heel. Spider-Man stands up.

“Oh, so it was true.” The shorter man says, excitement in his voice as he stands there looking at Spider-Man.

“Yeah and I don’t appreciate people coming in after hours and trying to shake down my boss for money.” Miguel’s voice is low with a hint of anger. His boss? (Y/N) feels confused. Who’s his boss?

“Look, we like what you do for the community but this isn’t your neighbourhood.” The taller one says, despite him being taller he looks tiny compared to Spider-Man. Miguel narrows his eyes. You put a hand on his chest and he looks down at you, your eyes filled with worry. You shake your head. There was a conversation going on between the two of you with your eyes, well eyes and lenses. You pull your hand away and go over to the makeup bag under the counter where you were storing the cash for today.

“How much again?” You say as you crouch down counting the money. What was going on? You had Spider-Man here! Might as well use him but you couldn’t as much as you wanted.

“400. Plus 200 as a tip.” The taller man says harshly. Miguel stands there, it’s like he might as well not be there. You count the money and get up.

“I only have 300.” You walk towards them to hand them the money but Spider-Man holds you back by the waist, his arm firm.

“No, you guys can go home. Like I said, my boss isn’t here to be shaken down. You guys did not provide her protection at all. She almost was shot at in the head and ended up in the hospital. Why should she pay when she got hurt?” Miguel was furious. He walked out in front of you and his claws seemed to have extended as he locked his eyes onto the two men. The man who had been talking more angrily walked up to Miguel as if to face off.

“That’s not our problem, she’s safe at night right? That’s all that matters.” Miguel scoffed as the guy said this.

“You have got to be fucking stupid.” He growled and immediately put his hands on the guy’s chest and picked him up by his jacket and shirt and threw him towards the side of the store. The man was shocked and out of breath as his back forcefully hit the brick wall. He crumpled down and laid there for a bit, trying to catch his breath. Miguel looked at the other shorter guy who held his hands up as if to say, “I’m not here.” “You go tell your boss that mine has protection already and if you want to come down here, it better be with clothes that need cleaning, now get out.” Your heart was pounding in your ears, your eyes traced Spider-Man’s large back and his broad shoulders. He didn’t even know just how hot he was right now. He called you his boss!

The man on the floor got up, coughing and groaning in pain. The shorter man ran to him and helped him up.

“Got it, love what you do Spidey!” The man says happily as he drags his injured partner out of the store with Miguel following behind them. He stopped at the doorway of the store and has to breathe to calm himself down. The doors and then locked up again and curtains are drawn for the night after some time.

Neither of you spoke.

You had put the money back into the makeup bag and began to sift through the clothes, making note of which was here for what and what they needed and so on. Miguel helped you as well, only the occasional here and thanks were exchanged between the two of you as you worked through the night.

You stole glances at him every so often. He seemed busy in thought as he loaded clothes into machines after you finished with them. It was so comforting in a way to have him here but you were keeping him from protecting the city. You didn’t want to be selfish so you finally broke the silence after a few hours.

“Any nightly patrols?”

“The police have got it.” He grunts in response. You nod and hang up clothes.

“But don’t you need to-“

“(Y/N), it’s fine.” Miguel wishes he could take off his mask.

“But you-“

“It’s fine, (Y/N).” He exasperates. “New York took well care of itself before I did.” You nod once again. You understood his unspoken words. Silence continues between the two of you outside of the sound of the machines and the occasional here and thanks. After some time you decide to call it a night.

“I’m going to go to sleep now.” Miguel nods. “Will Miguel-?”

“Yeah,” he says quickly and walks out the back of the store and you hear the locks turn, indicating he had locked you in.

“Okay.” You say to no one in particular. What an uncomfortable moment with him. You make your way to your room but before turning the light off from your work station. As you laid in bed with the soft buzzing of the tv you hoped you would see Miguel.

“If you ever come near (Y/N), I’ll rip your throat out.”

“I don’t think Spider-Man is suppose to talk to civilians that way.” A rather large man says to Miguel from behind a desk. Miguel had stalked around around your neighbourhood and found the shorter man that had been in your store previously and in exchange of protection from his technically former boss, he would take Miguel to him. But Miguel needed someone on the inside of it so he found himself with this man alone in an office.

How classy that this guy would have a building, it was actually really corny Miguel thought to himself.

“And how would you know?” Spider-Man’s eye lenses narrowed. Leo, the larger man, stared back at him and laughed.

“You’re too hippy to actually do anything. The shit you’re spitting out at me isn’t something I take lightly.” Leo stood up from his chair and put his hands on the desk. “You are not there right now with her, neither is your friend that was there yesterday. Your tone better start changing.” Miguel didn’t need to be there to wring this guy’s neck.

“Are you threatening me now too?” He murmurs.

“Didn’t you come in here first to threaten me?” Leo smiles and looks down at his desk, moving a few papers away. “Her business is my business, I own the building. She stays there because I allow it. Keep sniffing around and I’ll throw her into the streets. I doubt an unpaid vigilante even has money.” He sneered. While he could have been right had Miguel been any other usual Spider-Man variant, specifically Peter Parker, this just wasn’t the truth when it came to him.

“I see,” Miguel crossed his arms over his chest and let out a chuckle. “Well, again, don’t come near her ever again and don’t send your people out to shake her down. She doesn’t need your protection anymore so your services are not needed.”

“Oh and she’s under your protection now?” Miguel didn’t say anything. Leo rolled his eyes. “You might think your imitation tactics work but that works only on the low kind of criminals you usually go after, I work in politics, with companies. This is a different league that you’re trying to web yourself in and you’re going to end up finding that you’ll be the one with his head ripped off.” Miguel growled and without a single thought, immediately lunged at the crime boss, not a care in the world, seeing pure red as angry shook his very core. It was a very immature and undisciplined action from him, something he hadn’t done in so long because since he didn’t possess the Spidey-Senses his fellow Spider-Men did, he had taught himself to be more perceiving about things. Had he not acted out before taking careful note of Leo’s body language, he would have seen the rather sharp dagger that Leo was quietly nursing to his leg had come out and was now within the outer corner of his eyes. What a stupid mistake he had made.

#miguel o’hara x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x y/n #spiderman 2099 x y/n

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spdrvyn · 23 days

Note

Perhaps a request for Miggy x scientist reader? Reader is a a former Alchemex scientist who used to work with Miguel. They have been working in spider HQ ever since the beginning of spider society. Both of them have been too busy to realize the bottled up feelings and emotions that is about to burst….

breaking beakers

miguel and a reader that's been by his side since day 1. since the treachery of alchemax, you've been loyal to miguel and his cause for protection of the multiverse. read bit by bit how your relationship with miguel develops, even if it's only something as simple as helping him administer rapture.

angst. drug usage (rapture). panic attack. absolutely love this request! i've never written a story where the reader was already a part of miguel's past so this is new and exciting for me. thank you, anon! i put my own twist, i hope you still enjoy reading ♡

dividers by @cafekitsune

breaking breakers

When you got paired up with your workplace's assigned asshole, you were more than concerned for your career than ever.

Miguel wasn't easy from the start. Arguments were one after the other, followed by complete silence in the lab due to the inability of either of you to take accountability. You had never really heard him talk or engage in conversation properly unless it was to scold or correct you for making, according to him, a quintillion mistakes.

It stretched you thin, you were close to asking the higher-ups to give you another partner, but you knew that they would ignore your protests so you put up with it. Besides, talking smack with your friends outside of work helped. Though, you knew that they were getting a little tired from it as well.

After a particularly harsh argument with him, you couldn't retaliate with anything witty to say. You sulked in your own corner of the laboratory for a while, until Miguel silently placed a small, steaming hot cup of coffee on your desk.

That moment had triggered the beginning of your actual relationship. Sometimes, the room would still be strung tight with tension, but it was better than awkwardly hanging around each other and waiting for yet another fight to start. It slowly turned into Miguel giving you rides home, Miguel buying more than just coffee for you, and Miguel staying at your place after he dropped you off.

Then he quit.

Or did he get fired? Liberated, in corporate terms. You didn't know the full story, you got a new lab partner one day, Miguel was gone, there was no coffee on your desk anymore. There was no comfortable silence.

It was difficult to get a hold on him with the moments that followed, you knew well that he had a tendency to brood, but never for this long. He didn't leave you on read, your messages weren't even going through. You searched his name up on social media and found nothing, a thousand other Miguels but not your Miguel. You reached out to his brother after a lot of thinking, but he couldn't come up with an answer either because his family didn't know where he went either.

Perhaps it shouldn't have upset you as much as it should have, Alchemax viewed their employees as expendable toys. You didn't mean to get attached to him, but you had breached that line very long ago ever since the first shouting match. He was your friend now, no corporation was going to get between at least trying to talk again.

When you had gotten a message from an unknown number, there were only two possible answers. A telemarketer or Miguel. Likely possibilities, a fifty percent chance for either. You thanked God that it was the latter.

The power that was held in that conversation had changed the trajectory of your life forever. Miguel helped arrange a time for you to meet, the second you caught sight of him, it erupted a feeling in you that you just couldn't bring yourself to describe.

He still looked like him, but otherwise different. His face looked more sunken in, eyebags, lines you hadn't seen on his face before. He was definitely taller, his physique was more built as well. What caught your attention the most though was his eyes, crimson red and deliberately drained of light.

Miguel, what happened to you?

It was a long, overly extensive talk. You shouldn't have broken down over it, the events that lead up to his timely demise at his job. It wasn't your place to cry over his misfortunes, but he looked like he didn't have it left in him to cry so you took that place for him. Alchemax was your breeding ground for innovation and evolution of human society, a little shady around the edges, but you knew that you'd still be helping people in the end. After this, your hopes in that place had been quashed. Clearly if they were heartless enough to treat one of their top geneticists like this, they wouldn't be any better towards the safety and care of the populus.

So you quit your job immediately. Miguel invited you to Spider Society and you gladly agreed, you were in no position to really decline. Besides, it was a good way to get you back on your feet again. You had become acquainted with the people that passed by in what used to be headquarters back then, Miguel trusted them with his life it seemed (despite him not being able to admit that himself though).

You'd find yourself in HQ more than in your own apartment at that point, you enjoyed being there. You had closer friends, Spider-People were better company than mad scientists anyway. You helped Miguel make this new, exciting thing from foundation to the top. It helped you become more social, it made you more comfortable opening up to people again.

You just didn't know that it was doing quite the opposite with Miguel.

You had blamed yourself for not noticing sooner, for not picking up the details that he wasn't doing as fine as he thought he was. When you found the doors to his office locked, you already felt your heart begin to race. You called out to Lyla and she was more than willing to answer back, "He's going through something, he hasn't really been taking his Rapture doses recently and-"

"Let me handle it," you said, firmly. "I can help him. I can fix it."

Lyla looked at you, just looked. She didn't feel, she wasn't supposed to feel exactly. She could act like it, her programming allowed her that at least. She made perfectly calculated decisions and perfectly calculated reactions to them, when she noticed a problem, she was supposed to fix it.

You weren't as accustomed to Lyla as other people, but you were aware of that as well. In spite of that, she still managed to be the light in conversations most of the time. Literally, when it was the dead of night, just you and Miguel strewing and caking together more reports, she'd find ways to make it more entertaining.

That means if Lyla looked at you like she did, with so much uncertainty and inner conflict. It was like her code turned to beat like a human heart, you could hear it in the swift moment of silent she'd left you in. The hiss and whir to Miguel's office doors reeled you back in, Lyla sighed. She shouldn't sigh, she never sighed.

"Do the right thing," she wished you off. God, I hope so, you thought to yourself.

It was dark, obviously. You were used to it, ever since Miguel told you about how sensitive his senses can get, you didn't really mind at all. There was still light that peeked from the corners, a small monitor here and there, maybe a secret window you just didn't know about. It was cozy sometimes even to evade the blinding sunlight and stay in the darkness with Miguel. But that's not at all what it felt like when you entered. It did not embrace you, it suffocated you.

There was no accompanied noise either, no beeping from a monitor, no whirring of a machine, and no idle chatter with him and Lyla like there would always be. It was the purest form of silence, the sound of your breathing and the small pats of your shoes against the cold, metal ground was all you could hear.

Miguel's platform was placed high up, there was absolutely no way that you could get to him without using a web shooter. Unless you could somehow convince him to lower his platform, which you really didn't want to do in the case you might accidentally say something stupid.

"Miguel?" You yelled, stupidly. Though, it would be more stupid to try and propel yourself up to the height of his platform. One option results in humiliation until the end of your life while the other option could result in the end of your life. You weren't really looking forward to experiencing the latter.

You thought you heard him mumble something, but before you could call out his name again, he answered back. "Get out."

The absence of cruelty in his tone was prominent to you already. He didn't have the heart to speak so coldly to you in the first place. No, he sounded scared, fearful, whether it was of you or himself, you were yet to find out the reason why. The priority right now was to talk to him, properly.

"Are you sure about that? I have a, uh, really important work file that I need you to review! The multiverse is at stake here, Miguel. Come on!"

Silence. For a few seconds. Before you heard the unmistakable click and whir of his platform, it makes its slow descent down towards you. Miguel begun to enter your vision, he had a chair pulled up and he was hunched over on his desk. Rare, you knew he liked to work when standing (oddly enough).

"You're a bad liar," he grumbled, not even facing you as he said it. You sighed as you stepped onto the platform, placing your hands on your hips.

"I wasn't lying, but your doors were locked and Lyla told me that there was something going on here." Miguel mumbled something else under his breath that you couldn't catch, he simply goes back to what to whatever he's doing. Which you really couldn't allow, but you couldn't push yourself into this. With him, there was always some sort of process.

You took the moment to observe your surroundings, it was unbearably messy in here. A feat that he'd somehow been able to achieve despite being way past the age of papers, there was clutter everywhere. From beakers, liquids of mysterious origin pooled around from here to there, and even... Blood?!

Your attention had snapped back to Miguel and that's when you had started to notice, how his shoulders rose and fell faster than usual, his hands ruffled in his hair, the rapid successions of his breath.

"Miguel," Shock the process. Shock waiting. He clearly wasn't okay, you knew that to the fullest now. In three short strides, you were already by his side. "What's going on?"

He shook his head. Okay, you didn't want to press him too hard into talking, but this wasn't something that you could leave alone. Hesitantly, you placed a hand on one of his shoulders. He flinched, so did you, but right now, you needed to be the strongest person in the room so you kept your hand there.

You tilted your head to the side, just so you could see his face, but he avoided your gaze. What entered your sights however was a discarded needle gun, yet to be picked up, and a few claw marks on the table.

So this was the Rapture that Lyla was talking about. You hadn't a single clue what it was when she mentioned it, you pretended because you thought that she'd lock you out if you hadn't. Even then, there isn't much you could deduce aside from the fact that it was a drug Miguel had to take. You heard very little about the Rapture studies back in Alchemax, it was very classified, and you wish you would have pried more.

"Do you need help with that?" You asked, trying to keep your voice as level as possible. Your thumb drew small circles into the muscle of his shoulder, his hands fell from his hair to his sides. He slumped back against his chair with a big sigh, and he nodded.

Shakily, you picked up the gun. There was no seat for you to take, so you decided on sitting on the table. When you leaned down, the nanofabric of Miguel's suit had dissipated, revealing the fullness of his arm to you. You attempted to steady your hands over the exposed skin, Miguel doesn't even wince as the little needles pierce through.

It will probably take a little while for the vial to empty out. You stewed in the silence with Miguel for a while, you'd usually use this as an opportunity to make conversation, but judging from his current state, he probably isn't one for talking.

You released the breath that you were holding in when it was finished, you set the device for the side. Your hand remained on Miguel's shoulder the whole time and it tightened as you asked, "Is there–"

"No. No, I'm sorry. I'm just-" Miguel took a deep breath. "I'm- not ready to talk about it right now. It's a lot, sorry for bothering you."

He still wouldn't look you in the eye, you looked down to his hands and saw him tugging and pinching at the fabric of his suit. He'd calmed down a little now at least, but still. You couldn't help but feel like you've failed somehow, you tried to put on what's supposed to resemble a smile to him. "Okay, that's fine."

When he dismissed you and let you (told you) to leave him alone, you promised yourself that you'd wait. You'd wait for him to be ready.

But maybe he never will.

#spiderman: across the spiderverse #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #atsv #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 x y/n #hurt/comfort #tw drug use #tw panic attack

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