#it's seeing each other across the multiverse | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sweetimpurity · 10 days

Text

love and hate -------- NSFW w.c. 2.8k

“I don’t know why you kept running, I always catch you!” Miguel yells. He’s got you cornered in a dead end hallway on a random floor in HQ. After a long and tiring chase through HQ’s halls and vast spaces, you’re both here. It was a fight that started this. A fight about Miles and the fate of the multiverse. Where you seem to agree with Miles and want to help him, Miguel disagrees.

Peter and Jess will never understand the perpetual cycle of need and hatred you both feel towards each other. The two of you always butt heads on everything. From who’s leading what mission to the font on mission reports. Everything has to be a fight, an argument, a screaming match. It’s a miracle you haven’t quit yet, or that Miguel hasn’t thrown you out the window by now. And yet every time you storm off, he always chases after you.

“You are so stubborn it’s exhausting!” You yell in his face, watching him stalk towards you as you’re desperately trying to catch your breath from running so fast. Leaning back against the wall, your lungs burning from the exertion. “Maybe if you’d just agree with me, just once, then we wouldn’t have to waste our time running around!” He yells, his voice booming back down the empty hallway. “Instead you have to act like the little brat you are, a little princess!” He spits with venom, trying to break you down.

“You’re the princess! You need everyone to just do what you say all the time, you’re just… you-” You yell, stammering over your words a bit and he presses one hand to each side of your head against the wall. You don’t even notice at first, you’re so wound up, but he’s trying to intimidate you with his size. “Yeah say what you need to say, princesa, I’ll wait.” He says mockingly, watching you unable to find the proper words as you’re still simultaneously catching your breath. “Shut up!” You yell, slapping him hard across the face.

He’s stunned for a second. It wasn’t hard enough for him to really be affected by it but he’s not just gonna let it slide “Did you just slap me?” He yells. “Yeah! I slapped you! And you deserve it!” You squirm to escape the enclosure of his body but he puts his hands on your hips to stop you from moving, his thighs on either side of yours to keep you from leaving. “Stop moving around!” He yells as you squirm, his frustration growing. “Let me go, asshole!” You slap him again, and his grip on you tightens, grabbing your wrists to stop you from doing it again. “Princesa, you’re acting crazy right now.” His voice drops an octave, his cheek growing slightly pink from your hand across it. “I’ll do it again.” You threaten, and his eyes flash with something. “Do it again.” He demands, letting go of your hands to give you the option. But you know it’s not that simple. “Do it again and see what happens.”

Your eyes narrow, wondering what the catch is, knowing there must be one. His eyes burning holes into yours. “No.” You huff, crossing your arms defiantly. “C’mon, princesa, I’m giving you the green light, slap me again.” He says mockingly. “Stop calling me that.” You demand, scowling up at him. “Slap. Me. Again. And see what happens.” He practically growls, staring you down. You have half the mind to just do it. What would he do? The worst he can do is hit you back, right? And you’ve fought countless villains before, this shouldn’t be too different.

The silence is heavy as the tension is between you. His eyes just daring you to do it. “Come on princess!!” He shouts. And your hand meets his red cheek for the third time.

Smack! And it’s all happening at once, you slap him, he makes his move, smashing buttons on his watch and your holographic spider suit disappears. Leaving you completely naked.

“Ahhh!” You scream, instantly covering up, a flush on your cheeks and goosebumps over your whole body. “The fuck is wrong with y-” And his mouth is on yours, his hands grabbing at your hair, keeping your mouth locked with his. His tongue in your mouth, his talons pricking at the back of your neck. He’s not kissing, he’s devouring, pressing you up against the wall, pressing his knee between your legs, his clothed thigh against your bare beating pussy.

You want to yell at him more, cuss him out, punch and scream. But all you can think is “thank Jesus… finally…”

Moans leave your throat, escaping into his mouth, his body moving to press into you more. He manages to press some more buttons, his own suit disappearing in an instant, and you feel his warm skin on yours. He’s so warm, in fact, he’s sweltering hot. You remember him giving you that suit. One of nanotech like his own. He said it was because he needed you to not be reckless and get yourself killed. He needed you to protect the multiverse and this suit offered much more protection than the old spandex. And while that was true, he also gave it to you so he could monitor your body. Like knowing when your hormones change or when you’re hurt. And like right now having total control and instant access to you and already knowing that you’ve been dripping wet for him ever since you stormed out of his office.

“I told you… something would happen… you never listen…” He pants between suffocating kisses, moving to your neck, his teeth biting marks into your skin, sucking and kissing all your sweet spots he’s able to find in seconds. You just moan at this, hands running up his bare arms, eyes closed but you’re able to feel every sculpted muscle, the hair on his forearms, the veins bulging. “So wet, princess…” He whispers, hand moving down between your flushed thighs and playing with you, collecting your slick on his fingers and running his fingertips down your slit to where you need him most, plunging two fingers inside with no warning.

“Ngh!” You whine at the instant stretch and slight burn. Slapping the back of his shoulder, fingers digging into his skin. He looks down at you, grinning evilly. “Fuck you…” You groan, knowing he did that on purpose. “But you’re dripping princesa, they just slide right in…” He mumbles, smiling at your pout, and his lips are back on yours, sucking at your lips and the tip of your tongue. His fingers start their rhythm, pumping in and out, curling at just the right time to hit all the perfect spots. “M-Miguel!” You gasp, head throwing back against the wall, hips rolling up into his hand. You just can’t help it.

“Feels good?” He grins, kissing over your cheeks and biting at your jaw. Teasing you as your walls melt down. “F-fu-uck y-you…” You breathe out, withering away from his touch. Bound to become a puddle on the floor. “Good…” He hums, flicking his fingers inside, feeling for when your walls squeeze and continuing that motion the same way over and over again. His thumb presses to your clit as his fingers work inside, your beating bundle of nerves soothed and stimulated by the pad of his finger working in small controlled circles.

Eyes closed, kissing him back sloppily, you reach down, finding his dick hard and heavy for you against his stomach, feeling its length and size in the palm of your hand. Hearing his breath hitch against your lips as you grip him, pressing your thumb to his tip. “Ugh.. turn around…” He husks, pulling back and pushing you to face the wall, your breasts pushing up against the cold metal, his hands on your hips instantly. “Haaa….” He breathes out in relief when his tip runs through your puffy folds, just dripping for him as always. But you’d never let him know that before.

Without another word he slowly sinks in, relishing in the gasps that escape your kissed lips, his hands moving all over you, feeling all the nerves in his body exploding and tingling at once. “M-Mig- ah!” You gasp and whine, reaching behind you, grabbing onto his wrist, his fingers soon entwining with yours. One hand in yours and the other reaching around, splaying out on your stomach as he starts pushing into you, pulling out and back in again. “Haa… so warm princesa… so tight…” He groans next to your ear as he makes shallow thrusts within you, stretching you out, his tip gradually delving deep enough to hit your cervix. You whine at the slight sting, back arching and pressing your chest and face to the wall in front of you, and he plants kisses on your shoulder, moving to your neck and biting down on your skin. It all descends into madness, his hips snapping into your ass, both his hands entwining with yours, holding them behind your back. Panting like a hound and humping into you against the wall. Neither of you are able to care about any unlucky spider-people who would potentially walk down this way.

“I-I’m gonna cummmm…. Miguel!” You whine, gasping and flushed all over, losing your mind on his big dick. “Not yet… not yet.” He scolds softly. You whimper, already feeling that ache in your tummy, the one that tells you you’re close. He keeps going, grunting and growling in your ear. “Wait wait- someone’s coming!” You whine, your spider sense suddenly alerting you to someone walking up the stairwell that leads to this hall. “No one’s coming.” He husks, his lack of spidey tingle keeping him unaware. “No no really!” You whimper, your knees buckling when his fingers come back in contact with your clit. He only believes you when his super sensitive hearing picks up on the click of the door latch at the end of the hall. Grabbing you and pushing through the door to your right. His security clearance opens the door right away and you both burst inside. A vacated office, dark and littered with old boxes and filing cabinets. He’s grabbing you, your chest pressed to his now and your fingers in his hair, kissing him deep and sloppy, your orgasm dying down the longer he’s not inside anymore. In his haste, you both bump into a filing cabinet, the metal making a loud crash and bang once it meets the floor. The box of old tech falls on the floor adding to the noise. He lifts you onto the big metal desk, shoving everything off, the smash and thud of everything just adding to the cacophony of sounds from inside this room.

“Stop breaking everything!... fucking animal!” You yell and frown at him, smothered by his lips and his hands all over, his strength pressing you down flat on the desk. “Just hold still! Squirming all over the place!” He scolds, a smile on his face and you swear you heard him giggle. This beast of a man giggling as he mounts the desk hovering over you. You can’t help but smile and try to stop yourself from laughing. “C’mon…work with me here…” He pants, pushing his hair back and out of his face as he nestles his hips between your thighs, his big dick slipping in so deep and easy. “Ah!” You squeal. “Mmm!” He grunts. And you’re both moaning, groaning, grinding into the other, chasing that sweet release as any sense of reason flies right out the window.

…

“Should we go check on them?” Jess sighs, glancing at Peter across the desk. The two of them waiting in Miguel’s office, patiently all this time, assuming the two of you would return at some point and you could continue with this meeting. “No, I’m sure they can handle it… they just need to work things out.” Peter says optimistically, fidgeting with a random piece of machinery that was laid out on Miguel’s desk. The two of them just fiddling their thumbs and waiting for you two to come back.

“D’you try that new burger in the cafeteria?” Peter asks. Jess shakes her head, checking the time and crossing her arms. “It’s the Spider-Ham… burger…” Peter laughs. Looking pretty proud of himself. “Did you come up with that yourself?” She raises a brow, eyes narrowed, unimpressed. His smile fades. “No.”

“Hm.”

…

“Mm fuck… take it all… all that fucking cum…” He grunts in your ear, pumping his second load into you as you’re pulsing from your third orgasm. By this point you’re ass up, titties smushed on the desktop, his enormous size humping over you, the arch in your back almost painful with how hard he’s giving it to you. “Ahh-hhh…” A fluttering moaning sigh escapes you, riding out your last orgasm but he doesn’t stop and you feel the next one building up already.

“M-Mig… mmmm…” You moan and hum, cockdrunk and soft like silly putty, malleable for his use. “You sound so pretty…” He breathes out, panting but it doesn’t stop him. “Pretty little slut…”

His hands go in your hair again, pulling it back just so he can hear you whine again. “Mmm-ah!” You whimper and gasp, jaw falling open as he pounds into you as if you haven’t been going at this for four rounds straight. He pushes into you, in deep, toe curling pulses, his dick gliding perfectly past all the spots that have you melting.

Squeak squeak squeak squeak squeak. The desk adds to the noise. The structure shaking with his unending, ever powerful thrusts. Squeak squeak creak creak pop! And you’re both gasping as the desk gives out from under you, one side going down as you both slide down the desktop tilting towards the floor. It all happens in a blur of seconds and as he pushes on top of you, his dick goes deeper than ever. Ripping a gasping scream from your throat. “Mm-AHH-hhhhaa!!”

He manages to catch himself by the time you both slide to the floor. The arch in your back even deeper as your lower half is elevated on the slanted desktop. But it doesn’t stop Miguel. He keeps pounding you, grabbing at your hands and pulling them back.

“I can’t… I can’t ah!” You whine, completely overwhelmed and fucked out. Eyes rolling back as he reaches unimaginable depths. “I win…” He grins, panting and trying his best to keep fucking you with all his might. “I won, say I win.” He chuckles, his hand rubbing over your back in a stark contrasting tenderness. “I win.” You smile deliriously, knowing that’s not what he wanted to hear. His hand meets your red and raw ass cheek. “Mm! Fuck!” The gasp fills your chest but the slap makes you squeeze around him, your orgasm burning in your thighs and your stomach. “You never learn, do you?” He rasps in your ear, leaning over you, his chest pressing down to your back as his hips piston into you with undying fervor. “No…” You sigh, eyes fluttering closed and moaning sweetly as the waves wash over you, his face falling into the crook of your neck as your bodies move as one, a live grenade about to blow.

“Ohhh… Miguel!” Your moans really are music to his ears and with a few final thrusts he’s pushing deep inside. Spurting right at your cervix, pumping you full and raw for the third time as you tremble and pulse around him. Legs like jello and shaking all over. “Haa…” He sighs, arms wrapped around you as the movement eventually and finally stops. The room stilling, coming down from madness as you both come down from all that just happened.

“Oh my god…” You sigh, sweating and worked out. “Are you okay?” He asks softly, looking around to try and move from this precarious position half propped up on the collapsed desktop. He carefully pulls out and lifts your hips to lay more comfortably flat on the floor. “Hey. You okay?” He asks again, sitting up next to you, brushing some hair out of your face as he looks over you. “Mm… yeah” You sigh, catching your breath as the aftershocks pulse through your nerves.

He leans down, kissing your shoulder a few times, resting his head in one hand and laying beside you, looking down at you. Among the mess and disaster this room has been made into. “How’s your back?” He asks and you can hear the shit-eating grin in his voice. “Broken!” You whine, slapping his arm with the back of your hand. He giggles, hiding away from your gentle slaps, knowing he really pushed your limits just now. Soon he grabs your hand, pulling to his lips, kissing your palm and the backs of your knuckles. The line between loving and hating him getting thinner all the time.

#please i need him #i need him so bad #miguel ohara #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 #artists on tumblr #miguel fanart #miguel spiderverse #artists on tiktok #smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara smut #miguelohara #miguel ohara fanart #miguel x you #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara smut

601 notes · View notes

celaenaeiln · 3 months

Note

in like a one person gets one, who would dicks soulmate (platonic or not idk) be? i’ve asked this to several ppl and the answers are usually wally, donna, or jason though i’ve seen some ppl say slade, roy, and bruce.

Anon your ask has literally been haunting me at night. I thought I knew the answer but then you hit me with a Donna!! But between Bruce and Donna, I can't decide so I'll just present a case for both.

Bruce

Bruce and Dick are soulmates on a cosmological scale. The DC universe ordained them to always find each other because they're quite literally a fated pair.

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight Issue #23

Bruce: The only regret is that I'm out there alone. It felt good having someone at my back, being part of a team...but no sense wasting time wishing for something I'll never have.

Dick: He's cool, dad...d'you think we'll ever see him when we play Gotham?

The universe literally brings them together no matter the circumstances.

Convergence Issue #4

"The bond between you and Bruce Wayne echoes in every reality."

I don't think there's any stronger evidence for Dick and Bruce being soulmates than this.

But if that's still not enough I have more-

The Multiversity: Guidebook

In Bruce's world he lost Dick and in Dick's world he lost Bruce, but still in the end they somehow find each other. In every universe that has Batman, if someone is his partner it's always Dick.

In the medieval ages world-

Batman: Dark Knight of the Round Table Issue #1

The world of "A Christmas Carol" with Ebenezer Scrooge -

Batman: Noël

In a world where Bruce is a doctor at Arkham -

The Batman of Arkham

Dick is always there as his second.

Here's another interesting but depressing fact: In worlds where Dick Grayson has died as Robin, Bruce Wayne has never taken in another Robin.

This is because on top of the fact that Dick and Bruce as fated to meet, Dick means the entire world for Bruce. Like sometimes Bruce will come across a case with a child involved and the first thing he'll think about is Dick.

Batman: City of Madness Issue #2

Bruce's mind and life is literally consumed by Dick Grayson on a cosmologically spiritual level.

Donna

Donna is Dick's soulmate on a twin-sister spiritual level. Dick and Bruce are two halves of a whole, yin and yang. Dick and Donna though are one person. Their relationship is like taking paint and mixing it together to get something new. Like in those comics where two people look at each other and there's a "zing!" and suddenly it's an instant connection. That's them.

Titans (2016) Special 1

additionally:

Titans (2016) Special 1

New Titans (1988) Issue #89

Dick and Donna have no secrets. They're like a jigsaw puzzle, their pieces fall right into place.

He's always there for her-

The New Teen Titans (1980) Issue #38

They're so special and integral to each other that when an evil witch erases Donna from everyone's memories, there is only one focal point for her. One focal person for her throughout the years. Even though he doesn't remember her, Dick literally goes back in time with his future daughter Mar'i to help Donna, his soul-sister-

The Titans (1999) Issue #25

In every. single. moment of Donna's past Dick appears again and again to comfort her and be her pillar from Robin to civies to Nightwing. In the "Who is Donna Troy" Arc, as the story goes from the origins of Donna to the present, it becomes very clear that Dick is her centerpoint.

They're the definition of soulmates.

She knows him better than anyone else and he knows her. She even had him walk her Donna the aisle for her wedding. He was given that honor because of who they are to each other.

Tales of the Teen Titans Issue #42

I...

just-

Tales of the Teen Titans Issue #50

to love like that...

They're made for each other.

#dick grayson #nightwing #bruce wayne #batman #donna troy #wonder girl #troia #robin dick grayson #dc titans #titans as family #cl anon asks #cl asks #thanks for the ask!#koriandr #starfire

466 notes · View notes

heliads · 11 months

Note

Can I pretty please request Carlos Sainz x reader where she’s rly shy and gets worried that maybe he wants someone more outgoing but he tells her he loves her any way she is? Your writing is amazing 🫶🏻

anon i love you wholeheartedly please let me speak on carlos

masterlist

You are not who you are supposed to be. There are qualifications for being the girlfriend of a Formula One driver, you’re sure of it, probably even a style guide somewhere if you only bothered to look it up. Perfect hair. Clean makeup. Pretty, but doesn’t try too hard. Willing to give up their whole life to follow one man on mad jaunts across the planet. Wherever your guidebook is, though, you must have lost it long ago, because you have absolutely no idea what you’re doing, and worst of all, it’s starting to show.

You never should have gotten into this position in the first place. That isn’t to say that you hate it, far from it; dating Carlos Sainz is the best thing that ever happened to you, making you the happiest wrong person at the right time to ever exist. In every other universe, he’s probably seeing models or actresses, but here, he has you, and you’re willing to fight off every multiversal version of you just to keep everything as it is right now.

Your butterfly effect was quite stunning, actually. You ended up getting tickets to a Grand Prix through last minute cancellations. They were great, came with paddock passes and all that, and while you were lingering through Ferrari hospitality, Carlos happened to drop by to visit a friend and he noticed you while you were in line to get some water. He’s got the confidence of, well, a world class athlete, an adrenaline junkie, a professional race car driver, and so he introduced himself.

Sometimes, it’s just as easy as that. A father’s cousin’s roommate buys two tickets to a Grand Prix, then a stranger’s roommate’s brother gets sick, and suddenly you’re touching down off a plane overseas and walking through the door of paddock hospitality. You wear red, and you are seen. Just like that.

It took one more weekend before either of you knew that you wanted what you had to last for good. He texted you, followed you on Instagram and blew his cover of seeming cool by accidentally liking a post of yours from six years ago. And, when he saw you again, he knew that he wanted the spark between you to be something more, something like a bonfire.

Coincidence may have supported you thus far, but you don’t trust it not to abandon you. At the end of the day, you are you, you are Y/N L/N, and you are so far removed from Carlos’ world that it stuns you to think that you were even in his orbit so long as to meet him. If there are powers that be somewhere in the universe, they’re either playing a cruel joke or messing around to give you a helping hand.

Hopefully, it’ll be the latter, but truly who knows at this point. As if it wasn’t surreal enough to introduce Carlos to your friends and family as Carlos Sainz, Formula One driver. As if it doesn’t blow your minds that people have started making Instagram accounts just dedicated to posting photos of you and your boyfriend whenever you’re seen out together.

The problem lies in the insanity of it all. You are not from this sort of life, you weren’t born into a silver spoon dynasty and you barely know how to interact with any of them now. You get along with the other WAGs as best you can; Heidi’s lovely, sure, and you were friendly with Charlotte until she disappeared, but sometimes it feels like it’s just you and your boyfriend against the world. Of any ally to pick, Carlos would be your top choice each and every time, but still. The fact remains that he will go out and race and leave you to your own devices, and you lack the extroverted impulses to social climb with everyone else.

This, then, is the main concern. You can pick out whatever designer clothes you want, goodness knows Carlos has offered to buy you anything already, and you can get your nails and hair done before each and every race, but that doesn’t change the fact that you, at your core, are never going to enjoy the paparazzi circus whenever you have to brave it.

It’s just not your scene, that’s all. You’re on the quieter side, happy to spend time with a few key friends but increasingly nervous in large crowds. Formula One is all large crowds, as you’ve discovered; thousands of fans, hundreds of engineers and team members, plus drivers and girlfriends and best friends. So many eyes, all on you. So many voices all shouting over each other.

You love Carlos, though, and you love him wholeheartedly, so you gather up your courage and go to race weekends when you can. Every time Carlos sees you in the crowd, he smiles so widely his friends tease him for weeks, and he runs to you first after every podium and strong finish. You want to be there for your boyfriend, truly you do, you just wonder if all of this should come easier to you than it does.

Also, you wonder if Carlos wishes the same thing. He has been nothing but perfect to you, so the spirals of guilt currently tangling their way through your insides are purely of your own creation, but what if he truly does think like that? Carlos must see the other WAGs, how they shine and sparkle with attention instead of feeling the urge to run. Wouldn’t he want that? Wouldn’t he get frustrated that you can’t be like the rest?

Thousands of girls in the world, and he picks you. You don’t know if it’s sweet or genuinely frightening. He wanted you out of everyone, yes, but he could replace you in a snap, swapping you out like some useless part on his car. There is nothing about you that cannot be replicated in any other girl. Even Charles did it, in a way, got himself a new girlfriend that’s a dead ringer for Charlotte. Carlos has no reason to keep you except for something he knows and you don’t.

The guessing will drive you mad, maybe, but you’ll lose your sanity long before that just trying to keep up with everything in his fast-paced life. You’ve been to prior F1 races, obviously, it’s how you met Carlos in the first place and it’s also how you kept him, but this upcoming weekend is different, this is Barcelona. Carlos is the center of attention at his home race, and every step he takes, a new storm of people is flooding in to ask him for autographs, selfies, anything to remind them that he’s real and right before their eyes.

Carlos doesn’t ask for a whole lot, and he certainly didn’t force you to come to this race, but you saw the hope in his dark eyes when he brought it up oh-so-casually at a dinner last week. You had assured him that you would go there to cheer him on along with the rest of his home crowd, and Carlos had been delighted for the rest of the evening.

You are happy to go, truly, but it’s taking everything in you to keep your smile up in front of the reporters and crowds and fans, and it’s just the first day. All you’re handling right now is qualifying, not even the actual race. In the back of your mind, a voice whispers that it’s only going to get worse from here on out, but when Carlos looks back at you as you wind through the paddock, you just smile and tell him you’re glad to be there with him. You’re here for him, after all, and Carlos is busy enough with race stuff that he won’t want to hear your complaints.

That’s what you keep repeating to yourself throughout the entirety of that day. Carlos qualifies well and is properly pleased about it, as he should be. The possibility of a podium or perhaps even a win for his home race has been one of his top goals for the season, and he’s as close as he can get to it right now. He earnestly talks about it the whole drive back to your hotel, but once you’re back in the safety and peace of the room, the conversation abruptly switches back to you.

Carlos sheds his jacket at the door, watches you flop down onto the bed with a smile on his face, then asks you pointedly, “And how are you doing, amor?”

You smile back at him, the expression trained to perfection after being tested so many times today. “Great! Glad that everything’s going so well for you. I’ll be cheering for P1 tomorrow.”

In truth, you’re tired more than anything. People kept coming up to you all day, assuming that taking a selfie with Carlos’ girlfriend was at least half as good as getting to see him. They gave you all manner of gifts and things to give to him, extracting promises that you’d tell him dozens of different people wished him well. You knew you’d get a lot more attention when you started dating Carlos, but the lack of personal space and privacy at the races is truly unlike anything you’d experienced before.

Carlos has been dating you long enough to pick up on this, apparently, because he furrows his brow and sits down on the edge of the bed next to you. “I’ll be glad to see you tomorrow, but do you want to tell me what is really on your mind? Don’t try to tell me otherwise. I know you, no?”

You sigh, covering your face with one of your arms. Carlos deflects from this attempt to hide by gently pulling your arm away, pressing a kiss to your forehead to make up for it. “Talk to me, cariño.”

You look sorrowfully at him, but when it becomes clear that Carlos won’t let you go until you confess, you give in. “It’s just a lot, I guess. The people and the cameras and everything.”

Carlos frowns. “I can get them to go away, you know that. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

You look away. “I just thought you wouldn’t want to hear it. All of the other girlfriends have no problem with it, just me. I thought you’d want me to be more outgoing, so I tried, I really did, it’s just hard for me, I don’t know why.”

When you dare to risk a glance up at Carlos, you’re surprised to notice that he looks genuinely hurt. “Sweetheart, you didn’t think that I would actually be unhappy about that? I just want you to be happy. Don’t think about me.”

You let out a low breath. “I know, it’s just– I want to be like the rest, really. I don’t want this to be a reason–”

You cut yourself off, distracted by Carlos’ hands still wrapped around yours. Carlos picks up on the obviously dropped subject, though, and looks at you with fresh concern. “You don’t want it to be a reason for what?”

“That you would break up with me,” you whisper.

That’s it, then. That’s the truth. If you can’t live with Carlos’ lifestyle, why wouldn’t he leave you for someone who could? It makes perfect sense to you, but judging by Carlos’ expression, that logic couldn’t be further from his mind.

“No, Y/N,” he says, “That’s not right at all. I don’t want to break up with you, like, ever. Not because of this. I don’t want someone else, I want you. I love you, querida. I love the girl who showed up out of nowhere and made me forget about every other woman in the world. I love the girl who shows up to my home race even though it stresses her out because she wants to be there for me. I love you, Y/N. No one else. Just you.”

And, well, in the face of such passionate declarations, who could stand firm in their own self-pity? Certainly not you. You smile and let him kiss you again and again until you can’t see straight, and after that it is better, it is all better. Hearing it straight from Carlos is better than trying to guess at it. It lets your worries finally sink off into nothingness. It’s just you and him, just what he wants. Just what you want.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz imagines #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz oneshot #f1 #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 oneshot #formula one #formula one imagines #formula one x reader #formula one oneshot #f1 carlos #f1 carlos imagines #f1 carlos x reader #f1 carlos oneshot

1K notes · View notes

ovaryacted · 11 months

Text

Insoportable

Summary: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader. Miguel couldn’t stand you, the more you refused to listen to him and his orders, the closer he got to snapping. After another failed mission, he’s had enough, and takes it upon himself to put you in your place.

Warnings: 18+/MDNI. NSFW. Porn with plot. Dom/sub elements, throat/face fucking, degradation & praise, slight size kink, slight choking, rough sex, bare backing, mention of fluids.

WC: 5.2k

A/N: Took me a while to write this but I hope it’s enjoyable. Originally was an enemies to lovers plot but it’s more of a passionate stress relief type thing, I’ll do actual enemies to lovers/hate sex another time. For the record, I speak Spanish, so the Spanish you see in this piece is how I’d personally speak. Title is also in Spanish lolz. :)

You were insufferable, a nuisance every time you walked in the room or were in close proximity to Miguel. A firecracker that hated following orders or being told what to do. He didn’t even know how you managed to last this long as a spider-person or why you were chosen to become one since you behaved so recklessly. In his mind, you were a hazard to have on his elite strike force, but Jess was the one that convinced him you would be a good addition to the team. That was a few months ago, and he continues to figure out whether or not having you around was a good or bad thing. So far, it was definitely leaning towards bad.

You never listened to him, often going off on your own on missions or making small mistakes that would throw him off. It was almost as if you enjoyed seeing him upset, making it harder to tolerate you and leading to more arguments. The constant bickering and fighting was a daily occurrence, a game of pull and push to see who would make the other crack, and usually, it was you pushing Miguel to his limits.

This was how your relationship was, if he can even say you guys had one, and he still remembers how your eyes gleamed with mischief when you were introduced to the Spider Society. At first glance, he comes off as intimidating, even scary with his size and demeanor alone. But with you? It was the complete opposite, like your ego was as big as him and then some. He couldn’t understand why you didn’t take him seriously.

Of course, today was no different.

“This isn’t how we organized this!”, Miguel yelled at you from the other side of the street, climbing up one of the buildings to catch up to your rapid swinging.

Currently, you were tracking down a lizard variant that Miguel had ordered you to capture and bring back to HQ. It was intended to be a solo mission, but instead of listening to him the first time around, you brought your newest friend Hobie to keep you company. As if the brunette’s stress couldn’t get any worse, seeing you two together creating havoc across the multiverse blew his blood pressure through the roof. The second you joined his team, you and Hobie instantly clicked, becoming almost inseparable when you met each other. Two rebels, two people who hated authority were brought together by fate. If Hobie’s anarchist tendencies were bad then, they’re worse now, and it only wore poor Miguel out knowing that headache number one found its match.

The variant from Earth-374 was tracked down in the sewer system, both you and your favorite rockstar managing to slow it down and trap it in one of the underground tunnels using your webbing. In celebration, you stopped by to get hot dogs, feeling you deserved a break and cheering at a job well done. Excitedly, you reported back to Miguel of your successful capture, hoping that maybe for once, he wouldn’t look at you with such dismay. Only when it was time for him to come to retrieve the anomaly, he was dumbfounded to see traces of webbing and no lizard. It escaped right under your grasp, your clumsy mistake of not securing them properly and forgetting to set up the sensors caused this to happen. You could practically see the tick in Miguel’s jaw as he all but looked at you in vexation.

Now you were attempting to amend your mistake with Miguel and Hobie alongside you, chasing the creature down through the streets of an alternate New York City. Despite both of them being there to help you, you still managed to go off on your own.

“I almost have it! Just let me get this!”, you called back to Miguel, distancing yourself from the other two as you launched your body towards the reptile underneath you. Miguel constantly called you out on this, how you always put yourself in danger instead of actively trying to get away from it. Your spider-senses were the same as everyone else’s, yet you behaved as if you didn’t use them half of the time, enjoying the thrill of being put in such precarious situations.

Hobie followed your lead while Miguel continued to grumble under his breath. You landed on the lizard’s back, shooting your webs to cover their eyes and blind them momentarily. They thrashed around the bustling streets, scaly skin rough against your feet and sharp claws reaching out to grab you.

A backflip here, another dodge and curve of your body there, you landed on top of the lizard’s head. They snarled when you shot another array of webs at their jaw, creating a makeshift lead and pulling upwards. In the mayhem of the chase, Miguel shot his own red webbing at its feet, yanking backwards and watching the mutated reptile slam into the concrete face first. Hobie mimicked the larger man’s actions, the both of them working in tandem to bring the lizard down to the ground and secure it thoroughly. You busied yourself with webbing its mouth shut, taking extra care to ensure you wouldn’t repeat your initial mistake.

Even if this was considered a personal redemption, you didn’t have the time to recover your breath before Miguel was on you again, his tone harsh and condescending.

“Do you have any idea what the hell you just did? How many times do I have to tell you to do things the way I say?!”, Miguel spat out, scolding you as if you were a child that lacked common sense.

“We still caught them no? The damage isn’t so bad”, you said stubbornly, putting your hands on your hips and looking up at Miguel defensively. From the way the outline of the eyes on his mask curved downward, you could tell he was irked. Perhaps this was his last straw with you.

“You destroyed half of the damn city! Are you really this stupid and hasty?”, he said almost exasperatingly. No matter how hard you tried to talk to him, Miguel never listened. He always wanted things done his way, and he just couldn’t stand the fact that you never saw him through.

“I wouldn’t be this hasty if you would just get off my back! You’re always so uptight!”

“This conversation isn’t over, you hear me?”, he hovered above you, not wanting to prolong this argument any longer. Messing with the buttons on his watch and opening a portal back to H.Q., he entrapped the lizard variant and threw them through the bright colors of the interdimensional opening. He took one last glance at you before walking through, leaving you and Hobie behind as you sighed and looked down at your feet.

“I messed up, didn’t I?”, you asked Hobie, who started walking towards the portal with you close behind.

“Nah, it’s not that bad. The big man will get over it”, he said with a shrug, tone of voice slightly teasing and doing nothing to calm your nerves.

You only silently hoped that Hobie was right.

Miguel exhaled with his fingers pressed against the bridge of his nose, breathing through his nostrils as he tried to regain some peace of mind. After today’s fiasco of a mission, he called you and Hobie back to his lab to discuss it. Whether it was just to talk or simply yell at you again for your failure, you were about to find out.

“Miguelito, you’re going to pop a vein at this rate with the way you’re stressing out,” you teased, looking over at the very agitated Spider-Man.

Oh, he hated that. He loathed how easily the nickname slipped past your lips whenever you antagonized him. You always found more ways to get under his thick skin, and this was one of the things you did from your long list that seemed to upset him the most.

“Dios dame paciencia”, Miguel muttered under his breath, huffing and puffing as he paced around.

“I lied before, he’s definitely pissed at you now”, Hobie said next to you, smugly glancing between you and your mutual boss from the corner of his eye.

“It’s not so bad, I swear”, you put your hands up in fake innocence, and Miguel just chuckled dryly under his breath.

“You’re joking right? You let the anomaly go because you weren’t paying attention, and I have to clean up after your mistakes, again”, Miguel turned his back to face you, red eyes looking at you fiercely.

“Okay, I may have done that, but we caught them right after. What’s the big deal?”, you said, shrugging, which only seemed to tick Miguel off more, feeling his shoulders tense and his left eye beginning to twitch.

“And that’s my cue to leave. Good luck, mate”, Hobie says, saluting you and leaving you to face Miguel’s wrath alone.

“What’s the big deal? You just don’t get it, do you? You’re always so careless, you never listen to me, and then you act oblivious when you mess up. How the hell are you even a spider-person?”, Miguel retorted, stepping closer to you as an act of intimidation, but it didn’t affect you much. You held your ground while he walked forward until he stood right in front of you, looking down as if you were merely a pest.

“I still do my job, don’t I? You’re stressing out over nothing, and you don’t have to be breathing down my neck all the time if you’d just let me do my own thing. The multiverse is still safe Miguelito, lighten up!”

“Stop fucking calling me that! God, you annoy the shit out of me I can’t stand you.”

“I’m aware of that, you remind me every day!”, you countered defiantly, and Miguel was on the brink of losing his last nerve.

“Coño, for once, will you just shut the fuck up!”, he yelled now, reaching an arm out to wrap his hand around your throat, holding you in place instinctively as you gasped.

He wasn’t choking you, his fingers not daring to tighten around your neck but acting as a placeholder. He bent down the slightest bit, whispering in your ear with a tone of voice that was borderline threatening.

“You’re a pain in my ass, an ungrateful brat, and I don’t know if you get on my nerves on purpose, but you’re going to learn to stop fucking with me like a plaything. ¿Entiendes?”, Miguel snarled, his lips grazing the outer shell of your ear. This you weren’t expecting, your mind short-circuiting as your breath hitched at his words.

Miguel pulled away, his hands still around your neck while he stared down at you. He was taking in your reaction, watching how your breathing increased, your eyes were filled with a curiosity he hadn’t seen from you, and he could practically feel your pulse pounding against his thumb that pressed into your skin.

He was trying to figure out the sudden change in your demeanor, half expecting you to say some sassy remark back to him, but nothing came out of your mouth. If anything, you seemed to like this.

“Ah, so that’s what it is? You’re a brat on purpose?”, he smirked then, finding your sudden silence amusing. “You think you’re hot shit, acting all defiant around me when in reality, you need to be put in your place.”

Your cheeks blushed, both confused and aroused at the sudden change in the dynamic between you two. Have you thought about Miguel like this? Sure, once or twice. But the big scary Spider-Man was a tough nut to crack, so instead, you compromised for teasing. There was no way he would act out on those very sudden desires, right? Right?

Oh how wrong you were.

“You put up a show all the time when you just want some attention. Ain’t that right, muñeca?”, Miguel said, leaning his face closer to yours so the tips of your noses barely touched. He was teasing you, playing with the idea of giving you something you didn’t even know you would crave. His grip tightened around your neck the slightest bit, bringing your attention back to him when he spoke again, “I asked you a question, answer me.”

“Y-Yes”, you stuttered, the neurons in your brain working just enough to formulate one word. At this rate, you could feel your body warming up with how Miguel spoke to you. It felt taboo to be in this situation right now, but some part of you wanted to indulge in this small fantasy.

“Hmmm, maybe I’ll remind you where you belong so you can stop acting out. You want that?”, Miguel’s voice was playful now, noticing how your blush intensified the closer he leaned down. One of his hands reached for your hip, bringing you closer to him while the other stayed on your neck, your jaw tilting up towards him. It was an invitation, a calling for a kiss, or whatever else he may have in mind.

“Fuck, yes”, you found yourself saying a bit too quickly, your brain telling you to just shut up and listen to him for once, to relieve whatever tension the both of you have developed for so long. Miguel took one last look into your eyes before he closed the distance between you two, his mouth meeting yours with force.

Your lips meddled together in a flurry of need, a mess of tongue and teeth as you both forgone all sense of professionalism. These weren’t the lovely, soft kisses one would expect from someone they’d been pining after. They were possessive and dominating. Miguel’s grip on your hip tightened, pinning you to his body as you stood chest to chest. He practically loomed over you, needing to crane your neck up to kiss him properly. You moaned when his tongue slipped between your lips, grazing the roof of your mouth and curling around your own. The hand wrapped around your neck slipped from its grasp to cradle your jaw, stroking your cheek in a way that opposed the harsh kisses he gave you.

When Miguel pulled away for a breath, your face was slightly flushed with plush lips to match. His thumb caressed your bottom lip, pressing into it and looking at you with newfound desire. He sighed when your lips closed around it, sucking it into your mouth gently and tracing the bottom of his digit with your soft tongue.

“You just need something in your mouth to be good right?”, he smirked, pressing the pad of his thumb on the middle of your tongue as you hummed against him with a nod. The red in his eyes darkened, watching you stare at him in desire. Miguel chuckled, taking his thumb out of your mouth and stepping away from you slightly with a toothy grin on his face.

“Let’s see if you can do more with your mouth than just piss me off”, he grunted, his voice dropping an octave as he pushed you down to your knees in front of him. If you thought Miguel looked big before, he looked much larger in comparison now, the shadow of his body swallowing you whole.

You looked up at him needily, your attention diverting to the bulge hidden underneath his spider suit. Mouth watering at the sight, your eyes widened when part of his suit disappeared in pixelated bits, his hard cock bouncing towards your cheek. An unintentional gasp slipped out of you, biting your bottom lip and rubbing your thighs together as your lower gut bubbled in warmth. Now you know why Miguel acted the way he did, why he was so hard to handle at times. His words and size matched the rest of him, big and intense all around.

“Don’t be scared of it”, you heard Miguel say mockingly, bringing you out of your admiring trance. You could tell despite his dominating demeanor, he wanted to be touched, his cock almost pulsing in front of you.

“Who said I was scared?”, you taunted back, grinning when you saw the same annoyed look Miguel does that seemed reserved for just you.

“You want to prove me wrong? Go ahead then”, his hand went to your hair, grabbing it in his fist as he felt you caressing his tip in light kisses. He sighed when your lips moved under the base of his shaft, kissing the prominent veins that pulsated against your warm mouth. It took everything in him not to thrust into your face, but he knew what you were doing, playing with him even when he was the one in control.

Your breath hitched again when your head was yanked back, ogling him as you saw how pent up he was, how badly he wanted you.

“Don’t fucking tease me. Now open wide baby”, he muttered, putting both of his hands on your head to get any flyaway hairs out of your face. He wanted to burn this picture into his memory, taking in the view of you having his dick down your throat for the first time.

Slowly, your lips wrapped around his member, encasing him in your hot mouth as you relaxed your jaw to take more of him. You didn’t know if you would be able to take all of him at once, but you sure as hell were gonna try. Breathing in through your nose, you moved further down, feeling more of him resting against your tongue before deciding that was enough for now.

With a gentle tug of your hair, you pulled back, moving your head over him while one of your hands went to his thighs for support. Your other hand held him at the base, jerking the rest of his cock that couldn’t fit. He groaned shamelessly, letting you have a small bit of control as your tongue traced over the underside of his length. It felt good, better than he imagined, and he couldn’t help but close his eyes to immerse himself in the pleasure.

You hollowed your cheeks out, bobbing your head harder while taking more of him into your mouth. Tasting the saltiness of his precum against your tongue, you moaned around him, his fingers tightening around your head as you kept working over him, not caring for the slight tingling in your jaw.

“Knew you were good at this”, Miguel mumbled, his fangs digging into his bottom lip as he watched you. You looked almost precious to him, your hand growing slick with saliva along with the rest of him, your lips pinker than usual. He couldn’t help himself, grabbing the top of your head and thrusting towards your face.

You choked a bit at the action, the sudden intrusion forcing him all the way down the base of your throat until he pulled his hips back. He did it again, pushing your face against his pelvis until your nose rubbed into the soft brown curls against his skin.

“See how pretty you look when your mouth is shut? Just get your throat fucked like the slut you are, taking me so well”, he lost himself to the sensation of you deep-throating him, struggling to take all of him at once. But you tried, your hands on the top of his thighs as you happily let him fuck your face.

Tears started to gather on your lash line the more forceful Miguel got, an audible gagging sound filling the room every time he plunged deeper into you. Spit was coating your chin and cheek, his balls hitting your face with every drive of his hips. Blowing someone wasn’t new to you, but the way Miguel used you to get off intensified the burning heat in your gut. Hearing the sounds he made, feeling how he throbbed and twitched in your mouth, how his thighs slightly shook the closer he got to his climax. It was arousing seeing him like this, and you enjoyed it like it were your favorite movie.

“I want to cum down your throat, you gonna let me?”, Miguel asked, sweat starting to build up on his hairline as he looked down at you. Your eyes were hazy, pupils dilated and almost lost as they met his. He could feel your harsh breathing against him, the drool pooling in your mouth, and the vibration of a pleasurable hum as you answered him with enthusiasm.

“Mierda, swallow it all for me, I don’t want you to waste a drop”, he said hastily, thrusting up into you a few more times before he shuddered with a loud grunt. Miguel’s hips stayed flush with your face, tears dropping down your cheek as you choked around him and felt him cum down your throat. You clutched his thighs, breathing shakily and trying to remain calm to the best of your ability. He felt you constricting around him, taking everything he had to give while his fingers dug into your scalp.

With ease, Miguel pulled his hips back, watching you catch your breath. You moved your head up, opening your mouth to show him how you followed his directions, no traces of his release left behind. Not a single drop was wasted. For the first time since you’ve been in the same room with him, there was a smile on his face.

“I should give you a treat for being so good to me just now”, Miguel purred at you, bringing you back onto your feet and kissing you deeply. He could taste himself against your tongue, groaning into your mouth as he chased the flavor of his release. You clung to him, gasping when you felt a claw on your back tearing at your spider suit as he slipped it down your body, leaving you bare before him.

“Fucking hell Miguel”, you whined against him, the brisk air of his lab making your nipples hard, biting your lip when a rough thumb caressed a perked nub. He was handsy and impatient, lifting you up by the bottom of your thighs and bringing you to a spare desk on the other side of the room. You sat on the cool surface, legs instantly parting for Miguel as his hips pressed against yours.

With hungry lips, they wrapped around your other nipple, sucking lavishly and humming around it as his hands explored over you. His other free hand trailed down your stomach, gracing your bare hip and reaching towards your warmth. Your hands went to his brown hair, running through the strands and arching towards his touch as a thick, calloused thumb ran circles on your clit.

“You always get this wet when you have dick down your throat?”, he chuckled, releasing your nipple to kiss your neck, nipping the soft skin while he continued his rubbing. You couldn’t even answer him, throwing your head back to grant him more skin to touch and crying out when two of Miguel’s fingers slipped inside you.

The soft squelching that filled the room was almost embarrassing, feeling your arousal drip onto his skin with every plunge of his digits. You were already so wet and pent up from the earlier usage of your throat for Miguel’s pleasure, sending you that much closer to the edge. With a flick of his wrist, his fingers curled into the soft spot inside you, your thighs twitching under him and pulling another whimper out of you.

“Please, fuck please”, you gripped onto his bicep, grinding your hips against his hand to chase your own pleasure. Miguel’s sharp eyes observed you, watching every stutter you gave him and how your eyebrows creased the closer you got to your climax. He was mesmerized by your soaked heat, knuckles deep into you and hitting every sensitive spot he could find.

“So needy, fucking into my hand like a whore. You want to cum on my fingers muñeca?”, he said against your ear, biting on the lobe as you shook underneath him and weakly nodded. His thumb came back into the mix, rubbing fast circles on your clit that made you keen. You were dripping down his wrist, your hot walls fluttering around him and your nails leaving indents in his biceps from where you held on to him.

“Cum for me so I can fill your pussy up just right”

It didn’t take long for you to reach your peak, closing your eyes and mewling out Miguel’s name in the crook of his neck. He groaned at how tight you got, sucking his digits deeper into your body as you flexed around him with trembling legs. He didn’t stop moving his hand against you, making sure to milk your orgasm as much as he could. With a soft kiss to your lips, he pulled his touch away from your center, marveling at how your fluids glistened in the dim light of his lab. Staring at you lustfully, he slipped his fingers into his mouth, savoring your taste with a lewd sigh.

“I’ll get a better taste of you later, but for now let me fuck that defiant attitude out of you”, Miguel said, his hands going to your thighs and lifting them up. He put one of your legs on his shoulder, bending down closer to you as your back was resting on top of the desk. You could feel how hard he was for you again, grinding his length against your wetness, his tip bumping into your clit deliciously every time.

“Just fuck me, please Miguel”, you begged, clenching around nothing and feeling how badly you needed to be filled with something. You expected some sly comment from him, but he surprised you, positioning himself above your entrance and pushing forward.

“You’re so fucking tight. No wonder why you act the way you do”, he hissed at the way you throbbed around him. He didn’t stop moving until his body was flush with yours, reaching the deepest parts inside you and stretching you so deliciously you whined. It would be an exaggeration to say you felt him in your chest, but you swear you could.

A choked moan left your throat when he pulled his hips back to pound into you again, setting a rough pace from the start. The smell of sex started to fill the lab, Miguel’s face digging into your neck and biting the skin as he huffed under his breath. He leaned forward towards your body, your leg that he had on his shoulder bending towards your chest, making him slip deeper into you. You yelped at the action and fucked back into him, your hips meeting his with an audible slap.

Miguel was unrelenting, his hands digging into the plush skin of your thighs and hips as he looked down at where your bodies met. His pelvis rubbed into your clit with every stroke, tilting his hips the slightest bit to hit your g-spot every time he plowed into you. The annoyance he once felt towards you evaporated from his mind, now only focused on screwing you into the desk. It was a lot, he was a lot, but all you could do was be good and take what he gave you with no complaints, holding on to the edge of the desk so tightly your knuckles turned white. He was also silently thankful his lab was farther away from everything else, his ears taking in every delectable sound that came from your bruised lips unabashedly.

“You’re so loud. Do you want the entire HQ to hear how much of a slut you are? Letting your boss fuck you like this for being a brat”, he teased in your ear, feeling you clench around him as he increased the intensity of his thrusts against you. You liked the mix of his degrading and praise, common sense so far gone from your current mind that it left you stuck on cloud 9.

The sneaky hand on your hip moved down your body again, rubbing the pulsing nub as you rambled incoherently against him. He could feel you getting close, doing everything in his power to ruin you for any other person, if that were even an option. You didn’t have it in you to warn him of your impending release, your thighs shaking against his body. But he already knew, slamming harder into you to the point where the desk underneath you screeched against the floor. He was getting close too, his eyes trailing down your body and seeing the white ring at the base of his cock.

“You’re so close baby. Need you to cum around me so I can fill you up, let everyone know who’s fucking you so good”, Miguel grunted against your ear again, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders and clinging to his body. Your nails dug into his back, scratching down the firm planes of muscle and leaving angry red streaks in their wake. He shuddered at the touch, growling into your skin and biting at your shoulder.

Head thrown back in ecstasy, the tension in your gut snapped as you spasmed and wailed under him, the pleasure overwhelming you the second time around. Miguel held on to your hips to keep you from jerking against him, whispering praises into your ear and telling you how good you were, how good you felt squeezing around him. His pace grew sloppy, pumping into you a few more times before his release hit with a guttural moan. Cursing in Spanish under his breath he came inside you, filling you to the hilt with some of his seed spilling out of you.

The both of you panted against one another, Miguel’s body slowly relaxing as he placed one final kiss against the new marks he left on your neck. He lifted his head back to look at you, your eyes half-lidded and face flushed as you caught your breath. Your heart was going a mile a minute, knowing your body would feel sore, but you felt satisfied beyond measure. With a hiss and much protest, Miguel pulled his softening length out of you, watching his cum slip out of your slit and run down your thigh.

“You okay?”, he asked, his voice no longer laced with anger or irritation. You nodded, licking your lips as you tried to find words for him, but your mind was still fogged with the high you just experienced.

“You should listen to me more often you know. I don’t want you causing any more trouble”, Miguel told you, voice softer than usual as he caressed the soft skin of your quivering thigh.

“And what’s the fun in that if this happens when I piss you off?”, you told him, a dopey grin on your face as your eyes met his. The same mischievous glint he always found was there again, something he initially hated now being something he wanted to see more often.

“Then I’ll hold you to it. Don’t be surprised if I put you in your place again”

“I’m looking forward to it, Miguelito”

He found himself chuckling at that, the nickname that made the hairs at the back of his neck rise in aggravation now felt like a blanket of comfort. He knew down the line this wasn’t the end of your antics, that you would continue to get on his nerves. Only this time, he found a way to get something out of it.

Maybe just maybe, having you around wasn’t so bad after all.

©️ ovaryacted 2023

#miguel o’hara #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #atsv miguel #miguel spiderman #miguel x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara smut #spider man: across the spider verse #atsv smut #atsv x you #spiderman 2099 #itsv #ovaryacted fics

1K notes · View notes

ghost-with-a-teacup · 11 months

Note

Hiii LOVE your fic 🫶🏻! I was wondering if you could write a fic where everything that happens in the chase scene, happens to fem!reader but Miguel actually catches up to her & kinda knocks her down. He begs her not to do this, to stay down. As she gets up she asks him if any of it was real, he says it was and still is. He tells her that he thought that if he pursue her romantically then she would accept her dad's fate & wouldn't go against him (of course it doesn't work) she says she can't do that & escapes. He loses it a little & starts destroying everything & makes it everybody's mission to find her

Just pure angst 😭 I'm sorry if this is a lot

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Summary: You finally understand the true purpose of the Spider Society; protecting the canon, protecting the multiverse even at the cost of all the Spiders' suffering. But you were going to stop at nothing to find your way home, though Miguel isn't keen on letting you go.

Warnings: Angsty, Miguel gets angry.

“Miguel…what are you doing,” you ask softly, still not wanting to believe what you were seeing. All around you, members of the Society began closing in, caging you in an inescapable circle.

You didn’t want to accept it. That all these people, the ones you have grown to call family would turn their back on you in the blink of an eye. Or rather an order from their leader.

“I can’t let you leave, mi vida,” he says, eyes apologetic but unrelenting.

“What is the purpose of this place, the true purpose of this place Miguel,” you ask, your voice hardening. You had always believed when Miguel first recruited you it was to act as Spider-Man across the multiverse, no longer limited to your own hometown. But it seems there was some other agenda you were made unaware of.

He hesitates for a moment before exhaling lowly, eyes boring into yours.

“The Spider Society…was created to protect the canon of the multiverse. To ensure that in each world the events progress as they should,” he explains as the world disappears around everyone, replaced with holograms of a complex web.

“I don’t understand, what does that have to do with me saving my father?” you ask, and he winces.

You were never supposed to see the hologram and the message that followed it, you realize now. But you had snuck into the monitoring room, carrying a lunch of all of Miguel’s favourite foods when you saw it.

A hologram of your father going about his day, the message ‘Canon Event Detected. Time: 2 Days’ followed by the words ‘Soon to be Deceased’.

You thought it was some sick joke, some prank a cruel spider thought to play on you. But when you asked Miguel about it he refused to make eye contact with you, and that’s when the intervention began.

“Your father dying, is a canon event,” he says. “Just like how every person in this room undergoes their own canon events, their own version of loss. It's what ties every person in this room together in the web that makes up the Arachno-Humanoid Polymultiverse,” he explains, and you only grow more confused as he acted like that explanation justified any of this.

“So you’re saying you know that some of the most important people in every Spider’s life will die, and you just let it happen?” you ask, in disbelief at the blatant cruelty.

“It must happen, to ensure that life continues. That it doesn’t disintegrate into nothing…like how my universe disappeared.”

You only shake your head, taking a step back as your breath becomes slightly unsteady.

“You’re saying that our job here is to make everyone suffer, because of something that you fucked up a long time ago?!” you say, and his eyes narrow at you. It was harsh, but it was true. Perhaps the cumulation of disordered events could destroy a universe, but there was no way of proving that slight changes would hurt anything.

Scientific fact arises through countless hours of testing and experimentation. One result that happened one time shouldn’t dictate what the conclusion will be.

“You can’t tell me not to save my father, Miguel! I can’t just let him die if I can do something about it,” he says, and a look of pity washes over his face as he walks closer to you, but you take a step back.

“All this happens for a reason, these canon events allow us to become who we are, even if it hurts,” he says gently. And even though you hate to say it, it soothes you. His voice always has.

So much so, that you let down your guard for a single moment. Allowing him to come close and slip the watch right off of your wrist.

“No!” you say, trying to take it from his grasp but he was too fast. “How am I supposed to go home?”

“You won’t,” he says in turn.

“I’m sorry,” a voice cuts in from behind you. Jess, with a sympathetic look in her eyes. “I know it's hard, but it's for the greater good.” Looking around, you see all your closest friends surround you, but against you.

“Even you, Peter?” you ask softly, and he only glances away with guilt.

“2 days? That’s plenty of enough time, I’ll get home one way or another,” you say, glaring at Miguel.

“I can’t let you do that,” he says before he tosses a trap right at your feet. Before it can work, you use your telekinesis to throw it back, trapping him instead.

“STOP! ENOUGH OF THIS!” Miguel shouts. It was the first time in your life you had ever heard him shout, and frankly, it scared you as you watch him try to claw his way out.

Everyone immediately starts to move in on you, but you throw your arms out casting a force field that throws everyone back.

Leaving an opening for escape.

Running from hundreds of different spiders all on the hunt for you was not easy. It doesn’t make you feel very superhuman when all that are chasing after you were also superhuman, and quite frankly you were exhausted.

Not only physically, but mentally as well. The whole situation was taking a toll on you even if you were trying to shove it to the back of your head.

Luckily everything served as a pretty good distraction for the pain your heart was in.

“You can’t keep running,” Jess says as you leap from car to car on the freeway, tailing behind you on her motorcycle.

“What choice do I have?” you say, though your voice cracks. You see her determined expression falter. You and she grew close soon after you joined the Society, she was truly one of your best friends.

But best friends don’t keep things from each other, especially things as important as the supposed ‘cause’ you were all working for.

You notice her hesitancy, and that’s when you strike. Kicking her off her bike, you pin her to a car with your webs as you snatch the watch from her wrist.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” she says, looking up at where you hung from the vehicle, sadness in her eyes.

“You already did,” you say before swinging away.

You were very quickly running out of options for escape. Even with the watch, you couldn’t find an opening to program the watch for home.

As a last resort you latched onto the roof of the high-speed bullet train of Nueva York headed toward the skies, hoping that the force of gravity paired with the speed would at least stall some of the spiders off of your trail.

But before you could realize it, Miguel was very quickly on your tail until finally, he grabbed ahold of you, slamming you down into the roof as you yelped out in pain.

“STOP THIS!” he shouts, straight into your face. He doesn’t even take his mask off as he does, making the whole situation seem even more impersonal. You could only scoff in his face before the hurt overwhelmed you, and you spoke before you could stop yourself.

“Was any of it even real?” you ask softly, tears welling in your eyes as you do. Miguel looks taken back for a moment, eyes widened in surprise as his grasp falters for a second.

“What?” he asks.

“Was any of it real?!” you say louder this time. “Those times when you held me in your arms as I cried, the times when you kissed me in the kitchen as we made dinner together, or when we danced in the living room at night. When you said ‘I love you’ for the first time, was any of it even real?” You say as you feel the anger rise.

“Or was it just some kind of sick way of keeping me under your thumb because I’m the 'original anomaly’, to keep me from going against the canon and your sick agenda that you force everyone else to suffer?” you say, your voice loud now as you struggle harder against his grasp.

“It was real...in the end,” he admits, and you feel your expression drop. You wished that this was all some horrible nightmare, that you would wake up and this would just be in your head and he would hold you like he always did.

But deep down you always knew.

Knew that you loved him more than he did you, that this relationship was built on a lie. But you ignored it for the sake of your fragile heart, and here it is getting shattered all over again by the one person in this life you thought you could trust.

“We’re done, Miguel,” you say, resigned at last.

“Huh?” he says, as though he couldn’t believe your words even after everything you had been through.

“I said we’re done,” you say before you kick him straight in his stomach, launching him off of you so that he has to claw his way back onto the roof.

“Goodbye, Miguel,” you say, before you take a leap backwards, flying through the sky for a few moments until you open up a portal back home.

Miguel shouts in frustration as he marches back into the monitoring room, rage radiating off of his form in waves.

In his anger he shoves everything in his path out of the way, talons scratching into the walls as the rest of the Society surrounds him, awaiting his next orders.

Finally, he manages to calm down enough to utter out a single phrase.

“Find her, for the canon…for the multiverse,” Miguel says as guilt creeps in like vines around his heart at his lost love.

Taglist: @beiroviski, @scaraza, @blueoorchid, @remuslupinwifee, @local-mr-frog, @johfaam0, @rawegggohan, @honeycriess, @alexenoirex, @chimpkinnuggies, @rqdior, @banana—belle, @notasadgirlipromise, @6billionyearsold, @gods-perfectidiot, @ieatmunson, @honeii-puff, @wh0re4zaynmalik, @toplinehyunjin, @ohworm-writes, @ishii03, @snowywhiterose

A/N: Could you believe I was going to post fluff today? Crazy how life gets in the way sometimes, but hey, managed to get this fic out lol. Sorry, I know I'm the fluff writer and all but angst just hits sometime :3

#miguel o hara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #spiderman 2099 x reader

1K notes · View notes

astroboots · 11 months

Text

Every You Every Me | Issue #7

COLLABORATED WITH @thirstworldproblemss

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You finally get some answers out of Miguel about who you are to him.

Word count: 5,700 words.

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss' Masterlist

[Previous] [Next]

"So let's take it from the top," you tell him, as you sit down and put down the Trenta-sized caramel flavored hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and chocolate syrup in front of the man named Miguel O'Hara.

The two of you are sitting across from each other at a small booth at the nearest Starbucks you were able to find, seeing as you're homeless now, and there's nowhere else you could think of to go.

He's dressed in a large fitted hoodie that drapes down to his thighs. Where he's managed to find something that is oversized in length on him, you don't know because he's not exactly short.

"I'm from a dimension known as Earth-928," Miguel says.

Before he can continue, you raise one hand, and you can see his right eyebrow twitch unhappily at the interruption.

"Yes?"

"Just to clarify, so we don't have another ‘coffee cake’ misunderstanding. When you say Earth-928, do you mean a different version of the Earth we’re on now? Or is this a habitable planet in another galaxy that happens to be partially named Earth?"

"It's a parallel universe characterized by distinct physical parameters and initial conditions, accounting for the diverse manifestations of our observable universe. So still Earth," he says, sweeping his gaze across the café, nose wrinkling the way one does when there's something off-putting in their vicinity. "Just a little bit less primitive."

Of course he would say that, wouldn't be able to resist the jab would he.

You peer up at him across the table. He is very technical and thorough with his explanations. But as grateful as you are for him finally being willing to answer your questions, you hadn't expected those answers to be quite so information dense. You need to pick your questions more carefully or you are going to have to go down the street to buy yourself a notebook in order to keep up.

"How did you end up on this Earth?" you ask.

"Where I'm from, I'm a scientist, a researcher. One of the things I studied was the theory of physical cosmology and the existence of the multiverse. My work was concentrated on the theoretical ability to navigate between distinct universes within a hypothetical multiverse–”

Ah shit, you should've been more narrow in your question. Should have asked him to simplify it a bit more for you. Because now you're sitting here blinking up at him, pretending you understand half of what he's saying.

It makes sense that he’s STEM. He speaks like the type. Smart as hell with none of the social skills to gauge whether the other person is following the conversation.

Listening to him reminds you of that time in college, when you'd walked into the wrong lecture hall, wound up in advanced chemistry instead of your math class, felt too awkward to leave and just sat there drawing doodles with an attentive expression until the class was over.

And he’s still at it, “– employing advanced mechanisms that manipulate or transcend conventional spacetime frameworks, enabling exploration–"

"Okay, wait, hold on a sec," you interrupt, once it becomes obvious he’s not going to stop any time soon on his own. "Can you... simplify, please?"

He stops mid-sentence, taking a deep breath as he looks up at the ceiling and considers your request, with a serious expression as if he's thinking really hard on it. "I’m a scientist. I study the multiverse. I built a parallel universe traversal device, it allows me to visit different dimensions." Your brain feels insulted that it clearly took more mental effort for him to dumb it down for you than to just give the supergenius version.

“So… a machine that allows you to jump between alternative universes?”

“Yes.”

There’s a pause between you as you run through the questions in your mental list you want to tick off now that he’s turned cooperative and talkative. But with everything that’s happened in the last handful of hours, a lot of the questions you previously had seemed outdated. The one question, the most important one, you’ve wanted to ask from the start though remains.

"Who am I to you?"

Miguel takes the large sized drink in his even larger hands and somehow this big paper cup still manages to look tiny in his grip. "You and I were... involved," he says.

You frown. ‘Involved’ is such a vague term. It belongs in the trash with other useless terms to describe relationships: “situationship”, “complicated”, you hate them all.

"So I was your girlfriend?"

"Yeah, something like that," he concede, fidgeting with the thin gold chain looped around his neck, his eyes not quite meeting yours, like he's embarrassed to use the term.

‘Something like that,’ you chew on his answer unhappily, sympathizing with your other dimensional self and how the other you seemed to have snagged a commitment phobe.

Other-you, who isn’t here in this dimension with Miguel. You wonder why that is.

"What happened to me?" you ask.

His eyes are glued to the table, not looking up at you as he answers you in a voice so quiet you can barely hear it. "She died."

"Oh."

The revelation shouldn’t take you by surprise.

Every time Miguel’s brought up your other self, it’s been tinted with earth-shattering sadness. It's not hard to put one and one together and come to the conclusion that whatever happened to you in this other dimension didn't end happily.

Still it's an odd feeling to know that out there, somewhere, a version of you has died. A version of you that was clearly very important to the man in front of you.

"I'm sorry," you tell him.

It feels silly to say. It's bizarre to give your condolences over your own parallel death, but Miguel looks so heartbroken. He’s slumped in his seat, large shoulders rounded until his frame looks so much smaller than you're used to, and you don't know what else to do.

"So what is happening to me now," you start, not sure how to word what the phenomena that you're going through is, "these continuous near-death experiences, is that how she died?"

"Yeah."

"And do you know why that... kept happening to her? Why is it happening to me?"

"I don't, and I don't know how to stop it. Believe me I tried."

He cradles the paper cup in his hands, the grip a little bit tighter now until he's creasing the paper and the caramel liquid oozes and leaks from the top.

"What I do know is that the universe isn’t going to stop trying to kill you, no matter what you do. And with every near death incident you manage to survive, these incidents will escalate in nature, until..." he stops, eyes flickering away from the cup to meet yours, but it's like he loses courage and doesn't want to say the last part.

"Until, what?" you prompt.

"Until your dimension collapses."

The blood freezes in your veins. "Wait, collapses!? What do you mean?"

"I can't guarantee it will happen again. But that's what happened last time. When the other you kept cheating death, the universe eventually started to collapse in on itself."

You slump back in your chair, trying to process what you've just been told. What does that mean? That even if you managed to defy all odds to survive, doing so would doom the rest of this universe as you know it?

"When will that happen?" you ask, and you're surprised you manage to get the words out because there is a hard lump in your throat that makes it hurt to even swallow.

"Judging from the trajectory and escalation of events, you have about three months give or take."

The two of you sit in heavy silence, for the moment you're not sure what else to ask him. Because it feels like you are trapped in a building looking for an exit sign, but all that’s tacked onto the brick wall is your death certificate, waiting to be signed and formalized.

There’s no way out. Nowhere to go.

"Give me your hand," he says, breaking the silence.

You give it to him without hesitation, watching, puzzled, as he takes off his watch and secures it around your wrists.

"Why are you giving me your watch?"

"It's not a watch," he says, then he presses something on the face of it, and an image of a young woman flickers into existence in the space above your wrist, vaguely see-through. A hologram!

"This is Lyla," he introduces.

Wait, wait? Lyla? As in your mom Lyla? You watch the tiny woman floating above your wrist. Short bob-cut, and flashy heart-shaped sunglasses, with a twinkle in her eye.

The hologram looks nothing like your mom. You part your mouth, about to ask about the name but you're interrupted by the energetic buzz of a female voice greeting you.

"Boss-girl! Long time no see. Want me to catch you up on the latest multiversal gossip? I compiled an edit of highlights set to Despacito."

"Lyla," Miguel warns, tersely. "Not now."

"Ruuuuude! You're the one who woke me up you know."

"Lyla, go back to sleep."

The female avatar grumbles, but then her image flickers away and the watch turns back into, as far as you can tell, just an ordinary watch.

"Why did you name the watch Lyla?"

"It's not a– " He cuts himself off, sighing with exasperation. "Lyla is an advanced A.I. she's going to be with you at all times. She's an added layer of security, built to protect you."

He didn't answer your question. Completely sidestepped it as if the two of you are having two different conversations.

Built to protect you, he'd said. Does that mean he still intends to do that?

"So you're not going to leave?" you ask him.

He leans back in his seat, eyes drifting towards the table. "No."

You look up at him, stumped. Not sure you're understanding what he's saying. Because not even a few hours ago, when the two of you were in your apartment, this man was adamant there was nothing to be done to save you. That he was going to leave and you were never going to see him again.

Right now though, his actions seem to be contradictory to that. You can't make heads or tails of him. Hot and cold doesn’t even begin to cover it.

"Why not?" you ask, "I mean, not that I’m not grateful, but you seemed pretty set on the whole ‘I can’t save you’ thing. What changed your mind?"

“You did.” His eyes narrow as he looks down at you, crossing his arms ever his chest, "You told me you wanted to live. Have you changed your mind already?"

“Wha– NO! I just want to know why you changed yours.”

“I–” He hesitates, another wave of sadness passing over his face. “I’m a superhero. I save people… or try to. It’s what I do. I’m not gonna just leave you to die after you tell me you want to live.”

It’s a good answer, even if you don’t buy that it’s the whole truth.

You look down at your wrist, and the shiny chrome of the not-watch he's just gifted you winks back up at you. "Do you think I have a chance of surviving all this?"

"It's pretty hopeless," he says, and there’s no break in his expression as he continues. "Your chances of making it out alive are pretty much mathematically impossible."

It's odd though. Even though he's outlining the futility of your situation, basically telling you to raise the white flag and surrender, there's something contradictory in the tone of his voice.

"What do you want to do?" he asks you.

It’s a challenge, you realize. An encouragement. He has faith in you. It's all of these things rolled into one. As if he's telling you to prove the universe wrong.

"I want to live," you answer. "If the universe collapses in three months, then please stay with me. Give me time to solve this and find a way to stay alive."

His mouth curls into a hint of a smile. The very first you've seen from him since you've met. It's bright and boyish, erasing the harsh lines of his stern expression until it gives way for something much softer underneath that makes your heart leap in your chest with triumph.

You grin, a strange elation of happiness buzzing in you as you stretch out your hand to him, in an invitation for a handshake to seal the deal.

"Deal?"

Miguel leans over the table, clasping your hand in his much larger one as he squeezes it back gently.

"Deal." That small smile from before is still there. "So what's next?" he asks.

The thing you never realized, being an ordinary person bereft of super genes or other superhuman powers is just how convenient commuting can be if you have them.

No longer do you have to brave the Lynchian nightmare that is the NYC subway system. Half-naked manic street preachers giving sermons as you’re held hostage, with nowhere else to go in the carriage. Being chased down by a drunk trumpeting Mariachi band. Instead, all you need to do to get from point A to point B (A: being the Chrysler building and B: the building formerly known as your home) is to hold on tight to Miguel as he swings you both above the city gridlock.

You imagine that this is what paragliding must feel like, except it's so much better because here you don't have to do the safety training beforehand or pay $3,000 for the privilege.

The city skyline is a dark evening blue, dotted with the sparkling lights of office buildings, cab roof lights and street lamps, as the wind ruffles through the fabric of your clothes.

It's such a different sight when you're flying above instead of walking on the streets below, that you don't even clock that you're in your neighborhood, until you see a building with a collapsed wall that's been blocked off, looking like a crash site. Only then do you realize... you're home.

Miguel carefully sets you down on your feet on a small patch of concrete that is clear of the rubble and destruction.

"Why did you want to come back here again?" he asks.

It’s a good question. Now that you're here, standing in the middle of charred debris and cracked bricks, you're not sure either. You had some vague plans of seeing what you could salvage, hoping for some clothes, maybe your electric toothbrush, or really just any of your stuff. Something that’s yours, no matter how small, to hold on to after the events of today have ripped away life as you know it.

But there’s nothing left. The furniture, all your books and knick knacks, and even your dirty laundry piles have been demolished. Your home as you know it is gone. There's only piles and piles of rubble and traces of white fire extinguisher foam on the ground. The fire has been out for hours, but the pungent smell of smoke and sulfur still pervades the air.

"You okay?" Miguel asks.

He's still standing at the outer edges of the apartment, close to where your window would have been if a helicopter hadn't crashed through it.

"Yeah... I guess the silver lining is that I didn't have anything expensive. Though it'd been nice if I could've saved my mom's Le Creuset set or at least the nanny-cam so I could return it and get a refund," you joke glibly.

You nudge aside some concrete rubble with the cap of your shoes. There's nothing under there, no treasured memorabilia that's still miraculously intact. Just more burnt concrete and rubble.

"Why did you have a nanny cam?"

You turn around at his question, to see him hovering close to you, one eyebrow raised with an unhappy set to his jaw.

From the displeased expression on his face, he's probably misunderstanding something here. Probably thinks you're operating a very unlucrative Onlyfans business, when what you've really been doing is spy on him and his nightly visits. You don't know which is worse to confess to, so you don't confess to anything.

"No reason," you say, ignoring the way his already raised eyebrow twitches with irritation at your lack of an answer.

"Come on, let's go," he says, and he waves towards you in a come hither motion like he's commanding a dog.

"Go?" you ask him. "It's past midnight. My place, as you can see, is wrecked. Go where exactly?"

Miguel shoots you a strange look. "A hotel," he says, like it's the most obvious thing, and– okay, he's not completely wrong in that assumption.

Problem is, you didn't have time to pick up your wallet or phone before your impromptu interdimensional visit. They’ve been incinerated along with all the rest of your worldly possessions, which means you don't have any way to pay for a hotel.

Plus Manhattan hotel prices average $400 a night. Even if you still had access to your debit cards, your budget’s pretty tight right now after all the capital you invested in your unhinged quest to trap the superhero before you.

"In the city? I don't have that kind of money and it will take months for any insurance payouts to come in."

You should know. As an insurance claims adjuster, you know you’ll be lucky if your claim is processed before the end of the year. And, ugh, just the thought of the paperwork you’ll have to fill out is enough to give you an anxiety migraine.

"I’ll cover the room," Miguel says casually before holding out a hand to you, "Come on, let’s go."

When Miguel said he’d cover it, you expected a reasonably-priced room at one of the Days Inn across the river or the like. Hopefully a place with no rats or bed bugs, and maybe clean bedding over a somewhat comfortable mattress for you to pass out on if you were lucky.

You didn't expect this.

Standing in front of the Midtown Four Seasons, you find yourself on sleek marble so polished you can see your own reflection. You haven't even stepped a foot inside yet and there are two old fashioned doormen, wearing immaculately fitted suits, with an even more impressive posture opening the majestic double-set doors for you as you approach.

It's swanky as hell, and you can’t help gawking like a tourist, eyes glued to the decadent carved ceilings that must be at least 30 feet tall, soaring above you. Honey-colored limestone that looks like it’s been looted from Ancient Rome.

You feel more than a little bit out of place. This is way outside of your budget. You could probably work your job for a lifetime, and not have enough disposable income to stay the night at a place like this.

"Uhm, Miguel... this place is way too–" you start, turning towards him.

But as you were busy lamenting the state of the housing market, he's already walked away from you (for such a bulky guy, he moves swiftly and silently) and as you whip your head around to find him, he's already standing in front of the receptionist.

Damned antelope legged man, would it kill him to wait up for you once in a while? You run up after him and have to tip-toe in order to see over his shoulder because the giant mammoth is blocking the check-in counter.

And wow, even the receptionist here is of a different caliber than the ones you'd find at Holiday Inn. A fashionable bob-cut with razor sharp edges, looking like a model cut out from a Vogue cover.

"Do you have a reservation, Sir?"

You half-expect him to say no, and that the two of you would have to tuck your tail between your legs and walk out of here to the backdrop of a sad trombone playing.

To your astonishment he says your name. The receptionist tip-taps away at her keyboard and then she nods and smiles gracefully at you both.

"Yes of course. After reviewing your reservation details, I am pleased to inform you that all necessary arrangements have already been made, including advance payment and verification of your identification. Your room is ready for you, we trust you will enjoy your stay."

She flashes you a pearly white smile so shiny it's almost blinding and hands you a hotel key card.

When you turn around, to your confusion Miguel is no longer next to you. How does he keep disappearing like this?

"Cielito," Miguel’s voice calls. The nickname doesn’t register at first. It doesn't even occur to you that he’s referring to you, until he barks it out a second time.

Your head darts up to see him standing by the elevator, tapping his feet impatiently as he waits for you to make it over to him.

"How did you do that?" you whisper loudly to him as you step into the elevator. "Where did you get my ID? How did you make a reservation? How did you--"

He takes your hand, mid-sentence, turning your wrist upwards and taps the watch.

"The computer systems in this universe are child's play for Lyla to manipulate. Reservations, money, ID, she can take care of all of that easily," he explains.

"She can do that?" you ask, and Miguel merely nods at you as the elevator closes behind the two of you.

You tip your head down to inspect your gifted watch. In awe of this technical marvel that would make Siri look like it’s from the stone-ages. You wonder if she can boost your credit scores. She could probably hack any wi-fi password so you'd never have to worry about data throttling again. She could get you table reservations for Libertine! The possibilities are endless!

You turn to Miguel. "Can Lyla get me Beyoncé tickets?" you ask.

He just shakes his head at you with what almost qualifies as an amused smile.

The room upstairs is massive.

It’s easily three times the size of your little studio apartment, and the ceilings are twice as tall, with a hanging glass chandelier that’s sparkling bright enough to blind you. It looks like one of those places featured in Architectural Digest.

Everything is in an art deco style, with expensive looking furniture and even more expensive art hanging on the one spare wall that isn’t covered in floor to ceiling windows. There are large shelves and a sleek looking kitchen, complete with an opulent looking velvet lounge chair of emerald green that looks like something a Roman emperor would be fed grapes on.

In this colossal space of a room, there is only one bed. One colossal, plush-mattress-topped, goose down duvet and probably 1,000,000,000 thread count sheet covered bed.

You tense up, not sure what the arrangements Miguel had in mind. Did he want the two of you to sleep in the same bed?

Miguel did pay for the room, so you’re not going to start voicing objections. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time in the short time span that you two have known each other to do that. This bed is also a lot wider than your tiny double bed, so it wouldn’t be the cramped disaster it was last night. You’d just have to make sure to use the bathroom before bed this time so he doesn’t jab your full bladder in the morning again.

Without saying anything, Miguel strides across the length of the room with impatient and determined steps. His hand reaches for the balcony doors and slides them open.

"Wait wait, where are you going?" you ask him as you run up to the middle of the room.

“I’m sleeping outside,” he says over his shoulder, and your mind boggles with that.

“Why? Isn’t it better for you to stay here?”

"This is the 62nd floor. That’s about as safe as you’re going to get. I’ll keep a lookout to make sure no more helicopters come crashing in.”

You’re not sure if he means the last part as a joke or not, but as you watch his broad back retreating as he walks away from you, a sickening sort of the deja vu twists through your chest.

I can’t save you, he’d said back in your apartment, Nothing can.

The feeling clawing at your chest feels alarmingly like panic. It screams that he’s leaving you. That he’s never coming back. That you’ll never see him again.

You’re being irrational, and you know it. You remind yourself that he wouldn’t have done this much for you only to bail in the middle of the night, but that doesn’t stop the fear that’s festering, sharp and urgent, under your skin, or the way your heart races, your whole body flashing hot and cold at the same time.

You want him to stay.

“Miguel,” you call out, and he immediately stops and turns to look back at you, one eyebrow raised in a skeptical question.

Please stay.

You open your mouth, but the words won’t come out. You can’t ask this man—this big, sarcastic, rude hulk of a man—to have a sleepover with you because you’re scared to be alone in the dark. He would laugh you out of the hotel room.

“Uhm… thank you,” you say instead, but it’s no less sincere, “For everything.”

His eyes soften, the sharp narrowness of them easing up. “It’s fine,” he mumbles, and despite the cold chill of the evening, you think you can see a faint flush blooming in his cheeks, before he quickly ducks his face from you. “I’ll be right outside if something happens.”

He turns back around and walks out, closing the patio doors with a gentle click behind him, leaving you by yourself.

It’s quiet.

You survey the empty room you’re in. Without Miguel’s large frame taking up space, it seems even bigger than it did before.

It’s a beautiful room. Something that you’re pretty sure you’ve seen in a movie set. You don’t know why you’re not as excited as you were before. This is you living your Pretty Woman moment. You should be filling up the big jacuzzi tub you saw with bubbles. Heck, maybe ask Lyla to order you a bottle of champagne from room service.

Instead, your eyes linger on the glass patio doors leading to the balcony terrace. You walk over to the bed, perching yourself down on the edge of the mattress, then flop down.

Might as well try to sleep, you think to yourself as you climb under the covers and switch off the light. The best thing you can do right now is catch yourself some rest so you’ll be alert while trying to figure out your next steps tomorrow.

3 months… That’s what Miguel told you.

That’s all the time you have left.

That means you don’t have time to waste, but you also have no idea where to start. The local library doesn’t exactly carry any resources on how to stop the universe from trying to kill you.

The Universe.

An infinite cosmos, grander than any human being can possibly comprehend. This vast space containing all the galaxies with its billions of stars and planets, where an individual being does not even register as a speck, and it wants you dead. How can you possibly fight against those odds?

You lie wide-eyed and awake staring into the dark of the room, and the feeling of dread gnaws into you.

You don’t want to be alone right now. Turning in the bed, your eyes find their way back to the blank slate of the pitched night outside the balcony doors.

You really wished he had stayed with you.

Sitting upright in the bed, you consider your options. You can lie back down. Suffer insomnia and the existential horror of knowing the universe is trying to murder you. Or you can man up, swallow down whatever tiny morsel of your pride you have left and ask Miguel to come back inside and stay with you.

Flinging the duvet from your body, you get up to walk over to the balcony. You hesitate for a moment before tapping the window pane the way you might knock on a door, giving a polite head's up before you slide the balcony patio open. But when you poke your head out, turning your head left and right, Miguel's nowhere to be found.

Okay, that’s weird. He said he’d be right outside if you needed him. You walk up to the ledge of the balcony terrace, leaning over the rail and peer down to see him dangling upside down, from the ledge of your balcony. The sight nearly makes you scream.

"Miguel!”

At you calling his name, he pulls himself up, one clawed hand gripping at the concrete wall as he climbs his way up and over to you. He makes it look easy, as if gravity does not exist for him, and it’s only a moment until he’s perched on the ledge of the balcony, facing you.

“What’s wrong?” he demands, eyes concerned, and you’re suddenly aware of how very close he is. His face mere inches from yours, your noses nearly touching.

“What’s wrong? You’re hanging upside down from the 62nd floor! What are you, a bat?!"

“Why did you come out here?” he clarifies, and his words give you pause. You try to gather your thoughts after the bizarre sight you just walked into and remember what you came out here for.

He’s still looking at you with his full and intense concentration that makes your skin prickle with warmth.

God, it’s embarrassing to ask. You feel like you’re five years old, asking your parents to turn the nightlight on, even though you know you’re a big girl now and aren’t supposed to be afraid of monsters hiding under your bed any more.

You look down on your hands, where you’re wringing them together, then back up at him, and make yourself spit it out, "Could you… maybe… stay with me tonight?"

His eyes widen at your question, but he doesn’t actually answer you and gives you no physical indication one way or the other.

"I feel safer when you're with me,” you admit.

“I am with you out here,” he counters, because of course he can’t make this easy for you.

“I can’t see you out here.”

The line of his shoulder eases, and he ducks his head down with a resigned sigh. "Fine. Get back inside, Cielito. You're going to catch a cold like this."

You shuffle back inside to your bed, watching out of the corner of your eye as he follows you inside and settles himself on the lounge sofa. He’s so tall that his feet are sticking out over the armrests, like a long-legged stork.

Hiding a smile, you climb back into bed, wrapping the bedding all around yourself.

“Good night,” you call out, and he makes a grumpy noise of acknowledgment.

Your head drops back onto the soft pillow, and you close your eyes, ready to sleep. It’s such a nice bed. The sheets are cool and soft against your skin and smell of fresh eucalyptus. The mattress is the most comfortable you ever remember resting on, firm but somehow soft at the same time. You feel like you’re sleeping on a cloud.

Moments go by, and you revel in the sumptuous bed, waiting for the best sleep of your life to claim you.

Except it doesn’t.

Somehow… you still can’t fall asleep. Is it… too soft maybe? You turn in the bed, twisting your torso to get into a position you can comfortably sink into, but something doesn’t feel right. There’s no lumpiness like at home, but that should be a good thing.

Except… despite the decadent softness of the bed. Despite the fact that the sheets probably have a thread count with more zeros than your checking and savings accounts combined. Despite all of the luxury that surrounds you, you still find yourself tossing and turning and wide fucking awake.

The bed is too big. You don’t know what to do with all this space. Your body is not accustomed to this sort of decadence. What if you suffocate sinking into this soft fluffy pillow in your sleep? What if you toss and turn until you fall off this massive bed and break your neck? Maybe that’s how out of all of the universe’s attempts to kill you, you end up dying?

Fuck!

You can’t sleep.

You turn to your side and stare into the velvet lounge chaise on the opposite side of your room, where Miguel is.

Quietly, you pad up to his still form until you’re standing in front of him and hunch over, trying to decide how rude it would be to wake him up again when there's nothing he can do about your stupid insomnia anyway.

In the dim light, you spot something glinting at you. Looking closer, you notice that the thin chain looped around his neck has escaped his shirt to pool on the fabric of the sofa cushion under him. You gently drag the loose end of the necklace toward you, and find a smooth golden band threaded onto it.

Picking it up cautiously, you flip it in your hand and find that there's something engraved on the inside. It's hard to see in the darkness, but when you lean closer and squint your eyes, you can just make out what it says.

'MO'—undeniably the initials of one Miguel O'Hara.

Twisting the ring slightly, you find a tiny plus sign followed by your own initials, and your heart drops into the pit of your stomach.

Oh.

The memory of sitting across Miguel at Starbucks returns to you, when you had asked him who you were to him. You think of the avoidant gaze and how he couldn't look you in the eye.

‘Something like that,’ huh?

Guess the other you wasn't just his girlfriend after all, you think, chest drawn so tight it’s painful.

Holding the wedding band in the palm of your hand, you slide down to sit down on the floor with your back pressed against the chaise lounge.

Your heart aches for the man in front of you and everything he's lost. You really, really hope you're not going to end up as just another regret on his list.

~ Next Issue

Dedication & Credits: As always to my best friend @thirstworldproblemss I am half asleep and running on fumes. I'm wording things poorly but I just want you to know that I am very happy I have you. Thank you for being my friend and for the time we get to spend together. I have the most fun when I'm with you.

Also to @guruan who is my muse, my source of inspiration. This chapter is dedicated to her because have you seen this beautiful piece of artwork she did for EYEM?!

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderverse #oscar isaac #across the spiderverse #marvel #spiderverse fanfiction #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x you #marvel mcu

1K notes · View notes

lazyjellyfish300 · 4 months

Text

Love Across Dimensions spicy part 2

Miguel O'Hara x AFAB Reader s/o

Gif credits to @miguelo-hara

Part 1 , Long Distance NSFW blurb

Synopsis: You're from a different dimension than him. You didn't ask to fall in love with the protector of the multiverse, and it sure as hell isn't easy being in a long distance relationship with him. This whole thing is you two being needy ASF for each other. 😏🔥 Outline/headcanon ish format. Word count: 2.3k

TW: MINORS DNI, SMUT(PHONE SEX, MASTURBATING, CONSENSUAL VOYEURISM, FINGERING, P IN V, SPANKING, HICKEYS, DADDY KINK, USE OF SEX TOYS(VIBRATOR)LITTLE DEGRADATION,ORAL F RECEIVING, SLIGHT YANDERE IN ONE STATEMENT TOWARDS THE END, RELATIONSHIP DIFFICULTY.

---------

(red is you, black is him)

Are you finally gonna let me talk?

I don't know. Are you finally going to keep the promises you make to me?

Stop it. You know when I get an alert that means I need to go, babe. I didn't break it because I wanted to.

I'm just so sick of this, Miguel. You always feel like you have to save everything and everyone. You don't need to be the hero all the time. You have Jess, Peter, Ben..lots of people who are perfectly capable of handling things for you while you're gone.

I have a job to do, it's as simple as that.

And you also have someone right here who loves you and instead of us finally seeing each other after 3 months apart for my birthday, which, by the way was supposed to be an entire weekend but I compromised and canceled the Airbnb & settled for just seeing you for a couple hours and dinner at home and instead, I'm once again up all goddamn night waiting for you and worried about whether my boyfriend is going to actually be alive the next fucking day.

Let me make it up to you.

That's what you said last time.

I mean it this time.

Anyway it's 4 am and I need to be up in literally an hour. Goodnight.

Baby...wait.

*Click*

You hang up and throw your phone on the edge of your bed and sink back under the covers, shuddering as you let your tears of frustration soak your pillowcase.

You doze off for several moments and jolt awake when you hear that familiar zapping sound of an orange portal.

Miguel walks through, eyes a fiery Vermillion fuming under a furrowed brow. "Don't hang up on me again."

You're secretly floating on the inside but you sit up, crossing your arms, holding your ground. He's not going to get off so easily this time.

"What are you doing here?"

"Not happy to see me?" His brow raises.

"No." You scoff, but the corners of your mouth start to give you away.

"Don't be like that..." Miguel croons, honey lacing his tone. He knew he could crack you easier than a chestnut.

"I'm not in the..... mood." Your voice gets quiet at the last word and your chest heaves when his suit deactivates, leaving him bare in front of you.

"Don't look away from me." He says quietly, taking your face in his hands, slipping under the covers with you, gasping at the feeling of his warm thigh touching your hip.

"I have work this morning..." You start to protest.

"Mmm? Well you can't work a full shift on only an hour of sleep." Miguel says, peppering your cheeks with kisses.

His minty breath and slight musk coming off his skin is completely throwing you off guard.

"I...mph...I started my period, today, actually...." Your face relaxes and you finally let out a soft moan of surrender as Miguel reclines you back, focusing on the outline of his broad shoulders rippling as he lays himself carefully on top of you.

He pauses for a moment, then the corner of his mouth twitches. "Do you have a clean towel?"

Needless to say, Miguel got his red wings that night.

- Sometimes he keeps a pair of your panties, putting it in his luggage before he leaves. He used to just rip them off you with his talons. But, one time after you two had sex, you used the bathroom and walked back in on him pressing the lace thong to his nose.

You smirked, "Why not just take it with you? And, you won't have to replace another pair."

He loved the idea and started doing it from then on. Saving his wallet and your sanity.

-The "I've missed you" sex is something else. When he can only visit for a few hours it's desperate, rough fucking. The kind of sex where as he's tearing your clothes off, he's telling you,

"Don't have very long baby, sorry if I'm a little rough....." He nips your bottom lip with his teeth tweaking the buds of your breasts in his fingers.

"¿Te parece bien?" (Is that okay with you?)

Fuck yes it is.

The kind where it feels like this fuck session is going to be his last, the way he's moaning, taking the Lord's name in vain over and over while simultaneously praising Him for the soft gift of your body underneath him.

The kind where you're bent over the arm of your couch, taking his cock all at once, over, and over, a battering ram against your cervix. Your eyes are watering, begging for a time out, so he'll pause and relieve your pussy from behind with his tongue, the globes of your ass nearly suffocating his face as he buries himself in between them, starting with your clit and pussy at the bottom then moving on up to eating your ass, slipping a finger into the tight ring of muscle making you groan.

Then, his pretty, glistening face will come back up, his chest pressing into your back with a hand around your throat for support, letting you have a taste of yourself off his lips. They're puffy, wet and sloppy as he glides his cock back into you, slipping into you much easier now.

"Got you nice and wet this time, hmm cariño?" he lays a sharp smack on your ass in praise, the smacking sounds of skin and your high pitched moans piercing the room once more.

- It's soft, sensual, passionate fucks when his visits are longer. The kind of sex with rounds. Start at 10 pm, end at 5 am kind. The, "let's see how many surfaces in this hotel room we can christen with me fucking you on top of it" kind.

The kind of sex that has you zoned out your entire college lecture because the flashbacks just pop up, making you clench your thighs. The kind where he's balls deep in your soaked pussy, and it's still not close enough. The kind where you two swear the sweat from your bodies is making you melt into the other's skin. The kind where he says "I love you" with every thrust of his cock.

When he's fucking you like this he's worshipping your body, particularly focusing on your breasts and tummy at first because when he reaches your pussy, he'll be there for hours. He starts by taking your tits and pushing them up gently, holding their weight, admiring how pretty they look in his hands.

Some time later he'll sit you up in Lotus. The angle his cock is going into you in this position is so good, you're sighing and fighting to keep your eyes open but he'll take your chin in his fingers, kiss you, and lean back a little, making sure you get a good view of his wet cock sliding in and out. Watching him fuck you is a requirement.

"No, baby, abre los ojos....recuerdas? (Open your eyes, you remember?)

You nod dumbly.

"Good fucking girl..." while he watches you with a smirk on his stupidly handsome face.

-But there's nothing like a good finger fuck from him.

"You're so beautiful..." he whispers while looking down at you, his pretty lips wrapping around your nipple again, his large pad of his tongue doing laps around your areola as he eases two fingers into your pussy with a tight squeeze. You arch your back and press the back of your head into your mattress, eyes shut tight. He begins to move his fingers in an agonizing rhythm while looking at you with his head cocked to the side.

"Does that feel good, baby?" He whispers.

"Nghhh....." you whine a little bit, struggling to adjust to the girth of his thick fingers.

Miguel eases his fingers a bit, curling them a little slower, pressing upwards softly, then brushing them gently down in a circular pattern against the walls of your pussy, coaxing the soul out of your body in a relaxed, steady pump.

"That better...?" He asks gently.

You nod. "Yes, baby...."

Then he hits the sweet spot.

"Oh.......baby.....right there..."

"Right here, sweetheart?"

Fuck, he hits it perfectly.

"Yes baby......oh baby, please, please don't stop..."

"Oh...." Miguel whispers, eyes melting as he keeps his fingers in your favorite spot.

"I won't..." he kissed your forehead.

"Am I making you feel good, sweet girl?"

"Yes, Daddy you are..."

"Fffuck...what was that, baby?" Miguel chuckles and smirks as he keeps finger fucking you.

"Yes, Daddy...." Your eyes roll back, and your breathing speeds up. He's fucking you too good at this point.

Miguel's cock is painfully hard now.

"Hmmm....one more time for me, mami."

"Yes, Daddy..."

Miguel bites his lip, leaning even closer to you, adding his thumb to your clit and swirling it, making you whine even more.

"Just for that, daddy's gonna make you cum."

-Hickeys only where he can see. You love looking at them when you're alone while he's gone.

"One more, baby, just one more...." He teases playfully, locking his lips around your sore ass cheek, several red purplish marks already left behind. You whine a little and bury your head in the pillow, trying to take your mind off the aching suction.

"Babyyyy...," you whine.

"Mmm, mmm, be patient, baby, almost done." He kneads the flesh of your ass with his hands.

"M' sore...." you exhale, but starting to enjoy the way he's massaging your ass.

He ignores you, focused on branding your ass with his spit.

"M'hungryyy...." you whine, adding a dash of sweetness that you know he always gives in to.

"I'll buy you lunch baby, just a few more minutes..." He mumbles, still occupied with your ass.

You pout but let him have his way this time.

-You two have a consensual agreement to voyeurism whenever you shower, or masturbate, he'll sometimes watch you via his surveillance screens at work. It's almost always a bad time for him though, being the workaholic he is. But once in a while he'll cave.

Miguel grumbles and activates his mask, loading the coordinates in his watch when, out of the corner of his eye, he sees you undressing in your bathroom in the small, minimized window he keeps open for you in the bottom corner of the screen on his watch.

"Really, right now?" He whispers, exasperated.

But then the water turns on and he sees you move the detachable shower head up and down the front of your body, starting with the top of your lead, then watering your tits. The droplets kiss your body and soak it, leaving it shiny and wet. Miguel's getting hard now.

You place a hand on the steamy glass door and open your legs, letting the stream hit you in that spot you love so much.

5 minutes is all I need.

"Ben. Change of plans, need you on Earth-67. Goblin's at it again. I'll be right behind you."

"Wait, what..."

Miguel doesn't answer as he's already briskly walking away for a quiet place to enjoy the show.

-Phone sex always starts off a little awkward but it's always shamelessly filthy as you two lay in your separate locations, letting each other hear the other one fuck themselves. (red is you, black is him)

"How long have we been talking by now, anyway?"

"No clue."

.......

So, did I tell you Jazmin's engaged? I'm supposed to be a bridesmaid. I need to get my dress next month and I'm kind of nervous.

.......

Hello?

....

Baaabe?

Hm?

You distracted or what?

I am technically working, you know.

Hah. Of course you are.

I thought you were only calling me for one reason.

Which was?

Don't play dumb, cariño.

No, really, what?

Very funny.

What?

Just shut up and start moaning or something, idk.

Oh my God!

What, phone sex is too much for you now?

No, but now you just ruined the mood.

Not my problem.

That's too bad, I had a whole outfit planned and everything.

Care to share what this 'outfit' looks like?

No way. I'm still mad at you.

You're not mad when I'm eating you out like the last supper.

Stop!

C'mon now baby...

Uh uh.

*Exhales* Cariño...

Fuck. You...

Baby...

*Grumbles*

Mi amor, mi vida, mi alma....

*Speechless*

My goddess...

*Getting weak*

My sexy little wife...

*Deep breath*

Mrs. O'Hara...

*quietly* Mrs. O'Hara....

Mmmmmm...does that excite you, hermosa?

yes baby....what are you thinking about right now?

I'm stroking my cock, wishing I was fucking that pretty pussy....

Miguellll.....

Shhhhh...baby.....not so loud...

Baby pleaseee...

Keep making those sounds for me baby. Tell me that I'm all yours.

You're mine...

Keep going....

You're all mine baby. I don't want anyone else but you....

Ffuck, that's right baby. Are you touching yourself?

Yes baby, I am...

Good girl....God you're so fucking sexy.

Oh....

Do you have your vibrator on?

Yes baby I do...

Good...put it on that clit for me.

Oh....oh my fucking God....

Yeah....like the way I'm spoiling your pussy, hmm?

Yes Daddy, I love it..... I love it so much.....

Call me that again...

Daddy....

That's right baby...such a filthy girl.

Yeah....

So fuckin naughty..

Yes Daddy I am...

Fffuck.....you're all mine right baby?

Yes Daddy...

You belong to me?

Yes Daddy I'm all yours....

Fffuck that's right baby...you're all fucking mine. Gonna fucking kill anybody that takes you away from me..

I love you so fucking much....

I fucking love you baby...God you drive me so fuckin insane...

Miguel.....Baby, I wanna cum....

Cum for me princesa...wanna hear you whine while I make you cum all over my cock....

Oh God....

Tell me you're close baby?

I'm close, baby....

God I wanna fucking ruin you...

Ruin me baby...

I'm gonna fuckin ruin you....pound you....fuck you so fucking hard....

Mmmmm yeah?

Gonna fucking shove this cock down your pretty throat....let you swallow my cum...

Oh baby I want you so fucking bad...

How much baby?

So fucking much baby, you're all I think about...I cum just thinking about you....

Cum for me right now.

Ohhhhhhh....

*Panting*

Baby....

Was that good for you baby?

Yes baby....it was fucking amazing...

Good... because we're doing it again.

-------

😇

#miguel o'hara #spotify #miguel atsv #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel ohara smut #across the spiderverse

390 notes · View notes

fabled-fiction · 1 year

Text

Not Canon

Spider!Reader x Miguel O’Hara Implied

Summary: You’re a Spider and so is Miguel, which means it just isn’t meant to be. No matter how hard Miguel tries to convince himself otherwise.

Word Count: 687 (issa short blurb)

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR SPIDERMAN: ACROSS THE SPIDERVERSE.

You weren't canon.

At least, not for him.

There was a very specific formula that everyone had to follow, that he had to follow.

It has his word, basically his gospel. In order to keep the multiverse, the infinite web of realities together from collapsing in on itself. Never diverge from canon events.

He knew if he got too close to you he would absolutely diverge, or worse. You would get close to him and your world as both of you knew it would crumble.

And oh how he loved how much you loved your Earth.

Your Earth, the one that you fought oh so valiantly to protect. You were different from the other Spiders he could tell. Sure every Spider took their role with grace eventually, they always did. Some took some convincing while others only needed a few days. But you were different.

You didn't even question your role after you were bit. Despite having no idea or clue as to what a Spider person was, it was like you immediately knew that you were destined for greatness after that bite. You transformed your role almost as quickly as that spider had transformed you.

That's why you were recruited for the Spider society. It was an easy decision, sometimes he thinks it was too easy of a decision that he had made. That Jessica had made, that Layla had barely put a word in for. You were a Spiderperson for less than a month, but just like your role as a Spider you took your role in Spider society in an instant. You were a natural.

Maybe it was the fact that your spider events weren't necessarily the same as every other spiders. That's what Miguel told himself whenever he let his mind wander a bit too far, whenever he wanted to convince himself that maybe your timeline could be different. That you and him could pursue each other.

He told himself that whenever he found himself looking too long at footage of yourself. Whenever you were away from the society, valiantly defending your Earth from the known enemies of the Spiders whenever they decided to finally pop up in your reality. Or just when you were here, thwiping about and teaching new charges about their roles in the ever expanding web.

Whenever he found his heart beating a little too fast.

Whenever he had himself almost convinced that his aching hand could finally be cured by the hold of yours.

You were supposed to end up with an MJ. Those were just the rules. Just because you had not found your MJ yet didn't mean Miguel could occupy that space until the time came. Cause if he was being honest with himself the minute he made you his he wouldn't step down. He had taken the role of someone else before, he had replaced someone else’s role on another Earth.

That Earth was gone now, because of him.

He would not go through that again.

He wouldn’t let you EVER go through that.

Whenever he found himself lecturing the newest recruit that was taking the news a little too hard that a loved one had to die, saying his infamous speech about how saving one person was not a valid reason to doom thousands that little voice in the back of his head would begin to speak up.

Because if he was being honest with himself, he was a hypocrite.

And maybe that was the irony of his situation. That he was already breaking canon, that he would break canon just for you to be happy. But it was his canon, and other’s canons that he was metaphorically sacrificing just for yours to remain.

He would let a thousand Earths fall to ruin before he could even imagine letting you see yours fall.

“Hey Miguel, you got a second?”

He would let every Earth burn just for a moment with you, you didn't even have to ask.

Because that's all he would allow himself. Faint moments, passing glances, and a few words exchanged. It was just barely enough to satiate his thirst for you. But it was enough to get by.

Because he wasn’t canon.

At least not for you.

#across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman into the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse x reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #spider!reader #spiderman oneshot #oneshot #spiderverse x reader #x reader #spiderman #earth 298

1K notes · View notes

hopelesslygaysstuff · 8 months

Text

pairing: wanda maximoff x scarlet witch

summary: wanda meets herself while opening a portal for another bottle of wine, decides "fuck it" and has sex with her other multiversal self

content warnings: wanda fucking herself, and then being fucked... by herself. cunnilingus, fingering, restraints, nipple clamps, vibrator, strap-on sex, mirror sex, subtle choking, begging, overstimulation

word count: 10.6k+

this was requested by a lovely anon!

masterlist

Seeing Double

The walls flicker, the flashing scenes on the television spreading across the room, creating a harsh shadow on the figure seated on the couch. The sounds of nonsensical chattering from the characters on screen fill the silent room, a theme song ringing out as another episode starts playing.

Long fingers reach for the empty glass sitting on the coffee table, grazing the cup before reaching past it and grabbing the wine bottle directly. A few swallows later and Wanda finishes the entire bottle, staring down at it as she processes. The last remnants of the slightly sugary wine slide down her throat, warming her belly as she unfurls her magic throughout the house.

Green eyes turn scarlet as wisps of magic search the different cabinets of the small kitchen. They wrap around each shelf, and Wanda lets a small frown onto her face when she realizes that she’d gone through her last bottle of wine. She calls her magic back, admiring the way it twists around her fingers as she sinks further into the couch.

Picking at a loose thread on her sweater, she realizes that she’s wearing her old Avengers crewneck. Wanda lets the wine bottle slip from her fingers as she remembers the day she received it. Natasha had been the one to give it to her, presenting it all nice and folded and giving her a rare smile. She’d finally understood what it meant to have a team, to have a family, and Wanda blinks when realizes that she’s smiling slightly as she reminisces.

Shaking those melancholic thoughts away, Wanda feels the wine she’d consumed spread throughout her body, warming her up to the very tips of her fingers. It was rather unfortunate that she’d finished that wine, it was one-of-a-kind. Thor himself had brought it to her, after Vision had died, saying something about celebrating life as she’d taken the bottle with trembling hands. She’d stashed it deep in her cellar, behind some random boxes, but had recently found it and decided, why not?

In her tipsy state, Wanda let her magic roam freely, taking a deep breath as the restricting feeling of reigning in her magic disappeared. She sends out a mental apology to Stephen, knowing that she was breaking his strict rules about her magic use.

Honestly, you try to take power from one teenage girl, and all of a sudden you’re a villain?

Wanda scoffs to herself, absentmindedly opening a portal in search of some more wine. Preferably something strong enough to send her to bed early, as the night was still young and her thoughts too raw to handle. She searches for a few moments, before a tug at her magic causes her to halt.

Pausing, Wanda forces herself to focus as she feels yet another tug at her magic. It felt almost… familiar? Her brows furrow, her back straightening as she sits up on the couch, watching the portal spark in front of her.

It seemed to be leading into a kitchen of some sorts, one that looked well decorated, similar to her own, yet significantly larger. Wanda tilts her head, feeling that same strong sensation pull at her magic, something soft yet commanding. She narrows her eyes, finally pinpointing the strand of her magic that was connected to the familiar pull, and tugs.

Something in the portal shifted, and Wanda tenses in anticipation, her heart thudding as her gaze sharpens. A figure moves closer, and Wanda’s eyes meet a very familiar pair of green eyes as a woman walks through the portal. With an absentminded flick of her fingers, the strange woman closes the portal, and Wanda feels yet another tug at her magic.

“Who…?” The words die in Wanda’s throat as the woman turns to face her head-on.

No fucking way.

Wanda feels as though she is trapped in a trance, her eyes raking over the other woman standing in her living room. It was like looking into a mirror, except this version of her had brown hair, and not quite as many wrinkles around her eyes. She is wearing a similar crewneck, hers a faded green color, instead of the red one currently hugging Wanda’s frame.

The only thought running through Wanda’s slightly-tipsy, definitely-not-thinking-clearly brain was that the other woman looked rather hot. One might even say, stunning. She couldn’t help staring at the woman’s chest, having seen that chest in the mirror a thousand times. Except, it was different somehow, seeing her chest on another person.

Fuck, was she attracted to this?

“Hi,” The smooth voice startles Wanda out of whatever trance she’s lost herself in, and she hurriedly moves her eyes away from the other woman’s chest, meeting sparkling green eyes. The shade was familiar, and Wanda couldn't help but match the soft smile the other woman wore.

Those green eyes slowly trace a path down Wanda’s body, leaving trails of fire that ricochet under her skin. She squirms, feeling slightly hot all of a sudden, unused to someone's attention being solely focused on her.

“I apologize,” The woman starts, holding up her hand. In it, is a bottle of wine, and Wanda feels her eyes light up as she subconsciously uses her magic to bring another glass over. “You must be wondering who I am.”

Wanda snorts, feeling her limbs loosen as she slides the glasses over towards her counterpart. “I think I have a pretty good idea who you are.”

Pointedly looking the other woman up and down, Wanda matches the smirk on the brunette’s face, before blinking at the absurdity of her own face staring back at her. She watches her grab the glasses, her long fingers wrapping around the stem as a wisp of scarlet magic pops the cork off of the wine she’d brought.

“Well,” The woman begins, pouring two glasses. The wine is dark, and Wanda couldn’t wait to have a taste, her tongue quickly swiping over her bottom lip. “My name is Wanda, but you knew that already.”

She pauses, taking a step closer to Wanda, who fidgets slightly on the couch. Handing her one of the now-filled glasses of wine, the brunette feels her counterpart's soft fingers graze her own as she accepts the glass. A spark runs down both their arms, and they both raise their eyebrows at the same time, the movement mirrored exactly on the other’s face in a slightly eerie fashion.

“I heard your call, although it rather felt like a strong tug on my magic.” The other Wanda begins, sitting down next to Wanda. She tries not to think about how their legs brush, the heat of the other woman’s thigh sending a different kind of heat racing towards her core.

The other woman shifts again, and Wanda belatedly realizes that her eyes are locked on the same lips as her own. She’d never noticed just how kissable they seemed, it seemed that this night was full of self discovery and pleasant surprises.

At the sound of a throat clearing, Wanda snaps out of her daze, her eyes locking with a matching pair of green ones. A familiar looking smirk plays on her counterpart's lips, and Wanda blinks rapidly as she distracts herself by sipping from her glass.

The wine tastes smooth, rich but not too heavy. Wanda feels her eyebrows steadily rising as she savored the taste of her first sip. She pointedly avoids eye contact with the other woman, feeling slightly intimidated by this other version of herself. She seems a lot more confident in herself, all grace and power with each movement, and Wanda tries not to think about the old crewneck she was wearing, or the comfortable joggers she wears that brush gently against the other woman’s expensive looking slacks.

“Good?” The voice is low, and Wanda can hear traces of her own Sokovian accent as the woman speaks.

Strengthening her resolve, Wanda raises her eyes, feeling as though she was having a slightly out-of-body experience as she meets those eyes. The same ones that look back at her when she dared look in a mirror, green and tired. So very tired, but still sparkling. She wonders what the other version of herself had been through.

“Yes, thank you.” Wanda falters then, not quite knowing what to say. Her counterpart also looks at quite a loss for words, but stretches out slightly on the couch, her posture relaxed. Her arm reaches out, her fingers tentatively splaying on Wanda’s forearm as her eyes search the other’s for permission.

Wanda licks her lips, tasting the remnants of her last sip of wine, before taking a bigger gulp and leaning fully towards the other woman. She smiles, but just with her eyes, her lips parted slightly as she felt her heart race. Fuck, she was actually really attractive. She wonders if her counterpart was different from herself, or if she just didn’t see her own body the way she was seeing it now.

Shaking her head, Wanda brushes the confusion aside, wanting to focus solely on her counterpart. The other woman rests her own glass on her thigh, her hand firmer against Wanda’s forearm as her fingers trace nonsensical patterns into the soft fabric. Her eyes seem slightly unfocused, an adorable crinkle between her eyebrows as she slides her gaze over Wanda’s form.

“So,” Wanda begins, feeling her nerves start to dissipate at the soft glow in her counterpart’s eyes. She leans in, putting her own hand against the other woman’s shoulder, feeling grounded slightly at her other self’s solid form beneath her fingertips. “Tell me all about your timeline, and I’ll share about mine?”

They share a smile, and Wanda relaxes fully as her counterpart begins speaking. She enjoys the sound of her voice, similar to her own but lower, with a slightly raspy undertone. She resolves to practice that voice later, when nobody can hear her. For now, she’s content to listen and learn about the other Wanda’s timeline.

—

‘Holy shit, I’m actually really cool.’

Wanda’s glass is empty, her other self’s glass having been discarded to the floor a long time ago. They’re seated so close to each other that an outsider would have called it cuddling, their hands wandering over each other absentmindedly as they speak. It was nice, having someone touch her, even if it was just gentle fingers tracing every inch of her as eyes filled with wonder take her in.

A hand makes its way around her waist, tracing the gentle curve there as Wanda watches those green eyes linger around the waistband of her joggers. A few fingers slip softly under the slight crop of her crewneck, warm against her skin, and Wanda feels herself flush under the sudden intense focus.

Suddenly needing a distraction, Wanda clears her throat, feeling as though a spotlight was thrust upon her when the other woman’s dark green eyes snap towards hers. “So, I don’t really know what to call you…”

Trailing off, Wanda watches her counterpart tilt her head, a look of confusion in her eyes.

“Just call me my name.” The woman says, and holy fuck that demanding tone did something to Wanda. Her gaze is stifling, her eyes hot as she watches Wanda open her mouth a few times, her fingers absentmindedly tracing small circles against the soft skin of her waist.

“But… I’m Wanda.” She knows her voice has a slight whine to it, but Wanda can’t bring herself to care. Her brain is starting to hurt, the lines blurring slightly in her mind as she attempts to categorize herself and the other version of herself that stepped through her portal.

Firm fingers stroke her cheek, resting on her temple as Wanda’s brain halts at the touch. The other woman watches her, feeling Wanda’s breaths slow down as her green eyes start to look less panicked. “You can call me…” She thinks for a moment, her eyes unfocusing as she looks somewhere over Wanda’s left shoulder.

“Scarlet?” Wanda’s voice is soft, a single eyebrow raised as she waits for a response.

“Because I’m the truest version of the Scarlet Witch?” The other woman’s tone is dry, her eyebrows raised in an unimpressed manner as she watches Wanda’s expression mirror her own. “How original.”

Gently shoving at the hand still pressed against her cheek, Wanda lets a small smile onto her lips as she looks around for her glass of wine. Scarlet stretches, her hand still wrapped around Wanda’s waist, her fingers twitching as she lets out a large sigh. Wanda tries to ignore the slight blush she knows is creeping up onto her face, and picks up the now-empty bottle of wine.

Raising the bottle up so Scarlet can see, she lets it dangle loosely from her fingers before she drops it back onto the floor. Green eyes find hers, and Wanda decides that she will not lose whatever game they’re playing. This is her own fucking universe, she will not be bested at mere flirting.

Reaching a hand out as casually as she can, Wanda tucks some of the silky, reddish-brown hair behind Scarlet’s ear, smirking when she sees the slight flush in the tips of her ears. Pietro had always made fun of her for that, telling her that her blush always started in her ears. It was nice to see that didn’t change even in other universes.

They sit in the moment for a beat, before Scarlet’s eyes light up, and Wanda can’t remember the last time she saw such an excited expression on her own face. It was refreshing to see. The woman turns to her, her fingers wrapping around Wanda’s wrists in excitement as she pulls her into a standing position.

“Let’s go out. It’s a big city right? There must be something we can do for fun.” Her voice is still deep, her tone raspier than ever as her accent bleeds through, and Wanda doesn’t think she’s ever heard a lovelier sound.

“I don’t have many outfits for a night out,” Wanda’s tone is regretful, as images of dancing in some dark club flash through her mind. She finds herself wishing that she could spend more time with… herself? What an interesting thought.

A chuckle sounds out, and Wanda huffs slightly as Scarlet grips her forearms for support as she laughs. She shifts her weight, leaning on one hip as she raises a single eyebrow, waiting for the other woman to cease her laughter.

“Darling,” Wanda flushes at the nickname. “We’re the Scarlet Witch, we have magic.”

The dots connect, and Wanda lets an upside-down grin onto her face as she shakes her head. Of course, how could she have forgotten? Magic was what got her into this situation in the first place, not that she was complaining. Scarlet’s green eyes meet hers, sparkling with laughter, and Wanda rolls her eyes slightly as she twists her fingers.

Scarlet tendrils erupt around them as Wanda changes their outfits, Scarlet closing her eyes at the feel of familiar magic brushing her skin. She opens them after the tendrils dissipate, looking down at herself briefly before taking in Wanda. Her eyes widen fractionally, and she feels her next breath shake slightly as she takes in the short hemline of the dress Wanda wore.

Looking down, she realizes that she is dressed in a similar fashion, except her dress is longer, with a slit running up one of the sides. Wanda’s eyes are hot and locked on that small strip of skin, following the slit as high as it would go before she seems to shake herself out of a daze.

Smirking, Wanda finds her own expression mirrored on Scarlet’s face. She doesn’t think she will ever get used to that. Reaching out a hand, she lets herself enjoy the feeling of Scarlet’s waist as she pulls her close, not minding when the woman’s hand rests dangerously low on her back. She leans in, a teasing smile on her lips as red tendrils erupt around them, creating a portal.

“How do you feel about clubbing?”

—

Wanda can’t remember the last time she had gone out drinking, let alone clubbing. It was probably back before her Avenger days, when Pietro would sneak them into a dingy club and steal some alcohol before twirling her around and making her forget about their lives, even if just for a moment. The security in Sakovian nightclubs was minimal, and Wanda smiles fondly at the memory as she and Scarlet step into the crowded room.

Bodies swarm around them, hands flying through the air as the music swirled around the mass of people. Different colored lights flash, the air thick with the scent of alcohol and sweat soaked skin. Wanda feels happier than she has in the past year, and her eyes sparkle as she pulls Scarlet close and makes her way towards the bar.

“What’s your favorite drink?” The words are yelled into Scarlet’s ear, and the woman just stares in confusion, her head tilting slightly. Wanda rolls her eyes, realizing that the woman probably can’t hear her over the thumping beat and blaring music.

Pulling Scarlet in by the waist, Wanda smirks at the way those green eyes flick down to her lips before she moves those lips directly next to the woman’s ear. “I asked, what’s your favorite drink?”

Wanda doesn’t have to yell as loud this time, and she feels Scarlet’s lips graze her neck slightly before she gets a response. She shudders, almost missing the drink order, and judging by the way Scarlet was smirking at her, the woman had definitely felt her reaction.

Pulling away, Wanda subtly uses her magic to keep the swarms of people away from them as she orders two drinks. The bartender looks slightly confused, glancing between them briefly before he seems to shrug, making their drinks in record time as he nods towards another drunk man screaming his order.

Scarlet pulls incessantly at Wanda’s waist, her fingers firm as she leads them away from the over-crowded bar. Wanda tries not to think too hard about the pleasurable heat spreading from that point of contact, but can’t help the way her body presses slightly against Scarlet’s as they lean against a wall.

A glass of some red colored drink is raised to Scarlet’s lips, and Wanda lets her eyes rest on them as they greedily swallow the contents. She feels almost as if she were in a trace, Scarlet’s hand dancing along the hem of her dress as her tongue slowly runs over her bottom lip. She seems to savor the taste, and Wanda slowly raises her own glass, a spike of pride racing through her when Scarlet’s green eyes lock on the way the rim of her cup rests against her lips.

Taking a sip, Wanda’s eyes shoot up in surprise at the sweet cherry flavor. She licks her lips, smiling slightly as she feels Scarlet’s breath hitch, her chest rising rapidly as her eyes flick upwards. Wanda steps in closer, feeling Scarlet’s hand wrap firmly around her waist, pressing their bodies together. She leisurely finishes the rest of her drink, before gently pressing her thigh against Scarlet’s pelvis and feeling herself throb at the woman’s low moan.

“Time to dance.” Wanda murmurs, and she feels Scarlet’s fingers flex slightly as she attempts to keep their bodies pressed together. Feeling a spike of pleasure run through her at the way the other woman’s hips roll slightly against her leg, Wanda reluctantly tears herself away. She slips a soft hand into Scarlet’s slightly callused one, and pulls her towards the center of the club.

Setting their empty glasses down, Wanda turns to face Scarlet, the woman already pulling her close again. The hands around her waist feel hot, and Wanda has to hold in a whimper when those long fingers splay out across her lower back, pressing their bodies together once again.

“Turn around for me.” The words are low, and Wanda blames the red-hot flush to her cheeks on the alcohol she’d just gulped down. Scarlet’s eyes are intense, the green almost viridescent as her pupils dilate slightly.

Nodding slightly, Wanda bites her lower lip nervously, smiling when Scarlet's eyes drop to it. She turns around, her hands coming to rest on top of the ones around her waist. She feels Scarlet’s pelvis press against her, and she experimentally rolls her own hips backwards, reveling in the low groan the other woman lets out. She feels small puffs of air against her neck, and uses one of her hands to move her hair out of the way, tilting her head slightly to give the other woman access.

At the feeling of Scarlet’s soft lips against the sensitive skin of her neck, Wanda’s breath hitches. The soft kisses quickly morph into wet, hot hickeys that turn her pale skin red. Wanda dances to the music, feeling the alcohol take over her mind as she’s thrust into a fuzzy headspace. Her movements feel fluid, and she feels like she can finally breathe properly, sucking in the humid air of the club, the scent of alcohol mixing with a very familiar vanilla perfume.

Letting one of her hands wander upwards, Wanda buries it in the soft hair of the woman behind her, tugging slightly as she tilts her face towards her. She feels her lips detach, the warm air of the club hitting her dampened skin as she turns towards Scarlet.

Pressing her lips against the other woman’s feels like coming home. They feel impossibly soft and urgent against her own as they sway to the beat and press their scantily clad bodies together. Wanda feels her dress riding up slightly, Scarlet’s hand insistent against the bare skin of her upper thigh. She lets her own hand drift from the woman’s hair downwards, resting it against her throat as she silently asks for permission.

Scarlet pulls away, her eyes dark as she slowly moves them towards the backrooms of the club. Upon reaching the doorway, she pushes through, pressing Wanda’s body against the wall of a dimly lit hallway as the door shuts solidly behind them. It was quieter here, more intimate somehow as the thumping music dampened behind the solid wood of the door.

Two pairs of green eyes stare at each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. Wanda flexes her hand slightly, pressing softly against Scarlet’s throat, and smiles when she feels the woman’s breath hitch beneath her hand.

She squeezes. Scarlet moans, and Wanda feels something almost animalistic take over her.

Pulling the woman closer by her throat, Wanda crashes their lips together, feeling the desperate fingers against her waist squeezing tightly. Scarlet’s entire body is flush against hers, and their chests rise and fall in sync as they fight for dominance. Wanda’s other hand is pinned to the wall, her other squeezing tightly on the sides of Scarlet’s neck as the woman gasps into her mouth. Scarlet manages to maneuver her thigh between Wanda’s legs, and upon feeling the sturdy muscles against her aching core, Wanda moans freely into the other woman’s mouth.

The sound of Wanda’s breathy moan snaps something inside Scarlet, and she pulls away to look directly into the other woman’s eyes. Her pupils are blown, the faintest bits of green around them as Wanda stares back with wide eyes and swollen lips.

“Portal us back.” Scarlet manages to get out, grinding her hips slightly against Wanda’s pelvis, needing to feel some sort of relief. “I want you.”

Wanda smirks at the desperate note in the other woman’s voice. Who knew that hearing your own voice pleading and whining was so attractive? Scarlet lets out a choked noise from the back of her throat, her hips jerking as Wanda’s hand squeezes tightly in warning.

“You want me?” Wanda makes her voice low, letting her accent wrap around the words as Scarlet’s eyes close briefly. “Are you sure it’s just that?”

Tilting her head, Wanda waits for a response. The other woman seems to be grounding herself, her hips slowing as she trails her hands up Wanda’s body, resting them just beneath her breasts as she opens her eyes.

“I need you.” She practically purrs, her voice raspy and her eyes narrowed. Wanda blinks, the words sending her further into the haze taking over her brain. She feels Scarlet’s fingers ghost the underside of her breasts, the barest sensation sending bolts of pleasure shooting towards her throbbing clit. Her whole body feels like it's on fire, and she nods quickly as Scarlet sends her a familiar smirk.

“My place.” Scarlet’s words are demanding, and Wanda starts to nod before her eyebrows thread together in confusion.

Upon seeing Wanda’s expression, Scarlet clarifies, “If I’m going to fuck you, darling, I’m going to do it right.” She leaned in, letting her tongue softly trail up Wanda’s neck as the woman shudders beneath her. “You can’t even begin to imagine the special types of toys I own.”

“Stephen will be upset,” Wanda protests, and Scarlet rolls her eyes as she remembers the pitiful restrictions put on her.

“Fine.” Scarlet reluctantly removes her hands from Wanda’s soft body, licking her lips before twisting her fingers and opening a portal in the narrow hallway. Green eyes peer around excitedly as Scarlet pulls her through the scarlet tendrils opening the multiverse.

Wanda feels the incessant squeezing of Scarlet’s fingers against her waist, her eyes glued to the strip of skin where her dress is riding up her thighs. She lets her own gaze wander down to the faint bruises around Scarlet’s neck, her lips turning up as she spots the bed behind her.

Pushing backwards, Wanda presses her body fully against the other woman’s warm figure. Her eyes take in the dark bedroom, her fingers grasping the woman’s shoulders tightly. Pushing gently, she smiles at Scarlet's gasp when the back of her knees hit the bed, and pushes her into a seated position.

“You seem really desperate, I can smell your arousal.” The words make their way into Scarlet’s brain, the desperate aching of her core clouding her senses as she feels Wanda’s presence overtake her. She grips the dark comforter below her, her knuckles whitening almost instantly, spreading her legs slightly as her hips roll eagerly.

“Let me help with that.” Wanda whispers, before slowly dragging her tongue down Scarlet’s neck and kneeling before her. Her hands wander from the woman’s breasts and over her taut stomach, nails scratching slightly over the muscles she knows are hidden beneath her dress.

Twisting her fingers, Wanda watches with wide eyes as the conjured dress disappears. Her gaze roams over Scarlet's body, a voice in the back of her mind telling her that this is also her body. Fuck, Scarlet was attractive. Was she also this hot?

“You’re beautiful.” The words are soft, and Wanda looks up quickly, her eyes shining in the low lighting of the room. Scarlet has a knowing smile on her face, and she twists her fingers slightly as she reminds Wanda that they share the same magic. The same mind reading powers, too.

“Oh, I…” Wanda doesn’t quite know what to say, and Scarlet seems to understand. She reaches out, her fingers ghosting over Wanda’s cheek as she moves her hand into the woman’s scarlet hair.

“You look so pretty on your knees for me.” Scarlet’s words flow between them, and Wanda licks her lips as she lets her eyes drop back to the rapidly forming damp spot in the woman’s underwear. She feels her face burning, certain that a blush is spreading across her cheeks at the praise.

Choosing to forgo words altogether, Wanda allows her head to be pulled closer to Scarlet’s core, the smell of her dripping arousal hitting her nose and filling her senses. She tentatively flattens her tongue, licking a long stripe over the woman’s soaked underwear.

Fuck.

Wanda doesn’t think she’s ever tasted anything as sweet as Scarlet before. She doesn’t think she’s ever heard such pretty sounds, breathy moans leaving those sinful lips and shooting straight to her core.

“God, you’re so needy.” Wanda murmurs, her lips teasing against the woman’s underwear. She has her hands pressed tightly against Scarlet’s hips, attempting to still them as she places feather light kisses against the damp fabric.

A broken whine leaves Scarlet's throat, and Wanda feels her own arousal dampen her already-soaked underwear. The long fingers in her hair tighten, and Wanda has to stop a moan from leaving her lips. Scarlet’s next words are whined and desperate. “Please, stop teasing.”

The sound of Scarlet’s soft voice sends white hot pleasure racing through Wanda’s body. And really, who is she to deny herself?

Twisting her fingers, scarlet wisps appear and dissolve the thin fabric barrier between Wanda’s lips and Scarlet's glistening pussy. At the first stroke of her tongue, Wanda is hooked. She moves her arms under the woman’s trembling thighs, swapping her tongue through the slick arousal and savoring the taste. At the feeling of Scarlet’s clit throbbing beneath her tongue, Wanda flicks it experimentally. Scarlet’s hand tightens painfully in her hair, her hips grinding against her face.

Wanda moans, the vibrations sending acute pleasure through Scarlet’s aching clit. She tries to stop her hips from moving too much, but can’t help the way they move as Wanda begins licking and sucking with earnestness.

The vigor in which Wanda eats her out nearly sends Scarlet over the edge. Almost as if Wanda can sense this, she pulls away briefly while Scarlet’s hips stutter against her tongue. “Grind harder against my face, it's okay. I want you to.”

Scarlet looks down at her, having thrown her head back at some point. Wanda’s glassy eyes are staring back up at her, wide and dark as her tongue teasingly swipes through her folds. She creates a suction with her lips, wrapping them around her clit as her tongue flicks quickly against it. She jerks her hips, whimpering as she holds herself back from grinding all over Wanda’s pretty face, and the redhead pulls away once more.

“Do whatever you want to make yourself come, I can take it.” Wanda’s words are firm, her eyes honest. Scarlet nods, her breath feeling ragged as a moan rips through her throat when Wanda’s hot mouth resumes its ministrations. She feels the wet muscle of her tongue flicking quickly against her clit, her lips creating a delicious suction that sends her hurtling towards an orgasm.

Using both hands to grip Wanda’s hair, Scarlet pulls her face flush against her core, grinding her hips against her chin as her back hits the bed. She can feel her thighs closing, the pressure building as her legs lock around Wanda’s head. The vibrations from Wanda’s moans only add fuel to the fire of her rising arousal, and Scarlet finally falls over the long-awaited edge.

When she comes, it's almost violent. Her thighs squeeze tightly around Wanda’s head, her fingers seizing painfully as they tangle with locks of red hair. Her hips jerk and stutter, waves of arousal coating the smooth skin of Wanda’s face as she releases the overstimulating suction of her lips. Scarlet’s chest rises and falls rapidly, her muscles turning to goo as she relaxes against the mattress, a slow smile spreading on her face.

“That good, huh?” A smug voice sounds, and Scarlet can barely hear it over the pleasant ringing in her ears. She feels strong hands spread her thighs apart, a gentle tongue licking her clean while avoiding her still-sensitive clit. She thinks she could cry from the softness of it all, and finally regains her senses when Wanda begins stroking her face with featherlight fingers.

“Yes,” Scarlet begins, grabbing one of Wanda’s hands and kissing it softly, maintaining eye contact with the other woman as her eyebrows raise in surprise. “You are very good, Wanda.”

Green eyes soften slightly, and Scarlet sits up, feeling her strength return as she takes in the state of the woman standing before her. The bottom half of Wanda’s face is absolutely coated with her juices, the slick arousal shining as she takes the back of her hand and swipes it away. Her lips are swollen, and Scarlet has the strongest urge to kiss them.

So, she does.

Pulling Wanda in, she sucks her bottom lips between her teeth, reveling in the surprised gasp that the redhead lets out. Twisting her fingers, Scarlet removes the rest of Wanda’s clothing, feeling goosebumps erupt on her soft skin as she traces a hand down her spine.

“Kneel on the bed for me, alright?” Scarlet whispers, pulling away and placing a firm hand against Wanda’s sternum when she tries to chase her lips. She waits until Wanda has positioned herself in the center of the bed, resting on her knees. She gives her a quick peck on the lips as a reward, grabbing her wrists and holding them against her thighs with a silent command to keep them there.

Standing, Scarlet takes in the steady rise and fall of Wanda’s perfect chest, feeling quite conceited as she does so. After all, it was practically the same chest as hers. But, semantics. With a smirk, Scarlet makes her way towards the walk-in closet, her voice teasing as she throws a few words over her shoulder, “It’s my turn to make you feel good.”

Knowing that Wanda wouldn’t move an inch, Scarlet takes her time in gathering the few items she needs. By the time she walks back into the bedroom, she knows that Wanda is practically dripping with need, the anticipation driving her practically insane.

“We’re the same, you know.” Scarlet begins, purposefully lowering her voice and letting her accent bleed through. She loves the way Wanda shudders whenever she speaks, the slight power she holds over the redhead shooting straight to her core.

Scarlet lays the items out on the bed in front of Wanda, relishing in the way her eyes widen as they roam over the few toys she’d selected. She chooses to ignore the toys, for now. Instead, she makes her way behind Wanda’s kneeling form, grazing her fingers across the tops of her thighs and over her arms, resting them on her lower back before trailing them up her spine.

Grabbing her hair gently, Scarlet maneuvers Wanda’s head to the side, tilting it slightly as she lets her lips graze where her neck meets her collarbone. “We both have this specific spot on our neck that drives us crazy.”

Wanda lets out a low noise, leaning back as Scarlet shuffles closer until her front is flush against the other woman’s back. She grazes her teeth gently against the very spot she’d been talking about, and feels her own arousal rise again at the soft sounds Wanda is making. She places her lips against the spot, leaving hot, openmouthed kisses against it as Wanda squirms.

Fingers twitch against her thighs, and Scarlet has to commend the redhead for staying still. She knows just how desperate she gets whenever someone teases that spot on her neck, and decides to reward Wanda.

Sinking her teeth in, Scarlet smiles at the drawn out moan that escapes those swollen lips, Wanda’s head dropping back against her shoulder as she sucks a dark hickey into her neck. Once she’s sure that the redhead is properly distracted, she lets her hands slowly make their way from her waist to her breasts.

Detaching her lips, and chuckling at the high whine that Wanda lets out, Scarlet moves her fingers until they gently graze the woman’s hardened nipples. Wanda’s body jolts, and her eyes close when Scarlet’s mouth returns to her ear. “And most importantly, our nipples are sensative as fuck.”

Wanda moans freely at that, the sounds becoming more high pitched and breathy when Scarlet’s nimble fingers begin twisting and pinching her nipples. Her body presses further against the woman behind her, leaning against her for support as her hips rut helplessly into the air.

“So desperate for me,” Scarlet’s voice is in her ear again, and Wanda thinks she might come just from the sound of it. Then, she feels those soft lips and talented tongue stimulate that spot on her neck, and she practically melts against the woman behind her.

Rolling her hips, Wanda presses herself against the woman behind her, wanting… no, needing Scarlet to stimulate her soon. The growing pressure was quickly becoming unbearable, and the added sensations from those talented fingers against her breasts was causing her to pant and moan in a very undignified manner.

“Please,” Wanda begins, before quickly closing her mouth at Scarlet's low chuckle against her neck.

“Begging already?” Her hands disappear from her breasts, one moving down towards her thighs while the other trails up towards her neck. “How pathetic, I haven’t even properly touched you yet.”

A firm hand wraps around Wanda’s throat, and her eyes roll backwards. She’s truly never felt this many sensations before, and she’s definitely never begged for anything. Of course it would only be a version of herself that manages to reduce her to a submissive puddle of need.

Scarlet wisps emerge from the hand near her thighs, and Wanda watches as they float teasingly towards one of the objects spread before her on the bed. She bites back a whimper at the chosen object, hearing the delicate metal chain clink softly as it's dropped into Scarlet’s waiting hand.

“I can tell by your reaction that you’ve experienced the wonderful pleasure that nipple clamps have to offer.” Scarlet’s voice holds a teasing tone, and Wanda presses her lips together and nods.

“Really… with who?” The question hangs in the air, and Wanda swallows the thick embarrassment in her throat as she tries to form some words. The woman behind her lets out a soft sigh, before taking mercy on the flustered redhead.

“For me, it was Natasha that introduced me to the kinkier side of sex.” Scarlet sounds almost wistful, and Wanda twists her head in surprise.

“Natasha?”

Gentle fingers grip Wanda’s chin, moving her head back to its original position. She catches a glimpse of Scarlet’s smirking lips, and jumps slightly when the woman teasingly drags the cold metal of the nipple clamps across each breast.

“Yes, darling. Natasha.” Wanda can hear the teasing tone in Scarlet’s voice, and attempts to twist her head to the side to ask for more information. The fingers against her jaw tighten, the blunt fingernails digging into her skin as Scarlet holds her head in place.

“If you’re good, maybe I’ll tell you the stories later.”

“Stories? As in plural?” Wanda knows that there's a hint of hysteria in her voice, and Scarlet wraps her hand around her throat, soothing her instantly. She can feel the woman smiling against her ear and tries not to move when her hand tightens.

“Don’t think too hard about it, you’ll hurt that pretty little head of yours.” The words send Wanda spiraling straight into a vanilla-scented haze, and she nods dumbly in response. She lets herself get wrapped up in the comforting touches of Scarlet's hand and the soft kisses being placed against her neck as the hand wrapped around her throat moves down and begins attaching the nipple clamps.

Wanda’s body feels like it’s on fire, the nipple clamps shooting white-hot bolts of pleasure straight to her throbbing clit as Scarlet tightens them. Her moans reverberate around the room, her hips twitching aimlessly as she searches for a source of friction. Anything to ease the pressure at her core.

“You never answered my question.” The words reach Wanda’s ears, and she thinks she might cry. Her brain is not working the best right now, and it's absolutely cruel of Scarlet to ask her questions while she’s in this state.

“Um, I…” Wanda can’t quite seem to wrap her head around the previous question, her mind blank as she searches for an answer.

“Did you forget already? That’s alright, maybe this will help you remember.” Scarlet murmurs in her ear, before grabbing the delicate chain swinging between Wanda’s breasts that connected to the nipple clamps. Tugging, she relishes in the broken moans leaving those sinfully plump lips, her eyes locked on Wanda’s painfully hard nipples as they stretch slightly under the force of the chain.

“It was, fuck… Agatha.” Wanda manages, and Scarlet pauses. Taking in small breaths, so she doesn’t stretch her nipples further than pleasantly painful, Wanda tilts her head slightly, trying to guess why the woman had stopped.

“Agatha, as in… the one who tried to battle you in Westview? The one who nearly stole my power in my universe? The one with the rabbit?” Scarlet’s voice is disbelieving, and she shakes her head as she processes. A proud chuckle escapes her lips, and she presses a kiss softly against Wanda’s cheek before tugging sharply against the chain.

A strangled yelp leaves Wanda’s lips, and Scarlet moves her other hand towards the glistening mound between the redhead’s thighs. “I didn’t know you had it in you, darling. Very well done.”

Pride blooms in Wanda’s chest, and she lets a slow smile onto her face as Scarlet begins circling her clit. Those talented fingers avoid the one spot that needs the most attention, instead dipping down and collecting the leaking wetness from her leaking pussy, before smearing it over her inner thighs.

“Fuck, darling. You’re absolutely soaked, I didn’t realize that fucking yourself, in a manner, would get you this hot and bothered.” Scarlet’s voice is teasing, and Wanda groans as she dips the tips of her fingers into her entrance, before pulling away and smearing it onto her other thigh.

“Well,” Wanda begins, feeling her thighs tremble from the effort of staying still, “What can I say? We’re attractive, don’t even try to deny it.”

Scarlet hums approvingly, and without any warning, thrusts two fingers knuckle deep into the wet heat of Wanda’s pussy. A moan sounds out, and Scarlet relishes in the way the woman’s walls are clamping around her fingers, before beginning to thrust them quickly.

The sound of Wanda’s arousal sloshing around her fingers nearly sends Scarlet over the edge, and she grinds her pelvis firmly against Wanda’s backside. Working herself up, Scarlet thrusts quickly, her fingers hitting that sweet spongy spot that has Wanda seeing stars. The gasped moans sound like music to her ears, and she lets out her own moan into Wanda’s ear, pleased with the way the redhead rolls her hips against her fingers.

Moving her thumb up to apply pressure against her protruding clit, Scarlet tugs sharply at the nipple clamps, before moving her mouth close to Wanda’s ear and muttering, “Cum.”

All it takes is a few more deep thrusts, and Scarlet’s teeth biting into that sensitive spot of Wanda’s neck to bring her orgasm to the surface. She shudders, her walls clamping down on Scarlet’s fingers as they pulsate, the muscles contracting and expanding rapidly. Her clit throbs under the woman’s thumb, each wave of her orgasm feeling just as strong as the last as Scarlet fucks her through it.

Breathing deeply, Wanda attempts to calm herself down, her clit already overstimulated and painfully sensitive. She pushes Scarlet’s hand away, ignoring the huff from behind her as she turns around and faces the woman fully.

“You also did very well.” Wanda says cheekily, electing to ignore the eye roll she receives. She places a hand against Scarlet’s flushed cheek, her fingers still trembling from the force of her orgasm as they stroke her skin softly.

Green eyes stare back at her, flicking to her lips as Wanda pants, regaining her ability to breathe. As soon as her breaths have evened out, she pulls Scarlet closer, their lips colliding gently. Wanda thinks that Scarlet has the softest lips she’d ever had the pleasure of kissing, and moves her own smoothly against hers.

A strong tongue licks at her bottom lip, and Wanda allows it, enjoying the feel of Scarlet’s tongue against hers as she slowly pushes her down until her shoulder blades hit the mattress. Twisting her fingers, Wanda brings one of the objects to her waiting palm, smirking against the other woman’s lips when it hits her hand.

Pulling away, Wanda sits up, moving her thighs to either side of Scarlet's waist. She eargerly takes in the halo of reddish-brown hair around her and the way her eyes sparkle as they curiously look at the item in her hand.

“And what’s that for?” Scarlet asks, her hand already twitching as she reaches for the vibrator.

Wanda pulls it away, outside of her reach, and chuckles at the crinkle that appears between her eyebrows. She twists her fingers again, causing scarlet tendrils to wrap around the woman’s wrists and pull them towards the headboard.

“How creative.” Scarlet’s tone is flat, her face unimpressed.

“I’m not finished yet.” The words are murmured, and Scarlet feels slightly embarrassed at the wave of wetness she feels leak out of her at the sound of Wanda’s low voice. Watching with slightly widened eyes, Scarlet’s mouth falls open at the mirror that appears on the ceiling, showing the two of them perfectly.

Looking up, Wanda grins at the placement of the mirror. She smirks at Scarlet, hearing the woman’s thoughts running wild as she takes in their forms through the reflective glass. Moving herself back slightly, she traps the woman’s legs between her thighs as she sets the vibrator on the puffy flesh of Scarlet’s mound.

“I haven’t even turned it on, and you’re already rutting against the toy.” Wanda says, her voice still teasing as Scarlet attempts to still her hips. At the slight glare she receives, Wanda pulls the toy away before delivering a sharp slap to the glistening pussy in front of her. Her fingers hit the woman’s clit perfectly, and she enjoys the jolt that makes its way through Scarlet’s body.

If the resounding moan is anything to go by, Scarlet loves it. She muffles the moan that attempts to escape her, and Wanda raises a single eyebrow.

“Don’t quiet yourself, I want to hear every sound I can pull out of you.” Her words are firm, demanding even, and Scarlet nods quickly as she glances towards the toy through the mirror. She would give just about anything to feel its vibrations against her now-aching pussy.

Almost as if she can read her thoughts (oh wait), Wanda turns the toy on, pressing it deliciously against Scarlet’s protruding clit. Jolts of pleasure rush through her, and she throws her head back while squeezing her eyes tightly shut.

As soon as she does so, Wanda pulls the toy away, tilting her head when Scarlet looks at her with betrayal in her eyes, asking in a whiny tone, “Why?”

“I want you to look at yourself when I make you cum from a single toy.” Wanda’s tone is smug, almost too smug for Scarlet’s liking, but any protests she has fade away when the redhead turns the toy back on, bumping up the strength slightly.

A string of curse words leaves her lips, her eyes locked on the toy through the mirror. Eventually, they wander towards her slightly squirming hips, and she moans at the sight. Tugging at her restraints, Scarlet watches the way her muscles flex as she attempts to escape their tight hold, and for a moment, she thinks she sees Wanda’s body instead of her own.

That would make sense, seeing as they were literally the same person, and Scarlet feels the lines between them start to blur as her orgasm rises. She sneaks a glance down, watching as Wanda’s eyes greedily take in the sight of her squirming body. That scene alone makes her gush around the toy, the vibrations increasing in sound as the liquid vibrates between her pussy and the toy.

“Do you want to cum?” Wanda asks, not giving her the chance to respond before she continues. “You know, I’m never able to keep still either when I touch myself at home. A vibrator practically makes me move all over the bed, and I have to restrain my hips against the bed whenever I use it.”

Scarlet’s lips fall open, and Wanda smirks when she reads the thoughts running through her hazy mind. “Ah, you do the same thing, huh? I guess we really aren’t that different from each other, even though we’re from different universes.”

The thought of Wanda getting off to a vibrator while restraining herself plays on repeat in Scarlet’s mind, and she cants her own hips upwards as she feels her orgasm close in. Streams of pleas leave her lips, the woman too far gone to feel much shame about it.

“Please, let me… fuck. I’m so- I’m. Fuck. Close, I’m close. Please, I need to… let me. I need to cum. Please.” Scarlet writhes against her restraints, feeling Wanda’s thighs tighten around her own thighs as she minimizes the movements of her legs.

“Wanda, please.” At the sound of her own name falling from those familiar lips, Wanda turns the vibrations up a few levels, pressing the toy firmly against Scarlet’s spasming pussy. Loud moans reverberate around the dim room, the scent of arousal filling Wanda’s nose as she watches the woman below her with intense focus.

“Cum for me, darling.” The words are soft, but the second they leave Wanda’s lips, Scarlet feels her orgasm crash over her.

White hot tendrils of pleasure course through her, her hips jolting against the toy as she feels another wave of wetness coat the head of the vibrator. Wanda’s thighs are firm against hers, limiting the effect of her convulsions as her orgasm hits her with wave after wave of pleasure cascades through her body.

Feeling like her nerves are quite shot, Scarlet whimpers when the vibrations against her clit become painful, her pussy clenching around nothing as wetness leaks all over her inner thighs and down to the comforter. Wanda turns down the settings on the toy to the lowest level, helping Scarlet ride out the aftershocks and prolonging the pleasure as long as possible.

After a minute or two, Scarlet’s eyes plead with Wanda to turn off the toy, her throat feeling hoarse from the ragged moans that ripped through it. The only thing she can manage is a whispered, “Please.”

Wanda turns off the toy, discarding it somewhere behind her as she leans down to kiss the trembling lips on the woman below her. Her shift of position causes Scarlet to feel the pool of wetness that had leaked from the redhead’s own throbbing center against her thighs, and she moans into her mouth.

Twisting her fingers again, Wanda releases Scarlet from the tendrils of magic restraining her wrists. Feeling those hands come down and wrap themselves in her hair, she hums pleasantly against the woman’s mouth, gasping at the sharp tug that follows.

A strong tongue snakes into her mouth, sliding pleasantly against her own as Scarlet practically devours her lips and tongue. Her teeth graze Wanda’s bottom lip lightly, almost teasingly, before biting down and pulling.

Breaking the kiss with a gasp, Wanda grinds her overheated core against the hard muscles of Scarlet's now-soaked thighs. She kisses away the smirk that appears on the woman’s face, using her magic to bring another toy to her hand.

“I want to ride you.” Wanda is pleased with the groan her words draw from Scarlet’s throat, the woman’s eyes widening with anticipation at the strap on clenched in Wanda’s hand. Her hands gesture urgently, fingers trembling as she clenches the comforter below her.

Waving her hand, Wanda watches scarlet wisps attach the strap to Scarlet’s pelvis. This toy was different from the strap she had in her own universe, as it didn’t have a harness. Instead, there was a smaller dildo attached that slipped inside the person wearing it, creating the illusion that the toy was genuinely attached to the woman.

A groan leaves Scarlet’s swollen lips, Wanda’s hand tugging against the toy as she makes sure it’s attached correctly. The smaller part of the toy buried in Scarlet's pussy hits her g-spot perfectly, the larger dildo on the outside pressing snugly against her clit.

Grasping at Wanda’s waist, Scarlet’s hands impatiently position the redhead over the strap. Scarlet positions herself against the headboard slightly, just enough so that she can still watch their movements through the mirror while also looking directly at Wanda’s face.

“Go on.” The raspy quality of Scarlet’s voice causes another wave of wetness to escape Wanda’s core, and she slowly sinks down on the strap, giving herself time to adjust. The hands around her waist move down until they grip her hips, helping her take the last inch of the toy, both of them sighing in sync when the strap bottoms out.

Wanda experimentally moves her hips, just slightly, as a strangled moan escapes her when the tip of the toy drags over that spongy spot inside her. She begins fucking herself on the strap, Scarlet’s hands resting against her hips, the woman’s eyes eagerly taking in the sight before her.

“You look absolutely beautiful like this.” Scarlet’s voice is almost reverent, her eyes unblinking as she watches the glistening strap when Wanda sinks down on it over and over again. She lets her eyes wander up Wanda’s body, taking in her breasts as they bounce slightly with each thrust of Wanda’s hips.

“That’s a bit conceited, don’t you think?” Wanda has a single eyebrow raised, her voice breathless as she focuses on the building pleasure coursing through her. She grinds herself against Scarlet's pelvis, the strap hitting her g-spot perfectly as the strap is buried inside her overheating pussy.

Scarlet chuckles, her fingers gripping Wanda’s hips tighter and urging her hips to move faster. She moves her lips closer to Wanda’s grazing them as she speaks, “Well, its like you said earlier, we’re both hot as fuck, darling.”

Wanda doesn’t respond, choosing instead to capture her other self’s lips in a searing kiss. Her teeth clack against Scarlet’s, her lips desperate as she sucks and bites at the woman’s already swollen lips. She feels the fingers around her hips dig in, and she’s positive that she’ll find multiple bruises in the morning.

Breaking the kiss, Scarlet enjoys the whimper that escapes Wanda as she lifts her hips and slams her back on the strap. “Fuck yourself, Wanda.”

A few broken moans ring out, and Wanda uses all the strength she has left to lift her hips repeatedly. White hot pleasure builds, the pressure in her core becoming unbearable as Scarlet begins thrusting her hips as well.

“I’m going to cum.” Wanda’s voice is strained, her head thrown back as her eyes close of their own accord. Scarlet can’t blame her, knowing how desperate she also becomes when a strap on is involved. Using a single hand, she begins applying pressure against Wanda’s throbbing clit.

The hard nub pulsates beneath her fingers, and Wanda’s movements become uncoordinated and jerky, a sign that means she’s close to an orgasm. Scarlet feels a rush of power, and she leans her own head back, watching both of them through the mirror on the ceiling. Her fingers slip over Wanda’s clit, arousal coating them as she circles it quickly.

“Let go, Wanda. Cum for me, you can do it.” Scarlet urges, watching as the redhead comes undone. She shakes, her hips rutting against the toy as she lets out a few strained moans. Her orgasm is quick, the aftershocks holting through her until she’s almost dizzy from the stimulation. Still, it's not enough.

“More,” Wanda chokes out, her chest heaving and mind hazy as she feels pleasure build once more. “I need more, please.”

In one quick movement, Scarlet moves forwards, maneuvering them until Wanda’s back is pressed against the mattress, her eyes looking directly at the mirror on the ceiling. From this angle, she can watch as Scarlet’s back muscles flex while her hips thrust roughly into her. It's a mesmerizing sight, and only causes her orgasm to race towards the edge once more.

The sound of a metal chain clinking shocks Wanda out of her daze, and she suddenly remembers the nipple clamps still attached to her. From the look on Scarlet’s face, she’s immensely pleased with this, and her fingers wrap around the chain as she moves into a kneeling position.

“Keep watching in the mirror, you’re going to enjoy this.”

“Fuck.” That’s the only word that Wanda can manage, her eyes glued to Scarlet’s form in the mirror. She watches her hand gently tug at the chain, her nipples stretching slightly. She sighs at the pleasurable jolts of pain that shoot through her at the action, her hips jerking as she attempts to fuck herself against the strap.

She needs more.

A smirk appears on Scarlet’s face as soon as the thought runs through Wanda’s mind, and she snaps her hips sharply. Pulling the length of the toy almost completely out of the poor redhead’s soaked entrance, she tugs harshly at the nipple clamps while simultaneously thrusting the entire toy deep inside of Wanda.

The sound that tears from Wanda’s throat is animalistic, her pupils blown as she watches Scarlet’s hips pound against hers as the strap reaches the deepest parts of her pussy. Her fingers clench the comforter beneath her, her knuckles completely white as she grits her teeth and arches her back.

“Tell me how much you want it, how much you need to cum.” Scarlet demands, her tone as unforgiving as the rapid pace she sets. She waves her hand, the vibrator slapping against her palm as Wanda begins speaking, her words broken and desperate.

“Please, I- fuck. I need it so bad, please. I’ll… do… fucking hell. I’ll do anything. Just, please- jesus. Please let me, oh fuck… right there. Yes, fuck. Let me come. Please.” The words are babbled, some coherent and others mumbled breathily as Wanda’s eyes glaze over.

Scarlet has never seen a more beautiful sight.

Skilled hands turn the vibrator on, setting it to one of the highest vibration levels. Wanda whines at the sound of the toy, her legs squeezing in an attempt to close against the overstimulation she knows she’s about to receive.

“You’ll take everything I give you.” Scarlet’s voice is low, her eyes glinting in the low light of the room. She pries Wanda’s thighs apart, her hips thrusting quickly as she presses the vibrator to Wanda’s swollen clit.

Wanda’s hips jerk violently, tears forming in her eyes at the painful stimulation. It’s enough, and exactly what she’d begged so prettily for, and she’s cumming within seconds. Her clit pulses against the toy, tears streaming down her face as her back arches even more. Her fingers grasp at Scarlet’s wrists, but with a few scarlet tendrils, they’re quickly pinned above her head.

Lewd noises sound out, Wanda’s cries going unheard as Scarlet watches her in fascination. She has an idea, and pulls the vibrator away, enjoying the relieved sobs that tear through Wanda’s throat for a moment, before her hands are rough against the redhead’s waist.

Pulling the strap from the poor woman, she flips her onto her stomach, conjuring a second mirror in front of them. Pulling her ass up, she positions Wanda on her knees, before sharply tugging at her hair and forcing her to look into the mirror.

Moaning at the sight she sees, Wanda takes in the strong form of Scarlet behind her, pulling her hands uselessly against her restraints as the woman’s hips move relentlessly. The strap reaches the deepest part of Wanda’s clenching pussy, streams of arousal coating the length of it as she’s fucked roughly from behind.

Green eyes lock together through the mirror, both with pupils so blown their irises seem almost black, and Wanda feels the deep ache of another orgasm rising. Her walls flutter around the strap, sloshing sounds filling the room and mixing with her shaky moans as Scarlet watches intently.

“I can’t.” Wanda manages, feeling spent, her legs trembling to hold her up even as Scarlet's hands move to support her hips.

“You can,” Scarlet grits out, slamming her hips faster, “And you will.”

A guttural sound leaves Wanda’s throat, the sound ripping through her as Scarlet places the vibrator back on her clit. She falls face down on the mattress, the hand in her hair adjusting her so she can still watch through the mirror with one half-closed eye. She feels a painful ache spread through her body as her orgasm rises, and bites back a sob when her sensitive nipples brush against the comforter with each deep thrust of the strap.

“Now, Wanda.” Scarlet’s voice is smooth and low, her breaths even as she watches the scene through the mirror. “Cum.”

Her final orgasm tears through her body, flames of pleasure roaring through her veins as Wanda weakly fights against her restraints. She tries to escape the seemingly never-ending pleasure, but Scarlet’s tight hold on her hips prevents any attempts.

“Too much.” Wanda chokes out, her vision darkening around the edges as Scarlet thrusts the toy deep inside her one last time. Her whole body is trembling, and she nearly sobs in relief when the vibrator is turned off and discarded somewhere on the bed.

“You did so well,” Scarlet murmurs, watching the cum stained strap as she slowly pulls it out of Wanda’s spasming pussy. She ignores the whimper that the action draws from Wanda, her fingers tracing gentle circles on the woman’s lower back as she finally pulls the toy out.

“I’ve never…” Wanda begins, her voice weak. Scarlet shushes her, twisting her spent body until Wanda is laying with her back against the mattress. Twisting her fingers, she removes the restraints around Wanda’s wrists, and sends her toys off to be cleaned, choosing to keep the ceiling mirror where it is.

Conjuring a warm, damp washcloth, Scarlet begins cleaning the multitude of juices coating Wanda’s inner thighs as her other hand strokes through the woman’s scarlet hair softly. Wanda practically basks in the attentive way Scarlet helps her down, grounding herself with each gentle stroke of the washcloth and each slow pass of the woman’s long fingers against her scalp.

“Feel good?” Wanda would scoff at the question, if she had the strength to do so. Instead, she chooses to nod slowly, her eyes closing of their own accord.

Eventually, Scarlet finishes cleaning her up, and presses a gentle kiss against Wanda’s swollen lips before laying down next to her and pulling her body close to her own.

“I bet we make quite a sight.” Wanda murmurs, turning to her side and facing the other version of herself. She still can’t quite believe that Scarlet is real, but the sex… now that certainly felt real.

“I’m real, darling.” Scarlet sounds tired, her arms wrapping around Wanda’s waist. “And I guarantee that we do.”

Wanda babbles something incoherent, already half asleep as she nuzzles further into Scarlet’s warmth. Her hands snake around the woman’s shoulders, pulling her closer as she pulls the comforter up around them. She tries to say something else, her words slurred as her eyes attempt to open, and Scarlet chuckles.

“Hush, Wanda. Go to sleep.” Her tone is fond, her own eyes closing even as she tries to keep them open. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

A single green eye peers up at her, sparkling in the dim lighting as a small smile appears on Wanda’s face. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

576 notes · View notes

impyssadobsessions · 1 year

Note

Idea; Danny gets lost in the Multiverse, one wrong turn in the Infinite Realms, and just chills in another reality where he meets and befriends Miles Morales.

Meanwhile, Miguel is going rabid trying to find one lost Ghost King just chilling with the new Spider-Man

LMAO How did you know I just went and watched that? XDDD Just funny I just got home and saw this after going to see Across the Spiderverse... Anyways I can see Danny and Miles getting along great. Working well with each other, Danny chilling. Miles figuring it out he's from a different universe. Danny like WELL kind of.. because I imagine the Infinite Realms is connected to everything like a web. Ooo what if infinite Realms is what they travel through to get to different universes just travel is different since its a tunnel tube instead of a train stop like it is for ghosts or those just trying to access the in-between. (crossover idea anyways) Miguel would be furious LOL Doesn't help Danny be like damn what's his problem... He can't take a joke?

Miles: Nope. Danny: Lame. Miguel: Not Lame! >:U GASP they can be INVISA BROS!!!!!

#danny phantom #danny fenton #miles morales #across the spiderverse #the spiderverse #asks #crossover #miguel o'hara

787 notes · View notes

littlegreekhero · 1 month

Text

I know we like to picture the entire Batfamily always in disposition of each other, living together in the Wayne Manor or crashing at each other's apartments; but i raise you, the Giant Family That Struggles To Meet Up Even For Holidays trope

These people get surprised when they see each other in the street and run up for a brief, tight hug before saying goodbyes immediatly because they still have to run errands.

Steph: *happily screeches from across street*

Cass: *also happily screeches from across street*

Steph: *waves and walks away*

Cass: *continues shopping*

They plan for holidays months in advance, trying to make sure plain tickets from Blüdhaven match up to the days Kate can take leave from work, check so no midterms are approaching and beg so no one ditches the plan for their second family.

Babs: Dick, please try to make this sacrifice. I agreed to come even though it means i have to ditch my father, you can just meet with Wally another time.

Dick: B-but... but its WALLY!!! I haven't seen the kids in what? Centuries???

Babs: We have enough kids at home, you can pet them instead.

Damian: I'm a high schooler?

When they finally gather around a table, they can't even make conversation around a topic because everyone has so much to catch up about each other

Jason: Yeah, I'm moving from my apartment at the Hill, I'm not sure if i wanna sell it though, it's 2 bed 1 bath, might come in handy later.

Tim: I, THE FORMER CEO OF FUCKING WAYNE ENTREPRISES, DOUBLE TRUST FUND BABY, LIVE IN A SHACKLE BOAT, AND YOU, MR. DEAD, HAVE YOUR OWN REAL ESTATE?

Jason: Hm, sounds like a problem. Would you be interested in buying mine for 10M?

Tim: NO!!!

Or, sometimes they decide to meet up in civvies, but only 3 people show up and they're the most random combo ever.

Duke: Hey, have we met?

Terry (McGinnis): I don't think so.

Talia (Kane): None of you have met my brothers, you see, my siblings and mother all broke their promise about having a family night, so i travelled across the multiverse in hopes of acquiring a new home where everyone would actually be welcome.

Duke: Count me in sister, let's go get some ice cream. What's your name?

#batfam #bat family #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #barbara gordon #dick grayson #damian wayne #jason todd #tim drake #duke thomas #terry mcginnis #talia kane #dc comics #bro forgot to include batman in the post so bro sadly cannot tag bruce either #its me im bro #batfam hcs #headcanon

151 notes · View notes

wandaslittlelove · 2 months

Text

Destined Part 1

Warnings for this chapter: None?

Series Masterlist

I sighed as I heard a loud knock on my front door. Grabbing the bag of flour I made my way to the door assuming it was just my neighbor Marcy wanting some for baking again. The girl never seemed to have any and always came over for mine which I didn’t mind. I just started buying more when I would go to the store.

“Marcy hun you should really just-” I froze as I saw Strange on the other side of the door and a young girl stood next to him.

“y/n nice to see you.” He spoke. With a sigh I sat the flour down on the small table by the door before inviting them in.

“Tea?” I asked while making my way into the kitchen as they both followed after me. The young girl politely nodded her head and took a seat at the island along with Strange who sat a very old looking book down on the countertop.

It was silent for a minute. The only sound being me getting down three mugs and the teapot whistling on the stove.

I sat the tea in front of the two along with some sugar as I took to standing across from them.

“What do you need Strange?” My tone came out more bitter than I wanted it to but I couldn’t help it. After I left what remained of the Avengers I had hoped I would never have to see his face or any of theirs ever again. That's why I moved to Ohio so that I would be away from the never ending drama that is New York and to be close to my sister's grave.

“I- We need your help. This Is America Chavez. She’s able to travel the multiverse.” With those words I choked on my tea.

“The multiverse?” I questioned not trusting my ears to have heard the right thing.

“Yes. You know about it?” He asks as he and the girl, America, looked at each other.

“Vision often talked of his theories during movie nights” The word Vision seemed to make me scowl remembering how he got the life with the person I had loved. The person who was supposed to be my wife.

“You said Wanda said the same thing” This was the first time the girl had spoken and the way she said Wanda had made your whole body shiver. It was as if she was scared of the woman.

“You spoke to her?” I hadn’t heard anything of her since that night I left. I expected to at least see something about her on the news but she never came up.

“Yeah. She’s after me. She’s been sending these weird creatures after me to take my powers.” America explained as she fiddled with the mug.

“She has the dark hold y/n” The words caused me to stiffen. I had only heard of the dark hold a few times while I was studying with Strange but I knew it was nothing good. It was described as the book of the damned and anyone who touched it became corrupted. “I need your help in protecting America. Yours and Wanda’s magic are almost complete opposites. While hers is chaos magic while yours is Order magic.” The two shared another look as if they both knew something I didn’t. I watched as Strange opened the book he had brought and flipped to a page. “With the help of the darkhold Wanda has become the Scarlet Witch. Everything anyone had ever known about her is written in this book like a prophecy.” I nodded as I listened to his words. “It also speaks of yours.” He slides the book over to me and setting my tea down I quickly read the page he had opened to.

The Scarlet Witch bringer of chaos and the White Fawn bringer of life and creation:

The Scarlet Witch is not born; she is forged. She has no coven or need for incantation. Her power exceeds that of the Sorcerer Supreme. It is her destiny to destroy the world.

The White Fawn is the opposite of the chaos bringer. She is born to counteract the actions of the Scarlet Witch. Her destiny is to heal the wounds, love, and calm the Chaos Witch.

My eyes scanned the page three more times before I slammed the book shut. I watched as America jumped in her seat and I sent her an apologetic smile as I slid the book back to Strange.

“That can’t be right or it can’t be me. Wanda does not love me. I will not let my destiny be what is written in some book. What is she even after in the multiverse?” My question seemed to keep Strange quiet for a moment before he spoke.

“You”

Tag List: @alexawynters @username23345 @casquinhaa @idontknow-llol

234 notes · View notes

fandomhcs · 2 months

Text

dating wanda maximoff would include:

dating one of the most powerful people in the universe is definitely a trip, let me tell you.

wanda values quality time above most other love languages so expect to be sharing each other’s spaces most of the time. she could spend all of her time reading in the corner with you across the room from her reading or scrolling through your phone.

that said, she loves when you choose to join her in whatever she’s doing. read with her, ask her about whatever magic she’s learning now, or bring her tea and curl up beside her while she’s watching an old sitcom on the couch. she’ll melt.

she loves any kind of date night. whether it’s staying in and ordering pizza or going out to a new restaurant and an arcade, wanda just gets this warm gooey feeling whenever you two get to spend a night with no interruptions. she loves the more stereotypical date nights, the things she’s seen in shows and movies. finally having someone to experience the things she considers normal with is so, so special to her. take her to a movie and a cute dinner, take her dancing, take her stargazing. make her feel like she's in a movie and she'll melt.

wanda is forever grateful to you and thankful for the love you’ve brought into her life. joining the avengers, meeting you, finding control and strength in her powers? at one point in her life everything she has now seemed impossible. for so long it was just her and pietro against the world, now she has a family again. and more than that? she isn’t afraid of her own power.

her powers used to be something she feared. she was terrified to lose control, terrified to learn the limits of her powers. terrified that there may not be limits. but you’ve never once been scared of her. all the things she’s done, all the things she can do, you’ve never shown fear. you trust her, completely. and she has vowed to make sure every single day that your trust in her is never misplaced.

and an upside to that means she’s constantly practicing her magic. the red swirls of her magic are fascinating, and even now you can’t help but stare as a book hovers in the air before her while wanda’s hands are occupied cooking dinner. her magic is beautiful, no matter what the rest of the world may say.

you’ll catch her meditating three feet in the air, magic curling around her gently weaving itself through her hair. can’t reach something on a high shelf? you can hear wanda giggle at your struggle before whatever you need is floating towards you. cleaning is a breeze when your girlfriend can levitate the couch while you sweep the dust bunnies out from under it.

wanda does try to stay out of your head, though. she refuses to abuse your privacy and read your mind without consent. she struggles with this when she hears you having a nightmare at night, or whenever you won’t come to her with a problem. but she never breaks, instead forcing herself to be patient with you and let you come to her when you can. and you do, once you’re ready. there is nothing you could ever tell her about your fears, your pain, your anger that would ever make her feel any differently about you. whatever you think of yourself, wanda sees you as you are. she sees your faults, yes. but she sees the good in you above everything else. whenever you may feel insecure, she’s right beside you with a warm hug and constant reassurance.

you both balance each other. on your bad days, wanda is right there to comfort you however you need. and you do the same for her. both of you keep an eye on each other, boost each other’s spirits on your bad days, and remind each other that you two are a team. no matter what may come, you two are on each other’s side.

the cabin she has in multiverse of madness? that's her ideal home with you. a warm, inviting place the two of you can fill with plants and books. something cozy and hidden away from the rest of the world. she'd be free to practice her magic away from prying eyes, plus having a garden or an orchard is a dream of hers.

however, if you're stuck in an apartment? wanda will make it a home for you. she'll find cool art to post up on your walls, intricate tapestries that she could stare at for hours. candles and knick knacks, little trinkets bought on your dates together. she'd love to decorate a space with you, to make it reflect both of your personalities.

just?? build a home with her. build a future, build a family. it's all she wants, really. she wants a life with you more than anything else in the world, even more than being a hero. she'd rather live a comfortable, peaceful life with you.

#wanda maximoff x reader #scarlet witch x reader #wanda maximoff headcanons #wanda maximoff hcs #hcs #dwi

168 notes · View notes

ghostflowerhotpotch · 3 months

Text

You know? If you think about it, slang and memes are probably different across the multiverse.

Have you see it how adults complain not understanding what teens said these days? Well now is the entire Spider-Society because despite the (probably) great population of teens the vastness of the multiverse makes for jokes and memes to transfer.

Pavitr literally needs to not only translate memes, he basically needs to do an entire background explanation to almost anyone. Perhaps with other spiders he defaults to jokes about "Fuck England" because people being angry at England seems to appear to be a very common thing across the multiverse.

Because the closeness on time periods, Peni and Margo constantly sent each other memes in "4D" technology. Miles saw one and stared at the wall for 20 minutes trying to understand what the hell he just saw.

Hobbie uses cockney slang which already means he will probably need to explain himself a lot, but if is true that he is from 70s (I don't remember if this was someone's hc or a theory) a lot of his jokes are mostly local to his area already because there is no internet, probably less if his universe is anything close to the dystopian hellscapse it is in the comics.

Noir would deadass, need multiple lingo dictionaries because being from the 40s definitely means he needs A LOT of explanations to most of anything.

Miles was a bit disappointed when he tried to show a meme to Gwen and she didn't get it, but after realizing how he barely understand memes from his other spidey friends, he felt a lot better to realize in general the sense of humour between their universes is pretty similar.

Technically Peter counts on that front as well, but he insists he doesn't understand teenage these days and lets these two to it; mostly just to let the lovebirds alone.

Miles and Gwen argue their universes are the only ones where the sense of humour is not broken and have the "Good memes alliance" which everybody else calls "they are having non-dates that they call association meetings because they are impossible."

These entire debacle started with someone saying "YEEEET" "Bro that meme is like 2 years ago" "2? Try 6" "The fuck are you talking about? That was part of my media class on memes" "DUDE YOU ARE SUPPOSE TO SAY 'YEEEZ'" And the rest is history.

#atsv #across the spiderverse #ghostflower #miles morales #pavitr prabhakar #margo kess #peni parker #hobie brown #gwen stacy #peter parker noir #peter b parker #atsv headcanons #headcanons #ghostflower headcanons #this was fun

287 notes · View notes

maraschinomerry · 2 months

Text

Rock Paper Scissors

Pairings: George Karim x gn!reader, background Locklyle

Summary: George is your best friend, Lucy's convinced there's more to it but he's not your type... is he?

Content: friends to lovers, oblivious flirting, misunderstanding, light swearing and suggestive thoughts, kisses

A/N: it's officially 1 year since I posted my first Lockwood & Co fic!! Thank you all for making it such an incredible year and continuing to support my writing, it means the world to me ❤️ and thank you to the Multiverse of George for fuelling the buff!George fire 🔥 I've even made a montage so everyone can see the vision, plus the gif above of George swinging the chains he's definitely strong 💪

Word count: 4.2k

Taglist: @neewtmas @marinalor @ettadear @honey-with-tea @mischiefmanaged71 (let me know if you want adding or removing!)

Ever since you'd started working for Lockwood & Co, you and George had had the most playful rivalry.

It had started on the very first day, when you came for your interview. Lucy had welcomed you into the living room while George went to fetch the biscuits. After breezing through the tests, Lockwood gestured to the plate still being clutched by the other boy.

“Biscuit?”

You frowned at the boy in the armchair, who looked like the last thing he wanted to do was to share. “Am I supposed to fight you for them or something?”

George had the audacity to snort. “In your dreams.” But then he did offer you the plate, albeit reluctantly.

Once you got used to one another, you found that you actually got on really well and gradually he became your best friend, but by then you'd set a precedent that neither of you wanted to drop.

“We're heading out soon,” Lucy informed you both as she slid cups of tea across the table. She and Lockwood had an appointment with a client, leaving you and George behind to keep working. “Can one of you oil the chains ready for tonight?”

You turned to George; he was already looking at you. A gleam came to his eye.

“Rock paper scissors?”

“You bet,” you grinned, already raising your hand. It took a few attempts, as you'd done it so many times by now that the two of you knew what each other was planning before it happened, but eventually you lost. Sticking your tongue out, you picked up your cup and headed towards the basement. Lucy followed you down.

“Can I ask you something?” she began cautiously.

“Course you can.” It wasn't like Lucy to not just ask straight out. This was odd.

“What's going on with you and George?” This was definitely odd. “It feels like you've gone past teasing, you're almost flirting with each other.”

Your gaze flew to your friend, who had lingered on the stairs. Was she being serious? “It's not like that, Luce,” you replied, wondering if it was warm in the basement or if it was just you. “I love him to bits, but the same way I love all of you. He's just not my type.”

Her eyebrow quirked up at that. “You have a type?”

“Don't say that like you don't,” you hit back. “You and Lockwood are made for each other! And George is great, really, but I prefer guys a bit more… buff?”

Lucy nodded. “Interesting.” It was spoken with the air of someone who knew exactly why it was interesting and someone who was absolutely not going to explain why. “Well… just don't rule anything out, but please be careful. I love you both too and I'd hate to see either of you get hurt.”

It was touching to hear her so candid about her feelings for you both. “I won't, I promise.”

—

You always forgot how ridiculously heavy the chains were. Just trying to hoist them up to make sure you'd oiled all the way round each joint was a workout. It was only adrenaline that carried you through working with them on cases. Thank goodness you were almost finished - your arms were beginning to ache and you were sure you were coated in sweat.

“Need a hand?” George's voice drifted from the stairs. You hadn't heard him come down, probably drowned out by the clanking links and your strained grunts, but there he was, sitting on one of the lower steps and watching you in amusement.

“You mean you want me to dishonour the sacred pact of rock paper scissors?” You mimed fainting in shock, taking the opportunity to slump back on the pile of chains and let the tension dissipate from your shoulders.

He chuckled, climbing down the final few steps and holding out his hand. “Will the sacred pact allow a lunch break? I made soup.” He'd got you there and he knew it. You loved his soup. Grinning, you accepted his hand and he pulled you away from the cold, hard metal.

There were two steaming bowls already set out on the table when you got back to the kitchen, and beside yours was a plate of sandwiches, cut exactly how you liked them.

“You're the best.”

“I know,” George smirked. He was eating with one hand, the other scribbling away on the Thinking Cloth. As he became more engrossed, he leant further forwards, his dark curls flopping over his brow. It was fascinating watching him get so engrossed in his work, the whole world melting away around him. Once you finished eating, you glanced across and took his empty bowl from in front of him. He looked up sharply, snapped from wherever his thoughts had taken him.

“Sorry, didn't mean to disturb you,” you mumbled.

“No, it's fine. We should probably get packed.”

You followed him down to the basement and pulled your kit bags from the shelf. Set side by side on the table, you both began to load up.

“You can carry the chains,” you told him over your shoulder as you picked up a half-empty box of flares and emptied it into your bag.

“Hey, you're the one who lost!”

“Only for cleaning them, I've done my bit.”

He huffed, but gave you a smile as he made his way over to the mound of chains. Your eyes widened as he scooped up a whole length in one easy movement and gave them a quick shake loose. You'd spent nearly quarter of an hour trying to manoeuvre that section earlier.

“How the hell did you do that?”

“They're not that heavy,” he shrugged, then added with a cheeky raised eyebrow, “or at least only when you’re trying to clean them.”

You threw the empty cardboard box at his head with a laugh.

—

A week later, the four of you were nestled in the living room. Outside, rain battered against the windows, which were almost being shaken out of their frames by the driving wind. You'd never have guessed it was June; it felt more like January. The fire was lit in the hearth, the occasional crackle of wood splitting the only other sound.

Eventually, Lockwood broke the silence. “I hate to say it, but someone's going to have to go out. We've got no tea left and barely enough food to last until tonight. We can draw straws to make it fair.”

He needn't have bothered. You and George already had your fists raised. One, two, three, paper. One, two, three, rock. Scissors. Paper. Scissors. Rock. Round and round you went, the symmetry only fuelling your competitive natures.

“This is ridiculous,” Lucy muttered. She was right, of course.

You raised your fist higher, leaning forward in an offered challenge. “Right. Arm wrestle. Loser goes.”

George leaned in, resting his elbow on the table. Lockwood and Lucy exchanged wide-eyed glances.

“Y/n…” Lucy began, but you weren't listening. Your elbow was already mirroring George's, hand in his. You weren't sure why you'd expected the easy, flexible grip of holding a rapier, but his fingers were clenched firmly around the back of your hand. Lockwood moved closer and counted you down.

Your hand hit the table almost immediately.

It felt like all the air had left the room. You stared in shock at the boy opposite, the triumphant toothy grin that crinkled his eyes, the unexpected tightness of his shirt sleeve around his arm. The similar tightness in your chest. Interesting.

Some sort of realisation hit you, and your attention shifted to Lucy. The look she was giving you was almost as satisfied as George's. Warmth flooded your cheeks. You drew in a shaky breath as you struggled to drag your eyes away from George's arm, which was still pinning yours to the table. After a moment, you felt his fingers loosen and with some reluctance pulled your hand away. The silence in the room was palpable. Lucy was still watching you in amusement. Lockwood was watching Lucy, trying to figure out why she had that “I know something you don't” look again over a simple arm wrestle. George was watching you too, his expression slowly shifting from victory to concern.

“Y/n? You okay?” he asked quietly. Your thoughts rushed back into your body, snapping your attention into the real world.

“All good,” you mumbled. “Just preparing to get drenched. If I'm not back in 20 minutes, assume I've been blown to the other end of the country.” At least that got a laugh out of Lockwood. Hurriedly, you stood and made your way to the front door. Why had you agreed to this? It was your own fault, of course, for continuing this whole competitive thing with George, but how were you to know he was that strong? A flash of bicep clouded your vision again, and you reached for the door handle before you did something regrettable.

“Hold on,” a voice came behind you. It was him. Keep it together, you told yourself.

“If you're about to volunteer to take my place, go ahead,” you forced yourself to stay casual.

George moved closer, and you swallowed a lump in your throat. “I was actually going to question why you looked like you were about to leave without a coat.” He reached to the rack over your shoulder, lifting yours from its hook.

“That might help.” You knew you were blushing again, but prayed he thought it was just from embarrassment at being so forgetful. Definitely not how close he was, how he was holding your coat in the same hand that had been holding yours moments ago.

—

By the time you made it back to the house, you were soaked to the bone and almost shivering. It seemed like the storm wasn't going to let up until at least the next day, so you'd decided to stock up on plenty of food which had seemed like a great idea until you tried to carry it all home. You'd had to stop several times on the way, ducking into doorways and bus shelters to escape the weather as you swapped hands, flexed your shoulders or relieved your fingers from where the handles of the bags had started to make dents. When you finally made it, you held the door open with one foot as you negotiated the bags in and dropped them unceremoniously on the hall floor. George emerged from the living room, alone this time; Lockwood and Lucy must have gone upstairs or down to the basement.

“You look awful.”

“Aww thanks, you're not so bad yourself,” you joked dryly. Oh god, Lucy was right, you were almost flirting. A shiver ran through you and this time you hoped it was from the cold.

For a second, you thought you saw George's eyelids flutter. “Well, I uh… I ran you a bath to warm you back up. I'll put this away.” He hauled up the bags of shopping with barely a huff, and you tried to reason that he hadn't just carried them through a storm.

The water was soothingly warm and scented with lavender salts, the smell wafting up in delicate bursts as it swirled around, relaxing all the tension in your aching muscles. As you lay peacefully, you reflected on what had happened earlier. You weren't sure you'd ever felt… You couldn't even identify what feelings you'd experienced during the arm wrestle. Shock? Embarrassment? No. It was something else, something that Lucy had noticed immediately and had been trying to get through to your oblivious self. But she was wrong, wasn't she? You said it yourself, you weren't into George, even if he did now fulfil your main criteria. Then again, so did plenty of other guys you'd met. Kipps was quite well built, definitely had muscles, but that didn't mean you'd considered dating him. He wasn't like George though - smart, funny, thoughtful George. You couldn't imagine Kipps running you a bath or making your favourite lunch, or doing any number of the things that with George felt so natural. And there were all the little things you did for him that you'd never do for anyone else. No, there were no two ways about it: you were a pair in whatever capacity that meant.

Still didn't mean you fancied him, you told yourself.

You volunteered to help George with the dishes after dinner that night. It was always nice to be able to spend time just the two of you in sync, but tonight especially you figured it was a good idea to be around him in perfectly normal circumstances. You'd chat or enjoy the companionable quiet, you'd both be at ease; nothing could possibly happen, which would give you time to prove your feelings were a fluke.

George picked up his blue rubber gloves and tossed you a tea towel. He was dressed casually, in sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt (so large that the sleeves almost met his gloves at the elbow). The radio was playing quietly in the background, giving you a welcome distraction. Whenever a song you recognised came on, you'd start humming along or singing under your breath, and George would smile at you, sometimes even joining in. Your heart leapt a bit when he did, but that was nothing, you were just happy to be sharing this moment with your friend. He stuck an arm deeper into the sink to grab something at the bottom and made a small noise. Water had splashed up onto the cuff of his sleeve. You giggled at the look of disgust he made at the wet fabric sticking to his skin. The sound died in your throat when he took off his gloves, draped them on the side of the sink and rolled his sleeves up out of the way. You were so used to him being hidden behind his giant tops, or at the very least being in longer sleeved shirts, that seeing his bicep completely exposed was a shock in more ways than one. It wasn't much wonder he'd beaten you so easily at arm wrestling with muscles like that. You wondered whether it was just his arms that were so toned, or was the rest of him the same? Was he hiding a set of abs under that T-shirt too? Were his thighs-

“You okay?” George nudged you, and you hastily looked away.

“I was just…” Come on, come on, find an excuse, your brain urged. “...thinking how this means we both got wet clothes today, if you want me to put that top in with my washing after this?” God that was lame. Not much wonder he wasn't interested in you. That wasn't the point, you reminded yourself.

“Oh,” he smiled. “That'd be great, thanks.” He leant over to put a chopping board on the draining rack, and his bicep brushed against yours. A shockwave of warmth resonated through your whole body. Oh.

“Tell you what,” you forced yourself not to stammer, “are you okay to finish up here and I'll go and grab the laundry basket?” He nodded, and you tried not to fall over your own feet as you retreated to the hallway and sucked in a breath to calm your racing heart. Oh.

—

You cursed yourself for ever starting this. No, this was Lucy's fault for pointing it out. No, still your fault.

Being around George was becoming unbearable. Not for anything he'd done, rather the things he wasn't doing. He was carrying on exactly as he always had, that inimitable blend of playful and caring, and it was driving you mad not knowing whether he meant any of it in the way you wanted him to. You couldn't say anything, of course. If you were wrong, it would mess up the whole dynamic of the group. That would hurt almost as much as any rejection. But the more things went on, the more you took notice of the little moments between you, the more your feelings grew until it felt like they would crawl out of your chest.

“What the hell were you thinking?” George snapped at Lockwood. He and Lucy had been out on a case which went badly, and now the four of you were sitting at the dining table in the early hours, George applying butterfly stitches to a cut on Lockwood's arm and you cleaning a couple of scratches on Lucy's face. The misty gloom of the night outside the window reflected the atmosphere within.

“I was thinking,” Lockwood snapped back, “that we only had to handle a couple of Type Ones, according to your notes.”

“I told you those weren't finished!”

“Well maybe next time, don't get distracted.” Was it your imagination, or had his gaze flickered to you?

“Maybe next time,” George replied darkly, “do your own research.”

“Fine.” Lockwood pushed his chair back and stalked from the room. Lucy shot you both an apologetic grimace and followed.

George began pacing round the kitchen, hands twitching angrily. You stayed at the table, knowing it was best to give him the space to say or do whatever he needed to let his feelings out. You were there if he needed you.

“Can you believe him?” It was rhetorical, you'd heard him say it enough to know, so you waited for him to continue. “We end up in this situation almost every week, because he's too reckless to wait! I know he'd rather be in the action, but he'd be able to do all that more if he'd let me give him the right information first.”

You gently waded in, trying to be reassuring. “We all know how useful your research is; he just gets overeager, especially when Lucy's involved.”

“I know you know how important it is,” his words sent butterflies through you, “but Lockwood just…” He gave a frustrated huff. “Maybe I should make him do all the legwork for a change.” You tried very hard not to think about whether George's legs were as muscular as his arms.

“I'll support whatever you decide, but for what it's worth I think you should just talk to him.”

He sighed heavily, placing his hands flat on the table and allowing his head to drop. “You're right. Thanks, y/n.” The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, as did his deep brown eyes as he raised his head to look at you. You were already distracted by the tension which lingered in his shoulders, the rigidity of his arms as they supported his weight, the way he had leaned into the pose so much that now when he looked up his face was so close it almost filled your vision. You swallowed nervously.

“Any time. I- I have to go.” You stumbled up from your chair, ignoring George's confused stare and sounds of protest as you practically bolted from the room.

—

You lay on your bed in the attic, tears slowly soaking into the pillow you'd buried your face in. This was the end; it had to be. You couldn't carry on working for the agency like this. If George had shown any interest it would be okay - Lockwood and Lucy managed to balance being a couple who worked and lived together, there was no reason you two couldn't do the same, but it could never work being so one-sided. You'd just keep being weird, struggling to hold your nerve around the boy until it would start bleeding into cases and Lockwood would have no choice but to fire you for everyone's safety, if you hadn't already got one of you hurt by then. Not to mention the emotional hurt. It would happen either way, but at least if you walked away now you could control it.

“Y/n?” Lucy's voice came tentatively from the bottom of the steps. “George said you ran off, is everything okay?”

You flipped onto your back, drawing in shuddering breaths to recover from almost suffocating in the pillow. “You were right, Luce.” There was movement on the steps, but you kept your eyes on the ceiling. You couldn't bear to look at anyone right now. “I tried so hard to make sure neither of us got hurt, but George doesn't love me back and now I feel like even if I stay I'm going to lose him.”

The silence that followed dragged on longer than you could bear. Why wasn't she saying anything? You forced yourself to sit up.

George stood at the entrance to your room, eyes wide and lips parted.

You scrambled to your feet. “Shit! I mean, hi, um… how long have you been there?”

George continued to stare.

“I'm so sorry,” the words were rushing out of you now, “I just panicked but I don't want to make things weird so can we just pretend-”

“What do you mean, ‘doesn't love me back'?” he interrupted quietly.

You froze. There was no mistaking it: he'd heard you basically say you loved him and now there he was looking like the mere concept was so unbelievable, like the option hadn't even crossed his mind. Why would it? Time stretched on as you fought the urge to run again, as far as the ever-widening space between you would allow. Neither of you had moved, but you could feel the room expanding around you to make room for the bottomless pit you wanted to crawl into. “I…” you drew in a slow, deep breath, “I was fine just being friends but Lucy got in my head about you being exactly my type and now I think I'm actually flirting while you're still just pretending and I'm sorry…” Tears were pricking at the corners of your eyes and you hurriedly looked away, hoping he wouldn't see.

George stepped closer, and you shrunk even further into yourself. Your heart skipped a beat when he gently tilted your chin up to meet his surprisingly soft gaze. “I meant, why do you think I don't love you back?”

You faltered. Was he saying what you thought he was? “Well, I mean, I thought I'd made things super obvious and awkward but you didn't change so I thought you weren't interested.”

George's hand was still on your chin and his thumb rubbed soothingly across your cheek, wiping away the single tear that had spilled. “I thought you weren't interested! You normally go for those muscly gym guys so I figured I'd take whatever I could get with the arm wrestles and stuff, but then you started avoiding me so I thought you were done with it.”

A small laugh escaped you, and he looked at you in confusion. “Have you seen yourself?” Hesitantly, you raised a hand to his bicep, marvelling at finally being able to feel the muscle instead of just staring at it, and more amazed at the way the boy responded to your touch, drifting closer until you were barely inches apart.

“So then why did you run?” His voice was whisper soft against your face, eyes gazing down at you with an overwhelming blend of sincerity, bewilderment and something like longing. His cheeks were tinted as pink as you knew yours were.

“Got flustered.”

“Flustered? You? I don't believe you.” A smile tugged at the edge of his lips, the playfulness you were used to creeping back into his voice. It was such a relief to feel the tension dissipating from the room, to have your George back, that you buried your head in his shoulder with a giggle. He laughed too, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Oh, I see, you really want to do this? Okay, let's see ‘flustered y/n’ at their best.”

You yelped in surprise as his other arm hooked under your legs and swept you off your feet, your arms flying up round his neck for support. His arm was tense across your back but he looked the most relaxed he'd been since he walked in, and he shifted you closer to press a quick kiss to your lips before setting you down on the bed and sitting beside you.

“Lucy's going to be very smug about this, you know,” he nudged you.

“I know,” you whined, burying your face in your hands. “Rock paper scissors for who has to tell her.” George laughed again and placed his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer as you leant into the embrace.

“Is this just a ploy to get more hugs?”

“Is it working?”

In response, he brought his other arm around your waist and kissed your forehead. You smiled, leaning up to kiss him properly, and he reciprocated eagerly.

—

Lucy had left George alone on the steps to your room once you started your confession, giving you both a bit of privacy, and decided when he didn't come back downstairs immediately that things had either gone very badly or very well. She believed, and hoped, that it was the latter. Her suspicions were confirmed when she came to tell you she'd made breakfast and found you fast asleep, wrapped in George's arms.

#george karim x reader #lockwood & co #lockwood and co fanfiction #george karim #gn!reader #multiverse of george #buff!george

151 notes · View notes