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ichorai · 11 months

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snow spider ; miguel o'hara.

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

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

words ; 4.4k

themes ; fluff, slight angst

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

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

main masterlist.

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

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

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

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

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

A beat of silence.

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

You took a step back. “My universe…?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But you’re hurt.”

“I’ll heal.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The months pass by in a blur.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then there was you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked.

“What?”

Peter froze, realizing what he’d just said.

“What?” he parroted.

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

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

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

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

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

Miguel was crazy about you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oka—mmph!”

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

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

“He was right,” said Miguel.

“Who was?”

“Peter. I do have feelings for you.”

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

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

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

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

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

He was falling in love with you.

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

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

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fangswbenefits · 11 months

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Memories

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: You are ready to tell Miguel he is going to be a father… but he isn’t.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

Hurt/comfort. Fluff. I teared up writing this and figured I needed someone else to share the pain with me :D

“Miguel.”

You looked on as the man before your eyes paused the video on the hovering screen.

“It’s late,” he said in a low voice, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “Did something happen?”

The lump in your throat was hard to swallow at first as you realised he was once again replaying old memories. Miguel O’Hara was stuck in the past while trying to preserve the future.

“I have something to tell you.”

You had considered waiting until he got back home, but you needed to let it all out now.

He turned to fully face you and stepped from the platform. The closer he got to you, the more you felt your anxiety soaring.

“Did something happen?” He repeated, planting a soft kiss to your forehead. “You should be home.”

This is what Miguel did. He took care of others. He couldn’t help it, even if his lifelong concern got in between the two of you.

Or three, you should say.

“I wanted to tell you now,” you smiled briefly as you took his hand in yours while taking a deep breath. “I’m pregnant.”

His red eyes widened slightly and then… nothing.

He merely stood there as if frozen in time, the grip on your hand slowly faltering.

“You’re not going to say anything?”

“How?”

You arched an eyebrow. “Really? You’re asking me how?”

“No! I mean…” he shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “When did you find out?”

“Today.”

Giving your hand a final squeeze he let go, his warmth suddenly vanishing.

“Huh… I thought…” your next words died in your mouth and your heart dropped.

Seeing him walk up the platform steps left you speechless. You thought he wanted this… to rebuild the life that he lost.

Tears began to sting your eyes, but you refused to let a single one stream down your face.

A video of his daughter giggling and running around started playing and you saw him clenching his fists. Her giggles echoed through the room breaking the silence that had settled.

“Miguel O’hara, look at me!”

Had this been a mistake? Maybe he wasn’t ready. Maybe you two had rushed things.

“Miguel,” you called out again, anger filling you with such intensity you felt like shooting your webs at his back to have him turn around. “I’m carrying your child. Look at me!”

The cheeky giggles stopped at once and nothing could have prepared you for what came next.

Miguel did what you asked and that’s when you saw a single tear running down his hardened face.

In that moment, your anger shattered and the overwhelming need to take care of him took over.

You promptly joined him on the platform, burying your face in his broad chest. His arms circled you in a tight embrace, and you remained silent for a while.

“I’m broken.”

“Miguel… don’t…”

He heaved a deep sigh. “You deserve better.”

It wasn’t easy to go through his insecurities with him. He had built a wall around him that kept people out.

“I can’t forget her…”

Miguel O’hara had once been responsible for the destruction of

“I don’t want to forget her!” he nearly yelled, pulling you away from his embrace as his red eyes flickered with hurt. “I don’t… I don’t want to move on without the memory of her…”

You brought both hands to frame his face. “Miguel, I am not asking that of you… she will always be part of you.”

He refused to look you in the eye, his jaw tensing.

“I thought you wanted this…” you whispered, voice cracking.

“I do.”

You felt like crumbling down inside. “I thought you’d be happy.”

Miguel’s eyes met yours. “I am.”

“Then…”

He shook his head. “You don’t get it. I’ve been telling myself I’m worthy of a second chance for a long time. I tell that to myself every single day,” he paused momentarily to place a large hand on your belly. “But maybe I am wrong. I’ll mess this up, too.”

Your hand came to rest atop his and you offered a kind smile. “You won’t. You’re still healing. You need—”

All of a sudden both hands came to grip your arms and that’s when you saw panic splattered across his face.

“You don’t get it! I can’t lose you,” he said, eyes darting from your face to your belly. “I do all of this, because I owe an unrepayable debt. My mistake cost the lives of so many. And I’m being selfish again…”

“You don’t get it, do you?” You suddenly said, breaking free from his grip. “Why do you think I chose to be with you? To build a family with you? You’re the most honourable person I know,” you added, not able to hold back a few tears. “Yes, you made a mistake,” his face hardened. “But you paid for it. You paid the highest price.”

He was getting ready to interrupt you, but you raised your hand. “You’re going to be a father again and don’t have to forget her. She lives in you and in all that you do.”

“What would I do without you?” he finally spoke.

You chuckled, placing the softed kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You’d probably set camp here in this room, and live the rest of your lives as a hermit.”

Miguel silently glared at you and when he got down on one knee, you felt all the love and adoration for him crashing down on you.

“You’re going to have an amazing mother,” he whispered softly before placing a kiss over your shirt.

Your fingers tangled in his thick brown hair before pressing the side if his face flat against your belly. “And you’ll the best father.”

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099

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dilfsfordinner · 10 months

Text

Escarmiento: Part Two- Miguel O’hara x fem!spider reader

a/n- i have no clue how his fangs or venom work, but just pretend like how i wrote it makes sense. also, this is very long but i didn’t want to write three parts :^

warnings- smut, predator/prey dynamics, spanking, edging, degradation, explicit language, size kink, biting, paralytic venom, mean/rough sex, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, creampie, aftercare, soft miggy after he realizes he was an ass

translations at the bottom!

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Colors flashed in your peripheral as you darted alongside Miles, your arms burning from the amount of swings you had to pull off, just to get some distance between the hundreds of people around you.

Sure, running may not have been the smartest thing to do, but, you did have a plan. It wasn’t the easiest to pull off, and you’d probably end up being berated by Miguel, but Miles was your priority, and your husband was usually a sane man when it came to you. Usually.

As if he wanted to prove your logic wrong, Miguel’s yells rang from behind you, his voice laced with pure anger as you slipped from his grasp a multitude of times. You were both very fast, but he was a monster. It was like trying to escape death, his claws almost catching your suit, the image of his fangs gleaming in your memories.

“Miles!” you yelled to the boy swinging a few feet ahead of you, his body stalling for you to sync with his movements. “We’ll draw them out-” you panted, your surroundings becoming familiar, recognizable to the entrance of headquarters, “-and when they’re gone, get to the machine, and go home.”

Web after web shot at you, red and blue of all kinds clouding your vision as you maneuvered around gloved hands and swinging limbs. “Y/n,” that familiar voice shouted again, trying to pull your attention away from the obstacles in front of you. “Stop running-” you heard Miguel growl under his breath, the ear splitting sound of shredding steel hitting your senses as he literally tore through walls to get to you.

He had never ever scared you before, but with his feral strength directed at you instead of a casual villain, true fear coaxed its way through your veins. You were his prey. That’s the thought that repeatedly flashed in your mind. He was hunting you and there was inevitably, no escape.

Flicking your wrist, your webbing shot to the upper beams above the training area, pulling you through the air, a panicking Miles right at your side. That particular choice was probably not the best decision, a horde of waiting spider people coming into sight as soon as you appeared through the floor.

Interrupting the frozen crowd, two glowing webs broke through the air to pull a very rage filled Miguel up after you, your feet stepping back to scurry in the opposite direction towards the glistening wall of windows. You could feel him right at your heels, his breathing ragged, a whoosh of air hitting your back, the only explanation being his claws trying to swipe at you.

Dropping into a perch-like position, you ducked a particularly harsh swing, Miguel’s body already moving too fast to stop, his large form smashing through a lower window. Miles went right along with him, leaving you to a room of people just itching to please their boss. That was until your foot was pulled from under you, a familiar web wrapped around your ankle pulling your body to the floor and out the shattered window.

You’d never gotten used to free falling, your stomach wound in knots as the air whipped past you, your wrist helplessly flailing to find some kind of structure to attach to. The web stuck to your ankle was tugged, harshly, pulling you down towards none other than your husband.

Miles was lone gone, his own fleet of spiders chasing him down, leaving you to fend for yourself. Shooting your web to a passing car, your body was caught between two forces, Miguel watching as you cried out in pain, a frustrated groan leaving his lips as he cut his web loose, letting you go. You knew that’d make him buckle, see, he didn’t want to hurt you, no, he just wanted to catch you.

Slinging to the flying car, you were glued to the roof, eyes peeled to search for Miles, your sense lighting up at the sound of Miguel hurling himself from car to car to get to you. A yelp left your lips as two sets of web-patterned arms wrapped around you, one set grabbing your legs to pin you, the other holding your midriff, squeezing all the air from your lungs. Your legs helplessly kicked against them, body bucking in their hold to get away until a rough yell resounded. “Leave her,” Miguel shouted, his fangs extending, eyes tracking their hold on you. “Ella es mía.”

Squirming out of their grasp, you swung to the train-like contraption holding the roadway, Miguel’s suit in your peripheral, his form hurtling towards you, leaving no room to escape. You landed first, crawling along the top of the silver train, Miguel’s claws scratching behind, tearing the metal in their wake.

“Miguel, please-” you panted, your eyes wide as they looked down at him, his mask dissolving to reveal crimson eyes and furrowed eyebrows set on you. “He’s just a kid,” you pleaded, your muscles aching with exhaustion as you climbed away from him. A growl left the lips of your lover, his unbeaten endurance still strong, claws pulling him right towards you and your struggling form.

His hand closed around your ankle, pulling you down until his arms caged you, your back was pressed to his broad chest, hands pinned down by his own, preventing you from using your webs. “All you had to do was listen,” he muttered in your ear, a pained gasp leaving your lips as four sharp prongs sank into your neck, his fangs burying themselves into your skin. Warm liquid flowed from them, eliciting a burning sensation throughout your limbs that slowly turned into numbness.

You could still talk and move, albeit barely, most likely because your husband didn’t want you completely paralyzed, but you couldn’t escape his grasp, his strong arms lifting you until you were slung over his shoulder, lax limbs completely subject to his movements.

“Lyla, send everyone after Miles,” his voice was gruff as he swung off the train, you in one arm, his weight carried by a web in the other, “I’ll handle her.”

———

By the time the paralytic venom wore off, you found yourself at the door of your shared bedroom, Miguel grabbing you from his shoulder and pushing you inside, your legs wobbling slightly from the strange sensation. Shutting it suspiciously lightly, Miguel rested his forehead against the cold panels of the door, your weak legs already positioning you at the other end of the room.

“Miguel, I- I was just trying to help..”

His body went taut at your words, his back rigid, muscles shifting as he turned to look at you. You almost cowered at the sight of him, his eyes a deeper red than you’ve ever seen, his lips pulling back to reply, revealing four-sharp teeth still extended.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he snapped, his pupils dilating into a deep black, almost consuming his whole iris. “All you needed to do was listen to me, and you went and disobeyed a direct order.”

“You’re my husband, not my master..” you muttered under your breath, his breath catching at your little retort, anger lacing his features. “He’s just a kid, Miguel, you’re being too harsh.”

“Harsh..?” He went still at your words, an exasperated laugh leaving his lips as his eyebrows rose. “I’ll show you harsh,” he said under his breath, shoulders squaring to show his full height, long legs making their way to you in easy strides. Your mouth went dry at his words, feet stepping carefully to back away from him, his approaching steps pushing you further and further until your back hit the wall.

“Miguel wait-” your words were cut off as his large hand closed around your wrist, wrenching you towards the bed, your heels digging into the ground. With a battle of limbs, you found yourself atop his knees, your stomach pressing against his strong legs, his fingers gently caressing your bottom. Your hips wiggled, legs struggling to get away at the implication of his hand. “You can’t run now, cariño,” he growled, sharp claws cutting through the fabric of your suit exposing your ass and legs to his preying eyes.

Long fingers hooked under the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down to reveal your soft skin, fingers tracing every inch, his touch disappearing for a second before returning in the form of a harsh slap, a yelp leaving your lips at the scorching sensation blooming along your bottom.

His hand continued its assault, your legs shaking in his hold. “Poca pucha, just couldn’t listen could you,” he gritted out, palm smacking and smacking relentlessly until your ass was flaming red, choked cries spewing from your lips as you pleaded for him to stop.

He didn’t listen though, every spank leaving a new mark on your skin, red handprints painting your bottom half as your hands clawed at his ankles. “M-Miguel please! I’m s-sorry,” you squirmed, hips bucking until he landed a particularly rough slap against your skin. “Stay still,” he grunted, hands pushing your hips down as he repeatedly spanked you, tears rolling down your cheeks and onto his lap.

You were hiccuping now, so distressed your cries caught in your throat, your bottom raw and red, so sore it stung, the feeling of fire consuming you with even the smallest touch. His hand relented when he heard you muttering ‘i’m sorry’ like a mantra, the rough pads of his fingers gently massaging your inflamed bottom.

Miguel tutted at your soft cries, rubbing your skin as his other hand spread your legs. “Mírate-” he whispered, fingers dipping to scoop up your liquids, spreading your folds, “puta chorrea.” Without any preparation, he stuffed two fingers into your cunt, a choked gasp leaving your lips as he immediately started to curl his fingers into you, throwing you straight into the grasps of pleasure it was almost painful.

His thick fingers nudged at every pleasurable spot inside of you, your walls sucking him in greedily despite your current distaste of your husband. Every curl and poke elicited a whine from you, your body shivering as it neared climax, cunt pulsing around his fingers as a tell tale sign. Before you could release, Miguel pulled his fingers from you, large hands grabbing your waist to throw you on the bed.

You couldn’t even process the loss of pleasure before he was tearing the rest of your suit off and pushing your back into an impossible arch, your inflamed ass stuck in the air as his hands grabbed onto your hips. “Wait Mig-” all air was pushed out of your lungs as he sheathed himself in you with one thrust, the stretch causing a burn to ignite in your cunt.

His palm never left your back as he thrusted in and out at a brutal pace, soft groans leaving his lips, his strong legs slamming into the back of your thighs. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, your mewls and pleas muffled by the pillow Miguel shoved your face into, his fingers cradling the crown of your head to keep you still.

His cock was so thick and long, you felt it hit an unknown area every time he pushed into you, and without normal foreplay, the stretch was insane. Your walls pulsed with the struggle to take him, the ring of muscles at the entrance of your cunt visible as it wrapped around his shaft to suck him in.

Caught up in pleasure himself, Miguel leaned down to cage you in his arms, chest pressed to your back in a primal, animal-like position, his muscled arms placed on both sides of your head, hips never relenting with their intense thrusts.

“Too harsh, arañita?” he whispered into your ear, his teeth pulling at your earlobe, lips sucking at your neck as you trembled beneath him, your voice too hoarse from crying to respond. Heavy balls slapped against your cunt, Miguel’s thrusts becoming harder as you recognized his own tells of an orgasm. His ab muscles rippled against your back, his claws started to emerge, his breathing turned ragged, and he always kissed somewhere on your body, this time being your shoulder.

Groaning into the nook of your shoulder and neck, Miguel released inside of you, thick, hot ropes of cum painting every inch of your cunt, his hips stuttering to push every last drop into you while you tipped over the edge, your climax small and sudden, cunt sucking his juices in as you released your own, clenching around his spent cock.

Catching his breath, Miguel pulled out of you slowly, ears catching the pained whimper you let out, eyes looking down to watch as his white liquid poured from your hole. Your hips slumped and rested against the bed, your face still hidden by the pillow as you caught your breath, exhausted and extremely sore.

It was like he’d been clouded with lust and anger the whole time, because as he looked at your trembling form, the clear feeling of guilt consumed him. As careful as possible, he collected as many soothing ingredients he could find from the bathroom; a cold washcloth, calming lotion, and water all included.

Kneeling on the bed, his hands gently moved to prop your hips up, a choked out ‘no’ leaving your lips, your fear quickly extinguished by his soft, cooed words. “Shh, it’s okay,” he whispered, wiping the washcloth along your irritated folds and your inner thighs, cleaning up any excess liquids. Taking your reddened bottom into his hands, he smoothed and rubbed lotion onto you, the tender skin of your ass slowly becoming soothed by the cool substance.

Kissing up your spine, Miguel stroked your hair, his hand tilting your head to be able to see your face, his heart dropping at the sight of your red eyes, tear stained cheeks, and lack of speaking. “Oh- mi amor..” he murmured, strong arms pulling you onto his chest (careful not to nudge your bottom) as he rubbed your back, a quiet sigh leaving your lips at the feeling.

“I’m sorry.. I shouldn’t have gotten angry with you,” his voice was filled with regret, leaving a kiss to your head as you hummed your agreement. “I-” he pursed his lips, releasing a sigh as he struggled to say a certain admission, “I may have been a little too harsh on him.”

A breathy laugh resounded against his chest, your hoarse voice a relief to his ears as your tired eyes looked up to meet his own, “you think?”

—————————————————————————

ella es mía- she’s mine

cariño- sweetheart

poca pucha- little cunt

mírate- look at you

puta chorrea- fucking dripping

arañita- little spider

mi amor- my love

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel x reader #miguel smut #miguel o’hara imagine #spiderman across the spiderverse #atsv miguel #why cant he be real

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despairots · 11 months

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━━━━━━━━ in another another dimension.

1610! miles morales x gn! spiderman! reader x 42! miles morales. angst, and sorta fluff?? also spoilers if u havent seen the movie yet, shit writing since i havent wrote in a long time 👎

where miles morales was your boyfriend and died in your dimension ‘cause you couldn’t save him in time after he was pushed off a building. where earth 1610 & earth 42, you’re dead ‘cause you got pushed off a building.

you couldn’t save him in time. by the time you saw his figure disappear from the ledge of the building, you were already frozen in spot, seeing as if the love of your life was gonna die and it was because of you.

even though you caught him by the chest with one of your webs, the recoil already impacted his head and back, causing him to die. you couldn’t apologize to him after the argument you two had.

“miles… i am so sorry. please wake up. wake the fuck up, miles! this isn’t funny. please tell me i’m dreaming, please tell me you’ll wake me up from a nightmare like before. please, i can’t lose you too…”

he always would wake you up and comfort you after a nightmare, he wouldn’t do that anymore. he would always whisper sweet things in your ear that always made you blush, he wouldn’t do that anymore.

nothing that was only exchanged between the two of you wouldn’t happen anymore, nothing. it was meaningless to you, you missed him. it was obvious to everyone.

your parents, friends, miles’s parents, classmates, teachers, schoolmates. they all knew how much you cherished eachother, how much you couldn’t keep living without eachother.

when he needed you the most, you weren’t there. you weren’t able to save him in time. maybe you could this time, saving him from a hundred other spider people.

EARLIER.

“this your friend, gwen?” a familiar voice was heard behind you making you quickly turn around, your spider sense going off. “miles?” “[name]?” the two of you spoke at the same time, jaw dropped and eyes widened.

“this was the surprise you meant, gwen.” all guilt that you thought you buried long time ago was to much to handle when you saw him, the same beauty that he had when you he died in your universe.

you couldn’t help but hug him tightly, face buried into his chest, he was always taller then you. miles jumped a little bit before hugging you back, his face buried on top of your hair.

you were restraining yourself for crying, small sniffles came from you as you could see gwen lightly smiling at the two of you. embarrassment was the only thing that made you pull away.

“sorry! i— um, have a miles morales in my dimension b - but he died.” you stumbled upon your words, blush on your cheek as miles blinked at you. “it’s fine. i have a you in my dimension but they — uh, died.”

miles nervously chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. it was awkward between the two of you, completely embarrassed that you hugged eachother even though you technically knew eachother too.

when you think about it, maybe you could save him this time… from millions of spider people and being thrown to his earth with him.

EARTH ???.

miles told you to wait in the living to talk to his mother, brooklyn was totally wrecked on his earth. spiderman was gone for just two days or maybe more and brooklyn looked like hell.

it didn’t feel right, you felt uneasy. it felt to surreal, to unrealistic in your opinion. you turned invisible when you saw mrs. morales, miles’ mother, walk out of his room, laughing.

he tried speaking to her before getting cut off by glitching, scaring you. ‘he’s in the wrong dimension.’ miles and you shared a look, signifying the look of terror.

‘the spider that bit him… it wasn’t from his dimension. miguel was right… he was never meant to be spiderman.’ the door creaked open, revealing the man who thought had died in miles’ dimension.

the two chattered, his uncle taking him to the roof as miles looked at you and gestured to follow him. it was shocking, to say the least, watching the two look at a mural.

your eyes widened at the art, instead of miles’ uncle dead, it was his dad and you. until then, you realized, you were always going to die in ever dimension but yours.

no matter how many times, no matter how many dimensions, the universes were working together to stop you and miles from every getting together.

that’s why miles died in yours, you dying in miles, and you dying in this world too. the universes never wanted you two to get together, maybe it was because of the saying:

in every other universe, gwen stacy falls for spiderman.

you were too lost in thought that you didn’t realize miles was knocked out until your spider senses tingled, reflexes making you dodged the incoming punch.

your hood (from your black sweater that you wore over your suit) flipped off, revealing the tight frown and scowl on your face. “what the f— miles…” you whispered the last part, seeing him on the floor.

something was poked into your neck, injecting you with something and forced you to sleep. losing authority over your body, you fell to the ground, unbothered by it.

your body didn’t touch the ground, that’s the thing, someone caught you in time. they cradled you softly in their arms, watching your eyes blink in and out if reality before completely closing.

aaron scoffed at his nephew, “that’s not the [name] you knew, they ain’t yours.” his nephew mumbled a yes, watching you sleep with the beauty you still had when you died.

your fingers were twitching, a small habit that you always had when sleeping. he missed you, he missed you so damn much.

and when he saw your face when your hood flipped over, he felt like he got a second chance to be with you.

but when he looked over at the other miles that was over his uncle’s shoulder, he felt hatred. he didn’t want to risk you to his other counterpart, he didn’t want to lose you, again.

and that was the same feeling 1610 miles felt, he didn’t want to lose you again. and for sure, you felt that way too.

#kaz. 💫#spiderman into the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman #1610 miles #miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #miles morales x reader #spiderman reader #angst #fluff #character death #1610 miles morales #42 miles morales #earth 42 #earth 1610 #earth 42 miles morales #earth 1610 miles morales

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twistcmyk · 1 year

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Several months ago I was watching old YouTube videos that I'm nostalgic for. One of these was Lindsey Stirling's "Lindsey Stirling - Crystallize (Dubstep Violin Original Song)" released in 2012. In it, Lindsey Stirling's dubstep violin original song plays as she navigates a frozen landscape, equipped with only her violin and her funky little dance moves. As she traverses, she performs sweeping, exaggerated (and to me, fucking hilarious) gestures of awe and wonder at the world.

While watching, I gave her a silly phrase in a silly voice to match her expressions.

"Beautiful Strange World...!"

I said it with a really specific inflection. It carries the same cadence as when Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood goes "Full, Metal, Alchemist." but with a lot more whimsy, wonder, and curiosity. Either way, sounding like a corny anime dub is important.

"Full, Metal, Alchemist...!"

This was (and still is) some of the funniest shit in the world to me. But as I kept repeating it, the phrase accumulated power.

Full, Metal, Alchemist.

Beautiful Strange World.

Let's break this down:

Her world of snow and ice is beautiful and strange, but so is our world. Everything about it. Everything is so weird!

Giraffes? Why do they look like that? There's generally evolutionary explanations for stuff like this, but evolution is bizarre.

Spiders? They know how to make webs. They just do that.

Grocery stores? There's a bunch of food in a big box with unimaginably complex supply chains, and people depend on this big box to provide them with ingredients for meals.

Those little sponge capsules that soak up water to become little dinosaur sponges? What the fuck?

Beautiful Strange World.

I've gotten into the habit of saying it whenever something amazes me, whenever I take a step back and take the time to appreciate something that we take for granted, or if I'm interacting with a piece of media that does, in fact, take place in a world that is strange, and beautiful because of it.

It makes me feel like the move she does about three minutes and sixteen seconds into the video.

Beautiful Strange World has legitimately affected the way I perceive the world, due to Lindsey Stirling's "Lindsey Stirling - Crystallize (Dubstep Violin Original Song)".

#this is the second comic i've made about an old music video that affected me in a stupid way #i should make a new tag for this kind of post

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matchibee · 11 months

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Enchanted

i wrote this with such speed i thought i was gonna pass out. a long one, my magnum opus as far as writing for Miguel goes. semi-proof-read?

in which Miguel is in love with you but you’re in love with Spider-Man.

Spider-Man. An illusive figure who arrived with the wind, retreating upon the stars. You couldn’t help your infatuation, couldn’t stand the way he had your stomach flipping at the mere mention of his name — jumbotrons displaying his well-built definition, detailing the lengths of his most recent brush with malice.

Clawed hands running along the sides of buildings, thick crimson webs entrapping unsuspecting offenders. Everything from the seemingly mundane to the exceptionally exemplary. Not a detail scurried past you, infatuated to your core, and the moment where you finally encountered him — flesh to spandex — was a moment you’d yet to forget.

A trip to the bank gone wrong. Mismatched militia of men in crude ski masks training their guns upon the various tellers performing dreadfully dull monetary tasks. They instructed —no — demanded cash be deposited within boringly beige burlap sacks. In an effort to conceal yourself once the gunfight began, you ducked behind a trio of seats, body shaking, praying you’d be spared from the influence of evil.

You’d damn near conceded to the universe right then and there, tears streaming across your cheeks. Then, as though the world had opened up, heeding your call:

Spider-Man.

He’d arrived upon seemingly thin air, just as you fantasized, defeating with the men in a flash — the onslaught of action leaving you frozen in place. Seconds, minutes had passed following Spider-Man’s victory, yet you stayed frozen. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move.

“You alright?”

The voice hadn’t registered, hands still covering your ears, gunfire playing out like a demented film in your mind.

Warmth. A hand pressed against your shoulder, tears ceasing their onslaught, the stray liquid hitting the floor. Eyes slick with moisture, burning from how tightly you’d shut up them looking up to find not a face, but a mask.

“Spider-Man…?”

“You’re not hurt, are you?”

It hadn’t even been something you’d considered, surveying yourself in tandem with Spider-Man, finding nothing out of the ordinary.

Besides, perhaps, your heartbeat.

“I’m… I’m fine, thank you.”

He nodded his head, holding out a hand to you, your own enveloped by his palm alone. “Let’s get you out of here. Where do you live?”

He wanted to take you — escort you — home.

In typical circumstance you would’ve scoffed at the question, removing yourself from the situation, mace coating their face as you made a daring escape.

But here, now, enveloped in everything Spider-Man, you couldn’t help your compliance, couldn’t help the way your stomach flipped at his proximity.

His touch had lingered somewhere along your frame the entire journey back to your apartment — hand, back, shoulder — he moved in an effort to extend safety, yet you couldn’t resist the blush that unfurled against your cheeks when he’d remove himself only to return.

“This is me,” You’d spoken hoarsely, praying Spider-Man believed your nerves stemmed from a place of perpetuating fear. Fiddling with your thumbs, practically unable to look him in the eyes — mask?

He seemed in tune with your movement, hand returning to encase your own, ceasing your fidget. The man hesitated, a deafening silence, “Stay safe, okay?”

That was that. You’d returned to your apartment dazed and discombobulated, calling your boss to explain what had happened — you wouldn’t be able to attend today, perhaps not tomorrow, either. There you stayed within the safety of your apartment, reflecting on the day’s events, and yet only one thing reigned consistent in your mind.

Spider-Man.

You knew him — Spider-Man, even if you hadn’t known it. Miguel despised it, despised the way you spoke of him without even realizing it. Friends from work, the best of friends. But everyday he yearned for the threshold between platonic and romantic to blur, itching to feel his skin against yours.

Miguel’s heart sank when you called out, kicking himself for not realizing how deeply this morning’s debacle might have affected you. At the first sign of mental relief, he’d taken the opportunity to call you, fiddling with the picture of you and his daughter — the day you’d taken her out for her birthday — displayed neatly on his desk for everyone to see.

Everyone except you, of course.

You hadn’t the faintest idea it was there, Miguel coincidentally moving it aside, perhaps blocking it with his bulbous stature whenever you’d enter his office.

But he knew, his daughter knew, every other co-worker that had entered inquiring upon advice knew.

How his daughter adored you, and it only made him all the more enchanted with you.

Yet those feelings he’d extended towards his daughter in the midst of exhausted delirium, admitting — yes — he like-liked you were forced to remain hidden.

Those feelings that bubbled inside his chest whenever you smiled up at him, or brushed his shoulder during your trek to the office, were forced to remain hidden

The sound of the line connecting had Miguel sitting up straighter in his swivel chair, hesitant to respond, cursing you for answering your phone while you weren’t in the best shape.

Why would you just take of yourself? Why wouldn’t you just let him take care of you?

“Miguel,” Your meager voice upon pick-up echoed as though you had been asleep, a drawl to your voice, hopelessly drowsy — confused.

Or perhaps you’d been in tears?

The thought alone left Miguel’s heart clenching for relief.

“Hey,” He picked at loose skin surrounding his nail bed, “I uh… You called out?”

You hummed in response, Miguel doing the same. In truth, he hadn’t the faintest idea how to respond. He didn’t believe he’d get this far, didn’t realize how the mere tingle of the phone against his ear — displaying your contact photo of the night out where he was seconds away from confessing his feelings — would have his stomach flipping in circles.

“You’re not feeling well? Not… What’s wrong?”

He could hear you shift on the other line, a sniffle.

You were crying.

“Just… Something happened before work and I…” He heard the way your throat clenched, fighting the urge to cry, “I didn’t think I’d be able to go, y’know, do my job — not with that on my mind.” You forced a laugh, Miguel’s chest only clenching tighter.

He loathed himself for not being there sooner, beat himself up for not delivering you from the clutches of those fucked men. If you’d been home, his home that he’d gladly make yours, this wouldn’t have happened.

He didn’t want to ever allow it to happen again.

Miguel knew he should’ve killed those pathetic excuses for men then and there, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, not with you present.

Perhaps the evening called for a targeted patrolling session.

“Want me to stop by? I could…” Miguel hesitated, “I could bring something to eat if you don’t feel well enough to cook, maybe…”

“No, Mig.” He could hear your hesitance, your voice quaking, distressed. “I just wanna be alone…”

Your sobs could be heard as the line disconnected, Miguel ridden with overwhelming grief.

He didn’t want to leave you alone, leave you to suffer in the silence of your apartment. Not when he could be there to hold you close, not when his daughter could braid your hair and ramble about classroom activities and playground gossip.

He was simply meant for you, meant to adore you with everything that encompassed his being.

Why wouldn’t you just let him?

Of course, you’d returned to work eventually, life seeming to resume as intended. You hadn’t been away long, something that simultaneously relieved and upset Miguel.

Relief from seeing your personified perfection in the flesh.

Upset because you shouldn’t have to push yourself to heal before you're ready.

You fell back into your daily habits with relative ease. Returning to work, an overwhelming project at your call upon your return, which precedented a late evening — crumpled papers, glasses hanging low on the tip of your nose. You simply couldn't get this right no matter how incessantly you tried, no matter how much effort you put into it. You were out of your zone, mind plagued with images of Spider-Man and everything that encompassed him.

“You’re not going home?” Miguel’s voice was laced with concern, leaning against the doorway to your office — adjacent rooms, right beside each other whenever the other yearned for moral support; confirmation in the midst of their work.

Sometimes you caught that the mere vibration of his melodic tone filled you with a sense of enchantment, legs weak and mind fogged with his essence.

The two of you couldn't afford to travel down that rabbit-hole, not again. Lingering touches, lovesick stares. Your lives were far too hectic, too different to allow yourselves such vulnerability.

You couldn't do that to him, to his daughter.

“Huh?” You snapped out of your academic stupor upon realizing you had, in fact, registered his voice amongst your onslaught of thoughts. “Oh, no. I already ate.”

Miguel laughed at you then. Relishing in your inattentiveness, the way your mind wandered to the simplest trivialities, the way you became entrapped within your work, forfeiting your very existence in favor of a breakthrough. Ripping the paper from your hands, your pout making Miguel see stars. “Miguel, I need that.”

Yet he couldn't help the way he felt wondering if it wasn't thoughts of frustration that plagued your mind, but thoughts of him.

“No,” The man tucked the paper neatly into one of the drawers attached to your desk, holding it closed with his calf, “You need to go home.”

“I’m not playing around, this is important.”

“Neither am I.”

You were stubborn, Miguel knew that, despised it. That didn’t deter him from extending a hand, working to convince you. Back and forth you shot excuses upon excuses, explanations piling upon others.

However, in the end, he had a daughter he adored to return home to. If you didn’t want to listen to a friend’s concerns…

Friend.

The word alone left a fowl taste in his mouth.

He couldn’t do anything to deter you from your decision.

His journey home was one he’d taken in complete silence, Nueva York’s hustle and bustle nothing more than insignificant background noise. His daughter was home waiting, one of his neighbors whose child attended the same school gracious enough to walk her home when he was unable to. The two had dinner, watched sparkly cartoons, and retired for an evening’s rest — all while you hunched over your desk, pencils coming and going, frustrations taken out on countless crumpled papers desecrating your office floor.

When you’d finally emerged, dazed and exhausted, a voice called out to you above, rain pouring against the sidewalk, and of course you’d neglected to check the weather — not an umbrella in sight.

Just your luck.

“Late evening?” Spider-Man was crouched on the lamppost above you, soaking wet, looking down with an unreadable expression due to the mask obscuring his face.

Just your luck.

“You don’t have any idea.” You responded, holding your face, fighting the blush that pushed forward. His voice was like honey, smooth as he spoke every word. “Shit.”

“No umbrella?”

You nodded your head with hesitance, embarrassed. Spider-Man hopped down from his height ways above you, standing before you in all his glory. Proximity practically nonexistent, and you wouldn’t have it any other way, soothed by the prospect of his presence alone. “I don’t really have anywhere to keep one with the suit but…” He contemplated what he’d say next very carefully, “Want a ride?”

“You have a spider-car?”

“Well, no.” Spider-Man gestured to his wrists with a silent laugh, web-shooters fashioned there, encasing his wrists beautifully. “But if you close your eyes, it’s kinda the same.”

“Oh.” You were hesitant, unsure if it would be a wise idea. Yet, in the end, you’d opted to accept. It would be much quicker, you convinced yourself, and that was definitely the only reason you’d taken the extended invitation.

No other reason.

Nueva York was beautiful this time of night, windows from above glittering like flecks of gold, quaint as silence began to make its home. The cars speckled the asphalt like stars against the inky darkness of an evening sky. The sight unparalleled by anything that encompassed the human experience.

Of course, you’d been unable to witness everything, eyes shut as you held onto Spider-Man’s neck like your life was dependent on it.

It very well might’ve been, but you knew he wouldn’t allow you to fall.

And if by some off-chance you had, he would surely be there to catch you.

“We really need to stop meeting like this, unfavorable situations.” You joked as he produced you at the window to your apartment, the two of you standing on the fire escape, rain still fluttering around you. By now, you were soaked, looking up at Spider-Man through a hand held high-above your eyes, shielding your gaze from the rain.

“Maybe it’s a sign.”

You hadn’t an idea what he could’ve meant, but that didn’t deter your mind from coming to unreasonable conclusions. Was he flirting? Did he mean his words in a romantic sense? Certainly not. People like Spider-Man didn’t have time for relationships, not trivial ones, anyways. And if he did, you convinced yourself he certainly wouldn’t extended his affections towards someone as seemingly insignificant as yourself.

Spider-Man took hold of your face, your body tensing, a million thoughts running rampant in your mind. “You should get inside,” He finally spoke, “Wouldn’t wanna catch a cold, miss another day of work.”

Just like that, he was gone, off into the evening. The rain had ceased, your body soaked, hopping into your apartment through your window. Your nightly routined had gone as typical, but when it came to rest...

You simply couldn’t sleep that evening, thoughts overrun with thoughts of your arachnid savior.

And somewhere down the way, Miguel was just the same.

“I was wondering if you’d wanna go out tonight? I got uh… Well my neighbor is…”

You weren’t paying attention, head in your hand, picking at your lunch with the other.

No, your mind was entirely absorbed by thoughts of Spider-Man, your meeting him once again all you’d been able to conjure to your mind. For once, work went undone without apprehension, and you allowed it. You were one of the best Geneticists alongside Miguel, they wouldn’t dream of replacing you, not for something as trivial as today’s agenda.

Miguel was still rambling beside you, “But yeah, so if you want, we should definitely—“

“Huh?” Miguel’s heart seemed to deflate. “Sorry, I wasn’t listening.”

“No, yeah.” He pushed the tickets back into his pants pocket, clenching them in frustration, “I gathered that.”

“Did you… Were you asking me something?”

“No, no. Nothing important, just a theory I came across while working earlier.”

“Oh,” You mumbled an apology, “You can discuss it, if you want.”

He shook his head, rising from your shared table in the cafeteria, retreating to who-knows-where. Guilt plagued you, chest tightening, Miguel seeming particularly perturbed by your lack of attention.

You decided you would try to make it up to him, take him out somewhere, perhaps the three of you — himself, his daughter, you — could hang out like you’d done previously. Time dwindling as work piled higher. as thoughts of another took you away from where Miguel had once remained, nestled in your heart.

You couldn’t wait for him forever, realizing he hadn’t any feelings for you all those months ago.

Right?

Miguel felt nothing but pain.

An overwhelming clench of his chest as he was forced to watch you fall for someone else.

Granted, it was still him. He could still have you, if he wanted to, under the guise of Spider-Man.

But Miguel didn’t want that. He wanted you all to himself, everything that encompassed you. Fleeting glances, late nights, domesticity. All Miguel yearned for in this world was the prospect of your love, everything to himself.

Miguel wanted to worship you, wanted you to adore him, just as he did you. He didn’t want you to love Spider-Man, didn’t want this persona of himself to be the one you fell for.

And yet you had.

He fucking loathed it.

It pained him to think he was losing you to none other than himself. Pained him to think the only way he’d ever be able to love you was from behind a mask.

So when you approached him, heart on your sleeve, bright smile on your face as you inquired about an evening together, he hadn’t the faintest idea why he’d responded in the fashion he had.

“It’s a beautiful place,” You fawned, walking beside Miguel to your adjacent offices. A habit you’d built together, breakfast in each other’s company, “I heard Spider-Man dined there once. Or, rescued someone who was dining there? I really can’t remember.”

Miguel was thoroughly frustrated, fists balled at his sides. The entire journey you'd found someway to bring Spider-Man into the conversation. He didn't want that. He yearned for his name to fall from your lips as easily as his title. “Is that all you know how to talk about?”

“Excuse me?” You were unsure whether he meant his words with malice.

“I mean,” Miguel scoffed. Why was he doing this? He was losing all sense of reason the further you fell for Spider-Man, the further you strayed from his open arms. “It seems like lately all you want to discuss is Spider-Man! His suit, the way he speaks, the way he holds you.”

Maybe you'd gotten far too caught up in everything, more than you'd realized. In truth, you didn't believe the extent of your fawning had sauntered on insufferable, but perhaps it had been a flaw in your lapse of judgement.

Miguel made it seem as much.

“Does that… Does that bother you, Miguel?”

“Y-“ He paused, taking a deep breath, confused as to what his answer truly was. “Not at all. It’s an observation.”

You nodded in understanding, thumbs twidling in front of you, Miguel ceasing the movement with a squeeze of his hand, absentminded. He didn’t look to you, gaze still trained to the pavement before you.

So familiar, yet.

"Are you jealous?" You'd blurted the question without thinking, without considering what effect your — ill-thought — words would have on the man. His posture grew rigid, pupils dilated, scowl forming upon his angular features.

You didn't believe there to be a day in your life where Miguel scowled, extending an expression of such unadulterated malice. It was your own, you reasoned. His expression, this change seeming to occur before your eyes was nothing more than the consequences of your own actions.

But as his silence festered, continued, you found yourself growing increasingly insecure. After all, what had you anticipated his answer to be? Did you have a hope for how he would respond?

Did you yearn for Miguel to express the innermost working of his mind, the truth?

“We’re just work friends,” He spoke coldly, your heart clenching, burning. "Why on Earth would I have any reason to be jealous of what you do outside office hours?"

Work friends. A distinction between reality and augmentation. Perhaps, this entire time, you’d truly been imagining the magnetism that existed between the both of you — lingering hands, soft smiles, whispered affirmations — nothing more than figment.

A laugh fell from your lips — dry, overrun with regret. There was a point in time you wouldn't have believed him. Then, you would've bumped his shoulder, looking up at him with an expression of unfiltered joy, entirely joyous with your banter. He would be joking, a jester in his own right, and you’d be conscious of it.

Now…

Now you weren’t sure where you stood, and Miguel had made it his mission to make it abundantly clear, drawing that line you’d believed a blur.

Another byproduct of imagination, you supposed.

“Of course,” You conceded in an instant, the energy to refute his words, beg him for clarity long gone in a matter of seconds. “I shouldn’t have… I wasn’t thinking.”

“I can tell.”

Why had Miguel spoke to you like that?

Pain? Jealously? All that stemmed from his own actions?

You hadn’t visited him during your conveniently joint break, Miguel eating a lunch packed by his darling daughter in the dim lighting of his office — your voice echoing from down the hall, engaged in conversation with one of your coworkers, and while he hadn’t made it a habit to extend his Spider-abilities outside of his costume, he simply couldn’t resist.

An invitation for drinks, to spend time outside of work.

Work relationship transitioning from professional to platonic. Just as yours had months prior, perhaps a little too well.

Fuck.

Miguel returned home to his daughter that evening in shambles, doing his best to put on a smile for the young girl, repeating their nightly activities effortlessly — Friday evening, no need to worry about work or school the next morning.

Unless, of course, they called him in for some ridiculous reason, but it seemed unlikely given the trajectory of their progress.

He’d have his world — vida — entirely to himself. Nothing could take that right away from him, not this universe nor the one that followed. If he couldn’t have you, at least his daughter would be there to pick up the pieces of her father’s broken heart. Mending a man shattered without even realizing it.

But, in this life you were always the singular constant he could never take into proper consideration, entropic in nature.

When life threw a curveball, it was always you extending your arm in offense.

Miguel hadn't the faintest idea how to go about what had transpired between the two of you, helpless to your influence, hopeless in facing his feeling. A pile of putty between your fingers.

But as his darling child had him watching a sappy sparkly-princess movie, the two love interests defying the prospects of space and time in their journey towards true love — their love story rewritten in their favor, Miguel couldn't help the tears he shed. Couldn’t help the way his oblivious daughter teased her father, running tiny thumbs across his cheeks to wipe away his tears.

Couldn’t help the way his thoughts drifted to you.

Missed call following missed call. Miguel had been attempting to contact you since early evening yesterday, continuing into this morning. By now, Saturday, the sun had begun its descent from the sky, disappearing along the horizon.

You'd yet to return his call, didn't know if you ever intended on doing so.

Surely he'd be seen bright and early Monday morning, punctuality his vice and simultaneous virtue. But whether or not he'd have a bagged bagel in hand, extended for your pleasure, was unclear.

Either way, you wouldn't blame him, you supposed.

Another call, his contact on display — an image of him you'd taken at the perfect opportunity, a breakthrough stemming from his work — and you couldn't help but clench your eyes in refusal.

It took a lot of convincing, far too much convincing for you to produce yourself from your bedsheets, having been invited out for a round of drinks by your co-workers. Initially, you'd refused, but their incessant attempt at convincing you had finally broke through.

So there you stood in the mirror, dressed to the nines in the best outfits you could've produced from your closet.

It wasn't particularly enchanting by any means, something you'd thrown together in the spur of the moment, simultaneously texting your coworker to inform them you'd be attending while dressing yourself, their excitement shimmering through text bubbles.

It had been a beautiful evening, the location a tavern-like establishment embellished with plants that rained down from the ceiling as though extending themselves to you, whispering your name and enveloping you in their embrace.

Jokes were exchanged, far too many beverages tossed about, but you maintained a decent level of sobriety despite everything. But even as you enjoyed your time, you couldn't help the thought that plagued your mind. Singular, the possibility of anything else replacing the thought inconceivable.

Miguel would adore it here.

He's a simple man, always was and always would be. He indulged in what was required, everything else simply a bonus stemming from his diligent educational prowess. An intelligent man, and he knew that in his entirety, never doubting himself.

Yet you made him feel so dumb, lost. Not a single textbook, equation or lecture could bring him any further into the depths of your mind than he'd began.

Did he like it that way?

Perhaps.

You bid your goodbyes as the evening hours fell into morning, the hustle and bustle of the city still at ease. But that didn't mean crime wasn't lurking at every corner, keen on corrupting the innocent, extending insecurities and fear upon the most unsuspecting of victims.

And that's exactly what occurred.

Hands enveloped you, not the welcomed kind like Spider-Man's or Miguel's, but ones that were laced with genuine discontent. Someone was making an attempt at your head. But for what?

"You seem well-off," The raspy voice was laced in alcohol, the corner of your eyes revealing a man with a stature that was nearly rat-like in nature. "Have anyone at home? A husband? Wife?"

You didn't know how to respond, didn't know if you should. The feeling of a chilled blade changed your confusion, morphing it into compliance.

You shook your head, nobody was waiting for you at home. Not that you wouldn’t like to change that, it simply wasn’t in the cards, divined by the universe.

"Good, good." His head peered around the corner, not a soul in sight, and suddenly you realized how dangerous it was to be here entirely on your lonesome. "You're gonna take me to your house, I'm gonna take whatever I want, and when I'm done you're not gonna tell a soul — not unless you intend on keeping this pretty little neck intact."

He slid the blade along your throat, your body physically rejecting it, bile seeping up your esophagus.

Suppose if you just complied, perhaps stalled for time, maybe he...

You couldn't rely on Spider-Man.

After all, he was a person too, someone with his own life and own aspirations. It was entirely possible he was well beyond asleep at this time, curled up in his bedsheets, unaware of the silent altercation occurring in some insignificant alley. While he was the city’s protector, that didn’t mean he had the divine ability to zero-in on the ins and outs of crime’s occurrences.

Spider-Man can’t save everyone.

You were entirely alone.

The man's grip was unrelenting as he led you down the sidewalk, head buzzing from the evening that'd just concluded, simultaneously palpitating at the prospect of your demise. He dug his unkempt nails into your biceps, forearms, anywhere you could sink himself into — a groan ripping from your clothed mouth with every unwelcome extension of discomfort — hadn't a single soul been out? This was such an active city at all times of day, only a few moments of leeway at any given time.

Suppose you were grossly unlucky.

The stroll hadn't taken much time, finding yourself a few feet away from your apartment building, the man's grip tightening, drawing blood every time you approached somewhere remotely populated. "Not a sound, not if you wanna make it to see the sunrise."

How tempted you were to call fate out on its bullshit, wanting to scream, bite down on his hand and sprint away. But there was so much unfinished business, so much you'd yet to live through. If you simply cooperated, did as you were told, perhaps you'd find the fruits of your suffering weren't as sour as they seemed.

Just as you'd conceded, leading him towards the fire escape that would produce you outside your window — convincing yourself there was nothing left except compliance, a weight was lifted from your shoulders.

Some shuffles, groans and noises of struggle. But when all was said and done, Spider-Man stepped into the light of a flickering streetlight. He appeared distressed, frantic as he approached you with hesitant movements. His hands hovered your shoulders, looking you over, wordless in his late-night examination.

And then you cried.

You cried because you were alone. Cried because you’d nearly died, and what would you have had to show for it? You’ve been so enthralled by a man bathed in red and blue hues that you’d neglected the happenings of life you’d worked so tirelessly to achieve — your career, friendships, relationships — all because you were scared, all because you couldn’t get some fantasy off your mind.

You’d been rescued by the very man you prayed would come to your aid, looking to the heavens as you begged the universe to send him to you.

But that wasn’t who your mind wandered to when you thought of Spider-Man, was it?

No. When you rationalized your death, convinced yourself Spider-Man wouldn’t be there for your rescue, you weren’t truly thinking of the midnight crusader.

Your mind had wandered to Miguel.

“Let’s get you home,” Spider-Man spoke as though his throat were clenched, merely holding out a hand, unable to take you into his embrace. “You shouldn’t be out at this time, not alone.”

And all you could think of was Miguel, how he wouldn’t have hesitated to envelop you then and there, previous quarrel be damned.

Miguel who always seemed acutely in-tune with your emotions, who would bend the heavens and the earth to ensure your happiness. Your lives previous had been hopefully, expectant. Friends and families wondering when things would become official, when your ever-obvious feelings would be unveiled to one another — relief falling upon all those who stood by helplessly, watching with indignant compliance.

But that never happened.

“I don’t… Please don’t take me home.” You were practically begging, holding onto yourself with an unrelenting grip, imagining another in its place. You couldn’t go home, not after everything you’d experienced, not with the thoughts that plagued your mind. You feared if you were to return home, the man would be there awaiting your arrival, even as his body lay numb in the alleyway opposite yourself.

Spider-Man didn’t hesitate, hadn’t argued. “Where can I take you?”

Then you pondered, truly pondered his inquiry. Where could he take you? Certainly your co-workers would have long-since fallen asleep following their intoxicated stupors. Not that it would be particularly professional of you to appear at the doorstep of newly-formed acquaintances. Family? You had none, all having fled Nueva York in the midst of the crime that plagued the city, the dangers that lurked prior to Spider-Man’s self-anointed inauguration — protector of the city, defender of the innocent.

“Miguel.” His name fell from your lips like second-nature, muscle memory. You hadn’t even been aware you’d spoken such until the deed was done, Spider-Man’s clothed eyes widening beside you.

The Spider was hesitant. “Do you trust him?” And you found it endearing how he was concerned with your decision-making skills.

Anyone would be, considering you’d been able to convince yourself a midnight stroll was wise.

“With my entire life,” And if it weren’t for your shivering frame still overtaken with the memory of near-death, you would’ve smiled, warmth seeping into your chest. Because in your heart, unconsciously, you knew your words were as factual as the nucleic acids that made up your genetic code.

“I’ll take you to him.” He spoke it like a final decision, the defining factor.

And so he had. This journey was entirely different than ones taken previously. Your head didn’t hammer with the prospect of sharing secrets, didn’t yearn to discover who lurked behind the mask. Your mind entirely belonged to Miguel, that darling man, and how he might react to your presence.

Perhaps this was a mistake.

You’d arrived at the man’s windowsill, Spider-Man insisting it was a better alternative, easy-access to ensure safety. You crept through the window, turning to thank your savior, only to find Spider-Man long gone — nothing to indicate he’d ever been there, an anomaly in his own right.

Furniture stirred somewhere in the other room as you crouch to enter Miguel’s home, a curse under someone’s breath — someone you couldn’t see. “Miguel…?” There was no response, your hands moving to shut the window, transitioning to wrap around your center.

No, you shouldn’t be here.

Miguel had a daughter, he had priorities apart from you. You couldn’t just barge into his home because you had a fucked evening, tears in your eyes and bruises littering your body. He didn’t deserve this, not after the fight you’d had just hours prior to this moment.

Miguel didn’t see you like that, he’d never seen you like that, never could — and even if he was the person your mind wandered to, glued to, in your most vulnerable moments, that didn’t mean he felt the same of you.

You were just friends from work, right?

You turned on your heels, retreating quickly to his window from whence you came, wondering why it was unlocked in the first place if Miguel and his daughter were sound asleep. Surely he wasn’t that careless, not the Miguel you knew.

Then you wondered if it was safe for you to be out right now.

Granted, it seemed it wasn’t safe anywhere, but tonight in particular seemed foreboding, a call to which you didn’t know the answer.

The call of your name from behind you, Miguel standing in his pajamas, chest heaving as though he’d just ran a marathon. He was frazzled, hair unkempt, eyes filled with something — exhaustion, perhaps — but you couldn’t quite pinpoint what.

He called your name again upon your silence, unsure whether he was hallucinating in the midst of exhaustion, and you swear you saw stars.

“Miguel… Miguel I’m…”

He approached you slowly, your frame illuminated by the moonlight, appearing ethereal. You were everything he’d ever dreamed of, what his heart yearned for. Here you were, standing in his apartment, and he couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe out of everyone you’d gone to him for consolation, whispering his name into his suit-clad arms. “You’re hurt…” He spoke in a whisper — as though he hadn’t noticed prior, and while he hadn’t been oblivious to your injuries, he'd only come to realize the extent in this very moment.

“Who did this, Amor? What happened”

“I dont…” You were choking on your words, looking away from him. But upon his approach to close the burning distance between you, he tilted you to face him ever-so delicately. “I don’t know, but Spider-Man...”

Miguel was frantic in his speaking, “Was he there?”

You could only respond through a sob, better than nothing. “Of course he was, Miguel.” Another hitch of your breath, "He brought me here... To you."

He thanked Spider-Man, thanked himself. If he hadn’t shouldered the burden, taken this god-forsaken job, he would’ve been unable to save you.

Who knows what would’ve happened then.

"Didn't know the Spider-Man knew where I lived." A joke to himself, knowing you hadn't the faintest idea it was a joke to begin with. How he adored the expression that fanned across your puffed eyes, looking up to him as though he'd hung the moon and the stars before you. Enchanted by his presence.

"I'm the one that—"

He shushed you quietly, enveloping you in his warm embrace, the smell of his cologne wafting around you, grounding you.

It'd been forever since you'd been in such close proximity to Miguel, felt as though you hadn't experienced his warmth in centuries. There was a point in time where moments like this, extended vulnerabilty, were entirely common. Of course, they were quiet moments exclusively between the two of you, instances where you were certain nobody would be there to witness them — reserved only for the both of you, your own memories, untainted by the outside world.

Perhaps it wasn't the best idea to dwell on the past, and yet you couldn't help yourself, insecurity taking shape.

“I should go, I…” You turned to his door, foregoing any attempts at clambering out the window, Miguel’s firm grip faltering from around your shoulders, sliding around your wrist as he simultaneously pulled you into his chest, fighting tears as he listened to sobs muffled by his cotton white tee.

“Don’t go,” He was crying now, one hand playing with the ends of your hair while the other rubbed circles against your back. “Don’t leave, not tonight.”

“I can’t, your daughter—“

“Will understand that the person I love is in distress. She’s a smart kid, reminds me of you.”

“Miguel?”

He loved how his name fell from your lips. Through giggles, through spouts of frustration, even through tears. “Mi Vida?”

“Did you just say… Did you say you…”

Miguel laughed at your hesitance, palm caressing your cheek, “Take your time, I’m listening.”

“Did you just say you love me?”

“Did I?” Miguel chuckled, a kiss feathering the top of your head, “I can’t seem to remember.”

#across the spiderverse #beyond the spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderverse #into the spiderverse #spiderman #spiderverse x reader #miguel o’hara

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fabien38us · 5 months

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#frost #spider web #cold weather #nature #seasons #winter aesthetic #frozen spider web #time frost

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shawnxstyles · 9 months

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Omg! Panty stealer pt2 is sooooo gooood! Cocky and dom Peter absolutely blew my mind! Your writing is awesome!

Pleeeeease tell me that it will be third part to fulfill the panty trilogy! As humble suggestion maybe reader find out that Pete is SpiderMan and he will finally get head from her while he is in his spidey costume? Or maybe more than just blowjob?Hehehe Am I very bad and naughty that I'm typing this to you? 🥵🤤

Anyways love ya darling! You're smashing it!

in the suit

words: 3k

warnings: smut; (m- receiving [oral], dirty talk), language, and fluff of course. barely edited.

note: panty!peter blurb #1 coming up :D also, this is the way i believe y/n would have found out about spider-man, but i have another request for the same thing so i’ll probably do an alternative version!

—

you couldn’t stop thinking about it. how?

how does peter manage to get into your room every night? okay, not every night, but most nights.

most nights, peter magically and mysteriously sneaks his way up into your forbidden bedroom with ease. sometimes, you even wait and watch outside your window to try to get a peak at what he’s doing. but you never see him.

he’s just so slick. how does he do it?

you and peter have been together for over a month now, if you’re counting the day he broke in. the feeling isn’t necessarily new in your heart. you feel like you’ve known him your whole life. like he’s always just… been there.

through this month of stability yet craziness, you haven’t gone back to the frat house since the halloween party. you thought that after you guys got together you would stay there more often, but peter doesn’t want you to be ‘attacked’ by the guys. meaning, he doesn’t want them to ask a million questions when you guys are supposed to be private. you thought his excuse was dumb, but he was also just being a bit protective.

in reality, peter just didn’t know how to get you into the frat house without anyone seeing you. you both had agreed that your relationship was going to be kept private, very private. people could spread rumors and assume you two were together, but you weren’t going to show each other off. you guys liked it this way, it made your relationship more special because it was just for you two.

peter had a sixth sense, sticky fingers, and webs. it was pretty easy for him to crawl up into your room especially because you didn’t have security cameras (maybe you guys should get some at some point though…). you would constantly ask him how he does it since you live on the second floor and it was high up. but peter responds by not responding and instead laughs and kisses you. god, he was too good at distracting you.

but tonight, you were determined to find out.

peter had already texted you earlier and said he wouldn’t be able to stop by tonight because of overbearing homework. you completely understood, and sent him a good luck and goodnight to me then message. but truly, you were sneaking out and heading towards the frat.

you put on your sneakers and a hoodie, pulling the strings tightly around your head. the early december weather was no joke in massachusetts, and your thermal leggings were barely helping to keep you warm. as quietly as possible, you leave through the back door, making sure not to alert anyone or anything. not like you have a system to alert though.

you cut through some of the hedges until you’re in the front yard and the frat is staring at you from across the street. taking a deep, chilly breath, you cross the road with your frozen fingers tucked in your pocket.

all the lights in the top rooms were off, except one. you’re not totally sure which one is peter’s, but what other frat guy would stay up until 11 p.m. working on homework?

maybe ned, but he sleeps downstairs.

you walk until you’re under the window, the yellowish light taunting you. there was no latter, vine, rope, or magic hair to get you into the bedroom. the houses were built very similarly, and you know he doesn’t bring a latter with him.

so how does he do it?

you take a glance at your surroundings. the biggest difference of your houses was that the guys’ didn’t have large garden hedges. they just had a shit ton of messy bushes that they should probably trim once in a while.

having no ideas, you try to jump towards the window. great, that’s totally going to help you. maybe you’ll get some super jump that can spring you up and inside.

you feel stupid. yeah, peter may be the smartest person on campus and going to mit on a full academic scholarship, but how does he sneak into your room? with geometry? you didn’t think so.

wait.

what if… he’s hiding something from you?

that would explain why he’s so weird about it. letting the impulsive decisions take you over, you throw a rock at his window. hopefully, you’ll get his attention and he’ll come down, so you can see how he does it. or he’ll just go through the front door… whatever he does, you need to ask him this question right now. or else you’ll never be able to sleep again.

when throwing the rock gets tedious and noisy, you quit. just as you’re about to drop to the ground in annoyance, you hear a distant whipping sound. you hold your breath as if the person whipping will hear you.

fuck. it wasn’t a good idea for you to go out at night.

suddenly feeling anxious and scared, you slowly creep towards the sorority house. you don’t get too far before you see a body flinging through the air. the whipping noise gets closer and closer to you with every web on the streetlights. what the…

there’s only one person that could possibly be doing the impossible.

spider-man.

but what was he doing in your little neighborhood? this was one of the safest places in the area, so he didn’t need to check up here. there were so many more places in massachusetts that needed saving. feeling beyond curious, your feet scatter to hide you behind one of the untrimmed bushes.

you watch through crowded leaves as spider-man swings through the neighborhood, getting towards you. it’s like he can sense you and he’s coming for you. your heart thumps wildly in your chest, nervous about seeing him. you’ve never seen him before, and at least not in person. he was popular on the newspaper and television screens, but never on the street. unless you lived within the city.

with one long and final thwip, spider-man flings himself towards the frat house.

what. the…

you place your hand over your mouth, just in case your breathing is too loud. you intensely watch as the spider crawls up the white wall and towards the only lit window in the whole house.

no. fucking. way.

before you could fully register what you were seeing, you felt the gasp leave your mouth. you slap both of your hands on your face to shut yourself up. you nearly fall back on your heels as spider-man halts his movements. he scans his surroundings before jumping down the wall entirely.

your eyes are wide and your hands of shaking. you’ve never felt your heart beat so unbelievably fast, but you’ve also never been more afraid. what does he do to people that find out? what is going to happen to your relationship?

the body of blue and red stocks closer to the bushes with careful steps. you try to scoot away, but your back hits the fence. the wood creaks, your actions not quiet enough. his footsteps pick up speed as they rush to the bushes with determination.

spider-man jumps over the plant with grace, hoping to see a wild animal of some sort. but when he sees his girl with the most shocked and terrified expression in the world, he immediately falls to his knees.

“y/n,” he calmly says, slowly inching to you. he doesn’t hesitate to comfort you as peter. you don’t move, you just listen. “it’s okay. i promise.”

now that he sensed you, peter could hear your heartbeat overbearingly in his ears. he could hear your muffled breaths under your palm, and he just wanted to soothe your fear.

“baby,” he wanted to cuddle your body until you stopped shaking. you weren’t crying, you were just in shock. peter takes a quick glance at his surroundings before yanking off his mask and kneeling, so you could see his face reflecting off the moonlight. “it’s just me.”

“i…” you whispered as your hands fell from your face. peter doesn’t hesitate to grab them gently with his gloved ones. “…knew it.”

“you knew i was spider-man?”

“well… for like five seconds,” you flusteredly laugh while trying to recover. you still haven’t gotten used to this. well it’s only been a minute. “i knew you were hiding something.”

“what are you doing out this late anyway?” he stares straight up at the moon as it shines vehemently over you both.

“uh… well,” you start, “i was kind of curious as to how you always snuck into my bedroom without a latter or something, so i went to see? i don’t really know what i was looking for.”

peter chuckles. “but you found your answer, yeah?”

“yeah, i did,” you smile with sweetness as peter helps you up from the grass floor.

—

“it’s different breaking into your room rather than mine,” you say as you sit on the edge of peter’s bed. you watch as he tosses his mask inside of a box labeled books. “so that’s what was in the box. not dirty magazines.”

“surprise?” peter laughs and you giggle at his shyness. his cheeks and nose were red from the cold, but also from the slight blush that crossed them. you made him feel all warm and tingly inside, and even a little gooey.

his hand reaches for the button on his chest. it deflates, instantly becoming huge around him.

“wait,” you stop him before he undresses himself. he looks towards you. “can i just… look at you for a moment? in the suit?”

a small smirk creeps up his face. peter clicks the button again and his suit encloses on his body, outlining his muscles perfectly. every ridge and curve of him was being shown off by the spandex. you felt a spark of lust fire inside of you at the sight.

“like me in my suit, baby?” he teased as he trudged over to you. you stood up from the bed to meet his buff chest. you nodded with a bite of your lip.

he nearly growls before attaching your lips. it’s barely been a day since he’s last kissed you, but that’s too long for him. his gloved hand grips your jaw to deepen the kiss while your hands explore his messy hair.

the heat between you was undeniable. you were getting worked up over peter in his suit, and that’s something you never thought was possible. because you didn’t think peter being spider-man was possible.

is there a spider-man kink?

you take your shirt off after breaking the kiss, but resume it in no time. as he pushes you onto the bed, you stop him, having a new idea in mind.

“peter,” you sigh, spandex body hovering over yours.

“you okay?”

“yeah, yes. i just…” you swallowed, “can i…”

you didn’t really get your question out. you just slithered your body off the bed until your knees were digging into his carpet. peter’s eyebrows shoot up as he stares down at your figure, submissive below him.

“fuck. you want to touch my cock?” peter was already growing hard at the idea of fucking you in his suit. he found it hot that you found his suit hot. everything seemed to be a turn on right now. but now you were on your fucking knees like an angel and damn near begging to touch him?

how could he say no?

“go ahead then, sweet girl,” peter allows, but you stay still.

“how do i take it off—?”

“right—”

he unzips a zipper that you swear wasn’t there before. you barely take him fully out before you’re drooling at the sight. he was big and thick, and you don’t think you’d ever get used to looking at and feeling him.

your thumb drags over his weepy tip and he winces at your freezing touch.

“sorry!” you exclaimed with a funky smile. he forcefully laughs while you spit warmth into your hand.

“it’s okay, baby.”

your delicate hand wraps around him as you shift up and down. he sighs into the air, eyes fluttering back. your other hand scratches his thighs lightly. then, you fondle his balls until he’s groaning above you.

“fuck, darling,” he moans as his rough hand rests on your head. with his grip on you, you feel inclined to put your mouth on him. you’re barely an inch away, so what are you waiting for?

your lips pucker as you kiss his veiny shaft. you see from the top of your eyes how his face floods with pleasure, and your ego rises.

“if you look at me like that again, i’m going to explode, baby,” peter husks with his fingers laced in your hair for support.

with a hummed chuckle, you finally place your mouth on him. you suck on his leaky tip as a deep groan elicits from him. his noises always give you a bunch of reassurance, so you hum against him in satisfaction.

“takin’ me so well,” peter forces himself to stay still and let you do all the work. although, his hips just want to break free and ram into the back of your throat until you lose your voice. for another time… “love when you’re on your knees for me.”

you vibrated a moan against his cock as you took him deeper, a little more than half way. you were never the best at giving head because you couldn’t go that far down without gagging atrociously, but after peter showed you a better technique, for breathing and comfort, he thought you were a professional.

“you like being on your knees for me? or for spider-man?”

a groggy moan rippled around his cock from your filled throat, confirming his suspicions. you were definitely turned of the idea of peter as spider-man, and because of that, he was too. every time you were horny, peter was too.

you released your hands from him and braced them on his thighs. you focused and remembered the small notes he’s given you before. you take a long breath before sinking his cock deep in the back of your mouth. your thumb stabs your palm to eliminate your gag reflex, and it works. your nose nudges the base of his cock and you can see up close how his abs contract tightly.

“fuck! doing so good for me. going to make me come, sweet girl.”

hearing this, you bob and twist your head with a goal. your tongue swirls exploring around each ridge like it’s never tasted the plain before. peter was delicious; he was sweet with a pinch of saltiness that made you a fan of giving head. you would get on your knees any day for him.

his cock twitches in your mouth, warning you that he’s coming. you feel his hips buck into you as he strongly yanks your hair. you groan as he lets himself go.

“where do you want it? on your face? chest? or are you going to swallow it like a good girl?”

even when his dick twitches again, you don’t make an effort to move. you lick the underside of him, which sends peter over the edge.

a string of hushed groans fall from his pink lips as his muscles clench. ropes of his orgasm spurts down your throat, and you swallow every drop like a champ. well, almost all. parts of his come drip from the corner of your lip as he slowly pulls out of you.

the second he exits you, your jaw is instantly sore and achy, but it was worth it. to see the flustered and breathless peter above you was worthless everytime. peter was nearly disoriented by how fucking incredible your mouth was. how you were.

he tucks himself back into his suit as you remain on the floor. he leans down and helps you up, your knees popping in the process.

“how was it this time?” you croaked, voice cracking horrendously. peter tries not to laugh as he wipes away the nearly dried sperm on your face. you open your mouth without a thought, and he sticks his thumb in your mouth for you to lick it clean.

“it was good. fucking amazing. impeccable. exceeded expectations. outstanding performance—”

“okay, okay i get it. you’re a nerd!” you brokenedly laugh as you shove his chest. you got a sudden wave of chills because you were starting to get a bit cold. your body was still running hot because you were still, well, turned on.

“nerds are awesome, okay? they know everything.”

“like what? impress me,” you challenge as you throw your leg on top of his lap and get yourself seated. he smirks, feeling his cock chuff up a bit already. you were beyond soaked in your panties, and you just couldn’t wait for peter to destroy you.

peter knows you didn’t actually want him to say anything nerdy, so he made it a bit sexual. as always.

“they know how to… kiss.”

“you’re probably the one nerd that knows how to kiss.”

“okay, fine. i know how to kiss,” his hand cups your face as it leans closer towards his. he places a soft, longing kiss on your swollen lips before pulling away way too fast for your liking. “i know how to touch you, i know how to rile you up. right? i’m doing it right now. and you’re probably soaking.”

a warmth wave floods through your body at his words.

“i know how to talk to you too. bet these dirty words are going straight to your little clit, huh?”

“peter,” you whimper. he was right. he was beyond right.

his hand trails down your bare stomach and hovers over your clothed cunt. he can feel the heavy heat radiating from you through your leggings, begging for more.

“i can feel you. i can smell you, too. a perk of being spider-man,” he smiles, “guess this nerd is pretty great.”

“peter!” you shook his shoulders in desperation, but he didn’t move. you had a love hate relationship with his teasing. he indeed got you riled up, to the max, until you were begging him to touch you. he just dragged it on and on and on. he loved hearing you beg for it.

“okay, okay, sweet girl,” peter chuckled as his fingers fumbled down the waistline of your leggings. they were thick, so you helped him get them down. “just want to hear you say how awesome nerds are first. how do you think i made these webs?”

“you’re the hottest, super-nerd i’ve ever met in my life. now can you please fuck me?” you begged as your cunt ached.

“aw thanks, baby,” all he did was laugh at your misery with a smirk. “all you had to do was say please.”

—

note: not my best work, but i hope you enjoyeddd. literally posting this at 1 am :D

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